#I’m sorry. it’s nearly 12k words | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

astrxq · 2 months ago

Note

HERE ME OUT PLEASE Spider-Man!cregan x reader. Cregan bump into reader at school when he is not in disguise and they became from then on, maybe? and meet reader again when he is in disguise (he could save her from being rob or save her while fighting villain.) which they also form a bond. They both sort of develop a crush on each other from then on Cregan is just smitten and reader is just like “I like this Spider-Man dude but I also like this Cregan guy”. Then one day spider!Cregan is injured and come to reader for help and reveal himself as Cregan. He confess to her that he just inlove with her since day one. Overall just fluff and cliché stuff.

(I’m srsly sorry if I made no sense at all😭🙏)

Between Masks and Moments

spider-man!cregan x reader

words: 13.5k

notes: this was longer than i intended it to be 😭 i thought i was about 6k words in and when i checked the word count it was already at 12k… but i hope you like it!

The first time you truly noticed Cregan Stark, it was because he nearly knocked you off your feet.

As you rounded the corner of the science building, lost in thought about the upcoming lecture, you collided with something solid. No, not something – someone. Your books tumbled to the ground, pages fluttering in the damp breeze, and you stumbled backward, nearly losing your footing.

"Oh, shit," a deep voice muttered. "I'm sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going."

You looked up, ready to brush off the apology with a quick 'no problem,' but the words died in your throat. Standing before you was Cregan Stark, the quiet, brooding guy from your biochemistry class. He was already crouching down, gathering your scattered belongings with large, careful hands.

You'd never been this close to him before. Sure, you'd stolen glances during lectures, admiring his strong jawline and the way his brow furrowed in concentration as he took notes. But now, mere inches away, you could see the flecks of gold in his blue eyes, the slight stubble on his chin that gave him a rugged appearance.

"It's okay," you finally managed to say, kneeling down to help him. "I wasn't really paying attention either."

Cregan's eyes met yours for a brief moment before quickly darting away. Was that a hint of a blush on his cheeks? No, it had to be the chill in the air.

"Here," he said, handing you your books. His voice was gruff, almost annoyed, but there was a gentleness in the way he handled your things that contradicted his tone. "Sorry again."

You took the books from him, your fingers accidentally brushing against his. A jolt of electricity seemed to pass between you, and you quickly pulled your hand back. "Thanks," you murmured.

Cregan stood up, and you couldn't help but notice how he towered over you. You'd always known he was tall, but up close, his presence was almost overwhelming. His broad shoulders seemed to block out the entire world behind him.

You straightened up, clutching your books to your chest, and for a moment, you were both frozen in the narrow hallway, caught in a strange, tense silence. Cregan shifted his weight, his brow furrowing even more, as if he was trying to decide whether to say something else or just walk away.

He settled on the former.

"You're in my biochem class, right?" His tone was still a bit gruff, but there was an underlying softness.

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up. "Yeah, I am. You're Cregan, right?"

He gave a short, almost reluctant nod. "Yeah."

There was another pause, and you felt the awkwardness creeping in. But before it could fully take hold, Cregan surprised you by speaking again.

"Do you need help with that stuff?" He glanced at the stack of books in your arms, his expression hard to read.

You hesitated, caught off guard by the unexpected offer. "I mean, if you're not in a hurry, I wouldn't mind."

Cregan exhaled a short breath, almost like a sigh, but he reached out anyway, taking half the books from your arms. His hands were warm and strong, and for a moment, you wondered what it would be like to hold them longer, to feel that warmth without the excuse of fallen books.

"Where to?" he asked, his voice softer now, less annoyed. There was a flicker of something in his gaze, something almost shy, though you'd never describe Cregan Stark as shy.

"The library," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "I was going to study before the next class."

Cregan gave another one of those short nods and started walking beside you, his long strides forcing you to pick up your pace. As you walked together, the silence between you wasn't as awkward as you'd expected. In fact, it was almost comfortable, as if Cregan's brooding presence somehow grounded you, made the chaotic noise of the school fade into the background.

When you reached the library, you stopped by one of the tables near the back, where it was quiet and the light was softer. Cregan set your books down, and for a moment, he just stood there, looking at them, then at you, like he was debating something in his head.

"Thanks for helping me out," you said, breaking the silence.

Cregan's eyes flicked up to meet yours, and there was that flicker of something again – a hint of warmth beneath the gruff exterior. "No problem," he muttered. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "See you in class."

You watched as he turned to leave, his broad back disappearing into the rows of bookshelves. It was only after he was gone that you realized you were still holding your breath. There was something about Cregan Stark that made your heart beat just a little faster, something that lingered in your thoughts long after he'd walked away.

As you sat down to study, you found it hard to focus. Your mind kept drifting back to the way his eyes had softened when he looked at you, the way his voice had gentled, just for a moment.

For Cregan, that collision in the hallway was both a dream come true and his worst nightmare.

He'd noticed you on the first day of class, drawn to your quiet intelligence and the way your eyes lit up when you understood a particularly difficult concept. Over the weeks, he'd found himself stealing glances at you during lectures, admiring the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were concentrating, or how you'd bite your lip when you were deep in thought.

But Cregan had never allowed himself to entertain the possibility of actually talking to you. His life was complicated enough without adding romantic entanglements to the mix. Between his duties as Spider-Man, his studies, and the constant struggle to make ends meet, he'd convinced himself that he didn't have time for a relationship. Besides, he reasoned, what could he possibly offer someone like you?

So he'd contented himself with admiring you from afar, treasuring those small moments of connection when you'd make eye contact across the lecture hall or exchange polite nods in the hallway. He told himself it was enough, that his crush was just a harmless distraction from the weight of his responsibilities.

But now, as he walked away from the library, his heart was pounding in a way that had nothing to do with his spider-enhanced physiology. The memory of your touch, brief as it was, sent electricity coursing through his veins. The scent of your shampoo lingered in his nostrils, and he couldn't shake the image of your eyes looking up at him, wide with surprise and something else... interest, maybe?

Cregan shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He couldn't afford to get distracted, not now. There was a chemistry lab to prepare for, and after that, he had to patrol the city. The weight of his responsibilities settled back onto his shoulders, and he felt his expression harden into its usual brooding mask.

But as he pushed open the door to the science building, he couldn't help but glance back towards the library. For the first time in a long while, Cregan allowed himself to wonder: what if?

_________

The next few days passed in a blur of lectures, lab work, and late-night patrols. You found yourself paying more attention to Cregan in class, noticing things you'd overlooked before. The way his brow furrowed when he was concentrating, the slight twitch of his lips when the professor made a particularly bad science pun, the graceful strength in his hands as he manipulated lab equipment.

Sometimes, you caught him looking at you too. His gaze would quickly dart away, but not before you noticed a softness in his eyes that contrasted sharply with his usual gruff demeanor. It made you wonder what was going on behind that brooding exterior.

You'd exchanged a few more words since your collision – a quiet "hey" as you took your seats, a muttered "thanks" when he held the door for you. Each time, you felt a little thrill of... something. Anticipation? Curiosity? You couldn't quite put your finger on it.

It was Friday evening when everything changed.

The streets were unusually quiet for a Friday night. Most people were already indoors, safe from the impending downpour. You turned down a narrow alley, a familiar shortcut you often took when in a hurry. The light from the streetlamps barely penetrated the shadows here, and you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. You told yourself it was just your imagination, that the looming storm and the empty streets were playing tricks on your mind.

But as you reached the halfway point of the alley, you heard it – a soft rustling, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind you. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickened your pace, your breath catching in your throat.

"Hey, where are you heading so fast?" a voice called out. You didn’t dare look back, your instincts screaming at you to keep moving.

The footsteps grew closer, the tension wrapping around you like a vice. You were almost at the end of the alley when a figure stepped out of the shadows ahead, blocking your path. He was tall, with a lean, wiry build and a predatory grin that sent a shiver down your spine.

"What's the rush?" he asked, his voice mockingly sweet. The way he stood, arms loose at his sides, suggested a confidence that chilled you to the bone. You were trapped.

Your mind raced, searching for a way out, but the options were grim. You could scream, but who would hear you? Your phone was buried in your bag, useless in the face of such immediate danger.

As the man stepped closer, you took a shaky step back, only to feel a solid wall of muscle behind you. Another one, you realized with a sinking heart. You were cornered.

You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for whatever was to come. But before the situation could escalate, a sound split the air – a sharp, almost imperceptible *thwip*.

And then, everything happened at once.

A blur of red and blue dropped down from above, moving with a speed and precision that left you breathless. The man behind you was yanked away, a startled yelp escaping his lips as he was thrown against the wall, his hands and feet bound by sticky webbing. The other barely had time to react before he too was disarmed and pinned to the ground, a web cocoon forming around him in seconds.

You stood frozen, eyes wide with shock, as Spider-Man – the Spider-Man – landed lightly in front of you. His eyes, hidden behind those iconic white lenses, seemed to scan you for any sign of injury. The air around you crackled with tension, but now it was a different kind – the kind that came with knowing you were safe, even if only for the moment.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice muffled but unmistakably concerned.

You nodded numbly, unable to find your voice. Up close, Spider-Man was even more imposing than you’d imagined, but there was something comforting in his presence, something that made the terror of the last few minutes begin to ebb away.

"Good," he said, his tone gentle now. He hesitated, moving to place a hand on your arm but not quite reaching you before he pulled back. “Do you need water or something?”

You glanced at the two thugs, now securely webbed to the walls, and couldn’t help but feel a surge of gratitude mixed with disbelief. You’d been saved by Spider-Man – a hero who was as much a myth as he was a reality in your mind. Unable to find your voice, you shook your head.

"Thank you," you finally managed to say, your voice shaky but sincere.

He tilted his head slightly, as if studying you. "It’s no problem. But it’s not safe to be out here alone, especially this late. Do you need a lift home?"

The offer caught you off guard. A lift home? With Spider-Man?

You hesitated, then nodded. "That...that would be great."

Without another word, Spider-Man stepped closer, slipping an arm around your waist with surprising ease, as if he’d done this a thousand times before. Your heart raced – not from fear, but from the sudden closeness, the way his presence seemed to envelop you.

"Hold on tight," he instructed, his voice calm and reassuring.

Before you could fully process what was happening, he shot a web into the night sky and the ground disappeared beneath you. You clung to him instinctively, your eyes squeezing shut as the wind rushed past your face, cool and refreshing in the humid night air.

All too soon, after you’d instructed him the way to your home, the flight ended as Spider-Man landed gracefully on the fire escape outside your apartment window. He set you down gently, his arm lingering around your waist for just a second longer than necessary before he pulled away.

"Home sweet home," he quipped, his tone light.

You took a step back, trying to steady your breath. "Thank you," you said again, your voice softer this time. "Really, I don’t know how to repay you."

Spider-Man didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he seemed to hesitate, as if debating something internally. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he asked, "Mind if I hang out here for a bit? The view’s not bad."

You blinked in surprise. Was Spider-Man asking to stay? With you? The night was full of surprises, it seemed.

"Sure," you said, moving towards the window and gesturing for him to follow. "I’ve never had a guest on my fire escape before."

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent a strange warmth through you. "First time for everything."

You both settled onto the metal platform, the city spread out before you like a living, breathing canvas. The air was cool now, the storm holding off for just a little longer, and for a moment, you simply sat there in silence, letting the night speak for itself.

"You live here alone?" he asked after a while, his voice quieter now, almost as if he didn’t want to disturb the peacefulness of the moment.

"Yeah," you replied, glancing over at him. His mask hid his expression, but there was a certain softness in the way he held himself, a relaxation you hadn’t expected. "It’s not much, but it’s home."

He nodded, seemingly lost in thought. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, "It must get lonely sometimes."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. You weren’t sure if he was talking about you or himself, but either way, you felt an odd connection in that moment, a shared understanding of what it meant to be alone in a city full of people.

"Sometimes," you admitted, your gaze drifting back to the city skyline. "But I guess that’s just part of life, right?"

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice almost lost in the breeze. "Part of life."

For a while longer, you both sat there, the city a quiet hum in the background. And in that silence, there was a comfort, a sense of companionship that neither of you had expected but both seemed to need.

“Do you want pizza?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence. At the mention of food, his head shot up.

“You’ve got pizza?”

You couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. “Yeah, I do. It’s leftover from earlier. It’s probably cold by now, but–”

Spider-Man’s enthusiasm seemed to overflow. “Cold pizza is fine! In fact, it’s the best kind of pizza!”

You laughed, the sound bright and clear in the night air. It felt strange, yet oddly comforting, to share such a simple moment with someone who seemed so larger-than-life.

“Alright then, let me grab it,” you said, moving toward the window. As you opened it and stepped inside, you could feel Spider-Man’s eyes on you.

You retrieved the pizza from the fridge, the box still warm from its earlier stint in the oven. Returning to the fire escape, you offered it to Spider-Man with a shy, almost playful grin.

“Here you go,” you said, handing over the box. “Cold pizza and all.”

He took it eagerly, setting it down beside him on the metal ledge.

You took a seat next to him, the cool metal beneath you grounding you after the adrenaline of the earlier encounter. The city lights below twinkled like stars, and for a moment, the chaos of the evening seemed to fade away.

Spider-Man popped open the pizza box, revealing a slightly congealed but still appetizing array of toppings. He pulled out a slice with deft movements and took a large bite, pulling up his mask just enough for you to not be able to make out his identity, his mask making the act look both humorous and oddly endearing.

"So," Spider-Man said as he took another bite, "late night at the library?"

You blinked, surprised by the casual conversation. "How did you know?"

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. "The stack of textbooks in your bag was a pretty big clue.”

You laughed, the sound mingling with the distant rumble of thunder as the storm prepared to make its entrance. "I guess I should have guessed you'd notice something like that."

Spider-Man nodded, a playful glint visible in the sliver of his eyes. "It's kind of my thing to notice details. Helps with the whole hero gig."

You bit into a slice of pizza, the cold cheese and slightly chewy crust a comforting contrast to the evening’s chaos. Spider-Man’s relaxed demeanor made it feel like you were just two friends sharing a late-night snack, not someone in need of rescue and the rescuer himself.

"What's your favorite topping?" you asked, trying to steer the conversation to something light.

He looked at the slice in his hand, contemplating. "Pepperoni. Classic choice, but it’s hard to beat."

You grinned. “Pepperoni?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Really? I have to say, bacon is the superior topping.”

Spider-Man’s eyes widened behind his mask, and he mock-gasped, holding his pizza slice up as if it were a shield. “Bacon? How could you betray the classic pepperoni like that?”

You chuckled, leaning back against the fire escape’s metal railing.

“You can’t be serious,” Spider-Man said, feigning outrage. “Pepperoni is a staple. Bacon is great, don’t get me wrong, but it doesn’t hold a candle to a well-cooked pepperoni slice.”

You raised an eyebrow, chuckling at his animated reaction. “Bacon adds a crispy, savory kick that pepperoni just can’t match. And don’t tell me you haven’t had bacon on pizza before. It’s like a flavor explosion.”

“Flavor explosion?” Spider-Man’s voice was incredulous, but there was a hint of laughter in it. “More like a greasy mess. And don’t get me started on how bacon can overshadow the other toppings. Pepperoni complements the cheese, the sauce – it’s harmonious.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Spider-Man’s dramatic reaction. The absurdity of debating pizza toppings with a superhero in the middle of the night struck you as hilariously surreal.

“Oh, come on,” you said, shaking your head. “Bacon doesn’t overshadow. It complements! It’s like having a surprise party on your pizza. You take a bite, and bam! – there’s the crispy, smoky goodness.”

Spider-Man pretended to shudder. “A surprise party?” he chuckled. “Agree to disagree. I’m sticking with my classic.”

You smiled, “I’ll take that as my win.”

You couldn’t quite believe it. There you were, sitting on your fire escape, and locked in a passionate debate about pizza toppings with Spider-Man. Spider-Man. The same superhero who swung through the night, fighting villains and saving lives. And here he was, playfully defending pepperoni against your undying love for bacon.

It felt like a scene plucked from a dream – a surreal interlude where the chaos of the night melted away into a shared moment of absurdity and connection. Inside your tiny apartment, the city was a backdrop, a distant hum of life and noise that barely intruded on this bizarrely intimate conversation.

The superhero was right there, his masked face only partially visible in the dim light, but clearly animated and engaged in a debate over something as trivial as pizza toppings.

"I might have to swing by more often just to change your mind about that pizza."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. "Oh?" you managed, trying to keep your voice steady. "And how exactly do you plan on doing that?"

Spider-Man tilted his head, and even though you couldn't see his face, you could almost feel the grin behind his mask. "Well," he said, his voice low and teasing, "I could always bring you some properly topped pizza. Show you the error of your bacon-loving ways."

You felt a flutter in your stomach at his words. The thought of Spider-Man swinging by again, just to bring you pizza, seemed both thrilling and strangely domestic.

"I'd like that," you said softly, surprising yourself with your honesty. "Though I think you'll have a hard time converting me."

Spider-Man chuckled, the sound warm and rich. "Challenge accepted," he said, his voice tinged with a playfulness that made your heart race.

For a moment, you both fell silent, the weight of the evening's events settling back over you. The pizza box lay empty between you, a testament to the strange normalcy you'd managed to carve out of this surreal situation.

Finally, Spider-Man stood, stretching as if preparing to leave. "I should get going. There’s always more to do."

You nodded, a pang of disappointment tugging at your heart. "Thanks again, for everything."

He turned to face you, and for a moment, you thought you saw a hint of a smile beneath his mask. "Anytime," he said, his voice warm. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

Before you could answer, he gave a final nod, and in a graceful, practiced motion, he leaped off the fire escape. For a moment, you watched as he soared into the night, his silhouette briefly illuminated by the distant streetlights. Then, with a soft whoosh, he was gone, disappearing into the urban tapestry of lights and shadows.

That night, as you laid in bed, your mind raced with thoughts of both Cregan and Spider-Man. The quiet, brooding boy from your class and the witty, heroic figure who had saved you – they couldn't be more different. And yet, there was something about both of them that drew you in, that made you want to know more.

Little did you know, across the city, Cregan was having similar thoughts about you. As he peeled off his Spider-Man suit, wincing at the bruises from his earlier fight, he couldn't shake the memory of holding you close as he swung through the city. He'd been drawn to you for weeks, admiring you from afar in class. But tonight, he'd gotten a taste of what it might be like to be close to you, to talk to you without the awkwardness that always seemed to plague him as Cregan.

As Spider-Man, he could be confident, even flirtatious. He could say the things he'd always wanted to say to you but never had the courage to. It was liberating, but also terrifying. Because now, more than ever, he wanted to know you, to be close to you. But how could he do that without revealing his secret? How could he be both the Cregan you knew from class and the Spider-Man who had saved you tonight?

_________

The week following your encounter with Spider-Man was a strange blend of normalcy and surreal anticipation. You went about your daily routine – attending classes, studying, grabbing coffee with friends – but there was an undercurrent of excitement, a constant awareness that at any moment, you might spot a flash of red and blue swinging between buildings.

For Cregan, the week was a torturous exercise in self-restraint. Every time he saw you in class or passed you in the hallway, his heart rate spiked. He found himself torn between an overwhelming desire to talk to you and a paralyzing fear of giving himself away.

The first few days, he limited himself to small, careful interactions. A wave as you entered the lecture hall. A nod of acknowledgment when your eyes met across the cafeteria. Each time, he felt a surge of warmth at your answering smile, but he always pulled back before he could do or say anything more.

At night, as he patrolled the city, Cregan found his thoughts constantly drifting back to you. He'd catch himself swinging past your apartment building, telling himself he was just checking to make sure you were safe. But deep down, he knew he was hoping for another chance encounter, another opportunity to talk to you as Spider-Man.

By Thursday, the tension was becoming unbearable. Cregan knew he couldn't keep this up indefinitely. He had to make a decision – either find a way to approach you as Cregan Stark or risk losing any chance of a real connection.

It was Friday afternoon when he finally worked up the courage to act. He spotted you entering the library, arms full of books. Taking a deep breath, Cregan followed you inside.

He watched as you settled at a table near the back, the same spot where he'd left you after your collision the week before. For a moment, he hesitated, second-guessing himself. What if you didn't want to be bothered? What if you preferred the quiet, grumpy Cregan from class and were put off by any attempt at friendliness?

But then he remembered the way you'd laughed with Spider-Man, the easy conversation you'd shared over cold pizza. He wanted that – not just as his masked alter ego, but as himself.

Squaring his shoulders, Cregan approached your table. When you didn’t look up, he cleared his throat.

"Hey," he said softly, mindful of the library's quiet atmosphere. "Mind if I join you?"

You looked up, surprise evident in your eyes. For a heart-stopping moment, Cregan thought you might say no. But then your expression softened into a smile. "Sure," you replied, gesturing to the empty chair next to you as you cleared the table for him. "There's plenty of room."

Cregan sat down, trying to ignore the way his heart was hammering in his chest. Up close, he could see the flecks of color in your eyes, the same ones he'd admired from behind his mask. He cleared his throat, searching for something to say.

"Biochem midterm?" he asked, nodding towards the textbook open in front of you.

You nodded, a hint of frustration creeping into your voice. "Yeah. I'm still struggling with some of the enzyme kinetics concepts."

Cregan felt a flutter of excitement. This, he could handle. Science was his element, a language he spoke fluently even when words failed him in other areas. "I could help, if you want," he offered, his voice gruff but tinged with genuine eagerness. "I've got a pretty good handle on that stuff."

Your eyes lit up, and Cregan felt his breath catch. "Really? That would be amazing. I've been staring at these diagrams for hours, and they're still not making sense."

As Cregan leaned in to look at your textbook, he felt some of his nervousness begin to ebb away. This was familiar territory – explaining scientific concepts, breaking down complex ideas into simpler parts.

You shifted your chair slightly closer to his, your shoulder brushing against his arm as you both peered down at the open textbook. Cregan felt a jolt of electricity at the contact, his skin tingling where you'd touched. The air between you seemed to thicken, charged with an energy that made his heart race even faster.

He focused on the page, the neatly printed equations and diagrams suddenly feeling more daunting than they'd ever been in his own studies. But you were looking at him expectantly, and Cregan knew he had to push through the nerves that threatened to steal his voice.

"Okay, so," he began, his voice just above a whisper, "enzyme kinetics can be tricky because it’s all about how the enzymes interact with the substrates. Think of it like... a dance. Each enzyme has a specific partner, and the speed of the reaction depends on how well they fit together and move in sync."

You nodded, leaning in closer, your brow furrowed in concentration. Cregan’s eyes flicked to your face, catching the way your lips pursed slightly as you tried to grasp the concept. He found himself lingering on the curve of your mouth, the soft glow of your skin under the library’s dim lighting.

As he explained further, your questions came, your voice soft and inviting, drawing him deeper into the conversation. Each time you spoke, Cregan’s heart would stutter, your words weaving into the atmosphere between you. He would catch himself staring at your hands as they moved across the page, slender fingers tracing the diagrams he described, and wonder what it would feel like to hold them.

The tension from earlier began to melt away, replaced by a quiet intimacy that neither of you had expected. Cregan leaned in even closer, his shoulder now pressed fully against yours. You didn’t move away – instead, you tilted your head towards him, so close that he could feel the warmth of your breath against his cheek.

The library seemed to fade around you, the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant shuffle of pages and whispers all but disappearing. It was just the two of you, cocooned in a bubble of soft words and shared focus. Cregan felt his guard lowering, the lines between Cregan Stark and Spider-Man blurring as he let himself enjoy this simple, honest moment with you.

Every time you asked a question, Cregan felt a little more of his confidence return. He could see the frustration in your eyes begin to ease, replaced by a spark of understanding that made him want to keep talking, keep sharing this part of himself with you.

Finally, after what felt like both a brief and endless stretch of time, you smiled – a real, bright smile that made something in Cregan’s chest ache with warmth.

“That actually makes sense now. I don’t know how to thank you, Cregan.” you said, leaning back in your chair, though still close enough that your knees brushed his under the table.

Cregan's breath hitched at the sound of his name on your lips, soft and full of gratitude. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady as he replied, "I’m glad I could help. It’s, uh, nice to talk about this stuff with someone who gets it." His words trailed off into a nervous laugh, his gaze flicking between your eyes and the textbook.

You laughed softly, a sound that made Cregan’s pulse quicken. "Well, I’m lucky to have found the best tutor around," you teased, the warmth in your tone making his cheeks flush.

Cregan’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, all centering on the impossible closeness of you, the way your laughter wrapped around him like a soft blanket. He wanted to say more, to tell you how much he’d been thinking about you, how every time he saw you, he felt a pull he couldn’t explain. But he held back, scared to break the delicate balance of this moment.

Instead, he settled for a simple, "Anytime," the word heavy with everything he wasn’t brave enough to say out loud.

As the silence stretched between you, neither of you moved away. Cregan's hand rested on the edge of the table, fingers inching just a bit closer to where yours lay, as if testing the waters, waiting to see if you’d pull away.

But you didn’t.

“Would you tutor me for biochem? I can pay you,”

Your question hung in the air between you, and Cregan’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t expected you to ask, and the offer of payment made something in him twist uncomfortably. You were offering him something concrete, something logical – an exchange of services – but that wasn’t what he wanted. Not really.

He hesitated, searching your eyes for any sign that you were asking out of more than just academic need. But all he saw was sincerity, a touch of hopefulness, and maybe, just maybe, something else – a faint flicker of warmth that made him wonder if you felt the same connection he did.

Cregan swallowed hard, feeling the tension rise in his chest. The last thing he wanted was for this to become transactional, something that would reduce your time together to a simple tutor-student dynamic. He didn’t want your money. He wanted your company, your laughter, the way your presence seemed to quiet the rest of the world.

“No, you don’t have to pay me,” he stammered, his voice softer than he intended. “I’d be happy to help. Really. I mean, it’s kind of fun, right? We can just, uh, study together whenever you need. No strings attached.”

The words tumbled out awkwardly, but he meant every one of them. He watched you carefully, nervous about how you’d react. For a split second, he worried that maybe you’d misunderstand – that you’d think he wasn’t taking you seriously, or that he was brushing off your offer.

But then you smiled, a slow, warm curve of your lips that made Cregan’s pulse quicken again. “Are you sure?” you asked, though there was a lightness in your tone now, as if you’d already guessed his answer. “I don’t want to take up your time for nothing.”

Cregan shook his head, his own smile starting to form. “It’s not nothing,” he said, feeling a bit of his confidence return. “Besides, I could use the review too. Biochem’s always easier with someone else to bounce ideas off of.”

You laughed softly, nodding in agreement. “Okay, you’ve convinced me. But I owe you a coffee at least. No arguments. That’s non-negotiable.”

Cregan’s heart soared at the thought of spending more time with you, of sharing something as simple and normal as a cup of coffee. It wasn’t a date – not exactly – but it felt like a step closer to something more, something real. He nodded quickly, eager to accept any excuse to see you outside of class, outside of these quiet, studious moments.

“Deal,” he said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic, though he knew he was failing miserably. He could feel the blush creeping up his neck, his nerves returning in full force.

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was comfortable, charged with an unspoken understanding that went beyond the words you’d exchanged. Cregan’s hand was still on the edge of the table, close to yours, and he wondered if you’d noticed just how near they were.

But before he could overthink it, you shifted slightly, your fingers brushing against his as you adjusted your textbook. It was the smallest of touches, but it sent a shiver up Cregan’s spine, his skin buzzing with the sensation.

“Tomorrow?” you asked, your voice soft but steady. “For the coffee? We can meet after class.”

Cregan nodded, his throat tight with emotion. “Tomorrow,” he echoed, feeling like it couldn’t come fast enough. The thought of seeing you again, of sitting across from you with a cup of coffee, made everything else fade into the background.

As he watched you disappear around the corner of a bookshelf, Cregan let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His mind was already racing ahead to tomorrow, to the coffee shop, to the prospect of spending more time with you outside of the confines of the classroom or library.

But as the initial rush of excitement began to fade, a familiar anxiety started to creep in. How was he going to balance this? His life as Cregan Stark, college student and potential friend (maybe more?) to you, with his responsibilities as Spider-Man? What if there was an emergency during their coffee... not-date? What if you started to notice his frequent disappearances, his unexplained bruises?

You found yourself replaying your conversation in your mind, smiling at the memory of his shy smiles and the way his eyes lit up when he talked. There was something about Cregan Stark that intrigued you, a depth that you were eager to explore further.

But as much as Cregan occupied your thoughts, you couldn't shake the memory of your encounter with Spider-Man. The masked hero's wit and charm had left an impression, and you often found yourself glancing up at the sky, half-hoping to catch a glimpse of red and blue swinging between buildings.

It was a week after your encounter when your path crossed with Spider-Man again. You were walking home late, having stayed at the library longer than intended, your mind still buzzing with biochemistry formulas and the lingering warmth of your interactions with Cregan.

The street was quiet, the air cool and crisp with the promise of autumn. You were so lost in thought that you almost missed the soft thud behind you. Almost.

"You know, it's dangerous to walk alone at night," a familiar voice called out, playful but with an undercurrent of concern. "Even in this neighborhood."

You spun around, your heart leaping into your throat. There, perched on a nearby lamppost, was Spider-Man, his masked face tilted towards you in a way that suggested he was smiling.

"Are you following me?" a mix of surprise and excitement coloring your voice.

He chuckled, the sound sending a small shiver down your spine. "Just keeping an eye on the city," he replied, his tone light. "But I have to admit, I'm glad I ran into you again. How've you been?"

You couldn't help but smile, the tension in your shoulders easing. "I've been good," you said, taking a step closer to the lamppost. "No more late-night alley adventures, if that's what you're asking."

Spider-Man laughed again, dropping down from the lamppost to stand in front of you. Even with the mask, you could sense his amusement. "Good to hear. Though I have to say, I was hoping for an excuse to swoop in and save the day again."

There was something in his voice, a hint of flirtation that made your pulse quicken. You raised an eyebrow, playing along. "Oh? And here I thought you had plenty of other damsels in distress to rescue."

"Ah, but none quite as intriguing as you," he quipped, his head tilting in a way that made you wonder what expression he was wearing beneath the mask.

You felt a blush creep up your neck, thankful for the dim streetlight that probably hid it. "Intriguing, huh? I'm not sure whether to be flattered or worried."

Spider-Man took a step closer, and you were suddenly very aware of his presence, the way he seemed to radiate a mix of confidence and nervous energy. "Definitely flattered," he said, his voice softer now. "Trust me, it takes a lot to catch a spider's attention."

You laughed, the sound slightly breathless. "Well, consider me honored then," you replied, surprised by your own boldness. "Though I have to say, you're pretty intriguing yourself, Spider-Man."

He seemed to stand a little straighter at that, and you could almost imagine the grin behind his mask. "Oh yeah? Care to elaborate on that?"

You pretended to consider for a moment, tapping your chin thoughtfully. "I hear you have excellent taste in pizza toppings."

Spider-Man laughed, the sound rich and warm. "Ah, so my reputation precedes me. Though I still maintain that pepperoni is superior to bacon."

You gasped in mock offense. "And here I thought we were getting along so well. Clearly, I was mistaken."

"Maybe I could change your mind," he said, his tone playful but with an undercurrent of something more. You didn’t know how you hadn’t seen the pizza box he was hiding behind his back until he held it up. “Might just change your mind.”

Your eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the pizza box. "You brought pizza? Were you planning this encounter, Spider-Man?" you asked, a teasing lilt in your voice.

He shrugged, the movement oddly graceful. "Let's just say I had a hunch I might run into you. And I never pass up an opportunity to prove the superiority of pepperoni."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head in amusement. "Well, far be it from me to turn down free pizza. But where exactly are we going to eat it? I don't think the sidewalk is the most romantic spot for a pizza date."

The word 'date' slipped out before you could stop it, and you felt a blush creep up your cheeks. Spider-Man seemed to pause for a moment, and you wondered if he was blushing too, beneath that mask.

"Date, huh?" he said, his voice a mix of surprise and pleasure. "Well, if it's romance you're after, I think I know just the spot. Do you trust me?"

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I'm not sure if I should trust a man in a mask, but..."

Spider-Man stepped closer, and your breath caught in your throat. "Hold on tight," he said, his voice low and warm.

Before you could fully process what was happening, his arm was around your waist, pulling you close against his side. You barely had time to wrap your arms around his neck before he shot a web upwards, and suddenly, you were airborne.

The city rushed by in a blur of lights and shadows, the cool night air whipping past you. You clung tightly to Spider-Man, your heart racing from a mixture of adrenaline and proximity. His body was warm and solid against yours, and even through the suit, you could feel the strength in his arms as he held you securely.

After what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, you landed softly on a rooftop. Spider-Man gently set you down, his hand lingering on your waist for just a moment longer than necessary.

"You okay?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

You nodded, slightly breathless. "Yeah, I'm... wow. That was incredible."

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you gasped softly. The rooftop offered a stunning view of the city skyline, lights twinkling like stars against the night sky. It was beautiful, peaceful in a way you'd never experienced the city before.

"This is amazing," you said softly, turning to look at Spider-Man. "How did you find this place?"

He shrugged, setting the pizza box down on a nearby ledge. "I swing by a lot of rooftops. This one's always been a favorite. It's quiet, and the view... well, it speaks for itself."

You nodded in agreement, moving to sit on the ledge next to the pizza box. Spider-Man joined you, his movements fluid and graceful.

"So," he said, opening the box and revealing a steaming pepperoni pizza, "ready to have your mind changed about the ultimate pizza topping?"

You laughed, reaching for a slice. "We'll see about that. I'm not easily swayed."

As you both ate, you fell into easy conversation. Spider-Man was witty and charming, his jokes making you laugh even as you rolled your eyes. But there were moments, brief flashes when his voice would soften or he'd tilt his head in a certain way, that reminded you startlingly of Cregan.

You pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the surreal experience of sharing pizza on a rooftop with a superhero. As the night wore on and the pizza dwindled, you found yourself relaxing, leaning slightly closer to Spider-Man.

"Okay," you admitted finally, "I have to say, this pepperoni pizza is pretty good."

Spider-Man pumped his fist in victory. "I knew it! Another convert to the pepperoni side."

You laughed, nudging his shoulder playfully. "Don't get too cocky. I still maintain that bacon has its merits."

He turned to face you, and even though you couldn't see his eyes, you could feel the intensity of his gaze. "Guess I'll just have to keep trying to convince you," he said softly.

His words hung in the air between you, charged with an energy that made your heart race. You found yourself leaning in slightly, drawn by the warmth of his presence and the intimacy of the moment.

"Is that a promise?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Spider-Man's hand twitched, as if he was about to reach out to you, but he caught himself. "It might be," he replied, his tone a mix of playfulness and something deeper, more sincere. "If you're interested in more rooftop pizza, that is."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I might be," you echoed his words, your eyes never leaving his masked face. "Though I have to warn you, I'm not easily won over. It might take a lot of convincing."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. "I'm up for the challenge."

For a moment, you both sat in comfortable silence, the city sprawling out beneath you like a living, breathing entity. The cool night air carried the faint sounds of traffic and distant sirens, reminding you of the world beyond this rooftop.

"Can I ask you something?" you said finally, turning to face him fully.

Spider-Man nodded, his posture shifting to give you his full attention. "Shoot."

You hesitated, wondering if you were crossing a line. "What's it like? Being... you? Having all this power, this responsibility?"

He was quiet for a long moment, and you worried you'd overstepped. But then he sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. "It's... complicated," he said finally. "It's exhilarating, knowing I can make a difference, save lives. But it's also terrifying. There's always the fear of not being fast enough, strong enough. Or, well – death."

His honesty caught you off guard. You'd expected a quip, maybe a lighthearted deflection. Instead, you got a glimpse of the person behind the mask, vulnerable and achingly human.

Without thinking, you reached out, placing your hand on his arm. "That sounds incredibly difficult," you said softly. "But for what it's worth, I think you're doing an amazing job. This city is lucky to have you."

Spider-Man looked down at your hand, then back up to your face. Even through the mask, you could sense the intensity of his gaze. "Thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "That... means a lot."

You smiled, giving his arm a gentle squeeze before pulling your hand back. As you did, you couldn't help but notice the firm muscles beneath the suit, the strength coiled just beneath the surface.

Clearing your throat, you looked back out at the city, trying to calm your racing heart. "So, um, do you bring all the girls you save up here for pizza, or am I special?" you asked, aiming for a teasing tone to lighten the mood.

Spider-Man laughed, the sound lighter now. "Oh, definitely special," he said, bumping his shoulder against yours playfully. "It's not every day I meet someone who can challenge my pizza topping supremacy."

You grinned, feeling the tension ease. "Well, I'm honored.”

Before you could dwell on it, a distant siren pierced the night air. Spider-Man's head snapped towards the sound, his body tensing.

"I'm sorry," he said, turning back to you with obvious reluctance. "I have to..."

You nodded, understanding. "Go," you said softly. "It’s okay, I’ll find my way back."

He stood, hesitating for a moment. Then, in a move that surprised you both, he reached out and squeezed your hand gently. "Thanks for... this," he said, gesturing vaguely at the rooftop, the remnants of your pizza dinner. "It was nice to just be... me for a while."

Your heart fluttered at his words, at the warmth of his hand on yours. "Anytime, Spider-Man," you replied, meaning it more than you'd expected to.

With a final nod, he stepped to the edge of the roof. "Hold on tight," he said, and before you could ask what he meant, he had scooped you up in his arms.

The journey back to street level was a blur of exhilaration and barely suppressed laughter. When your feet touched the ground, you felt oddly bereft, missing the warmth of his arms around you.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Would you want to do this again? I mean, maybe not the rooftop pizza – " you laughed lightly, “ – but just, you know, hanging out. Talking. I like it. I like… getting to know you."

He seemed to pause, his head tilting slightly as if he was considering something. Then he nodded. "I’d like that," he said, his tone softer, almost hesitant.

You found yourself smiling, a real one that reached your eyes, as you nodded back. "Great. Maybe... Thursday? Same time? We could meet on the fire scape, like last time.”

He mirrored your smile, though his was a little crooked, like he wasn't used to showing it. "Thursday works."

Neither of you moved to leave just yet. There was a comfortable silence that hung between you, the kind that didn’t demand to be filled. The cool breeze tousled your hair, and you felt the weight of the evening settle in, a sense of contentment mixing with the anticipation of what was to come.

But eventually, reality seeped back in. He straightened, his hand gripping the railing as if grounding himself before he stepped back.

"Stay safe," Spider-Man said, already preparing to swing away.

"You too," you called after him, watching as he disappeared into the night sky.

As you made your way home, your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. The quiet, brooding Cregan Stark and the charming, mysterious Spider-Man occupied equal space in your mind, leaving you more confused than ever about your own feelings.

As Cregan swung through the city, responding to the siren's call, he couldn't shake the memory of your smile, the warmth of your hand on his arm, the way you'd spoken about him.

He knew he was walking a dangerous line, but in that moment, with the wind rushing past him and the city spread out below, Cregan couldn't bring himself to regret a single moment of the evening he'd just shared with you.

_________

Cregan’s fingers drummed repeatedly on the paper cup in front of him. Your notes were scattered over the table, formulas and equations that had been giving you grief for days now.

He glanced up from the problem you were stuck on, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Alright,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “Let’s go over it one more time. You’re getting tripped up in the same spot.”

You sighed, feeling the weight of the frustration that had been building all week. “I know, it’s just… it doesn’t make sense in my head. I don’t see the connection.”

Cregan paused, his fingers halting their drumming. He leaned in slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he was holding back a reassuring smile.

“You’re overthinking it. You’ve got the basics down, you just need to trust yourself. Here,” Cregan pointed to a specific equation on your notes, his fingers brushing lightly against the paper as he spoke.

"See here? This is where you’re losing the thread. You’re thinking too far ahead instead of focusing on this step. Just break it down."

His voice was calm, steady, almost like a grounding force that pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. You nodded, trying to absorb his advice. There was something about the way he explained things that made it easier to understand, like he knew exactly where you were getting lost and how to guide you back.

You worked through the problem again, this time more slowly, following his guidance. Cregan watched you intently, his gaze unwavering, as if he could tell you would find the answer just by being there. And then, finally, it clicked.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, the solution suddenly clear as day. “I get it now. It was just that one step throwing me off.”

A small smile tugged at Cregan’s lips, the kind of smile that was rare from him, but when it appeared, it felt like the sun breaking through clouds. “Told you. You’ve got this.”

You grinned back, the weight of your earlier frustration lifting. “Thanks, Cregan. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He shrugged, trying to play it off as no big deal, but you could see the flicker of something softer in his eyes. “You’d figure it out eventually. I’m just here to make it easier.”

There was a pause, a comfortable silence that settled between you as you sipped your coffee. Outside, people bustled by, unaware of the quiet connection forming at your little table in the café.

You glanced at him, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the coffee. “You know, you’re really good at this. Helping people, I mean.”

Cregan looked almost embarrassed by the compliment, his gaze dropping to his cup. “I just… I like helping you. That’s all.”

His words hung in the air, simple yet heavy with meaning. You felt your heart skip a beat, unsure of how to respond. Instead, you simply smiled, letting the moment stretch out between you, full of unspoken things.

Eventually, Cregan cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “So, uh, you ready for the next problem?”

You nodded, grateful for the distraction but also for the time you had with him, these small moments that seemed to mean more than you could fully understand.

As you worked through the next set of problems, you found yourself more attuned to Cregan’s presence than the equations in front of you. His focus was sharp, eyes scanning your notes with an intensity that seemed out of place for something as mundane as math. Yet, that intensity was what made him so good at this, at seeing what you missed and guiding you through it.

You started the conversation, your voice warm and inviting. "So, Cregan, what else should I know about you? Besides being a whiz at biochem, that is."

Cregan felt a flush creep up his neck at your teasing tone. "I, uh, not much, really," he mumbled, his eyes darting around the coffee shop before settling back on you. "I'm kind of a boring guy, to be honest."

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Somehow, I doubt that," you said, leaning forward slightly.

Cregan's eyes met yours for a brief moment before he looked away, a faint smile breaking his usual reserved expression. “Well,” he started, his voice low and thoughtful, “I guess I’m into photography. It’s more of a hobby, but it helps me clear my head sometimes.”

You leaned in closer, intrigued by this small revelation. “Photography? That’s really cool. What do you like to photograph?”

Cregan shrugged, a little more at ease now that the focus was off the math and on something more personal. “Mostly cityscapes. Sometimes, I’ll catch the sunrise or sunset if I’m up early – or late – enough. I like capturing moments that people usually overlook.”

There was something almost poetic about the way he spoke, as if he saw the world in a different light, a way that made you want to see it through his eyes. “That sounds… peaceful,” you replied, trying to imagine him in those quiet moments, camera in hand.

“Yeah, it is.” Cregan paused, as if considering how much more to share. “It’s… calming.”

You smiled, feeling a new level of connection with him. “I’d love to see some of your photos sometime.”

His eyes flicked back to you, surprised. “You would?”

“Of course,” you said, your voice earnest. “I think it’d be amazing to see the world through your perspective.”

Cregan hesitated, but there was a softness in his expression, a slight warmth that hadn’t been there before. “Maybe I could show you, then. If you’re really interested.”

“I am,” you assured him, your tone gentle yet firm. “I really am.”

The conversation took on a new rhythm after that, a quieter, more personal tone as you both opened up, bit by bit. Cregan asked about your own interests, your goals, the things that made you tick outside of the classroom. He listened intently, his focus unwavering, and even though his responses were often short and to the point, they were always thoughtful, as if he was carefully choosing each word.

You talked about books you loved, places you wanted to visit, dreams you had for the future. And in turn, Cregan shared more about himself – his love for science, his fascination with how things worked, and the quiet joy he found in those moments when he could just be himself, away from the pressures of school and life.

As the afternoon stretched into early evening, the café started to empty out, the bustle of the day giving way to a more relaxed atmosphere. The baristas began their end-of-day routines, but you and Cregan remained, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment.

At some point, your hands brushed across the table, and though it was brief, it felt like a spark of electricity passed between you. Cregan didn’t pull away, and neither did you. Instead, you both let the touch linger for just a moment longer, a silent acknowledgment of the growing bond that was forming.

Finally, as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the café floor, you realized it was time to go. You packed up your notes, the weight of the day’s work feeling lighter than it had before.

“Thanks for today,” you said, standing up and slinging your bag over your shoulder. “I really appreciate it.”

Cregan stood as well, his hands slipping into his pockets. “Anytime,” he said softly. “Same time next week?”

“Definitely,” you replied, smiling at him. “And maybe we can talk more about photography, too.”

Cregan’s smile returned, shy but genuine. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

As you walked out of the café together, the evening air cool and refreshing, you couldn’t help but feel that something had shifted between you and Cregan. It was subtle, a quiet deepening of the connection you shared, but it was there, undeniable and strong.

You parted ways after Cregan insisted on walking you home and you refused, he opted for telling you to text him when you were at your door. His cheeks burnt red when he read the screen, with your newly added number and a ‘home ;)’text.

Cregan's phone buzzed again, and his heart leapt, wondering if it was another message from you. But as he looked at the screen, his expression darkened. It was a news alert: a robbery in progress just a few blocks away.

He hesitated, torn between the urge to respond and the desire to hold onto the warmth of the afternoon for just a little longer. But he knew he couldn't ignore it. With a sigh, Cregan ducked into a nearby alley, quickly changing into the suit he always kept with him.

As he swung through the city, the cool night air whipping past him, Cregan couldn't help but think about you. About the way your eyes had lit up when he explained a particularly tricky concept, about the soft brush of your fingers against his as you reached for your coffee cup. He thought about the promise of next week, of more conversations about photography and life and all the things that made you both who you were.

The robbery was dealt with quickly – a couple of petty thieves who were more surprised to see Spider-Man than they were prepared to fight him. As Cregan webbed them up for the police, he found himself wondering what you would think if you could see him now. Would you be impressed? Scared? Would it change the way you looked at him?

By the time Cregan made it back to his apartment, it was late. He collapsed onto his bed, still in his suit, feeling the familiar ache of exertion in his muscles. But as he closed his eyes, it wasn't the faces of the criminals he'd caught that he saw. It was your smile, the way you'd leaned in close as he explained a problem, the warmth in your voice when you'd said goodbye.

His phone buzzed one more time, and Cregan reached for it, his heart racing. It was you.

‘thanks again for today. you really are my hero when it comes to biochem.’

Then another.

‘see you in class!’

Cregan read the message several times, his thumb hovering over the reply button. He wanted to say so much – about how much he'd enjoyed spending time with you, how he was already looking forward to next week, how beautiful you looked, how you made him feel like just Cregan, not Spider-Man or anyone else.

In the end, he settled for something simple: ‘Anytime. I had a great time too. Can't wait for next week.’

He knew it wouldn't be easy. Balancing his life as Cregan Stark with his duties as Spider-Man was already a constant struggle. Adding a potential relationship to the mix would only complicate things further. But as he remembered the sound of your laugh, the way your eyes had met his across the coffee shop table, Cregan found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it.

The next few days passed in a blur of classes, patrols, and stolen glances across lecture halls. Every time Cregan saw you, his heart would do a little flip in his chest. Sometimes you'd catch his eye and smile, a small, secret gesture that felt like it was just for him. Other times, you'd be deep in conversation with friends or buried in a textbook, and Cregan would find himself watching you from afar, marveling at the way you moved through the world.

In class, Cregan found himself hyper-aware of your presence. He'd catch himself stealing glances at you, watching the way you chewed on your pen when you were thinking hard about a problem, or the way you'd tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you leaned over your notes. More than once, he nearly missed a question from the professor, too distracted by the simple fact of your nearness.

But it wasn't just in class that you occupied his thoughts. As Spider-Man, swinging through the city at night, Cregan found himself taking routes that would bring him past your apartment building. He told himself it was just to make sure you were safe, but deep down, he knew it was more than that. It was a way of feeling close to you, even when he couldn't be Cregan Stark.

As Cregan swung away into the night, he couldn't shake the feeling that something had to give. He couldn't keep living these two separate lives, couldn't keep holding you at arm's length while simultaneously yearning to be closer. But what was the alternative? To tell you the truth and risk everything? To walk away and protect you from the dangers that came with being close to Spider-Man?

He didn't have the answers. But as he made his way back to his own apartment, Cregan knew one thing for certain: he was in deeper than he'd ever intended to be, and there was no easy way out.

_________

As the days passed, you found yourself drawn more and more into Cregan Stark's orbit. What had started as simple tutoring sessions began to evolve into something more. You'd catch yourself looking for him in the crowded hallways between classes, your heart skipping a beat when you'd spot that familiar mop of brown hair.

During your tutoring sessions, you started to linger longer, engaging Cregan in conversations that went far beyond the subject matter at hand. You discovered a shared love of obscure sci-fi movies, and soon found yourself suggesting meetups outside of your usual study time. When you had first asked him to come over to watch a movie, trying to keep your voice casual even as your pulse quickened, Cregan felt like his chest was about to explode.

Cregan seemed both delighted and nervous at these invitations, always accepting with an endearing mix of enthusiasm and awkwardness. You couldn't help but find his slightly fumbling manner charming, so different from the easy confidence you saw in many of your classmates.

But it wasn't just Cregan Stark who was occupying your thoughts. Your encounters with Spider-Man had been increasing in frequency as well. It started innocuously enough - you'd be walking home late from the library and suddenly he'd be there, offering to make sure you got home safely. Or you'd be grabbing a quick bite at a food truck, and he'd swing by, pausing just long enough for a quip and a smile that made your stomach flutter.

These brief encounters slowly became more frequent, more prolonged. Sometimes he'd perch on a nearby rooftop, and you'd find yourself talking for hours, sharing your hopes, your fears, your dreams. There was something freeing about talking to someone whose face you couldn't fully see, whose identity remained a mystery. You found yourself opening up to Spider-Man in ways you never had with anyone else.

As your connection with both Cregan and Spider-Man deepened, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something you were missing, some connection you weren't quite grasping.

The day had been long, stretched out with a kind of silence that felt unnatural. Usually, Cregan would find some way to pop up – whether it was a quick text about a class assignment or a casual joke that made you smile. But the past three days, there was nothing. The hours ticked by, and with each passing minute, a sense of unease settled in your chest.

You missed Cregan, he’d become a constant presence in your life.

The evening of the third day rolled in, you tried to distract yourself with a book, but the words blurred together, your mind too bored and restless to focus. Every so often, you found yourself glancing at your phone, hoping for a message, some sign of Cregan.

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across your apartment. You stood by the window, watching the city come to life with its usual rhythm – the distant hum of traffic, the occasional blare of a car horn, the murmur of voices drifting up from the street below. But something felt off, a tension in the air that you couldn’t quite shake.

You were just about to turn away from the window, resigning yourself to another hour of waiting, when a sudden noise broke through the quiet. A thud. Heavy and sharp, it resonated through the walls and made you jump.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you spun toward the sound. It had come from the fire escape just outside your window, the metal groaning slightly under the weight of something – or someone.

With a shaky breath, you approached the window, your hand trembling as you reached for the latch. You hesitated for a moment, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind. Then, slowly, you pushed the window open, the cool evening air rushing in.

And there he was.

Spider-Man.

But not the agile, confident hero you’d seen swinging through the city’s skyline. This Spider-Man was slumped against the railing of your fire escape, his red and blue suit torn and stained with dirt and blood. He was breathing heavily, each breath a ragged gasp, his masked head tilted down as if the effort of holding it up was too much.

“Spider-Man?” you whispered, your voice shaky with a mix of disbelief and fear.

He didn’t respond at first, his head still bowed, but you could see his chest rising and falling in labored breaths. Panic surged through you as you realized just how badly he was hurt. Without thinking, you climbed out onto the fire escape, the metal cool beneath your hands as you knelt beside him.

“Hey,” you said, louder this time, reaching out to touch his arm. “What happened?”

At your touch, he flinched, his head snapping up. For a moment, you saw the white lenses of his mask narrow, as if he was trying to focus on you through a haze of pain. Then, with a weak, shaky movement, he lifted a gloved hand to his mask, pulling it up just enough to reveal the lower half of his face.

Your heart nearly stopped when you saw it – Cregan’s familiar jawline, his lips cracked and dry, blood trickling from a cut on his cheek. His eyes, half-hidden behind the mask, were glazed with exhaustion and pain.

“Cregan,” you breathed, the name slipping from your lips before you could stop it. Fear and worry tangled in your chest, making it hard to breathe. You could barely recognize the boy who’d sat beside you in the library just a few weeks before, explaining enzyme kinetics with a shy smile. Now, he looked so vulnerable, so fragile, it was almost unbearable.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, almost too quiet to hear. His attempt at a smile faltered, his lips trembling. “Sorry... didn’t mean to drop in unannounced.”

You shook your head, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Cregan, what happened? You’re hurt – Oh my god, you’re bleeding!”

He winced as he tried to shift, his hand tightening on the railing. “Just... ran into some trouble. Nothing I couldn’t handle. Just... just need a minute.”

But it was clear that he needed more than just a minute. His skin was pale beneath the grime, and when he tried to move again, his body sagged against the railing, his strength all but gone.

“Cregan, you need help,” you said, your voice urgent as you scanned his injuries, not knowing where to start. You could see the gash on his side, the dark stain of blood seeping through the fabric of his suit. “You can’t stay out here – come inside, please.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but another wave of pain seemed to wash over him, cutting off his words. You didn’t wait for him to argue. With gentle hands, you slipped your arm around his waist, feeling the tension in his muscles as you tried to support his weight.

“Come on,” you urged softly, “I’ve got you.”

With a groan, Cregan let you help him to his feet, his body heavy and unsteady against yours. Together, you managed to maneuver him through the window and into your apartment, his breath hot and ragged against your neck.

You guided him to the couch, easing him down onto the cushions with as much care as you could manage. He slumped back, his head lolling to the side as he tried to stay conscious. You could see the strain in his face, the way his eyes fluttered open and shut as he fought against the overwhelming exhaustion.

“I’m gonna get some supplies,” you whispered, brushing a hand across his forehead. “Just hang in there, okay?”

Cregan’s hand caught yours as you started to pull away, his grip weak but desperate. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes met yours, filled with a depth of gratitude and vulnerability that made your heart ache.

You squeezed his hand gently, your voice soft but firm. “I’ll be right back.”

As you hurried to gather what you needed – first aid kit, towels, anything that might help – you couldn’t shake the image of Cregan lying there, hurt and vulnerable. This was the same boy who’d laughed with you over coffee, who’d explained complex science with an ease that belied his own brilliance. The same boy who now sat on your couch, barely holding on.

When you returned, Cregan’s eyes were closed, his breathing shallow but steady. You knelt beside him, your hands trembling as you began to clean his wounds, doing your best to be gentle. Each time he flinched or winced, your heart clenched, wishing you could take the pain away, even if just a little.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper as you worked.

Cregan didn’t answer right away, his lips pressed together as you dabbed at the cut on his side. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice rough and tired. “Missed you.”

Your chest tightened at his words, and you paused, meeting his gaze. “Cregan,”

The words seemed to hang in the air between you, thick with emotion. Cregan’s eyes softened, his expression crumbling into something raw and unguarded. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I didn’t want to drag you into this... but I didn’t know where else to go.”

Your heart ached for him, and without thinking, you reached out, cupping his cheek in your hand. “You’re not dragging me into anything, Cregan. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes as if trying to draw strength from your presence. For a long moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, tangled in a web of trust and unspoken feelings, holding on to each other in the quiet safety of your small apartment.

Cregan’s eyes fluttered open as he leaned into your touch, a small, reassuring smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the pain etched into his features.

“Hey, don’t look so worried,” he murmured, his voice soft but with a familiar hint of playfulness. “I’ll be okay. I’ve got this whole… accelerated healing thing going on. Perks of the job.”

You tried to smile back, but the worry still lingered in your eyes. “I know, but that doesn’t make seeing you like this any easier.” Your voice wavered slightly, and Cregan’s hand found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Come on, don’t I always bounce back?” he said, trying to inject some of that Spider-Man charm into his voice, though it came out weaker than usual.

“I’ll be okay,” he murmured at your silence, his voice a rough whisper, as if he was trying to convince both of you. “I... I heal fast. It just takes some time.”

You frowned, your hand still cradling his face as you studied the cuts and bruises that marred his skin. “Fast or not, you’re hurt, Cregan. Let me help.”

He managed a small, weak smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but was full of appreciation. “You’re already helping.”

You started with the worst of his injuries, cleaning the gash on his side with careful, deliberate movements. He hissed at the sting of the antiseptic, his muscles tensing beneath your touch, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let out a shaky breath and tried to relax, his eyes fixed on your face as if drawing strength from your presence.

He looked at you then, really looked at you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand how you could be so kind, so caring, even after seeing him like this. The world knew Spider-Man as a hero, invincible and strong, but here he was, laid bare and vulnerable, and yet you didn’t flinch, didn’t turn away. Instead, you stayed, your hands steady as you patched him up, your heart open and unafraid.

Once you’d finished with the worst of the injuries, you turned your attention to the smaller cuts and bruises, dabbing at the dried blood on his cheek, his neck, his hands. The silence between you was comfortable now, filled with the quiet rustle of bandages and the soft rhythm of your breathing.

Cregan’s eyes drifted shut as you worked, the exhaustion finally catching up with him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “Didn’t mean to worry you.”

You shook your head, your fingers brushing gently over a bruise on his temple. “You don’t have to apologize, Cregan. I’m just glad you came here, that you trusted me.”

His eyes opened again, and this time, there was a softness in them that made your heart ache. “Of course, I trust you,” he said, his voice stronger now, more certain. “I just... I didn’t want you to see me like this. Didn’t want you to think...”

He trailed off, struggling to find the right words. But you understood what he was trying to say, the fear that had been gnawing at him, the worry that you might see him differently now that you knew the truth.

You offered him a small, reassuring smile, your hand still resting on his cheek.

He closed his eyes again, leaning into your touch as if it was the only thing keeping him anchored. You could see the exhaustion weighing heavily on him, the way his body sagged against the cushions, his strength nearly spent.

“Get some rest,” you urged softly, your fingers brushing through his hair in a soothing gesture. “I’ll stay right here. You’re safe.”

Cregan nodded, his breathing evening out as he let the exhaustion take over. His hand found yours, his grip weak but steady, and he held on as if afraid to let go.

As the minutes stretched into hours, the tension in Cregan’s body began to ease, his breathing becoming slower, deeper. The silence in the room was peaceful, broken only by the faint sounds of the city beyond the window. You stayed beside him, your hand still holding his, your thumb brushing gently over the back of his knuckles in a soothing rhythm, trying to also calm yourself down.

Then, just as you thought he’d fallen asleep, Cregan’s voice broke the quiet, a soft murmur that tugged at your heart. “I missed you these last few days,” he whispered, his eyes still closed, as if the words were pulled from him in a moment of vulnerability.

Your breath caught in your throat at the confession. “I missed you too,” you replied, your voice just as soft, filled with all the things you hadn’t been able to say. You hadn’t realized how much you’d been waiting for this moment, for the chance to be close to him again, until now.

Cregan’s eyes fluttered open, meeting yours with a quiet intensity that made your pulse quicken. There was something raw in his gaze, a mix of relief and longing that you hadn’t seen before, something that made the air between you crackle with unspoken emotion.

“I kept thinking about you,” he continued, his voice low and rough around the edges.

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest as his words hung in the air. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that made it impossible to ignore, a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the bruises and cuts marring his face.

Cregan’s lips, cracked and dry from days of struggle, curled into a weak but genuine smile. His eyes, half-lidded with exhaustion but alive with a mix of mischief and longing, met yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, “since you’re already being so kind and caring, maybe… just maybe… a kiss for the wounded hero?” He tried to make light of his condition, the playful tone in his voice belying the pain he was in.

Your lips twitched into a small, incredulous smile despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. You could see the effort it took for him to joke, the way he was clinging to his usual charm even when he was at his most vulnerable.

“I suppose I could,” you said, leaning closer, “if you’re sure it won’t make you faint from excitement.”

Cregan’s laughter was a soft, pained exhale, but it was there, and it was real. “I think I can handle it.”

With a tender smile, you brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, your fingers lingering for a moment as you took in the rawness of his expression. He looked at you with such intensity that it felt as if he was seeing right into you, beyond the superficial and straight into the heart of what mattered.

You leaned in, your breath mingling with his as you closed the distance. His lips were warm and dry against yours, and the kiss was gentle, almost tentative.

Cregan’s lips, cracked and trembling from his injuries, felt delicate beneath yours. Despite his pain, there was a surprising gentleness in his kiss, a fragile vulnerability that made you want to hold him closer. The contact was brief, a fleeting brush of warmth and tenderness, but it was charged with unspoken emotions – fear, hope, and the deep relief of finally being close again.

When you pulled back, you barely heard Cregan’s joke about ordering some good pizza, too focused on his cheeky smile and the few strands of hair that had fallen back to his face.

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #hotd cregan #cregan fanfiction #cregan x reader #tom taylor #stark x reader #spiderman x reader #spidersona #spiderman #cregan x you #cregan stark oneshot

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muffinpink02 · 8 months ago

Text

It’s not what you know, it’s who you know -

Hello lovelies! So this is my first “Reader POV” story. And my first Alexia Putellas story. But you can find me on ao3! Muffinpink02 With my other stories.

Summary - Your best friend has invited you to be a plus one for an award show for women’s sports. You don’t have a clue about sport, so when a certain blonde comes and flirts with you, you can’t help but flirt back. But can she keep your attention?

Sorry if I haven’t posted this right, first time on here.

Warnings : SMUT, 18+ fingering, strap, orgasm denial, cunnilingus, restraint and more. 12k +words

You were running late as usual.

Well, it was only by 5 minutes, not too late for your standard, but you knew Daisy would already know that. You were always late. It wasn’t like she cared, she was your best friend, she might tease you about your horrendous time keeping but she loved you, she wouldn’t hold it against you.

Finally, you arrived at your guys favourite pub. You hurried in to see your childhood best friend sitting by the window, drinking her classic red, and what looked like your go to choice of drink sitting on a beer mat in front of her. You smiled as you approached her, it had been a month since you last saw each other. She’d been soo busy with work lately, you was aware she was working on something big with her current clients, you wasn’t sure on who they were but it was some kind of trophy. Or was it a statue?

“Daisy!” You shouted.

She looked up from her phone, a huge smile on her face. “Well, well. Look who’s nearly on time, this is early for you!” Daisy laughed as she grabbed you in for a hug.

“Don’t jinx it!” You laughed as you sat down. You grabbed the drink in front of you. “Ahh you’re an angel. Thank you, D.”

“You’re welcome. So, tell me how’s life? What have I missed?”

You caught up on everything, you finally learned that it was an award that Daisy had been working on, something to do with women’s sport, football to be precise. You could tell from the way she spoke about it that she was excited and proud of herself, and you loved to see it, you were always her biggest cheerleader.

“So it’s being awarded next week, and I get to bring a plus one.” She eyed you up excitedly.

“I’m there. What’s the dress code?” You asked.

“Yay! Brilliant! So it’s fancy but not fancy there will be free drinks, food and a lot of fit athletes. Definitely ones you would love.”

“Sorry? Am I just a big old tart? I’m there to support you…but I mean if there will be fit girls then it’s a win, win.” You smiled at her playfully.

Daisy rolled her eyes and laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Ohh and a car will pick us up, so come to mine before and we can have some pre drinks.”

“Perfect. Tell me a time and I’ll be there. And I’ll be on time. I promise.” You winked.

——————-

You indeed kept your promise. It may have been the first time ever in your grown up life that you were actually on time, 6 minutes early in fact. You knocked on Daisy’s door and of course the pure shock on her face was worth it.

“No. You’re on time? You’re early? What?” She opened her door wider to let you in.

You walked in, a smug smile on your face. “Yeah, but don’t get used to it.”

Daisy laughed as she followed you into the kitchen, grabbing you both drinks for tonight.

“I love what you’re wearing, D.”

She poured you both Prosecco, handing you your glass. “Thank you. I normally hate dressing up like this but I actually like this dress. Let me see yours in person, it looked so nice in the picture.”

You took your jacket off, revealing a simple but chic, black cami mini dress, that showed off your curves just perfectly. The chest was low-cut, displaying a healthy amount of your breast, but not enough for it to look tacky. It had an open slit to the side of your thigh, exposing some skin, but enough to look sexy. And if you were going to toot your own horn, yeah, you would say you looked good tonight.

“Yes. I love this! I won’t be surprised if you get one of the athletes trying to talk to you. You look fucking hot!” Daisy smiled.

“Pshh I wish. But here’s hoping.” You raised your glass as you took sip. “Anyways, I’m there for you, not the girls.”

In all honesty, you wasn’t too sure on what tonight was about, you knew the award was made by Daisy but you didn’t know what it was for exactly. Well that was a lie, you knew it was for women’s sports and their achievements, but that was about it. You didn’t know what sport it was for, well again you knew Daisy’s award was for football. Was there other sports there? Maybe? You just knew Daisy was there and a woman footballer was receiving it. For her achievements? Yeah, that’s sounds right. Either way you were there to support her, and that was something you knew you could do.

The car arrived, Daisy explained there would be a few faces you might recognise, well, not the sport faces, because you had no clue when it came to sport. You didn’t watch it, you didn’t know about it, you wasn’t into it. It just wasn’t your thing. The car pulled up to the event, there was loads of people walking into a fancy looking building, paparazzi was outside taking pictures of who you assumed was the star athletes.

You and Daisy walked quickly through the crowd, she wasn’t one for pictures and fuss. Even if this was one of her biggest events she had worked on, she didn’t care for it. You both had your VIP lanyards around your neck, the bouncers allowed you entry into the main area. You both got a drink and spoke to some of Daisys colleagues, some you had even met before.

Daisy was being pulled from pillar to post, you didn’t realise just how important the award was. The footballer who was receiving it must have been a big deal as her name was constantly being mentioned. Journalist was asking Daisy ‘how she felt about tonight?’ And ‘how she designed the award?’ ‘what her inspiration was for it?’ You loved watching her finally being recognised for her talent but it did mean you were left a lot, not that you minded. You walked around the room looking at displays of other awards, and the displays of other athletes that was being awarded.

As much as you tried your best to look interested, you had to have a quick glance at your phone, you know, you could be getting an important email from work. You scrolled over your insta feed, but that was just as boring, but a video of a cat playing the piano caught your attention. You didn’t feel the presence of person next you until she spoke.

“You look as bored as I feel.”

You jumped slightly at the new voice in your ear, you looked up to see a blonde woman now standing next you, she was looking at the award you had been standing next to for the better half of ten minutes.

She continued. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” That’s when you noticed a thick Spanish accent on her.

“No, you’re okay. I was just looking at work emails.”

That’s when you really looked at the stranger, she had beautiful hazel eyes, her dark eye shadow making them pop. Her smile was painted red, with full lips. She was wearing a black fitted suit, with a low cut travelling down her chest making it look like she had nothing on underneath. Her blonde hair was parted and down. She was just a bit taller than you, making you look up at her. Basically she was fit as fuck.

“Ahh sí, work emails.”

A mischievous smile spread across her face telling you she knew you wasn’t looking at no work email. She probably saw how engulfed you were at the stupid cat video. She glanced over you quickly, making you almost feel like you were revealing a body part that you didn’t know was out.

“Are you here for work?” She asked.

“Oh, erm no, I’m here with a friend.”

Her eyebrows raised, she took a quick glance around the room. “A friend? Why are they not with you?”

“She’s working, I’m here for support. Her cheerleader on the sideline.” You smiled.

“Ahh, I see. A cheerleader, where are your, how do you say? Pom poms?” She smiled playfully at you.

“Left them at home, didn’t want to upstage her.” You smiled back, taking a drink from your glass.

She laughed at your joke, the sound of her laugh made your stomach flutter.

“It’s a shame, I think it would have made tonight a bit more fun, no?” Her smile was playful as she winked at you.

You had only been talking no more than 5 minutes and you wanted to know everything about this woman. She took a sip from her own glass, taking a confident look down your body, her eyes lingering at your chest, but unlike a man it didn’t feel creepy. It was definitely wanted. You felt your cheeks burning up at the intense way she looked over you. It almost felt like she was undressing you with her hazel eyes.

Before you did willingly undress for the gorgeous women in front of you, you thought you should at least ask a question.

“Are you here for work?”

She smiled, she took another glance over you then around the room. “Sí, for work. But I got distracted.” This time her hazel eyes lingered on your mouth.

Did it send a cold shiver up your now hot body? Yes. But she didn’t need to know that.

“Hmm, you’re not very good at your job if you can be so easily distracted.” You said teasingly. You did your own eyeing up this time, you let your eyes roam her neck line that went down her chest. Her suit made her look powerful and in charge of any situation she was in. And by the looks on her face she was more than happy.

“Hmm, I don’t normally get distracted. But sometimes it’s hard not to be. Especially when I have someone like you I can talk to.”

This woman was oozing confidence, it was almost intimidating, but the playful smile on her face made you want to kiss it off.

“So, you could say I’ve already made your night more fun? Since you were soo bored.”

She laughed again. God, that sexy laugh of hers was so captivating. She stepped a little closer into your space. “Sí, I’m definitely enjoying myself now.”

Fuck, she was honestly the most gorgeous woman you had ever laid your eyes on. She took another glance over your body for good measure. You could have sworn your saw her pupils grow.

You was about to ask for her name, but another women’s voice came in to pop your bubble.

“Ale, et necessiten per a una entrevista ràpida.”

Your GCSE Spanish wasn’t able to translate what she said.

“Estic venint.” The blonde smiled at her Spanish friend. You didn’t think she could be any sexier until you heard her speak in her mother tongue. She looked at you, clearly seeing your confused but turned on expression.

“I have to go, you’ll be at the after party sí?”

You felt giddy, the women clearly wanted to know you as much as you did her.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Might bring my pompoms.” You winked.

Her head tilted back as she laughed. “I can’t wait. Adéu, nena bonica.” She looked over you once more as she walked away with the other Spanish lady. You watched them walk out of them room, into the unknown.

You wasn’t sure what she said but you definitely liked it. You suddenly felt sad at the loss of the mystery woman. You looked around the room for Daisy, she was already looking at you from across the room, a massive smile on her face. She waved for you to come over.

You made your trip over to her, the smile on her face only got wider. You spoke before she could. “Sorry, got completely distracted. How’s it all going?”

Daisy looked at you, a weird expression on her face. “No, you’re good, was you having fun with your new friend?” She looked giddy.

“Erm, yeah I mean she was fucking hot. Did you see her?”

“Yeah, I saw. I didn’t want to interrupt.” She smiled, but her smile was weird. “Did you get her name?”

“No. I think her friend said it, but it was quick Spanish. Are we going to the drinks after?” You asked.

Daisy laughed, almost in disbelief. What was so funny?

“Yeah, we are. Did your friend ask if you were going?”

You smiled, almost bashful. “She did, but I’m here for you, an-“

Daisy put her hand up to your face, stopping you mid sentence. “Please understand I would never get in the way of you having a good time.” She chuckled. “I’ve watched you turn down plenty of girls on our nights out, just because it was our girls night.” She stopped to take a drink from her own glass. “Please don’t worry about me, have fun and don’t miss the opportunity with your new…friend.”

You smiled, you loved your friendship with Daisy it really was rare to have someone like her in your life.

“Thanks, D. Anyways, tell me the goss, whats happening?”

————-

About 40 minutes later you sat down for the award show, you were next to Daisy, only two rows away from the front. She was right about seeing faces you recognised from the telly, but you had only been looking for one face in particular. You had seen her just before taking your seats, she had her Spanish friend following her around, that now come to think of it looked more like an assistant. And you would know, it was also your job.

The lights dimmed and a brunette woman came on stage, you assumed she was an athlete from her body alone. The voice over then came into action.

Voice over - Please welcome your host tonight, England’s Lioness, Lucy Bronze.

The whole room clapped and cheered, she must have been someone big, you knew the lionesses were for women’s football, and maybe if you thought hard enough you had seen Lucy Bronze in the news when they won the…..World cup? Or was it Championship? It was something big.

Awards were passed out and speeches were made. They showed clips of women and girls in different sports, and the challenges they faced around the world just to play sport. It made you realise how little you knew about the topic as a whole and women in sports, it actually made you a little embarrassed.

It was near the end of the show, Lucy came back on stage. “This next award is dedicated to one of the biggest names, in not only women’s football but footballs itself. She even rivals myself with her long list of achievements.” The audience laughed at that. “Please can you give a hand to my friend and my capitana, Alexia Putellas.”

You nudged Daisy. “This is your award!” You clapped even louder, she smiled at you, but once again her smile was weird, maybe she was excited? Or nervous? You clapped and watched the screen begin to play, like it did for each winer of the night, showing a short film of their story in their sport. It was actually a lot more interesting than you would have thought.

The short film started with a ball at a pair of legs, the ball was kicked straight into the back of a goal net, then it panned back to the women who kicked it. Your jaw opened comically, you couldn’t believe your eyes.

You felt Daisy laughing quietly next to you, you looked over at her, shock clear on your face. Was this a joke? You had been flirting with one of the greatest women’s football players? And she was flirting with you?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You whispered harshly.

Daisy laughed even harder, you looked back at the screen, even though you wanted answers, you wanted to watch the movie of the women who had been eye fucking you. And once again you was impressed, the women had done so much in her career.

When the film was over, Lucy walked back to the podium, Daisy’s award now in front of her. Even though she mugged you off and didn’t tell you about Alexia you grabbed her hand and smiled at her, you were so proud of your best friend and her work.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Alexia Putellas.” The audience clapped louder than before. That’s when you saw her, she walked on stage, she hugged Lucy for a few seconds. She picked up her award and smiled.

“Thank you, thank you everyone. This award means a lot to me. It’s not just myself that wins this but all the women in my life that have helped me get to where I am today. So this is for them, thank you for being in my corner and being my cheerleader. Gràcies, thank you.”

You couldn’t stop the stupid smile on your face, did she really just say that? Maybe you were over thinking it, maybe she had already planned to say it and it was just coincidence? Maybe.

The audience clapped and whistled, including yourself. You grabbed Daisy for a hug, her art now belonged to one of the greatest football players in women’s football. Pshh, look at you, already learning a thing or two.

The awards came to an end, you and Daisy made your way to the other room for the after party. It was a bar with a dance floor, but it was dark like a night club, but still had an alogant bar vibe to it. You made your way to a table, as more people started to make their way in.

You sat down, Daisy was standing. “I’ll grab drinks, the usual?”

You smiled up at her. “Please, D.”

She walked over to the bar that was already busy, you looked around the room, trying to not make it too obvious but you were looking for a certain Spaniard. After a few minutes of looking you glanced over your phone, you looked on insta to see if your new friend had an account, your eyes nearly bulged out of your head when you saw she had 3.3 million followers. You really had to get into the world of women’s sport a bit more.

You scrolled looking at her posts, you may have lingered on one or two bikini posts, until someone sat across from you.

“Now, tell me why a pretty girl like you is sitting here all alone and not on the dance floor.” Her Irish accent was clear as day. She had a cheeky face. Like Alexia, her eyes roamed over your body, her eyes were full of mischief. Alexia’s eyes undressed you slowly, but these eyes were fucking you hard from behind, not that you minded.

“I’m waiting for my friend to come back. So no dancing for me.” You smiled. She wasn’t rude or annoying but for some reason you didn’t want Alexia to see you speaking with her. Or maybe you did?

“Oh, she won’t mind if I keep her seat warm for her then.” This girl was very cheeky, you would have loved it any other night, a girl like her would be easily going home with you, but you wasn’t going to full into her charm. She continued.

“I’m guessing you’re not here for the sports, I would definitely remember your face.”

You laughed. “No, not here for the sports, I’m supporting my friend.”

She nodded as she drank her bottle of beer. “Right, gotcha, gotcha.”

“Are you here for the sports?” You asked.

The Irish girl chuckled while she wiped her nose. “I am here for the sport, yeah. I’m a footballer, I play for Arsenal.”

Another football player? Was you their type or something?

“Ohh, sorry. I’m so bad with sports, I don’t have a clue who anyone is.”

She really laughed at that, taking another drink of her beer. “That’s no bother. Are you having a good time? These tings can be awfully boring.”

“I am, it’s not been too bad, meeting new people is always fun.”

She looked at you then, like Alexia she was confident but the mischievousness gave her a cockiness to her, in a sexy way, and if it wasn’t for your new friend you would fall right into her Irish charm, but the Spanish had got a hard hold of your attention.

“Yeah, well I’m having more fun now I’m talking to you.” She smirked at you.

But before you could say anything else a hand landed on your shoulder. You both looked up to see the star of the show.

“Hola, noia bonica. Where are your pom-poms?” She smiled down at you, once again her smile making your insides do somersaults.

You laughed out loud. “Sorry, I must have left them again.” She smiled at the sound of your laugh. She looked over at the Irish girl, who was watching the two of you interact.

“Sorry, I’m not interrupting anything am I? It’s Katie, isn’t it?” The Spaniard smiled down at the girl across from you, you could see the challenge in Alexia’s eyes, waiting for her to say otherwise.

“Yeah, Katie, that’s right. No, you’re grand. Was just getting to know your friend here. She was sat all alone, you don’t want that now, do ya?” She stood up. “But you’re here now. So I’ll let you get back to it.”

“Okay, it was nice to meet you, Katie.” The Spaniard smiled.

“And you Alexia, but it was really nice to meet you.” Katie nodded her head towards you. “Hopefully I can talk to you a little more later.” She smirked at you. “I can’t help it when I see a pretty girl, ya see.” She smirked at Alexia this time, almost like a warning. You felt like you were in the middle of an old western stand off between two cow girls. Was it hot? Fuck yeah! Two gorgeous girls fighting over you, what could be better than that?

You felt the hand on your shoulder tighten slightly. You heard Alexia hum, and smile politely but you could tell from her eyes she wasn’t really smiling. The Irish girl walked away, she winked at you before she disappeared into the crowd. You exhaled the breath you was holding in, looking up at Alexia who also looked a little calmer.

“May I sit?” Alexia motioned to the now vacant chair.

“Please do.”

She sat down, moving the chair a little closer to you.

“I guess congratulations are in order.” You said.

Alexia looked at you, a playful smile crossed her face, her serious demeanour from a few seconds ago completely gone. “Gràcias.”

“I have to say I was a little bit shocked when I saw you pop up on the screen.”

“Ahh yes, did you enjoy it?” She smiled at you almost hopeful.

“Yeah, it was alright.” You looked around pretending to not be fazed. A playful smile on your face.

She laughed, her head tilted back. “You loved it, don’t lie.” She nudged your knee with her own. She continued. “Where is this friend of yours? I’m starting to believe you don’t have any.”

You chuckled. “She’s at the bar, trying to get us a drink, but it’s a bit busy.” You glanced over at the bar.

Alexia looked over and tutted. “Well, if you’d like you and your friend could join me? I have a table, with table service.”

“Well aren’t you generous.” You teased.

“What can I say? I’m a generous girl. I like to give.” She bit her lip at her last words, and my god you nearly melted on the chair.

“Or are you just trying to hide me from a certain Irish girl?” Your smile was playful but also suggestive.

She shock her head, laughing at you. “What? No, I would never! But if it helps to not have all these girls after you, then sí.” She looked at you, almost like she was cautious of what she said.

But she had nothing to worry about, you liked it, you liked the thought of this gorgeous girl not wanting to share you with anyone, and she didn’t even know you.

You leaned in closer to her, you could smell her perfume. “Don’t worry, you have my attention. I’m yours, for now.”

Even in the dark lighting you could see your words had an effect on her, a devilish smirk appeared on her lips. “Mine? I like that.”

Your eyes glistened with mischief, you looked at the blonde’s hazel eyes, she looked like she wanted to take you where you sat.

“I thought you might.” You leaned in closer.

“Merda. You’re naughty. I also like that.” She bit her lip once more, her eyes didn’t move from your lips.

But your bubble was popped again, but this time it was Daisy with your drinks.

“Ahem. Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt.”

You both pulled away. And Daisy said you were bad with your timing, though you could tell by her face she didn’t mean to.

“Alexia, this is Da-“

“Hola Daisy! This is your friend?” Alexia looked between you.

“Hey Alexia, I’ve been wanting to say hi, but I saw you was busy most of the night.” Daisy handed you your drink.

“No, don’t apologise, I’m sorry I haven’t seen you! You’re the one who made my favourite award!” Alexia stood to hug Daisy. It made sense that they had met each other already, Daisy had told you at the pub that the footballer had requested for her specifically to make her award.

Daisy smiled. “I see you’ve met my plus one. I hope she’s keeping herself out of trouble.”

“Erm, I’m not trouble at all, it’s called being fun.” Your smile was playful.

“Sí, she’s no trouble. She’s been the most entertaining part of the event.”

That made you smile, and even Daisy too.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Your best friend laughed.

“I was just saying you two should come sit at my table, I have table service. I don’t want you to be up and down for drinks.”

“Ahh, how sweet of you. Thank you Ale.” Daisy said.

“It’s no problem, come let’s go. My tables just up here.”

Daisy spotted the table and walked, Alexia put her hand out for you to take. And you did, gladly. Her hands were large and strong. She pulled you up easily, she gestured for you to walk in front of her, and of course you made sure to sway your hips as you walked, clearly it’s what she wanted.

You got to the table, there was a few women already there all in their own conversations, One was Lucy, the presenter from earlier, who was in a deep conversation with another brunette woman, who had beautiful doe like eyes. Alexia introduced you all, she explained, that they were her team mates for Barcelona.

“Hey guys, big fan!” Daisy smiled, you could see even in the dark room her cheeks were slightly red.

But before you could sit down someone was shouting for Daisy. “Daisy! Daisy! I have Claude asking for you!”

Daisy turned around to see one of her work colleagues, panic on her face. “The Claude?”

“Yes! Come on.” Her colleague looked panicked but excited.

Daisy looked over at you, a slight panic of what to do.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t want to leave it’s ju-.”

You put your hand up to stop her. “Don’t even finish that line, go and do what you need to do, Daisy. I’m absolutely fine. Go graft girl.”

Alexia then jumped in. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after her Daisy, I promise.”

Your best friend smiled, and squeezed your hand. “Okay, I might be gone a while, if you decide to leave just text me, and please, please tell me you’re home.” She leaned in closer. “Or someone’s going else’s home.” She winked at you, thinking no one heard but by Alexia’s smile she definitely heard.

She continued. “Ale, thank you again for the invitation. We’ll keep in touch, and please look after this one.”

Alexia put her arm around your waist. “I will, don’t worry.”

Daisy gave you a quick hug. “Thank you for coming tonight, have fun and be safe.” Before you could reply she ran over to her colleague, who looked liked they were about to pass out.

You looked over at Alexia, she was pouring two glasses of champagne. She handed you one, making sure to let her fingers linger. She held up her drink for a toast. “To keeping out of trouble.”

You laughed loudly, you clinked your glass and drank the bubbly drink.

You couldn’t help but notice how fucking hot every one of the teammates were, how had you not got into women’s football before? You may have caught a few eyes raking over you, and Alexia definitely did to, if sitting between you and her team mates was anything to go by.

She leaned in close like she did before. “So, how do I still not know the name of the girl that’s distracted me from work?” She purred.

“Hmm, I think your mind was in other places before asking.” You teased and took a swig of your drink.

“You’re right, how rude of me. Let’s start again. I’m Alexia.” She put her hand out for you to take.

You took her hand and smiled. “Nice to meet you Alexia. My names, Y/N.”

She raised your hand to her lips, she kissed the back of your hand, her eyes locked with yours as she did. Fuck, she was smooth.

She repeated your name softly. “I like that name, I like the way it sounds.”

“I like the way it rolls off your tongue.” You were being bold.

She chuckled. “I can do a lot with my tongue.” But she was bolder.

And yeah, your pussy woke up from that.

You spent the next half an hour in your own bubble once again. You both flirted hard but she also asked what you did for work, she explained some bits of her football career that you had seen on her short film. You noticed though she wanted to talk more about you and your life, you didn’t mind, she probably was bored of having to talk about herself tonight.

Even though you were both close to taking off each other’s clothes, you wanted to know more about the Spaniard. She wasn’t like many girls you spoke to, she was confident, charming and witty, but there was also a sense of vulnerability. Though right now her body language was screaming to have you closer. Those same eyes that was undressing you earlier was full of desire, it was almost like she could see exactly how you looked while she fucked you. And you definitely wanted that to be a reality.

But that dahm bubble was popped again.

Alexia’s assistant had appeared, wincing a smile at you both. “Ale, perdó. Algunes preguntes ràpides per a la premsa anglesa.”

Alexia nodded. “Sorry, I just have to do this, I won’t be too long. You’ll be ok, sí?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be okay. You assured her.

She clearly didn’t want to leave you, all of the girls were now on the dance floor, so you’d be alone, clearly not what she wanted.

“Really, go. I’ll stay out of trouble.” You smiled playfully at her.

“Hmm, why do I not believe you.” She chuckled as she slowly walked away.

You watched as she went with her assistant. You went on your phone and sipped on your drink. But just like Alexia had worried you wasn’t alone for long.

“Hola, may I join you?”

You looked up to see another stunning woman, her arms were covered in tattoos, causing your eyes to roam her body. Something she didn’t miss from the smile on her face.

“Oh yeah, sure.”

“Are you here with someone?” She picked up the bottle from the bucket on the table and poured herself a glass, but not without topping up your own glass. You watched as her tattooed fingers wrapped around yours. You had to admit the Spanish girls had such confidence when it came to flirting.

“I’m here with my friend, she’s about but not sure where.” You smiled.

“Ah, just friend? That’s why she doesn’t mind leaving you.”

You were confused. “What do you mean?”

She sat down next to you, right where Alexia sat. “Well, she’s your friend, she doesn’t mind if you talk with others, sí? Because if you were more then my friend, I wouldn’t leave you alone, not with all these girls here.”

“Ohh I see, but what if I have a girlfriend at home?” You challenged playfully.

She drank her drink and shrugged. “She’s at home.” She smiled wickedly at you.

Fuck. These girls were keeping you on your toes.

“My names Mapi.” She put her hand out to shake yours, and as you went to take it a perfect pair of red lips printed on your skin caught yours and Mapi’s eyes.

“Ahh, I’m not the first to talk to you tonight.” She smirked.

You didn’t even realise Alexia had left lipstick on your skin, it sent shivers up your spine, it made you feel like she had already made a statement to mark you as hers.

“I’m Y/N. You’re not the first. ” You smiled.

She continued. “So, your friend. Is she a footballer?” Just like Alexia and Katie, Mapi roamed her eyes up your body, taking in your curves. She smiled as she caught your eyes.

Of course you didn’t mind, if you were going to have anyone look at you in that way you wanted the likes of these girls looking at you. The women’s gaze was the only gaze you wanted. Like Katie, there was no question that you would have had Mapi in your bed tonight. But unfortunately for her you had your eyes set on another Spaniard. Even if she was making it a little difficult for you.

“No, she’s not an athlete, she designed one of the awards.” You took a sip of your drink.

She nodded her head. “Ohh I see, that’s cool.”

“I’m guessing you’re a footballer?” You had a feeling you knew what she was going to say.

She leaned back, displaying a hard six pack, she put her arm over the back of your seat, making her look even more attractive.

“Sí I play for Barcelona. Do you watch football?”

You had to hold back your laugh, of course she played for Barcelona. “I don’t, but I think after tonight I will.”

She laughed, she sat even closer to you, her woody perfume took over your senses. She whispered in your ear. “If you want I can be your first taster.”

Wow, football girls were officially your new type, but before you could respond and politely decline, you heard a voice.

“És clar que hauria de ser tu, Mapi.”

Mapi backed up from you instantly on hearing her captain’s voice. “Què? ella està amb tu?”

Alexia smiled at you. “Sí, però gràcies per fer-li companyia.”

Mapi moved even further from you, putting her her hands up in defence. It might be silly but it was hot to see Alexia once again being jealous over a girl talking to you.

“Ho sento. Ella està calenta. Què puc dir?”

Mapi stood up this time, she drank her drink and looked over at you smirking.

“This is why you shouldn’t be left alone, girls like me come along. Have a good night, noia sexy.”

You chuckled. “It was nice to meet you, Mapi.”

The Spaniard walked closer to Alexia. “Déu meu, tens molta sort. Ella és molt calenta.”

Alexia smiled devilishly at you, her eyes staring straight into yours, it sent a shiver down your spine. It might have been the first time she intimidated you, not that you hated it.

Mapi smiled one last time at you before heading back into the dance floor. Leaving the two of you alone.

Alexia walked over to you, like a lion to its kill. She sat down where Mapi sat. “I leave you for five minutes and you already have another girl on you. You definitely can’t stay out of trouble.” She purred.

“Sorry, it must be a footballer thing.” You teased.

“You’ve had six girls after you, and that’s just from the ones that I know about. Including myself.” She almost sounded annoyed.

“Six?” You questioned.

“Sí, I had three other girls ask about you. But I said you were with me.”

You raised your eyebrows at the blonde, if there was one thing that turned you on about a girl, it was their possessiveness, to a degree of course. But with Alexia it felt like you were in control, she was the one fighting for you and she didn’t even know your last name, you could easily leave tonight without saying another word to her.

Not that you were ever going to do that.

She continued. “Sorry, if it’s too much, you did say you were mine tonight, no?” She smirked at you, she knew you were loving this, she could read you like an open book.

You leaned into her ear, your lips grazed her skin just slightly. “Prove it. Make me yours.”

You almost thought you had said the wrong thing then. Alexia stared at you with a look you couldn’t put your finger on, until she leaned over to your face, her lips inches from yours.

“You might regret that.”

Even the butterflies in your stomach were turned on at this point, this woman was the definition of all your sex dreams. You could feel your body needing her, and she could feel it to.

She continued. “I have a driver outside.”

You didn’t need to hear anything else, you stood up looking at Alexia, she didn’t miss a beat. She grabbed your hand and headed straight to the exit. Within minutes you were in the back of a fancy blacked out Mercedes.

“Can we go to my hotel please.”

“Yes, Ms Putellas.” The driver replied. A blacked out window glided up between you and the driver, giving you and Alexia privacy.

You looked over at the blonde, her hungry eyes were already scanning your body, you had a feeling this girl was going to wreck you. Her eyes caught you own, a devious smile crept on her lips, making your pussy flutter.

“So, you’re all mine?”

“All yours.”

Her lips were on yours in seconds, the kiss was rough and messy, you tried to dominate the kiss but you didn’t try too hard. Not when Alexia was kissing you the way she was, she licked her tongue over your lips, wanting entry and you gave it to her easily.

And wow she could kiss, it might sound silly but her kisses felt different to an English girl, it was like her tongue had more control over its movements. Though, you had heard before that Spanish girls were one of the best for giving head, it was something to do with their tongues, the way they moved it when they spoke. Maybe you’d be able to put it to the test.

You groaned in pleasure as she kissed you deeper, her hands snaked into your hair, pulling you impossibly closer. You pulled back for air, but she only pulled you back again, wanting your mouth on hers. You could tell she was as desperate for you as you was her, she let out a small moan as you pressed your tongue into her mouth.

Her red lipstick had all but disappeared by the time you got to her hotel.

You hadn’t realised how nice of a hotel it was when you entered. Her room was over looking the Thames and most of London’s skyline, making the room glow from the city’s lights.

You walked towards the window looking over the city, it was always one of your favourite views at night. Other than a naked woman in your bed.

That’s when you felt the Spaniard move your hair gently to one side, her hot lips pressed against the back of your neck. She hummed into you, making your skin cover in goosebumps. She smiled into the kiss, she obviously felt what she was doing to you. You whimpered as she kept her mouth working on you, her hands gripping your waist.

You were on cloud nine, Alexia’s mouth and body pressed up against you like this made the city lights look blurry. She moved your body around to face her, she leaned closer into you, her hazel eyes roamed your face, landing on your lips. Even in the dark her eyes glowed like gold, her eyes reminded you of a cat hunting at night. The atmosphere changed from fast and quick to soft and sensual.

“Can I get you anything? A drink? Tea?” She smiled.

“No thanks, just want you.”

She hummed. “What do you want from me?”

“To fuck me. Do what you want with me.”

“Merda.” She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She must have liked what you said as you were suddenly being picked up like a rag doll, like you was nothing. Your legs wrapped around her waist as she walked you to the bedroom. Your back hit the wooden door as you entered her room, she was on your neck with her sweet mouth, kissing you, her hips pressing you hard against the door.

“What can’t I do?” She whispered.

“I’ll tell you if it’s too much.” You rasped

“Any safe words?” She kissed your lips.

“Red, yellow and green?”

“Sí.” She husked.

“Same for you?”

“Sí, the same for me.”

You were thrown on the bed, your back hitting the mattress, once again you couldn’t believe the strength of the girl in front of you. She climbed on top of you, her lips attacking your neck, she had already worked out it was your sweet spot, making you moan as her lips sucked and licked on your skin. She was definitely making a mark, and normally you wouldn’t have it, you wouldn’t walk around with a love bite on show, but with Alexia you wanted it. You wanted to look in the mirror and remember it was her that gave it to you. That claimed you.

Her hand stroked up your thigh, pushing the slit of your dress up, inching higher to where you needed her. You were wet, you could feel your thong becoming drenched, you could feel your skin sticking to the thin fabric. Her hips pushed into you, she was clearly finding her self composure hard to control. Her fingers traced over your sensitive skin, between your thighs, teasing you, maybe even teasing herself.

“Please.” You whispered.

“Please what?” She smiled as she kissed down your chest.

“Please, I need you.”

“Hmm, you need me?” She purred.

“Yes.” Your voice was desperate.

“How much?” She started to move your straps of your dress down your shoulders, revealing your black laced bra.

“Since I saw you.” Your voice almost broken as she attached her lips to the top of your breast.

“Hmm, that’s a long time. You must be desperate?”

“I a- am. Fuck!” Your voice strained as she attached her mouth to your perked nipple. You didn’t even notice she had opened your bra, she had taken advantage of the front clasp. Thank god for front clasps.

Her mouth was perfect, she sucked and bit on your nipple, making you groan, your hand tangled in her blonde hair. She bit at your flesh, then sucked again to soothe the pleasurable pain. The noise you let out was loud, she smiled up at you, clearly enjoying her view.

“You’re loud. I like that.”

You couldn’t form words, you groaned and tugged gently at her hair as she moved to your other nipple. One of her hands were still in between yours thighs, slowly tracing her fingers up and down your sensitive skin. She was driving you mad, and she knew it. Her hips relentlessly pushed into your core, making you moan again and again.

“Please, Alexia.” You felt like you could have cried, you were that desperate. Your pussy was aching, needing something. Needing her.

You felt her chuckle into your skin, her fingers finally, but just barely touched the fabric over your pussy.

“Merda, estàs molt mullat.” She rasped.

You didn’t have a clue what she was saying but fuck, did it make you wet. She could be calling you every name under the sun and you didn’t care. As long as she was saying it.

“Is this all for me?” She began to sit up.

“Yes.” You nodded your head, you couldn’t help but wonder how desperate you must have looked. “All for you.”

“You really are trouble, aren’t you?”

“Only if you want me to be.” God this girl was making you a mess, you was putty in her hand and she hadn’t even touched you.

She watched you as she started to remove her jacket, her smile never leaving her face. You sat up at the end of the bed, you helped pull the arms down, and you were right, she was completely naked underneath. All night she had been walking around with nothing on, she clearly had a lot of trust in the jacket.

Her full breast was now on show, you let out an appreciative sigh. She was fucking gorgeous. You kissed her tight stomach, you watched as her muscles flexed from your mouth. Her hands stroked into your hair, sending a shiver down your spine. You kissed and licked at her beautiful olive skin, kissing up to the line of where her trousers sat. You looked up at her, bitting your lip asking for permission.

She nodded, watching you like a hawk. You popped open the button and slowly pulled her zip down, revealing more skin, and the start of her red laced thongs. Before you could pull her trousers down she cupped your chin, making you face her. She gently ran her thumb over your bottom lip.

“You’re so beautiful. So many girls wanted you tonight, so many eyes were on you. But you chose to be with me. I am very lucky.”

You felt yourself blush, one minute she had you begging to be fucked, now she had you going red and shy.

“You had eyes on you too, I saw the way people looked at you.”

She smiled then, but it wasn’t her normal smile you had seen all night, it almost looked a little sad. But you didn’t have time to question it, she shuffled out of her trousers letting them hit the floor. She stood you up, pulling your dress over your head, you were both now only in your underwear.

You moved your mouth to her breast, and sucked on her sensitive nipple. You heard her suck in a breath, her hands going straight to your hair. You gave her breast the attention that they deserved, sucking, biting and kissing on the blushed coloured flesh. She groaned softly, her eyes were closed enjoying the sensation of your mouth. You let go of the flesh with a loud popping sound. Letting your lips rub against her.

She opened her eyes, the golden hazel colour you had seen earlier had now nearly disappeared. She pushed you on the bed once more. Your thongs were being pulled down your thighs, you both saw the wetness attached to the fabric, the smile on her face turned devilish.

“You’re mine, sí?”

“Yes. All yours.”

She climbed on top of you, peppering kisses down your body, it felt like she kissed every possible bit of flesh on your body. Then she was in between your legs. Her teeth sunk into your thighs, making you whimper. She soothed the red mark with her tongue, kissing and licking.

Then finally, her tongue licked through your very wet folds. You wasn’t sure who groaned louder. Her tongue licked through you again, and again and again, until she was in a rhythm. What you heard about Spanish girls was right, it was a whole different sensation. She dipped her tongue into your cunt, making you groan, your hands grabbed her head, pushing her deeper as she fucked you with her tongue.

“Alexiaaa! Fuck!”

She glided her tongue up to your clit, wrapping her full lips around your bundle of nerves. And fuck, you were already close. But who could blame you? She’d worked your body up to the point of tears. She sucked and licked at your sensitive flesh, your hands were still in her hair, moving her how you wanted her. Not that you needed to do much, she knew what she was doing, her mouth was perfect. Your eyes closed as you started feeling your orgasm approaching, your stomach tightening, feeling the warmth glide over your body.

“I’m close, please don’t stop.”

But she did. She moved her mouth away from you, you could see your juices all over her chin and lips, she looked breathtaking.

“Nooo! I was so cl-.”

Then you felt her fingers at your entrance. She thrusted two fingers into you, cutting off your words. You let out a deep throaty moan, as her thick fingers began to thrust into you.

“Not until I say you can.”

Fuck, she really was the girl of your dreams.

You nodded, wanting to be good for her. You couldn’t help but find it a little worrying at how easy it was for Alexia to see right though you. How easy she could get you begging, denying your orgasm, leaving marks all over your body and you had only met her a couple of hours ago. And you thought you were in control?

“Bona noia.” She whispered.

She began to thrust deeper, her fingers pushing against your soft flesh, pushing your body to control what it desperately needed. You couldn’t stop the moans slipping out of your mouth, her fingers were talented, just like her mouth. You watched her strong arm flex at her movements.

“You will take my dick. Sí?”

She had a strap? This girl was made in heaven.

“Yes, yes.” You cried.

“Good. You want to come like this?”

“Your mouth and fingers. Please!.” You begged.

She chuckled deeply. She leaned back down and attached her lips to your clit again, making you scream. She hummed against your core, your hand tangled in her hair as you felt your climax approaching. You looked down to see those golden hazel eyes staring at you. You pushed your hips into her mouth, grinding her tongue on your swollen clit. Her fingers were relentless, your thighs started to shake, your fingers pulled at her hair, pushing her closer to your sex. You came hard, Alexia’s name rolling off your tongue as your body shuddered.

She stayed there, well she had to, you didn’t let her go. You thrusted your hips, taking every bit of her tongue. She lapped up your ever flowing juices, slurping and swallowing, making you gasp and whimper. You finally let go of her hair, but she didn’t move, she traced her tongue all over your pussy, kissing and sucking. Her strong hands kept your hips down, not able to move.

“Ale… fuck. Alexia, baby, please.” You gently gasped.

She didn’t move, she was in her own world, tasting you, eating your cunt like it was her last meal. You groaned gently, letting her take what she wanted from you. You could feel another orgasm already building back up. She finally stopped, she must have felt your body tensing, she wasn’t going to let you come again that quickly.

“You taste so good baby.”

She kissed your thighs as she climbed up to your face, kissing you gently. You groaned at tasting yourself on her tongue, her smile once again making your stomach flutter.

Alexia jumped off the bed, you tried to catch your breath as you watched her rummage around in her suitcase. You pushed yourself on your elbows, watching the Spaniard attaching her harness, a 7 inch dildo sat between her strong thighs.

“So, do you always carry your harness around?” You teased.

She chuckled. “Sí, it’s my travel harness.”

You laughed loud, this girl was ridiculous.

She continued. “Are you complaining? I can take this off?”

You shock your head, eyes wide. “No. Sorry.”

She smirked, she turned back around in her suit case and pulled out a black tie.

“I think I might have to tie you up, you’ve been trouble all night.”

You nodded, you put your hands in front of you for her to tie. You could feel your pussy throbbing again. She stepped in front of you, her dick inches from your body.

“Uh-ah, hands behind your back baby.” Her tone was soft.

You stood up, turning around to allow her to tie your wrist. She ever so gently bounded your hands together, it was tight, you couldn’t get I out of it if even if you tried. Your breathing picked up, you could feel your legs shaken in anticipation.

She moved your hair to the side like she did before, her lips gently kissed up your neck, her mouth was close to your ear.

“If it’s too much, tell me baby. I’ll stop straight away. Okay?”

You nodded. “Okay, thank you. I’m green.”

She continued to kiss your neck, her hands snaked up to your breast squeezing gently. You groaned from her touch, as her large hands roamed your breast.

“M'encanten els sorolls que fas.” She whispered.

“Fuck, Ale.”

“Yes, baby?” Her lips were hot on your skin driving you mad.

“I love it when you speak to me like that.”

“In Catalan? You like it?” She purred.

“Yes.” Your hips moved backwards.

She chuckled at your lack of patience. “Ets la meva bona noia.”

You groaned again, your hips pushed back, hitting her dick on your arse.

“Get on your knees and show me what your pretty mouth can do.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You turned around to stand in front of her and dropped to your knees, you took the tip of her dick in your mouth and sucked.

Her hands were in your hair instantly. You pushed your mouth further on the length of her dick, swallowing her inch by inch. You pulled back to catch your breath, you could feel yourself becoming wet all over again. You looked up at the Spaniard, she looked as wrecked as you felt, you could see was clenching her jaw, her eyes were full of lust.

“You look so good.” She whispered.

You took a deep breath as you took her back into your mouth. She groaned looking down at you, she watched your mouth take her more than half way. She gently pushed your head to take more of her, but you began to choke. You pulled back again, tears began to prick at your face.

“Take a deep breath baby, relax your throat.” She stroked your cheek, she looked deep in your eyes, almost lovingly. You would have laughed if her dick wasn’t shoved in your mouth, the girl could switch up her tone so easily.

You nodded, you took another deep breath and slowly took her in again, you felt her hand at the back of your head, guiding you further down her dick. You got past the halfway point, you could feel the tip of her dick touching the back of your tongue. A single tear fell from your eye as you pushed yourself. Her hand was still on your head, she pushed her dick slowly but firmly into the back of your throat, your nose just touching her stomach.

“That’s it baby, just like that. You’re doing so good.” She rasped.

You pulled back slightly, then slowly took her back in your throat, her hands tightening in your hair. Spit started to drip from your mouth, as you kept sucking on her dick. She started to gently move her hips in time with your movements, pushing herself further down your throat. It made you gag, but she kept her hand on your head.

“Breathe, baby. Breathe. You’re doing so good.”

And you did, you calmed your breathing and pushed on her dick. A few more tears trickled down your cheeks. She thrusted her hips again, slowly and gently, never taking her eyes off of you.

“You look so beautiful on your knees for me. If only all those girls could see you now, taking me like this.” She groaned.

You moaned at her words, you loved a girl that spoke to you during sex, it turned you on to no end. And her accent only made it that much hotter. Your pussy was throbbing, aching to be touched again, but you wanted so badly to please Alexia.

Her hips started to pick up pace, her thick dick sliding in and out of your throat. You could hear her breathing becoming shallow. She easily took control over your movements, not that you had any real choice, your hands tied behind your back put you under her complete control. And you loved it.

“Tal qual, Tal qual. Sí.” She groaned. “So good.”

Your wet slurping noise filled the room, spit dribbled down your mouth and on to the floor. The strap was hitting Alexia perfectly on her clit, she had been turned on as much as you so she wasn’t far from her own orgasm.

“Merdaa. Your mouth is perfect. Just take a little more baby.”

And you did, Alexia fucked your throat until her legs started to tremble. Her moaning got louder, you could tell she found that sweet spot as her hips thrusted faster, You pushed yourself as hard as you could, as she used your mouth to reach her own orgasm. She was mumbling a mixture of Catalan and English as she was tipping over the edge.

“Estic venint! I’m coming!” She pushed your head down the whole length of her dick as she came. Your nose was pressed against her hard stomach as she rutted against the base of her strap.

“Merda, merda.” She whispered, she pulled your head back gently, just as you began to choke.

“Oh Déu meu, I can’t feel my legs, you were so good baby. Are you okay?” She rasped, her hands stroked your face so gently. You breathed hard, trying to catch your breath, tears streaming down your face as you coughed.

“Y-yeah. I’m good.” You panted. Smiling up at the blonde.

“You were so good for me. Come.” She picked you up to your feet easily. She kissed your swollen lips gently. “Colour?”

“Green.” You husked.

“Okay, are your arms okay?” She wiped away your tears, smiling at you.

You nodded. “Yeah.” You felt your stomach flutter.

“Good, I want to fuck you from behind, like this. Is that oka-“

“Yes, yes. It’s okay. Please. Do it, please.” Fuck, she had officially wrecked you.

Alexia’s eyebrows raised in shock, she started to smirk. “She’s still desperate, that’s okay. I’ll fix that.”

She turned you around facing the bed, you felt her hand gently push your body down to lay. Your arms were still tied behind your back, once again you were under Alexia’s control. You couldn’t believe tonight had turned into this, you had only gone to out support your best friend and now was about to be railed by the girl of your dreams. Best. Night. Ever.

She moved your body to how she wanted you. The side of your face was pressed into the mattress, and your arse was in the air, you were lined up perfectly to her dick. She stroked her hand down your back, looking at the beautiful site in front of her. She could see you was dripping. Your thighs were wet.

“You are perfect.” She stroked her fingers through your folds, making you whimper.

She didn’t want to wait around anymore, she’d pictured you in many different ways tonight, and finally she was living her dreams.

She pushed the head of her dick slowly into you, and it was thick. Her hands grabbed hold of your waist, you both gasped as she pushed the rest of herself inside, making you stretch. She began to roll her hips, already loving the small noises you were making for her. In this position she had full control over you. And like the submissive little bitch that you were, you loved it.

“Fuck, you take me so well. Look at you. You’re mine, Sí?”

“Yes!” You cried.

Her hips began to thrust at a hard pace, making you cry out. Her hips were strong, the noises of her skin slapping your skin was erotic. The room was drowning in your whimpers and moans as the Spaniard fucked you like she owned you. And that’s exactly what she was doing, you’d told her you was hers tonight, she was fucking you like you was hers.

“You’re mine? Tell me.” She demanded.

“Y-yes. I’m y-yours. Yours.” You struggled to speak.

Your mumbles were incoherent, you were seeing stars as her hips kept up a relentless pace. You wasn’t going to come like this, you could feel your orgasm teetering but you needed your clit to be touched.

“Alexia, please. Touch me.”

“Not yet baby, we come together.” She panted out.

You wanted to argue but you were scared she would deny your orgasm completely. So you kept quite and took what she gave you, it wasn’t like you wasn’t loving her fucking you like this. However, you didn’t take in to consideration the stamina this girl possessed. You had been with many different types of girls, but never a footballer, not a professional athlete. And my god she made your body work. She had you going like this for another 20 minutes.

And those 20 minutes were heaven and hell. Your body was going limp, sweat ran down your back as she thrusted into you. You felt her strong hand squeezeyour arse cheeks, guiding you up and down on her dick, moving you around like her own personal sex toy. Your clit was crying out to be touched. But, finally, by the sounds of her breathing and moaning she sounded close herself. Her nails dug into your skin as she pushed herself against the strap, the pressure was just right as she rubbed her clit against the base, causing her to go deeper inside your core.

“Take it baby, take it.” She groaned.

Your eyes rolled at the back of your head. She moved her fingers on to your clit, she hardly needed to touch you before your body started to jerk. Her fingers rubbed beautifully at your bundle of nerves, making you plead for her to not stop.

“I love the way you beg. It drives me crazy. Come for me, you’ve been so good.” Alexia panted.

An animalistic cry escaped your mouth as your orgasm hit you. Your pussy pulsated hard around her dick, and Alexia didn’t stop, she thrusted her hips deep, pulling your tight walls, making you almost pass out. And she was right behind you, her orgasm took over her body, she leaned forward, grabbing the back of your neck, pushing your face into the mattress. Her hips roughly doubled down her pace. The air in your lungs was being forced out from her sheer strength.

A deep, rumble like moan escaped her lips, as she came. Her hips slowed down to a stop. She gently pulled out of you, you cried out as you felt the warmth of her body leaving you.

“You’re so perfect. Merda.”

You felt her untie your hands, she helped you guide them forward, knowing they would be a little stiff now. You moaned from the ache in your muscles, you could just about move your arms. Your wrists were red, that was definitely going to leave a mark for a while. Another mark to remember her by. You felt her guide you on your back, it nearly took your breath away how fucking good she looked, her face was flushed, her hair a little bit of a mess and her smile was dopey.

“You okay? What’s your colour?”

“I’m green, green everywhere.” You laughed quietly. “Your colour?” Even though she was mostly the one in control you still wanted to make sure she was okay.

She smiled, she looked surprised to be asked. “I’m green, thank you, cariño. I’m going to run a bath.” She was gone all of a sudden. It made you suddenly realise you were in Alexia’s room, in her space, in her way. You felt a little dazed, you stood up on shaky legs, you were looking around for your clothes, trying to get out of the girls way.

Alexia came back into the room, she watched you a little confused. “What are you doing?”

You jumped, suddenly feeling a lot more shy. “Oh sorry, I don’t want to be in your way.”

She stepped closed to you. A serious expression on her face. “I don’t want you to leave. You can if you want to. But I want you to stay, relax your body in the bath, you will be sore.” She smirked.

You felt a little calmer, her eyes were watching you for any indication of what you were thinking. She must have realised you were overthinking it all. She continued. “Please, I don’t fuck girls and kick them out. Let me look after you.” She kissed the back of your hands, never taking her eyes off of you.

You nodded, your hands crept up her neck, pulling her closer towards you. She closed the gap with her lips attached to your own. It was slow and sensual, it was what you needed after the sex you just had. She picked you up, again the strength of this girl was unbelievable. She walked you to the bathroom, putting you on the cabinet side, you squealed from the cold service on your cheeks.

“Sorry baby.” She genuinely looked sorry.

“No it’s okay. I can take it.”

That made her smile. “Hmm, I saw from tonight that you can take a lot.” She purred in your ear.

She had made you a bubble bath, you felt almost a little embarrassed at how you felt earlier, trying to rush out. Though sometimes being fucked from an inch of your life could bring up emotions like that, that’s clearly why she was doing this for you. She understood.

She helped you get in, it was perfect. You laid back and relaxed, allowing the hot water to relax your muscles. She left you to be alone for about 10 minutes, until you needed her again. It scared you, you were feeling a little too attached to a girl you hadn’t even known a day.

“Ale.”

She came in, a beautiful smile on her face, she looked a little tired. It made you think about her leaving for tomorrow. Would you ever see her again? She stroked your hair back behind your ear. Kissing your forehead. She helped you out of the bath, and into the room, she helped you to dry your body, her lips kissing your back. Making you gasp. She laid you on the bed, sleep was taking over your body, you then heard what sounded like a shower and then sleep took you for the night.

——————

You woke the next morning to a hot kisses on your back, you almost forgot where you were until you could hear Alexia hum against your skin. Her lips were all over your back, making you moan, it was the best kind of way to wake up, well, that was until she guided you on your back.

“Good morning. I hope you don’t mind but, I really want to taste you.”

She stared up at you as she kissed your stomach. Your sleepy daze hadn’t left you yet, your arms ached from last night. But my god there was no way you’d say no to this.

You nodded your head. “Please.” Your morning voice was rougher then normal, you was desperate for this women all over again.

She was between your legs in seconds, she was just as desperate as you, she sucked and licked on your clit until you came twice for her. Your tired hips gently fucked her face, your hands twisted in her hair, pushing her head against you as you came on her tongue. You felt her moan, as she swallowed your juices. Now that was a way to wake up.

You looked down at her beautiful morning face, her eyes were still sleepy, her smile was a little dazed. God this girl was beautiful.

“Let me please.” You whispered. You hadn’t got to taste the gorgeous woman in front of you yet, it felt criminal that you hadn’t had your mouth on her.

You could see even in her sleepy haze that she wanted it too but that vulnerable side you saw last night had creeped back up. She climbed up your body and laid next to you, for the first time she looked nervous, you wanted to make sure she knew she was wanted.

“You look so beautiful, Ale.” You kissed her lips gently.

You kissed her neck, sucking on parts of her skin that made her squirm. The roles seemed to have reversed this morning, she was the one submitting to you, her whimpers and moans made your head spin. You lowered yourself between her legs, she was dripping.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, Ale. All for me?” She nodded, her lips between her teeth. “Sí.”

You didn’t wait around, you dipped your tongue through her velvety folds, her juices covered your tongue as you finally got to taste her. You had wondered what she tasted like the majority of the night, wondered what she would sound like while you sucked on her clit. And it was better than anything you could have imagined. She was perfect, she was your new favourite flavour.

You lapped up at her wet cunt, stroking and gliding your tongue through her sensitive flesh. Making sure to miss her clit, you just wanted to stay there all day, listen to her make those sweet noises. It was the first time you were really getting to hear her, she’d only grunted and moaned last night, but now you got to really hear her. You were shocked at how delicate she sounded, how desperate she was, the sounds you were dragging out of her made your head spin. It was a complete 360 from her confident, dominant self. Maybe that’s why she looked so nervous.

You felt her fingers glide into your hair, pulling at your scalp.

“Please stop teasing. Please.”

You stopped your movements. “What was that baby?”

She whined. “Please, I need you.”

“You need me?” You quickly licked her clit. Her body jolted, her body was more wound up than you thought.

“Sí. I need you.”

Another lick. She gasped.

“Hmm, are you mine?”

“Sí. I’m yours. Please.”

Well, that was easier than you would have liked. So you kissed her clit, wanting to tease her. She cried out, she pulled your hair to try and get you where she needed you, and you didn’t want to tease her no more, not when she looked close to tears.

You wrapped your lips around her bundle of nerves and sucked. Her back arched of the mattress as she fucked your face, her hands pulled your closer to her sex. Once again you were under her control, but you really didn’t mind, as long as she came in your mouth that’s all you cared about.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop.” Her legs were shaken, her high pitched whines became loud, you was certain the people either side of you could hear her.

“Merda!” She pushed your head down, keeping you where she needed you as she came in your mouth. Her juices gushed in your mouth, her hands in your hair didn’t allow you to move. You swallowed every drop as she snaked her hips slowly, feeling your skilful tongue. She breathed hard as she let go, you looked up to see her chest rising and falling. She felt like she had been to heaven and back.

“Wow, I don’t know if I known English anymore.” She chuckled, her hand over her face. You could see her cheeks were flushed.

You crawled up to her face, kissing her deeply, she moaned as both your flavours blended in your tongues. You spent another half an hour cuddled up in her sheets, you traced your fingers on her tattoos, you wondered what they stood for. Your bubble of bliss was interrupted when her phone alarm went off.

She groaned, turning off the noise. You suddenly felt dread, you knew what that meant. You had to leave, and get on with your life and she went back to Barcelona. You felt like you were loosing something you never even had. Someone you met less then 24 hours ago who suddenly felt like someone whose side you never wanted to leave.

“I have to get ready for my flight.” She sounded sad, maybe even angry. She turned around and kissed your cheek. You both got ready to leave. It was quiet between you, the atmosphere had changed from fast and hungry to, silent and sad.

Suddenly she was behind you, her warm body pressed against your back. She whispered in your ear. “Would you visit?”

“In Barcelona? Yes.” You whispered back.

She pulled you closer, her lips back on your neck.

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

“You’re mine?”

“Fuck, yes.”

She had you pressed up against the wall, her fingers pressed against your clit, as she gave you your third orgasm of the morning. You told her you was hers throughout.

She arranged for a taxi to pick you up. You were in your dress from the night before, you clearly looked like were doing the walk of shame. She pulled out a thick cream Nike jumper from her suitcase and started to pull it over your head. Your senses were surrounded by her smell. It made you feel warm and soft inside. Fuck.

She walked down with you to the taxi, you felt a mix of emotions, you wanted nothing more than to stay with this girl, but you were from two different worlds. You didn’t regret last night but the feelings that had come with it were maddening, you’d been with girls like this before, but there was something different about Alexia. And she felt it to.

She pulled you in for hug, she kissed your lips with so much passion, you could feel the emotion behind it. She pulled back, holding your face in her large hands. She looked you in your eyes, her hazel orbs searched your face.

“My cheerleader.” She chuckled.

You laughed out loud, making the Spaniard smile. Fuck this was hard. She pulled the hoody over your head and pressed another kiss to your mouth.

“Goodbye, cariño.”

“Bye, Alexia.”

She watched you get in the back of the cab, and closed the door behind you. The car started to pull away, you watched as she stood there, watching you drive away. She stayed until you turned the corner.

And she was gone.

I hope you liked it, I very much enjoyed writing it. I’ve used Google for the translation, so apologies for anything being wrong! This a one shot for now, but will add to it later.

#woso smut #alexia putellas #woso x reader #woso #smut #alexia x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas x imagine #woso community #woso soccer #alexia putellas smut #woso fanfics #woso imagine

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bridgetotheskyyy · 1 year ago

Text

chapter three.

masterlist

Chapter summary: You and the Sand Siblings go on vacation and, in the process, you and Gaara grow closer . . .

Chapter warnings: violence near the end, mentions of gambling lol, sexual tension, angst

Word count: 12k

A/N: (I encourage everyone to read the notes of this chapter from my ao3 as they're quite extensive lol)

Read on ao3 here

The paper stack damn near reached the ceiling.

You stared at it. “Wow.”

“Yep.” Kankuro approached the chair, slouched into it. “This is what it looks like when a war ends and you put off all the serious stuff.”

The paperwork pile was hardly the most eye-catching thing in the office; Kankuro had brought Crow, Kuroari, and another puppet, whose name you hadn’t learned, into the room. They slumped against potted plants, readied for polishing or tweaking the moment their daddy required a break from the workload.

Still, your eyes returned to the pile and wondered how many of the sheets referred to the Kazekage’s imminent marriage. How many mentioned you by name?

Your brow quirked. “What kind of serious stuff?”

“Boring stuff.” Kankuro yawned as he swiveled in the Kazekage’s chair. “Only thing that makes it bearable is knowing I won’t have to see any of this stuff for the next few days.” He shot his fists into the air. “The beach!”

“The beach!” You echoed. A thought occurred. “Have you ever been to one?”

“No.” Kankuro chuckled, kicking feet up on the desk, arms behind his back. “I’m like you; desert child through and through. Never even seen one. Can’t wait.”

“But you’re a shinobi!” You said. “I bet you’ve been all around.”

“I have,” Kankuro said. “But, I don’t know, it just never happened.” He looked out the window, where the day was uncharacteristically clear. A smile tugged on his lips for reasons eluding you. “When you’re a shinobi, you get to go to lots of exotic locales, but there’s not a lot of time for sightseeing.”

Your gaze climbed the bodies of the puppets with awe. “Such amazing powers you all have.”

“Don’t be so quick to envy us,” Kankuro said. “It’s not a very glamorous life; you’re usually fighting for your life or trying to take somebody else’s.”

“At least you get to determine your life.” You barely heard yourself in your reverie. “Or, if you don’t like it, fight to get out of it.”

“Yeah?” The Kazekage’s chair creaked; Kankuro must have leaned forward in it. “And what are you fighting to get out of, (Y/n)?”

You sobered, turning your head to see Kankuro staring. “Hm? Oh — Sorry, I was just …”

“(Y/n).” Kankuro was serious now. “Temari wasn’t too hard on you the other day, was she? Look, I know she can be scary — uh, most of the time — but, when you get to know her, she’s —”

“What? No! I—” You swallowed, surprised by yourself. What was wrong with you? You couldn’t black out like that! “I don’t — know where my head went just now!”

For seconds more, he was quiet, only watching you inquisitively. You felt spotlighted.

The hand of the analog clock at the wall caught your eye. Nearly noon.

“I better go get Gaara.” You headed to the door.

“You’re sure you’re all right?” Kankuro asked from behind.

“Yes, definitely,” You hastened, only to halt your hand at the knob. “Oh, by the way, how exactly are we getting to the beach?”

Another smile tugged at Kankuro’s lips as he pulled a cloth forth from the desk drawer, likely for polishing. “Oh, that’s a surprise.”

You continued self-flagellating as you traipsed through the halls of the Kazekage’s palace, attempting to find a way out of its maze.

What was wrong with you? Like being a shinobi would give you more power over your life, access to your fate. Hideo was a shinobi. Did he control his fate?

Did anyone?

You were controlling your fate now — rebelling against your father, choosing Gaara and his siblings. You had grabbed the rope of fate.

You only hoped it didn’t slip from your grasp, burn your hand in the free fall.

You caught eyes with someone as they rounded the corner opposite you. Someone familiar … Rough lines creasing his aged face, Suna council garb —

“Elder Joseki,” You greeted.

Joseki’s eyes widened imperceptibly upon recognizing you. “Lady (Y/n),” he drawled. “I hope you’re enjoying your stay in the Sand.”

“Yes,” You replied coolly. “It’s been most pleasant. Thank you.”

Joseki studied you with a demeaning glare, the same one he had fixed you with at the party a century ago. You couldn’t tell if it was you he was displeased with or the world.

“And,” he began, “I’m guessing Lord Kazekage hasn’t told you anything of … importance?”

“He’s told me enough.”

“Has he?”

You matched his cold stare with your own. “Your dislike of the Kazekage seems personal.”

Joseki advanced. “He’s more dangerous than you know, my lady. More dangerous than you can conceive. Do not buy into his act; the villagers are still deeply afraid of him, they only pretend to love him.” He clenched his fist. “Seas could not contain the amount of blood that boy has shed.”

You hardened yourself to his speech. “Personal, and most unpatriotic.”

“I only hope you will reconsider,” Joseki urged. “Return to your village before it is too late, and you are trapped here with more enemies than friends.”

“If you insist on riddles, I’m leaving.” You hurried past him.

“Going where?”

You stared crookedly at him. What right did he have to be so forward? So familiar? You had no reason to answer, but a desire to bite back at him corrupted you. “If you must know, the Kazekage and his siblings are taking me on a trip.”

Joseki’s eyes went wide, his skin paling. “You — You can’t be left alone with him!”

“You have stepped out of bounds, Elder.” Your voice was harsh. “We have nothing further to say to one another.”

“Lady (Y/n), wait —!”

But you were already on your way, blocking Joseki from your mind.

You were so sick of paranoid old men.

He’s just like father … a pathetic old man, all of them.

You found Gaara asleep at his desk in the greenhouse, surrounded by the small cacti he fathered and loved so much.

You tiptoed forward to see his face, plastered, along with his arms, against his desk. You had never seen him so vulnerable. Gaara’s eyelids, rimmed with coal-black, were closed, and his lips parted to exhale gentle breaths expanding his chest.

So cute.

And intimate.

Just days ago, you had sat in the same chair and told Gaara about your brother’s death. You squirmed with the memory. You refused to think of Father’s letter, the allegations that Gaara had been the one to …

Gaara stirred in his sleep. You hated to wake him — and considered against it. You leaned forward —

Something caught your eye. You turned your head. Behind a series of tall plants, something large loomed in the shadows. Something made of sand.

You tiptoed away from Gaara, synchronizing your steps with his gentle snores. Brushing banana leaves aside, you saw:

It was a sand-made statue of a woman. Short-haired and kind-eyed, along with the prettiest hands you had ever seen. It was only a second or two before you realized who she must be.

Karura.

You made your way back to Gaara and leaned over his shoulder. With a loving begrudge, you began to rouse him.

“Gaara …!” You gently nudged his shoulder. “Gaara!”

His eyes cracked — flew open.

He shot up. You were face to face. Your lips almost touching —

“Eep!” You jumped away as his face turned red. “I’m sorry!”

“No …” Gaara looked around as though surprised by himself. “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“Can’t tell you how much I didn’t want to wake you.”

He smiled. “I catch up on sleep now whenever I can; I guess I sleep deeper than I thought.”

“That’s a good thing,” You assured him. He works so hard as the Kazekage that Kankuro taking over gives him time to breathe.

Gaara’s eyes roved over you, an arm roped over the chair. “You look nice.”

You admired yourself; you had been more casual in your dress since Temari had taken you shopping. A white shirt, underneath which was some fishnet you had become smitten with and borrowed from Temari’s closet (she said if you wore it some might mistake you for being a shinobi, which only made you want to wear it more) and simple black pants were what you choose to go with today.

“Thank you.” You hung your head bashfully — only to be reminded of the statue and redirected your gaze toward it.

Gaara followed your attention. He stiffened. “You saw it …”

You met his eye and shared the vulnerability swimming there. “I … hope you’re not mad; I wasn’t trying to snoop, I … It’s very pretty.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s of her, isn’t it?” You said. “Your mother.”

Karura. The modest woman with the pretty name. You had only seen small portraits of her here and there, tiny mementos her children clung to in their efforts to never forget her.

“Yes,” Gaara said, rising from his chair to approach the statue. “I was inspired last night. I’m never really satisfied with the work I do.”

“Don’t say that.” You followed him, feet instinctively carrying you wherever he went. “She would have loved it.”

Gaara’s eyes widened, clearly taken aback by your assessment. He faced you as the two of you stood side-by-side, admiring the sand stature. “Do you think so?”

You turned to give him a smile. “I know so,” You affirmed.

Of course she loved him; who wouldn’t?

And you don’t know if you did it on purpose or not, but your index finger came to brush against Gaara’s. You were thrown by the fire the slightest touch erupted in your belly. You looked down to spot your finger’s treachery. Gaara seemed neither to care nor mind.

Your heart cartwheeled when he took your hand in his hold, the skin of his palm warm and secure against your own.

You remembered how it felt to be cradled in his lap seconds before you had leaped away, his hands on your shoulders … Something purred inside you, compelling you to lean into the hand hold.

You cleared your throat and broke away without knowing why. “You don’t talk about your father much, I notice.”

A shadow came over Gaara’s face. “The relationship the Fourth Kazekage and I had was … difficult.”

“You’re speaking to the choir with that one.” You giggled. You wiggled the hand Gaara once held in hopes of eradicating the tingle there. “I won’t pry.”

“No,” he said. “It’s all right. I was his … experiment.”

Cold water ran over you. You paused.

Experiment. It was the same word Joseki had used. How odd …

A bitter laugh from you. “I think we’re all experiments of our parents.”

Gaara relaxed, seeming to be grateful for the out you’d given him.

“Lord Kazekage,” a new voice entered the greenhouse, and the two of you turned to see a servant. “Lady Temari told me to fetch you. The party is ready.”

“Ooh.” You turned to Gaara with a conspiratorial smile. “And it begins.”

Luggages were hauled into carriages while Sand and Oasis ninja gathered to accompany the four of you on your vacation. Staring at the carriages ready for departure by the gates of Sunagakure gave you a strange sense of deja vu.

“I’m not looking forward to getting back into those things,” You said to Gaara.

He didn’t answer you.

A strange puppet you hadn’t recognized from Kankuro’s collection lay hunched by the side of the carriage. Temari came through the gap between carts, wielding a metal bar you couldn’t identify. She was followed by Kankuro and Baki.

“I hope the two of you have considered what I said,” Baki said.

“Oh, believe us, we have,” Kankuro said, and he and his sisters tapered into giggles.

Baki sighed before catching sight of you. His demeanor transformed; the fatherly air had returned. “Lady (Y/n)!” He said warmly.

You returned his smile. “Hello, Baki.”

Baki turned to the carriages. “We took the luxury of packing your things for you. I hope you don’t mind. None of your things were extraneously handled, and I made sure your privacy was secured.”

“Oh, I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble,” You said. “I don’t need much!”

One of the carriage doors was left ajar; you spotted the luggage you had come with.

“None at all,” Baki said. He gave a warning look toward Temari and Kankuro, who only bowed their heads. “I hope you all enjoy yourselves.”

You sighed, the reality of another carriage ride looming ever nearer. Let’s just get this part over with.

You made to hop into the carriage —

Someone caught your hand. You looked to your side and Gaara was there.

“What’s wrong?” You let Gaara lead you away from the carriage by hand.

“Oh,” Kankuro pointed to the carriage, “that won’t be your ride.” He shut the carriage door and turned to the ninja. “Start moving! We’ll catch up!”

The ninja scurried away while the carriage jerked to life. It rode down toward the village gates.

You looked toward Gaara with a nervous laugh. “What’s going on?”

Gaara simply smiled and swept his hand —

And enveloped you in a small sandstorm as tides of sand whipped past you. The wind pulled at your hair and toward Gaara. A giant platform solidified at his feet. He nudged you gently toward him and the two of you bumped hips as the platform began to float.

Float.

Your scream crescendoed as the platform carried the two of you into a cloudless sky. The vertigo had you gripping Gaara’s shoulder as the entire village sprawled beneath you. Its spidered streets and huge, domed buildings grew smaller as Gaara directed the two of you away from the village.

“I thought this would be a fun way to travel,” Gaara said, before looking down at you clutching his arm to add, “but, if you don’t like it —“

“Are you kidding?” You screeched. “Go faster! Faster!”

Temari and Kankuro were at a lower altitude, carrying themselves over the Suna gates by their own machinations; Temari’s metal blade was actually a fan she used to glide over the gate, while Kankuro’s puppet was somehow attached to his back, propelling him through the air with giant batlike wings.

“As you wish,” Gaara murmured, and sped up.

You could do nothing but gawk. The desert spilled out past the gates like a giant ocean; rolling dunes towering like waves, seeking to outdo one another as their hills stretched out over undisturbed cerulean. You detected the ninja and carriage below, but barely, having been reduced to mere ants from the altitude.

“This is amazing …” You breathed out.

“Come.” Gaara lowered himself on the platform to sit criss-cross. “Sit.”

You clutched onto him hard as he aided you. You let your legs lay out on your side. You traded his arm for his neck — hesitated, until Gaara allowed your touch, and you wrapped arms around him.

“I would never let you fall.” Gaara bowed his head forward with an assuring stare. “You know that?”

You nodded. A calm smile graced his lips, perfect on his face. His hand rested gingerly on your waist, sending your heart into a back-flip. Wind ruffled his crimson hair, bits of sand carrying into the air. And in that moment you believed Gaara had never lied once in his life.

Your hold on him mercified. “I believe you,” you whispered.

I was right. Amazing powers. You looked back to see Temari, the wind rippling her ponytails, laughing in the air. She watched Kankuro do flips and dips in the sky, folding and reopening his puppet’s wings. Squeak. The cork of Gaara’s gourd loosened to free yet more sand, and in midair the strips of sand morphed to become butterflies.

They were all gods to you.

One butterfly landed on your cheek, kissed your face, and you giggled. “How is this possible?” You asked.

Gaara’s ease lessened. “I was … born with special gifts. Because of a spirit.”

You glanced at him — only to do a double-take. Your eyes widened.

Wait.

Were they really gods?

“The spirit is gone, but very little of my power has dwindled,” Gaara added.

You leaned into Gaara’s side, allowing this new information to sink in. You were curious, so curious, and for once your father’s intentions did nothing to pervert that curiosity; you were enthralled.

You tilted your head. “What kind of —“

But then you realized; you were close again, so close, even closer than when you were in his lap nights ago. Your arms fastened around his neck, his hand holding your waist. There was no startling need to get away this time, only a growing need to dispel the remaining inches.

Gaara stared at you from the corner of his eye, smiling. No blush, no fluster.

The sun shone in your eyes. You cupped a hand over your forehead to visor them.

“The sun looks amazing on you …”

You were not prepared for the husk in Gaara’s voice. Heat colored your cheeks. You raised your head to him. Your heartbeat quickened in your throat as your eyes got lost in the turquoise of his. That sweet, serene green —

A gust of wind blew past Gaara’s face to ruin the moment.

You gasped, spun your head. “Not funny!” You yelled.

Kankuro and Temari only laughed and flew ahead of the two of you.

It was a full three hours of flight before a town, nestled into a cliff, came into view.

It was hard, after the fanfare of the last three hours, to both literally and metaphorically come down to earth. The moment Gaara had you on the ground, and the four of you huddled at the town’s gates, you playfully socked Kankuro’s arm.

“O — ow!” Kankuro chuckled, rubbing his arm.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was gonna do that?” You play-hissed in his ear.

“It was my idea, actually,” Temari said smugly.

Your hand flew to your chest to feign shock. “Female solidarity is dead!”

“Let’s hurry to the hotel,” Gaara said. “While it’s still nice out.”

The four of you ushered into town, as incognito as possible to avoid causing a stir. You wove your way through the streets when wet hit your nose. Salt graced your tongue when your lips parted.

The sea.

Excitement added élan to your steps. You barely maintained the proper pleasantries as you entered the hotel lobby. The group revealed identities and startled the receptionist — along with the rest of the staff, one of them prompted to fetch the hotel owner.

“Lord Kazekage!” He bowed furiously, sweating just as much. “And his lovely siblings! Oh, oh, this is such a surprise! What an honor!”

“Sir,” one of the staff whispered in his ear, “I’ve seen her. She’s Lord Boutoku’s daughter, she’s marrying the Kazekage next month —”

“LORD BOUTOKU’S DAUGHTER —?!”

Kankuro slapped a hand over the owner’s mouth as people in the lobby looked away from their newspapers and fine breakfasts to mind the commotion. “Mind keeping it quiet! Someone might overhear!”

The owner fished a handkerchief from his pocket to dab himself. “Yes, of course …! My apologies, Lord Kankuro …!”

“Look,” Kankuro’s eyes flickered every which way as he leaned in conspiratorially, “we’re here on a little weekend vacation, all right? We’d appreciate it if you helped us lay low.”

“Oh, oh.” You were sure the owner would go into shock. “Of course, certainly, oh, whatever you need, we’d be more than happy to provide!”

“Thank you, sir.” Temari was all charm and smiles as she slid a mysterious gold card to the receptionist behind the desk. “If you could just set us up with rooms now.”

“Of course, of course!” the owner said. “Only the finest for the Kazekage and his family!”

And he hadn’t lied; the rooms were enormous. It occurred to you just how little Gaara had to actually do as the Kazekage; only a few minutes had passed and already he had been secured the most luxurious room due to his title. It was decided: You and Gaara would share while Temari and Kankuro would have their own separate quarters. Gaara’s, of course, was the largest. He grew concerned on your behalf and asked if you wanted a room of your own, but, as there were two beds in the suite, you didn’t mind. And anyway, Gaara was the most trustworthy man in the history of men.

“And besides.” You held back giggles as Temari and Kankuro collapsed on plushy couch cushions. “Your room has the best accommodations anyway — we’ll all just end up congregating in here anyway.”

“If you’re sure about it.” Gaara let himself smile as he examined the room. “We really must thank the owner for his hospitality. They are nice rooms.”

“A big tip!” Kankuro said, sinking into the cushions with pleased sighs. “The biggest!”

“I’m so sick of buildings,” You said, nearly bouncing up and down. “I want the beach!”

“We might as well,” Gaara said. “I would hate to make you wait any longer.”

You gulped, imagining that phrase in a different context. What’s wrong with you lately? Too much Icha Icha!

The four of you retrieved the beach appropriate clothing and items from your bags and left the hotel. It didn’t help that the hotel had such lovely views of the beach — the bluest water you had ever witnessed. So close.

It was a five-minute walk until the beach, its plush sands transitioned from orange-beige to white, came into sight.

“Whoa,” Kankuro said.

The waves curled and laid on the shore. Your eyes widened.

You ripped your shoes off and ripped past people cluttering the beach. You were through with your inhibitions. You expected to hear someone call for you to come back, only to glance over your shoulder and see Temari and Kankuro following you into the water. You let out a delighted scream as you plunged headfirst into the toiling waves.

Only then did you remember you didn’t know how to swim.

“Okay,” Kankuro motioned what was called a backstroke, “just lean your arm out like this —“

“No!” You squealed. “I’ll drown!”

“Don’t be silly!” Temari said. Temari, who had decided she was already tired of the water, opted instead for a beach chair, sunglasses, and a smoothie underneath a shading umbrella. “You’ve got three of the strongest shinobi in the world watching over you. No one would let you drown — especially Gaara.”

Gaara, against all odds, could swim himself. He shadowed you in the water, holding his arm out to you.

You pouted. “I thought neither of you had ever been to the beach.”

“Well, we know how to swim,” Kankuro said. “We’re shinobi, remember? Trained for every occasion.”

“I can continue helping her,” Gaara said as Kankuro made to help you. Something unknown passed between them, and Kankuro backed off.

“I’m, uh, headed back to shore.” Kankuro performed his so-called backstroke. “Take care, you two!”

You waved him goodbye.

“You’re doing well,” Gaara said. “Do you like the beach?”

“I love it!” You cried. “I can’t wait to catch starfish and, oh!” — You let go of Gaara — “shells —!”

“(Y/n!) —!”

Without his arm, you went under. Your cries transmuted to bubbles as you flailed. A wave brushed you aside, jolting you into panic. You flailed harder. Hands grabbed you and pulled you to the surface.

“Are you all right?” Gaara’s voice was muffled by the water in your ears.

You looked over your shoulder to see Gaara holding you. Wild crimson locks clung to his face. Shirtless.

“I—” You spit saltwater out before answering, blinked water from your eyes. “Yes.”

Your skills improved as Gaara taught you the basics, and soon you could bob your head over the water without support. Pleased with this progress, you decided on a break. You two emerged on land to admire the view.

“Finally,” Temari said. “Thought you two would be at sea forever.”

“It’s really nice, Temari.” You pat your hair dry. “Sure you don’t wanna join?”

“I realized I prefer the view.” Temari took another sip of her drink — only to suck at the bottom of her cup. “I’m gonna get another.”

“I’ll come with,” Kankuro said. “I’m starving.”

You and Gaara were left alone on the beach now. You looked back at the waves. They coiled, crested, and collapsed to bask on the white sand with rhythmic harmony, as though dancing to a tune you were too ignorant to hear. You sighed.

“It’s absolutely beautiful,” You said.

“Yes,” Gaara said. “It is …”

“But how can there be a sea next to a desert?” You said. “It just doesn’t seem possible …”

“It’s indeed possible, if the air on the desert side is dry enough.”

Amazing … You looked out into the horizon. The world was such a magical, beautiful place — and your delusional father had kept you from it.

“You know,” You let your towel slip into your lap, “back home, it’s said that our oasis was once a sea. A lot of us believe that.” You paused; did you believe that? You hadn’t thought much of it, only thought it was such a pretty myth. “Or a gift from a spirit, after our first village head, Goro, slayed a horrible beast.”

“It sounds like an amazing place,” Gaara said. “I hope, one day, you will take me to see it in person.”

Your father shadowed the conversation, dimming the light of the tales running rapid in your head.

“Kankuro has told me some things about it, though little has been written,” Gaara continued, looking straight ahead. The shade of the umbrella shrouded all but one leg as he propped an elbow on a knee. “About how it has magical properties. Is that true?”

You cast your gaze to your feet, which you burrowed into the sand. Your knees were hugged to your chest. “I don’t really know. The truth is, I’ve never seen it myself. Father forbade me, said I’m not ‘ready.’ Everyone I know, I know from him.” Like everything else. “He’s told me stories … I just know people who aren’t from our village can’t access it or drink its water. They need permission from the village head. But …”

You leaned forward to take his hand, enamored with the way your fingers intertwined with his.

“Once we’re married, you’ll be considered family,” You said. “We’ll see it together.”

Gaara ran a thumb over one of your fingers, considering you with a faint smile. “Yes, I’d like that.”

You unearthed a new dream. You gave it life and love and cradled it close to your heart. You watered it, as Gaara did his beloved plants, to keep it strong, and so it flourished in your mind’s eye: You and Gaara, visiting the oasis together, lounging underneath palm trees and sparkling water. You made to clench your hand until you remembered Gaara was holding it.

I can’t let Father destroy this dream. I can’t.

Gaara looked over your shoulder. “Oh, Temari and Kankuro are coming back …”

Temari and Kankuro sulked back to your section on the beach.

“The stands have nothing good,” Kankuro sighed. “Let’s go in the hotel to eat.”

“That’s Kankuro language for ‘let’s gamble,’” Temari snickered.

“I would never kid about food!” Kankuro argued. “I’m seriously hungry.”

“So am I.” You stood and dusted off your skirt. “Let’s go”

“Very well.” Gaara reclaimed your hand to help him off the beach, gave it a squeeze. “It will be on me.”

You secured a round table in one of the hotel’s swanky restaurants. It turned out Temari was right, because the moment your order came, Kankuro snatched his tray and made his way to the seductive poker tables to lose only the gods knew how much money.

“So predictable.” Temari rolled her eyes, crossing her legs at the table.

You played with your fries, twirling them in the ketchup — something that would’ve gotten you a firm lecture back home — while Gaara set down his glass.

“I meant to ask you both,” Gaara began. “When you went out shopping, did anything interesting happen? Did you talk about anything?”

You and Temari froze. You focused on the smiley-faces you were making with your ketchup pile while Temari scrambled for words.

Your sister told me in so many words that she would rip my throat off if I so much as laid a finger on you — which makes all this a hundred times harder …

“Uh, I — aha, well.” Temari continued to stammer, worrying a napkin in her hands. “We …”

“Just girl stuff, that was all it was!” You chirped.

“Ye—Yeah!” Temari said. She waved him off. “Nothing that would interest you, or — or any man, really!”

“Any man …” Gaara parroted. “I see.”

“No offense!” You nudged him assuredly.

He raised his head. “Does that mean you discussed the wedding?”

“Hm?” You blinked. You were caught off guard; in fact, there had been no discussion of the wedding since you’d arrived. The wedding that was meant to be a wedding.

The wedding that was only a sham to get you here.

“I think I would like a more traditional wedding, like Naruto and Hinata had,” Gaara said, surprising you with his forwardness. “You would look beautiful in traditional attire.”

“Uh.” This was not something you thought he would ever have any interest in.

“It seems like something the council would approve of, considering how stubborn they are about the old ways of doing things.” Gaara stiffened. “Only if you wanted. I thought we could discuss it over this vacation.”

“Gaara!” Temari scooted smoothie number five away, scandalized by her brother’s forwardness. Clearly, she had never met this version of her brother before, either. “What brought this on?”

“Our friends from the Leaf have been ecstatic about the news,” Gaara said. “And, as it’s only two or so weeks away now …”

“I think we should wait until we’re all gathered to talk about this, don’t you?” Temari’s amicable, sweet-older-sister voice was so incongruous with the woman you had come to know.

“I agree,” You hastened, thankful for the save. “That way we can all be in the know. I mean, Kankuro’s not even sitting here.”

“I think you may be right,” Gaara said bashfully. “Sorry about that. I guess I just got carried away for a minute there.”

“Not at all,” You said before biting into another fry. He’s so cute.

You had come to realize there was nothing quite like Gaara flattery; he was so earnest, so sincere. And he was excited about the wedding, about marrying you. The wings of your heart brushed your ribcage. But you didn’t want to have this discussion; it brought your lie(s) to the forefront of your mind. It was too raw, and you were not yet strong enough to weather it, to invite the others into your delusions. Only you could have these fantasies in the privacy of your mind where nothing could reach them.

But it was another facet to the dream you’d begun to nourish.

A new thought slotted in with the rest: Gaara mentioned Naruto, seventh Hokage — his friend.

“You’ve said before that you know Naruto Uzumaki personally.” You leaned in with curiosity. “What’s he like?”

“An absolute goofball,” Temari said.

“A true friend,” Gaara amended. “And an incredibly strong and formidable opponent.”

Temari shrugged. “Yeah, that, too.”

Gaara began sharing amazing anecdotes about his adventures with his other shinobi friends, how he and Gaara had fought after the attack on Konoha (you paid special attention to your meal, averting your eyes from anyone else), how the Leaf ninja had changed his perspective on life, how addicted he was to ramen. Your head spun with it all, especially when they used what you suspected were special shinobi words from their lexicon.

“And he was trained by Jiraiya,” You said, awed. “The same Jiraiya who wrote the Icha Icha series?”

“That’s the one,” Temari twirled her fork with sarcasm, head in her palm.

“This is all so incredible …” You said.

“Really?” Gaara said. “Is that so?”

“It’s a shame I can never meet him …” You said solemnly. “If things had turned out differently, he would be coming to the wedding as well — I could even get a signed copy!”

“The world is so cruel.” Temari feigned sadness.

Gaara wore an expression you had come to know when he was deep in thought. “I could get Naruto to arrange something, regardless.”

“Really?” You said as Temari choked on her drink.

“Gaara, no,” she said.

“No, no.” You echoed her sentiments, albeit for a different reason. “You’ve done enough for me.”

Blingblingbling. A series of metallic sounds blared as machines blazed their dispensers with coins. Gaara furrowed his brows. You could tell he was not fond of the hotel’s busy atmosphere, the endless commotion — not to mention the cigarette smoke.

“Let’s go to our rooms,” You said. “It’s getting late.”

Gaara perked. “Really? If you don’t mind …”

“Not at all.” You faced Temari. “Right, Temari?”

“I could get a break from the beach,” Temari said, waving the smoke away. “And the smoke.”

The three of you took the elevator back to the room floors and traipse the hallways, looking for your respective rooms.

“Thanks for saving me back there, by the way,” Temari said, cupping a hand over her mouth conspiratorially.

You chuckle. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I’m sorry for the way I acted in general,” Temari said. “I’ve been meaning to apologize, actually. I was hard on you. But … Gaara’s my little brother and all, I’m sure you understand.”

“Absolutely,” You said. “Something tells me my …” You fought a stutter in your throat. “… brother would have done the same for me.”

Hideo would always be the gnawing pang at your heart. You realized that as you approached the knob to admit you and Gaara into the room.

You turned the knob —

Crying. Wails.

You gasped. “Who is that?”

The three of you looked to the corner of the hallway — the source of the sound — where Kankuro was rounding, tears streaking his makeup.

“Kankuro?” You said.

“What’s happened?” Gaara said with startling authority.

“I’ve …” He sank to his knees in the hallway. “I lost so much money!”

“Oh, no!” You cupped your mouth.

“It’s those damn scheming geezers!” Kankuro cried, throwing his hand, tears wobbling down his face. “They cheated me, saw me coming from a mile away!”

“I told you not to get cocky if you were gonna gamble!” Temari said. “Now look at you!”

You and Gaara chuckled at the sight and each goodnight to them, but you were sure neither of them heard you over Kankuro’s crying and Temari’s yelling.

The next day, the blue of the sky was forced to contend with the weak wispy clouds breezing past, shielding and unveiling the sun at their leisure.

You admired them as you emerged from underneath the water. The sky enveloped your vision, and for a second you were sure you had been transported to heaven before Gaara broke you from your reverie:

“You’re advancing fast,” he praised, stationery in the water beside you.

You swerved, so you were across one another. “That’s because I have such a good teacher.”

Gaara smiled wordlessly as you initiated your novice backstroke. The irony of the Kazekage of Sunagakure teaching you how to swim was not at all lost on you. Chuuyou had worried about you being so far from his watchful eye, but you had insisted he keep more of a distance.

“My Lady,” he had said, his soft tone cut with an imploring edge, “I encourage you to reconsider.”

“I’m fine, Chuuyou.” You did your best to curb your annoyance, but it came out as a hiss, anyway. He’s just doing the job Father assigned him. “I would just like a little space. Please?”

And he had started giving it to you, no matter how unwillingly. You didn’t want Chuuyou so close; he was such a reminder of Father, of your real reason for being with Gaara and his siblings. You wanted all reminders gone. You wanted to fall into the dream.

Now, you couldn’t see Chuuyou anywhere on the beach. A pinch of anxiety previously holding your chest hostage released, relaxed into nothingness.

You splashed Gaara with water, giggling. “Race you to the shore!”

And Gaara, once again, didn’t answer; his answer came in the sound of him trading water with precision and speed. He was strong, much stronger than he looked, although you were not ignorant of the faint trace of muscle his lean form possessed.

He beat you, of course. He helped you from the water, the beach waves dispensing their white suds around your ankles.

“Oh!” You looked over the faint red burn forming on Gaara’s skin.

“Hm, I see.” He inspected his arms, which bore a few red spots. “I forgot.”

“You have to be more careful! Come here.” You took his hand, leading him back to the mismatched collection of beach towels you had secured on the beach. “I’ll put some on you.”

Kankuro and Temari were mysteriously missing. While you were sure Kankuro was engrossed in a life-or-death rematch with the old men who had swindled him the night before, you were not entirely sure what was keeping Temari.

You suspected, maybe, she was willingly leaving you alone with Gaara, who you hadn’t had a quiet moment with since only the gods know when. Unless, of course, you took the night before into consideration. For at least thirty minutes, you had pretended to sleep, pretended to not be aware of Gaara’s loving gaze on you in the dim tangerine light of the hotel room, only for him to fall asleep and you to turn the tables on him, staring at him semi-darkness with a racing heart you were hopeless to still. He had not even touched you; the only words he had exchanged after you had traded your beach clothes in for some pajamas had been a simple, hospitable goodnight, and still you couldn’t take your mind off of the intimacy of it all. Despite the two beds, despite everything.

Now, you were squeezing sunscreen into your hand, ready to massage it into his skin?

Gaara resisted. “You don’t have to,” he insisted.

You rubbed the cream together with your hands. “It’s all right, I don’t want you to get hurt — the sun is really intense.”

You ignored the way your heart skipped at the idea of massaging his bare skin.

I’m helping him, that’s all …

Gaara acquiesced. He closed his eyes when your hands fell on him. The sunscreen cooled underneath your palms as they made a trail down his arm.

“I’m usually more careful than this,” he said as you leaned in to address the arm across you. “It must have skipped my mind.”

You didn’t answer; your mouth went dry as you preoccupied yourself with how smooth and soft his skin felt under your fingers, like refined virgin marble. It was as though he had never been touched by another living soul in all his life. You felt blessed, honored.

A low rumble escaped Gaara’s throat as you leaned farther, the plush of your breast sinking into his arm and you jerked away, conscious of it.

You’re just helping …

“Does it feel … okay?” You asked.

“It does.”

Gaara leaned his head away so that you could massage into his neck, where your fingers brushed against the nape of his neck, felt the slightest indication of soft red hair beneath your fingernail. The slight of red hair under your fingers — you wanted to thread them in his forest of hair, before transferring to his chest. You could feel the ghosts of muscle you detected earlier, hard and … and steady. Gaara sat back to give you more access, but it only encouraged you to admire him more; the cliff of his jaw and, eyes trailing down even further, his lips …

Helping.

Your finger grazed one of his nipples, and Gaara flinched underneath the touch. He cracked an eye open at you, but you refused to meet it, pretending it didn’t happen by moving next to his back, lathering the span of it with sunscreen.

“There.” Your mouth was so parched the word almost didn’t form. “You should be all … set.”

You noticed the thoughtful, intense look Gaara was giving you. Your throat constricted, feeling more exposed than he was under his attention. If this was an Icha Icha novel, you knew he would lean forward, cup the back of your head and …

“Thank you,” Gaara’s voice was light.

You only nodded. You curled sinful hands in your lap, the sensation of Gaara’s skin tingling yours.

“… Excuse me?”

You were grateful for the distraction as your head turned to the source of the new little voice.

A little boy had crept toward the two of you on the beach, but he was staring at Gaara.

“… Are you th — the … Kazekage?”

Gaara turned to you for help and you sighed.

“The jig is up, I suppose,” You muttered to him.

“It’s true then?” the boy perked up in anticipation of Gaara’s answer.

Clearly emboldened, some of the boy’s other friends and playmates came to his side, waiting.

Gaara smiled and after a brief pause, “Yes. I am.”

Murmurs of amazement.

“Cool!” the boy said. “Can you show us some stuff?”

The kids crowded Gaara with their strung-out “pleases” and adorable pleading.

You leaned to whisper to Gaara, “Do it!”

He smiled before turning his attention to the beach. Sand began to stir and move, and you were glad the beach itself was much less crowded, with only the children doodling there, because sand began to rise and churn. Gaara grew sand structures on the beach. You furrowed your brows, following his vision as the sand morphed and solidified into …

Gaara had raised a giant sandcastle, complete with terraces and a drawbridge which plopped onto the beach floor to admit everyone.

The children rushed to the castle to admire it.

“Wow …” You gawked, entering into it. “It’s like a dollhouse!”

“Temari and Kankuro used to ask me to make things with sand all the time,” Gaara said as the children took your entering for clear permission and began to flood the castle.

Slides rolled down from spaces in the railings, little windows above the balustrades cut squares of sunlight for the perfect game of hopscotch. An atrium admitted invited more sunlight.

You giggled as they ran and played.

“This is amazing!” The little boy said, swinging on makeshift monkey bars. He plopped down and approached Gaara. “I wanna be just like you when I grow up, Lord Kazekage.”

Gaara looked stunned, before recovering with a gentle smile. “I hope everyone enjoys themselves …”

An hour or so passed while the two of you played with the children. Gaara constructed kaiju out of the stand and, having taken lessons from Kankuro, puppeteered them into fights as the children cheered on their favorites. Children took turns on the slides, falling into a giant whirlpool Gaara made. He encouraged you to go last, and your laughter turned to screams as you were propelled into the air and caught by Gaara’s forgiving sand.

“I want a castle just like this when we marry.” You admired the sandcastle from the outside as children tired themselves out around you. The sun had intensified, bringing with it a heat to parch your mouth dry.

You waited for Gaara’s interjection, but when he stayed quiet, you turned to him, only to see his attention was away from the beach, near a rise of obsidian rocks.

“I think there’s a cave over there,” Gaara said.

“I’ve never seen a cave before …” You said.

He turned to you. “Would you like to?”

You smiled. “What about the —?”

“I think they’re more than occupied.” Gaara gestured to the children still running and playing in and out of the sandcastle. “They won’t miss us.”

You smiled, nodded. “Let’s go.”

Rocks erected and curved like crescent moons to protect its own private island; a lagoon.

The two of you swam to explore, the way led by the sounds of seagulls and rushing waves. Gaara chaperoned you, but you swam without aid until the two of you came to the rocky shore.

You raised yourself from the waters by grabbing a rock for purchase, Gaara not far behind.

“I knew it,” You said triumphantly.

A small alcove indicated a cave not far off.

“Let’s go in!” You said, any and all fear you might have had to explore such a place dulled by the fact Gaara was with you. “I’ve got to find some souvenirs for this trip.”

“All right, then,” Gaara obliged.

The cave’s ceiling cast shadows over the water. A hole in its rocky ceiling created a natural spotlight at its center. Color winked in your periphery, hinting at aquatic flowers accosted by the rolling waters, and you wondered if you could find petals lost in the water.

“This is amazing,” You said. “It’s like earth meeting water.” You twirled in the water to see Gaara admiring you thoughtfully. You became self-conscious. Nerves constricted your speech. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Gaara muttered as he inched closer. “You are very brave; you try new things all the time.”

You stilled — only to remember your imperative to stay moving in the water. He called me brave. You weren’t so sure. You only had the nerve to explore because you were aided by the Kazekage. But still, you opened your mouth, only to close it again; never had anyone ever complimented you on anything other than your “beauty.” You struggled to receive it.

Am I brave? How would I know …?

“I would like to thank you, (Y/n),” Gaara went on, cradling your name in his deep, dulcet tone. “You’ve done nothing but smile since the moment you came to my village. It must have been difficult to come here, all things considered … So, thank you.”

You were silent. His warm words blanketed you. It had been hard. Frightening. Everything was foreign. Nothing felt like home. And there was the weight of your — you swallowed — mission. What was this ability Gaara had to make you feel so seen? Now exposed, not undressed, but … read. Appreciated. Lovingly studied. Annotated.

You became struck with the intimacy of the cave; it was only you and Gaara. You were so far from shore. The scene was beginning to soften, its edges watercoloring until it seemed more dream than reality. The water had to rival the peaceful turquoise of Gaara’s eyes as you became lost in them.

He caressed your cheek so gingerly you flinched at the hand you hadn’t seen rise.

“I would … like to try something. Is that all right?”

Your mouth refused to form words; you nodded your consent.

Gaara’s other hand came to rest against your hip, steadying you in water as he had done in air. He leaned toward you, into you. You blinked water from your lashes, frozen everywhere else. You were in a dream:

Gaara’s lips brushed against yours.

His kiss was gentle, virgin, but you felt the soft plant of his lips on your own, and your soul departed from your flesh despite its lack of violence. Your eyes fluttered close, your hands resting on his shoulders.

Centuries later, Gaara moved away. You opened your eyes to see him nestled among the stars clouding your vision.

“I’ve …” Gaara lowered his gaze. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

You struggled to recover. If you were speechless before, he had managed to eviscerate your vocabulary, your mental library set ablaze. Your heart was a hummingbird trapped in your chest. “Li — likewise …”

Gaara looked up, concerned. “Was it okay?”

You shook your head — until you realized you would have to couple it with words to assuage his concern. “No, no! It was — Gaara … it was amazing.”

Gaara smiled. “… I was worried. Thank you for letting me kiss you.”

You returned his smile. “Thank you for the souvenir.”

You were plopped back into reality, with the sea and the salt and the seagulls singing their songs overhead. An awkward silence punctured it all. You simply stared at him. And stared and stared and stared.

He grazed a hand over your wet forearm. “Would you like to do it again —?”

“Yes …” You said before he could finish, wrapping arms around him.

“Gaara! (Y/n)!”

It was Kankuro’s voice, far away, yet loud enough to dispel the dream entirely.

“Is that …?” Gaara trailed.

“Gaara!”

You broke away from him. “We should head back — there might be trouble.”

Gaara didn’t object, following you out. You could detect the significant dots of Temari and Kankuro on the shore as you two returned.

“What’s going on?” You said as you and Gaara emerged from the water.

Kankuro’s thousand-yard stare was your only reply. “I’ve done it,” he said quietly. “I’ve finally done.”

“What, Kankuro?” Gaara asked.

Kankuro thrust something in your faces. You fixed eyes on it. A medallion the color of the sun stared back.

You gasped. “But that’s —!”

“One of the old geezers won it off a pirate years back!” Kankuro said triumphantly.

“He begged me to help him beat the guys at the table,” Temari exclaimed, arms crossed. “How much is it, anyway?”

“Temari,” Kankuro deadpanned, “it’s worth thousands.”

Temari’s gasp echoed yours, as though she were doused with cold water —

“I take back everything I ever said about you, Kankuro!” Temari said, fingers knitted and stars in her eyes.

“That’s a once in a lifetime, I bet!” You said. “I’ve only seen one of those things once in my entire life.”

“Who would bet something this valuable in a game of cards?” Temari said. “Men are so reckless —“

“Congratulations, Kankuro!” Gaara said. “We knew you could do it.”

“Me, too,” Kankuro spun the coin with his thumb and caught it, satisfied with himself.

“Me, too,” Temari patted him on the back. “Now you can help pay off the Sand’s debt!”

It was a second before Kankuro realized what Temari was saying — and then the crying and begging began.

“So, you two been up to much?” Temari said. She eyed the giant sandcastle of Gaara’s making and the kids who had turned it into their personal playground, all while ignoring Kankuro’s crying in the background. She raised her brows. “Ah, I see. Anything else?”

Neither you nor Gaara answered. A few seconds ticked by before Temari blanched.

“Nothing much,” Gaara said finally.

You kept eyes on your toes, hoping the red on your face could be excused for the beach heat.

Gaara watched you return to his hotel room, saltwater washed from your hair, sighing. Kankuro sat on one of the couches, grumbling and cradling his precious coin to his chest, while Temari lounged on another, drink in hand.

“Those kids must’ve had a field day,” Temari said. “It was sweet of you to do that, Gaara.”

“It was (Y/n)’s idea, actually,” Gaara corrected. Warmth spread over him as he remembered the parents coming to collect their children, their little hands raised in farewell as they called it a day. He had decided to leave the sandcastle where it was, however, so they might play another day.

“It was your expertise,” You said, patting your damp hair with the towel. “Just hopin’ those families will keep us being here a secret.”

Gaara watched you inquisitively.

“It’s the least they can do,” Kankuro said sullenly, kicking his feet on an ottoman, fuzzy slippers dangling from its edge. “We built them a freakin’ fast food playground for free.” His face softened. “They did look real cute out there, though. And playtime is important.”

“I’m sure they will!” You settled into a chair. “It must’ve taken a great deal of chakra control, as well!”

Temari paused. “You know about chakra?”

“Of course I do,” You said, waving her off.

“No, you don’t.”

The room paused. Heads turned to Gaara.

You tilted your head at him. “What do you mean?”

Gaara didn’t answer. He raised from his chair. He fished a shuriken from his pocket and threw it —

It pierced the flesh of your throat.

“Gaara —!” Temari and Kankuro yelled in unison.

You clutched your throat and Gaara waited for blood. There was no blood.

You poofed away.

“A clone!” Kankuro shot from his chair.

“We need to find her,” Gaara said. “Now.”

The violent colors of the sunset bled into the horizon; burnt oranges and crimsons drowned the sky. You hugged knees to your chest as the suds of waves kissed your feet.

Your fingers were touched to the skin of your lips.

He had kissed you. Gaara, the Kazekage, had kissed you, and he had wanted to do it again.

He wanted you. It was clear. You wanted him.

And yet you lied to him.

It was not like you had imagined. Nothing about this trip to Sunagakure was, but this … was especially off-kilter. You had imagined a filthy, detached nightly tryst. Your yukata torn from your body by feverish hands as the Kazekage ravaged you — not asking, only taking. And, after defiling you and drifting to sleep, you would unwind your treacherous necklace from your neck and drip poison into his snoring mouth …

It was what your father had intended and what you had expected.

Instead … The ghost of Gaara’s hand tingled your hip, and his gentle kiss had imprinted itself on your lipskin. So sweet, so …

You searched the horizon. Hideo, what do I do? What would you have me do?

Did it matter if you chose to remove yourself from your father’s plan? Gaara is exactly who you would’ve wanted for me, Hideo. You were still lying. Even if your father came and killed you for being a traitor, you would still be lying … No. It was more than that. That was skin deep. The shame went deeper to puncture veins and bone. You were the lie. A pretty wife for the Kazekage, come to make peace. Come to destroy it.

You stood, nausea wobbling your step, and wretched your necklace from your neck.

Your necklace was a lie, too.

A weapon.

Did it matter if, in your madness, you had decided to hang on to it to protect Gaara, or yourself, if the time came? You stumbled, eyes returning to the horizon.

You would throw it into the sea and let the water devour it.

The pendant of it sat in your palm, cool against your skin. Your hand made a fist around it, ready to —

A force at your side. You collapsed to the ground. The necklace flew from your hands. Your side exploded with pain. Something wove to restrict your hands behind your back.

You cried out, groaning with pain and barely able to register it before harsh hands yanked on your constricted wrists. They hoisted you to your feet by something — someone.

You screamed — only for a hand to clasp to your mouth.

“You’re quite the prize. I’ll admit that at least,” said a voice in your ear, low and masculine. “And in more ways than one. I can only imagine what Lord Boutoku will trade for you.”

You struggled as you were dragged backwards, the beach shore growing smaller.

No. Nonononono.

Someone had found out, someone had found you —

A blast from behind you and the hands holding you were gone. You stumbled to remain standing. You turned around to see your captor crash on the beach floor.

“Get away from her!”

You turned. Temari — fan unfolded at her side — and Kankuro were running toward you. Gaara mysteriously absent, but your eyes searched for him, nevertheless.

Temari took you in her arms before maneuvering you behind her. Your captor was on his feet now, knife-weapon in hand.

“Heh,” the guy smirked. “I can take you two.”

Kankuro’s matching smirk was deadlier. “What about three?”

Sand pooled, tentacled, and shot forward to grab your captor. It hoisted the man in the air as he screamed. It bound his arms and legs.

Your eyes widened as sand cocooned him. “What in the world —?”

Sssssssss…

You frowned, concentrating on the sound. A snake? No … Sand rustled. You turned to see something rising on the beach. It emerged slowly, taking on the image of a man — it was a man.

Gaara.

Gaara’s image solidified to become flesh and bone, hair and skin and clothing.

“Gaara …” You were relieved — until you felt the rage radiating from him.

Even from where the man lay trapped, towering in the air, you could see the color leave his face.

“The — the Kazekage …!”

“You knew Lord Boutoku’s daughter was here, but not the Kazekage?” Kankuro mocked. He clicked his tongue. “You’re even dumber than you look.”

“Explain yourself,” Gaara ordered.

“H — Hey.” The man trembled in the sand’s death grip. “I didn’t know — I’m sorry, okay? I — I take it back. I never would’ve hurt the girl, all right? I only wanted —“

“Your prize?” Gaara’s voice was low, his stare hardening. “And what if she hadn’t given you the information you wanted?”

A deceptive curl of sand wrapped around the man’s throat like a python. You turned back to Temari and Kankuro, who were watching with detached amusement.

“I — I only wanted money, okay! That’s all!”

Temari feigned a coo. “Aww. You’ll be getting a bit more than that now, I’m afraid.”

“You’re a disgrace …” Murder lived in Gaara’s eyes.

Sand constricted, crushed, concealing your captor’s tremors as he screamed in terror. The amusement was gone from Temari and Kankuro, replaced with a growing concern.

“Gaara!” Kankuro said, inching closer. “C’mon. Don’t. It’s not worth it.”

“Gaara!” Temari hissed. “I thought you were only going to scare him, don’t tell me you —?”

“Gaara.” Your voice was small among the screaming and the perennial rustling of sand and your rapid heart in your ears. “Please, don’t. Please … it’s all right.”

Gaara’s hand flinched beside him, as though desperately resisting the urge to clench it. His glare did not leave the man he threatened to kill.

“Please …” You pleaded softly.

Gaara tore himself away from the scene, stalking away.

The sand lost its shape and crashed like water downward. The man plummeted to the ground. You yelped as a sickening crack sounded through the beach, and then silence. It was only until you saw the man rise from his place, one leg making up for the mangled other, were you able to breathe again. He was alive.

But barely.

Sand and Oasis ninja flooded the hotel. You felt bad for the other clientele, who were looking around for answers and found few.

Your captor had, apparently, heard about your staying at the hotel and, once getting a glimpse of you at the beach, had created a clone of you to fool everyone. Afterward, it was only a means of finding you alone to make a move. He had been carded away and, despite the horrible crack you’d heard, had only managed to break literally an arm and a leg. Nothing more. Until more information was known, the guests were either encouraged to leave or sequester themselves in their rooms.

The rogue had managed, in the fray of the vacation, to fool even Chuuyou. Who, you had a feeling, would be glued to you even more than before from now on.

You were fine. Slightly shaken, and your side still screamed with pain if you grew too bold, but otherwise fine, your necklace having been returned to you by Temari to weigh you down like an anvil. You were more concerned for Gaara, who had not spoken a word to anyone since walking off the beach. He lingered in the corner of the lobby. He said nothing to no one.

“I am so, so very sorry for this.” The hotel owner bowed profusely in the lobby, over and over, as the situation resolved. “The family of the Kazekage, please … Whatever we can do to rectify this horrific event — please accept my apologies, oh gods, oh oh oh —“

“It’s all right,” Kankuro said soberly, attention clearly elsewhere. You had never seen him so serious. He shook his head at Temari. “You were right. Damn, I’ve been reckless …”

“No, Kankuro.” Temari petted him on the shoulder. “It’s all right; it wasn’t just your responsibility —”

“No,” Kankuro swatted her away, “it’s not all right. I am the Kazekage’s guard. Imagine what could’ve happened?”

Temari was quiet, face soured by the multitude of ugly possibilities. A strange knowing pulsed the air, passing between the two of them and excluding you.

You recalled their faces. At first, Temari and Kankuro had been derisive, hardly bothered at all by Gaara’s rage. As though they had witnessed it a million times. It had startled you. Only later, when it seemed Gaara would kill him, did they move to stop him …

But something gnawed at you, like a mosquito stabbing for blood, refusing to be ignored. The way Gaara’s sand had curled up around your captor. The cocoon. How ready it was to envelope him, seal him away.

A sand burial.

… Wasn’t that what Father had called it in his letter? …

… Where had he gotten that terminology?

Something gross and lingering layered over you like the remnants of a bad dream, like snake-skin. It crawled up your skin. For a split second, you imagined Hideo in the man’s place, and the need to retch sent you grappling at the back of a chair.

Hadn’t Joseki tried to warn you, tried to stop you?

What if he had good reason?

Seas could not contain the blood that boy has shed.

No. It didn’t make sense — nothing made sense.

You had so many questions and no way to get them. Gaara had moved to protect you. A warm sense of comfort sat beside the gross feeling.

Gaara, kind, loving, his villagers loved him, his siblings loved him, he was kind to you, had kissed you —

And yet, you couldn’t reconcile the murder you had seen in Gaara’s face, holding the man he was ready to kill (for you!!) in the air …

Dizzy, you steered yourself in a chair.

It got Gaara’s attention. “Are you all right, (Y/n)?”

You startled at the sound of his voice. “Ye — Yes, I’m fine …”

Gaara studied you. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No,” You lied, side sore and aching for Epsom salts.

“Are you sure?”

His voice was gentle. You looked up at him, noted the concern in his face, those lips you had kissed only hours ago. Looking into his eyes ignited a storm inside you. It shouldn’t have been possible to feel so much just by the mere sight of someone.

Did you kill Hideo, Gaara?

“Yes.”

“We’re not staying,” Kankuro told the hotel owner. “We’re too vulnerable here. Too confined.”

“I understand,” the owner said. “If there’s anything I can do … Anything at all …”

The desert was quiet. The four of you were on your way back to Suna. The emergency tents from the carriages had been risen and now sat like tiny pyramids in the starry night.

You snuck away from yours, coming out from its flap into the chilly desert air, such a stark contrast to the heat during the day. Gaara’s tent sat adjacent to yours, a soft orange candlelight emanating from its slit. It was long into the night before Gaara’s shadow could no longer be seen flickering on the tent’s cloth walls. Somehow, he had found sleep.

You didn’t know what you were doing or why. Despite Gaara being the last person you should want to see, all you wanted was to be near him, as though the truth you couldn’t piece together would show on his face.

Barefoot, you carried yourself toward Gaara’s tent. The breeze swept the hem of your robe. A flicker in your periphery startled you.

Chuuyou stood by your tent. He met your eye.

You froze.

He nodded to you and stared out into the desert, as though he had seen nothing.

A shared secret. Understanding.

He’s thinks I’m going to kill Gaara. A chill trickled your spine.

Something about Chuuyou’s reaction made the plan so … real. Others were waiting on you. They would act. What would happen after it was done? Would the Oasis ninja ambush the other tents, attempt to kill Temari and Kankuro? Would there be a full scale battle right in the middle of nowhere as your ninja stole you away and took you back to the village? The chill within rivaled the chill without.

You shook it off, attempted to chip away at the reality of it. We’re in the middle of the desert. It would be foolish to do it now — even if I was going to. Doesn’t he see that? You crept into Gaara’s tent.

He slept on his slip of a bed on the floor, face peaceful in the candlelight. Quiet, save for the slight crunch of your bare feet on the sandy ground.

How could he sleep after everything that had happened? A better question: what were you doing here? Did you want to talk to Gaara, hoping there would be some way you could bring up Hideo’s death without seeming suspicious, accusatory? But you had no plan, and he was asleep. And now here you were, standing over him in the night.

You remembered how Gaara had told you about his heavy sleeping. In another world, this would be the moment. You would simply slip the poison from the necklace into his mouth and be done with it. No more confusion. It would be done, your tight-roping act over and done with.

You wouldn’t have to wonder anymore. A decision would have been made. You would just have to live with yourself. But could you live with yourself?

The mental torture, and the desire to free yourself from it, sent your hand to your necklace. You trailed fingers to the back of it, to detach it.

You stood witness to his sleeping form. He slept the way he had when he was surrounded by his plants. How sweet his hobby was, how he had endeared himself to you. The statue of Karura. How gorgeous he was then, how gorgeous he was now …

In your madness, Hideo’s voice morphed with your father’s: Do it. Avenge me. Avenge me.

You studied his face but found no answers there.

You leaned over him, as though the answers you sought after were an inch or so away —

“(Y/n)?”

You startled. Temari’s head had poked through the slit of the tent.

“What are you doing in here?”

You froze. In that moment, you knew exactly what it looked like: you, deviously bent over her baby brother, about to do only the gods knew what. Your mind spun for an excuse.

In that moment, you saw a slim change in Temari’s expression — Concern? Anger? Suspicion?

Before it could change, Gaara roused. A groan rumbled in his throat. “What’s happened?” he asked groggily.

He propped up. Your eyes flickered from him to Temari.

“I — I couldn’t sleep,” You said, not technically a lie. “I wanted to sleep with Gaara tonight.”

Gaara sat up in bed.

“What?” Temari was blushing.

“I’m … still so rattled by what happened …” You went on, using your actual nerves to amplify the effects of your lie-not-lie. I’m such a mess. “I’d feel safer if I …”

“That’s fine,” Gaara said.

“Gaara,” Temari said, scandalized. “Are — are you sure?”

“It makes sense that (Y/n) would be uncomfortable alone after what happened.” Gaara moved aside to make room for you on the futon. “We’ll be husband and wife soon enough as it is. It’s only natural we begin sleeping together.”

Gaara seemed to avoid your eye, the weight of the day’s events an uncomfortable one. As if on cue, you slipped into the futon to be beside him, making a mental side note of the warmth flooding you immediately after.

“Well —” Temari stammered. “A — All right. As long as …” She paused; considering what came after as was too horrifying to think about. “Good night!”

You blushed; of course her mind would go to when she had found the two of you on the beach, the unspoken words to explain what you had been up to. She zipped the tent back up, leaving the two of you alone.

You laid down, exhaled a long breath. Gaara’s presence beside you was immense.

“I am … sorry,” he said. “For today. This is not how I wanted things to go.”

“It’s all right. I’m not as fragile as you think.” You balled a fist under the pillow. “I’m sure shinobi see far worse.”

“It’s no use comparing yourself to us; we are trained to face violence and be somewhat desensitized to it,” Gaara said. “I don’t expect you to be. Do you want to talk about it?”

This was the Gaara you had come to know, but what about the one from earlier? There were two Gaaras in your mind.

“No,” You assured softly. “I’m fine.”

“I understand …” You detected a bit of disappointment in Gaara’s voice. “Sleep now, then. We’ll be back in the village by the afternoon.”

You obeyed without meaning to. Exhaustion won out against your anxieties. The moment your eyes closed, you were asleep.

In the morning, you would wake up with your hand in Gaara’s, having reached for it in the night.

#gaara x reader #gaara x you #gaara x y/n #gaara smut #naruto x reader #naruto x y/n #naruto x you #naruto smut #my work

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wangxianficfinder · 1 year ago

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Fic Finder

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1. Hello! I’m hoping to find a specific fic, which is narrated from the POV of a mail delivery person from a small sect. They observed how Lan Wangji came to mail a letter every year to Wei Ying after his death, and came to see the melancholy and longing that Wangji had. They were not able to deliver the letters but they kept it. Eventually they didn’t see Wangji come to mail his letter on a particular year, but out of duty, the mail delivery person went to Cloud Recess to deliver the letters he kept. And there, he met Wangji and Wei Ying.

It’s a beautifully written fic that I read years ago, but for the life of me I can’t remember the name. I did a lot of searching on my bookmarks but can’t find it. I would really appreciate it if someone can point me to the right direction!

Thanks so much. @tacitanovember

FOUND! you’ve got to find a way, say what you want to say by Quixiote (T, 12k, wangxian, outsider pov, 13 years of WWX’s death, letters)

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2. hello, i am very sorry to send this ask but i've been trying to find this fic. (Please don't feel bad! This is what our blog is here for! ^^ - Mod C) i don't remember anything about it other than this scene in which LWJ is holding LSZ while they're on a boat because he's getting seasick and he takes care of him while he sleeps. if i remember correctly it was Sizhui-centric. thank you so much in advance!

FOUND? Gathered Herbs & Sweet Grasses by hansbekhart (Not Rated, 19k, WangXian, dad wangji, LWJ's Questionable Parenting Skills, Grief/Mourning, Recovery, Injury Recovery, Hopeful Ending, Canon-Typical Violence)

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3. hiii, I'm looking for a fic in which Jiang cheng suddenly starts hearing other people's thoughts and ends up hearing lwj thinking about wwx (inappropriately) @mercurygirlwt28

FOUND! Losing My Mind by pupeez4eva (T, 6k, wangxian, JC & WWX, Humor, Protective JC, JC drinks a potion that lets him hear people's lustful thoughts, Teenage LWJ has a lot of feelings, Canon Divergence, Cloud Recesses study arc)

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4. heyy there! i was wondering if you could help me find a fic from a while ago. basically wwx nearly dies when he fell from nightless city, but was however saved by baoshan sanren. in the the end to save wwx, she had to give her golden core to him so she was no longer immortal (i think). thanks in advance! @aquiver-heart

FOUND? Ghosts Shouldn’t by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 15k, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending)

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5. sorry to bother you but I've been trying to find a fic for some time and I can't. is a multi-part series. in the first part wei ying is left to take care of some young disciples and lan qiren forgets to send someone to replace him. the next parts are about how they don't have enough teachers and how wei ying would fit the role. sorry for my writing. i used google translate to write. @mazilu06122001

FOUND? ❤️ Joy In the Midst of These Things Series by Glitterbombshell (T/G, 53k, WangXian, Angst with Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Teacher WWX, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff)

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6. Hey there, I’m looking for a onshot fic where WWX repeatedly say “I love you” to LWJ who never says it back until after WWX is resurrected and then he is the one repeatedly say “I love you” to wwx. I’m pretty sure I found it on your blog but I haven’t found it since. @gwencaer

FOUND! When the Words Stop Coming by mrcformoso (T, 7k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Canonical Character Death, Love Confessions, Rejection, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Trauma, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending)

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7. Good day! There's this fic that I've read before and I forgot what tag/s I used to bookmark it. I only remember bits of details. So, the scene that I remember is during the sects were trapped in the burial mounds—that chapter when the juniors were kidnapped—yiling patriarch wwx was sleeping (or dead?) at the blood pool(?). Then the present wwx came to dead/yp!wwx to wake him up (something like that) so they can save the others from the puppets. It is before they go to Lotus Pier. I think there's also a scene where they tried to save him (yp!wwx) that they cant leave him alone at the burial mounds or smth. Im sorry, that all I can recall but I really want to find it again. Thank you!

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8. I’m looking for the fic where little WWX is in Cloud Recesses and little LWJ is like “gonna marry him” and when he’s told “no” he finds different ways to tie his ribbon to little WWX until the adults give in?

are you sure it's Cloud Recesses? bc if you are not sure, this sounds like the Sami fic where Jiang Yanli travels back in time, but that part of the fic takes place at Lotus Pier

FOUND! Sail Away Sweet Sister by sami (M, 73k, WangXian, YZY/CSSR/MDM Lan, MingLi, Time Travel, EXTREME Canon Divergence, Wide Focus Narrative, Some People Live/Not Everyone Dies, Most Named/Canon Characters Live, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Families of Choice, Parenthood, this work contains a major tonal shift, Fluff, Angst, Underage Sex, not particularly explicit, but not at all ambiguous, PTSD, Only a tiny bit, Unforeseeable consequences, The butterfly effect, Slightly Dark JYL, Asexual Characters, but that's not really the focus, Canon-Typical Violence)

not FOUND 💖 Let the Heavens be the judge by A_Mirror_of_memories (T, 4k, WangXian, Time Travel, Fix-It, Not JC friendly, YZY Bashing, minor character death offscreen, JC is the worst, Angst with a Happy Ending, offscreen child character death, Fluff and Angst, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, CSSR and WCZ Live, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies)

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9. ficfinder request! modern college au where Wei ying is a student that arrived late to a class that lab qiren should be teaching but instead lan zhan is, and Wei ying is sassy/rude to Lan zhan. I think it's rated E but I can't remember anything else. TIA! @the-marathon-continues-nip

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10. Hello, I am looking for a fic that focused on lsz feeling worried that wwx will feel disappointed that he grew up lan. The fic references what he told lsz the first time lwg left the wen settlement. This fic has been stuck in my head but I can't find it, I would rlly appreciate some help! 😭 @fox1023

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11. A) There's this fic where WWX moves into a house and ghost LWJ lives in the attic or something like that, it's an Eldritch horror kind of fic I think? Iirc Lwj doesn't have a face and he drips water but I could be mixing up different things.

B) I'm also looking for a fic that's kinda the opposite? Where it's WWX who lives in the house and LWJ pretends he doesn't see him

11A)

FOUND! ghost stories for lost souls by queenklu (M, 17k, WangXian, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Body Horror, (of the ghostly variety - hey number of limbs are hard), child death (not explicitly described), Ghost Hunting, Spirit Box, Juice Box, Reincarnation)

11B)

FOUND! one good thing by Yuu_chi (T, 26k, WangXian, Modern AU, Ghost WWX, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, I swear there really is a happy ending, And an alarming amount of rabbits, [Podfic] One Good Thing by jellyfishfire)

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12. Hello, I saw someone from Twitter asking about a fic where Jiang Cheng wished Wei Wuxian never existed after their battle in Nightless City (I'm guessing this is when WWX battled with the other cultivation sects and JYL died). They recalled it has some elements of poppy flowers dying and WWX's soul being connected with it will totally dissipate too.

Can you help? @tiredlaoshi

FOUND? Remember by Amona (T, 59k, JC & WWX, wangxian, Canon Divergence, self-sacrifice, erasing oneself from history, colored souls, sword spirits, major angst w happy ending, implied/referenced rape/non-con, minor character death, WIP)

FOUND? The Way It Wasn’t by KouriArashi (T, 72k, WangXian, XiYao, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, (eventually haha), Slow Build, Family Feels, Moral Ambiguity, Eventual Happy Ending)

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13. Hey so the fic lm looking for is a Jiang Cheng centric fic but it does have Wangxian in it but it's a time travel fic with JC fixing thing he gets NHS to help him travel back it's OK if you can't find it tho

FOUND? Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It)

FOUND? heaven is for me too high by stiltonbasket (M, 11k, JC & WWX & JYL, wangxian, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, LXC/NMJ, LWJ & JC, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, aka the one where JC goes back to the past, and absolutely does not want to be there, Politics, Angst, POV JC, the jc and lwj alliance nobody expected, Bad Matchmaking, Team as Family, Happy Ending, WIP)

FOUND? Moments of Revelation by meyari (T, 134k, JC/NHS, wangxian, LXC/JGY, major character death, POV JC, Canon Divergence, Temporary Character Death, Character Death, Time Travel Fix-It, Self-Sacrifice, Torture, Chronic Pain, Chronic anxiety, magical healing and how it fails, Grief/Mourning, PTSD, Chronic Mental Health Issues, learning to communicate for stubborn people, premeditated murder as a method of problem solving, Assassination, renamed meng yao, Because of Reasons, Warning: JGS, Warning: WRH, Families of Choice, no elders are perfect not one of them, Unreliable Narrator(s), Demonic Possession)

FOUND? For Both Of Us (And Time Is But A Paper Moon) by sami (E, 65k, wangxian, JC & WWX; JC & LWJ, LWJ & LXC, Canonical Character Death, Mentions of Rape, not explicit but definitely referenced, Time Travel, Not Everyone Dies au, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, WWX/babie tendencies, WQ is a queen in any reality, Healing, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Canon Divergence, Asexual JC, First Time, Getting Together, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, WWX finds new ways to be oblivious, seriously it surprised even us)

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14. Hi!!! I am looking for a fic where wei wuxian travels back in time but tries to kill himself to avoid all the tragedy that happened to his loved ones. Please help me find this one!!!

FOUND? (Un)Hidden truth by Sarah_R (M, 198k, wangxian, major character death, graphic depictions of violence, characters watching their show, characters watching the future, watching the future, Time Travel Fix-It, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Attempt, On the first chapter, Suicidal Thoughts, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Nightmares, Self-Harm, dark, fluff, Angst, LWJ best husband, WWX needs all the love and hugs in the world, and he gets it, WWX Protection Squad, The juniors are literally the light of the show, WQ best sister, YZY and JFM will realize what an absolute shit they’ve been, Character Development, Sentient Burial Mounds, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Except the people who deserve to, WIP)

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15. Fic I'm looking for: a royalty au, LWJ POV, LWJ is the prince, it's a one shot, WWX and LWJ are friends or at least have a close relationship throughout. I don't remember what status WWX is but I know for sure he's not a servant cuz there is pass in the fic where LWJ says WWX helps the palace staff even though he doesn't have to. WWX basically acts as a waiter for a little bit during this royal ball and that's where the confession happens in front of everyone. Not Desiderium. Thank you so much

FOUND? How to propose to the love of your life in one simple step by CloudyInk (G, 6k, WangXian, Royalty, LXC is King, Prince LWJ, General WWX)

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16. Hello, this is the first time I do not know if this info will be enough. I read a modern au short fic before in which wwx have a terrible eye sight and memory. Every time he goes to Lan house he will go somewhere different from what he is looking for. Like he is supposed to go to a restroom but ended up in a kitchen. Lan Qiren then said to LWJ that his boyfriend might be a thief because he is always found somewhere he did not say he will go. Then when lqr visited lwj and wwx's house, he found out that wwx got lost even to his own house. Like he cannot even find the mug and lwj has to say where it is. Lwj then said to lqr that it is because wwx got into an accident when he was a child, the same day he lost his parents. That is the reason for his terrible memory and eye sight. After that, lqr became soft to wwx. And every time Wangxian visited the Lan house. He will help wwx find what he is looking for.

Thank youuu @yunshenlianhua

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17. Hii mods , can you help me find this fics

A) it's time travel but here WWX gave up on cultivation world while whole cultivation world needs his help to defeat wen ruohan....?? I guess everyone is back from past ?? Now sure

B) I don't know where I read this fic ...and don't knew if fic like this exists where after Wuxian's death he is in ghost city but in child form with having same mind as child he later get adopted by hualian they raise him once again he remember nothing till the day in his (new )16 year old body he sees the newly ascended God lwj

C) I don't remember much but I guess it mpreg and has twin lsz n Jingyi but they have lwj because he is busy ? Or just not there with them..I am confused

Sry to ask this many at once but help me ..this half reads are living rent free in my mind @selflovingmedj

17A)

FOUND? The Line Between Good and Evil by Dandelion_sama (G, 34k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, What-If, Rebirth, Time Travel, kind of Mass Reborn, reverse uno, Canon-Typical Violence, WIP)

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18. Hey! Do you remember a fic where a-yuan gets sick and WWX brings him to the cloud recesses for treatment? There was a heart wrenching scene where wwx asked the lan sect to take a-yuan in and raise him. I can't seem to find it. Thanks in advance!

FOUND! the kite string and the anchor rope by fleurdeliser (M, 38k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, set after the yiling date, Sick Child, the illness never gets worse than it is in the first 1000 words)

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19. hi! I'm looking for a case/curse fic, post-canon/getting together - which features wangxian & the gusu lan/juniors solving a case in a cursed town. iirc, the curse is related to a wish granting ritual at a yearly festival, and i believe lwj had visited this festival before in the previous year and wished for wwx's return. thank you! @patchworkpotatoes

FOUND! 爱不释手; never let me go by yiqie (E, 68k, WangXian, Case Fic, Blood and Injury, Demons, Body Horror)

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20. Hi! I'm here for fic finder request. I'm sure I bookmark the story but couldn't find it. It was set in the Cloud Recesses study arc where Wei Ying grow up with the Lan. Wangxian is engaged with each other. I remember that Jin Zixuan was jealous when Jiang Yanli and Wei Ying start to get close while they were in cloud recesses. Nie Huaisang told Jin Zixuan and Jiang Cheng that WX are engaged and they were shocked because they thought wangxian are cousins. Sorry if my explanation is a mess and I hope you can help me find it. Thank you! @mayuchi96

FOUND! what a strange life by dass22 (dass15) (T, 26k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Friendship, POV Alternating, mostly from JC pov tho)

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#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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sunfyresrider · 2 years ago

Text

Titanic AU

Synopsis: The year is 1912 and the Titanic is setting sail on its maiden voyage. You were too incredibly broke to buy a ticket but luckily won yourself a ticket in a poker match. Aegon has unluckily lost his trust fund and is being forced to marry a wealthy girl and move to America. Both of you got on the ship for different reasons, both of you came from vastly different backgrounds, neither of you planned on finding love but fate had something else instore for you both.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Reader Warnings: It's literally a Titanic au sooo fluff, smut, sinking ship, love affair (cheating), rich v poor and a whole lotta falling in love. Word Count: 12k Note: HI BABY THIS IS FOR YOU @daddyissuesinwesteros this is my twist on your cruise ship request, I really hope you like it<33 Since i deleted my acc and have to restart I'm going to use a bunch of tags I'm srry. Tags: @its-actually-minicika @aemondwrites @annikin-im-panicin @princesssszzzz @ohitsthemaster

The year was 1912 and a newly finished ship was set to sail from Southampton, England to New York City, United States. RMS Titanic was the largest ship at the time and was considered to be unsinkable. People from all over the world rushed to get a ticket for the maiden voyage. The boat carried some of the wealthiest people in the world, as well as hundreds of emigrants from Ireland, Scandinavia, and elsewhere throughout Europe, who were seeking a new life in the United States.

The first-class accommodation was designed to be the pinnacle of comfort and luxury, with a gymnasium, swimming pool, libraries, high-class restaurants, and opulent cabins. The lower-class accommodations were nowhere near the same, however, were far better than the majority of ships. They were spacious and had several large public rooms and elevators for passengers to enjoy.

It was by all means the most important and eagerly awaited voyage for many years, but nothing is ever as good as it seems.

You had heard of the Titanic sailing to America just last week. It was completely out of your budget as a nurse in training and there was little to no hope you could board. Except, you weren’t ever planning on getting on the ship by paying. You dressed as a newspaper boy and headed down to the tavern outside the shipyard.

One talent that always kept you fed was your ability at gambling and right now they were playing poker for tickets. It was four people in total playing the silly little game that would change your life in ways unknown to you. Two gentlemen spoke nearly no English and your closet companion had been nervously shifting the entire game. “You bet everything you have?” He whispered nervously as he eyed his own cards. You leaned over, “when you got nothing, you got nothing to lose.”

Unlike the fellows around the table, you didn’t mind playing dirty. They had no clue what they had gotten themselves into. You switched around some of your cards while they weren’t looking. “Moment of truth… someone’s life is about to change.” One by one everyone sat down with their cards. Olaf had by far the worst pullout of them all. You turned to your friend, “I’m sorry you’re not gonna see your mother for a very long time.” He stood up and began cursing your ear off, “because we’re gonna go to America! Full house boys!”

Your friend stood up and started screaming his head off. Olaf the Russian bastard yanked you by the collar and eyed you up and down, “woman?” The realization sent fear down your spine, you winked and dipped out of his grasp.

“The Titanic leaves in five minutes, boys.” The bartender shouted over at you. “Oh shit!” You grabbed your friend by the collar and went sprinting in the direction of the ship. You shoved your way through the crowds, through the entrance, through the lower deck, and finally to the top of the ship. There were hundreds of people screaming goodbyes at you and you couldn’t help but wave back… even if you were excited to go home.

The crowd to get inside the ship was suffocating by all means. Luckily Aegon’s mother had forced them to all leave extra early. The ship was meant to travel the entire to America and many were beside themselves in excitement. He didn’t care much for the ship or the trip, there were other things on his mind.

Since his father’s company had become so successful his family was able to sit on the upper deck in their own personal rooms. Though his own mother had to pay for his ticket… Aegon wouldn’t think about that situation right now.

His tuxedo was suffocating him, and it was becoming clear his fiancée was exasperated. Of course, who wouldn’t be angry at an arranged marriage where love isn’t involved? The marriage aside, they were being forced into this ship in close quarters assuming they would “bond”. It was about to be an all-around miserable affair for everyone involved.

His mother, Alicent, quickly shuffled them into their surprisingly posh rooms… perhaps it would not be so miserable. As Aegon was unpacking his bags he pulled out a few paintings he had picked up during his time alive. His fiancée peaked over his shoulder and scoffed, “are those by… something Picasso?” She paused for a moment, “you shouldn’t waste your time with them, he’ll amount to nothing.” Aegon was reminded that this journey was about to be absolutely dreadful.

You and your friend finished tossing your things in the below-deck rooms meant for the poor. Two large bunk beds took up most of the space and you learned rather fast you would be sharing with some mildly unsavory characters. No matter, you planned to spend the majority of your time running around the massive ship anyway.

The front of the ship was massive and was built at an angle. You ran around basking in your luck at being able to steal- you mean win tickets. Your feet carried you to the front of the pointed ship and you climbed up the rails, “I’m the king of the world!” You shouted in a gleeful voice. Your friend ran up behind you, “you’re a woman, idiot!” You paused for a moment… “I’m the queen of the world!”

Aegon took his few moments to explore the ship. He wandered around aimlessly observing the people and the view of the sea. It was a rather dull view, nothing but open water for miles on end. At this time his head was also swirling with thoughts that drained his energy.

He was being forced into an unwanted marriage, his father had removed him from the trust fund, he was being sent to America to work and his family all hated him in one way or another. The biggest disappointment in the Targaryen lineage thus far.

In the giant crowds on the deck, he felt completely alone. Everyone around him seemed happy, they filled his ears with laughter and cheers and yet Aegon felt nothing of the sort. This ship was leading him to an unknown future laced with more sorrow. Does he even have reason to live now?

You were sitting on a bench doodling on your sketch pad when you first saw him. He had beautiful blonde hair and a chiseled jawline, he looked to be one of the posh people on board. However, his big blue eyes were laced with only sorrow. He did not smile nor join in the happiness around him. It gave you an idea for a new painting, a lonely soul amid a crowd.

“Don’t even think about it, he’s out of your league.” Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, “I wasn’t thinkin’ bout nothing.” Your friend took a seat next to you and pursed his lips. “Mhm, that's why you're already trying to draw him?” The audacity of some people, you thought. You slammed your sketchbook closed and sat up. “Ain’t your business!”

You turned your head to get one last glimpse, but he was gone as quickly as he appeared. A little knot formed in your stomach thinking about how he was out of your league. Most rich people are cunts anyway it shouldn’t matter to you… Maybe, you would just admire him from afar.

At dinner, Aegon’s feelings didn’t get any better. As he sat with his mother and fiancée all he could think about was how pointless his life truly was. A few offhand remarks by the women didn't ease his depression either. Why did he always ruin everything he touched? Why couldn’t he ever be enough? Why was he forced to live such a meaningless life?

“Aegon,” his mother called out to him as he stared lifelessly into his soup. “You’re embarrassing me in front of everyone… no wonder your father disowned you.” His fiancée whispered in his ear. He had more than enough encouragement to rid this world of himself and this was the final push.

Aegon excused himself from the table and stormed out of the dining area. His destination was the ship deck so he could throw himself off. Hopefully, he would freeze to death, or a shark would eat him before anyone could rescue him. Tears slowly dripped down his face as he walked outside. The wind cooled his tears enough they burned his skin.

You were out there trying to paint the sky when he returned. Though, he was a complete mess this time around. You watched him climb up the railing and over the other side. The crazy bastard is trying to jump! As a nurse in training, it was your job to act first.

“I wouldn’t jump if I were you, mister!” A gentle voice caught Aegon’s attention from behind. He furrowed his brows and whipped his head around at the sound of his voice. “Stay back! Don't come any closer!” The tear tracks on his cheeks were gleaming in the faint glow from the stern running lights.

“Take my hand. I'll pull you back in.” He immediately snapped back, “No! Stay where you are. I mean it. I'll let go.” you rolled your eyes, “No you won't.” He loosens his grip on the railing, “Don't presume to tell me what I will and will not do. You don't know me.”

“You would have done it already. Now come on, take my hand.” Aegon is confused now, he couldn’t see her very well through the tears, so he wiped them with one hand, almost losing his balance. “You're distracting me. Go away.” You approach the railing slowly, “I can't. I'm involved now. If you let go I have to jump in after you.” Aegon turned around to finally get a glance at you. He was shocked to see how beautiful you were, the moon outlined your silhouette like a guardian Angel. “D-Don't be absurd. You'll be killed.”

You took off your jacket, “I'm a good swimmer.” You move to unlace your shoe and he speaks up, “the fall alone would kill you.” You glanced down, “It would hurt. but to be honest mister I'm a lot more concerned about the water being so cold.” Aegon looked down. The reality of what he was doing started sinking in. “How cold?” You start taking off your shoe, “it’s the Atlantic so a little above freezing.” You take off your other shoe, “Ever been to Maine?” Aegon was completely perplexed, “No.”

“Well, they have some of the coldest winters around, and I grew up there, near Wells. Once when I was a kid me and my father were ice-skating out on Lake Wissota... ice-skating where you get on frozen ice–�� He scoffed, “I know what ice skating is!” You raise your hands in defeat, “Sorry. You just... you look kind of like an indoor guy. Anyway, I went through some thin ice and I'm tellin' ya, water that cold... like that right down there... it hits you like a thousand knives all over your body. You can't breathe, you can't think... at least not about anything but the pain.” You slowly take another step forward, “Which is why I'm not looking forward to jumping in after you. But as I said, I don't see a choice. I guess I'm kinda hoping you'll come back over the rail and get me off the hook here.”

“You’re crazy.” He was completely distracted by you, and Aegon forgot about what he originally intended to do. “That's what everybody says. But with all due respect, I'm not the one hanging off the back of a ship.”

You slid one step closer, like moving up on a spooked horse. “Come on. A pretty boy like you shouldn’t die like this.” Aegon stared at this madwoman for a long time. He looked at your eyes and they somehow suddenly seemed to fill his universe, “Alright.” He unfastened one hand from the rail and reached it around toward you. You reached out to take it, firmly. “I'm Y/N.” Aegon smiled,

“Pleased to meet you, Miss. Y/N.” All seemed well until his foot slipped on the water that was coating the edge. He let out a less-than-manly scream as he almost dragged you over with him. Your grip tightened and you bit your lip while trying to pull him over. Damn, he was fucking heavy.

He kicked his feet against the edge hard enough you could pull him up over the railing once more. The force was a bit much as he landed on top of you. There was a brief moment of silence where you stared up at him. This was a pathetic lunatic for sure but a very beautiful one.

A group of crewmen disrupts your moment of admiration by dragging him off of you and pulling you to your feet. They began yelling at each other as one struggled to pull handcuffs out of his pocket. You tried to explain but they weren’t listening to your pleas. Two women came barreling out onto the deck screeching about what had happened. “Let go of my son, son,” his apparent mother shouted. “What has my fiancé done?”

Ah, it was too good to be true after all. He had a beautiful posh fiancée waiting for him. “We saw him assaulting this woman!” One of the men shouted and Aegon immediately denied it. The woman’s eyes were a mix of confusion and subtle rage. “It was a misunderstanding! I came up here to admire the view and nearly fell to my death before he saved me!” You weren’t exactly sure why you were lying to a stranger, but something told you they didn’t need to know the truth. “It’s true! I was out here for a smoke when I saw her.”

“You heard the girl! My son is no rapist.” The men glanced at you asking for confirmation, and you nodded your head in response. One of them let out a sigh as they uncuffed him. Aegon mouthed a thank you as the crew walked off. “Thank you for defending my fiancée,” she smiled at you. “Of course, Miss.” Aegon seemed to roll his eyes at her own voice.

“Would you like to join us for dinner, dear? As a token of our appreciation?” His mother said in a way that sounded more like a demand than a request. You wouldn’t deny an all-paid-for fancy mean though. “If it would be alright.” Aegon smiled to himself as they bid you goodnight. Your luck seemed to be far from running out.

Aegon woke up early the next day; he prepared his clothes the night before and was sure to wear his best casual attire. He was more than excited to spend time with you before the eminent dinner with his family. That part didn’t excite him, his family was hard to deal with as you will soon find out. Plus, his fiancé would ruin any chance he had with you.

It was wrong of him to think about cheating on her but once again it was a forced arrangement. Perhaps you could be his way out of it or maybe a way to distract him. At this time, you were playing a dull game with your two bunk bates. You kept thinking about him, his pretty face, and his madness all throughout that day… too bad he was to be married.

“Hello Y/N.” Your two friends are absolutely floored by his arrival. It's like Cinderella's slipper fitting Cinderella. “Hello again.” Aegon glanced around, “Could I speak to you in private?” You stood up nervously, “Uh, yes. Of course. After you.” He motioned you ahead. Asgon glanced over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised, as he walked out with you leaving a stunned silence.

You both walked side by side onto the deck. You passed people reading and talking in steamer chairs, some of whom glanced curiously at the mismatched couple. You felt completely out of place in your rough clothes. You were both awkward, for different reasons. “So, you got a name by the way?”

He shuffled next to you, “Aegon. Aegon Targaryen.” You snickered, “That's quite a moniker. I may hafta get you to write that down.” There was an awkward pause and you felt like throwing yourself off the ship now.

“Miss. Y/N, I-” you cut him off, “Y/N.” He took a breath, “Y/N... I feel like such an idiot. It took me all morning to get up the nerve to face you.” You smiled, “Well, here you are.”

Aegon began playing with the rings on his fingers, “I... I want to thank you for what you did. Not just for... for pulling me back. But for your discretion.” You patted his shoulder, “No problem at all.”

He turned to you. “Look, I know what you must be thinking! Poor little rich boy. What does he know about misery?” Aegon was beyond embarrassed he made such a fool of himself in front of a pretty girl. Normally, he would be more nonchalant, but you had done something to him. “That's not what I was thinking. What I was thinking was... what could have happened to hurt this man so much he thought he had no way out.”

He let out a sigh of relief, “I don't... it wasn't just one thing. It was everything. And I was trapped in it, like a dragon in ice.” He started speaking too fast to fully make out, “I just had to get away... and then I was at the back rail and there was no more ship... even the Titanic wasn't big enough. Not enough to get away from them. And before I'd really thought about it, I was over the rail. I was so furious. I'll show them!”

“Uh-huh. They'll be sorry. 'Course you'll be dead.” He lowered his head, “Oh Gods, I am such an utter fool.” You raised a brow, “That chicken last night, is she one of them?” The penguin was his fiancé who was dressed in red feathers. “Chicken? Oh, Y/N/N! She is them.” You cocked your head over to look at him, “So you feel like you're stuck 'cause you're marrying' this chicken.” Aegon finally smiled brightly, “Exactly!” You thought to yourself, there was a pretty obvious solution. “So don't marry him.” He scoffed, “If only it were that simple.”

You hummed, “It is that simple.” He furrowed his brow, “don't judge me until you've seen my world.” You smirked, “Well, I guess I will tonight.” Aegon got mildly flustered once again for reasons unknown. He started looking for another topic, any other topic, and he indicated your sketchbook. “This? It’s just some sketches.” He reached his hand out, “May I?”

The question is rhetorical because he had already grabbed the book. He sat on a deck chair and opened the sketchbook. He noticed each one was a random picture of different people. An old woman’s hands, a parent and their child sleeping on a bench, a couple dancing in the street… It was like the condition of humanity. “These are quite good.”

You smiled, “I just seem to spew 'em out. Besides, they're not worth a damn anyway.” You picked up two loose pages and tossed them. He laughed, “You're deranged!” No

He turned a page and well… He had come upon a series of nudes. He blushed, Aegon was completely transfixed, they felt... almost uncomfortably intimate. It wasn’t like he was one to shy away from the human form just didn’t expect it from… A woman. “Where were these drawn from?” Your smile grew wide, “Paris! Lots of people are willing to take off their clothes to be a part of art.”

His eyes narrowed towards one, “You liked this man. You used him several times.” You giggled, “Nah, he had beautiful hands.” Aegon raised a brow, “I think you had a love affair with him…” You shoved his shoulder, “No, never! Just with his hands.” Aegon looked up from the drawing and into your eyes. They were laced with sincerity and something else… God, he was too handsome to be wasting time with the likes of you. “You have a gift, Y/N. You see people.” You were talented, kind, and beautiful… How did he stumble upon someone like you? “I see you.” There it was your piercing gaze that went right through his universe. “And...?” You smiled, “You wouldn't jump.”

“You know, my dream has always been to just chuck it all and become an artist... living in a garret, poor but free!” You laughed at him, “You wouldn't last two days. There's no hot water, and hardly ever any fancy food.” He faked an angry face, “Listen, missy... I hate fancy food! And I'm tired of people dismissing my dreams” You patted his head. “I'm sorry.”

“I just hate all of these duties that I have. I feel this way. I don't know what it is, whether I should be an artist, or I don't know... a dancer… a nude model… or a moving picture actor!” Aegon grabbed your hand and ran, pulling you along the deck toward-- He pulled you into the midst of filming and began pretending to be a part of it.

You had spent the entire day with him accidentally. Maybe you told him a little too much about yourself, but it didn’t seem to matter. He enjoyed listening to your stories about your travels and your failure in nursing school. Aegon was the opposite of what you imagined a rich person to be. “So, then what, Miss. Adventurer?”

“Well, when housing cost too much, I went down to Los Angeles to the pier in Santa Monica. I sketched portraits there for ten cents apiece.” His mouth gaped sarcastically,

“A whole ten cents?!” The sarcasm went right over your head, “it was great money... I could make a dollar a day. When it got cold, I decided to go to Paris after a while and see what the real artists were doing.”

Aegon seemed to get lost in his head staring off into the distance. “I wish I could be like you… free from everything.” You turned to him, “We could go there, sometime... to that pier.” He grinned, “we're going. We'll drink cheap beer and go on rollercoasters until we throw up and we'll ride horses on the beach... right in the surf.” You laughed, “A woman riding a horse? Do you mean one leg on each side? Scandalous!” He turned to you and the sunset perfectly framed his face. His eyes brightened, “if you’d like.” You grinned, “I think I would.”

A woman by the name of Molly came to your rescue. Apparently, she didn’t appreciate Aegon’s family very much and gladly gave you all the things you needed to show off. Molly lent you a very posh dress for the dinner and taught you a few especially important manners. You didn’t quite remember them all but that would be okay… you think.

You stood awkwardly on the staircase looking for the family you were meant to dine with. A few men approached you and so you decided to practice your manners with them… They snickered under their breath at your daftness. Before you could open your mouth to snap back, Aegon finally arrived at your side. “Miss, y/n.” He picked up your hand and placed a firm kiss on it.

You couldn’t help it; you were sure your face turned ten shades of red. He stuck out his arm urging you to take it… the manners of the rich confused you. “You look very posh.” Aegon leaned into your ear. You forced a smile as you approached his family. “It doesn’t suit me.”

“Mother, y/n/n, I’m sure you remember miss y/n.” They turned with shocked expressions, and his fiancé smiled brightly, “y/n- you could almost pass for a lady.” You nodded at her, “almost.” You wanted to slap that grin off her face as soon as possible.

They strode off into the crowd of people and Aegon pulled you along with them. He tried to list off the names of everyone attending but you couldn’t remember. He even tried to introduce you to someone, but he was obviously suspicious of you. You were nervous but you never faltered. No way would you let these rich folks make a fool of you.

Alicent was the first to speak to you at the dinner table, “What is it like in steerage, I hear they're quite good on this ship.” It was an insult disguised as a question. You smiled politely, “Fantastic ma'am. Hardly any rats.” Aegon motioned for you to take the napkin off your plate. What was with all of these rules?

His fiancé spoke up, Miss. Y/N is joining us from the third class. She was of assistance to my fiancé last night.” She turned to you and spoke as if she was talking to a child. “This is foie gras. It's goose liver.” You dug your nails into your thighs and tried to hide your obvious anger. A soft hand brushed against yours catching your attention away from the sudden whispers about you. Aegon regretted bringing you here already. “How do you take your caviar, Miss?”

His fiancé answered for you, the cunt. “Just a soupcon of lemon… it improves the flavor with champagne.” You nodded, “No caviar for me, thanks… I never did like it much.” You looked at Aegon, proudly, and he smiled back. “And where exactly do you live, Miss. Y/N?” Alicent asked. “Well, right now the Titanic. After that, I’d like to travel to America.”

Salad is served, you reached for the fish fork. Aegon gave you a look and picked up the salad fork, prompting you with his eyes. Damn, why the need for different forks? Alicent spoke again, “You find that sort of rootless existence appealing, do you?” You ignored her tone and decided to answer honestly.

“My father was always talking about going to see the ocean. He died in the town he was born in and never did see it. See, my folks died in a fire when I was in nursing school, and I've been on the road since. Something like that teaches you to make each day count.” Aegon smiled, “Well said, Y/N.” Alicent, annoyed that you had scored a point against her, pressed further. “How is it you have the means to travel?” You smiled, “I work my way from place to place. I do nursing jobs on the side… actually I won my ticket to get on here.”

Aegon smiled to himself, a very lucky win indeed. The rest of the dinner went by rather smoothly. You kept quiet most of the time trying to not barf at the taste of the food. When dessert was finally over Aegon spoke to you directly for the first time that night.

“Next it'll be brandies in the Smoking Room.” He whispered slowly, “Now they retreat into a cloud of smoke and congratulate each other on being masters of the universe.” You nearly laughed but were interrupted by his fiancé. “Joining us, Y/N? You don't want to stay out here with the men, do you?”

Actually, you do, but... “No thanks. I'm heading back.” Alicent stood up. “Probably best. It'll be all business and gossip; it won't interest you. Good of you to come.” The women took their leave, and you stood up to go as well. “Must you go so early?” You winked at Aegon, “Time for my coach to turn back into a pumpkin.”

He leant over to take your hand. Aegon noticed the piece of paper in it and you nod at him to take it. You say a quick goodbye before you scurry off to your usual quarters. Aegon opens the note below the table. "Meet me at the clock".

He smirked to himself then got up to politely excuse himself. You were the complete opposite of any of the women he was forced to be around, and he found himself fancying you more than he should. Aegon should thank his father for disowning him and getting rid of his trust fund because that’s exactly why he was able to meet you.

You were staring at the giant clock in the middle of the staircase. You looked beautiful even from behind. You turned and caught him staring, “Want to go to a real party?”

The below-deck crowd was led and alive with music, laughter, and raucous carrying on. An unknown band was gathered near the upright piano, honking out lively stomping music on fiddle, accordion, and tambourine. People of all ages are dancing, drinking beer and wine, smoking, laughing, and even brawling. Aegon was completely amazed by the scene; he could get used to it.

Your friend handed Aegon a pint of stout and she chugs it. You patiently waited for him to finish his newfound alcoholism and dance with you. When you get impatient you grab him by the collar and drag him into the middle of the floor. “I don’t know the steps!” You giggled, “just follow me!” The music started and you were off. He was a little awkward at first, but eventually, he’s the one leading you.

Aegon has the brightest smile plastered across his face as he spins you around the crowd. He stares at you with flushed cheeks, and your sweat glistens perfectly on your skin. You truly were an angel sent for him and only him.

“Come to Josephine in my flying machine. And it's up she goes! Up she goes! In the air, she goes. Where? There she goes!” You both drunkenly stumble over the words and break down laughing. You’ve walked Aegon all the way back to first-class before anyone can notice his absence. Though he doesn’t leave right away and instead leans onto the rail.

“They're such meaningless people... my crowd. They think they're gods on earth, but they're not even dust in the universe’s gaze. They live inside this little, tiny glass bubble... and someday the bubble's going to burst.” You leaned on the rail next to him, your hands barely touched his, but it was enough to fluster you both. It is the slightest contact imaginable, and yet it’s the only thing either of you could feel.

“You're not one of them. There's been a mistake.” Aegon looked at you confused, “A mistake?” You smiled, “Uh huh. You got switched at birth or something.” Aegon laughed at you, “I did huh?” You stood there in silence until you spotted a long streak of light in the sky, “Look! A shooting star.” He smiled, “Aren't we supposed to wish on it?”

Aegon glanced at you and realized that you were suddenly very close together. It would be so easy to move another couple of inches, to kiss you. Your eyes told him he could if only he took one more step. "What would you wish for?” You stepped back and forced a smile, “Something I can't have. Goodnight, Aegon. And thank you.” You took off in a hurry, any more time spent in the same vicinity as him would mean you making a grave mistake. No falling for an engaged man, no falling for someone in a different class than you.

“Y/N,” Aegon moves to follow you, but his attention is caught by people piling out of the first-class entrance. What did he do wrong?

His mother had berated him the entire night for what he had done. He was caught dancing with you and for some reason, that was the end of the world for her. Aegon was tired of constantly being forced to do his parents' bidding. The only reason he was engaged to this girl was that she had money and he didn’t. Once Alicent was finished scolding him he took off towards the deck.

The ring

The damned ring he was going to give her with the blue diamond in the middle. He could chuck it into the ocean right now and not care anymore. That wouldn’t do, it was too expensive for such a faith. So, he locked it in a safe and decided to forget about it completely. He was done being a pawn for those around him.

Aegon couldn’t handle rejection, nor could he handle being away from you for this long. He had no idea what had gone wrong, but he was desperate to fix it. He snuck below deck the next day where you were playing a game of poker with your friends.

The sound of a knock on the door caught the group's attention. Who the hell knocks down here? You opened the door and your mouth gaped. “Can I talk to you...,” he peered over your shoulders, “…alone.” You turned to your group of friends, and they looked just as shocked as you. “Prince Charming came back,” Tommy snickered. “Go on, Cinderella,” Bjorn yelled at you.

You let out a sigh, “fine.” Aegon smiled and you walked into the hallway with him. Before you could get a word out, he grabbed you by the shoulders. “You're no picnic… you know that? You’re a broke, low-class girl with no manners but under that, you're a strong, pure heart, and you're the most amazingly astounding girl I've ever known and–“ You were completely caught off guard, “Aeg- I-”

He cut you off, “No wait. Let me try to get this out. You're amazing... and I know I don’t have much to offer you anymore. I know that, but I'm involved now. I jump, you jump, remember?” You could feel the tears coming to your eyes. Aegon was always so open even though you barely knew each other... not like anyone you had ever known but he was also a rich boy with a fiancé, it wasn’t possible to be with him. “You're making this very hard.”

“They have me in a glass jar like some butterfly, and I’m going to die if I don't break out. Maybe not right away, 'cause I’m spiteful. But sooner or later the fire is going to go out and… and I need you with me.” Your lip pouted, “only you can save yourself. I’m just me.” He smiled, “You're wrong. You are everything to me. Just please think about it, Y/N.”

He pulled you forward and placed a quick kiss on your forehead before taking off. You were left completely dumbfounded and your thoughts swirling around your brain.

Aegon was standing at the place where you first met. He was letting the wind hit his face and calm his mind while he impatiently waited for you to come to him or forgive him or anything really. He was getting exceedingly desperate for anything from you.

“Hey, Egg,” He whipped his head around and a big smile blessed his face. “I changed my mind.” Aegon smiled at you, his eyes drinking you in entirely. Your cheeks were flushed by the cold wind, and your eyes sparkled more than the sapphire. “I asked around and they said you might be up–” He grabbed your hand before you could finish speaking. “Shh. Come here.” Aegon wrapped his hands around your waist. It looked as if he was going to kiss you.

“Close your eyes.” You were too flustered at first by the sudden contact but after a deep breath, you willingly shut your eyes. Aegon moved your hips, so you were facing forward, and he pressed you gently to the rail. It was getting too intimate, and you could feel your skin turning several shades of red.

Aegon took your arms and raised them until you were standing with your arms outstretched. When he lowered his hands, your arms stayed up... like wings. “Okay. Open them.” You let out a small gasp. There was nothing in your field of vision but open water. It's like there is no ship under you both at all, just the two of them flying. You could only hear the wind and the hiss of the water 50 feet below.

You giggled, “I'm flying!” You leaned forward, arching your back. Aegon put his hands on your waist to steady you. He started singing the tune from the other night softly, “come Josephine in my flying machine…” You smiled dreamily, then leaned back, gently pressing your back against his chest. Slowly he raised his hands, and they met yours... fingertips gently touching. Then he intertwined his fingers with yours.

Aegon leaned his head forward into your hair, letting the scent of you wash over him until his cheek was against your ear.

You turned your head and noticed his lips are near yours. You lowered your arms and your eyes fluttered shut until his lips met yours. As Aegon wrapped his arms around your hips you completely surrendered to him, to the emotion, to the inevitable. You kiss slowly and nervously, and then with passion.

Aegon snuck you into his room which was filled with beautiful woodwork and satin upholstery. You say your sketchbook and drawing materials are on the marble table. It was far too fancy for you; you couldn’t help but feel out of place here. “Will this light do? Don't artists need good light?” You faked a French accent, “ Zat is true, I am not used to working in such 'horrible conditions,'' you turned and saw his collection of paintings, “Hey... Monet!”

Aegon smiled, “Isn't he great... the use of color? I saw him once... through a hole in this garden fence in Giverny.” You watched him fiddle with a lock on a box, CLUNK! He unlocked the safe. He glanced up and smiled at you and tossed you a ring, “What is it? A sapphire?” He shook his head, “A diamond. A very rare diamond called the Heart of the Ocean.” You gazed at the wealth beyond your comprehension. “Why- why are you giving this to me?”

“Draw me like one of your French boys and it’s all yours.” Your mouth visibly dropped at the realization. Of course, you would happily oblige.

You carefully laid out your pencils like surgical tools. “The last thing I need is another picture of me looking like a doll. As a paying customer, I expect to get what I want.” Aegon took off his robe revealing himself and you assumed you looked completely shocked.

“Tell me when it looks right to you.” He pulled a blanket over his… parts. Aegon tried to mimic the guy from your drawing as best he could. “Uh... just bend your left leg a little and... and lower your head. Eyes to me…. Uh yeah.”

His abs were perfectly defined, and his skin was a gorgeous milky white. He looked like one of those famous Greek statues in a museum. You started to sketch but your nervous hands made you drop the pencil. He stifled a laugh, “I believe you are blushing, Ms. Big Artiste. I can't imagine Monet blushing.” You were obviously sweating, “He does landscapes.”

Despite your nervousness, you drew with sure strokes, and what emerged is the best thing you had ever done. His pose is languid, his hands beautiful, and his eyes radiate energy. It helped that Aegon was the perfect customer, he barely moved an inch and kept his eyes on you the whole time.

“Date it, Y/N. I want to always remember this night.” He leaned over your shoulder in his robe and peered at the drawing. Once again, you do everything he says because you are too flustered to do otherwise. He meanwhile scribbled a note on a piece of the Titanic stationary. He gladly accepted the drawing from you and shoved it in the safe in the wardrobe.

Once he got fully dressed you felt like you could breathe again. There was a noise, almost like a key being placed in a lock. Aegon grabbed your hand and ripped you up and yanked you through the bedroom.

He led you quickly along the corridor toward the B deck foyer. You were halfway across the open space when the sitting room door opened in the corridor and his mother came out. The valet sees you and runs after you.

“Come on,” Aegon shouted in a whisper. You break into a run, surprising the few ladies and gentlemen about. Aegon led you past the stairs to the bank of elevators. You run into one, shocking the hell out of the people inside.

“Take us down. Quickly, quickly!” Aegon motions to the operator. He even helped him close the steel gate. The valet ran up as the lift started to descend. He slammed one hand on the bars of the gate. Aegon flipped him off with a large grin causing the operator to gasp.

They escape to the boiler room filled with fans. You both leaned against a wall and began laughing. “Pretty tough for a valet, this fella,” you grinned. “He's an ex-Pinkerton. Y/N/N’s father hired him to keep her out of trouble... to make sure she always got back to the hotel with his wallet and watch, after crawling through the less reputable parts of town.” Aegon smiled. “Kinda like we're doin' right now-- uh oh!”

The valet popped up out of nowhere and charged toward you. Aegon took your hand once more and dashed into a blind alley. There was only one door, marked CREW ONLY, and Aegon flung it open. You entered a roaring fan room, with no way out but a ladder going down. Aegon latched the deadbolt on the door, and the valet slammed against it a moment later. Aegon grinned at you, pointing to the ladder. “After you, m'lady.”

You came down the ladder and realized this place looked like hell itself, shadowy figures moving in the smoky glow. You ran the length of the boiler room, dodging amazed stokers, and trimmers with their wheelbarrows of coal. Aegon shouted over the noise, “Carry on! Don't mind us!”

You rush through the open door into BOILER ROOM SIX. Aegon pulled you through the hot alley between two boilers and you wound up in the dark, out of sight of the working crew.

Aegon stops you and kisses your face, tasting the sweat trickling down from your forehead. You raised your chin up to him and pressed your lips roughly against his; you kiss passionately in the steamy, pounding darkness.

After you both gained some self-control, you ran into a new storage room. This time you stumble upon a brand-new touring car. You climbed into the upholstered back seat, acting very royal. Aegon jumped into the driver's seat, “Where to, Miss?” you grinned, “To the stars.”

You climbed into the back seat and reached your hands out to pull him over the seat into the back. He landed next to you, and his breath seemed loud in the quiet darkness. Aegon gazed at you and saw you smiling… It was the moment of truth. “Are you nervous?” You nervously smiled, “Au contraire, mon cher.”

Aegon gently stroked your face, cherishing every feature. “Touch me,” you whispered. He slid himself on top of you and pressed a gentle kiss against your lips.

Your heart raced as he kissed down your neck. You moaned softly, feeling the heady rush of excitement fill your body with desire. The lustful longing for this man consumed you, there was no turning back now. As his lips neared your breast, you pulled him closer and felt his soft hands caress your skin.

His mouth engulfed one nipple and began to suck it. Your moans were muffled by his hot breath and tender kisses. His hands groped your hips and tugged them up so that he could take your other breast between his teeth. His fingers curled around the hem of your gown and slowly rolled it up above your waist.

You gasped when his hand cupped your cunt through the thin fabric of your undergarments. He moved quickly to free you from them. Aegon slid his hand down to swirl around your throbbing clit. You let out small whimpers as he moved his fingers,

Aegon moved his lips back up to yours as his fingers dipped lower, so they rubbed outside your entrance. You arched your body towards him and sank your nails into his back. A low moan escaped his throat as he pushed two fingers inside you. You bucked your hips into his touch and closed your eyes. Aegon's fingers moved faster and slipped deeper inside you. His thumb found your clit, rubbing it rhythmically.

He suddenly stopped moving and leaned in close to whisper, "I love you." You trembled at his words. They made the fire within you burn brighter than before. You looked up at him and nodded, " I love you too."

His fingers began to move again, swirling and teasing. You cried out in pleasure as he plunged his fingers deep inside of you. Aegon's lips returned to yours as he kissed you passionately. His fingers thrust inside of you harder and faster until you came undone. Your legs quivered and shook uncontrollably as waves of pleasure coursed through you.

You kept your lips connected to his as you moved your hands to undo his belt. “Are you sure,” he whispered into your mouth. You nodded furiously causing him to smile. He quickly unbuttoned his trousers and slid them off his hips.

Aegon lifted your ass up and placed your thighs on either side of his waist. He ran his cock along your soaking cunt, preparing to slide inside. The tip of his manhood nudged against your slick opening. You took a deep breath as you waited for him to push forward. When he finally slid inside you, you let out a sharp cry.

You felt the heat of his thick cock spread inside of you. His length stretches you tightly and fills you completely. He lowered his head onto your shoulder, so your cheeks were touching. As he thrust in and out of you, he placed gentle kisses along your shoulder and neck.

"Aegon," you whimpered. The sound of your voice drove him wild. He pumped his hips faster while whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Gods, you were so beautiful underneath him. He loved the way you shuddered and shook because of him.

The car was filled with the sounds of your breathing and their skin slapping together. You raised a hand and hit the glass window leaving a mark on the condensation. You moved your hips with him, grinding yourself against him.

You moaned loudly as he bit down on your shoulder. He held your hips up with one hand while the other was squeezing your tits and doing circles around your nipple. Your cunt clenched around his shaft and squeezed each time he moved.

Aegon started to softly moan as he thrust inside you. They sounded absolutely heavenly in your ears; better than any orchestra you’ve heard. "I'm going to cum," he whimpered. You tightened your grip around his neck and pulled him down into another searing kiss. You tilted your pelvis up to meet his thrusts.

"Cum inside me," you begged. He slammed his hips against your thighs, and his cock exploded inside of you. You could feel him pulsing inside of you as he lost control. When he stopped pumping his seed into you, a warmth flowed throughout your entire body.

Aegon covered you both with his overcoat. You’re both huddled under it, intertwined, still mostly clothed. Your faces were flushed, and you looked at each other wonderingly. You rested a hand on his face as if making sure he was real, “You're trembling.” Aegon smiled.

“It's okay. I'm alright.” He moved to lay his cheek against your chest, “I can feel your heart beating.” You held his head to your chest and just held on for dear life.

After you cleaned up, both of you headed up to the ship deck. The entire time his eyes barely left you. “When this ship docks, I'm getting off with you.” You laughed, “This is crazy.” He nodded, “I know. It doesn't make any sense. That's why I trust it.” He pulled you back to him and kissed you fiercely.

The boat suddenly hit an iceberg causing it to bounce backward. Both of you slid back and into the nearby wall. You gave each other a worried glance and took off toward the front. You both leaned over the starboard rail, looking at the hull of the ship. Behind you, a couple of steerage guys were kicking the ice around the deck, laughing. “Looks okay. I don't see anything.” He furrowed his brows, “Could it have damaged the ship?” You were practically pushing yourself in fear right now. “It didn't seem like much of a bump. I'm sure we're okay.”

You were so tragically wrong; you both took off in opposite directions to go warn your own friends and family. That’s when the chaos erupted, and the alarms began to blare. Aegon had to drag his mother and fiancé out of their rooms in mere pajamas all the way to the deck. It became painstakingly obvious there weren't enough lifeboats for everyone and oh… upper-class women go first and you… you wouldn’t even make it onto a life raft!

“Goodbye mother,” he yelled as he took off towards the lower deck. His fiancé grabbed him from behind, “Where are you going? To give up your life? For her? Is that it? For your whore? For that gutter rat?” Aegon ripped his arm out of her grasp, “I'd rather be her whore than your husband.”

The lifeboats began to lower, and, in the distance, he could hear his mother and ex-fiancé screaming hysterically. The boat began to sway, and he struggled to keep his balance and was rushing to go find you.

Meanwhile, you had just been handcuffed to a goddamn pipe. There was something about you stealing a coat that wasn’t exactly wrong but why now of all god-forsaken times. The valet apparently snitched to his mother who then snitched to the captain who then sent a policeman after you. This was before they knew of the dire situation, of course, now you were all but forgotten in the chaos.

The pipe wouldn’t budge, and you could hear gurgling sounds of water starting to flow. You pulled harder and began to cry out, “Help!! Somebody!! Can anybody hear me?!” The water poured under the door and rapidly spread throughout the room. You worked against the cuffs until your skin was raw, this was no good. “Y/N? Y/NNNNNN??”

You were hopelessly pulling on the pipe again, straining until you turned red. You collapsed back on the bench. realizing you’re screwed. Then you heard him through the door.

Aegon was running aimlessly through the lower deck until he ran into your frantic friend, Tommy. Thank God Tommy cared the least bit to tell him that you had been fucking arrested. He rushed to the master at the arms room which held you captive. Aegon desperately called out your name as he tracked through the water. “AEGON!! In here!”

He spun on his heels and ran back, locating the right door, then pushed it open, creating a small wave. He splashed over you and put his arms around you. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” You both were so happy to see each other it was embarrassing. “Don’t worry about it now! See if you can find a key for these. Try those drawers. It's a little brass one.“ He kissed your face and hugged you again, then started to go through the desk.

“So… you don’t care I got arrested?” He turned to look at you, “don’t worry about it now!” He mocked your words from earlier.

You force a smile then he went back to ransacking the room, searching drawers and cupboards. You saw movement out the porthole and looked out. Another lifeboat has just landed in the water… too few lifeboats.

“There's no key in here.” You look around at the water, now almost two feet deep. You have pulled your feet up onto the bench. “You have to go for help.” Aegon nodded, “I'll be right back.”

You watched him splash through the water and started to realize this might be the last time you see him. This might be the last time you breathe air. Oh fuck, you have the worst luck in the world.

Aegon splashed down the hall to a stairwell going up to the next deck. He climbed the stairs and moved his way through the empty corridors. “Hello? Somebody?!” He turned a corner and ran along another corridor in a daze. The hall sloped down into water which shimmered, reflecting the light. The margin of the water creeps toward him. A young man appeared, running through the water, sending up geysers of spray. “Help me! We need help!” He doesn't look back; it was like a bad dream. The lights flickered and went out, leaving utter darkness. A beat. Then they come back on. He finds herself hyperventilating. That one moment of blackness was the most terrifying of his life.

He turned around and saw a glass case with a fire-axe in it. He breaks the glass with a battered suitcase which was lying discarded nearby, and seized the axe, running back the way he came.

When he reached the stairwell, he looked down and gasped. The water had flooded the bottom five steps. He went down and had to crouch to look along the corridor to the room where you were trapped. Aegon plunged into the water, which was up to his waist... and powered forward, holding the axe above his head in two hands. You have climbed up on the bench, and we’re hugging the waterpipe. The water was beyond fucking freezing, and you lost hope anyone was coming… Until Aeg waded in, holding the axe above his head. “Will this work?”

“Fuck yes!” You were both terrified but were trying to keep panic at bay. You pulled your hands back, so the short chain was exposed… No time for any practice swings. You winced, bracing yourself as he raised the axe. “You can do it, baby. Hit it as hard as you can, I trust you.” Your voice cracked and you closed your eyes tightly. The axe came down, K-WHANG! When Aegon opened his eyes, he saw you grinning with two separate cuffs.

“Nice work, there, Paul Bunyan.” You hopped off the bench and swam towards him. The water taking all the air out of your lungs, “Shit! Excuse my French. Ow ow ow, that is cold! Come on, let's go.”

“Fabrizio! Tommy!” Your friends turned to see you two approaching and ran to embrace you, “The boats are all going.” You glanced around, “We gotta get up there or we're gonna be gargling saltwater.” Tommy had his hands on the bars of the steel gate which blocked the head of the stairwell. The crew opened the gate a foot or so and a few women are squeezing through. “Women only. No men. No men!!”

But some terrified men, not understanding English, tried to rush through the gap, forcing the gate open. The crewmen and stewards pushed them back, shoving and punching them. “Get back! Get back you lot!” They struggled to get the gate closed again, while Steward #2 brandished a small revolver, another held a fire axe. They locked the gate, and a cry went up among the crowd, who surged forward, pounding against the steel and shouting in several languages.

“For the love of God, man, there are children down here! Let us up, so we can have a chance!” But the crewmen were scared now. They let the situation get out of hand, and now they have a mob. Tommy gave up and pushed his way back through the crowd, going down the stairs. “It's hopeless that way.”

You squeezed Aegon’s hand for comfort, “Well, whatever we're goin' to do, we better do it fast.” You decided to start sprinting in the other direction.

You, Aegon, Fabrizio and Tommy were lost, searching for a way out. You all came upon a narrow stairwell and went to go up two decks before you were stopped by a small group pressed up against a steel gate. The steerage men are yelling at a scared steward. “Go to the main stairwell, with everyone else. It'll all get sorted out there.”

Aegon took one look at this scene and finally just lost it. “God damn it to Hell son of a bitch!!” He grabbed one end of a bench that was bolted to the floor on the landing. He started pulling on it, and Tommy and Fabrizio pitched in until the bolts sheared, and it broke free. You figured out what they were doing and cleared a path up the stairs between the waiting people.

“Move aside! Quickly, move aside!” Aegon and Tommy ran up the steps with the bench and rammed it into the gate with all their strength. It ripped loose from its track and fell outward, narrowly missing the steward. The crowd surged through.

You all bursted out onto the boat deck from the crew stairs just aft of the third funnel. “The boats are gone!” Aegon noticed Colonel Gracie chugging forward along the deck, escorting two first class ladies. “Colonel! Are there any boats left?”

“Yes, sir... there are still a couple of boats all the way forward. This way, I'll lead you!” Aegon grabbed your hand, and they sprinted past him, with Tommy and Fabrizio close behind. The band from the other night was still playing music accepting their own demise. “Music to drown by. Now I know I'm in First Class.”

You quickly took notice of only women boarding. You looked back at your two friends, “You better check out the other side.” They ran and took off to the other side. “I'm not going without you.” Aegon pushed you forward, “Get in the boat, Y/N.” One of the crewmen began yelling, “Quickly, ladies. Step into the boat. Hurry, please!” He patted your head, “Go on. I'll get the next one.” You cried out, “No. Not without you!” Aegon smiled reassuringly, “I'll be alright. Hurry up so I can get going... I have my own boat to catch.”

The crewman grabbed your arm and pulled you toward the boat. You reached out for Aegon and your fingers brushed for a moment. Then you found yourself stepping down into the boat. Aegon knew he was screwed. He looked down at you, not wanting to waste a second of his last view of you.

All you could hear was the blood pounding in your ear. All you could feel was the tears rushing down your face. Damn it all to hell.

You lunged across the woman next to you. You grabbed the gunwale and began climbing it... You successfully hurl yourself out of the boat and onto the rail of the deck. “No Y/N! NOOOO!!” Aegon spun from the rail, running for the nearest way down to A-Deck.

You met at the bottom of the stairs and collided in an embrace. “Y/N, Y/N, you're so stupid, you're such an idiot–” He spoke as he kissed you repeatedly. “You jump, I jump, right?” He grinned sadly, “Right.”

You sprinted your way through the boat once more trying to reach the top deck. The corridor is awash, about a foot deep. A torrent of water came pouring down the stairs like rapids. It was far too powerful for you to go against. “Come on!” As you approached the giant double doors at the other end of the hall you saw water spraying through the gap between the doors right up to the ceiling. “Back! Go back!!”

Aegon turned and ran back the way you came, taking a turn into a cross-corridor. The double doors break open sounding a thunderous explosion of water. You tried to run as a wave blasted around the corner, foaming from floor to ceiling.

You barely made it to the large staircase leading up. The lights short out and the landing is plunged into darkness. It is by the grace of God that the gate that blocked your path gave and swung open. You were pushed through by the force of the water.

The room was empty except for Andrews, the captain. Behind him you and Aegon rushed into the room, out of breath and soaked. You ran through, toward the aft revolving door... then Aegon recognized him. He noticed that his lifebelt was off, lying on a table.

“Won't you even make a try for it, Mr. Andrews?” A single tear ran down his cheek, “I'm sorry that I didn't build you a stronger ship, young Aegon.”

You leaned over and whispered, “It's going fast... we've got to keep moving.” Andrews picked up his lifebelt and handed it to him. “Good luck to you, Aegon.” He smiled, “And to you, Mr. Andrews.” You forcefully pulled him away and through the revolving door.

You ran out of the palm court into a dense crowd. Aegon pushed his way to the rail and looked at the state of the ship. The bridge is under water and there is chaos on deck. Aegon helped you put your lifebelt on. “Okay... we keep moving aft. We have to stay on the ship as long as possible.”

Aegon and you clambered over the A-Deck aft rail. Then, using all his strength, he lowered you toward the deck below, holding on with one hand. You dangled, then fell. Aegon jumped down behind you. You joined a crowd of people literally clawing and scrambling over each other to get down the narrow stairs to the well deck... the only way aft.

Realizing it’s pointless you both do the same move once more. Lowering each other to the deck below. A zombified man spoke, “Yeah, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death–“ Aegon growled, “You wanna walk a little faster through that valley, fella?”

Aegon and you struggled aft as the angle increased. Hundreds of passengers, clinging to every fixed object on deck, huddled on their knees around a priest who had his voice raised in prayer. They were praying, sobbing, or just staring at nothing, their minds blank with dread. “Come on, you. We can't expect God to do all the work for us.”

You struggled on, shoving through the praying masses. Aegon and you made it to the stern rail, right at the base of the flagpole. You both gripped the rail, jammed in between other people. It is the spot where you pulled him back onto the ship, just two nights... and a century... ago. “...and I saw new heavens and a new earth. The former heavens and the former earth had passed away and the sea was no longer.”

The lights flickered, threatening to go out. You gripped Aegon as the stern raised into a night sky ablaze with stars. “I also saw a new Jerusalem, the holy city coming down out of heaven from God, beautiful as a bride prepared to meet her husband. I heard a loud voice from the throne ring out this is God's dwelling among men. He shall dwell with them, and they shall be his people and He shall be their God who is always with them.”

You stared at the faces of the doomed. “He shall wipe every tear from their eyes. And there shall be no more death or mourning, crying out or pain, for the former world has passed away.”

The stern of the ship fell back toward the water. On the deck everyone screamed as they felt themselves plummeting. Aegon and you struggled to hold onto the stern rail. Aegon looked at you and shook his head, grimly.

The stern went up and up, past 45 degrees, then past sixty. People started to fall, sliding and tumbling. They skidded down the deck, screaming and flailing to grab onto something.

“We have to move!” Aegon climbed over the stern rail and reached back for you. “Come on! I've got you!” Aegon pulled you over the rail. It is the same place you pulled him over the rail two nights earlier, going the other direction. The stern was now straight up in the air... a rumbling black monolith standing against the stars. It hangs there like that for a long grace note, its buoyancy stable.

Aegon and you laid side by side on what was the vertical face of the hull, gripping the railing, which is now horizontal. The final relentless plunge began as the stern section flooded. Looking down a hundred feet to the water, you dropped like an elevator. Aegon began talking fast, “Take a deep breath and hold it right before we go into the water. The ship will suck us down. Kick for the surface and keep kicking. Don't let go of my hand. We're gonna make it. Trust me.” You stared at the water coming up at you and gripped his hand harder. “I trust you.

Chaos exploded in the water of screaming, thrashing people. Over a thousand people were now floating where the ship went down. Some were stunned, gasping for breath. Others are crying, praying, moaning, shouting... screaming.

Aegon and you surfaced among them. “Swim, you! SWIM!” You tried to swim as fast as you could until you broke out of the crowd of people. He had to find some kind of flotation, anything to get you out of the freezing water. “Keep swimming. Keep moving. Come one, you can do it.” All around you there is a tremendous wailing, screaming and moaning... a chorus of tormented souls. And beyond that... nothing but black water stretching to the horizon. The sense of isolation and hopelessness is overwhelming.

Aegon stroked rhythmically, the effort keeping him from freezing. “Look for something floating. Some debris... wood... anything.” You mumbled, “It's so cold.” He frantically looked around, “I know. I know. Help me, here. Look around.”

You scanned the water, panting, barely able to draw a breath. You turned and... A devil is right in front of you face. It is the black French bulldog, swimming right at her like a sea monster, its coal eyes bugging. It moves past her, like it is headed for Newfoundland. Beyond it you saw something in the water. “What's that?”

Aegon saw what you were pointing to, and you made for it together. It was a piece of wooden debris, intricately carved. He pushed you up first then he slithered onto it belly down. Your breaths filled your ears as you glanced around at the scene around you. Both of you had to stay perfectly still or else the thing would plunge into the water.

You both float amid a chorus of damned. Aegon noticed the ship's officer nearby, He was blowing his whistle furiously, knowing the sound would carry over the water for miles. “The boats will come back for us, you. Hold on just a little longer. They had to row away for the suction and now they'll be coming back.” You nodded, his words helping you. You were shivering uncontrollably and had turned a shade of blue. “Thank God for you, Aegon.”

“It's getting quiet.” Aegon weakly raises his head, “Just a few more minutes. It'll take them a while to get the boats organized…” You didn’t believe him, half of the people around you were already dead. “I don't know about you, but I intend to write a strongly worded letter to the White Star Line about all this.”

He laughed weakly, but it sounded like a gasp of fear. “I love you, Aegon.” He took your hand. “No... don't say your good-byes, you. Don't you give up. Don't do it.” You felt your eyes beginning to close, “I'm so cold.”

“You're going to get out of this... you're going to go on and you're going to make babies and watch them grow and you're going to die an old lady, warm in your bed. Not here. Not this night. Do you understand me?” You found the slightest bit of energy, “Winning that ticket was the best thing that ever happened to me.” You sniffle, “It brought me to you. And I'm thankful, Aegon. I'm thankful.”

His voice trembled, “Do you still have that damned ring?” You hadn’t taken it out of your pocket, but you doubted it was still there. You slowly moved your head to the side and patted your ass. The fancy piece of shit was still with you. “I do.” He forced a smile, “You must do me this honor... promise me you will survive... that you will never give up... so that when we get out of here… you’ll let me marry you with that ring.” Your eyes clouded with tears, “I promise.”

“Never let go.” He gripped your hand and you laid with your heads together. “I promise. I will never let go, Aegon. I'll never let go.”

"Come Josephine in my flying machine..." You touched his shoulder with your free hand. He doesn't respond. you gently turned his face toward her. His breath was causing the air to run white… He wasn’t dead yet.

Your eyes slowly began to close again… but then you heard the sound of a whistle. You raised your head suddenly, cracking the ice as you ripped her hair off the wood. You tried to call out, but your voice is so weak they don't hear you. The boat is invisible now, the torch light impossibly far away. “I won’t let go. I promise.” You kiss his face which was still not completely frozen.

you rolled off the floating staircase and plunged into the icy water. You swam to Chief Officer Wilde's body and grabbed his whistle. You started to blow the whistle with all your might.

You were still blowing when a man took it from your mouth as they hauled you into the boat. “Over there. Aegon Targ- Targaryen.” You purposely used his last name hoping they would recognize him. With your last bit of strength, you pointed at your little raft and slipped into unconsciousness.

Jaehaera was shocked when she got a call requesting her parents to come and “confirm” the belongings they found on the wrecked ship. It had been so many years… She couldn’t believe they were even able to discover it at all.

She would have invited you and her father but you both passed recently, at the ripe age of 83. Aegon swore up and down he would never let go and he kept that promise, literally. He literally died in the same hospital bed as you, leaving Jaehaera, Jaehaerys, and Maelor on their own. You both were selfish assholes, but she couldn’t help but accept the invite.

The three were absolutely fucking shocked to find a nude painting of their father along with some old notes. “Darling now you can keep us both locked in your safe -- Aegon.” None of them understood what that meant but decided to not question it. Jaehaera nervously played with the diamond engagement ring you had gifted her before you died. God, it probably cost a million dollars and you so easily gave it to her.

She had to sit down and try to calm herself. You both were successful in your own right; you led adventurous lives and forced the three children to travel with you once they were born. You introduced them to so many different arts, music, and cultures. You were good parents… too good to be gone. She began crying into her hands as she searched through the belongings…

Jaehaerys sat down next to her and wrapped one arm around her shoulder. “Who would have guessed our parents had a love affair like the movies.”

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii #aegon targaryen #aegon x y/n #aegon x you #aegon x reader #aegon fic #aegon fluff #aegon smut #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii smut #aegon ii fic #aegon ii fanfic #hotd fic #hotd au #house of the dragon

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handspunyarns · 5 days ago

Text

You Were Marked: Day Thirty-One point Five.

pairing: din djarin x plus size / reverse age gap / fem!O/C

word count: 12K

chapter summary: Din and Marathel both struggle with the truth, Marathel tells a story about an old friend, and Din goes clothes shopping.

warnings:  ALL THE ANGST, mention of female bodily functions and medical issues, past abuse and SA, mention of murder and infanticide, mention of child SA, self-harm, mental illness, English and Mando’a cursing

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***   

You Were Marked: Masterlist

You Were Marked: <- Previous Chapter

Marathel felt completely incapable of speech. A Captain stood before her, and she was convinced that he was there take her away, that there was another Hold somewhere out there like her old Hold, with another Hunter and another Duke and another Bishop, and there was no way in Frith she would ever go back into a Hold to become a Diwhyn and be beaten for existing and kicked for being female and her hair pulled out for not obeying whatever a male desired to inflict upon her, and she wanted to scream no but the only noise she could make was a gurgling sound in her throat as she pulled on Din’s arm.

Din could feel the pull of her hand, the tremble of her arm, could practically smell the fear radiating from her, and he turned towards her, wondering if she was going to fight, flee, or freeze. He carefully gripped her hand on his arm, wrapping his fingers around the heel of her thumb, which he hoped would prevent her from slipping away. “Ma’mwsh ha’laa,” he said softly. Her eyes, with pupils dilated to nearly the size of her irises, flicked to his visor. “Don’t be afraid,” said Din, in a tone he would use with Grogu. “It will be all right.” Marathel shook her head and pulled even harder. “I know this man, Captain Teva. He’s a …” She whimpered and shut her eyes tight as he said Captain, and he realized why she was panicking. “No, ma’mwsh ha’laa. No. He’s not a Captain like that Elder monster. It’s a title, it’s his rank; this is a good man. He has helped me before. I believe he is here to help you. Will you trust me?” To Teva’s credit, he did not interrupt or step in; he merely stood still and softened his expression, waiting.

Ya-Bito stepped in to create a barrier between Marathel and Teva. “Sir, you are trespassing in a secure ward, and you are upsetting my patient.”

Doctor Dine’ and two others Din didn’t recognize came forward from behind the New Republic officers. Doctor Dine’ said, “They are not trespassing; they have the hospital’s permission to speak to this patient.” Just behind them was Siewan, who caught Marathel’s eye, mouthing I’m sorry.

“Dwy’tu’ar!” spat Marathel. “You said I’d be safe! You … pinky swore, you …” She wrenched her hand free from Din’s, leaned against the wall, and covered her face. Din gently touched her arm, but she shied away, which hurt Din’s heart in a way he didn’t expect.

“I’m sorry, my mesh’la …” began Din, surprising both Marathel and himself. Her heart leapt at the endearment, but figured it was only a force of habit, and then sank deep into despair. Who can I trust? These doctors, these nurses? Can I even trust Din?

The voices of the Dahls came to her again, sinister and so frighteningly loud. You can’t trust anyone who says they’re going to help you. You don’t deserve help. You are worthless, you stupid whore cu—…

“I have had enough of you!” whispered Marathel, pressing her fists into her temples, pulling hard on her hair. For a few moments all she could hear was her own breath going in and out, and then a new voice, this one calm and quiet:

The only one you can trust right now is yourself, old girl. And the truth is, you will have to tell your story many, many times. You owe it to the four women who died for you, that you tell people what was done to every female in that Hold. If you don’t, you will hate yourself even more.

She took one last deep breath, exhaled, and straightened up, muttering, “I’ll speak to this … Captain …”

Din nodded and began, “I’ll be right there with you …”

“No can do, Mando. My specific orders are to keep you two separated,” said Teva.

Din turned back to Teva. “Excuse me?”

“Lady ap Bishop goes with these doctors and officers; you’re with me. Let’s go.”

“That doesn’t work for me.”

“Can’t be helped. This is the way, Mando.”

Din glared at Teva, who at least looked apologetic. He turned back to Marathel, who stood there, staring at the floor, looking sad and lost and … alone. He squeezed her arm and said, “It will be all right.” She shrugged and looked away. He dropped his hand and said to Teva, “Let’s go.” The little group broke up into two factions: Marathel went with the doctors and the female officers, and Din went the opposite direction with Teva and another man who said he represented the hospital. As he passed Siewan, he couldn’t help but feel betrayed on Marathel’s behalf. He muttered to Teva, “So how’d you find us? I slingshot those holos …”

“We sent away teams to both Unmanarall and here long before that, Mando. We put a tracker on your ship.”

Haar’chak. “Nice to hear that things haven’t changed much since the Rebellion.”

“I have a wife and little daughters, Mando; you can’t just drop hypotheticals about a planet like that one and expect me to leave it alone.” They came to a small conference room and went inside. As the hospital rep shut the door and frosted the windows, Teva said, “Look. I appreciate the fact you figured out where they came from, originally. We just want to get some official findings on paper before involving the Lew’elan Parliament.” He motioned for Din to sit. “The reports I’m getting so far from the crew on the ground are exceptionally distressing. The women that remain run the gamut from suicidal to murderous to …” Teva sighed, unable to think of a word.

“Propositional?” Din thought of the little Hold girl, who had offered her body to him, and shuddered.

“You could have warned me.”

“If you’d read the damn report that I sent with the holos, you would have seen that I recommended sending only female human scouts. They’re terrified of everything else.”

“So, Mando, tell me why that is.”

Din did his best. Answer the question and offer nothing, as buir would say. Unsure of what answers Marathel would give, he briefly described receiving a tip through the Unreliable Mercenary Grapevine (leaving Karga out for … reasons) about a sub-ether call for a bounty hunter, using an old unrecognizable language with sketchy coordinates. He glossed over the fact that he lived in her house for a full six days, the fact that Marathel had a … bond with the Dahls, and especially the fact that bond made Marathel screw his brains out. Unfortunately, Teva wasn’t impressed.

“A bounty, to return a woman, who lived within walking distance from the guys who wanted her back? That makes no sense.”

Din shrugged. “I don’t judge. It was a job.”

“You got paid?”

“A few Old Republic coins. Not worth much.”

“Then why not just grab her and drag her up to those guys right when you got there?” asked Teva.

“They also wanted eggs.”

“Eggs?”

“Dahl eggs.”

“Those things lay eggs?”

Din tilted his helmet, and thought fondly of Marathel as he replied, “Of course they lay eggs. What else would they do?”

Teva asked, “So … what? You just hung out at her house until the eggs showed up?”

Din shrugged. “It was only a couple days.”

“Long enough to … well, ‘fuck her’ as the remaining women say. No, wait, I have that wrong,” said Teva, scrolling through his holopad. “She fucked you, and her intended Elder got mighty pissed.” Din sat silently, unmoving. “Do you deny that?”

“What she specifically said was ‘I took him’ …”

Teva raised an eyebrow. “And did she ‘take you’?”

Din tilted his helmet and glared at Teva for half a minute before he continued. “Her saying that did make her intended Elder — who was also her biological father — mighty pissed, yes.”

“Enough to … how did they put it? Make a Belwhyn out of her. So, you just left her there to be raped and tortured? Got your bounty and took off?”

Din did his best to say evenly, “I made a grave mistake by allowing them to take her into the Hold. When I attempted to rectify that, I was beaten unconscious.”

Teva nodded. “That was confirmed by the woman Klelia ap Duke, or, as my ground crew called her, the crazy blonde with the fireplace poker.” Din frowned at the choice of words under his helmet. “So, you were unconscious but were tended to by four women from the Hold: Olba ap Captain, Lorica ap Bishop, Tymfy ap Hunter, and Hylma ap Duke. These are the same women who brought out the injured Marathel and something called a … marchwyl?”

“A beskar hammer.”

“Are you still in possession of this hammer?”

Sort of. “No.”

“Why’d the women bring her out to you?”

“I … Olba asked me to take her for help. Olba raised Marathel from infancy and was her adoptive mother. Normally, when a woman is … made a Belwhyn, it is a death sentence. But since I had come from elsewhere, and had a ship …”

“Where’d you take her?” Din remained silent. “Why did you bring her back?”

“She …” Din couldn’t continue.

Teva tilted his head. “She what?”

“She told me to.”

After another hour, Din felt like he’d been run backwards through his mother’s old wringer clothes washer. Whether Teva got the answers he wanted, Din didn’t care. He said only as much as he felt he could without inviting any more questions, leaving out Grogu entirely, and only speaking of the Dahls as weird, ugly critters howling off in the distance. Teva didn’t want to leave that alone, though. “These Dahls … the women of the Hold all seem to agree that Marathel could control them.”

Din shrugged. “Marathel lived alone among them for thirty years. Maybe she tamed a few of them. Maybe they just liked her and saw her as part of their pack.”

“Any explanation why these critters would suddenly rise up, enter the Hold, and rip only the males to pieces?”

“They have good taste?”

Teva pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long-suffering sigh before changing the subject. Din was willing to speak about the physical evidence of the brutality that he’d witnessed on Marathel’s body, and the torturous Dilimgau. Those were important matters, not the actions of freaky goat-lizard-cat things that did the galaxy a favor, in Din’s opinion.

Teva folded his hands and took a breath before asking, “Describe this Dilimgau to me.”

Din swallowed and said, “It was a cylindrical tube of metal, slightly flared on one end. The surface was studded with sharp points. It had been … inserted into Marathel’s vagina, and then … kicked into place by the Captain, according to a little girl of the Hold, who then asked me if I would be her Elder and offered to fellate me.”

Teva blanched. “Sweet baby Jawas …”

The hospital rep — not a doctor, but a bean counter, by the look of him — whispered, “I think I’ve heard enough,” and left.

Din continued, “The women removed the Dilimgau from her on my ship when they were trying to render aid. The screams that I heard from Marathel when they did that ... I have never heard such agony. Then, Lorica ap Bishop threw it at my feet, blaming me for Marathel’s injuries. Marathel later told me that it was the only one, and it was never cleaned, so flesh would rot on it, and it was used as a deterrent for misbehavior from the women. Marathel developed sepsis directly because of that … thing.”

“Where is it now?”

“I’m going to assume that since you tracked my ship, you have also searched it. There is a divot on my floor from where both she and I beat the shab out of it with a hammer, and then I shot it out the airlock so she could blast it to bits with my ship’s lasers.”

Teva sighed again and rubbed his face with his hands. “Well, I can appreciate that action.” He drummed his fingers on the table for a few moments, looking over his notes. “But the rest of this situation … this is all a pile of bantha shit, Mando. It makes no kriffing sense! You said yourself you didn’t make any money on this venture. You probably went broke ferrying this woman back and forth; why would any mercenary put himself in that position?” Din did not answer. “You’ve given me nothing here! Why did she go into that Hold of her own will? Why did you take her away from there? Why did you take her back? Why did you leave her there? Why did you suddenly go back to get her? Why didn’t you bring up the situation there to the New Republic before now?”

“I’ll answer the last question first,” said Din, picking imaginary lint off his glove. “Primitive culture, blah, blah, blah.”

“So, what about the rest of it?”

Din sighed. “You really want to know?”

“Yes, dammit!”

“Off the record?”

Teva folded up his holopad and shoved it back in his bag. “Off the record.”

“None of your kriffing business.” Din stood up and moved towards the door.

“Mando …” Din turned back to Teva. “If her story is dramatically different than yours, we’re going to have to do this all over again.”

Din ground his teeth for a moment. “Are you going to extradite her back to Lew’el?”

Teva shook his head. “We’re not going to. The high magistrates of Lew’el might. After all, she is allegedly responsible for the deaths of 142 men, children, and infants of Lew’el descent. Does she wish to go to Lew’el?”

Din shook his head. “We haven’t had an opportunity to speak on much of anything. She was in bad shape and required surgery; she only woke up a couple hours ago.” Teva nodded and stood as well. “Are the remaining women being removed? Taken to Lew’el?”

“Probably. Not sure yet. A lot of paperwork must be done before that. It’s still a triage situation right now.” Teva cleared his throat. “Look, Mando … I had to interrogate you because the situation on Unmanrall is so kriffing horrible. And weird. None of us can wrap our heads around how horrible that place is. You did a good thing, helping Marathel, alerting us to the situation in that Hold. If it had been me in your boots… I don’t know. I don’t know what I would have done.” Din said nothing, but opened the door. “What does your … pet think of her?”

“My …? Oh. He loves her.”

“What about you?”

Din paused, his hand on the doorknob, but he didn’t answer. He stepped out and saw Siewan sitting on a chair in the corridor, holding Marathel’s blanket on her lap. Din turned back to Teva and said, “By the way, get your kriffing tracker and your people off my ship.” Teva and Din squared off for a moment. Then Teva nodded and went back up the corridor.

Once he’d gone, Siewan stood and came up to Din. “Mando, I promise you; it wasn’t me. It was nurse Brey that alerted authorities.” She sighed. “He doesn’t quite get it, that some situations need time to let the victim work some things out themselves. That they need … a damned moment to wrap their heads around what they’ve endured.” She handed him the blanket. “Marathel won’t want to see me; she believes I’ve betrayed her. She called me something, did you hear it? Something like …”

“Like doo-ih-tuh-air? Yes, I heard it.”

“She said it before, right when she first woke up. I was sitting with her in recovery, talking to her like I normally would. Saying things like, wake up now, you need to wake up. But then I said, wake up, Mando is worried about you, and she screamed that word. Do you have any idea what that means?”

Din remembered hearing the word as well; Marathel had said it while in a semi-conscious state aboard the Crest. He was holding her, his bare skin against hers, trying to get her warm as she’d carried on a one-sided Oldtalk conversation. “Marathel speaks a dialect of an ancient language. It’s befuddled a couple protocol droids so far. It’s rather colorful. She once told me to rhaff codieh.”

“Which means?”

“‘Piss up a rope.’”

Siewan laughed. “Damn, I like her.” Me too, thought Din. Me too. The two of them started walking back towards Marathel’s room. “What else has she called you?”

“Oh … let me see … tymffod, which means ‘asshole’, cigpell pudyn, which means … ‘meatball dick’ …” Siewan laughed so hard she snorted. “And then there was gwyr’dwp bai. ‘Stupid brat boy’, apparently.”

“What did you do to earn these epithets?”

“Exist in her presence.”

Siewan laughed again. “Ya-Bito said you have a pet name for her. What was it? Mah-moosh hah-lah? Is that from her language too?”

“It is. It means ‘wounded acorn.’ I was actually …” Din let his voice trail off.

Siewan looked at him, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, they walked in silence before running into Ya-Bito. “They’re still in there, and that Captain Teva just joined them,” she said, nodding her head towards a closed door. “They took a short break a little while ago.”

Din asked, “How did Marathel seem?”

Ya-Bito considered his question for a moment, then replied, “Quietly stoic.” That sounds bad, thought Din. As if she’d heard his thought, the green-skinned nurse said, “It worried me. She’s trying too hard to keep her emotions bottled up. It seems to me she desperately needs to talk about her trauma, but she either won’t or can’t. I think you’re the only person she seems to fully trust, but …”

“But, what?”

I think she is heartbroken over you, thought Ya-Bito. Out loud, she said, “I think Marathel has decided she must build a fortress around herself to survive. What are your plans for her when she is released?”

“I … haven’t fully figured that out yet,” said Din.

Siewan, who had been looking at Marathel’s chart, said, “Well, you better figure it out quick. Her chart says that she seems well enough — physically — to be released tomorrow. If she can keep herself out of the psych ward, that is. You brought her in wearing only that blanket. Can you bring her something to wear for when she leaves?”

Din thought about her bag, remembering that the only other clothes she had were a set of those blue clothes that he hated seeing her in, and those were soiled from fixing the hyperdrive console. “Could she not … just leave with what she’s wearing now?”

Din had never in his life received such withering looks as the nurses before him were giving. He believed that his beskar helmet might melt from the fire in their eyes. “I … uh … what do you suggest?”

The two women said together, “Mise-Tusil.”

Din grabbed his weapons from the trauma center lockers, made a quick run to the Crest, and was now walking across the footbridge that spanned over the busy traffic on the Strip below. As he walked with the throng of tourists, he looked up this Mise-Tusil on his holopad. Apparently, it was quite the swank and well-loved department store of Canto Bight. It was, however, about 8 klicks away, and Din did not want to be gone too long. He’d already left Grogu in childcare for far too long today, and now he was fretting over Marathel’s mental state. He didn’t know what Canto’s laws about involuntary psychiatric commitment were, but he felt that the nurses were trying to tell him — without telling him — that Marathel was straddling an emotional crevasse that she could fall into at any moment.

And yet, they send me shopping? Haar’chak.

Well, who in blue fuck else is going to get things for her, Djarin? She has practically nothing!

Din figured clothes were clothes, so he walked into the first shop he saw that featured female mannequins in the window. Naturally, he drew a lot of interested glances as he entered. The shop featured loud music and shiny displays of even shinier clothing. Hoping for something appropriate, he went straight to the counter, behind which a not-so-young woman with enormous yellow hair and far too precise makeup stood. Woof, thought Din. This is one hard-looking woman. She thrust her enhanced cleavage back at him with a smile. “Help you with something, metal man?”

“I’m looking for a set of clothing for a woman. Something soft and comfortable, please.”

“Well, I’m sure we can find you something that fits the bill,” said the saleswoman, with a voice that sounded like she ate death sticks instead of smoking them. She led Din to a display next to the lingerie department. “Comfortable, you say? Perhaps, something like … this?” She held up a strappy short — dress? — that looked about as comfortable as the rigging that held Marathel up in his fresher on the Crest, but nowhere near as practical.

Din tilted his helmet. “I believe I said soft and comfortable.”

The yellow-haired woman pouted her over-lined and painted poofy lips, saying, “But this is the sort of thing I like to wear when I want to get comfortable ... with someone special … who has big guns.” She reached out with a long, painted claw and ran it down his vambrace.

Nope, thought Din, drawing his arm away. “I would prefer something that the woman in question could wear as she leaves the hospital. Soft comfortable pants, and a shirt, something easy to wear.”

“Oh, well, then perhaps something more in our athleisure line, then. We have some great stuff if the woman is busty like me.” Yellowhair led him with her hotpants-clad flat ass towards the center of the store, where a redheaded woman — this one simply dressed and nowhere near as overly made-up as the yellow-haired woman — carefully folded stacks of simple shirts in a myriad of colors. “What do you think? Something in a nice blue, perhaps? Or hot pink?”

“I like the yellow one,” said Din, nodding at the shirt the redhead was currently folding.

This apparently tickled the yellow-haired tart, who sidled up against Din’s side and cooed, “Ooh, my favorite color! Well, metal man, I knew you at least had some good taste.”

As Din side-stepped slightly away from Madam Yellowhair Hotpants, the other saleswoman said, “It is a pretty yellow, but I know that this top is a bit on the sheer side, and really form-fitting.”

Yellowhair said, “It looks terrible on her, but it fits my form just fine.”

Din caught a slight eyeroll from the redhead, who said, “I recommend this. The fabric is very soft, and more substantial.” She held up a shirt with a slightly scooped neckline in a dusky purple that reminded Din of twilight on Unmanarall. He nodded in approval. “What size does she wear?”

“I’m honestly not sure. She’s a … slightly larger woman,” said Din, reaching into the bag he carried, which held Marathel’s blue clothing.

Yellowhair scoffed. “Is she fat? We don’t carry things for fat people here. They don’t deserve to have clothing like this …”

Din, fully annoyed now, turned to Yellowhair BitchFace and snapped, “You are excessively rude. And ugly. I would prefer to not speak to you further.”

Yellowhair blanched and spat, “You can’t speak to me like that! My husband owns this shop!”

“Then he has my complete sympathy, believe me.”

“What … you … walking dustbin! Peckerhead Mandalorian! Your dick probably wouldn’t fill my left ear anyway!” Yellowhair stomped towards the front door. “I’m going for a caf,” she screeched as she threw the door open and left.

Din turned back to the redhead, who was obviously amused by the exchange. “Please, excuse my behavior.”

She laughed. “Excuse, nothing. She’s an utter bitch. You made my day.”

“Is she going to cause you trouble?”

The redhead, who had freckles and a pretty smile, said, “Nah. She’s only wife seven of ten. And the only one he makes work!” Din chuckled. “So … did you have something there I can look at the size?” Din held up the blue shirt. “Well, unfortunately, it’s true, we don’t have anything that will fit your lady. This place does fit only skinny people. I recommend Mise-Tusil. That’s where I shop.”

“Then why do you work here?”

She laughed. “I get an employee discount, and my kids love these clothes. My cousin works at Mise-Tusil; let me see if she’s working today.” She tapped into a holopad for a few moments. “Yes, she’s there now. Take this token; it gets you a quickcart ride up there. Ask for Dursi. She’s expecting you.”

Din took the token. “Thank you. You’ve been very kind. Again, I apologize for causing trouble.”

“Please, no worries. I won’t see her for the rest of the day. When she says I’m going for a caf what she really means is glug glug glug!” crowed the redhead, holding up an imaginary bottle to her mouth. With a laugh, she sent Din on his way.

Din stepped up to the line of quickcarts —which were little more than a droid on wheels — and got in. He dropped the token in the appropriate slot and programmed his destination on the screen. As the cart zipped off, he felt utterly ridiculous, riding this rolling crate that seemed only slightly larger than a scooter for a toddler. As he was wondering if Grogu would enjoy such a toy, the cart stopped suddenly, making Din lurch forward in his seat. “You have arrived,” chirped the cart from a tinny speaker.

Din stepped out and looked at the impressive brass-and-glass edifice before him. Mise-Tusil, the sign read in illuminated letters in an elegant font. Din walked inside, the glass doors hissing. Here, he was greeted by fine marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and the sound of a musical trio playing pleasant music, music not unlike what he and Marathel danced to aboard the Crest. Well, this place smells expensive, thought Din.

A young Omwati man came forward and said, “Welcome to Mise-Tusil, sir. How may I be of service?”

“I am here to meet with a Miss Dursi,” replied Din.

“Of course, sir, I will let her know you are here. May I offer you a caf, or tea?” Din simply tilted his head, and the Omwati said, “Well, sir, if you would be so kind as to wait here, Dursi will be with you shortly.”

Din nodded his thanks and stood, waiting, feeling again like a ragged, drunken hobo standing somewhere so posh. At least they’re letting me hang on to my weapons, he thought as an amazingly stunning woman approached him. She looked quite exotic, taller than he but with a broader build, her skin deeply colored as rich black velvet night but with bright golden eyes and teeth, dressed in a classically cut pantsuit as scarlet as every sin Din never had the nerve to commit. “Mi- …” Din’s voice box failed him, and he had to clear his throat. “Miss Dursi?”

“Sir Mandalorian! Please, it’s just Dursi.”

“In that case, it’s just Mando.”

“Excellent! I am so pleased to meet you. Please, come with me.” Din dutifully fell in step beside Dursi as she led him to the top floor of the store. “I understand that you’re looking for some clothing for a plus-sized woman?”

“I am. She is scheduled to be released from the medical center tomorrow. I would like to find something appropriate for her.”

Dursi led him to a tall table in the center of her department. “I am sorry to hear that she is hospitalized, but I’m glad to hear she is well enough to leave there soon. It is a very good medical center; I know they take very good care of their patients. What is her name?”

“Marathel.”

“What a beautiful name. Tell me about her.”

Din was surprised that she was asking about Marathel, as opposed to starting to find clothing immediately. “I don’t know her size, but I do have some clothing of hers …”

“That’s excellent and very helpful, but please tell me about Marathel.” Din just looked at Dursi, unsure what she wanted to know. She asked, “What does she look like?”

“She’s … uh … she’s tall, almost my height. She’s between 45 and 50 years old. She’s, well, heavyset, but not overly so. She has very pale skin and silver hair and eyes.” Din was kicking himself for not being able to describe Marathel in more eloquent terms. He felt like he was giving a description to a marshal for a suspect in a crime.

Dursi smiled indulgently. “What is she like as a person?”

“She is … kind. And caring. Generous. Generous of her time and talents. Smarter than she’ll give herself credit for. Always thinking of others first, wanting to please. But … she’s fragile, and … sad.”

Dursi tilted her head and smiled. “And she’s in the hospital. I won’t ask why; that is none of my business. But here is a question I always like to ask about a lady I’m assisting: does she realize that she is beautiful?”

Din’s throat felt thick at the profound question. He thought of Marathel standing in her hut in that yellow dress, looking shocked and embarrassed that Grogu had woken him up by jumping nearly right on his groin. That was the … the first morning after. She chose to wear a dress when she’d only ever worn utilitarian clothing. She … maybe wanted to look pretty for me.

Din remembered that Dursi was waiting for an answer. “No. No, I don’t think she does.”

“So, I’m hearing that Marathel needs clothes that give her comfort, as well as give her some confidence, some elegance, some pride in herself,” said Dursi.

“Erm … sure.”

Dursi laughed. “And I’m hearing that you, Mando, are way out of your comfort zone. You have something of hers in the bag?”

“Uh, yes … here,” said Din, handing over the blue pants and shirt. “Be careful; they are soiled with engine grease.”

Dursi chuckled and pulled a pair of latex gloves from a box under the table. “Thanks for the warning.” She spread the shirt out, gave it a cursory look, and said, “Well, this is dreadful. Does it fit her?”

“Sort of?” said Din with a grimace. “I mean, it is big enough for her, but it’s …”

“The fabric is stiff and doesn’t hang well. Tell me, is Marathel more of a rounded shape or curvy?” Din tilted his helmet. “Does she have a definitive waist?”

“Well … yes.”

“Fuller on top?” Din blushed and nodded. “Any tummy? Is her, ah … aft section also on the fuller side?” she asked, chuckling at her own joke.

Din shifted side to side on his feet, clasped his hands behind his back and said quietly, “Erm … both.”

It’s a good thing this guy is a Mandalorian, thought Dursi. He’s so embarrassed I can see steam coming out from under that helmet. She unfolded the pants and saw pins holding the waistband a little tighter. “Well, that answers that question. Your Marathel is curvy.”

“I hate those pants,” blurted Din. “They are too big on her, and all those pockets make her look bigger than she is.”

“So Marathel has nice legs?”

“Her legs are wonderful,” said Din before he even realized he said a word, and he froze.

Dursi grinned. “And were the pants too long or short?”

“Too long, actually. She had to roll them up.”

“Excellent to know! I can get a measurement off these, then.” Dursi pulled out her tailor’s tape and deftly took several measurements, jotting the numbers down on a pad. She then took another look inside the bag and pulled out a purple top and green vest that Din had never seen before. “Well, these are quite nice. How do these fit her?”

“I have no idea.”

Dursi hummed and kept looking through the bag. “Oh, good, she does have some undergarments. She pulled out a folded bra and pair of underpants, grinned at Din, and said, “Don’t worry; I won’t ask you how well these fit.” She noted the sizes on her pad and put the items away. “I think we might have enough information now to find her something.” She folded the blue clothes and began to place them back in the bag.

“Could you … would you just please toss those out? They’re soiled, they’re dreadful — as you say — and I honestly would rather not see them on her again,” said Din.

Dursi frowned, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes. “These clothes belong to Marathel; do they not? If they are her clothes, only she should have the power to get rid of them. Do not take her power away.”

Din felt as small as he used to as a child, when his father would ask him the Five Whys of Root Cause Analysis. He rocked back on his heels and muttered, “Yes, ma’am.”

Dursi lightened her expression. “My goodness, Mando. I’m not going to morally censure you; I’m only reminding you that Marathel has her own mind. Lighten up a little, for the love of Frith.”

Din’s head snapped up. “What did you just say?”

“Did I say ‘Frith’? Holy loth-cats, I haven’t said that for years.” Dursi chuckled. “My cousin, Meejil, the one that sent you here? Well, we’re not actually cousins, but we grew up next door to each other. Her great-grandmother told us these stories from her childhood about a rabbity-kind of creature called Frith. Silly children’s stories from the planet Great-Nan came from; what was the name of it …?”

“Was it Lew’el?”

“Yes, Lew’el! I had forgotten all about that. I even had the books as a child. I read those …”

“Books?”

“Oh, yes. A whole series of stories. Great-Nan insisted they were ancient stories told for hundreds of years, back when they spoke a different old language, before Basic.”

Din couldn’t believe his ears. “Do you … would you please write down the name of one of these books?”

Dursi wrote one down immediately and handed the note to Din. “And there you are. Enough of that; let’s go pick out some things for Marathel.”

In the end, Din was exceptionally relieved that he’d finally come here. Dursi was so efficient that they’d picked out a few essentials for Marathel in a trice. They’d found two comfortable tops — one in a similar dusky purple to the one he’d seen in the other shop, and one in a russet-red color that he never would have chosen for her.

“There are three colors that all women can wear: purple, red, and teal blue,” said Dursi. “No matter their skin tone, no matter their size. Now, obviously, there are shades and tones and tints, but, that russet will put some color in her cheeks.”

Din believed her and bowed to her expertise. They also picked out a simple pair of soft jersey pants with a stretchy waist and pockets. Here, Dursi had more wisdom. “I’m sure you’ve wondered your whole life what the hell do women want? It’s very simple: Women want to be treated with respect. And women want pockets. And that’s it.”

Din shook his head. “It is certainly much more complicated than that.”

“Only if you make it more complicated than that, Mister Man. Now, let’s get her a few more foundations.”

It was shortly after that that Din learned what foundations were: underwear, and Dursi took a bit of delight in having Din pick some panties out for Marathel while she searched out a bra in Marathel’s size. He quickly chose full-coverage briefs in a simple black — he remembered Xi’an always wearing black because black hid a multitude of stains. He also didn’t want to have Marathel misconstrue anything by picking out a more … brief and revealing style. Dursi found a simple seamless bralette that had exceptionally soft fabric and hooked in the front so it wouldn’t rub on her damaged skin. She chose a pale pink color, wondering if Din would comment that they didn’t match the underpants. He did not. He thought about it, however, wondering if such a thing was allowed. Xi’an was not quite so endowed as Marathel and rarely wore a bra — which would also be black. Also, the prostitutes he’d enjoyed tended to be color-coordinated with their foundations, which generally contained one-tenth the fabric of the underwear he had in his hand.

“This should all do for now, but I expect you to bring your Marathel in once she’s released tomorrow. This is nowhere near enough for her to start her life over again.”

“I never said she was.”

“Mando, considering you brought me mostly soiled clothing and mini bottles of toiletries, I can only assume that what’s in this bag is everything she owns in this galaxy. I’m not sure what future Marathel is heading towards, but I guarantee that she will need more than this small pile here. I believe that even you have more clothing in your dirty laundry than what’s right here. Speaking of …” Dulsi closed Marathel’s bag, then held it in her hands, instead of sliding it across the table to Din. “I believe I will take home this bag and launder these things for her, so that it will be one less worry for her. Also, that means she must wear her new clothes and show herself she is beautiful. Besides, I want to meet her. I think I’ll like her very much.”

As Dursi was walking Din back to the entrance, he saw a colorful display for the children’s department. “Do you mind? I think I should see what the well-dressed toddler is wearing this season,” said Din.

“You have children? You and Marathel?”

Din stammered, “No, uh … no. The boy is a foundling, my traveling companion. Marathel and I are not a couple.”

Dursi, who couldn’t keep a Sabacc face if her life depended on it, managed to keep from laughing out loud. Oh, please, Mando. If you weren’t besotted with her, you wouldn’t have been so embarrassed by my simple questions. Still, she asked questions about Grogu’s size and play habits, and located some items for Din to consider. After a brief look at appropriately-sized clothing, he decided the boy had enough clothing for now. His eyes did fall on a large, pillow-type stuffed frog nearly Grogu’s size. Din would never admit it, but he wanted to get toys for Grogu, although he almost never did. The Crest was too small; and anyway, Grogu seemed to be the type to prefer to play with the box a toy came in. But the pillow frog was relatively useful as both bedding and a toy, and besides, the kid had been a real trouper lately.

He purchased the pillow frog, making sure to use his own credit book. Most of the purchases lately had been on the credit book that was technically Marathel’s. Captain Teva had been correct: he’d lost practically all his funds on this venture. He and Marathel would have to chat about that. She’d said before that she didn’t want the money, but that was before she’d essentially become a fugitive, and she would now need to learn about how to handle finances and take care of herself.

You also might as well contact Karga; get that ball rolling again. Things are what they are. It’s for Marathel’s future, and she needs all the help she can get.

By this time, Dursi had walked him back to the concierge. “Thank you, Dursi, for your kindness and expertise. I am grateful.”

Dursi held out her lovely hand for Din to take. “You are most welcome, Mando. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Here is my direct contact information; please let me know when to expect you and Marathel.”

“I will.”

“Please consider also, that we have a fine restaurant here as well as a salon; Marathel may well need some pampering to rejuvenate her soul after a hospital stay.”

“Perhaps.” Din was concerned about the costs of such things; he had little experience in these matters, and he didn’t want to overspend Marathel’s money for her. The clothing seemed to be good quality but was substantially more expensive than what he’d normally buy for himself. Again, he only had his experience with Xi’an in these matters, and he felt that the first store he’d visited was more her style. Still, Xi’an had better taste than Yellowhair Hotpants, thank Frith. Damn, that woman was janky. Belatedly, he asked, “Oh, where do I get tokens for the quickcarts?”

“There is a vending machine on the other side of the footbridge, or, in your case, I give you one. No, two, actually.” said Dursi, dropping two tokens into his palm. “One for tomorrow.”

“Thank you again.”

“My pleasure, Mando.”

Din left Mise-Tusil and walked across the footbridge to catch a quickcart back to the medical center. On the way, he made a quick detour to purchase some things from a food vendor; he felt that he’d been taking some advantage of the childcare’s snack arsenal. Hoping that Marathel had finished with the New Republic officers, Din went to the tower where Marathel’s ward was and left his weapons in their lockers before going upstairs, giving no fewer than three spit samples to access Grogu. He gave a couple of the purchased meals to the childcare workers, collected Grogu, and went back to Marathel’s ward, where he was met by a closed and locked door.

Siewan was now on duty, and she met Din by the door. “She finished up about an hour ago. The shrinks still want to talk to her, but they think she’s run out of spoons and needs a break.”

“Run out of spoons?” Din rattled his helmet in confusion. “Do these spoons have something to do with the fork?”

Now it was Siewan’s turn to be confused. “Fork? What fork?”

“Marathel made a point of showing nurse Ya-Bito a fork on her lunch tray. I had no idea what that meant.”

“Oh … my. I need to talk with Ya-Bito,” said Siewan. “Here, I’ll let you in. When Ya-Bito brought Marathel back here she immediately went into the fresher.” Siewan swung the door open. The room was empty, but Din could hear water running. The gowns Marathel had been wearing were in a pile on the bed along with her blanket. Siewan went to the cupboard and pulled out towels, two fresh gowns, and a folded padded something that Din didn’t recognize. Siewan tapped on the door leading to the fresher, calling, “Marathel? Mando and his little boy are back.” There was no response. “May I come in for a moment? I have towels and fresh gowns for you.” Din heard a muffled okay from behind the door as he set up Grogu on the chair next to the bed with a box of fried fish nuggets. Siewan disappeared into the fresher room, saying, “Honey? Are you doing okay?”

Din heard Marathel mutter, “I’m okay. I’m all right.”

Siewan then said, “I just want you to know that I wasn’t the one who told those authorities about you. The person who did meant well, but that is not something I would have done without your permission. I am sorry that you had to go through that against your will.”

Din heard Marathel sigh. “It’s okay.”

“Can I get you anything else?” Din didn’t hear Marathel answer; she must have shaken her head, because Siewan said, “Okay, then. If you need some help when you’re done in here, just press that button there, and I’ll come help.”

“Okay,” Din heard Marathel say flatly, thinking that Marathel sounded about as okay as he’d felt after that Blurrg of Kuiil’s had thrown him for the fourth time.

Siewan came out of the fresher room and looked at Din, shrugging. As she passed by him on the way out, she patted his arm and whispered, “Good luck.”

In the fresher, Marathel was sitting on a hard bench that she’d folded down from the wall. She rather liked this fresher. It was bigger than the one on Tatooine, and probably three times as large as the one on Din’s ship. There was no lip to step over to get inside, and the drain seemed to be at one end of the cubicle instead of the middle. She was curled over, her elbows on her knees as she hugged her shoulders, letting the hot water spray hit her upper back. She’d unbraided her hair and it had been pushed forward by the water over the top of her head, where it hung nearly to the floor. When she’d first sat down in here, she’d put the elastic band from her hair around her wrist, and she’d snapped it hard against her skin over and over and over, relishing both the noise and the painful sting it made. But it visibly abraded her skin after a while. She didn’t want new wounds where others could see them, so she removed it from her wrist and placed it on the extra fresher stool that sat against the wall.

She had no idea how long she’d talked to the women in that closed room with her, the doctors and the women in the grey-green uniforms, and then, eventually, that Captain Teva. She just kept talking and talking, like how she’d spilled her guts to Din on Tatooine. But unlike that time, she kept certain pieces of information to herself. Certain things were for her memory only. Certain things were to protect Din and Grogu.

She didn’t tell them Din’s name, only referring to him as the Bounty Hunter. She didn’t say Grogu’s name; she didn’t even mention the child at all. They’d questioned that, for some of the remaining women mentioned a green child, and Marathel shrugged and said, “I don’t know what they’re talking about.”

They asked, “How many days was he there alone with you?”

“A couple.”

“Did you have sexual relations with him?”

“No.” She was surprised at how comfortable she was, telling that lie. But I wasn’t fully myself anyway, so, not quite a lie.

“Why did you tell the Elders that you did?”

“So that they would take me into the Hold; that meant the Bounty Hunter would get the coins as a reward.”

“You knew about the coins?”

“Yes.”

“How many coins were there?”

“I don’t know. I never saw them.”

“Where are the coins now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why did the men of the Hold hurt you so badly?”

“That’s what men do. That’s how a Belwhyn is made.”

“When the Bounty Hunter took you away, do you know where you went?”

“No.”

“Why did you want to go back to your home planet?”

“I was too scared to be anywhere else.”

“Why did the Bounty Hunter take you back there?”

“I told him to.”

“Why did you go back into the Hold, Marathel?”

“The Elders needed to die. They’d only ever hurt me, abused me. They killed the women who helped me.”

“Did you kill the Elders?”

“Yes.”

“All four?”

“Three of four. The Duke died before I could get to him.”

“How many men did you kill?”

“All the males are dead.”

“Let me rephrase that, Marathel. How many men did you directly kill?”

This took a while. Marathel closed her eyes and recounted each life she took, starting with the one who caught her staring at the Round Wall, and ending with the Bishop in the courtyard. She described the manner each one had raped her on the platform, the ways they had abused her, then the manner she’d taken his life, all in great detail. She also told them about the men that she’d injured but had not died in front of her, like the boys she’d shoved down the stairs, and the underling the Hunter shoved at her. And then, Talric, who’d cut his own throat. Once she’d finally finished, the women in the room whispered to each other until Marathel asked, “How many?”

One of the Republic officers blanched and said, “Thirty-four.”

“Hmmm,” mused Marathel. “That many? I suppose so. That’s a good portion of the adult males who raped me on that platform. The little boys who did things to me would have been in the long building.”

“The little boys and infants that the Dahls ended up killing, yes?” Marathel shrugged. “Why did the Dahls do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“How did the Dahls get into the Hold? It was a walled and gated courtyard.”

“I left the gate open.”

“Why did you do that?”

“So that I could get out.”

“You intended to escape?”

Marathel shrugged again. “If I could.”

“Did you think you might die?”

“Perhaps.”

“Did it matter to you if you survived?”

“Not especially.”

“Why did the Bounty Hunter come back for you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Marathel, did you know that the Bishop was your father?”

“Yes.”

“And you were to be his … Whyn, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“We understand a Whyn to be a concubine, that is, a dedicated sexual … slave, for the lack of a better word.”

“… Yes.”

“A Whyn is also tasked with bearing children. Her father’s children. Sometimes, her brother’s, or her uncle’s children. And sometimes, even her son’s children?”

“That is correct.”

“And this is done willingly by the girl in question?”

“I don’t understand.”

“They would — you would do this of your own free will?”

“What other way would I have known?”

“But you know a different way now?”

“Yes.”

Such a good girl. You used to be such a good girl, my sweet girl, until you spread your cunt wide open and became a fucking whore, inbred incestuous monster whore for a criminal who feels nothing for you …

There was a tap on the door, which startled her, and she was back in the fresher. She turned her head towards the door, could just see it through her veil of wet hair. “What?”

The door opened a tiny bit. He heard Din’s mechanical voice saying, “It’s me, Marathel. Are you all right?”

She turned her gaze back to her hanging pendant, watching rivulets of water drain from the clam shell to the tops of her feet, down her toes and towards the drain. “I’m okay.”

Din, on the other side of the door, looking away from where he’d cracked it open, asked, “What can I do for you?”

“I’m all right.”

Din didn’t believe her any more than he believed Xi’an that one time she’d tried to convince him she was pregnant shortly after the land mine incident. He’d dragged her to a termination center, where it was discovered that she was not pregnant, but had lied to hang on to him, she’d said. He was so different after the land mine injuries, she’d said. He might have been okay with her catching pregnant, despite his vasectomy by explosion, despite her promising that she had ten-year implants, but the lie had been the last straw. He’d then told her, shove a blaster up your cunt and ride it straight to hell, bitch, and left her there. Even she didn’t deserve that, he thought to himself. That had been the moment their relationship ended, not the land mine blast itself.

Have I always been such a bastard asshole sonofabitch meatball dick? A stupid brat boy?

Din tapped on the door again. “May I come in?”

“Suit yourself,” replied Marathel.

Din opened the door so he could get through. “I’m averting my eyes.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Din looked at her, sitting hunched over on a bench, her hair hiding her face, the water sheeting down her back, following the lateral scars and dripping off her sides. He scanned the rest of the skin he could see and noticed a series of shallow puncture marks on her thigh. He pulled up the extra fresher stool next to her and sat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, mimicking her pose again, stretching the hair band over his gloved fingers. “I’m sorry about Teva and the Republic officers.”

“It doesn’t matter. I suppose I should answer for my crimes sooner than later.”

“I don’t think you’ve committed any actionable crime, Marathel.”

“But you’re not in charge of law and order, are you?”

Din blinked. “What do you know about law and order?”

“Cobb told me. He explained what a marshal was.”

Cobb, again. Haar’chak. “Teva told me that the Republic more than likely won’t seek legal action. They will, however, bring it up to officials on Lew’el. “

“Lew’el. I think I saw that painted on the Large Round Wall. I’d been looking at those squiggles my whole life, not knowing there were such a thing as letters, until Cobb showed me. He … wrote, is that the word? Wrote my name on a paper and gave it to me. That’s how I knew they were letters. Painted on the Large Round Wall. Then I killed a man for calling me a cunt. The very first one. The first one out of thirty-four. I even thought to myself, would Din love me more, now that I’m a murderer, like he is? How stupid of me, thinking like that. Now I know better.”

Concerned that she was now babbling nonsensically, Din said, “I’m turning off the water, Marathel.” She only shrugged. He stood and reached across her back to shut off the spigot. He took a towel and wrapped it around her shoulders, carefully blotting the water off her back and arms. “Dry off and get warm, Marathel. I don’t want you to get chilled again.”

Again? “Okay.”

“Do you need help getting dressed?”

“I’m all right.”

Din stepped out, but remained on the other side of the door, listening. It was a few minutes before he heard her moving about. He heard the rustle of towels, her sighing dejectedly, and some muttering that sounded like bloody things as he heard something sliding against her skin. He then heard a sharp intake of breath and a whispered ow ow ow. “All right in there?”

Inside, Marathel had pulled up the hated disposable underwear with one hand but couldn’t manage to get the gowns on. “My shoulder. I need some help after all.”

“May I come in?”

“Yes.”

Din opened the door and saw Marathel, back-to, wearing only what he assumed were some kind of hospital underwear and the clam pendant. Under the harsh light in the tiny room, all of her red and half-healed wounds on her back glowed like beacons. He shut his eyes for a moment, and then took a gown and held it in front of her, unsnapping the shoulder closure so she wouldn’t have to maneuver her arm in a weird position. Once on, he re-snapped the shoulder closure and tied the two ribbons in back. He then repeated the same action with the second gown, but as a robe. He took her by the elbows and led her to the bed, sitting her down. He found the fuzzy socks and dropped to one knee to put them on her feet. He stood back up, found her hairbrush, and carefully brushed her hair — it was much less tangled this time around — and braided it just as he had done before, using the hair band at the end.

Marathel, who had been silent this whole time, said, “You were the one who braided my hair before, weren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Marathel.” Din lifted Marathel from the edge of the bed and placed her in the center, spreading her blanket over her legs.

Marathel’s eyes fell on Grogu, still sitting in the chair, working his way through the box of fish nuggets. “Hello, my little Godynferth. I’ve missed you today. What are you eating?”

“Burra fish nuggets.” Din peered into the box. “Could’ve left a few for me, kid.”

Grogu cooed and Force-carried the one remaining fried nugget to Marathel. She plucked it from the air, saying, “Thank you, love.” She took a bite and said, “This is awful.”

“They’re better hot. Grogu likes them,” shrugged Din. He took the half-eaten nugget from Marathel, turned his back, lifted his helmet, and popped it into his mouth. Turning back, he said, “C’mon, you bottomless pit. Let’s wash those hands.” He picked up Grogu and took him to the sink.

Marathel felt her spirits lift slightly, reminded of those simple days on Unmanarall when they were a family. “Where did you go, anyway?”

“I went shopping.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I bought you some clothes.”

Marathel colored. “You didn’t have to do that. I had clothes in that bag.”

Din turned, drying Grogu’s hands. “They were soiled. And awful. They didn’t fit you.”

“Fennec bought those for me. And I liked the pockets on those pants. You didn’t have the right to get rid of them, Bounty Hunter,” snapped Marathel.

Din blinked. “I’m … I didn’t … I didn’t throw the blue clothes out, Marathel! In fact, they’re being laundered by the woman who helped me pick these new things out for you. I just wanted you to have something clean and comfortable to wear if they release you tomorrow.”

“If I get released? The doctors said I …”

“Ya-Bito and Siewan are worried you may have to go to another ward here in the hospital for at least another three days. A ward for people with broken minds … Like yours.”

Marathel sat up and folded her legs under her. “By myself?”

“Yes. Alone. I couldn’t … we couldn’t be there. And if you can’t show improvement over three days, you’re kept longer.”

“But they could help me.”

“They might be able to. Maybe find the right … medication, therapy …”

“Din,” said Marathel, looking straight into his visor. “Maybe you don’t need to stay. Maybe you shouldn’t take me with you.”

Din’s thoughts went back to the sight of the small punctures on her leg. Punctures in rows of four. As if they were … the times of a fork. His heart hitched in his chest, and he sat next to her on her bed. “You’re hurting yourself?”

“I don’t know how else to cope, Din. Ya-Bito said that place — the psych ward — is not a good place to be, but I’m wondering if it might not be a good idea. And I need the little bit of pain, Din, to direct the pain …”

Din reached out and cupped her cheek. “Ma’mwsh ha’laa. I know the pain. I’ve had that pain. But I cannot leave you behind again, even though I … you’re my …” Unable to complete his sentence, Din dropped his hand and shook his head.

Marathel said quietly, “Tell me what happened, what you experienced, after I ran away from you on Unmanarall.”

Din took a breath, and began, “I didn’t even know which way you’d gone. I had taken off my helmet; I didn’t have the monitors and sensors to find you. I was screaming for you. Then, Grogu came to me, telling me it was time to leave. I went up into the ship, and by the time I’d closed the door, I had forgotten you. I didn’t even remember what planet I was on. I was compelled to leave, go to Manda’lor.

“But I somehow remembered that I had forgotten something. You weren’t quite a memory, not quite gone. I found a loaf of your bread and I knew it was important. I caught your scent off one of the blankets and I could almost see your face. Grogu kept trying to tell me who you were, yelling Mama! And then I kept losing big chunks of time, as if I’d been sleeping for two-four hours, but still awake.

“And then Cobb sent a holo of you. It was during the hours that you spent baking bread, but he’d made changes to it.” He looked through his holopad, bringing up the doctored holo.

“He was making a recording of me,” said Marathel. “I don’t understand what you mean, though.”

“Look closely at your image. He took off your face-wound and given your teeth back.” Marathel, even though she knew better, reached up and touched her forehead to see if it was miraculously healed. “He’d never seen you without your injuries. He said … he wanted to see who I had fallen in love with.” Marathel looked back into his visor, holding her breath. “He also said that if I had left you behind, that he would never forgive me.

“Seeing your face, how I remembered it, how I still see you … I finally remembered you. I couldn’t believe I had forgotten you, how I felt about you, how much I loved you. I knew I had to turn around, come back and find you.

“And then, it was as if I had been shot through with ice. I couldn’t breathe, and I was terrified I would forget you again, but it turned out even worse. I forgot that I loved you. I was calling you ner kar’ta just moments before, and then I had no more feelings for you than I would a stranger. Marathel, I don’t know what happened. Even Grogu felt it. Do you know why that was? I think you do know. Please, Marathel …”

“I will, Din, soon, I promise. Just tell me the rest first.”

“I was still trying to wrap my head around what had just happened, then I was instantly on fire. Not just the bite mark, but my entire left side. I was in agony. I fell to the floor, sure that I was having a heart attack.”

Marathel, who had just resigned herself to the loss of Din’s love, was suddenly confused. “A what?”

“A heart attack, cardiac arrest. My heart was beating erratically, and then stopped altogether. I fell unconscious, scaring Grogu half to death, probably. I managed to call for help, and Captain Teva boarded my ship to provide medical help. The medic told me I’d shown all the symptoms of a heart attack and a stroke, but without throwing the blood clots that would cause those … That must have been when Rodanthe died.”

“You fainted?”

“Well … yes,” said Din, suddenly uncomfortable. “I mean, you’ve told me that the pain you experience when you lose a Dahl is immeasurable …”

Marathel was still dubious. Yes, the death of a Dahl was painful indeed, like being sliced by a dull knife covered in salt, but … “I’ve never fainted.”

Din tilted his helmet, wondering if Marathel was taking the piss. “It might have been worse, since it was Rodanthe.”

“Perhaps it was just wai wchlas.”

“I beg your pardon?” asked Din.

“Wai wchlas. That’s what we called it when the men would get sick.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Man flu.”

“Excuse me?”

Someone knocked on the door. Marathel called, “Come in.”

Siewan entered, carrying a tray. “Hello, Marathel. I have your dinner. I’m sure you don’t feel hungry but try to eat anyway. You need calories to heal. Right now, all calories are good calories. Okay?”

Marathel nodded but didn’t look up. “Okay.”

Sensing that she had interrupted an important conversation, Siewan said, “I’ll leave you now. Buzz if you need anything.” She left.

Marathel pulled the rolling table towards her, and sat up, folding her legs under her (criss-cross-berrysauce, she sang in her head) and lifting the cover from her dinner tray. Some sort of meat and vegetables in sauce over mashed tubers. A thick slice of toasted bread. A cup of tea. Another container of ice cream. “That all looks halfway decent,” remarked Din.

“Siewan was right. I’m truly not hungry. You should eat it, since Grogu ate your portion too, apparently.”

“No, Marathel. I’m fine. You need to eat.”

Marathel shrugged, and methodically began to eat, tearing the bread into quarters, working her way slowly across the entrée, not tasting it. Din watched her hands, realizing he’d rarely watched her eat. She ate in complete silence, staring at the wall before her, looking at nothing. The quiet made Din uncomfortable, so he got up and found the shopping bag with the pillow frog.

“Hey buddy, I got something for you today, too.” Grogu bleated, and then cooed when Din put the pillow frog in his little hands. “You like it? Thought you might. You’ve been something else, lately … I just thought you might like something soft to crash on.” As Din sat back down, he noticed Marathel gazing at Grogu with a little smile.

“What a wonderful thing,” said Marathel. “Is your new friend going to have a name?”

“Fawg!”

“Fawg, of course. That will be easy to remember.” Her smile faded, and she went back to her dinner in silence. The ice cream was pink this time, and tasted like sweet berries, which she liked better than the plain stuff. She finished her tea. She then lifted her fork, showing it to Din. He nodded, and she made a show of placing it on her tray, then pushing the rolling tray away from her. She sighed deeply, and then turned her head to look at Grogu, who would alternately hug the pillow frog, then pat its plush face, quietly saying Fawg Fawg Fawg. “I had a friend like Fawg once. Tymfy made her for me. She was small, made out of old grey rags she’d sewn together. She was a lumpy thing. Probably stuffed with more old grey rags. Shaped like a lump, too. No arms or legs, no face, but I loved her. I remember the day Tymfy gave her to me. It was a terrible day. The Bishop had done something horrible to me for the first time, and I couldn’t stop crying.”

“Did your friend have a name?” asked Din quietly.

“I called her Fi’Basha. That means ‘little me.’ I kept her hidden, because if the boys knew I had her, they’d take her away from me. Tear her up. But then, Tymfy had her first baby. We were changing at the same time, but of course, I wasn’t getting regular, so … Tymfy had a little girl, so I gave Fi’Basha to the baby. If it’d been a boy, I would’ve kept her. A boy got enough attention. Didn’t need a Fi’Basha.

“Then Olba took me out of the Hold and brought me to the hut. I was so scared and lonely there at first. In the beginning, Olba would come over more often. Even the Cyiloggs coming after me was a distraction. But they stopped trying to take me back. In the courtyard, before I ... the Bishop finally told me why that was. It was the Dahls. They would attack and kill anything male that came near me. They were protecting me from the men of the Hold. And Olba stopped coming out so much. She was probably getting beaten for it, going out to see me but not bringing me back, not coming back to the Hold like a good girl should. But I was so alone, so I made a new Fi’Basha out of the scraps of fabric Olba brought me. She was as big as Grogu, and she had arms and a head and a body. I called her Tym’Basha.”

“‘Little Tymfy,’” said Din. Marathel nodded. “Why didn’t she have any legs? Did you run out of fabric?”

Marathel shook her head. “I made myself believe that if she didn’t have legs, no one could hurt her there. Such a stupid thought.” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “By this time, I’d made a drop spindle and my loom. I spun brown yarn for her hair, and I put brown eyes on her, from tree nut shells. I wove my own fabric and sewed little dresses for her. I loved Tymfy, so I wanted Tym’Basha to look like her.

“But then … Olba said it was silly for me to have Tym’Basha. I was a full-grown woman, regular or not, and no full-grown woman needed such a childish thing. So … I took her apart. Took her apart right back down to all the scraps I’d sewn together. Then, I took the pile of scraps to the cliff and threw them off the edge. I went back to the hut, and I folded the little dresses and shoved them to the bottom of a basket.

“Then … however long it was after that … you and Grogu showed up. The Dahls left you alone and allowed you to come to me. They killed every other male, but they left you alone. And when I saw that little pitiful rumpled pile of clothes you had for Grogu, I remembered those little dresses. I found the dresses and cut them shorter to make those little shirts for Grogu. I made the jump-ups from whole cloth I had, but the shirts, I made from the dresses. I saw no point in keeping them in the basket if they would fit Grogu. And I knew I was going to die anyway, and I loved Grogu, just like I loved Tym’Basha, and …”

Marathel’s throat closed, and she could no longer speak. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she stared at her blanket. Grogu jumped from Din’s lap to the bed, holding up his new pillow Fawg to Marathel. Marathel timidly took the pillow frog and hugged it tightly while she cried.

Din stood up and removed his pauldrons, his cuirass, his rerebraces, and his vambraces before climbing into the bed with her. He drew her back against him, holding her tightly against his chest as he lay back on her pillow. Grogu climbed up on Din and held on to Marathel’s thumb, both holding her while she wept until she fell asleep against Din’s shoulder, clutching pillow Fawg. After a while, both Din and Grogu, both so sad for Marathel, dozed off too. Sometime later, Siewan quietly came into the room to collect the tray. Smiling at the sleeping trio, she took the tray, turned off the lights, and left, locking the door behind her.

Future Days: Coming Soon

#din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian angst #mando angst #din djarin angst #star wars fanfiction #starwarsficnetwork #pedrostories #din x plus size fem oc #mando x plus size oc #reverse age gap #plus size oc #i will finish this

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starsandgutters · 9 days ago

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Spooky Fics Round 2

Did not make it anywhere near 31 lmaooo but an attempt was made

Round 1

Time Can Do So Much | T | 12k words | Ghost AU

“Well, that explains it, doesn’t it? They messed up, must have booked all their rooms out already, and so they put you in the haunted dorm.” “It’s not haunted,” Kevin says flatly. “Hellooooo. Mr Ghost, are you there?” “If it was a kid that went to the school, I doubt his name was Mr Ghost.” “Can you imagine. What a coincidence.” The door creaks. They both look towards it, but it is still under their joined gazes. “Just the wind,” Jeremy says. “I didn’t think it was a ghost anyway,” Kevin says. “Ghosts aren’t real.”

2. Time of the Month | E | 7.1k words | Werewolf AU

“You are so beautiful,” Kevin murmurs near his ear. “Look at how thick and gorgeous your fur is. And your paw is nearly the size of my head. You could kill me.” Aaron whines in protest. “I know you won’t, but you could. It’s incredible that you don’t. You’re amazing, Aaron.”

3. Blood On My Hands (Like the Blood in You) | M | 12.8k words | Carrie AU

“You’re the devil,” Tilda hisses through her compressed throat. “If your version of god is the one that exists, then I would rather be the devil.” Aaron pulls her forward and slams her back against the wall as she slowly walks through the doorway into the living room. The crosses hanging in the room rattle. There are a lot of them. There’s a particularly large one over the fireplace, the bottom of it sharpened into a point. Aaron could draw it off the hook, turn it so that point is facing Tilda’s chest, and drive it home. There would be a poetic justice to that, she thinks.

4. The Arts and That Other Stuff | T | 6.5k words | Kinda Love verse

“We should do things for Halloween.” “I think we’re going to Eden’s.” “I know. I don’t mean like a big thing for actual Halloween. I mean we, just us, should do things leading up to it.” “What got you thinking this?” Aaron noses at Kevin’s jaw until he tilts his head, leaves space for Aaron to burrow into the curve of his neck. “You like Halloween.” “Yeah?” “So we should do things for it. I don’t really need much more motivation than making you happy.” “Sap.” Aaron nips at Kevin’s neck. “Okay, vampire.” “I vant to suck your blood,” Aaron sleepily murmurs in a terrible Dracula impression, though not as bad as Kevin’s when he tries to mimic him back. “I vant to suck your dick.”

5. O Knight On Rusty Bicycle | E | 22.3k words | Zombie Apocalypse & Omegaverse AU

“We’re not keeping him. Our supplies are stretched thin enough as it is.” “You kept Neil.” “That’s different.” “Heh. Right. Yeah. Because he batted his big blue eyes at you and you couldn’t say no.” “No, because Neil is a beta. He does not draw attention to us, and his presentation is useful in a lot of scenarios. He does not flag the same attention we do, can navigate situations without pheromones flaring.” “Yeah, just running his mouth we have to worry about.”

6. You Are The Girl That I've Been Dreaming Of (Ever Since I Was A Little Girl) | E | 8.1k words | Jennifer's Body AU

“You’re killing people.” “I'm killing boys, Aaron.” “What the fuck? That doesn’t make it okay. Jean’s a boy. Does that mean you’re going to kill him?” “Obviously not. Only boys who deserve it.” “Mario didn’t do anything!” “He made you sad.”

7. I'd Be Anywhere That You Are | E | 8.1k words | Kinda Love verse

“Sorry this isn’t the most exciting Halloween,” Aaron says, stifling a yawn against Kevin’s arm. It’s not always easy to plan things around their work schedules - see the forever delayed wedding - and Aaron knew he would be tired from his early shift. “I don’t care. Halloween’s your favourite holiday, not mine. I’m sorry yours wasn’t exciting.” “This is good.” They’ve done lots of things for Halloween before. They’ve done the party, ghost tours, haunted houses, and fancy dress nights out. Maybe Aaron is getting old, but he does appreciate a quiet night at home with Kevin. Sometimes their schedules mean that even though they live together, they just pass each other at the door. Only an hour or so overlap here or there, or Aaron forgoing sleep to see Kevin when he’s working nights. (Kevin would probably make this sacrifice if he were capable of not absolutely passing out on the couch while waiting.) Even when their schedules do align, they’re often exhausted from work, and do little more than make dinner and clean up before they’re ready for bed. “This is good.” Kevin dots kisses down Aaron’s cheek.

#kevaaron #fox fics #kinda love

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indybob · 4 months ago

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So due to work and life and dealing with that stress and trying to be an active member of this fandom that I adore, I sadly have to delay Chapter 8 of Maybe We Were Always Meant To Be by a week from July 10 to July 17 :(

I’m so sorry to the consistent readers who will be disappointed by this, but I already had to take an extension on my exchange fic, and I’m trying not to take on too much at once. If it’s any consolation, Chapter 8 will be nearly 12k words😄

#hangster #sereshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #hangster fanfiction #my fanfic writing #my writing

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theharrowing · 2 years ago

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Collateral 🗡️ 10: We know everything, dove

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon 🗡️ word count: 12k 🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit, 21+ 🗡️ warnings: daddy kink, fingering & oral sex, squirting, graphic depictions of violence with blood, vomiting, character injury

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin!

🗡️ posted sept. 2022 | read on ao3

Steam fogs up the ensuite quickly as Yoongi's large tub fills with hot water. Yoongi's bathroom is, quite frankly, ridiculous. Everything is black marble with gold accents and light wood cabinet doors. Along one wall is a sink with two large vessel bowls and a large mirror.

Past the sink and a modest toilet is a shower that is nearly a room of its own, with glass walls and doors, several ceiling-mounted shower heads, and tile shelves along one wall. On the other side is a spacious cabinet across from the sink, and near the shower is a square, black jacuzzi tub, which is large enough to fit four or five people.

Jimin sits on the closed lid of the toilet seat while you dig through Yoongi's cabinets, sighing at the lack of bath-related items. While a glittery bath bomb may not be the best idea for a tub with jets, you had hoped for a nice scented bubble bath to act as aromatherapy to ease Jimin's nerves.

"I'm going to run to my bathroom quickly, okay?" you ask, and Jimin nods, though his eyes stay glued to a fixed point ahead.

You move quickly, scurrying from Yoongi's room to yours. The mansion feels eerie with everyone gone or asleep and with most of the lights dimmed, so you opt not to linger and find out if it happens to be haunted as you run through your room to grab a bottle of eucalyptus-scented bubble bath from your bathroom shelf and run back.

When you return—slightly winded from your excursion—Jimin is still seated on the toilet, and you hold the bottle toward him. "Is this okay?" you ask, squeezing the open bottle enough to emit a burst of scented air. Jimin nods and cracks a smile.

You turn back to the tub, which is nearly full, and squeeze a single drop of liquid into the water stream. There is a marble platform beside the tub on which you set the bottle, then you shut off the faucet and switch on the jets.

"Is this too much?" you ask, and Jimin purses his split lips and moves them side to side in thought, then shrugs.

"Seems fine," he mutters. "We can always turn it off."

You smile wide. "He speaks."

Jimin chuckles and shakes his head. There is a sadness in his eyes, but at least he is attempting a smile. "Yeah, sorry. I get really in my head sometimes."

"Understandable."

"I, uh...this might be weird," Jimin says, tugging at the edge of his pastel pink fuzzy robe. He nibbles on his bottom lip, wincing when his teeth graze over a fresh wound. "Would you...can you join me?"

"In the tub?" you blurt out, unsure what he means.

Jimin looks timid, shoulders hunched and unsure. He shakes his head.

"Forget it. I'm sorry, I can't ask that of you."

"Of course I'll join you," you respond in a tone much softer. Jimin stares ahead and makes no indication that he has heard you, and you turn to the cabinet to find towels. "I'll give you some privacy, and when you're ready—"

Jimin stands slowly and unties the cord around his waist. Beneath the pink robe are tight black briefs, and you avert your gaze and busy yourself by grabbing two towels to place on the marble ledge beside the tub. Jimin enters the tub and slowly sits, hissing as he sinks into the warm water.

Unsure how to approach the situation, you shift on your feet nervously. Jimin is in his underwear, so it would not be weird for you to join him. You do not have a bra or bathing suit nearby, but you suppose it would be fine to get into the tub wearing Yoongi's shirt. It is not as if he doesn't own several, and you do not really want to make another excursion back to your room.

Slowly and carefully, you tug down the joggers you stole from Yoongi, making sure the shirt continues to give you as much coverage as possible and that your underwear stays around your hips. Not that Jimin is watching—his eyes are on his hands as he gathers bubbles and gently blows them away. And it would not be the end of the world if he did happen to see something because, if you are being honest, you feel pretty comfortable with him—and you are still fairly certain he watched Yoongi fuck you at the casino, anyway. More than anything, you are concerned with making him uncomfortable since he is already in a vulnerable state.

When you approach the tub, Jimin's eyes lift, and he smiles softly. Around him, the bubbles are practically to his shoulders—several inches above the water, and you begin to worry maybe even a drop of your bubble bath was too much for a tub with jets.

You step in with your right foot, hissing from the sudden warmth that you quickly acclimate to, and extend your leg out past the inner ledge meant for sitting. Jimin sits facing the shower, and he smiles and rests his head back, closing his eyes as if your company is helping to calm him.

Once you have your balance, holding onto the edge of the tub, you bring your left foot in and slowly sink down into the water, twisting to sit beside Jimin. As soon as your butt hits the seat, you realize the bubbles are up to your chin.

"Uh, I think I added too much of the bubble bath," you say nervously.

Jimin opens one eye in time for a sudsy peak to wiggle directly into your lips, and you spit and attempt to wipe your mouth off with your hand, absent-mindedly smearing more bubbles onto your face. Giggles echo around the room, and although you curse under your breath, feeling foolish, his happiness makes you smile—relieved to see some of his anguish melt away.

You stand and reach for a switch near the faucet to shut off the jets, then settle back down and stare in awe at the large layer of suds. With a cartoonish sound, you karate chop through a large mass of it with your hands, and Jimin's giggles turn into full-blown laughter.

"Imagine Yoongi returning, and his entire bathroom is a giant pile of bubbles," Jimin wheezes, eyes brimming with tears.

"And he finds us trapped in the tub calling for help," you respond through a chuckle.

You distract yourself by playing with the bubbles in your hands for a little while longer, blowing them gently around the tub, and smiling. Jimin's laughter has died down, and you look over, finding his eyes zeroed in on a spot before him, lost in thought. He must sense you watching, and he looks up with a soft smile.

"Thank you for being here for me, dove," Jimin mutters.

He lifts an arm and beckons you toward him with a bubble-covered hand, and you slide along the seat and into his grasp. Then, Jimin gently rests his arm behind you, giving your shoulder a squeeze, and you lean to the side and rest your head on his shoulder, seeing nothing but bubbles ahead.

"I'll always be here for you, Jimin," you respond, and you are certain that you mean it.

Though you and Jimin have not gotten close, you feel a strong desire to protect him. Perhaps it comes from your past experiences dealing with seedy people or because you are desperate to have a friend; the specifics are not important, and you would rather not dwell on it.

"And you don't ever have to tell me what happened," you continue, "but I'm here if you need someone to talk to, okay?"

Jimin hums and rests his head against your head, and you feel relaxed and calm as you close your eyes to take a deep breath in and out. It feels nice to be this close to him, having—as far as you can tell—nothing but friendly intentions, and you enjoy this serene slice of sudsy heaven that has been carved out for just the two of you.

"I do have so many questions for you, but now is probably not the time," Jimin mutters after a long moment of silence, in a dreamy voice.

"Questions? About what?" you ask genuinely.

Jimin scoffs. "Oh, please, honey. As if we all didn't notice you and Namjoon wearing Yoongi's clothing."

Ah, right. That.

"And Yoongi in a silk robe," Jimin continues with a giggle. "You kids were up to something. You must have had a great time on your date with Namjoon, hmm?"

"Uh, y-yeah," you respond, feeling shy. "I guess you could say we had fun."

Jimin sits up, and you do the same. The water is quite warm, making your flushed cheeks feel even hotter, and you scoot your butt to the edge of the seat and rest your head against the lip of the tub, creating a wall of suds around your face.

"What did you and Namjoon do?" Jimin asks as he shifts in a similar way and disappears behind the bubbles.

"Well, first we went to a warehouse to try to get some guys to confess to why a bunch of pills have gone missing," you begin, recalling the way the bones in the man's knee cracked loudly on impact with the baton. Your next words come out behind a shaken, uncomfortable laugh. "That was probably my least favorite part of the day."

Jimin scoffs and says, "I could imagine. Did any information come out of them?" Then, he quickly adds, "Actually, scratch that; I can talk to the guys about it. We don't need you rehashing trauma while in the tub."

You shrug and lift your hands out of the water, absent-mindedly playing with bubbles. "One of the guys said someone who goes by the name Jae had something to do with the missing drugs and that Jeongguk hired him."

Jimin hums. "Well, Jeongguk is the point man for anything related to drug manufacturing, dealing, and so on, so he hires everyone. That is not exactly a juicy detail."

"I figured," you respond.

"But hopefully he will know what Jae person they're talking about."

You hum in agreement. There is not much more to say about that, and the details of the torture flash unpleasantly in your mind, so you opt to change the topic.

"After that, we went to a boutique to change, since we smelled like that bloody, pissy warehouse, and then we got ice cream, I had an existential crisis, and Namjoon took me to an art museum where he talked at me for no less than an hour."

Jimin giggles beside you, and you can't help but smile back. "Existential crisis, huh?"

You clear your throat. "Yeah. I've been in my feelings a lot, and doing my best to adjust to everything, but...it's hard."

"Understandable. How do you like living here?"

With a sigh, you say, "Beats living on the streets. Or dealing with my idiot ex. Admittedly, I could have broken things off with him at any time, but...I guess hating someone still felt like a better alternative to being alone. So far, most of the people here are nice to me, and I am beginning to feel like maybe I fit in."

"And now you're engaged to a kingpin,” Jimin teases, “and you and his right-hand man are going on museum dates."

Anxiety pools in your tummy as you mutter, "Oh, god, I forgot about the engagement."

Jimin laughs loudly, splashing around a bit, and it forces you to crack a smile, but you still feel a bit unsettled by that entire thing. Despite the engagement being staged, there will be times when you have to put on the act of it being real, and that makes you nervous. You opt, once more, to change the subject.

"What is up with Yoongi and Namjoon," you ask, half expecting Jimin not to respond directly.

When you get no immediate response, you sit up while considering all of the other things you could discuss with Jimin instead, but then he clears his throat and says, "They have a long history."

"Oh?"

Jimin hums and also sits up. His face is rosy pink, and he has a soft smile tugging at his lips. "Everyone talks about childhood best friends Yoongi and Ryujin, how they grew up together, and that when they fell in love, it was expected. But for those of us who knew them back then, it wasn't Yoongi and Ryujin; it was Yoongi and Namjoon."

"Oh."

"Ryujin was more or less a means to an end, you know? Marry the crime families together to maximize control. And don't get me wrong, there was a time when we all believed Yoongi really loved her, but...she was no Namjoon."

“After we met her at the club, Hoseok said she was the love of Yoongi’s life.”

Jimin laughs as he says, “Hoseok tends to have his own version of the truth at times.”

You are unsure what to do with this information, and the anxiety grows. What if you are also simply a means to an end, and Yoongi will never love you the way he loves Namjoon? What if you do not even want Yoongi to love you the way that he loves Namjoon? You tell yourself that you adore Namjoon and that you could share Yoongi's affection if you had to, if you ever came to feel that way too, but is that the truth? Everything feels overwhelming.

"I have questions," you find yourself muttering. Jimin hums, allowing you to continue. "Does Yoongi have to keep Namjoon a secret? Like...is it an issue for them to be out as gay and in charge of the mafia family?"

Jimin hums again, a long pensive sound, and it makes you uneasy.

"I'm not entirely sure. Maybe some of the older cats in the other families would take offense to it, but honestly, I don't think it would matter."

"I guess I just..." you sigh, unsure if you should even voice what plagues you. Jimin feels like a safe person to talk to, but on the other hand, you do not really know him all that well. If he happened to betray you, it probably would not come as a huge surprise to you.

"You want to know what you're doing here?" Jimin suggests.

"Yeah," you respond meekly.

"This is probably a conversation to have with Yoongi, but I can say with certainty that he does want you here. You are not simply a strategic move to strengthen the families. For one, you have no family."

You scoff and respond, "True."

"You were chosen in part because of your background, though. Had it not been for the blood on your hands, Yoongi would not have brought you into this house. Anyone who joins this family has to have a body count."

Anxiety turns to nausea, and you find yourself sinking back into the tub as cold steel, tan skin, and pooled blood flash through your mind.

"I only killed one man," you mutter.

"You rallied the others to do the same, dove; do not forget that. An underground prostitution circuit unraveled because you had the courage to lead and the others followed. Some of the most disgusting men to roam Seoul in our lifetime are dead, all thanks to you. And businesses like mine are able to thrive because businessmen come fuck willing whores rather than going through seedy means to find people who want nothing to do with the lifestyle."

"How do you know about that?" you ask softly, staring ahead at the prominent yet slowly diminishing hill of bubbles.

An arm wraps around your shoulder, warm and inviting and pulling you from your daze. You lean into the feeling, resting your cheek against Jimin's chest.

"We know everything, dove."

Voices begin to echo from downstairs, filling the silent, once empty space. You begin to sit up, but Jimin holds you firmly in place and hums in dissent, so you give up and continue to rest in his arms. After the day you have had, the comfort is welcoming.

"Darling?" Yoongi's voice calls. It sounds like he may be walking up the stairs.

"In here!" you shout back, and Jimin finally releases his tight hold, allowing you to straighten out and sit up with his arm still slung over your shoulder.

The smell of blood hits you suddenly, feeling stifling in the steamy room, and you turn your head in time to find Yoongi entering in his black silk robe covered in large wet spots. Yoongi's hair sticks to the side of his head, and blood stains his face and neck. He smiles widely as if nothing is amiss.

"Oh, good, I was hoping you two were still up," Yoongi says as he walks through the room.

You have to breathe only through your mouth, thankful that the rusty smell of death does not seep further into your senses, and you do your best to smile in return as you watch Yoongi undo the silk cord around his waist. Without so much as a word, Yoongi shrugs out of the robe, dropping it to the floor, and approaches his shower in the nude. Jimin wolf-whistles, and Yoongi looks over his shoulder with a playful wink.

"How are you doing, Jimin?" Yoongi asks, stepping into his shower.

Jimin sighs and sinks down into the bubbles, resting his head on your shoulder. "Feeling better."

"Good. We took care of your problem, but he may have just been a messenger so we are going to need you to lay low for a while until we sort everything out."

The shower turns on, and Jimin mutters, "I was afraid he would say that," in a small, despondent voice.

More steam fills the room, and you begin to feel lightheaded from sitting in the hot bath. Jimin must feel the same, and he sighs heavily as he sits up and says, "I'm getting tired. I might head home."

"Nonsense," Yoongi says. "Grab a change of my clothes and stay here."

You wrap an arm around Jimin and give his shoulder a squeeze, offering for him to take your room, and Jimin does not protest, for which you are glad.

With a nod, he mutters, "Okay," and then gives you a kiss on the temple.

Water sloshes as Jimin gets out. You flip the tub drain, contemplating whether to also change and go to sleep or to join your bloody kingpin for a rinse.

"I'm coming in," Jimin announces as he enters the shower, past the glass door that Yoongi has left wide open. "Our dove tried to suffocate me with bubbles, and now I am covered in them."

You giggle and stand, wringing water out of Yoongi's shirt before exiting the tub. The floor is wet, and you grab a towel, place it down, and then step onto it.

A glance in the direction of the shower has you flustered as Yoongi and Jimin stand close to one another, slathered in soap—one fully nude and the other in very small briefs. It would almost be sexy if the water at their feet did not run red with blood.

"Darling," Yoongi calls, pulling your attention to find him smirking. "Come, rinse off."

You hesitate, then walk toward the shower, hair and shirt dripping. From the right, the sound of heavy panting pulls your attention, and you turn to find Namjoon standing in the doorway, sweating with blood and dirt smeared on his face and neck.

"Party in the bathroom," Namjoon announces with a smile, dimples appearing, somehow making him look even more grisly.

Namjoon approaches, pulls his shirt off, and tosses it onto Yoongi's discarded robe as he mutters, "Hey, sweetheart," with a smile.

Warmth floods to your cheeks, and Namjoon begins to remove his pants as he asks, "How are you feeling, Jimin?" and you avert your gaze and stare at the floor.

"Feeling better," Jimin responds with a sigh. "But still shaken. Thanks for taking care of him."

Namjoon enters the shower, and you try not to openly gawk at his ass and thighs, but damn, he looks good. Golden skin, thick and muscular with a bit of a jiggle—you are undoubtedly going to fantasize about this later.

Jimin seems unfazed to be sharing the shower with Yoongi and Namjoon, both of whom are nude. You remember what he said about knowing them for a long time and wonder what kind of a history they all share and whether they share much of that history with any of the others. Jimin wipes away dirt and blood from Namjoon's face, muttering something with a smile, and you consider going to your room to rinse off instead, but Yoongi's voice pulls your attention.

"Something the matter, darling?"

You shake your head and give Yoongi a soft smile, delighting in the way his face brightens. Yoongi mutters something to Jimin, who nods and begins to exit the shower, and you go over to the cabinet to grab three more towels, handing one to Jimin.

While Jimin dries off, Yoongi takes over the duty of helping Namjoon get any of the blood and dirt that he may have missed, giving him a once-over with his fingertips delicately touching and moving Namjoon's face while Namjoon bends a little to be at his eye-level. You glance at Jimin, who dramatically rolls his eyes and pretends to gag, making the two of you giggle.

Keeping your eyes off of their flaccid dicks is a task that you find incredibly difficult. But now does not seem like the time, and you do not want to stir up any feelings that you will be unable to deal with, so you keep your focus on everyone's faces.

As you turn toward the shower, Yoongi reaches out and asks, "One of those for me?"

"Oh," you say, confused by Yoongi exiting the shower suddenly, and you give him one of the two towels in your hand, muttering, "Of course."

"I need to speak with Jimin," Yoongi says softly, drying off his hair, and your gaze falls down over his body before you correct yourself and look back up to his pretty, pinkened cheeks. "It may take a while, so why don't you rinse off? You and Joonie can finish what we started before we were interrupted."

Yoongi's words take a moment to settle, and all you say is, "Wh-what?"

"Joonie, baby," Yoongi calls over his shoulder as he pats his torso dry, to which Namjoon responds, "Yes, dear?"

"Take care of our girl while I chat with Jimin? She still needs to cum."

"Yes, boss," Namjoon responds.

Your breath hitches and you search Yoongi's face for any hint of playfulness, but he looks stone serious, save for a crooked little grin. Yoongi wraps the towel around his hips and gives you a kiss on the forehead, muttering, "Enjoy your shower, darling," as he leaves.

It takes a moment for you to move. Of course, you want to shower with Namjoon—to finally see and touch Namjoon's body—but it feels a little wrong doing so without Yoongi around, and you worry, once more, that this is some kind of test.

"Hey," Namjoon says sweetly, and you look up to find his face sticking out from around the foggy shower wall. He smiles softly, and you instantly feel calm.

"Hey," you mutter back, holding the remaining towel tightly in your grasp.

"We don't have to do anything if you're not ready," Namjoon assures you. "But you should come rinse off, if you want to. I can turn away."

You chuckle, feeling a bit more loosened up, and you approach the tub to set the towel that you hold on top of the other on the ledge.

"You've already seen me almost naked," you mumble, feeling shy as the words come out of your mouth.

"True," Namjoon responds, and you turn in time to watch his eyes seemingly sparkle at the thought, "but it's different when we're not in the throes of passion. I can give you some privacy."

Why is it that Namjoon being considerate is what turns you on? You feel warm and fuzzy with a sudden need to be looked at and touched, and you grab the bottom hem of Yoongi's shirt and pull it over your head. Namjoon's mouth falls open as you fling the garment in the direction of his and Yoongi's discarded clothing, and you step closer to the shower while hooking your thumbs under the waistline of your black panties, noticing as his eyes follow the movement.

"Seems to me like daddy can't take his eyes off me," you tease, feeling more and more confident under Namjoon's gaze.

The nickname makes Namjoon's eyes widen and his mouth pulls into a grin. "How could I? You're gorgeous, baby."

Warmth rises up your neck to your cheeks, and you find yourself alternating between shy and confident. On one hand, Namjoon is naked, in the shower, and Yoongi has given him permission to make you cum—whatever that entails. But on the other hand, you are exhausted, and it would be really great to rinse off and crawl into bed.

Namjoon cocks his head and nibbles on his lip. He must have noticed you spacing out and changes his tone.

"At least rinse off. You look as tired as I feel."

So, it is settled. Namjoon ducks his head back into the shower, and you take the opportunity to slide off your panties, stepping out of them with less enthusiasm than you had when you tossed off the shirt. Then, you make your way to the warm shower and step into the open door.

Namjoon stands under one of the streams of water, rinsing off his face, and you finally take the opportunity to gawk at his body. All the most renowned sculptors of ancient Greece could capture Namjoon's likeness, and they would still fail to do him justice.

Peaks and valleys of muscle and skin make up Namjoon's form, and you find yourself wanting to trace your fingers over his topography. Not to mention his cock, which hangs heavy and long between his legs—you imagine what it would look like erect and feel a shiver run down your spine.

"Like what you see, sweetheart?"

You are broken from your trance and gasp as Namjoon turns and approaches, towering over you with a smile. All you can say in response is a weak, "Uh-huh," as you take several steps backward, out from under the water, until your calves bump into a tile shelf along the shower wall. Namjoon's cheeks break out into dimples as you shiver from suddenly being wet and nude in the open air.

"What kind of scents do you like?" Namjoon asks, reaching past you to the shelf just behind you. You allow Namjoon to crowd your space, only moving slightly so that he can reach the bottles.

"Nothing too sweet. Citrus or something bright and floral."

Namjoon hums, grazing your shoulder with his chest, then straightens out and brings a rag to your shoulders. His skin has a musky scent that you recognize from Yoongi, and you breathe deeply.

You have no choice but to stare at Namjoon's chest and neck as he lathers you up with a soap that has inviting, citrus notes—another scent you recognize from being close to Yoongi. From this distance, you can count the individual scales on his black dragon tattoo that snakes from Namjoon's pec to his belly, and you feel the urge to trace your fingers along its body.

You tilt your head to smile at Namjoon, and he smiles back—soft and warm and sweet. Namjoon seems to be enjoying dragging the washcloth down to your palms and fingertips until it tickles and makes you squirm, and you watch dimples crease and disappear.

"Now for your torso and legs," Namjoon says, deep and soft and thick like honey. "Stand nice and still for me, okay?"

"Oh-okay," you mumble in response as if Namjoon's proximity—his soft, warm skin—has you in a trance.

There is something so intimate in the way in which Namjoon washes you—gently placing a finger under your chin to tilt your head up and clean your neck and collar, down to your breasts and tummy, pulling your hair away to wash your neck, then lower to your back. Namjoon gets down on his knees to wash your legs, gently lifts your feet, and is delicate with your backside.

It feels nice but also strange, and you hug your arms tight around your torso as Namjoon finishes and stands before you. Yes, Yoongi has urged you to kiss and touch Namjoon, and has given him permission to get you off, but is this what he wishes for? Intimacy and delicacy? Would this upset him?

Namjoon takes you gently by the shoulders and tugs you under one of the streams of water. You loosen your grip around your ribs as you tilt your head back and close your eyes, letting the water rinse from your neck, down. Instinctively, you reach up and grab onto Namjoon for stability, and he takes a step closer, crowding your space as your breasts press into his skin.

Once you are rinsed, Namjoon steps away, and you feel your body sway, searching for him. You open your eyes, feeling heaviness tugging at your lids, and you blink away stray water drops as you glance over your shoulder and watch Namjoon squirt clear gel onto an exfoliating towel, which he begins to clean himself with.

As you turn away from Namjoon and continue to stand beneath a warm stream of water, you tell yourself that you have no reason to worry—that Yoongi sent the two of you on a date, and left you in the shower, knowing the kind of man Namjoon is. Yoongi, who has loved Namjoon for so long, should not be surprised to discover Namjoon is gentle and handles you with care. But what if he is?

Two warm, large hands gently touch your shoulders, and you gasp and lean back into the touch. Sleep is claiming every part of you, your poor fingertips have turned to prunes, and you want to dry off and lay down. Namjoon leans into your back, pressing his body flush against yours, and every inch of your skin breaks into goosebumps as his face lowers and he speaks into your ear.

"Shall we go to bed, sweetheart?"

Sweetheart, not baby. And honestly, you are relieved. The long day of physical and mental exertion is beginning to catch up to you quickly, and all you want is to curl into Yoongi's sheets and drift away to sleep.

You nod and lean back into Namjoon, and he rubs his hands down to your elbows, then wraps his arms around you in a gentle but firm hug. When Namjoon releases you, you turn and make your way to the exit, stepping onto the towel that you left on the floor. The entire bathroom is a cloud of steam, and you grab a towel from the tub and begin to dry from the feet, up.

Namjoon takes the last towel and dries himself off, and you wrap yours around your torso temporarily as you make your way to the sink to brush your teeth. Namjoon is close behind, and you should not be surprised to discover that when he opens a drawer and grabs a new toothbrush from a pack, he knows where spares are kept, but your eyes follow along with wonder.

Your movements are slow, and Namjoon finishes before you do, spitting and gargling in the sink beside yours. Namjoon sets his toothbrush into the empty spot where yours goes—with room for yours, still—and then he turns to the tall cabinet and begins to rummage through it before producing a small bottle and squirting some clear oil into his hands, which he blots onto his face and then hands to you. Namjoon was already kind enough to wash your body and now he is presenting you with an oil for your face, that you never would have known was there.

And you get it. You understand why Yoongi loves Namjoon so much.

Namjoon leaves a soft kiss on your shoulder before he exits the bathroom. Your toothbrush has been lodged into your cheek since the moment he set the little bottle of oil on the sink, and you pull it out and spit into the basin, gargling water and rinsing the toothbrush to slide it into the rectangular holder beside his.

You stare at the toothbrushes for a beat. Is this the way things are, now? You and Namjoon in a slot beside Yoongi, sharing a space that you thought was just your own, but where Namjoon has always had a place, as well?

With a soft sigh, you switch off the bathroom lights and feel cold as you leave the steam-fogged ensuite and step into the bedroom. Namjoon is already dressed in Yoongi's ill-fitting clothes, and he has a shirt and pants in his hands for you.

A terrible thought swirls inside you as you accept the clothes and set them onto the bed before tugging the clean shirt over your head: What if this is not how Namjoon really is, and he is only behaving this way to win your favor—to be close to Yoongi once more.

Surely, Namjoon cannot be so caring and gentle at all times—always one step ahead and thinking of everything. The same Namjoon who busted a man’s kneecap and used a stun baton to burn a hole into his chin. The same Namjoon who came running into the bathroom gleefully covered in another man’s blood.

Perhaps, this is a game Namjoon is playing, and sticking his toothbrush into your slot is just his first show of dominance. Or, perhaps that slot was never yours, to begin with, and he is easing you into the reality that your place is not beside Yoongi but in line behind Namjoon.

"Oh, you two are still up," Yoongi says cheerfully from the doorway as you grab the pair of pants and begin to step into them with your towel still tied around your chest, sticking out from beneath Yoongi's oversized black tee.

Namjoon advances, gently taking Yoongi by the jaw to place a soft kiss against his lips, and Yoongi smiles as his head tilts upward. Your gaze falls to the floor.

"I think we are both feeling the effects of the day, so we just washed up and got ready for bed," Namjoon says sweetly. "But if you were still feeling excited from earlier..."

Yoongi chuckles, and your eyes rise and search his face for the smile you adore. But the smile is not aimed at you, and you turn away quickly and yank the towel out from beneath the shirt, now that you are dressed and no longer need it. You walk to the bathroom and chuck the towel in the direction of the pile of discarded linen, and then turn with another sigh, resolved to excuse yourself to one of the guest rooms. After all, it does not seem like these two need a third.

You play it over and over in your head—It's been a long day, and I think bet the two of you would like some time alone to unwind—but Yoongi turns and intercepts you by the door, and as soon as you open your mouth to excuse yourself, his lips are on yours, gently sucking and kissing as he groans so sweetly. Hints of Namjoon's toothpaste linger on his lips.

"We don't have to do anything if you are too tired, darling," Yoongi mutters softly. "But we should get into bed."

And how could you possibly pull away when his scent fills your nose and his body feels so warm this close to yours? You hum and nod your head, and Yoongi smiles against your lips, leaving a soft peck as his hands fall from you, and he walks past you and into his bathroom.

Namjoon's eyes are on his hands, which fidget before him, and you watch the movements. He appears to be lost in thought, but when you take a step toward him, he looks up and smiles. It is a small smile that does not reach his eyes, but you return the gesture and close the distance between you, filled with the urge to figure out what seems to be bothering him.

"Everything alright, Joonie?" you ask, despite all trepidation you feel towards becoming closer to him. When it comes down to it, could you deny him anything—with those pretty dimples and soft smiles? Probably not.

"I'm...yeah," Namjoon mutters, shifting where he stands, clearly uncomfortable.

You shake your head softly and reach your arms around his neck, and Namjoon releases his grasp on his fidgeting hands, bends, and gently lifts you by the backs of your thighs. At eye level, settling your legs around his hips, you smile wide, and Namjoon returns it.

"Something is the matter," you insist softly.

"I just worry about imposing," Namjoon admits as he turns and carries you to the side of the bed. "I don't have to stay."

"Ah," you respond. You let your cheek fall to Namjoon's shoulder, and you twirl fingers in his damp hair, afraid to look him in the eye as you say, "If I'm being honest, part of me is scared of all of this. It's...happening so fast. But I do like you. You are very sweet, and I can tell why Yoongi loves you so much. And I would be happy if you stayed."

Your voice trembles as you finish your sentence, and you feel a rumble of sadness start from your chest and work its way to your throat. Because, of course, Yoongi loves Namjoon. But not you—not yet. And while you insist that you want Namjoon to be here, you are not entirely sure if you are telling the truth, or if you are doing all of this to make Yoongi happy. It is not as if you are ready to love Yoongi back, anyway.

Namjoon sets you on the bed and leans onto his hands, caging you between his arms. You keep your hands around his neck and search his face, but—save for a gentle smile—it appears blank.

"Always talk to me, okay?" Namjoon says softly. "If you have worries, if you need me to fuck off and give you alone time...I won't always be here, anyway, but even so, I can go to my house if you want me to."

You nod and allow yourself to feel positive about Namjoon's offer to give you space, though you will believe it when you see it. For tonight, you will allow yourself to be hypnotized by Namjoon's strong, warm body and deep, inviting voice, and worry about your treacherous heart another time.

"You can talk to me too," you mutter through a yawn. "I would like it if we are on the same page."

Namjoon leans in and places a soft peck on your nose, and you giggle from the gesture. Behind you, the bed dips, and another set of lips meet your neck.

With a sigh, you sink into the feeling and lean back against Yoongi, whose arms wrap around your ribs. Your hands slide from Namjoon's neck to his chest, and he leans and grazes his lips over the other side of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine to settle between your thighs.

"How tired are you, darling?" Yoongi asks as he nips gently at your skin.

A gasp falls between your lips as you whine, "Exhausted."

"Too tired for one orgasm, baby?" Namjoon groans beneath your ear, and you moan at the thought of him settling between your legs.

"M-maybe not too tired," you concede, feeling a frenzy of pleasure from the two sets of lips against your skin.

"Is that a yes, baby?"

Namjoon's voice is strong and commanding, and you find it impossible to say no when he hovers over you and makes you feel so good already from so little.

Your voice is weak as you whimper, "Yes, daddy."

The shirt is lifted over your head as the joggers are tugged down over your hips, and you can barely process any of it in real time—struggling to catch up to the quick, eager movements of both men. Yoongi scoots back a foot or so and urges you to follow, tugging at your armpits and pulling you against his chest, and Namjoon tosses the pants aside, spreads your legs wide as he leans against the edge of the bed, and closes his mouth on you with a long, sloppy lick over your clit.

Pleasure rocks through you, forcing you to collapse against Yoongi as you moan and tremble from Namjoon's eager mouth. He licks and sucks, devouring you with deep, needy groans, and you rock your hips against him, chasing the high that already builds at breakneck speeds.

Yoongi nips at your neck while he palms and squeezes your breasts, and Namjoon's hands hold your thighs open, pressing your legs toward the mattress while keeping them suspended over his shoulders. Beneath you, Yoongi's cock is hard and presses into your back, and if you were not so tired, you would beg him to let you suck it.

Even now, with Namjoon's tongue and lips working over your pussy, you feel as if you are teetering on the edge of sleep, relaxing into the feeling so much you worry you could disappear completely.

A finger prods gently at your entrance and twists as it penetrates you, stretching you just enough to make you gasp at the sudden fullness, igniting a fire inside you that you were certain your exhaustion had smothered. Namjoon's tongue laps across your clit to the steady rhythm of his finger, and your back arches as Yoongi's thumbs and forefingers twist and tweak your nipples just enough to spark a wildfire inside you.

You attempt to sit up as your hips rock into Namjoon's face and hand, and you are met with his dark gaze staring back at you as he pulls you closer to the edge of insanity. Namjoon's pupils are so blown out his eyes appear black—fierce like those of a dragon who has cornered his prey. He pulls his face back enough to give you a view of his thick pink tongue lapping through your folds, and you feel a strong wave of pleasure quake through you at the sight.

"Fuck, daddy, please," you moan as your head lolls back, and Yoongi captures your neck with his lips, sucking and nipping hard at your skin.

Mouths and hands devour and grip, and the flames that burst inside you consume you whole, drag you to the depths of hell, and you moan and tremble, wrapped in the hot embrace of pleasure as you cum so hard it knocks the air from your lungs.

Neither man eases up as you tremble and sob. Your body twists, only serving to drive Namjoon's finger and tongue into you harder. Before you can come down from your high, Namjoon slips a second finger inside, pulling a strangled moan from your throat as he stretches you open, and he fucks his fingers upward into your sweet spot.

Yoongi's tongue swirls over sensitive spots he has sucked and nibbled into your neck, fanning more small fires throughout you—spreading to the tips of your fingers and toes. It is dizzyingly intoxicating being in the grasp of both men, and when your second orgasm hits—fast and hard—it blindsides you.

Namjoon's fingers squelch inside you as his lips and tongue continue to work your sensitive clit, and you scream as suddenly the pleasure has built to such intense heights you feel as if you might explode. You attempt words, but nothing coherent falls from your lips as Namjoon grips your thigh tightly. He drills his fingers into your erogenous zone, and all sense of time and space burst.

Sobs and cries wail from deep within your chest as you cum. You are vaguely aware of words of praise from both men, and as you come down abruptly from your high—trembling and whimpering—Namjoon slowly removes his fingers as he leaves lazy kisses along the inside of your thigh. Beneath you, the comforter feels wet, and you shiver against Yoongi as the sheen of sweat that covers your skin turns cold.

"Holy fuck," you mutter. Your hands ache, and you release the blanket as the realization hits that you have been gripping it tight enough to cramp.

Yoongi gently cradles your shoulders as he raises you into a seated position, then Namjoon wraps his arms around you and lifts you from the bed. You do your best to wrap your limbs around him and nuzzle your nose into his neck. Behind you, there is a rustle of linen, and Namjoon sets you back onto the bed, this time close to your pillow.

You lay atop the sheets and roll away from Namjoon in a fetal position, wondering where the hell the blanket is. The bed dips behind you, and a warm body engulfs you in a hug—nude chest pressed flush to your back as an arm and leg wrap tight around you.

"Yoongi is getting a new blanket," Namjoon mutters into your neck between kisses.

"What's wrong with the other one?" you grumble, feeling yourself sink quickly to sleep as your body, mind, and soul all log out.

A deep rumble knocks warmly against your skin as Namjoon says, "You soaked a decent spot into the other one, baby. And you drenched my shirt."

"I—I what?"

Cool, thick linen covers you, and you shiver as you pull it close, warming it quickly from the body heat that you could swear moments ago that you did not have. You crack your eyes open to find Yoongi crawling into bed, and as he scoots close, you wrap yourself around his side much in the same way Namjoon is wrapped around your back.

"How are you feeling, darling?" Yoongi asks.

You groan and bury your face into his armpit, feeling too tired to will yourself to respond. Still, you manage to mutter, "Sleepy," in a whiny tone, and both men hug you tight.

Yoongi mutters something over your head, which Namjoon responds to, and both bodies shift around you as the soft sounds of lips smacking and throats groaning lull you to sleep.

An overwhelming sense of dread fills you as you approach his apartment. You steady your breath and rub your palms against the scratchy, mesh outer layer of your black column dress, touching the hard blade that rests just above the tall slit in your skirt as a reminder of why you are here.

It has been months since you have last seen him, and you have fantasized about this moment since the last time you were invited to his penthouse, but now that the night is here, all you feel is deep trepidation. But the honey bees have been buzzing that tonight is the night—that surveillance equipment in his building will have a mysterious outage during the next two hours—and you need to act fast.

You rap your knuckles against his door in a signature pattern—three quick and four slow—and stand for several minutes waiting for him to come. He always makes people wait—always being a huge fucking inconvenience simply because he has the power and influence to do so—and it pisses you off.

What is worse than waiting for him, however, is being invited in by him, and the moment he opens the door and you catch a suffocating whiff of stale cigar smoke and whiskey breath, you have to steel yourself and remember why you are here tonight.

"Kaori, come in, baby," he grunts in his gruff, haughty voice, and you cringe inwardly.

Kaori is a chosen name for this version of yourself, but it is not your name, and each time you hear it roll off the tongue of these despicable men—a reminder of you who you are to them—it makes you want to retch.

The man is just as ugly as you remember—unshaven, hair a mess, and, despite his high status, walking around with stains on his shirt. Rumor has it that he is in cahoots with a mob family that fights to control parts of the city, yet his name rings no bells anywhere but in the seediest parts of the underground.

You enter his apartment and step out of your shoes—flats, for ease of getaway—and drop your small bag beside the door. He instantly wraps his arm around your waist and yanks you into his body, throwing you off balance, and you grit your teeth as you fumble into him and grip onto his shoulder to steady yourself.

Sweat and smoke radiate from his grimy clothes, and you hold your breath for as long as you can as you are led into his place. His hand on your lower back feels sticky, and you fight the urge to flinch away.

You attempt to steer him straight to his bedroom, but he holds your waist tight and yanks you in the direction of his dining room. Being his client is bad enough, but his dinner guest? Hell on earth.

"I was hoping we could go straight to bed," you say as your fingertips graze over his chest, down to his waistband. "It's been so long since we have had a chance to fuck."

"That so?" he asks, leaning his face toward you and wafting his foul breath right into your nose.

You flinch away from the smell, and he spins you, slamming your chest and cheek into a nearby wall. "Such an eager whore? Maybe I should fuck you right here."

He begins to hike your skirt up, and you panic and shove it down, pushing his advancing hand away from your thigh and the knife strapped around it.

"Please," you whimper, "you know I like to be able to see you."

"Greedy whore won't kiss, but she likes to see my face?" he sneers.

Never have you tasted anything that has come close to the disgusting flavor of this man's tongue. His face is not the worst you have seen, but as a rule, men this deplorable should never be trusted to be behind you for any reason.

"Let's have a drink, yeah?" you offer hopefully.

With a grunt, he wraps his hand around your wrist and tugs you in the direction of his bedroom, holding onto you hard enough to bruise, and you stumble to keep up—bare feet slapping against cold hardwood floor.

Once you reach his bedroom, he shoves you through the threshold and begins undoing his belt. You nearly topple to the ground but right yourself and spin around, leaning against the edge of his bed and keeping him in front of you.

He chucks his belt to the floor in a loud clatter of metal and leather against wood, then he storms to the whiskey decanter on his dresser and pours two glasses, slamming one on the top of his dresser in your direction. The last thing you want to do is approach when he is in one of his moods, but drinking was your idea, and you do not want him to smell your fear.

You approach and reach for the glass, but he takes a step toward you, slaps your hand away, and grunts, "Undress, whore!"

"Sir—" you begin, but he takes another step forward and raises his hand as if to slap the back of his fingers against your cheek.

Instinctively, you reach for your knife, thankful that you correct yourself before he sees your hand hover inches above the high slit in your skirt. He does not follow through with his backhand, but he holds his position and leers down at you.

"Have I said something to anger you?" you try, hoping not to incur his rage.

He laughs and drops his hand to his side.

"You no longer fear me," he says as he turns back to his drink and grabs onto the glass with his sticky fingers. "Used to be I could put a little scare into you, but now you stand your ground. I like that about you."

Here he goes again, diving into what he likes about you. Lately, he has been offering to take you out of the brothel and make an honest woman out of you.

"I've been working with a very wealthy, connected man to overthrow the current mob boss," he likes to grumble in a drunken haze, followed by a brag you have never once believed. "Once the little boy is off the throne and it’s all mine, women will be throwing themselves at me."

The honey bees buzz from time to time with talk about the young kingpin, but he does not make himself known to the public, and lately, there have been rumors of internal fighting within the syndicate between his and another family. You do not care about gang activity and plan to separate yourself further from any syndicate goings-on after tonight, so details about the mob families and their drama do not interest you.

"I don't think Madame will so easily let me go," you say as you reach for the glass again. This time, he lets you have it, and you take a sip and hold the drink tight in your hand with an insincere smile plastered on your face.

He slams his drink back, brings his glass down against the wooden dresser in a loud thwack, and fills it to the brim with more caramel-colored liquor. "When I pay a handsome sum for you, Madame won't have shit to say."

Already his words have a slur at their tips, and you urge him to drink more, holding your glass out to clink against his. He takes the bait, raises a silent toast, and chugs back all eight or so ounces of whiskey. You have another sip of yours and watch as red slowly blooms over his chest and neck.

"Ready to fuck?" he snorts, and you smile sweetly.

"Of course I am, sir. Ready when you are."

First, he fumbles with his pants, undoes them quickly, and shoves them to the floor. His loose boxers hang over his thighs, and when he pushes them down and gets his foot caught on the waistband, you avert your eyes away from his dangling cock.

It is when he pulls his shirt over his head and attempts to yank his arm through the hole too soon—effectively making it catch and get stuck—that you reach below the high slit in your dress and pull the knife from a black lace garter on your thigh. You take a step backward, feel your butt hit the side of the mattress, and shove the knife beneath his blanket, then straighten out and hold your glass to your lips.

"Fuck," he mutters as his messy head comes free, and he stands nude before you, tossing his shirt to the floor.

You reach back and unclasp the halter neck of your dress and let it fall past your bare breasts and hang over your hips. With your thumb, you tug the material away from your skin and shimmy until it falls, standing only in a small black thong and lace garter.

"What a pretty whore," he grunts and approaches on unsteady feet.

You step aside and pat the mattress with your hand, purring, "Hop up, sir."

He throws himself onto his bed and crawls until he hovers over his pillow, then flings his body down, sprawled out on his back. You wonder if his cock could possibly get hard with the amount of whiskey that courses through him—not to mention the lines of cocaine he undoubtedly inhaled while making you wait in the hallway as you climb on top of him and begin grinding your clothed pussy against his lifeless length.

And as expected, he does not get hard. Not at first. So, you continue to grind and coo and almost allow yourself a silent celebration as he seems to drift off with his soft cock crushed beneath you. But then, he seems to jolt awake, and he grabs you by the hips and squeezes as he rocks himself against you until it hardens.

It is not long until he is tugging your panties aside and attempting to shove himself inside you, and you have to force him to stop and allow you to put a condom on him. It is in your contract, after all—no kissing on the lips and no raw sex.

"Once you're mine, I'll cum inside you all day," he mutters, and you shiver at the thought of something so terrible as your fingertips make quick work of rolling latex over him and gently shoving him inside of you.

You hate how good it feels to be penetrated by the half-hard cock of some disgusting low-life who makes you want to die. As you begin to rock your hips, you close your eyes and think of other men—handsome men with good hygiene and better manners—and you allow yourself to feel a moment of pleasure.

His groans pull you out of your reverie, and you bite back a scowl as you attempt to remember someone else again, but he is too worked up and making too much noise. You let out a sigh and attempt to compose yourself—you may as well just get the job done.

As you lean forward and place your palms down on the mattress, your right hand slowly feels around for the blade. It only takes a moment, and you watch his screwed-up, drunken face gasp and moan with his eyes squeezed tight and quickly dig your hand under the blanket for your trusty tool.

It is thin and long, and you cup it in your hand with the blade against your wrist as you reach forward and touch your fingertips to his ribs, softly searching for bone. Then, you move your hand away and twist the metal around until you have a firm grasp on the handle.

The whiskey must be hitting him even harder still as he grunts beneath you but keeps his eyes closed, lost on the rocking of your hips. He hardly flinches when you press the tip of the cold steel into his side, and as you exhale and shove the knife in deep, it takes him longer than you expect to open his eyes and investigate.

At first, you think he is going to try to fight you, but as you press the knife in deeper, he begins to gasp and shake, and he does not move enough to throw you off, so you pull the knife out and aim higher, near the heart. You stab him again, slowly still, working around bone and cartilage, until finally, he stills beneath you.

You tell yourself to run—to get out of there as quickly as you can and never look back—but you cannot seem to force yourself to move. You stare at the blood as it pools around him—gushes quickly as you slowly remove the blade—and when you look up to his face, it is to see the light fade from his drooping eyes.

Panic surges through you, but you move slowly as you lift your hips and drop his cock against his belly. You shake from head to toe and struggle to get your dress over your hips and fastened around your neck. Everything is foggy and distorted as you make your way from his bedroom to the front door, and you do not dare look back for fear of seeing his corpse coming to meet you.

At the door, you push your feet into your shoes, grab your small bag, which you shove your knife inside of, and leave so quickly, you practically trip. It is only now that adrenaline seems to surge through you, and you run down the hallway, to a staircase and begin to descend.

When you make it to the sidewalk and the cool night air hits your face, your ex holds onto the wrist of your faux fur leopard print jacket and tugs you toward a taxi. Confusion hits you—this is not the same night you were just experiencing—but before you can open your mouth, you are climbing into a car and finding Namjoon's smiling face in the rearview mirror.

Nothing makes sense, and you cannot sort out why Namjoon is here, but your ex tells him a familiar address, and with a dimpled smile, Namjoon drives.

You cannot find your voice, and when you look down, there is blood on your hands, and you worry that they will know—that everyone will know what you have done. As you look out the window and see your old apartment, the car pulls up to the curb, and your ex gets out.

"Wake up, sweetheart," Namjoon says, and you turn your eyes to the rearview mirror just in time to see Namjoon's face blend into the dead man's as he grunts, "Sweetheart! Time to wake up!"

You sit up with a start, surprised even by your own voice as a scream rips from your chest. It has been years since the last time you dreamt about that night, and the thought of his cold, dead eyes staring back at you makes you retch.

Namjoon mutters something, possibly asking if you are alright, but you can't quite make sense of his words as you fling yourself off the bed and sprint to the bathroom, throwing yourself to your bare knees in time to vomit into the toilet.

You squeeze your eyes shut, not eager to see the contents of your stomach—ramen and soybeans, no doubt—but you can taste it. Noodles, vegetables, and bitter death. The events of your dream were so close to what you remember that you cry as you squeeze your arms around the porcelain seat, which is cold against your chest.

Two hands pull your hair back and gather gently out of the way, and you shake your head, muttering, "No," as bile drips from your lips. You do not want to be seen like this—you would rather be left to die.

"It's okay," Namjoon mutters gently as a hand caresses your back.

Out in the main bedroom, the sound of footsteps come barreling in—socked but heavy, as Yoongi frantically shouts, "Darling! I heard screaming!"

"She's alright," Namjoon responds as Yoongi rushes into the room. "She woke up screaming, I'm guessing from a dream, and then she ran in here to vomit."

"A dream?" Yoongi asks.

You sit back against the cold tile floor feeling defeated, eyes drifting open just enough to let some of the morning light in and allow you to feel grounded to the real world—the real world in which he has been dead for years, and you are free from worrying about it.

The tap on one of the sinks runs briefly, and then you feel a warm cloth gently rubbing your chin before you process Yoongi wiping the remnants of your mess from your face. More hot tears spill and you gasp in a breath, suddenly feeling suffocated. Namjoon drops your hair and continues to rub big circles into your back.

And here you sit: Naked on the bathroom floor as two men attempt to soothe your worries. You feel pathetic, shivering like a small dog, and you make an attempt to push yourself to your feet with your palms against the toilet seat. The smell of your vomit is stifling but closing the lid and flushing the toilet requires too many motor skills.

Namjoon shifts behind you and scoops you up. It is haphazard at first, and you shout in surprise from being lifted, but as you spin in his arms and wrap yourself around his neck, everything feels warm and calm and safe. The toilet lid is closed, the toilet is flushed, and you are carried back into the bedroom.

"Want to talk about it?" Yoongi asks sweetly as Namjoon stands you beside the foot of the bed.

Yoongi pulls a long, fuzzy black robe over your shoulders and engulfs you in a firm, warm hug that makes tears fall again. You know in the depths of your heart that killing him was necessary, but each time you think about it—really think about it—you feel like a monster for spilling blood.

"I had a dream about him," you begin. "A-about S-Seungri."

Yoongi goes stiff in your arms, then pulls back from the hug and searches your face. His eyes are sad—sympathetic.

"Do you dream about him often?"

You shake your head and mutter, "No."

Silence falls, and Namjoon wraps himself around your back, pulling Yoongi into another hug that sandwiches you between the two of them. If you need any more confirmation that Yoongi knows, this is it. But you do not know how much, exactly, and there were details from the dream that you recalled—or subconsciously invented, you are not sure—that you would like to ask Yoongi about, though a part of you is afraid of the consequences.

"Yoongi," you mutter weakly.

"Yes, love?" Yoongi grumbles against your head.

"Can I ask you what you know about that night? Or, rather, that entire event. In my dream...maybe I made up some of the details, but...maybe there were things I blocked out until now."

Yoongi nods and leaves a kiss against your temple. "We can and will talk about this. I have meetings with the men for the next several hours, so I will not be able to give you my full attention until later, though. Is that okay, darling?"

You nod—what choice do you have? You would rather have an uninterrupted conversation than a fragmented one that takes place throughout the course of the day and leaves you mulling over more unanswered questions each time.

"Tonight, we will go to dinner and talk. Sound good?"

Another nod as you mutter, "Thank you, Yoongi."

As if on cue, the sound of a car honking comes from outside and Yoongi sighs. "Seokjin and Hoseok are here, which means Jeongguk will be rolling up soon. I gotta go. I'm sorry, darling."

Yoongi pulls from the hug, but Namjoon holds tight. With a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, Yoongi leaves the two of you, and you close your eyes and let out a deep breath.

"I'll call for some breakfast before I get ready to meet with Yoongi and Jeongguk," Namjoon says. "What would you like?"

You turn in Namjoon's arms and wrap him in a tight hug. He is shirtless, wearing Yoongi's joggers that are much too small, and he smells like home—a mix of the soaps you have come to love, plus a musk of his own. You may have had your worries last night, but today all you can feel is gratitude to be cared for by not only one of these men but by both of them.

After your breakfast arrives and Namjoon is finished getting ready for his meeting with the guys, he sheepishly asks if he could join you and Yoongi for dinner. He insists that he respects your need for alone time and that he recognizes he has been around a lot in the past two days, but that he may have contributions to lend to the conversation and that he would also like to be around for moral support in case it becomes too difficult for you to talk about.

And he is so cute—cheeks flushed and shy, nibbling on his bottom lip. How could you possibly say no?

You stand in your room hours later, waiting for Namjoon and Yoongi to finish meeting with Taehyung and Hoseok. The sun is nearly set, and your stomach rumbles at the prospect of dinner.

For tonight, you chose a modest black a-line dress with a halter spaghetti top, and no makeup, in case you cry again. Jimin is not around to apply his trusty waterproof mascara, and you do not want to take any chances with your own stash.

Loud laughter precedes footsteps jogging up the stairs two at a time, and you peek from your open bedroom door to find Yoongi approaching with a smile.

“Ready, darling?” Yoongi asks, eyeing your dress as he nibbles his lip.

You nod and leave your room, closing the door behind you, then snake your arm through Yoongi’s bent elbow as you make your way down the stairs. Namjoon is leaning over the back of the couch, laughing about something with Hoseok and Taehyung, and the atmosphere is light and welcoming for once.

“How long does it take Seokjin to drive back here, for fuck’s sake?” Hoseok complains as he checks his watch. “He said he was picking up Jeongguk thirty-five minutes ago.”

Taehyung shrugs, but his mouth hangs in a frown as he mutters, “I’m sure they will return soon.”

“I’m getting sleepy,” Hoseok grumbles as he pulls a metal vial from beneath his shirt, which hangs on a thick silver chain around his neck. He unscrews the top, pulls the small attached spoon to his nose, and snorts a tiny pile of cocaine. His voice becomes nasally as he whines, “I need my teddy bear to return so we can go to sleep.”

Namjoon ruffles Hoseok’s hair, which earns him a pointed glare and a snarl, and you giggle, pulling their attention. When Namjoon’s eyes land on you, he straightens out and smiles widely. Namjoon looks like he is going to say something when the front door slams open, and Seokjin hobbles through the threshold with a body draped over his shoulder—all you see is legs and an arm, but you assume, based on the conversation you overheard, that it is Jeongguk.

"Taehyung," Seokjin mutters. "I think he's been stabbed. There doesn't seem to be a lot of blood loss; I think he's delirious from being high."

Beside you, both Yoongi and Namjoon let out a deep sigh. Taehyung stands from the couch, straightens out his slacks, and walks over to Seokjin to collect the dangling body. Seokjin gently deposits Jeongguk into Taehyung’s arms, and you notice a large hole in the back of his shirt near his shoulder blades, but while there is a presence of blood, it does not seem to be bleeding very much.

You are relieved to see Jeongguk promptly wrap his arms around Taehyung’s neck with a dopey smile on his face. Without another word, Taehyung waves a hand in the air as a silent goodbye and walks with Jeongguk out the front door.

“Never a dull moment,” Hoseok mutters, and Namjoon scoffs. “I was starting to think you were walking here from the city.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes and shakes his head, turning to exit the house without saying a word to anyone else as he exclaims to Hoseok, “He drove his fucking bicycle!”

Hoseok laughs—loud and hearty—as he waves to you, Yoongi, and Namjoon and walks out the door. As the front door closes, you hear another shout from Seokjin, "I had to drive him on his fucking bicycle!"

You feel stunned. Mainly by how nonchalantly everyone has handled the news that Jeongguk had been stabbed. Surely it did not seem like a great emergency if Seokjin did not bother to call someone with a car to pick them up, nor if their resident doctor seemed so nonplussed. Perhaps what surprises you most is how normal it all seems.

“Well,” Yoongi says. “Shall we?”

You nod and turn to find Namjoon smiling nervously as he says, “I’ll drive,” and the three of you make you make your way to the door, sliding on your shoes and heading out into the night.

Perhaps, if you were normal, all of this would worry you to the point of wanting to run far away. But you are clearly not normal, and you feel a swell of affection as the three of you leave, and the chaotic mansion is quiet once again.

Come unmask your thoughts with me I won’t let go, I won’t let go Catch you falling back to dark I’m there, I’m there You you you you, next (is) gonna be you

🎵 visit the playlist

sorry again for the spread out update! my life has spiraled into chaos during this new semester. as always, please don’t be a silent reader! feedback & reblogs do so much to help content creators!

apologies if your name is kaori! >.

tag list: @afangirllikeme-blog, @angel-121, @btsiguess-kpop, @bts-ficreviews@btsstan12, @che-er-ful, @dasexydevitt13, @giriiboyy, @illnevertrustmyselfagain, @jalexad, @leanimal90, @likeshatteredrainbowglass, @mayeolorie, @mwitsmejk, @sleepilysworld, @stocking221, @thirstyforjoon, @valhallawhispers 🗡️ comment or dm to be added!

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#yoongi x reader #yoongi mafia #yoongi smut #namjoon x reader #namgi #namjoon smut #namgi smut #bts mafia #bts poly #bts smut #fic: collateral

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al-ien-pan-ic · 2 years ago

Text

Steddie Fics

Since I read a lot of Steddie fics in the past month here’s a list of every fic I gave 10/10 stars. Every fic in this list is finnished and available on AO3. The first three are my all time favorites, especially Not so bad since it brought me into reading english fics.

Not so bad by outofmygourd

Mature / 9 chapter / 43k words

Autors Summary: Vecna is dead. It's the summer after the party's freshman year. Steve Harrington spends it in the Family Video Store, and Eddie Munson is spending post-graduate life bothering him. And maybe Steve isn't as bothered as he used to be.

Keep it steady, Eddie by outofmygourd

Explicit / 16 chapter / nearly 105k words

Autors Summary: Eddie Munson doesn't mind working at the Family Video Store. It's a nice sense of normalcy (not to mention money) and he gets to see Robin more because of it. However, between working together and sharing the same best friend, he's also been seeing a lot more of Steve Harrington. He wants nothing more than to enjoy mindless fun with his friends now that everything with Vecna is over, but Eddie's finding it hard to move on from what happened. Even if the strangest thing in his life right now was simply the fact he and Steve Harrington might actually be friends.

sub-culture by palmviolet

Teen And Up Audiences / 13 chapter / nearly 61k words

Autors Summary: “Is he whining about Eddie being mean to him again?” Robin is leaning in the doorway, eating a leftover slice that’s probably cold by now. “You talk about him more than you talk about girls, Steve, it’s getting concerning. Anyone would think you had a crush.”

or, steve is pretty convinced eddie now hates him. turns out eddie has the opposite problem.

three thousand miles don't help by judypoovey

Teen And Up Audiences / 17 chapter / nearly 24k words

Autors Summary: After surviving Vecna and, more importantly, graduating high school, Eddie moves in with Steve and Robin. Needing a source of income, he and Steve decide to drive to California to buy weed from Argyle to bring back to Hawkins.

It's a perfectly good scheme, but things might not be all good in Hawkins by the time they get back.

Fade into you by annabeeus

Mature / 5 chapter / 52k words

Autors Summary: Steve Harrington doesn't need help. He just needs to get through this summer without completely falling apart. Unfortunately, it seems like Eddie Munson has other ideas.

(or: the one where they fall in love with each other, bit by little bit)

Drowning by elyzaapple

Explicit / oneshot / 14k words

Autors Summary: Steve has had a stressful few years, to say the least. He's pretty good at holding himself together, until he's not. Along comes Eddie Munson to pick up the pieces.

Of Kings and Cult-Leaders by ladyofthenorthernlights

General Audiences / oneshot / nearly 12k words

Autors Summary: “Why can’t you just do it in the Wheeler’s basement?” Steve asked for the third time.

"It’s too cramped for everyone,” Dustin insisted. “Come on, Steve. Eddie has been working on this campaign for nearly a month! We just need your dining-room for a few hours. Please.”

Or: Dustin convinces Steve to host Eddie's latest D&D campaign.

This Fever Started Long Ago by wastedonyoursmile

Explicit / oneshot / 9655 words

Autors Summary: Eddie and Steve bump into each other at Woodstock in '94 and quickly realize that they're not as over the past as they thought. Five years later and they're both still hung up on the "kiss" they shared the night Eddie skipped town.

The Quiet of After by m_g_k_1606

Teen And Up Audiences / oneshot / 8095 words

Autors Summary: Grimacing, Eddie apologised in his head to Steve, before pouring the hydrogen peroxide over the cuts scattering Steve’s torso, the latter groaning slightly in his sleep.

“Yeah man- shit I know, I’m sorry. It’s gotta be done though Harrington, nearly there.”

These Dreams by IntoTheStardust

Explicit / oneshot / 3577 words

Autors Summary: Steve has only recently come to the realization that he has a thing for Eddie. He definitely doesn't expect a trip to San Diego to throw him headfirst into something more, but the universe has other ideas.

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #steve x eddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #ao3fic #fanfic #stranger things #i read like a shitton of steddie fics last month #and i wont stop #this ship is my life now #i was never that obsessed with a ship #keep it steady eddie saved my life after vol 2 ngl #ao3 #fanfiction recommendation

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sitp-recs · 2 years ago

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weird specific request! do you know any fics that center around birthdays? I know this is so vague and I’m not sure if that makes any sense at all. But, my own birthday is coming up and I sort of despise it so I thought maybe reading about H/D enjoying their birthdays would make it a little more bearable for me

Hi anon, I’m sorry to hear this is a difficult date for you 💔 I just realized most fics I’ve read with this theme involve smut as a bday gift lol I hope these work, and that you find some joy in them!

Over the Edge by @gracerene (2018, E, 1.2k)

Draco and Harry spend a very enjoyable morning in bed.

Birthday Boy by RurouniHime (2012, M, 2.8k)

Thirty years old, and where was he?

Have Your Cake and Eat It, Too by @peachpety (2021, E, 4k)

Harry Potter loves his birthday… until he doesn’t. All it takes is a miserable slice of jealousy, sprinkled with an unfortunate slip of the tongue, and doused with a heavy dollop of pining to turn Harry sour. Fortunately for him, Draco Malfoy is there to sweeten the day.

Narcissus by cryptonym (2015, E, 4k)

Harry wants to give Draco something really special for his birthday. What could more special than Draco, himself?!

Cake by astolat (2016, M, 4.3k)

Harry tried not to care when after the war, everyone he knew seemed to have made an agreement to stop paying attention to birthdays.

Draco at Nineteen by birdsofshore (2015, E, 5k)

It's the middle of the night and Harry Potter is sitting on my bed looking distinctly weird. I've had some fucked-up dreams in my time, but this one... this one is something new.

(Un)Calculated Risk by @l0vegl0wsinthedark (2017, E, 7k)

He thought about the way Harry looked at him, smiled at him; about the way Draco’s head was nearly always full of him, all day every day, and about the way Draco sometimes deliberately went to bed still smelling of him, refusing to acknowledge what it meant – because he already fucking knew what it meant. What all of it meant. And then Draco decided, fuck it, he was going to risk it. They were going to risk it together, Harry and Draco.

knead, then let rise by @softlystarstruck (2021, T, 7k)

Malfoy stumbles back into Harry’s life via the laundry room. A story about baking bread and tripping over words and falling in love.

Better Late by mindabbles (2014, E, 7k)

Harry is miserable at his birthday party. So miserable, in fact, that he briefly considers leaving to take care of drunk teenagers, as the only better option available. That is, until something infinitely preferable presents its, or rather his, self.

Kill, Fuck, Marry by @lettersbyelise (2018, E, 12k)

Harry and Draco unexpectedly meet again on Draco’s birthday, years after their last encounter.

Poppiholla by @moonflower-rose (2021, M, 13k)

Harry had accepted that he would pine silently for Malfoy forever, but one, humid summer might change that.

Bonus: Teddy’s birthday

Passion Cake by @icmezzo (2018, T, 19k)

It’s all about desire. (Harry orders a magically enhanced cake from a chic London bakery, and from there it all goes to hell in a cake tin. Also, will someone please tell Harry what Passion Cake is?)

#asks #anon #drarry reclist #birthday theme

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adonis-koo · 4 years ago

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Star Struck

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↳ Summary: You’re a creature of habit, you plan everything from each hour to each day, so you can imagine the chaos which ensues after you discover a random guy leaking black goo in a ditch- who just so happens to be an alien.

↳ Pairing: Jungkook/Reader

↳ Genre: lowkey strangers to lovers, alien!jungkook, fluff, smut,

Word Count: 12k

Tags: before anyone asks, yes tentacles are involved because I’m a proud monster fucker, jungkook has separation anxiety from Mc :(, he’s immediately whipped, and he can’t speak any human language at first oops, he like,,,tries it for a second before MC goes 🏃‍♀️ this is unedited and for that im sorry bc yikes

___ | Next

In many cases, you could recall how you got into situations. For instance, when you were late to your mid morning lecture, you had zero excuses- not that the professor cared at all when you walked in with a bag of mcdonalds and a venti latte from starbucks. But the principle of the situation remained the same, you knew your actions would cause you to be late. You understood the consequences of your actions.

The same could not be said for when you took in the curious male who didn’t understand a word you said.

“What do you mean you just- picked him up off the side of a fucking ditch!” Jimin flailed his hands as you twisted around to face you, the male was examining his hands as if he had never seen them before, not paying either of you any mind.

You held up your hands as you replied, “I did!” You shouted back, immediately gaining the males attention as his eyes flashed between you and Jimin, “He was just…! Laying there! I don’t fucking know! What was I supposed to do? Leave him, look he’s hurt.” You pointed out the obvious wounds he sported.

“...He’s bleeding black goo Y/n! Have you never seen a horror movie before oh my god!” Jimin grabbed his head as his voice became dramatic and peril, “You’re practically number one on his kill list! He’s probably here to abduct us and- and butt probe us or some shit!”

You raised your brows defensively as you crossed your arms, “Look at him!” You pointed a finger at the male making him flinch a little, leaning a little away from you where he sat as his expression shifted, looking as if he was a kicked puppy at your tone, “Does that look like a butt probing alien to you shit face?”

“Maybe!” Jimin snapped back, “He ain’t human that’s for fucking sure! Just…!” Jimin flailed his hands, “Just look at him!”

You groaned as you rubbed your face, you knew it looked bad! You hadn’t meant to stumble across a body when you went out for your morning walk which you had been trying to do in an effort to be more mindful and healthy, but it seemed to only lead you to stressing the fuck out.

You turned to look at the male, he looked anything but alien, well- for the most part. His eyes looked up at you almost glossy like, they were big and doe like, his lips plush and his hair dusted his eyes yet almost looked like a raven blue.

He looked human, mostly. The part that threw you off was, for one the black goo that trickled down his skin- maybe if you were a photography major you’d scream how aesthetic it was and just take a picture before leaving him to die, but unfortunately this wasn’t the case and here you were.

The other part of him was, well....the bits that glowed. You would’ve honestly mistook him for a horrible Avatar cosplayer that had a little too much last night had it not been for the black goo, the strip of glow emitted from his body all the way from his hands up his arms, and you assumed back to his shoulders as well.

Most might have considered it tattoo’s and maybe you could pass it off as such if it weren’t for the constant soft hue purple, it shifted between blue occasionally but remained purple for most of the duration you had spent with him.

“What the hell are you even gonna tell Seokjin!” Jimin grabbed his head as he began to pace, “He totally won’t let this- this thing stay with us!”

You glared as you stomped over to the male who straightened a little, the marks on his skin suddenly tinging red as you turned to face Jimin, “Seokjin can shut the fuck up! And so can you! For all we know he’s just into special effects and can’t speak English you xenophobic fuck!”

“I’m Korean you whore!” Jimin dramatically shouted as he walked across the apartment, for what reason? You weren’t sure other than to make a point and raise his voice, “I know Asian when I see it and that’s not it! I’m headed for class and when I get back he better be back in his fucking UFO.”

You rolled your eyes as you kneeled down to look at the male, the marks had flared back to it’s constant state of purple once more as he blinked, “I’m sorry about him,” You apologized sheepishly, “He ah...he’s an asshole,” The male only tilted his head a little, “I’m...Y/n.” You felt a bit dumb talking to him.

You didn’t want to assume he couldn’t understand you but...well...He just seemed so, curious, innocent even. His eyes peered around at his surroundings as if he had never seen them before. Not as if he hadn’t been in your home but, as if he had never sat on a bed, his body would bounce a little as if testing the springs only to find out they’d bounce and his eyes would light up.

He had been playing with the light switch on the wall of the apartment when you first got home, he didn’t seem to understand you necessarily but he responded well to the tone of voice because when you told him to stop he seemed to understand.

He had tried to speak a few times, but...Well, Jimin may have had a point, it didn’t sound like any Asian dialect, at all. It didn’t even sound like any language you had even heard of...Even if he looked like some sort of Asian ethnicity, which you supposed was the strangest part about this. He looked human, but he didn’t sound human.

He spoke in a sort of throaty tongue that seemed frantic at first, but he must have quickly realized you couldn’t understand him and had opted to mute ever since, “What’s your name?” You asked, only to sigh in response as he blinked unsuspecting of whatever you had said.

Sitting down in front of him you sighed, “Okay nevermind, we’ll figure out a name to give you meanwhile- hmmm, let’s get those fixed up yeah?” You stood up, noticing he wasn’t doing the same, leaning down you went to grab his hand.

The marks on his arms suddenly lit in a deep maroon red as he jumped back making you screech- whatever thought of you assuming he was human went out the window at the sudden burst of...of....tentacles pushing out of his back and pulling in front of him like some sort of shield.

“Woah! Woah holy shit, oh my god!” You flailed at the sight of his narrowed eyes and his defensive stance as you held out your hands in sign of peace, “I’m not going to hurt you! I- I just want to fix your wounds okay!” You fumbled out the words, “I’m your friend, yeah?”

His eyes squinted a little further as he glanced between your hands and your hand, tentacles like you had seen- no you weren’t gonna go there- they looked almost- No. You weren’t gonna say it, you weren’t even gonna think it. They were almost glass like, but looked as soft as silk, probably deadly and something you shouldn’t touch.

They restricted a little and much to your surprise he parted his lips as he slowly spoke, “...Friend…” As if testing the word on his lips. You raised your brows in surprise, if this man was an alien then...he was a really quick learner.

You nodded rapidly as you spoke,” Yes! Yes! I’m a friend! Friend’s don’t hurt each other. Just...let me…” You slowly approached him, trying not to watch the four tentacles that emerged from his back keep your attention away from his face, the markings on his arms glowed a dimmer red, as if his initial reaction calmed down, slowly it melted back into a soft purple hue as his eyes carefully watched you grab his hand as you repeated, “Friend.” You gave it a little squeeze, his brows furrowing as he looked at his much larger hand encasing yours, to your face before back to your hand which held his.

“Friend.” He echoed back tilting his head a little before his eyes suddenly lit up in understanding, nodding frantically he replied, “Friend!” His expression of anger was like the night to the day of his smile, which was bright and almost childlike, as if he suddenly realized what the term friend meant, “Friend!” He squeezed your hand back causing you to squeak at the immense strength he had, the symbol that curved on his hand suddenly shifted to a dark grey as his eyes quickly became worried.

“Friend?” His voice gentler this time as he stood up, practically towering over you as he peered down as if you were a little puppy, concerned he had hurt you.

“I’m okay!” You nodded, feeling your voice a pitch higher and your face felt hot despite knowing full and damn well you were not going to fuck this alien, yet you had definitely watched too much hentai in your life to at least not let the thought cross your mind once. He was good looking, by human definition anyways, “Lets um...let’s just get you into the living room.”

Curiously he followed you before you had him sit on the couch, he gave a little bounce to the cushion as his brows furrowed before his lower lip jutted into a pout- obviously realizing this surface wasn’t bouncy….How could an alien be in your house, who nearly killed you with the tentacles from his back….look like this...

You briefly wondered this question as you frowned, grabbing the first aid kit before sitting back down beside him, his marks suddenly glowing purple as his eyes curiously watched you pull out a rubbing alcohol wipe, you paused as you looked at his big doe eyes that looked at you so innocently...If he reacted violently to his hand being held you knew damn well this was going to be a bitch to convince him you weren’t trying to kill him…

“Look…” Your voice drew his eyes to yours as he focused on your words, “This is gonna...hurt...a lot okay…?” You offered a semi awkward half smile, gesturing to your own bicep where it was bleeding on him before gesturing to him, “Pain…” You nodded a little, making him nod, his eyes darting to his own before back to you but you could tell by the look in his eyes he had no idea what you meant.

“Pain.” You pinched his skin making him jolt, his eyes darting between your small fingers and you as he frowned, marks mixing with purple and red, “Pain…?” He mumbled, rubbing a hand on his head, suddenly he began speaking in his tongue, his voice deeper and throater then when he repeated anything in english.

Maybe talking to himself, he wasn’t looking at you as he sighed, “Pain.” He spoke more firmly as he looked at you, seemingly a little lost, you held up the wipe as you gave a defeated smile, “Pain.” You nodded, knowing he would definitely understand what the word meant once you got this over with.

To say he reacted violently, was a very poor understatement.

His marks were lit up a bright red and his tentacles had emerged from his back once and he practically flew to the other end of the couch in defense as he howled in pain as he examined the large wound on his bicep, “Friend!” He cried out in anger, eyes glaring at you and tentacles covering his body as if he was a wounded animal.

He had ended up destroying a few knick knacks around the house, a chair and a few photo frames while you attempted to chase after him in effort to clean his wound while he ran away like a puppy avoiding a bath. Obviously he knew you weren’t dangerous enough to try and hurt but...it seemed his pain tolerance was...extremely low.

Eventually you had gotten him to behave and sit down, as he glared at the floor, marks glowing yellow as you felt him wince and jolt with every dab of the wipe, “Friend.” he mumbled with gritted teeth before he spoke in his native tongue, something you assumed was probably not so nice at you.

“The feeling is mutual pal.” You muttered, not knowing what he said but knowing, deep in your heart, your feelings were most definitely the same to one another. He did little to resist your touch afterwards, eyes furrowing as he watched you carefully bandage his wound, occasionally he’d poke- not at the wound but the bandage, his fingers would pinch the material and he’d cock his head as if examining it.

“Have…” You frowned a little as you tilted your head, gaining his attention, “Have you never been to Earth?” You were going to be extremely upset if you woke up in twelve hours and Jimin told you that you were on an extreme LSD trip and you just imagined a really hot alien in your head.

His eyes lit up in the same way they had earlier, “Earth?” He raised his brows, lips parting before he suddenly looked around again, “Earth!?” He suddenly cried out as he stood up, looking around before going to the window and peaking out of the blinds, “Earth…” He suddenly spoke in his native tongue once more as he ran a hand through his hair before turning to face you, “....Human…?” He had said something else you couldn’t understand besides the singular word.

“Yes…?” You nodded making him almost whine as he grabbed his head, as if in disappointment, you offered a weak smile. You supposed if you were an alien that had seen galaxies beyond imagination you’d be pretty disappointed at seeing Earth too.

He sighed as he frowned, looking around the apartment before straightening back up as he looked at you, pointing to himself as he spoke, “JK.”

You blinked a few times, unresponsive as you frowned, “What…?” Your face scrunched as he bounced a little, repeating the two letters once more as he pointed to himself somewhat harsher, your brows raising before your lips parted, “Oh…! You’re JK! That’s your name?” You gave a smile as you nodded.

His smile was like a child as his fists curled up as he nodded rapidly, not understanding a word you said but it looked as if you understood, “Y/n.” You slowly prounicated your name as you pointed at yourself.

JK had attempted to say your name, multiple times actually, but his brows pinched in frustration, having a hard time with it, but oddly enough it was quite endearing to watch him repeatedly try and say your name, even after you have found yourself on your phone, typing in the nearest place to eat while trying to figure out how to break it to Seokjin that an alien would be boarding with you guys for awhile.

What else were you supposed to do…? Call the police? You looked at JK with a frown, he seemed oddly innocent and you’d feel guilty doing that to him, his brows pinched as he fumbled over your name once again as he puffed a breath in frustration, the marks on his arms glowing a deep hue of light orange.

“JK.” His gaze snapped to yours as he tilted his head, you offered a dull smile as you spoke carefully, “Eat?” You pointed to your mouth before stomach, JK rubbed his head briefly mirroring you as he rubbed his stomach a little confused. You hummed as you searched around before finding a leftover candybar on the coffee table, “Eat.” You pointed at it before taking a bite.

“Eat.” JK had an easy time saying that word with a nod before he suddenly seemed excited, bouncing his spot as he nodded wildly, “Eat! Y/n…!” His nose suddenly scrunched at messing up your name again.

His attention was brought back to you at the sound of you giggling at how cute he really was for someone that nearly killed you twice within the last hour, “Yeah, it’s almost dinner time, we should get something to eat, I’m starved and Seokjin banned me from the kitchen.” You gestured to him to follow you as he cocked his head, not understanding a word you were saying.

You pulled one of Seokjin’s hoodies from his laundry basket as he handed it to JK who frowned, looking at his own clothes before back at you, as if silently asking why he needed to change. No nevermind the fact he glowed like a fucking lava lamp, “Hide.” You pointed at his arms as he frowned, looking down at them.

“Hide!” You emphasized as you pointed towards your own arm then to his before it suddenly clicked as he nodded, sighing as he spoke in his own tongue the throat sound of something like mild disappointment and you could understand, but it was necessary.

JK all of a sudden pulled the shirt over his head nearly making you scream, the sight of compact muscles and tan skin that almost had an iridescent sheen glowed, your body suddenly feeling extremely warm as JK fumbled a little confused.

He frowned as he tilted his head, why were you covering your eyes? He looked down at himself before back at you, was....was he not supposed to change right here? He pulled the sweatshirt over his head, saying something that made you pick up in relief to see he was changed.

You grabbed your chest as you groaned, “Don’t do that again.” You were in too much a dry patch and desperation to be alone with an alien that had tentacles and a face like that.

Now with his marks being covered you just needed something for his hands...You frowned a little before something occurred to you, going over to Jimin’s gym bag you grabbed the finger clothes he always used to lift barbells with.

His fault he was a pussy that didn’t want to get callouses.

You handed them to Jk as he tilted his head, first examining the fabric before he slipped them on, looking at them as he snorted as if amused before saying something that sounded an awful lot like he enjoyed wearing these.

“Eat, now.” He perked up at your words as you nodded and he excitedly followed you as you grabbed your bag and phone before exiting the apartment building. JK was beyond fascination, looking around as if he had never seen anything like this place, even going so far as to wonder off a few times, immediately making you hold his hand once more to keep him next to you.

Other people also stared at him, but mainly because he was acting weird, you shoved him a little and he seemed to understand to stop.

But he still took a few peaks before his feet halted, making you nearly yanked back as he stopped, his lips parted and his eyes were all big and doe like in awe as he stared out over the sunset, speaking once more and you frowned. You wished you could at least pick up a few words of his own language, JK was honestly impressive in picking up so much in so little time.

You smiled a little at how fond he appeared to be looking out over the sunset before you tugged his hand which was still in yours, he looked down at you before pointing towards the sun as you nodded, “Yeah it’s pretty, but let’s go eat, I’m starving.”

“Pretty.” He repeated before looking back out over the sun as he repeated the word again as you tugged him along. Entering the Panda Express it was nearly empty given it was six o’clock already and the dinner rush had left but that was good, you weren’t sure you could control JK in this type of environment.

JK only observed you as you ordered for the both of you, watch the mouth watering food slide down the servers before you paid for your meal, leading you both to sit the back of the store where glass paneling was up for JK to keep looking at the sunset as you set his box in front of him.

Fried rice and orange chicken was never a bad combo for the first time eater. JK observed you as you held up your fork, plowing into your food as you sighed in contentment before a noise of amusement escaped you at the sight of JK pinching his brows as he struggled with holding his fork.

His eyes darting to you as his lips parted a whine escaping him as he messed up your name again making you laugh even harder, you waved a hand before you set down your fork, leaning over the table as you spoke, “Okay fine, fine, no need to get so pouty. Here, you just...place them like this.” You fixed his long thick fingers that fumbled a little before they properly gripped the fork.

“Okay? Like this.” You held up your own before scooping up a pile of rice with it, Jk mirrored you, puffing a breath in slight frustration at the sight of the rice falling from his fork a little, “If you’re mad about this I guess it’s a good thing i didn’t get us chopsticks.” You snorted as JK focused on his food.

You watched in curiosity as he took his first bite, his brows furrowing for a moment and his held tilting as if he was heavily focused on how it felt in his mouth before his brows shot up and almost immediately began scooping more food into his mouth like he was a fucking starved man held captive. You were surprised at how fast he was devouring his food but you only smiled softly as you began eating as well, enjoying the rest of your meal in silence.

JK had even ate the rest of your food once you were finished, you just sat there in your seat, your knee hiked up towards your chest while you ran a hand through your hair absentmindedly while watching him devour the rest of the food.

“Good?” You called out, JK’s eyes finally leaving your box of food, rice sticking to his upper lip making you smile a little as he rapidly nodded, looking like he was drunk off fried rice and orange chicken, probably not even paying attention to what you said.

By the time JK was finished he slumped in his seat, stretching out as a yawn escaped his lips, his eyes closing briefly before he sighed, looking out over the glass paneling as if something troubled him before his eyes darted back to your figure and back to the window.

You wished you could speak fluently in whatever language he spoke so you could ask what he was thinking about, once all of the innocence had melted off his expression in those child-like moments of glee, he was left like this, as if he was tired and maybe even lonely.

How did he even get here? And did he need to get back? To where he was originally going? You thought back to his disappointment when he realized he was on Earth, and if you could stretch for a reach, you’d say he obviously had another location in mind before...whatever happened.

“Hey,” you called out, drawing his attention as he raised his brows, “Home.”

He tilted his head as he echoed the word, “Home?” You stood up as you nodded with a small smile, knowing damn well you wouldn’t be able to avoid Seokjin forever.

JK stood up mirroring you before you guided him to where you threw your boxes away and he had even helped clean up the table before you both exited the shop, it was now dark out and the walk home was quiet as ever. But you enjoyed it, his company at least, you didn’t really have a lot of friends outside Jimin and Seokjin, who were your best friends since middle school and you all now split rent on an apartment close to campus.

You opened the door, peeping in as JK stood there mildly confused, Jimin and Seokjin sat on the couch watching a movie much to your disappointment, opening the door fully you pressed a finger to your lips at JK as he tilted his head before you quietly shut the door. Grabbing his hand as you gently tugged it along.

“Where in the absolute fuck do you think you’re taking him you horny fool?”

God dammit.

You grabbed your head with a groan as JK frowned, almost immediately concerned as he looked around, Seokjin stood up with his arms crossed, “He told me all about the goo monster here.”

“He’s not a monster!” You screeched making Seokjin snort as he raised a brow, “...He’s an alien.”

“Wearing MY sweatshirt!? That’s balenciaga!” Seokjin cried out, pointing an accusing finger at JK who looked a little concerned, looking at Seokjin then at you who he shuffled a little behind like a puppy with a tail between his legs.

You felt an immediate wave of protection come over you at the sight of the action as you stood in front of him, despite him towering over you, “Would you stop! I’ll get him clothes tomorrow! Just leave him alone, okay, he’s hurt, he doesn't know anything about Earth and he just…!”

“He’s not a dog Y/n!” You pressed your lips together as you looked away from Seokjin who glared at you pointedly, “We don’t know what this thing is or his intentions.”

It was difficult to imagine JK’s intentions being anything but good when he was delighted at finding out your bed was bouncy, or the take of friend rice and orange chicken, or his excitement at the sunset, “He isn’t here to kill us! I can promise you that...just!” You squeezed your fists as you sighed, “Just trust me, okay? He’ll stay in my room and i’ll get everything he needs.”

“Until what!?” Seokjin shouted at the lunacy of your words and you understood, it wasn’t everyday someone stumbled across an unconscious alien in a ditch, “Until what Y/n!?”

“Until he’s able to speak enough English for us to know what the fuck he’s doing here, hell if I know Seok!?” You raised your arms, you...you hadn’t thought about his words yet, admittedly, “He just needs somewhere to stay until he understands more about Earth and how it works here okay? Listen…” You shuffled in your spot as you sighed, “The moment he poses a threat….i’ll deal with it okay? We can call the police or whatever and report it, but he’s been docile the whole time…” Okay that was a stretched truth but what they didn’t know wouldn’t kill them.

“Jesus christ,” Seokjin groaned as he collapsed back on the couch as he sighed, “...Fine, just make him use Jimin’s sweatpants.”

“Hey! I didn’t consent to this!” Jimin whined who had been admittedly just sitting back and enjoying the fight between you both as he almost always did, serves the hoe right.

You said no more not wanting to push things further as you grabbed JK’s hand once more guiding him down the hallway as you pushed the door to your room open, his eyes lit up a little at the familiar sight, hurriedly he went to the bed as he bounced on his as he laid down, burying into your blankets and pillows with a content sigh as if he had been aching to lay down all day.

You felt a little bad at the sight knowing you should’ve probably let him rest sooner, choosing to sit down on the floor you opened up your laptop before you began working on the paper that was due by tomorrow afternoon that you had chosen to ignore since you had came across JK this morning.

By the time it was late night JK had been in a deep sleep, obviously deducing that humans weren’t that dangerous of a species to keep himself awake over. You yawned yourself as you shut your laptop, rubbing your eyes before you looked at your bed, frowning as you sighed. Grabbing the pillow that had fallen off the side of the bed as you laid on the ground. You had slept in worst places before.

You sighed in contentment as you rolled over on the nice soft surface, warmth filling you and sleep had been particularly forgiving to you last night. Man what had been so forgiving today to let you sleep this good?

The memories of yesterday had filtered to your mind too quickly making your eyes snap open, you had fell asleep on the floor how did you get in bed!? You searched frantically for the puppy like alien who was absent from where he had been collapsed here last night.

Fuck this better have not been that bad LSD trip! It would have you fucked for months that Jimin would really let you believe there was a hot alien guy you made up in your head. You quickly padded down the hallway almost frantically before your eyes were met with three heads of hair on the couch.

“Die! Die!” Your mouth moved multiple times but you couldn’t form a single coherent sentence at the sound of JK’s nose wrinkling and buttons being mashed as the three boys were sitting with controllers in hand.

“Which one of you fuckheads taught him that word!?” You growled finally, knowing JK was your age and probably even hundreds of years old depending on how his species aged and he understood the concept of killing but shit! You didn’t like hearing him say it like that when he seemed so naive and innocent about everything else on Earth.

Seokjin and Jimin both whipped around sheepishly at the same time before they started immediately blaming one another as you gritted your teeth. You would’ve continued to glare at them both if it not been for JK’s cheeriful voice, he had immediately perked at the sound of before hurrying over, “Y/n!” His pronunciation had gotten better and it was difficult to not smile at the triumph in his voice as if knowing he had improved before stating your name again, “Game…!” He pointed at the TV before his controller.

You nodded, “I can see that…so I guess he’s suddenly not a threat anymore?” You sneered at both of your bestfriends, JK frowned a little as he looked between you three, obviously confused as to what was going on.

Seokjin looked mild, pretending as if he hadn’t heard what you said, prideful bitch, “He’s okay. Better at Jimin in Overwatch if you can believe it, maybe I’ll just let him be my duo instead.”

“Hey fuck off!” Jimin glared at him, brushing his shoulder in somewhat offense before he spoke, “He is good though, wouldn’t stop saying your name this morning though.”

“He couldn’t say it yesterday,” You explained before turning to JK again, offering him a weak smile, “Play.” You pointed at the TV in encouragement, who were you to tell the man what to do? You just rolled out of bed and needed something to eat before you interacted anymore with those two idiots.

JK looked excited as he ran back over to the couch before he spoke, “Play! Y/n play!” Your lips parted at the way he strung the two words together so easily, he was catching onto the language...fast...like extremely fast. His species was obviously intellect enough that this was a skill of theirs, or so you assumed for him at least.

“No play. Eat.” You pointed at yourself before the tiny kitchen as you walked away hearing a noise that sounded like a whine from him.

“Hey you're making breakfast for all of us right?” Jimin called out, making you glare him down and if lazerbeams could shoot from your eyes he’d be a pile of ash, he held out his arms as he spoke, “Damn fine, so much for sharing is caring in this household huh.”

You rubbed your eyes ignoring him as you yawned, immediately making a cup of coffee before turning to the fridge only to jump at the tall boy standing in front of you peering down wide eyed and curious, “Eat.” He said singularly before he offered the world's cutest smile that you couldn’t begrudge as easily as you could Jimin.

Fuck! He was asking you to cook for him and he had a cute almost bunny-like smile and he looked so endured and hoping you would make him something as good as Panda Express, which there was no way you could but jesus you were willing to try.

“Breakfast,” You pronounced slowly, knowing this was a bit of a harder word for him as he tilted his head and repeated ‘Eat’ once more before you shook your head, “Eat, breakfast.” You tapped the clock on the stove that ticked away, showing it was ten in the morning.

JK only rubbed his head in confusion before shrugging, he sat patiently in the stool at the counter as he happily watched you cook away. You didn’t make anything too fancy, just breakfast sandwiches for you both before you set his plate down in front of him, a happy smile on his face as his nose crinkled.

Not even hesitating before he dug into the meal which you had purposely made him two given how big of an appetite the man had, something akin to pride swelled in your chest though at the sight of JK nearly devouring the sandwiches happily, Jimin stepped into the kitchen looking offended as he sputtered, “Oh so you’ll make breakfast for the hoe that can hardly speak but you won’t for your best friend, I see how it is. Is it because you know I won’t fuck you and he probably will?”

“Shut up!” You hissed immediately, unable to even enjoy your own food because of your head ass best friend who only smiled viciously at how flustered you were. JK was naively munching on his food not understanding a single word either of you were saying and not caring either when his face was stuffed with food.

Seokjin entered the kitchen making himself something to eat as well, “Hey, are you guys going to that party tonight at Beta Tau?” He tilted his head as your nose immediately wrinkled, you used to do frat parties back when you were a freshman but since then you just couldn’t keep the high pace anymore or the sleazy guys.

“I’m going!” Jimin called out, before tapping his chin as he looked towards JK before you, “Hey, we should bring JK along, give him some good socialization!”

“Uh no, that’s a horrible idea,” You shook your head immediately, “And I never said I was going either, and if I don’t go he’s definitely not going.” JK tilted his head in curiosity, knowing his name had been brought up before he between you both.

“Boo you whore,” Jimin tossed a piece of bagel at you as you dodged it, his nose wrinkling as he pointed his butterknife at you, “You’ve just been nursing your wounds ever since Mark dumped you. You know it’ll be good for you and him.”

“I am not nursing wounds!” You hissed out, feeling like a black rain cloud was piling over your head as you crossed your arms, “And it is a bad idea, JK hardly knows anything about Earth, taking him to a frat party is like tossing a baby into the ocean.”

“Umm all I hear is bullshit babe,” Jimin scoffed as he rolled his eyes, “Besides, a little party never hurt anyone, it’s our job to show off what Humans are capable of after all.”

“At a frat party…?” You frowned as you sighed.

“He’s not a baby Y/n,” Seokjin frowned as he looked between you both, “Just because he can’t speak english and he’s unfamiliar with how we live doesn’t mean he isn’t intelligent, i’m sure they have parties where he’s from. If this is about Mark that’s kinda selfish to hold him back.”

You weren’t…! You weren’t babying him! And this wasn’t about Mark! You just…! You weren’t in the mood to see him, especially attached to Lisa, who you had already thought was hot as it was but instead of going for you she went for your boyfriend and now they were together,

It had been a pretty big blow to your ego.

“Fuck fine! We can go what the fuck ever. I have to go get him clothes today though if you don’t want him bumming off you guys though.” Jungkook was still wearing his clothes from yesterday and he didn’t look the least bit concerned though he watched you guys curiously.

Jimin pumps his fists in victory as he shoved the bagel in his mouth, “You guys do that then, it’ll be a good bonding session, anyways I have a lecture I’m already late for peace.” He threw up a peace sign before quickly exiting as you huffed, you thought it was weird he was here at 10am on a friday morning.

“Bond?” JK perked up looking at you in excitement as your brows furrowed a little, how could he pick up random words so fast? Jesus, he’d be enrolling in college just to see what it was about within the weeks if he didn’t chill out.

“Something like that,” You muttered, “Finish your food though,” You gestured to his sandwich before you picked up your own taking a bite, “I need a shower first but afterwards we can go out and get you some new clothes.”

JK frowned as he looked down at his clothes once more, obviously slowly beginning to understand you more and more as his lips jutted a little, clearly he liked his clothing he was wearing.

Maybe they just didn’t change clothes where he was from? It was difficult to say, regardless you shook your head finishing up before you went to your room. JK followed you around like a lost puppy as he had finished eating before you.

You had paused at the door to the bathroom as you frowned, JK looking as if he’d totally come in if you’d let him, “Go play.” You pointed towards the living room where Seokjin had resumed Overwatch.

JK frowned as he looked between the living room and you, “Bond.” He pointed at you making your pupils widen a little, what was that supposed to mean? He shuffled a little more, nearly chest to chest with you as you craned your head to look at him, jesus he had to be 6’3 in the average pool of 5’9 men, “Bond.” He said more firmly.

“No.” You shook your head, your smile became awkward and your body movement became flustered, what was he talking about, “You are gonna go play with Seokjin.” You pressed a hand on his chest, pushing him back a little, his lips quivering a little and hurt in his eyes as he looked down at your face as if in search, “And I’m gonna go shower.”

You couldn’t stand to look at it any longer before you quickly shut the door, locking it as you groaned, pressing your back against the door. Why did he have to look at you like that…?

“JK! Stop wandering off,” You lowered your voice a little as you tugged him along, your hand in his again as he had been exploring the store, “We’re here for clothes,” You held up the hanger you had in your hands as he frowned. He had been moping ever since you wouldn’t let him shower with you this morning.

Or whatever his intention was. Regardless it didn’t change the fact that he needed clothes and despite being poor you were willing to throw out some money for him, but only because he was so cute.

“Come on, let’s go to the dressing rooms, my arms are getting tired.” You tugged JK along who only pouted, obviously wanting to explore more than get things, but this was kind of a necessity. You gently pushed him into the dressing room, handing him the clothes as he frowned, his eyes looking down at the clothes then at you.

Sighing you groaned, stepping into the small room with him before shutting the door, it wasn’t too cramped but you were uncomfortably close with him, “Okay….umm you obviously don’t understand the concept of trying on clothes so…” You flailed a little before tugging on his sweatshirt, he frowned before his eyes brightened a little.

Understanding the message he pulled the sweatshirt over his head, your face immediately heating as you tried to not ogle his sculpted body which was muscular but slim, his shoulders broad but it suited his delicate small waist.

You now had a good view of the marks that ran up his arms, they curved into a crescent at his hands and ran all the way along his arms, up his shoulders before curving to his back. You had changed his bandages this morning after you got out of the shower and admittedly they had healed a lot faster then you had assumed they would.

Whatever thoughts about his wounds however left your head as you nearly squeaked at the sight of tentacles immediately protruding from his back. Four to be exact, they were of a clear substance for the most part until your eyes followed further to their base where you noticed it matched the glow of his marks.

A subtle pink and JK’s eyes a little bashful as he mumbled, “Bond…” His tentacles stretched forward a little as if in search for you before you squirmed towards the wall, trying your best to not let your horniness get the best of you in this situation.

“U-ummm if you’re asking me to marry you the answer is gonna be no.” You held out the shirt in front of you to act as a semi shield to his advancement. Despite the language and cultural barrier JK seemed to understand your rejection as his lips quivered, his eyes dimming as he lowered them in acceptance.

The tentacles immediately retracting back into his back as delicately took the hanger from you, fumbling to get it off and wow, way to make you feel like a dick. He wouldn’t even look at you as you sighed, relaxing a little as you grabbed the hanger pulling it off for him, “I’m gonna just let you do your business in here if you understand.”

You exited as you grabbed your face, why did you feel so bad for rejecting him? You groaned as you leaned against the wall opposite of his room. Probably because you didn’t fully understand what he was trying to do if you could just speak the same language, and understand why he was here, maybe you wouldn’t have felt so bad.

Seokjin kept saying he wasn’t a baby but...he was just so clueless as to how Earth worked, you couldn’t help it....You sighed as you rubbed your face, you just wished things could be easier. You had an afternoon lecture you needed to go to and you weren’t sure how JK would fair on his own and it admittedly gave you anxiety just thinking about it.

He was curious by nature and you wouldn’t have a doubt he’d get bored easily just stuffed in your little apartment. JK opened the door to the dressing room, his gaze still cast on the ground as he handed the stuff back to you and you could only assume they all fit. You made sure they did because they were all at least two sizes too big for him but hey, they had to be comfy at least.

Neither of you spoke as you paid for his things, holding the bags as you began walking back home, you didn’t like how quiet it was between you both and JK didn’t wander off not once as he let out what sounded like a sad sigh, his eyes looking up towards the sky as he mumbled something in his own language before back towards the ground.

You felt like you kicked a puppy.

You set his things down on the table as you looked towards the clock, you needed to get ready for class and honestly, you were gonna treat yourself to some starbucks after all this crap, “JK,” He peered up at you a little before his gaze became downcast, not looking at you but you knew he was listening, “I have to go to class…” You pointed to yourself, “You...need to stay...home.” You worded it carefully, his lips trembling now and you weren’t sure if he was going to cry or not, “I’ll be back!” You rushed, hurrying to the couch where he sat as you grabbed a remote.

Pulling up Netflix as you shuffled around, deciding to put on a documentary for him on the ocean to keep him busy, maybe his language would improve meanwhile or...or he’d learn something, hell if you knew.

JK frowned, sighing as he lowered his gaze in acceptance, reaching out you sighed, grabbing his face to make him look at you, “I’ll be back.” You spoke, your thumbs tethering over his skin which felt so soft and subtle, almost even more soft than any other person you had ever met, the glow of the TV made that iridescent tone reflect just a little.

He really was the prettiest thing you had ever set your eyes on.

He said nothing before you gave his face a little squeeze before letting him go, pressing play on the TV as he turned to watch, his expression slowly melted from sadness to that curious expression as he tilted his head, a purple glow from the crescents on his hands as he watched in fascination.

You smiled a little before you grabbed your bags and slowly closed the door. You’d just hope he could figure out how to use the remote if he wanted to watch something else.

Class was slow and you couldn’t help but wonder what JK was doing the whole time much to your frustration, you needed to focus on taking notes as midterms were coming up and you would absolutely fail if you didn’t pay attention.

The whole class dragged on for two hours and in order to try and do damage control for your lack of attention you ended up going to the library to study more and make flashcards as you had originally planned before your life fell apart due to an alien binging on netflix back at home.

You eventually got a peace of mind when you pushed your earbuds in and put on music to help you focus. Proud of your work you leaned back in your chair as you sighed in contentment before your eyes finally landed on your phone, not thinking much before your eyes nearly popped out of your head. It was almost seven in the afternoon! Fuck! You’d be leaving within the hour to get to the frat.

Shoving all of your shit back into your bag you hurriedly zipped up before running out of the library, fumbling the whole way home before you entered the house in a rush. Much to your surprise though Seokjin and Jimin were already ready and JK looked happy to be around them both.

What you didn’t expect for what you had bought him to look so good, he was wearing a fitted shirt and jeans, Jimin must’ve let him borrow his leather jacket and those fingerless clothes adorned his hands, “Hey hold still!” Seokjin spoke as he kept combing his hair, obviously styling it up, “I should’ve gone into cosmetology for being this good at turning trash to gold.”

“Not everyone wants to look like Tinky Winky on steroids Seok.” You called out as you plopped your bag down in the ‘study corner’ which you and Jimin invented as a way to justify your laziness and Seokjin had said you both were on thin ice but he’d allow it because he also was lazy.

Seokjin whipped around, those bratz lips of his parting in offense as you shrugged, holding up your hands, not about to apologize for the healthy dose of truth he needed at least once a day.

“Y/n!” JK cried out, immediately running over to you making Seokjin groan as he grabbed your shoulders, frantically checking over you as if making sure you weren’t hurt. You frowned as you looked down at yourself.

“I think he was worried about you.” Jimin was licking a drumstick at the moment while sitting on the handle of the couch, “He wouldn’t stop saying your name when I first got in and he looked like a scared puppy. Had to convince him that it was not a good idea to go look for you like he first suggested.”

“Suggested?” You frowned as you looked back up at the tall boy who immediately cupped your face making you squirm a little, perhaps startled and a little touch starved, “Umm I told you I’d be back…” Not surprised he didn’t understand you but still.

You gently grabbed his wrists, tugging them away from your face as you smiled awkwardly, trying to not think about the fact that this man looked even hotter then before, if that was even possible, “I need to go get dressed.”

“Nope, nu uh, I’m not finished with you.” JK was yanked back with a whine as Seokjin grabbed him by the collar as he had attempted to follow you, much to your relief because you didn’t need another episode of earlier today.

You didn’t take too long to get dressed, choosing to stay casual as you typically would given you didn’t plan of staying long and hey, if all hell broke lose maybe you’d get yourself and JK mcdonalds on the way back.

Pulling the flannel over your shoulders you stepped out of your room, Jimin incessantly jingling his keys as he spoke, “You took too long, we’re gonna be late!”

“You’re late everywhere we go you whore.” You rolled your eyes, grabbing JK’s hand as you all left the apartment, he still seemed a bit confused as to where you all were going but had no complaints as you both sat together in the back of the car which he inspected.

Pressing the button on top of the ceiling only to immediately squint with a whine at the light, you pressed it again turning it off as you looked at him, “Stop touching things.” He pouted a little, choosing to grab your hand as he mumbled something in his own language.

The ride was short and you couldn’t stop dreading what might possibly happen at the party, one scared with JK and it was over, the police would get involved and they would take him off to some lab where he could get tested and poked and prodded and the idea was upsetting to think about. JK hadn’t been here for more then a day and somehow you decided taking him to a party was a good idea?

You crumpled in your seat, looking outside the window as you watched the party rage on in the house. Of course you wanted to avoid your ex but that wasn’t your main worry for the night. Opening the door you stepped out, JK quickly following after you as you called out, “JK...stay with me okay?”

He nodded though you weren’t quite sure if he understood, regardless he seemed happy enough to hold your hand as the three of you entered, the music was blaring and the crowd was big tonight given it was a friday and everyone could cut loose. Not the wildest you had seen but certainly not the smallest. You looked at JK in concern but much to your surprise he only looked around in curiosity as he nodded, “Party?” He asked as he raised his brows.

You nodded, “Yeah, it’s a party.” You called back over the music, looking around for somewhere a little more quiet but Jimin cut in, grabbing JK’s arm, “Hey, we’re playing beerpong and I need to know if he has good aim.”

JK was immediately tugged from you as you glared at Jimin his smile cheeky, “Chill, he’ll be fine, looks like he’s used to this kind of scene. Maybe he’s a space fuckboy. We’ll watch him go relax.” JK looked back at you mildly concerned but you gave him a reassuring smile as you nodded, despite not fully agreeing with it.

Could JK even drink? You felt stressed but then again you did pour rubbing alcohol all over a wound that could have reacted like acid to him, you supposed if he knew something was dangerous he would avoid it, or so you could only hope.

“Bitch! Why haven’t you been answering my messages!?” You jumped at the sight of the blond looking ready to mow you over, Solar’s heels clicked against the ground as she nearly ran for blood at the sight of you.

Cowering a little your lips twisted into a sheepish smile, your best friend glaring down at you and a pout adorning her lips, you hadn’t meant to ignore her texts the whole day but other things had obviously taken precedent. Should you tell her?

“It better be for a good reason.” She pointed at you accusingly before you made your way to the buildable table set out with drinks on it, purposely avoiding the jungle juice you knew for a fact probably had that shitty bang energy in as you grabbed a bottle of benchmark, sure it was cheap and tasted like shit but didn’t that sum up your whole personality?

“Well…” You took a breath, your expression contorting a little as you looked up at Solar who waiting expectantly, why the fuck not? If anyone could keep a secret it was her- hence her promise to Kim Jenny in 5th grade that she wouldn’t tell you that she liked the same boy and ended up helping her ask him out.

Which you only found out about last year in a drunk truth or dare session and you marked your own words that the next time you saw Jenny you'd slap her across the face. Which you ended up not, instead you were still drunk and ended up crying with her because her dog had died earlier that day.

Still, the principle remained, Solar would keep it a secret. Taking a long chug of the mixed drink a warm burn settled in your throat, “I discovered an alien and- he has tentacles that literally fucking explode from his back.”

Solar nearly snorted out her drink as she began laughing, “Girl you watch too much hentai. Seriously, what’s up?” Her laughing died down before an uncomfortable silence sat between you both, your lips quivered only a little as you looked up at her, her expression immediately dropping, “You’re joking…”

“I wish I was Sol…” You took another long drink.

“You’re joking!” She shouted, her lips dropping, “Okay no, tell me everything! Where is it? What does it look like? You better not be pranking me right now…!”

You waved a hand, walking as she quickly followed as you recalled the events of how you found JK and what had ensued in the last 24 hours before you paused at the beerpong table, pointing at JK. Your face warm at the sight of a cocky smirk on his face, obviously his team winning as he landed yet another shot assuming by the sound of the other teams groan.

“That...Y/n…” She turned to you deflating a little at the sight of him, obviously hoping for something a little more...alien like, “You’re such an ass!”

“He is! You just can’t see the shitty avatar cosplay beneath all the clothes! He does have tentacles again, by the way...I am not crazy!” You grabbed your chest in offense, “You wanna know what I’ve been doing the last 24 hours, there it is! Trying to figure out what to do with an alien that keeps trying to bone me.”

“Bone you?” Solar raised her brows before she scoffed a little, her brows raised as she took a sip from her cup, “Thought being a monster fucker was always your thing?” You shoved her a little, making her snort in amusement, again, if you could just figure out what his motive was and...maybe have a decent conversation, “Let's say he is an alien...not that I believe you but let's say he is...what are you gonna do about it? I mean really….?”

You rubbed your head as you frowned, “Well...I don’t know.” you confessed with an awkward expression as she sighed, “I just…! I’m assuming he probably has his own plan…! But generally I’m hoping as he learned english- which is extremely fast by the way- that he’ll eventually tell us what happened and where to go from here I mean…”

You frowned a little, something sad stirring inside you, there was nothing holding JK back from just leaving you all one night when he’s found what he needs, or figures out where to go or...whatever it is he’s doing here, “If he even stays here long enough…”

Solar hummed before tapping her cheek, “That’s it, I’m playing against him, he hasn’t missed a single shot.” You tried to call out to her but it was useless, when Solar was determined, nothing would stop her.

You sighed as you turned away, feeling too much anxiety from watching JK to try and come in further especially if he caught sight of you. JK surprisingly enough seemed as though he had fun a lot of the night, you had stayed curled up in a corner on your phone most of the time brooding while nursing your drink which had admittedly helped you relax a little.

Eventually though, good times always come to an end, this being no exception, “Hey babe, long time no see?” You stared down at your phone, scrolling through instagram as you ignored the sound of Mark’s voice, “Awwh c’mon, don’t ignore me.”

You inhaled sharply, closing your eyes before you put away your phone, looking up at him as you raised a brow trying to ignore your heart racing just a hair, “Can I help you?” You asked, trying to act as if this totally wasn’t freaking you the fuck out.

“You sure can,” Mark flirted, sending you that wink that was the very reason you had spun out in the first place with this guy and god you couldn’t deny his flirty nature always got the best of you, “Me and Lisa were hoping for a third in bed tonight and I thought, what girl would be better than my main girl.”

He smiled, delicately holding your chin with a proud look and for a half a second you had forgotten how much of a bitch he was, that was until your mind lingered on the word ‘main girl’ to which your lips curled slowly, “...Main girl?” You scoffed immediately slapping his hand away as you shouted, “Main girl!? Since when was I the main girl!?” You watched Mark groan as you shook your head, “Uh no! You came up to me! You don’t get to act like this and you were the one that left me in the first place, why don’t you go back to your main girl!”

“God you’re so over emotional-” You didn’t even let the little gaslighting fuck finish before you splashed him with your drink, a scoff escaping him as he raised his brows, “Are you fucking serious Y/n?”

“Yeah, fuck you.” You shoved him before walking out of the kitchen, what a piece of shit! How dare he act all put out when he was the one that approached you, in a total douchebag way at that! You weren’t sure where everybody had went and at this point it was almost ten o’clock and you didn’t care! You just wanted to take a warm shower and go to bed!

You stepped down the stairs of the frat house and into the cool night as as you heaved a breath, scoffing as you rolled your eyes, this was exactly why you hated going to frat parties at Beta Tau now because you almost always ended up in an argument with Mark.

Stupid little fuck. You muttered it to yourself as you wrapped the flannel around you, your eyes warily finding that of a drunk elderly man who definitely appeared in his forties, alone and his eyes immediately finding your lone figure.

You kept your eyes on your phone as you slowly approached in hopes of walking past him, you hated parties, you hated going out at night, you hated the fact that you let yourself get so heated in the moment, “Well aren’t you just looking pretty tonight sweetheart.” You sighed in exasperation at the sound of his voice calling out to you.

“Thanks.” You offered dryly, not even attempting to smile because you knew it would just sound like that much more of an invitation to him and yet, even your singular dry word was enough of a green light to him.

A hand suddenly wrapped around your upperarm yanking you over as you squeaked out, “How about I take you back to my place? Show you a good time yeah?” He reeked of beer and your nose wrinkled as your expression twisted and your hands trembled.

“Sir- I..I really need to get home…” You mumbled, not wanting to provoke him but your fear was getting the better of you by the second as you tried to keep yourself from panicking. You’ve never gone out tonight and you should’ve stood your ground regardless of who went were.

His hands squeezed on your arms eliciting a noise of pain from you and you couldn’t even look at the guy as he growled, “Or I could go home with you sweetheart, or better yet. Why don’t we go over here…! Ow you bitch!” You had smashed his foot with your own but it wasn’t enough for him to let go of you.

Instead his grip only got tighter making you cry out in pain as your eyes stung with tears, wishing he could just let you go...Within seconds though the man was nearly ripped away from you and a larger figure had wedged between you both, “Leave.” It was a one word command that was clear and demanding from JK, you couldn’t see his face and you weren’t sure you wanted too.

JK was shoved back from the guy and taking this as an offense, you nearly jumped back at the sight of tentacles bursting from his back, your eyes bulging at the sight, not a single rip in his clothes as if they were transparent yet a lightening of bright fiery ran streaked through him. Your lips nearly dropped though because they obviously weren’t too transparent as JK used them to slam the guy into a wall with enough force to drive him unconscious.

“JK! Hey! Woah holy shit!” You grabbed your head, JK whipped around, anger still evident on his face but his concern had taken over as he called out your name, what he hadn’t expected as for you to drag him into the alleyway.

Tentacles still gracefully flowing behind him as if they were underwater, your eyes darting everywhere and anywhere for anyone to have possibly seen and yet…! “Don’t you ever do that again!” You hissed, grabbing your head in stress, if anyone saw that…! Anyone it was over! “Someone could’ve see you!”

JK might not have fully understood what you said, but he could understand a few words here and there and your tone of voice, his expression darkening and his lips twitching in anger and disagreement, “Hurt!” He growled back pointing at you.

“I don’t care if I got hurt!” You cried out, running your hands through your hair, anxiety shot through your veins, “You can’t do that!” You pointed at his tentacles, “You aren't human! Humans can’t do that!”

“Hurt!” He growled even louder, now grabbing your forearms in demand, firm enough that you couldn’t pull away but gentle enough that it didn’t hurt, “Y/n hurt!” He emphasized as best he could, his nose wrinkling in frustration as he spoke, “Protect!” It was spoken a little word but you understood overall what he meant.

“Yes you can protect me that’s fine! But you have to act human!” You pointed at yourself, shaking his arm away before forcefully rolling up his sleeve, the marks which were burning red, “Human!” You snapped as you pointed at your own bare arm compared to his, “Not human!” You pointed to JK’s, “You can’t be that careless!”

You were just lucky that the guy was drunk and hopefully wouldn’t remember any of this, JK’s lips twitched as if he still didn’t agree with you, snapping something back in his own tongue as he roughly shoved his sleeve back down before he went on what sounded like a long rant, the tentacles retracting into his back once more as he threw his arms up and you stepped back a little.

You had never heard him so...vocal...or angry before...Which you had brought on yourself, you understood he thought it was the right thing to do and it would’ve been fine had he not decided to get his four other tendons involved. You above anything else, didn’t want JK to be taken from you. JK kept going though in his tongue, directly all of his- what sounded like unpleasant words at you as you crossed your arms, looking at the ground with gritted teeth and ignoring the way your eyes were attempting to blur in tears.

Even if you couldn’t understand him you were positive you didn’t like or agree with whatever he was saying. You fixed your flannel that had been ruffled from the man as you sniffled harshly, trying to ignore the wet warm tears that began trickling down your face. JK had paused from his rant before frowning, watching the liquid trickling down your face as you closed your eyes.

Puffing a breath he sighed, figuring it wasn’t any use in trying to talk to you anyways, Orion tongue was beyond ancient to human civilization which is why he hadn’t bothered trying to say any sort of phrases in his own language.

JK couldn’t stand seeing you like this, from what he observed on- if he assumed he was correct- the TV, humans often depicted this as sadness. Unable to stand this gesture JK did what he had watched, wrapping his arms around you in a form of human affection as he set his chin on top of your head, wetness staining his shirt and he held a silent victorious moment at your reciprocation to his affection. Trying to bond with you had been such a pain in the ass with the language barrier and you almost always looked uncomfortable any time he tried to initiate a bonding session.

True the locations might have been inappropriate but he was excited, he wanted to find a mate and soon, after all that was part of the original plan, even if it wasn’t supposed to be on earth. You had mumbled something he couldn’t quite figure out until you had mentioned the word Home, as in the place you slept. JK nodded, assuming that was where you had intended on going in the first place.

He had caught sight of you leaving the house extremely upset and he wanted to tag along in hope that maybe with some alone time at the house, you’d both finally be able to properly bond, he could feel his scaling warm a bit and he could even spot a tint of pink from beneath his gloves much to his embarrassment.

Knowing this was a human affection JK kept his arm wrapped around you as you both walked home, your hands on your eyes as you sniffled a little and you hadn’t spoken the entire walk back making him a little sad. Your voice was soft and pleasant on his ears which often picked up too many odd and miscellaneous sounds.

Pulling off your flannel you sighed, muttering something that he leaned in a little to focus on understanding, knowing it sounded something like an apology. JK only offered a small smile, “Friend?” He spoke softly, he liked that word, it was the first one you had taught him after all.

You nodded, looking severely tired as you repeated the word back before padding to your room to get changed, little by little JK understood more and more about humanity on Earth which wasn’t exactly new, but rather...a bit archaic by Orionia’s standards.

JK had made sure to go into the room with the odd looking boat to change into clothes, knowing it always elicited an odd reaction from you whenever he changed in front of you. Getting into something more comfortable he could appreciate the human need for comfort.

Feeling a bit timid he peeped into your room where you laid on your bed, looking half asleep but you gestured him in much to his excitement, understanding bonding wouldn’t likely happen now that you were too tired but he appreciated your company, you made things much easier for his stay on Earth.

Pulling out your lap held device JK tilted his head, oh…! This was like the mainboard back on the ship, just a smaller version of it, a computer? But a lap verison? He furrowed his brows a little, the name on the tip of his tongue as his nose wrinkled. Much to his delight though you typed up the same place where he had been watching educational videos earlier today.

He only hoped you’d stay this time, he had been extremely worried the Arbitrator's had found you, your friends however had said multiple times you were just at ‘Class’ whatever that was. And they seemed calm enough and if they knew your routine then...he had no reason to assume they were conspiring with the enemy.

Much to his happiness you laid back down as you stretched out before curling up, your eyes closing as he clicked onto the video of the ocean, as he had learned Earth held quite the exotic lifeform in the sea.

It was nearing 11:30 which you had pointed at the clock earlier today except now it was dark out, JK could only deduce there was certain names for eating at certain times of the day, he tapped on his chin, scrolling down the assortment of human entertainment. Wanting something to figure out how to win your affection to be his mate. A loud piercing screech nearly jolted him out of bed, holding his head as he frantically looked towards you before feeling relief fill him. If you couldn’t hear this then…!

He fumbled as he hurried to the window, pushing through the blinds as he peered out, seeing a large flare being shot up into the sky in a deep hue of blue and purple, that acted as something he saw on a video. A firework, if he remembered correctly. JK perked up, Taehyung and Namjoon must be okay, this was what…? At least ten miles south, in human terms? He remembered that much from the academy.

JK nearly ran out the door before he paused, his eyes looking over your sleeping figure he...he couldn't just leave you here...and…! He perked up, “Y/n!” He called out, jostling you awake as you rolled over with a groan, “Y/n! Home!” He spoke determined, if he could get you to go with him then he could explain everything.

“What? JK seriously? This better be important.” You groaned as your eyes tiredly cracked opened at the sight of doe eyes looking at you urgently, he nearly ripping you out of bed with a squeak, “Home!” He spoke as he brought your shoes to you before pointing out the window, “Home!”

...Oh...oh god, this was going to be a long night, wasn’t it…?

#bts #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x y/n #bts scenarios #alien!jungkook

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bebetae · 4 years ago

Text

angels like you | wong yukhei / lucas

ALL TITLE BANNERS DRAWN AND DESIGNED BY ME. DO NOT STEAL. PHOTOS OF MEMBERS USED ARE NOT OWNED BY ME. CREDIT TO THE RIGHTFUL OWNER.

Part of the playlist series!

Genre: smut, fluff, some angst but not really

Pairing: college!au, brother’s best friend au, badboy!lucas x f reader

Word count: 12k

Synopsis: You’re Mark’s little sister, Lucas’ best friend. With a reputation like his, it’s only natural he wouldn’t want to get involved with you, the innocent girl he’d do anything for to protect. He would ruin you, but maybe you wanted to be corrupted by him.

Rating: 18+ NSFW WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT

Inspired by the song "Angels Like You” by Miley Cyrus

i don’t know why but i was listening to Harry Styles’ entire discography for a majority of my time writing this.

Warnings: corruption kink, smoking, alcohol, swearing, tattoos, mild invasion of personal space, smut, protected sex, oral, semi-public sex, loss of virginity, use of “princess” and “baby” a bit too much

All his life, Lucas knew there was something wrong with him. Not physically or mentally, no. Just a little nagging part of him that, no matter how hard he resisted, always managed to overtake the sensible side of him. He was his own worst enemy.

His fists stayed busy and his chest burned with every drop of alcohol or puff of smoke, all to dull the pain he felt somewhere far deeper than the surface of physical harm. His skin was inked to cope with every heartbreak, a tattooed masterpiece of disappointment and ruined expectations. But life can never be perfect, no one can have everything they desire. Lucas traded attentional satisfaction for the care he really needed. He’ll always be in the center of a crowd of people who know nothing more than his name.

It wasn’t uncommon for people to wonder how he managed to befriend the carefree, humorous Mark Lee, but sometimes opposites attract. In many ways they both needed each other to survive the cruel demands adolescent society imposed on them.

Mark was your older brother by exactly 22 months. Unfortunately, as you would often say. But all jokes aside, he was a good brother who always cared about you. Teased and annoyed you whenever he could, yes, but that’s just what brothers do. What they don’t do, though, is tell their sister that they have a hot new college best friend.

Initially, you were excited to move in with your brother. His old roommate, Taeil, graduated last year leaving his old room to you. But it proved to be a lot harder than you had anticipated, and it was silly of you to think so optimistically.

“Mark, I swear, if I see your dirty laundry on the bathroom floor again I’m going to burn whatever’s there!” you shouted from the first floor, up to the loft area where your bedrooms were located. You did not need his sweat-infused clothes stinking up the entire home.

But, in typical brotherly fashion, he completely ignored you and you received no response. You sighed, flipping off nothing but innocent air as you head to the kitchen to grab your abandoned cup of coffee. You nearly dropped it a second later from the booming voice entering through your doorway.

“Honey! I’m home!” someone cheered exaggeratedly, bursting in like they lived here. Was there another roommate that Mark didn’t tell you about?

A boy came walking in, tall with tattoos covering the expanse of his arms. He let the door shut behind him, took off his shoes, and ran his hands through his hair before he looked up and made eye contact with you. Finally, he realized you were there.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t know Mark had company,”

“That’s my sister you dumbass, I literally told you she was moving in today,” your brother snapped, walking down the spiral staircase down from the loft where the bedrooms were. “You were probably too fucking high to remember,”

“Not true,” the boy defended, walking up to the kitchen island you were sitting at and leaning forward on his arms. “I’m Lucas,”

There was a certain aura exuding off this man that you couldn’t quite place, but in all honesty, it intimidated you. He intimidated you. You waved at him shyly, giving your name and nothing else. Lucas stared at you unemotionally for a second longer, before humming to himself and leaving you to walk up to your brother.

“You didn’t forget about tonight, did you?” he asked, and Mark shook his head.

“How could I forget about the first party of the year?” Mark scoffed, dismissing his friend and spoke to you. “Sorry about him, he doesn’t actually live here. He just knows the passcode,” you nodded your head in understanding, but you had lingering curiosity in you.

“So there’s a party tonight?” you wondered.

“Yeah, and you’re coming,” Mark responded, making your eyes widen at him. Wait, you didn’t ask because you wanted to go. You were just trying to keep the conversation going. “Don’t make that face at me, this is your opportunity of a lifetime! It’s time for your college debut as Mark’s sister,”

“Oh please,” Lucas said, and you both looked over at him slumped against the cushions of your couch. “Don’t be so full of yourself,”

“Yeah, yeah. Be ready in 30,”

You emerged out of your room at the designated time, heading downstairs to find Lucas in his same exact spot, and Mark was nowhere to be found. He didn’t hear you come down at first, and you stood silently for a second, debating whether you should say anything. He was scrolling on his phone, and with the opportunity to study him, you truly noticed how good looking he was.

“Are you just going to keep standing there?” Lucas asked, glancing up from his phone, his eyes immediately landing on you. “I don’t bite,”

You had a feeling that was a lie.

“Uh, where’s Mark?” you asked, trying to force down the blush creeping up your neck. That was embarrassing.

“He went to go get Yuna. She lives down the hall,” he replied, locking his phone and crossing his arms in front of his chest. His stare was strong and had a certain weight to it, crushing down on you.

“Are they dating?” you knew that you should have probably known if your own brother had a girlfriend or not, but the two years that Mark was up in college meant a lot of time spent with little interaction. In that time you had become unacquainted with the happenings of his social and personal life, and you hoped that moving in with him would rekindle the sibling relationship that you two used to have.

“Not really. He likes her, though,” Just then, the padlock made its usual beeping sound and in walked Mark followed by a beautiful girl with a bright smile. You were glad they entered when they did, the conversation with Lucas starting to become unbearably awkward.

Yuna walked in comfortably, giving Lucas a small wave before you caught her eye. She introduced herself to you, grabbing your hand warmly. You could see why your brother liked her, she was both gorgeous, and kindly sociable. You talked to her for a bit, discussing what you were going to be majoring in and such, before it was announced that the four of you were going to leave. You were nervous, but it seemed like you were in good company.

So good, that upon arriving at the party venue, it seemed as if everyone there knew the three of them.

“Ayo, Mark!” a boy called from near the abundance of coolers, his shirt unbuttoned and a drink already in hand. Mark and Lucas head over to him, greeting a group of boys, and Yuna took it upon herself to take you under her wing. She didn’t seem to have anyone who she was concrete friends with, but instead she greeted everyone in an acquainted manner, introducing you to them as Mark’s sister, Y/n. Apparently, the prefacing label was a big deal to them, and soon word was going around that Mark had a little sister, and she showed up looking good.

“So, how did you meet my brother?” you asked Yuna, finding yourself becoming more comfortable talking to her. She seemed like someone you could truly become good friends with, if given the chance.

“Well, we live in the same apartment complex, and we just naturally got close,” she explained. The two of you were sitting next to each other, on one of the small benches surrounding the large bonfire pit in the center, watching the boys play sand volleyball, which was really just them playfully wrestling each other for the ball even if they were on the same team. You had learned some of the names of their friends, but it was hard for you to keep track with the sheer amount of them.

Your conversation fell silent for a brief moment, and your eyes naturally gravitated toward the boy you had yet to grow accustomed to. At some point, Lucas had tossed his shirt to the side and was now showcasing his lean torso.

“And what about Lucas? How did him and Mark become friends?” you asked Yuna, turning to her and seeing her mood shift. A small smile blessed her lips, and she chuckled to herself.

“I’m not quite sure, but they’re really close. They’re like soulmates, those two. Can I let you in on a little secret?” she asked, and your ears perked in interest, nodding your head.

“I might have a little crush on Lucas,”

You swallowed the gasp that almost escaped you. You tried to keep your facial expression neutral, her confession feeling like a punch in your gut. Didn’t Lucas say Mark liked Yuna? Talk about a love triangle.

“Oh,” you replied, a short response. You didn’t say anything about it afterwards, the burden of knowledge making it hard for you to speak on the topic. You felt bad for your brother, but there was another part of you that struggled with the information as well. You couldn’t quite place it.

“I don’t know how to go about anything with that boy, though. He’s not necessarily the most approachable person, if you haven’t noticed,” Yuna continued, her eyes fondly trailing Lucas as he cheered over the point his team had just won.

“Yuna!” someone called from behind where the two of you were sitting, and Yuna apologetically smiled at you and she promised to be back soon. She walked away, and right as she did, someone took her spot.

“Hey beautiful,” the man said, and you looked over at him uncomfortably. You could smell the alcohol on him, but you were too lost for words to ask him to leave, so instead you just politely nodded at him and looked at the sand beneath your feet.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” he asked, taking another swig from the beer bottle in his hand. You still didn’t respond, and he chuckled lowly beside you. There was nothing going through your head. No means to escape, nothing to say to ask him to leave, and you wished you had more self advocacy. You glanced down and watched as his hand was reaching out for your leg, when someone interrupted.

"Time to leave, buddy," you looked up at the voice, and was both surprised yet relieved to see that someone had come to your rescue. Your eyes met Lucas' steely ones, and his expression was unreadable, yet annoyance oozed out of his tone as he spoke again. "And don't fucking touch her,"

"Hey, hey. Relax, we were just having a nice conversation," the man said, throwing his hands up in a surrendering position. He had a shit-eating grin on his face, though, as he watched the boy in front of him progressively lose his patience. This was all a fun, entertaining game for him. "Right, babe?"

One second the drunken man was beside you, the next he was being pulled up by his collar. It seemed like the party had finally taken notice, everyone watching as Lucas, infamous for being non-confrontational, was looking ready to punch his face in.

Normally, he couldn't be bothered by the average dumbass at a party, but here he was, inserting himself into a situation he wasn't a part of whatsoever. He was face to face with the man, his brows furrowed and it took little effort for him to hold the shorter man up on his toes.

"Leave," there was nothing left to be said, and the guests were silent as the man scoffed obnoxiously, yet walked away all the same. You continued to stare at Lucas with a look of bewilderment.

"Thank you," you said, letting him reel you in with the eye contact you began to think was a charming point of his. There was nothing that could help you escape the depth of his eyes, even if the world crumbled around you. But something was different, as if there was a shift in the way he looked at you. There was something there that wasn't present before, and something that had left. He nodded at you, his jaw clenching into a blade illuminated in the burning light of the fire behind him, but he left without a word.

A lot of speculations could be made from that interaction, and it was likely that none of them were true, but people believed whatever they wanted to. And right now, it wasn't hard to convince themselves that something was going on between Mark Lee's best friend, and Mark Lee's sister.

-----------------------------

After just one night, you had become a hot topic with anyone who knew someone that was at the party the day before. Lucas was already a talking point all on his own, and now there was finally someone in his previously empty picture. The secrecy of everything concerning him was what drew so many people in, and finally, after two years, there was something to feed the insatiable hunger everyone craved. Lucas Wong saved you, and apparently it was a big fucking deal. Girls asked one another what it was about you that was so special, while boys snuck glances at each other as if they knew exactly why. All the attention did nothing to curve your shy personality.

For you, while it was clear you had no idea where Lucas stood on this situation, you didn't even know how you felt about it yourself. In one sense, it was pleasantly foreign to have the spotlight on you, but at the same time, you barely knew the guy, and it seemed like no one else did either.

For nearly a week, you didn't catch sight of the boy whose name seemed to follow yours in everyone else's sentences. You didn't know him well enough for there to be a void with his absence, but Mark couldn't say the same.

"Why has he been so flakey lately?" he sighed, hanging up the same voicemail he'd been hearing for days. You avoided looking anywhere near him, knowing there was a big fat elephant in the room. Mark ran his hand through his hair, glancing over at you.

"Look, I know what everyone's been saying, but we both know it's not true, and that's all that matters. Don't feel like you have to hide behind a rumor," you knew he was right, and while you appreciated his advice, it was always easier for you to give in to the shadows. Not everyone could be complacent like him, even his own sister.

Mark could still see the doubt in your face, and he sighed for the umpteenth time that week.

"Do you want to come with me? The boys are meeting up at the freshmen's place," you finally looked over at him, seeing the comforting look on his face. You knew he was trying his best to help you out, which is what prompted you to agree. You might not have wanted to, but you knew you didn't have the freedom to be your old self anymore. It was time for you to break out of your shell.

The house was somewhat big, and Mark explained to you that all the boys in the house were in the same year as you, but they knew some of the older boys from high school, inserting themselves into the friend group. As you followed him up the pathway and to the front door, you thought your heart might explode.

The door swung open, and you recognized the boy from the party last weekend.

"Renjun!" Mark cheered, pulling him into a man-hug. The boy waved at you, an unassuming smile on his face. Maybe you were worrying for nothing.

You walked in, observing the simple house silently, feeling a bit out of place as everyone greeted your brother while you stood next to him. Be social, Y/n. Socializing is key.

You didn't even manage to get a word out before someone walked in and the entire group exploded.

"Well look who actually showed up,"

Lucas closed the door behind him, chuckling at the outburst he caused from his mere presence. Turning to look at him, immediately you noticed that there was something that seemed a little different about him, but you didn't know exactly what had changed.

It was more of a chill, calm get-together rather than a party, just a group of friends all hanging out together. It was a bit unnerving that you were the only girl, and you wished you had brought Yuna along, but no one really seemed to care all that much.

There seemed to be two unspoken requirements to fit in with the group. One, you had to be undoubtedly attractive, and two, you had to have a personality. There were a lot of variations to the second rule. There were less of them than there were at the beach, and it gave you a better chance to get to know a few of them on a more personable level. You found that they made it easy to loosen up around them. You were particularly comfortable around the ones in the same year as you, you and Donghyuck trading banter as you utilized the witty skills you'd developed over years of surviving in the same household as Mark. Jeno laughed hysterically at nearly every response you gave.

You were so preoccupied arguing with the boys about which breed of dog looked most like each boy, that you didn't notice a certain someone slipping away from the congregation room, even when you walked away to find the bathroom Jaemin had only given you vague directions to.

You searched through the doors through the first floor, and you finally stumbled upon the bathroom, and nearly jumped out of your skin when you opened the door to an invasion of smoke. Your first instinct was to think the house was on fire, but you realized someone was in there, none other than Lucas. Predictable.

The cigarette dangled from his fingers lazily, and he didn't even flinch when you unexpectedly burst through the door. He was leaning back against the sink, and he didn't bother to glance at you.

"Oh, sorry. I'll leave--"

"No need, I'm getting out," he interrupted. You watched his long strands of hair fall over his eyebrows as he looked down to put the bud out on the bottom of his shoe, throwing it into the small metal trash can beside him. For the first time since you met Lucas, you noticed he wasn’t trying to meet your eyes. Somehow, it seemed like he was shy in his own minuscule way, or rather, not as bold as he usually seemed.

You remembered thinking that something seemed just a bit off about him earlier that night, and like always, the longer you observed him the more you could see. He was like an intricate painting, with more to discover and unearth with every proper look. Up close, you could see the subtle bags under his eyes, the droop in his shoulders, and the slowness of his movements. He moved to walk past you, but you grabbed onto his arm with an abruptness that surprised even you. His arm in your grip tensed, and he snapped his head to you in mild confusion. You mustered up all your courage just to speak, but you found most of your motivation from your concern.

"A-are you feeling alright? You don't look too well," He said nothing, the thick layer of silence ringing inside of your head. It went on for so long that you almost opened your mouth again to apologize until he finally replied.

"I'm fine,"

And with that, he removed his forearm and walked out briskly. He didn't go back to his friends, simply walking out the door without so much as a goodbye, got in his car, and drove away. The radio was turned off, the air condition was blasting, and Lucas pretended not to notice the tremble in his hands. He ignored the simple fact of what had just happened.

You were the first person to ask how he was doing. Not what he was doing, not who he was doing, you wanted to know if he was feeling okay. You did something no one else had before. You saw straight through him.

When you had emerged back from the bathroom, you immediately identified the missing person who seemingly left. You couldn't say you were surprised, but you were admittedly a bit disappointed. Clearly he had lied to you, but maybe it wasn't your place to ask such a question in the first place. You had to keep reminding yourself that you were in no position to care about a guy you just met.

And you thought that would be enough confrontation to last you a good month or so, until you sat in the passenger's seat of Mark's car and was thrown another curveball.

"Why did Lucas leave like that?" your brother asked, not even turning the engine on. He just sat there, staring straight forward at the wheel in front of him. Your breath snagged in your throat, being thrown completely off guard.

"I don't know,"

"Come on, sis. I know you two must have ran into each other. Don't you think I deserve to know?" He was right, of course, and you knew in reality nothing really came out of the interaction, so why were you so hesitant to say anything to him?

"I don't know what you're expecting me to say, but nothing happened. He was in the bathroom when I opened the door, he walked out, and I didn't know he left the house until I came back out," A small part of you was annoyed that you even had to explain yourself to him. "So if you want to know why he left, you can go and ask Lucas yourself,"

Mark was silent for a moment, as if debating between trusting your word or not.

"You know, I don't want you to think I'm judging you, because I'm not. If you say nothing happened, then I believe you. The only reason I'm asking is because I care, Y/n,”

He rested his head on the back of his seat, settling something within himself.

“I know he’s my best friend, and I love him like a brother, but at the end of the day, he’s not. He’s not my brother, you’re my sister, and that means I have to start learning how to remember that sometimes. This is me remembering, right now.” He looked over at you, for the first time since he started the conversation, the look on his face more serious than you’d ever seen it in your entire life. Gone was the normal, happy, laughing Mark. This was a part of him that hadn’t appeared until now.

“Lucas isn’t right for you, Y/n. I don’t know if you need to hear that or not, I don’t know if there really is absolutely nothing going on, but he just can’t. He can’t be the one for you. And I know how everyone else idolizes him, they put him up on this big fucking pedastal and somehow erases all other aspects of him, but I know him too well. I’ll always see him as a good friend, but I just couldn’t sit by if he pursued my little sister. Promise you won’t involve yourself with him,”

“Okay, Mark. Okay,” you whispered, getting the message. The car was started and you finally started heading home, but it was silent the entire time, neither of you having anything else to say. You were left to your conflicting thoughts, trying to erase any ounce of infatuation you may have initially had. If only it was as easy as it sounds.

-----------------------------

You couldn’t miss the staggering amount of dirty looks you received throughout just one day on campus. It was bad enough that you were associated with Lucas, but now you were parading around with his friends, too. And if you didn’t have a big fat crush on the notorious bad boy, you liked one of his many, many friends. It didn’t blow over very well with the female student body.

“I just don’t understand why I’m the bad guy,” you complained, stirring your coffee miserably. You were seated in the campus cafe with your usual companions, Jeno, Jaemin and Donghyuck, and they only looked at your tortured state with amused expressions.

“It’s the curse of having handsome friends,” Donghyuck boasted, making a cocky face.

“I do? I don’t see them,” you made a show of searching the restaurant around you, cracking their egos just a bit. But not enough, because all of you knew you were lying.

Jeno heaved a big sigh next to you, and everyone turned to the boy as he stared down at his phone.

“Uh, what’s wrong?” Jaemin asked, treading into the world of boyish angst.

“It’s pineapple,” Jeno replied, and his two friends gave understanding nods. You looked around at the three of them confusedly, laughing outright.

“You guys have code names? What is this, middle school?”

“Hey! Don’t judge us. We never know who may be listening,” Jeno defended, but his cheeks were slightly tinged with pink. He looked around, dramatically searching the premises, before motioning everyone to lean in close so he could whisper. “Lina’s back seeing that stupid guy, you know, the one with the crusty hair. Rumor has it she’s going to be at the party tomorrow,”

It truly amazed you how these boys could go to parties every single weekend, the four of you only two months into college and they had already adopted the college party lifestyle. You couldn’t say the same yourself, claiming more rainchecks than attendances.

Donghyuck and Jaemin looked at each other for a split second, a silent conversation happening between the two, before they turned back.

“We have a plan,” Donghyuck stated, an excited grin on his face. “You need to make her jealous,”

“And how exactly would I do that?” Jeno asked, looking at his friends blankly.

“Ah, must you be so incredibly dense?” Jaemin sighed, speaking to his friend in a slow, baby-addressing tone. “Get a girl, act like you’re okay without pineapple, make her realize the mistake she made, problem solved!”

“Who should it be, though? Any girl I ask would probably get too into it,” Jeno reasoned, and you nodded your head in agreement. You didn’t expect the two boys in front of you to slowly turn their heads towards you.

“Me?” You must’ve been too loud, because the three shushed you like you were still in a bubble of confidentiality. You rolled your eyes, bringing your voice down to a whisper again. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I don’t necessarily have, how do I say this, the skills to do this,”

“Oh please,” Jaemin scoffed, looking over at you. “You’re the ‘it’ girl. Who better to make Lina jealous?”

“It’s pineapple,”

You found yourself at the party. How pathetic. This was so unlike you, but then again, the person you used to be didn’t quite feel like you anymore. If your childhood friends saw you now, they would surely question if you were truly the girl they used to know. You tried to tell yourself that it was a good thing, your daily mantra. It was already a bit into the swing of the party when Donghyuck appeared in front of you and Jaemin near the drink table, looking as if he had just run a marathon to get to you.

“She’s here, operation fruit salad is underway,”

Jaemin abandoned his cup on the table and grabbed your shoulders, pushing you frantically toward the living room where your partner in crime stood nervously. You felt bad for Jeno, who looked like he was ready to abandon ship, and you grabbed his hand comfortingly. Time to put on a show.

The girl you assumed to be Lima walked through the archway leading away from the foyer entrance, and Donghyuck used his loud voice to call over the noise of the party.

“Truth or dare, losers!”

When the four of you were mapping out the plan, you had asked them if this could completely backfire and random people started playing the game instead of Lina, but they quickly shut down your concerns. Apparently, for the past four years, it was an unspoken rule that truth or dare concerning their group was pretty much exclusive, and everyone knew whether they were welcome or not. You were skeptical, as it seemed too hierarchic to be true, but here you were, sitting between Jeno and Jaemin, looking around at the participants and realizing they were right. You recognized every single face in the group, which really said something considering you made no efforts to befriend anyone else.

You all situated yourselves in a circle, carelessly taking up most of the space in the living room, drawing a bit of attention from the other guests. It was like a TV show, the way there was an audience. Donghyuck searched around for his first prey, assuming everyone who wanted to play had sat down, when he was interrupted.

“Wait, I’m playing too,” Lucas cut in, sitting himself down next to Taeyong who looked over at him surprised, as did everyone else. Jeno leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“He never plays, this is his debut,” You giggled at his choice of words, and you glanced to the side to make sure Lina was paying attention to the two of you. She darted her eyes away, and Jaemin nudged your knee so he could throw a thumbs up discreetly between the two of you.

“Yuta, truth or dare?” Donghyuck started, a mischievous grin on his face. It seemed like anything Yuta picked, he’d have something interesting in store for him.

“Dare,” Yuta said unconfidently.

“Hm, I dare you to jump into the pool, right now,”

“Not the pool,” Yuta pleaded. “We haven’t cleaned that thing in like a year,”

“Dare’s a dare,” the group chorused synchronously. The poor boy sighed, emptying his pockets and dashing towards the sliding door out to the back, everyone cringing yet cheering as he made a large splash in the discolored water. He returned with a towel wrapped around him.

The game continued, various dares committed and secrets dished out, and it had yet to be your turn. You weren’t missing in action, though, progressively getting more into the character you needed to play. You and Jeno must’ve been pretty convincing, because even some of the other boys were giving the two of you spare glances. You hoped this was working, because it took a lot to sell it.

Wrapped up in the act, you didn’t notice someone giving a few more looks than most. Lucas couldn’t help but watch you as you touched Jeno’s arm, or leaned into him in laughter, or let him whisper something to you. He felt nothing, nothing nagging with annoyance or jealousy, just plain interest. If he had nowhere else to look, his eyes would always find you. Somehow, he could tell there was more to it than everyone may think.

Doyoung had just finished taking a shot of whatever mixture Ten had concocted for him, gagging a bit but forcing it down impressively. Then, Doyoung’s attention turned to Lucas himself.

“Truth or dare,”

“Truth,” Lucas decided nonchalantly, a few sounds of disappointment sounding through the crowd. There was a notable increase in size of people watching the events unfolding, bringing a greater amount of pressure to each of the players. They were all waiting for the main event happening right now.

Doyoung thought hard for a good moment, trying to decide just what question would be deemed worthy to ask Lucas, even corresponding with Johnny, claiming he needed to ‘phone a friend’. While everyone else was on the edge of their seats, Lucas was unphased by the suspense of it all.

“Okay, okay. Who in this room--literally anyone--do you hate the most?” The rumble of murmuring sounded about the crowd, everyone curious to get even a little bit of insight into the mind of the boy that seemed to feel nothing. Lucas didn’t ponder for even a second before he responded.

“Myself,”

The party went silent, everyone letting his answer sink in. A chill ran through you, and you looked at the boy sitting directly across from you with pity. Maybe he was just a pretty face with a broken soul. You knew there was something in him, something behind his many closed doors, and maybe you were finally starting to dive deep into it. Despite trying to step away from his black hole, the fleeting insight he gave only worked to suck you back in.

In contrast to the reaction he received, Lucas seemed calm, as always, leaning forward onto with his forearms resting on his knees.

“My turn, right?” he asked, Doyoung nodding, and Lucas took one hand and rubbed it on his chin in thought. His head was tilted downwards, but his eyes snapped up to meet yours.

“Y/n, truth or dare?”

The entire party was hanging on a thread, everyone holding their breath in either anticipation or shock. He made an otherwise unexpected move, yet it was so predictable it wasn’t a surprise once you thought it over. You could see in his eyes that he was trying to see how you would react, and you were determined not to give in to the intensity. You would meet him up there even if you were scared inside.

“Dare.”

The thickness of the air was stifling, yet you felt like it was the first time in your life that you were breathing. Right then, you were alive.

Lucas smothered the twitch in the corner of his lips, keeping his cool. He liked where this was going.

“I dare you to kiss me,”

Check mate. That was his killing move, and it was at your expense.

“Absolutely not,” Mark declared, shutting down the idea at first mention. He looked between the two of you, at everyone watching, and no one barely gave him a second glance. It wasn’t about him, it was about the two of you.

All of your surroundings faded away. All you could see was Lucas, and all you could hear were your thoughts. He was testing you. It was time for you to make your next move. He was the king, but you were the queen. His single move would drown in the leaps you could make across the expanse of the chess board.

You stood, walking over to him and squatting down to meet him face to face. Your arms were slung lazily in front of you, making no move to touch him, and you simply stared at him. He narrowed his eyes just slightly, waiting for you to do something. Anything.

You tilted your head, brushing your fingers through your hair, letting the eye contact sit in the pocket of silence. You should’ve been scared, you should’ve been too shy to do any of this at all, but there was no hesitation in you. The spontaneity of it all fused with the adrenaline to create the perfect storm of a vixen in you.

You looked down at his lips, back up to his eyes, leaning in for the moment everyone had been waiting for. Lucas held his breath, an action only you could hear, and your hooded eyes watched his as they closed. Your lips reached out for his, closer and closer, until they didn’t. You stopped, just millimeters separating the two of you, delaying what he had been sitting there for in the first place. When he only felt your breath on his lips, his eyes slid open, realizing just what had happened. He was caught waiting for a kiss that never came.

Lucas knew what you were doing. He knew full well, yet he still couldn’t accept it. He came into this thinking it would work out for him, and he didn’t expect for you to take the reins, but now that you were, he smiled. He could have gotten annoyed, he could have given up and walked away, but he smiled and chuckled to himself. Right in your face, he laughed, before giving in and crashing his lips into yours himself.

You outplayed the game master.

A lot of things happened in a very short amount of time. Mark walked out of the room, the crowd cheered, and your lips were sealed against none other than the man of the hour himself. They were surprisingly softer than you had anticipated, and the thought made you smile into him, and you knew he wasn’t as hard and tough as he always tried to be. He nipped your bottom lip before pulling away erotically slow.

“I thought you said you didn’t bite,” you whispered, and that was all it took for Lucas to jump onto the train that led straight to you.

-----------------------------

You only realized where you went wrong once you had returned to the right headspace. Your high came crashing down much too quickly. Actions come with consequences. The morning after everything happened was not pretty. It never was.

“Mark, I’m sorry! Technically I wasn’t even the one that kissed him,” You were trying to explain yourself to your brother, and you hoped that his usual forgiveness would show now. You knew you went against what he had asked, but why was it so wrong?

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Y/n. I just want you to know what you’re really getting yourself into. It was for you,” He was getting frustrated with the way you were interpreting all of his attempts to aid and guide you, and he didn’t want to seem like the bad guy.

“It’s my choice in the end, Mark.”

“Fine then, go and do whatever you want. I don’t care what you do. Go and live it up! Let me know how it goes when you come back down from the clouds, okay?”

You scowled at him, and you wanted to just explode and get all of your anger out at him, but a knock sounded on the door. You gave him one last look before answering it. You wished you didn’t.

The last person you expected on your doorstep was Yuna, but there she was, standing there with a sad look on her face. Right when your brain registered that it was her, your heart broke. You forgot about the new friend you had just made, and it finally caught up to you. Mark had been planning to ditch the scene and go back into his room, but she was the only reason he stayed.

“You knew,” she scolded. She wasn’t yelling, but the pained, motherly tone of her voice seemed to hurt you even more. “You knew yet you still did it,”

Yuna hadn’t been at the party, having been at a volleyball conference, and you wondered how she found out. It didn’t matter, but you wished you could have escaped without being caught red handed, just to make things easier.

“Yuna, I’m so sorry--”

“No. You don’t get to apologize. You knew I liked Lucas,”

And that was the final nail in the coffin. You turned to look at your brother, horrified that he just heard that entire thing. His face was dejected, and he shook his head in defeat.

“I can’t fucking believe this,” He ascended the stairs with nothing left to say. You turned back to Yuna, and you could see something flash in her eyes. Was it realization? It must have been, because she gave up on speaking to you, retreating back down the hallway in shock.

You stood there, frozen, unable to recuperate from the dumpster fire blazing around you. And you shouldn’t have, but if everyone had the right to be mad at you, then you figured you deserved a way to cope with it.

“Hello?”

“Lucas, can I come over?” you asked into the receiver, your voice shaking from the nerves. You had asked Jeno for his number, getting a couple smirking emojis back in response. “I’m sorry, I just need somewhere else to go right now,”

You were scared of the response you were going to get, but you couldn’t think of anywhere else you could bear being right then. There was brief silence from his side, and you began to grow anxious as you pressed the button to the ground floor inside the elevator.

“Hello? Lucas?”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m driving there right now. Just wait for me,”

He was making it harder and harder to resent him every second you spent around him. Lucas was dangerous, a contagious plague that infected you. When it came to him, you never wanted to be so bad.

He pulled up to the curbside of your building in just a few minutes, and on the quiet ride to his own apartment, you realized that all this time he had been living relatively close. You wondered why him and Mark didn’t live with each other instead. No words were exchanged, but Lucas felt how upset you were. He wanted to tread lightly, to make sure he didn’t mess anything up, quite a change of pace as to when he didn’t care much at all.

There was something in him that was changing, and for the time being, maybe he was okay with it. Harm was something he had grown to coexist with, so what was one more trial run for the books? If it didn’t work out, then he’d figure it out from there. If it did, well, then he’d figure it out from there with you by his side, instead. Either way he’d trek on like he always does.

His living space didn’t look much like you expected it to, a small studio apartment with everything he needed all in one room, accompanied by a bathroom. He kept it mostly clean, with a few things laying around here and there, and it was cozy. Somehow it felt familiar to you, even if you’d never been there before.

“What happened?” he asked softly, gesturing for you to sit in one of the two chairs at his small kitchen island, but you declined his offer, so he stayed standing, too.

“I think I fucked up,” you replied, looking at him with eyes that didn’t want to cry, but brimmed with tears anyway. Your lips were forced into a deep frown, even when you tried not to. It seemed like everything you told yourself not to was what you ended up doing these days.

“Come here,” he whispered. You didn’t hesitate to walk forward into his arms, finding yourself wrapped in his comfort for the first time. He was warm and sturdy against you, his long arms linked around you as he rested his chin on the top of your head. He wondered if what he was doing was right when you cried into his chest, but it was perfect. You two stayed like that for far too long, until the tears stopped falling and your breathing went back to normal, but he didn’t make a move to let you go, because if he did, he wouldn’t know what to say. He was never good with words.

It had been a while since Lucas had felt right, but he found himself sinking into your pain in a beautiful, comforting way. He was beginning to think it was time to find a reason to stick around for a while.

Lucas Wong was bad news, and everyone loved it. They ate it up like a buffet. Everyone except you. You knew the side of him that no one else got to see, making him far more of a heartbreaker than they could even imagine.

Lucas would be lying if he said he wasn’t sexually attracted to you. There were a lot of things he was dishonest about in life, but his infatuation with you was something left outright on the table. You had an affect on him, and it drove him mad.

Quite honestly, you had a lot of nerve to spend most of your time with Lucas. You knew this, yet you couldn’t stop yourself. He didn’t exactly make it very difficult to stay, anyway.

“I like this one the best,” you told him, pointing at the smaller, more modest of his tattoos right on his mid-forearm. It was an animation of a small sakura flower, the innocence of it greatly contrasting the imagery of the many tattoos that seemed to overwhelm the first impressions people had of Lucas.

“You haven’t even seen them all, yet,” he remarked, looking down at you as your head was laid against his chest, the two of you staring up at his ceiling as he played with your hair. In the many moments you got to share with him recently, you realized that what seemed like lack of emotion in him was really just the numbness he seemed to find himself stuck in. But in some sparks of light at the end of the tunnel, he’d pull everything together and tell himself that it was okay to feel when it came to you.

“You have more?” you asked, grabbing the hand that wasn’t running along your scalp and observing the tiny tattoos on his knuckles. You smiled back at the smiley face on his middle finger.

“Try sit up for a second,” he requested, and you turned to face him as he began pulling his shirt over his head. You remembered his bare torso from the beach all those months ago, but now seeing it up close, there was a big, gorgeous drawing of a dragon across the entirety of his back.

“I take it back, this one is my favorite. Wait, no. It’s the flower. Definitely the flower,” He laughed at your indecisiveness, but enjoyed the small graces of attention you were giving him. Lucas found that he liked when you complimented him.

“You’re my favorite,” he replied, turning his body around to bless you with a short, deep kiss.

“That was so cheesy, especially for you,” you criticized, but you let yourself lean in to repeat the action. He loved your lips, the way you let him take control, the way you tried to merge yourself with him. He thinks he’ll never grow tired of it.

Things can always escalate quickly with Lucas, you found, and soon you were being pressed into the mattress as he kissed you with his forearms straining to hold himself above you. He had one knee slotted between your legs, and he pulled away to look down at you and the way your lips swelled from his assault.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmured, his black bangs swaying back and forth as he tried to get his breathing under control. The knowledge that you left him breathless was incredibly rewarding. He smiled right back at the silly grin on your face. “The fucking things you make me want to do to you,”

“Then do it,” you begged, desperate to submit yourself to the mercy of him. You wanted him to show you how to dirty yourself, your innocence. You were so far deep now, why not go top speed down the path to destruction? Maybe you’d get some fun and pleasure out of it, too.

“Don’t ask for what you can’t handle,” Lucas warned, using every ounce of little self control in him to not fully indulge in you. He was scared you’d break.

“I’ve never been fucked before,” you stated, the filthy words feeling a bit foreign on your tongue. You liked it. “Is that too scary for you?”

Lucas felt like a little kid in a candy store. He always did when he was with you, but this time, he didn’t have any parents making sure he didn’t grab everything he could get his hands on and run. He was let loose to his own devices.

“I’m going to ruin you,” he groaned, but it wasn’t a threat. Even better, he was simply stating a fact. That brought a chill down your spine. “Are you sure you want this? I need to hear you say it,”

“I want this, Lucas. Please, please,”

Lucas didn’t even kiss you again before he helped you take your shirt off, the impatience and pent up sexual frustration eating away at him far too much to take it slow. He wanted to chip away at your foundation until you dropped down to the level he wanted you to be. The level he stood at where he needed to be inside of you. Yesterday.

You whimpered his name as he forced your bra off, tweaking one of the buds with his thumb and watching with fascination as you jerked and melted at the simple touch. He was about to have a lot of fun with you.

Lucas switched the two of you in position, dragging you on top of him and flipping you over so your back was resting against his chest. You sat between his legs, covered in the sweatpants you loved on him, and he wrapped his arms around your torso to pull you closer.

“Take everything off,” he whispered in your ear, and you complied quickly as he praised you for being so compliant. You couldn’t even feel any shame or shyness as you left yourself naked for him to see, too adamant on feeling good. You just wanted to know what it was like, and Lucas turned you on more than you ever thought possible.

“Have you ever touched yourself, princess?” he asked, and you shook your head. Lucas hummed sweetly, softly taking your right hand in his and guiding it down to the place you needed to be touched the most. He hovered your fingertips, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off of your slicken heat, before he pressed them against the wetness you felt pooling inside of you. You closed your thighs together, embarrassed at the fact that you were touching yourself so provocatively.

“Tell me what you want, baby. Do you want me to do it for you?” he asked, his voice dripping with something sweet even when he was insinuating such a naughty act. You nodded, but it wasn’t enough to make him give you what you wanted. “Use your words, Y/n,”

“I want you to touch me,” you whimpered, face reddening and you wondered if you would ever be able to recover from the shame you were feeling.

“Where do you want me to touch you?” he asked, spreading your legs apart again and hooking your right leg with his so you wouldn’t be able to close them again. You grabbed his hand, switching roles as you pressed his hand onto your welcoming cunt.

“Here. I want you to touch me here,”

And with that, Lucas ran his long, cold fingers through your folds, enjoying the relieved sigh you let out. The pad of his pointer finger tapped lightly against your clit, in a surprising movement that made you jerk against him. He groaned as you created friction against his growing hard on.

“Lucas, oh my god,” You were lost in the pleasure, the intensity of it somehow amplifying as you were prevented from squirming much in his hold. He rubbed firm circles on your clit, letting you thrash and moan against him.

“Does it feel good?” You nodded against him, your eyes shut tightly, but they flew open when you felt him begin to press a finger inside your hole.

“I love being the only one to touch you,” he panted, his raspy voice going straight into your ear and down to your gushing pussy. “I want to ruin you for every other guy. But I won’t need to, right? I’ll make you feel so good that you’ll always come crawling right on back to me,”

You liked the sound of that, reaching a hand behind your head and grabbing the hair right above his neck. You wanted to hold onto him, ground yourself as he promised to make you never let go. His single finger pumped in and out of you as the heel of his palm dug into your sensitive bud. He loved the sound of you chanting his name. Lucas loved everything about you.

“Fuck, you can barely take another one,” Lucas groaned, managing to after some effort press another finger into you. The stretch was delicious although a new feeling for you, but you would take anything Lucas had to give.

“But I can take your cock, I’ll be a good girl,” you mindlessly rambled, your mind already far away from where your body was getting pleasured. You used your fastly diminishing strength to look down, the stark black ink of his tattoos standing out prominently against your skin as the muscles and veins in his forearms tensed with each movement geared towards bringing you to your impending climax. His unoccupied arm snaked up to your mouth, and you slackened your jaw so he could insert a couple fingers inside, sucking on them eagerly before he pulled them away.

“Good girl, you’re so good for me princess,” he praised, nipping softly on your earlobe. You could barely hear the things he was whispering to you, a ringing in your ears as you struggled to buck your hips up. His fingers reached deep inside of you, curling to press against your sensitive walls. High pitched whines fell from your lips and you were clenching around him, and he shuddered at how tight he could tell you were.

“Come for me,” Watching you squirm above him was beginning to affect him. Lucas’ feet, which were planted on the mattress, pressed harder into the bed to apply pressure and grind his erection against you.

Your grip on his hair was harsh and you reached down to grab his arm with the other. Your legs shook against him and Lucas admired the way you molded into him. Your high exploded, white flashing behind your eyes as waves and waves of pleasure coursed through you and he helped ride you through it. By the time your eyes refocused and your head cleared, Lucas had let up on his ministrations and was hugging you from behind, calming you down with small whispers.

“You did so good, princess. So good,” he spoke into your hair. He was so soft for you, conceding to all of your demands even if he desperately wanted to relieve himself as well. You realized this, and knew you wanted to do the same for him. Still trying to recover from the mind blowing orgasm, you used actions instead of words and reached down to tug at the waistband of his sweatpants. He kicked them off urgently, and you noticed that he wasn’t wearing underwear the entire time.

You flipped yourself over on shaky limbs, sitting with your legs tucked underneath you on the bed and you got to see his dick for the first time. Or any dick, really. It was red and rock hard, precum leaking off the tip, and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to lightly touch the head. He sucked a harsh breath in, trapping his lip between his teeth and he grunted softly under his breath.

“I kind of want to, uh, can I suck you off?”

Lucas thinks his heart stopped for a second. You were looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes, and he knew he was done for. He said he wanted to ruin your expectations of all men who followed him, but once again, he ended up the fool. He could only hope that you would stay with him, for as long as you could, so he wouldn’t have to look or touch another girl and see your face staring back at him in his head.

“As much as I want that, I might come in your mouth after like, 30 seconds, and I don’t think either of us want that,” He closed his eyes, fighting his natural instincts, as he was never one to pass up a blowjob, but like he said. Lucas needed to be inside of you.

“I’m ready, Lucas,” you pleaded, and he rushed to lay you down and return to his position above. Your muscles were already weak and you appreciate him letting you relax as he pumped his cock a few times, hissing from the sensitivity. You admired the sight and pushed your hips up slightly, searching for attention. Lucas chuckled, pushing your waist back down harshly.

“Don’t be a brat. Take what I give you,” he scolded, and you didn’t try to do it again. His tone was too demanding. Lucas could see the shame in your eyes, and his hard expression softened. He cupped your cheek softly and pressed the lightest kiss to your lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered back.

Lucas reached over to the side of his bed and grabbed a condom from inside the drawer. Tearing the package open with his teeth, he rolled it on his length and glanced up at you as he lined his tip with your entrance.

“Tell me if I need to stop,” You nodded, and the nervousness came back to hit you like a truck. It was finally dawning on you that you were about to lose your virginity.

Lucas started trying to push in, intruding your folds, but his cock was getting rejected by your walls. You were clenching so hard that he couldn’t push himself in.

“Y/n, you have to relax,” he cooed, stroking your hair and bending down to press soothing kisses to your neck. “You’re clenching too hard, princess,”

Although Lucas knew he needed to loosen you up, it excited him a bit too much at the prospect of how tight you would be when he’d finally fuck you properly. You sighed from his soft, sweet attention as he continued to kiss your fear away. You thought about how good he was going to feel, how much he was going to fill you up, anything to excite you. Pulling yourself together, you eased your tense muscles and reached down to wrap your gentle hand around his length, coaxing him toward you.

Lucas sighed in relief, pressing himself back up with his elbows locked strongly in place. He let you line him up, and marveled at the fact that it was finally happening. He pushed forward, inching slowly and slowly until you clenched around only half of his cock. He was panting heavily, out through his mouth, pupils blown out as he looked down at you intensely. The pain of the intrusion made you grimace, and Lucas talked you through it as you got used to the stretch.

Your walls were captivating and Lucas thought he was somewhere far higher than where he’d ever been. You were roping him back up from the depths below, his angel sent from heaven. The angel he was corrupting. The girl he was watching fall into the palm of his hand, even if he was the one wrapped around your finger.

“Lucas, fuck me,”

So he did. He would do anything you asked. Starting off slow, he continued to work his length into you until you took nearly all of him, and you both moaned at the feeling. You felt good enough to cry.

As he could tell you got more and more adjusted, Lucas increased his pace with every pleasured moan you let out. He sat back on his heels, grabbing your hips and pulling you towards him so he could properly piston in and out of you. Each time he bottomed out he used his biceps to pull you into him, just a little bit more so he knew you could feel him right where he wanted you to. Your eyes were shut and your hands were grabbing desperately at the sheets.

“You take me so well, fuck, you’re fucking perfect. Your pussy’s so perfect,” Lucas was trying to talk so his mind would stay present, so he wouldn’t get lost in the pleasure. He wanted to feel everything. He wanted to remember this for the rest of his life. You opened your teary eyes and moaned at the sight in front of you, the sweat dripping down his body and down the ridges of his abs, eyes trailing lower and lower past his v-line and finally resting on where he was pounding harshly into you.

“I knew you would feel so good,” he growled, his head spinning and he was slipping away from the control he wanted. Lucas was quickly approaching the threshold dividing himself between guiding you through your first time, and fucking you until you cried and begged him to stop.

With this thought in mind, Lucas kept his pace as he began rubbing circles into your clit, succeeding in feeling you orgasm around his dick, shaking below him. Moans of his name were the only thing coming out of your mouth, loud and wanton and you briefly wondered if he would receive a noise complaint. It wasn’t a concerning thought, instead, you felt proud. You were the one getting fucked into the mattress, and you wanted everyone to know it.

Lucas slowed his pace until he came to a stop, pulling out of you and flipping you over.

“Get on all fours,”

He had officially crossed his inner boundary line. After making you come on his cock, Lucas had no other goal in his mind than doing it again. And again, and again, and again.

He kept his promise, sinking into you from behind and coming with you as you reached your second climax. Then he made you ride him as he got to watch you make those pretty sounds of yours, and when you got too tired he held you up and thrust into you from below. All night Lucas fucked you enough times to rid you of your innocence, and you knew you’d want this life forever.

-----------------------------

“Come on, you have like two weeks to finish this paper. Just get in my car, Y/n,” Lucas whined, but at a softer volume so the rest of the library couldn’t hear him be the big baby he was whenever he was around you. He still had a reputation to upkeep.

“Just think about it, once I’m done, I can spend as much time with you as you want,” you said, not even glancing away from the screen of your laptop. You had a look of concentration and you bit your lip absentmindedly, when Lucas suddenly cupped your chin and turned you to face him.

“Well if you’re going to keep typing away at your goddamn computer, then I need something to do, too,” He grabbed your bag from off the ground and forced your computer into your hands, grabbing your arm and leading you away from the table before you could even ask where he was taking you. Lucas navigated the many circular tables littered around the large building until he reached the individual self-study rooms, opening one of the unoccupied doors and closing it behind the two of you.

“Sit,” he ordered, placing your bag beside the chair you placed yourself in. Your heart was beating rapidly, wondering where he was going with this. Standing on the opposite side of the table, he gave you a mischievous smile before lowering himself down with a playful wave, disappearing out of sight of you, and anyone who might look through the window only high enough to show you everything above the upper half of your torso. You tried to keep a straight face as you spoke to him blindly.

“Lucas, don’t you fucking--,”

You felt his hands rubbing your upper thighs, and he shushed you.

“Be quiet, baby. And act normal, you have an audience,”

He could feel you shudder as he flipped up the short skirt you were wearing, the one that made him fantasize about this very moment, and didn’t hesitate before he rubbed you through the thin material of your panties. You sucked in a breath, giving a paranoid look out the window as you subtly sunk yourself down in the chair to give him better access.

“Good girl,” was all he said before he occupied his mouth with licking a stripe up the damp fabric, several times before he was satisfied with the small whimper you let out. He told you he wanted you to be quiet, but he was lying.

Pushing your panties to the side, Lucas was met with the wonderful sight of your glistening folds. He kissed your heat at first, hiding his tongue from you, and only when you began to squirm in your seat did he sink his tongue into your hole. Your fists clenched and you pretended to open up one of your textbooks in front of you so you could appear preoccupied, your teeth biting your tongue harshly trying not to make a sound. These walls weren’t soundproof to the outside.

Lucas, however, was making all the noise in the world, humming lightly into you and the sloppy sounds of him fucking his tongue into you weren’t very discreet. He was determined to make you come on his mouth, and he would take all of it and still want more.

Leaving your entrance, Lucas moved up to torture your neglected clit, sucking and swirling around it with his mouth. As much as you didn’t want to get caught with his head between your legs, you weren’t planning to make him stop. The entire atmosphere and risk of it all was probably what made the build up to your orgasm so quick.

“Lucas, I’m going to come,” you scream-whispered, and although you couldn’t see him you could feel the smirk radiating from underneath the table.

“Well go on then, that’s what I’ve been trying to make you do all fucking week,”

You clamped a hand over your mouth as you moaned into your palm, closing your eyes and focusing on the pleasure he was giving to you. Gone was the window, and the people quietly getting their work and reading done outside, and suddenly it was only you and Lucas. He was the only one in your present world.

Lucas groaned at the way you gushed for him, not stopping until he licked up every inch of you and you finally pushed his head away. He made his way back to a standing position out from under the table and grinned goofily at you, his back towards the window so no one else could see the way his face was glistening with your juices.

“You’re a fucking madman, Lucas Wong,”

“I really think you should talk to him,” Lucas said, sitting in his car with you inside of your apartment parking structure. Although you go home almost everyday to your loft shared with Mark, the two of you don’t speak frequently. It’s never out of hatred, more out of awkward discomfort as neither of you know what to say. You know that neither of you have even spoken to Yuna since the outburst, and you wondered if you would ever again.

“Easy for you to say, he already got over the awkwardness with you,” you complained. He sighed, squeezing your hand in his.

“You know that’s different. I’m his friend. It’s a lot easier for a guy to dismiss a topic like this with a guy than his little sister,”

You knew he was right, and that’s why you found yourself punching the code into your lock pad with the intent to finally clear the air with your brother. He was cooking something on a pan when you walked in, and he gave you barely a glance.

“Mark?” you called, setting your bag on the countertop and sitting on one of the stools. “Can we talk for a second?”

“I already know what you’re going to say,” he replied, looking up from his deformed egg. “And I just want to say that I’m sorry,”

Your heart dropped, and for the first time you felt bad for not making more of an effort to speak to him sooner. You kept telling yourself that you were just trying to find the right time, but maybe the right time was as soon as possible. Mark had probably been struggling with it, too.

“I never should have made such a fuss about it. In reality, I didn’t know Lucas as well as I thought I did. And seeing him change alongside you, seeing him truly happy for maybe the first time since I met him, I realized that maybe you guys both needed each other. And I was getting in the way of that while making you feel shitty about it,” he had a smile on his face, just like he always did, as he translated the thoughts he’d been wanting to say for a while. You didn’t deserve such a good brother.

“I’m sorry too, I got caught up in the thrill of it all and I guess I forgot that other people exist in this world. And I’m sorry about Yuna,”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll get over it. Seeing she hasn’t even tried to contact me ever since, maybe she really wasn’t the one for me. Not everyone can find love like you,” he joked, and you chuckled lightly. A strange smell began wafting into your nose, and you made a face of disgust.

“I think something’s burning,”

“My egg!”

“You’re a real burden for me, you know,” Lucas teased as you gave him directions to an unknown location. You wished you could blindfold him and drive yourself, but Lucas didn’t let anyone else drive his car. Not even you. Not his beloved ‘Lucas Jr.’

“Yeah, yeah. Keep driving, peasant,” He shook his head, but you could see the ghost of a smile on his face as you laughed hysterically at your own joke. “We’re almost there,”

Honestly, you were almost to the parking lot, an entire block away from the actual location, because you wanted to make sure it would be a surprise. So when he parked and the two of you got out of the car, you made him bend his tall frame down so you could tie the scarf around his eyes. It was a funny sight, seeing a six foot tattooed man being dragged blindfolded down the street by his girlfriend, but what was life with Lucas if you didn’t make it exciting?

“God, woman. You’re going to kill me, aren’t you? Tie me up and push me down a ditch,”

“Can you shut up for two seconds? We’re here,”

You untied the knot and let the fabric fall from his eyes, and he blinked the initial shock of bright light away and stared up at the building in front of him.

“Ta-da!”

“It’s a… a tattoo parlor?”

“Correct you are, Lucas. And I, Y/n Y/l/n, will be getting my very first tattoo. Like right now,”

Lucas looked at you with confusion, never expecting you to make such a decision.

“What are you even getting? Have you even thought this through?” You rolled your eyes, grabbing his arm tightly, pointing at it.

“You’re getting a fucking weed leaf on your arm?”

“No, you dumbass! I’m getting the sakura flower,” you sighed, ready to abandon him outside and walk in alone. You watched as a look of epiphany graced his face and suddenly he looked ecstatic. Somehow the gravity and meaning behind your decision was so overwhelming for him that he hugged you right in the middle of the busy sidewalk, lifting you up and swinging you around.

Every moment Lucas spent with you, he could feel you slowly patching up his wounds and scars. There was something about you that healed him, and he was seeing the finish line clear in sight now. He’d never been motivated to do anything in his life, but now it seemed like all he was ever made to do was love you. And he was okay with that.

“You just know exactly how to make me fall in love with you, don’t you?” he asked, putting you down and grabbing your face in his hands. He was smushing your face together a little bit, but you still had the biggest smile on your face. “You won’t look back on this in thirty years and regret it, right?”

“Definitely not,” you replied, leaning in to smash his lips into yours. You pulled away and he had the silliest grin on his face. “And even if you were, I’d let you be my worst mistake, Lucas Wong.”

taglist:

@jjikyuu @thats-a-jen-no-no @sunshinedhyuck @ahgastayzen @2-3-t-i @whlplazh @yasmini24 @bunnylover0193 @Ajhdr @elithereal @fluffyjaes @taehcore @felixn-recs @staysstrays @simplicitysbabe @luckyonejaehyun @huangxx @Thoreeo @softsthao @justineasian @springdaybreaks @amelodicdreamer @softieus @wayvexo @yixing-jaehyun @defunkitatedmess @chitaprrrr @charmlessprincess @lauraneuuh @pewpewpwe00 @unknown5tar @idlwhy

this fic took a lot out of me. It's also being published two days late, sorry TT. anyways time for me to take a nap wow

Sincerely,

bebetae

931 notes · View notes

witchersgoldenbard · 3 years ago

Note

Do you have any geraskier fic recs for the weird slump that happens when you’re anxious about the semester, but that surfaces as deciding you’re a fucked up weirdo and then crawling into bed and hating yourself? Bc that is where I am 🥺 I’m in the US so the semester starts next week for me, and I am barely functional

hello my darling nonnie, i am sorry you’re in a slump, please know i am sending you all the hugs and cuddles 🥺💛 you’re not a fucked up weirdo, you’re lovely and deserve all the snuggles! In lieu of snuggles, i’m giving you some of my personal favourite geraskier fics – which are not nearly as many as i would like because i spent a long time in a (reading) slump myself. i tried to sort them for you becuase they got... a bit out of hand 💛

Canon-world AUs

of music and motion and love by WriteThroughTheNight

T | 12k | Jaskier and Yen are siblings, many feels, magic jaskier

When Jaskier was four, he slipped his mother’s watch and went to the field to gather a bouquet of dandelions. He climbed back into the yard, as stealthy as a child really cared to be, and crept over to the barn. In the barn, lived a secret. OR Jaskier comes from a far humbler background, and would really like to know why Yennefer never came back for her youngest brother.

the heart is a winged beast by @greyduckgreygoose

E | 99k words | warlord!geralt, mutual pining, intrigue

After the turmoil of war robbed him of his birthright, Jaskier endures life as a simple Bard in the court of Kerack, under the protection of his cruel, ambitious cousin. Until the night that Jaskier catches the attention of the Geralt of Rivia, Lord of the Clan of the Wolf, and is terrified to be gifted to the barbarian mercenary as a bed-warmer. However, Jaskier soon learns that the White Wolf is not the man his dark reputation makes him out to be. He might, in fact, be Jaskier's only hope of escaping his harsh circumstances. If only Jaskier can convince Geralt to allow him to remain at his side... if only Jaskier can avoid losing his own heart in the process...

Geralt Deserves Soft Things (series) by Bedalk05

mostly T | 200k words | wolf shifter jask, soft boys, all the feels

This series is almost entirely pure fluff, featuring shifter!Jaskier and a whole lotta cuddles and feels all around. Most of these can be read as a stand-alone if you’d like.

(i honestly love this so much, some of the first geraskier i read. perfect comfort 💛)

Modern AUs

Yours, Dandelion by dapperyklutz

T | 17k words | teenagers, soft boys, all the feels, pining

Jaskier has a secret. Well, he has two. The first is that he's in love with Geralt Rivia, captain of the rugby team and his childhood best friend. Only, they're no longer best friends. His second secret is that he writes poems dedicated to Geralt and anonymously posts it at the school's Freedom Wall under the pseudonym of Dandelion. And the thing is, Dandelion has become so popular - more popular than Jaskier - that it's getting more difficult to keep his silence when it's clear that Geralt is starting to develop feelings for the mysterious lovesick poet. How naïve was Jaskier to think that it would be so easy.

velvet and steel by balladofwolves

E | 21k words | mob!au, singer!jask, slow burn, action, epic

Reckless up-and-coming singer Jaskier lands himself in hot water when one of his more political songs goes viral, and nearly gets him killed. Queen Calanthe of Cintra wants his head, but Jaskier is placed under the protection of the Order of the Wolf, the most powerful crime organization in the Continent-- And finds himself falling in love with none other than Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf himself, and leader of the Order. Jaskier’s never been known to make good, or safe, choices.

Opposites Attract by tinyjaskier

T | 28k words | autistic geralt, adhd jaskier, college au, softness

When Geralt is paired with Jaskier by the University accommodation team, he’s sure there must’ve been some kind of mistake. The guy is loud, unorganised and messy. Geralt likes peace, order and cleanliness. He’s going to drive him absolutely insane. But, there’s no more accommodation left. How will they cope?

Soulmate AUs

Nothing to Lose But My Secrets by @handwrittenhello

E | 45k words | enemies to lovers, warlord!geralt and assassin!jaskier

Jaskier is the best assassin in the Northern Kingdoms. On the most important mission of his life - kill the Warlord of the North or die trying - things go terribly wrong, and he's taken prisoner. During his time as a captive in Kaer Morhen, he's forced to confront some uncomfortable truths: witchers aren't what the stories say, his soulmate is most definitely somewhere in the keep and he may have found himself on the wrong side of this war.

Batshit by fungumunguss

E | 80k words (though the main storyline is like 60k?) | modern au, witchers in modern times

Jaskier is attending Comic-Con to promote his show, "Dandelion" a musical thriller. While everything on the show is fiction, Jaskier has a penchant for danger and very quickly finds himself in a bit of trouble and into the arms of one delectable man who he feels drawn to. His heart whispers soulmate, but after his previous disaster with his soul mark, he can't bear to believe it true. The punch in the gut tells him that much.

Other

The Reanimator of Rosemerrow by @cap-sweet-and-salty-sadness

E | 35k words | supernatural & horror elements, modern witchers

In 1819, Jaskier accidentally buys an old abandoned inn in the middle of nowhere, England. Haunted, as if this mountain of dust and debris wasn't already enough of a problem. At least he has a handsome carpenter to help him renovate it.

endless wonder by @kotemorons

M | 50k words | Warehouse 13 AU, a/b/o (but not really), magic

Jaskier knows three things for sure: One, most of the items stored in Kaer Morhen actively want to kill him. Two, all of the people he works with are absolutely gorgeous, terrifying alphas that want nothing to do with his flirty omega self. Three, he wouldn't have it any other way. Oh, did he mention the end of the world?

The Lesser Evil by @dont-tempt-me-frodo

E | 79k words | pirate captain!jask, assassin!geralt, epic, all the feels

1674 and piracy is rife throughout the Caribbean. Plenty of work for a Pirate Hunter such as Geralt. But when he takes a contract to hunt down a pirate captain who is interfering with important trade, a harsh truth arrises that will question his morals and he will be forced to choose between two evils, and risk the one thing he never thought he would find. Love.

💛 i also asked some of my friends for their geraskier fic recs, so here, have some more! (though i didn't sort them this time, sorry)

Life's Blood by @resident-lambert-hoe (T | 3k)

It had taken fifty-years of fighting tooth and nail for Geralt and Jaskier to be allowed to legally marry. After the deed was done, they chose to commemorate it in their own way. tattoo au

Secret by @mordoriscalling (M | 8k)

Based on artistsfuneral's take on the prompt "love confessions: in a language you didn't know they understand".

Taming the Wolves by @saltytransidiot (T | 9k)

When Geralt offers to bring Jaskier to Kaer Morhen that winter, the bard is overjoyed, but anxious as well. He desperately wishes to make a good impression on his lover's family. It turns out easier than he had thought, although Eskel isn't convinced just yet.

Sweet Nothings by @saltytransidiot (M | 10k)

Kaer Morhen is a warmer place than Jaskier had envisaged, and Geralt's family is nicer, and bigger, than Geralt had ever spoken about. Walking into the keep brings up some feelings that Jaskier hadn't realized were bubbling, and he has to delve deeper into his own feeling and who he really is. (God Jaskier)

Sweet Sorrows by @saltytransidiot (M | 19k)

Ciri doesn't find Geralt at the end, she finds Jaskier. She has known him all her life, and she trusts him. He decides to bring her to Kaer Morhen so that she will find Geralt. He dreads the moment it will happen.

Three Steps from the Sky by @bunnyofnegativeeuphoria (M | 30k)

Dear Reader, I present to you a tale of love, the value of faith and communication, and quite a ridiculous amount of horse content.

No King Among Wolves by IndigoDream (M | 32k)

Prince Julian of Kerack has been having nightmares recently. On the day of his twenty-first birthday feast, a week before his official coronation, he tries to ignore those nightmares and focus on the party. However, when a princess of Creyden greets him, accompanied by her witcher bodyguard, Julian starts feeling like he can't escape the dreams anymore. --- Jaskier was a son, a brother, a prince. One sweep at his mind, and he is only a Prince.

we could be married (and then we'd be happy) by @a-kind-of-merry-war (E | 50k)

Geralt and Jaskier have been playing this game for nearly a year, now: staging a proposal in an expensive restaurant to see if they can get a meal on the house. But pretending to be engaged to the person you're secretly in love with is starting to take its toll on both of them - especially when they're caught in the act.

To give without knowing by @flowercrown-bard (T | 108k)

Jaskier finds a wooden figure that Geralt carved and threw away in the woods and thinks it's a gift from the fae.

my dear friend (hehe) also compiled a list of geraskier fic recs

so! i hope you're not overwhelmed now, dearest nonnie. i hope you find something that lets you escape your slump. i love you 💛

#geraskier #geralt #jaskier #geraskier fic recs #the witcher fanfiction #witcher fanfic #witcher fic rec #nonnie asks #i love you nonnie #also just go to the profiles of all these writers they're lovely and have many more stories #also IndigoDream i kiss your hand darling #💛#nat rambles #nat recs #thanks everyone who gave me their recs!#i would have asked more people but then that would have escalated even more but feel free to reblog this with your own recs

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pretty-boys-book-club · 3 years ago

Text

It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader, mentions of past Aaron Hotchner x Haley Brooks

Warnings: MAJOR ANGST, character death, angst with happy ending, mentions of child abuse, child neglect, Aaron Hotchner Needs a Hug, Aaron Hotchner Whump, Teen Hotch, alcoholic mother - I think this is pretty much it, but feel free to let me know if there's any more!

Word Count: 12K (this thing is loooong)

Prompt: Person A is too busy working, even going as far as spending Christmas Eve alone at their office. They end up falling asleep and get visited by a series of ghosts who give them a chance to re-evaluate their actions and right the wrongs of their past. (A Christmas Carol)

Author’s note: The person who sent me this request wished to stay anonymous, so I’m posting this as a text instead of an answer. I’m sorry if this a little too sad, but I thought Hotch deserved some type of background and got a bit carried away. The timeline is a bit wobbly and this hasn’t been beta read, but I’ve spent over a week obsessing over this text and something tells me it is ready to be released into the world. Also, per the request,I’m doing this one as a Fem!Reader.

This is part of my 12 Days of Christmas (100 Followers Celebration, which turned into a 250 followers celebration and now a 300 followers celebration!). Requests are now closed and will reopen at 2022.

Haley Hotchner was dead: to begin with. There was no doubt whatever about that. The arrangements – which sort of coffin, cremation or burial, where would they have the service – seemed to relate to someone else, some stranger. The register of her burial was signed by the coroner, the forensic pathologist and someone else at the FBI. Aaron Hotchner signed it too.

He’d known nearly immediately, of course. How could it be otherwise? Aaron knew as soon as he walked into their house, his gut telling him the worst possible outcome had come true. As odd as it sounds, part of Aaron was grateful for the pain. Of course, he was absolutely miserable but, in his own way ,he was glad that his ex-wife died first so she didn’t have to feel what he did. As much as it hurt, it was an honor to him to be able to share the best years of their lives together and that she chose him to share them with. And if he thought too hard about what it was like for him in the first couple of years, he was glad that she was spared of that.

On the surface, the man looked and behaved just as usual. Rather, Aaron felt content to find a new sense of resilience. One latches on to any concept that offers hope or comfort. As a trained FBI profiler, Aaron knew that a theory shared by many psychiatric studies of bereavement is that the mind shuts down, so the body will have time to adjust to the new situation.

During her burial and the days that followed, Aaron felt as if he was moving through the rooms like a shadow, and their shared house seemed large and cold and alien. He’d never spent such a long time at the house without Haley. After a couple of weeks, the soft grief, the tears, began to hit. The metaphors – waves, inundation, floods – seemed accurate to him. Grief swallowed him. Whoever he was before her death, was replaced by a melancholic, taciturn, and cautious man. An iron ring was cast around his heart, followed by a heaviness in the chest. It was almost as if his innards had been scooped out – no stomach, heart, or emotions.

Reid once told him that after a year and a half 70 per cent of widows reported significant improvement in their feelings, which offered more hope to Hotch than statements such as “everyone’s grief is different”.

After about a year, Aaron stopped obsessively going over the most horrible week of his life. He once had promised Haley that he’d make sure she and Jack never suffered pain because of his job. And she had suffered great pain, in the end. But after so long of wallowing and going over every moment of that nightmare, in some vain expectation of correcting his mistakes, he had to move on.

Since that fateful night, everything had become about Jack. He had to make their life as normal as possible and see Jack through the hell of their reality with the assurance that he was loved and that both of them would be okay.

After two or three years, he stopped thinking about Haley’s death. Jack was getting better every day, and as he did, Aaron found himself worrying less about his son. He was almost starting to believe that he would be okay. He had a lot of work ahead, but he’d manage.

So, there was no doubt that Haley was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come out of this story.

After Haley’s death though, whatever he might have once been, Aaron Hotchner was a different man. He needed to work, not only to survive, but so that he had an identity that he could wear like armor. This new version of himself was working at least 70 hours a week, so much on his plate that early every minute of his day had to be spent in a productive way. He still felt as if he’d lost a limb. But his wound had healed and he’d learned to manage without it.

The old Aaron only had to exist in the precious moments before his head hit the pillow at night or when he was spending time with Jack. It was safer there. At some point, he became hard and sharp as steel, self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The cold inside him froze his features, brows permanently furrowed, wrinkles adoring his forehead. He carried his own low temperature always about with him, external heat and cold had little influence on Aaron Hotchner. No warmth could warm, no wintry weather chill him.

Once upon a time—of all the good days in the year, on Christmas Eve— Aaron Hotchner sat busy in his office. The weather was cold and bleak, and he could hear the people in the bullpen going around their day. Reid was stating all the possible facts about Christmas to Morgan, Prentiss was discussing what type of wine to bring to a party with Rossi, JJ had already left to be with her family, Penelope was merrily distributing gingerbread cookies to all of the office and youyou, well, youyou werewere far too busy actually working.

You see, you you arrived at the team just after Hotch returned from his leave, proving yourselfWith a background on forensic analysis, you’d quickly proved to be a useful asset to the team. Not only that, but your work ethic was impressive, probably the only other person in the team who worked as hard as Hotch did.

There was something different about you. Something that made Hotch feel as if he could relax around you, and he felt, slowly, all the walls he’d put up starting to crumble. Spending so many hours together, it was only natural that the two of you grew closer together.

To be completely honest, Aaron’s not even sure when it started. If he had to guess, it might have been during one of the late nights you shared at the office, enjoying the silence. Or it might have been when you started to compliment him on the tiniest of things - Hotch knew you were a profiler, but he didn’t expect anyone on the team to notice whenever he got a haircut or when he tried a different coffee brand than usual. Or maybe it was because you never gave him a look of pity. Maybe sadness, maybe care, never pity. Maybe, just maybe, his feelings started when you knocked on the door to his office with a bag of takeout, starting a secret routine of sharing dinner, chatting about anything and everything at once. Maybe that’s when the familiar feeling sank in. Or maybe it was any of the other small moments in between.

Of course, having felt this way before, he knew exactly what was happening. Sure, you were attractive, it was hard not to notice the way you swayed your hips or how your curves complimented you, but it was more than that. It wasn't a crush or some type of infatuation. It was too similar to what he’d felt all those years ago with Haley. So he couldn’t possibly allow it. Not if it meant to be plagued with the possibility of you getting hurt too. On top of that, the fact that he was your boss just further complicated things. No, he decided, those feelings won’t do. Best to avoid it all together.

So he started to push you away. Trying his best to ignore what his heart craved so badly. Sitting back and watching as you dated despicable man after despicable man. Even if he wanted to give his heart to you, after years of white-knuckling it, his fingers didn’t know how. Anyway, back to our story.

The clock had barely hit four in the afternoon, but it was quite dark already — it had not been light all day. Snow was pouring down so dense that all the other buildings outside of Quantico were mere phantoms. Aaron had come to despise the winter weather. Haley loved the season and the holidays served him as a painful reminder of memories he didn’t want to revisit.

Hotch was divorced from all the antics of lights and decorations, as soon as the leaves announced the beginning of autumn, his moments of abstraction were frequent, and in them it seemed as if his spirit were wandering the paths of another world. He’d only come back to his senses with the beginning of the next year, when the first flowers blossomed with hope of spring.

During the month of December, the BAU had surprisingly little to do. A few cases here and there, but nothing that required more than a couple of days. So, from where he was sitting in his office, he saw that most of the team had already left. You were still typing away at your desk, the only one left at the bullpen. He saw from the corner of his eye how you held your coat closer to your body, the temperature at Quantico making you slightly tremble. Not matter how many times Hotch had told maintenance to come down and fix the thermostat at their floor, his requests had been ignored.

He was so distracted observing you, a luxury he rarely did ever let himself indulge in. He should have been more insistent, you shouldn’t waste your time working that much lest you become like him. He hated how he could see the transformation taking place in you. How your soft eyes now carried a look of disappointment each time you looked at him. He was so absorbed in his task of admiring you that he was caught by surprise by someone entering his office.

“Merry Christmas, Hotch!” cried a cheerful voice. It was the voice of Penelope Garcia, who was head to toe dressed in red and green, not hiding her enthusiasm for the season.

“Merry Christmas, Garcia.” he said, not looking up from his report. He watched as Penelope left him one of her cookies on his desk as she walked away, one of the last of the team to leave the office.

“Sir, I’ve closed off the bat cave for the day. Some of us will be going to Rossi’s to have a Christmas dinner, you know. Do you maybe want to join us?”

“There’s no need. It’s fine, thank you for worrying about me, Garcia.” he said shortly, and turned away, his attention back to his report.

“Okay, well, never hurts to ask. The invitation still stands, in case you change your mind. Good night then, sir.”

“Good night, Garcia.” he said as he heard her leave his office.

He looked back at the report in his hands. What was he doing? He knew it the team probably suspected he wasn’t as busy as he was pretending to be. But, for some strange reason, the idea of spending Christmas working was more appealing than the idea of spending it with Jack and Jessica. The idea of seeing his sister-in-law, which meant he’d have to face Roy too, would meant facing a painful and familiar feeling and he didn’t wish to spoil the night for anyone else.

“Please, don’t tell me you’re planning on actually working tonight.”

Hotch raised his eyes from his paper as the subject of his affections walked into his office. You were standing at the doorframe, arms crossed, holding the tiniest of packages, wrapped in some sort of shiny paper. Your face sported a concerned but amused look.

“It’s just another day, crimes don’t stop just because it’s a holiday.” he replied.

You observed him, not believing a word he said: “It’s just one night, Aaron, the office will be here tomorrow morning. But I bet Jack would love to have you with him tonight.” He whimpered at the use of his given name, hating how you could read him so effortlessly.

“He’s with Jessica and his grandfather, he’ll be fine. I get New Year’s with him. If I’m working, no one else has to.”

“Aaron, c’mon, you should go spend Christmas Eve with your family just like the rest of us.”

“I have to finish this report.” he turned back to face the papers on his desk. “Besides, I’ve worked during Christmas for the last few years, I really don’t mind.”

“Still, you really shouldn’t spend tonight by yourself. I can give you a ride to Rossi’s if you want. I heard he’s making thirteen different dishes, something about an Italian tradition. You should come.” He could see the expectation on your face. A look he had come to agree that was only reserved to him. After a moment of silence, you continued, suddenly remembering the package you were holding. “I got you a gift, by the way. I hope you like it.”

He wondered what you’d bought him, but decided against opening the gift, putting it inside one of the drawers instead. Anything to avoid letting you know how happy the little gesture made him. “Thank you. For the gift and the invitation. But I’m fine being here. You should go, I’m sure they are waiting for you.” Hotch gave you a small smile, unsure of what to tell you. He couldn’t admit he was at the office to avoid his feelings.

“Okay, never hurts to ask. The invitation still stands, in case you change your mind. Have a good night then, I…” You started, having trouble finding the right words. “Merry Christmas, Aaron.”

“Merry Christmas.” he uttered the words with a stone cold face, almost as if he’d rehearsed them before. Not hiding his guilt, though, he continued: “I’m sorry for turning down the offer, but I really need to finish this.” You seemed to understand his motives, looking down at your feet. He could see your eyes get a bit teary.

“Don’t worry about it.” You spoke softly, offering a gentle smile. He hated how you always did that, always showed sympathy for him. He didn’t deserve it.

And like that, you were gone, your steps echoing in the empty office as you took the elevator. He was now completely alone. Hotch sat there, unsure of what to think. He tried really hard not to feel bad for letting you go.

He really did.

HALEY’S GHOST

Without him noticing, the clock turned to yet a later hour. And so, Hotch decided to pour himself glass of scotch, the taste rich on his tongue, the familiar burn in his chest warming him up as he swallowed a generous gulp. It was much too late for him to drive home, not to mention the snowy road would be a menace to his safety, so he decided to sleep in his office. It was not the first, second, third or, hell, even fourth time he’d done so. Much too familiar with the action, he found himself laying in the sofa inside his office, putting one of the pillows below his head, sleep almost taking over him instantly.

It was then that Aaron noticed a couple of the computers outside his office turning on, the screens illuminating the empty bullpen. This might have lasted half a minute, or a minute, but it seemed an hour. The computers turned off as they turned on, together and all at once. His office door flew open with a booming sound, and then he heard the noise much louder, on the floors below; then coming up the corridor; then coming straight towards his door.

“Who’s there?” He asked, cold gun smoothly drawn from its holster, pointed, and fired up, as if expecting someone to reply. His color changed though, when, without a pause, someone came on through the glass door, and passed into the room before his very eyes.

The same face: the very same. Haley Hotchner stood in front of him.

“I must be delusional…”

“No, you’re not delusional, Aaron.”

“Who are you? Is this some sort of prank? It’s not funny, you know.”

“Ask me who I was.”

“Who were you then?” said Hotch, raising his voice. “You can’t be… I shouldn’t have had so many drinks.”

“In life, I was your ex-wife, Haley.”

“But you’re…”

“I’m dead? That much, Aaron, is, unfortunately true.”

“Can we—can we sit down?” asked Hotch, looking doubtfully at the ghost.

“We can.”

“Do it, then.” Hotch took a moment to observe her more closely. This Haley, staring back at him, looked a bit older. She had more lines on her face, her hair was long enough to tie it up, back to her usual blonde. But, Hotch noticed that, oddly, there was more life in her eyes then than during the last few weeks of her life.

“You don’t believe in me,” observed the Ghost.

“No, I don’t,” said Hotch. He scrubbed a hand over his face and shook his head. He had become insane. Or maybe he was just dreaming. That had to be it. It was the only explanation that made sense. He had to be fast asleep on his office couch, and he would wake up in the morning to see that this whole thing was just some dream. He would wake up, alone on Christmas morning, and go back to work to forget this awful dream.

“After everything you have seen, you still think ghosts are impossible?” Haley’s ghost crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head, a stance that Hotch was very familiar with. The distant memory made the tension leave his body for a bit.

“Okay, let’s say I believe you are actually here for a second and not some vision I’m having…” Curiosity got the better of him. He sighed, dropping his head in his hands. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here to warn you, Aaron, that you have yet a chance of living a long and fulfilling life, if you change the course you’re going. A true chance at love and happiness. You just need… a nudge in the right direction.” she quietly said, stroking Aaron’s face gently like she had done so many times during the years they were married.

“Oh, Haley, it’s really you. I’m so sorry.” Tears sprung to his eyes as he recalled their final moments together. He hugged her, burying his face in her shoulder. “I… I am-” The way he had cradled her, quite like he was doing right now “ I…”

“I know, Aaron. And I forgave you for it all, so you could find happiness again.” She held his face in her hands. “But you’re not happy, are you, Aaron? Look at you.”

“No, I am not! How can you expect me to be happy now you’re gone?” he demanded, in a faltering voice.

“You can be, I am sure. And you might not even see it, but you’re so close. You’ve got so much time to live, so much love left to experience, so many more wonderful years ahead of you. Time is the most precious thing in this world and to have shared my life for so long with you is something I am incredibly grateful for. Please tell Jack stories, so he knows how much I love him and how proud of him I will always be.” She smiled at him. Hotch can’t help but feel the hollowness of sadness combined with choking from grief. The price of love.

“You will be haunted,” she resumed, “by Three Spirits. Look at what they show you. Listen to them, please!”

“Is that what you call a nudge in the right direction, Haley?”

“It is.”

“I—I think I’d rather not,” said Hotch.

“Unfortunately, it’s not up you. Expect the first when the clock strikes one.” said Haley’s ghost, her hand touching his cheek one last time. “I loved you so much, but it’s time for you to let me go.”

Tears ran down Aaron’s face. “I’m not sure I know how.”

“You’ll figure it out.” Haley’s ghost smiled, wiping his tears gently with her thumb.

Then she left. Just as she appeared, dissolving into thin air. Aaron blew out a breath he’d been holding in his lungs without realizing it. And being, from the emotion he had undergone, or the fatigues of the day, or his glimpse into the afterlife, or the dull ache he still felt after seeing Haley one more time, Aaron went back to lying on the couch, not even taking off his shoes, and fell asleep upon the instant.

THE FIRST OF THE THREE SPIRITS

When Hotch awoke, it was so dark, that from his office he could scarcely distinguish the rest of the bullpen. He was trying to pierce the darkness with his eyes when he glanced upon the watch in his left hand. It was a quarter past midnight.

The idea being an alarming one, he scrambled out of his office, and groped his way to the door. He rubbed the sleep off his face with the sleeve of his shirt, he could see very little then. Hotch went back to his makeshift bed, and thought, and thought, and thought it over and over and over, and could make nothing of it. The more he thought, the more perplexed he was; and the more he endeavored not to think, the more he thought.

Haley’s ghost had bothered him. Every time he resolved within himself, after much inquiry, that it was all a dream, his mind went back again to its first position, and presented the same evidence to be worked all through, “Was it a dream or not?”

He stayed like that until the clock had hit one in the morning, when he remembered, on a sudden, that Haley’s ghost had warned him of a visit. Light flashed up in the room, and the door to his office opened.

The door to his office was opened, I tell you, by a hand. And Hotch, clutching his gun at its holster, found himself face to face with an unearthly visitor: “Tom?”

“Hello, Hotch.”

“Why are you here?” he inquired, even though he already knew the answer to that question. The old man looked just as he did on the last time they saw each other, with the small change being that he was able to breathe - or whatever it was ghosts did - without needing an oxygen tank.

“I am the ghost of Christmas Past.” his voice was singularly low, as if instead of being so close beside him, it were at a distance.

“Of course, you are. So, Shaunessy, where are you taking me?”

“As it usually goes, we shall start at the beginning.” Before Hotch had time to react, the spirit of the older policeman was holding his hand, they passed through the wall, stood upon the FBI building, facing the road below and then leapt out into the night. After a while, the entire city had vanished below them. Not a vestige of it was to be seen. The darkness and the mist had vanished with it, for it was a clear, cold, winter day, with snow upon the ground.

They landed on an empty field in rural Virginia. There was a sharp intake of breath from Aaron as he recognized the location. The sky was tinted a purplish gray just as he remembered, the snow falling down the quickest and heaviest it had in a long while.

“It can’t be.” Hotch said. “My old boarding school.”

“Do you remember it?” inquired Shaunessy’s ghost.

“Remember it!” cried Hotch with fervor; “I could walk around here while blindfold.”

They walked along the road, Hotch recognized every post and every tree, until an imposing building appeared in the distance. There was an empty familiarity in the way the school campus was silent during the winter break. Looking forward to the holidays, most of the boys put on their own clothes and packed their bags, shuffling past the school gates to the arms of their waiting parents, vacating the school for the two weeks that separated Christmas from the beginning of the year. Aaron watched all this activity without any obvious sadness or bitterness.

“The school is not quite deserted,” said the Shaunessy’s ghost. “A solitary child, neglected by his friends, is left here still.”

Hotch looked to the front of the building, scanning it. Something caught his trained eyes: fresh footsteps in the snow, leading away from the building. And amidst all of it - a young Aaron Hotchner stumbling blindly through the storm, snow over his ankles, head pounding and tears shining in his eyes. The older Hotch remembered exactly how his fingers ached in the winter wind as he clenched and unclenched them, trying to keep the feeling in their tips.

“Do you know why we’re here?” inquired the ghost.

“It’s the year when my father got sick.”

“Were you two ever close?” the ghost prompted.

“My father… He hurt me and not once did he show a single ounce of remorse. Never. My mother… She knew… But she didn’t do anything. Then she had Sean, and we were happy for a while. But when I became a teen, I became more and more difficult because I started to realize that things shouldn’t be like that. That it wasn’t normal for love to hurt the way it did. I rebelled — that's how I coped.” He answered. The image of his poor excuse of a father beating up his mother on the kitchen floor, while his brother cried in his room, played in his mind. Flashes of being beaten, thrown down the stairs, slapped. “So my father decided that I was the problem. I was the screw-up son with an attitude problem. The beatings got more frequent, and the more he tried to correct me the more I lashed out. And mother was… She got me away as soon as she could, I think my mother thought boarding school would give me stability. I just felt as if I must have done something wrong to be sent away. She didn’t stop him, though. Nobody stopped him. He only stopped when he died.”

“Are we here because that’s when he died, then?”

“No, not yet, at least. You see, he’d been having all those symptoms for years but he didn’t do anything because of his pride. No, this, right here, it was the Christmas I spent at school.”

“A happy memory, then?”

“Yes.”

In fact, he remembered being glad to spend the holidays far away from home. Of course, he’d struggled when he first got to the school. The first night away, he sobbed in the small, unfamiliar bed. Aaron had just turned sixteen when his mother sent him away. He thought his mother, at least, loved him, so for her to leave as if Aaron held no importance to her at all. It had hurt. But as she said goodbye he felt a strange sense of relief. The school was the ideal setting for him to hit the “reset” button.

There were paddocks with sheep in them on the actual school grounds. There were woods next to the school pool. The school chapel was quaint, with roses growing up the exterior. It was different from what he was used to, but he quickly settled into the routine. It’s funny how you can adapt when you don’t have much of a choice. The school fostered organization; its surroundings provided a sense of peace; and its people offered engagement and a sense of belonging. Every day at home was unpredictable and ghastly. Rules that were enforced one day, don’t apply on the next day. Promises were neither kept nor remembered. At school, though, things seemed to always remain the same. Aaron finally felt like he had a place to call home. He found a new way to cope: by taking on lots of responsibility and putting up a competent front for others.

As Hotch, the older one, that is, reminisced about his childhood, his teenage self was huffing and puffing about, mumbling something to himself, a letter in his hands. Both men walked closer to where the teen was, trying to get a better view of what was going on.

“You don’t seem that happy.” Shaunessy’s ghost teased.

“Well, I mean, of course, I felt lonely and left behind. But when wasn't I lonely? At least I was in peace. Besides, I had nowhere else to go, so the matter was decided.”

“Doesn’t look very peaceful to me.”

It was sad, perhaps, but that was the way it had always been for Hotch by then. Before he could explain anything else, though, the silence of the scene was shortly interrupted by another boy running up to meet them. He was shorter than Aaron, his round face adorned by a pair of similarly rounded glasses and blonde hair. His cheeks were red, partly because of the weather, partly from running.

“Hotchner, where are you going?” exclaimed the younger boy, trying to catch up with him. The older Aaron took a few steps to get closer to unfolding scene, only to confirm he wasn’t seeing things.

“It’s Richard Wilkins!” The older Hotchner exclaimed, a smile on his face like never before. “He was one of my closest friends as a boy.”

“What the hell does it look like I'm doing?” The young Aaron retorted, stopping just for a moment to wipe the dark hair out of his face before continuing to walk.

“It looks like you’re sulking, or something, I don’t know. But you’re not wearing enough layers to go out in this weather. You’ll catch a cold, or pneumonia, or hypothermia. Or worse, you’ll get both of us expelled!” The boy reasoned, earning a scoff from the young Hotch.

“Why do you care anyway, Wilkins?” Aaron asked, like a moody child, without turning, still holding the letter in his hand. He surely carried the weight of the world on his shoulders at that moment. Snow flew in the courtyard and the wind blew it back.

“Didn't you hear? There's going to be a blizzard!”

Hotch did hear, the professors had been grumbling about it all week about it, complaining they might not make it home before the storm hit the town, afraid they might get stuck in the roads during the worst of it. He didn’t care. The cold made him feel alive.

“Listen, you can’t stay out here like that. You’ll freeze to death” Wilkins spoke softly.

“You don’t understand! No one does!” Suddenly young Aaron crumpled up the letter in his hand and threw it into a ball. Wilkins bent down to take it. He glanced down at it, scanning the text quickly.

“Wow, you must be sad about your dad…” Wilkins is giving Hotch a sad look, but he doesn’t say anything more about it.

“What? No! I feel nothing for that man. It’s just… I can’t believe he gets to ruin my Christmas even from afar.” the older teen practically growled. Aaron was tempted to tell Richie how he had wished for his father’s death. He had prayed about it more than a couple times and even wrote a letter to Santa when he was younger.

“I know the feeling, my parents are dead and they seem to have that power too.” Wilkins agreed. And Hotch immediately felt like shit, because at least he had a mother to go home to. Even if she was not the best, at least she was alive. “I’m sorry to hear that.“

“It’s alright. There’s no way you could possibly know. By the way, I came here because I was supposed to tell you that Father Jones and a couple of other kids are decorating the school, we’re having a Christmas party at the dining hall tonight.”

“I didn’t realize there was anyone else here for break.” Aaron looked down at his feet and rubbed his hand through his hair.

“There’s a few of us. You want to come?”

“Fine. But I’m not celebrating anything tonight.”

“Your loss. I heard there’s going to be an actual dinner tonight. Not the usual grub we are served, actual real food. Heard they even went to the city to buy some stuff. If you don’t want it, you’re out of luck. More for me, then.”

“Okay, okay, you’ve convinced me. Maybe I’ll try to enjoy it for a while.”

And with that, the boys walked back into the school, together, talking about their plans for the evening. Hotch felt his heart swell once again in hearing the laughter emitting from his child self and his friend while they joked with each other.

He saw how they entered the school, quickly being called by one of the older kids to help set up the lights. The boys spent the whole afternoon decorating, eating and enjoying each other’s company.

"You had a few Christmases with this guy?” Shaunessy asked, with the authority of someone who had seen every Christmas.

“Not really. For a while, we were best friends. But then my father died and my mother asked me to come back home.”

“You loved each other deeply.”

“I suppose we did. It’s stupid but… That little Christmas dinner, it meant everything to me.”

The scene faded was replaced by another wintry day. Now, instead of the old school building, they were in a nice residential street. The lawns were decorated with lights and reindeer and Santa Clauses. All of them, except one.

"Where are we now?"

“Another Christmas when you're a bit older. Another time and another place but one that had a huge impact on making you who you are now."

The boy that walked around the corner on this day was a few years older, barely turned into a man. He still had the same dark hair as before, but this time, tears ran unchecked down his face.

"No, I don't want to see this." said the real Aaron to the ghost.

“I’m sorry, Hotch, I know how you feel about this whole thing but you need to see it.”

He knew immediately what Christmas this was. It was the year when Aaron came home from college. After being isolated from the outside world for most of his life, he now had exams to study, a loving girlfriend and a future to look up to. Finally, he was normal. He clawed his way to have the life he deserved.

Coming back hadn’t been easy, but Haley had convinced him it was the right thing to do. He knew the old man couldn’t hurt him now. But dealing with his mother was hard. His mother, having come from a broken and somewhat dysfunctional home, was culpable in different ways. She had embraced the view that his father was trying his best to help them and how Hotch was always ruining everything for them. So now, when the old horrible man was already lying six feet under, his mother was already halfway to becoming a functioning alcoholic, minus the 'functioning' part.

As he thought about having to see his family, he started to lose sleep. It was his mind’s way of telling him that this was a bad idea. His body would always tell him when something wasn’t right. He’d ‘feel it’ in his bones. Maybe that’s why he was so good at his job. But he had to go home. Not for his mother, but for Sean.

Thinking of his brother, Aaron made it home for the annual roller-coaster ride of the holidays. But Sean had missed out on having a brother for a while there, and now Aaron had come home after five years to find his little brother wasn't the person he left behind. His brother had witnessed as their father health declined and how their mother’s drinking spiraled out of control. He’d never known his father’s wrath, but Sean had known up close how mentally and physically their mother had become. How mean she’d been to the people who loved her the most. How angry. When he got inside the house from the airport, it was silent, cold and tomb-like. He couldn't wait to leave.

On that Christmas Day, events had unfolded as they often did — just another day of the year when they had to tip toe around on egg shells and do everything in our power not to address the elephant in the room: mother’s drinking. The menu for the day apparently was booze for breakfast, lunch, dinner and scotch all the way to bed.

Sean fled to his room as their mother took her third or fourth drink. Aaron knew the feeling of unease all too well. He’d spent the year at university with a written eulogy in his back pocket, waiting for the moment he’d get the call about his mother being dead and hoping that it wouldn’t happen.

So now, as the past and present Aaron Hotchner stood in the street, Hotch, the older one, was already bracing himself for impact. He knew exactly what scene would unfold.

As the younger version of himself stood there, crying, he could see little nine-year-old Sean Hotchner walk up to him, his pajamas a bit too short, a side effect of not having enough money to spend on such things, his hair a mess as per usual. The two brothers sat by each others side in the sidewalk. Like any good children in a broken home, every year they hoped that Christmas would be different, and every year it was the same, except a little worse.

“Is mom going to be okay?” Sean’s small voice asked. Of all the questions Aaron avoided, that one was the hardest.

“I don’t think so, buddy.” He thought back to his mother passed away on her bedroom, the plans for a family dinner long forgotten. Better than to be at found tomorrow morning at a ditch somewhere, on some strangers' house or in the police station.

“Is- Is Santa real?”

“What? No, of course not.” Aaron didn’t even try to hide the sound (something between a laugh and a scoff) that escaped him. “Why are you even asking me this?”

“I… I asked Santa for a nice Christmas dinner this year.” As his brother confessed, he saw the tears on Sean’s face that he was trying to hide.

“Sean… Listen, this is not gonna happen, but it’s not your fault.” Aaron answered. “This is her problem. It is not your job to fix it. It is your job to get on with your life.”

“You say that but you’re the reason our family is like this in the first place. Mom always says you’ve always been a liar. If…” Sean said between sobs. “If you hadn’t been so ungrateful, dad wouldn’t have sent you to boarding school and he’d still be alive and mom wouldn’t be sick!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Aaron hissed. Was his brother angry at him? He was dumbstruck. It simply hadn't occurred to him that Sean would place the blame for all of the family’s problems on him. How could it be that his younger brother’s view of their family was utterly different from his? It was pretty ironic, given the givens. But it made sense, as far as Sean was concerned, if one person could just leave, who was going to disappear next?

“Yes, I do! Why did you leave me? You promised you’d take me with you. Remember?” Sean looked at his older brother, the same look he used to give him when they were younger and fighting. “You didn’t just leave our parents behind. You left me too!”

Aaron cringed - he knew he only had himself to blame for that. It was his fault anyway. Of course it was. But what was he supposed to do? He had no idea how to take care of a child, no financial stability, no place for Sean to sleep. He was just a broke college student.

“I’m sorry, Hotch, I know how you feel about this whole thing.” Shanuessy’s ghost reminded the real Hotch this was just a replay of something he’d already lived through. “It’s not your fault. Sean was just a kid, who was in desperate need of a parental figure. Remind you of anyone?"

“Jack.”

“That’s right.

Overcome with great sadness for the fellow, Tom Shaunessy’s ghost sadly placed a comforting hand on Hotch’s shoulder while he teared up. He stared at the man in pity. “Poor guy. No wonder you’re like that.” Shaunessy’s ghost murmured inaudibly before a final flash from the watch enveloped them and sent Hotch back to the empty office of the BAU…

THE SECOND OF THE THREE SPIRITS

Hotch gasped and woke up with a start, madly twisting his head from left to right in trying to see his surroundings. It was his office, just as he’d left it moments ago.

It hurt to remember those events. They had been locked away in his mind for years. He made a pact with himself, there and then, to never let anything like that happen with Jack. Knowing his son was probably sleep by now, he made a mental note of never again leaving him alone during the holidays. Then, his mind rushes to the other person he can think might needed his company during the holidays.

“Sean…”

Hotch quickly grabs hims phone, staring at the light up screen. His tired eyes have no trouble typing the number, something he’s had to do a handful of times during the years.

He waited nervously for Sean to accept his call. He hadn’t seen his brother in almost five months, much less talked to him. The only contact they’d had were a couple of short messages, nothing really relevant. The phone ringed for a couple of minutes, no answer. Realizing the time must mean that his brother was fast asleep, or, more likely, in some random bar drinking the night away, Hotch decided the phone call would have to take place the next morning.

It was an hour later by this point and Aaron didn't need any convincing to know that there would indeed be another visitor at two. Expecting to see the next Spirit, he was surprised when there was no one there.

His mind wandered back to his colleagues. Did they resent him for being so closed off lately? He thought about you and the forgiveness that had come so easily when he turned down the invitation for the party, even though he knew you must have been hurt.

Then there was the look, the one you had reserved just for him, the one you had shared so many nights together at the office. Was it an expression of affection? Maybe it was more than affection. Anyway, that look frightened him. Because if it meant what he thought it did, there were so many things that could go wrong.

At ten past two, Hotch finally realized that there was light slipping into his office through the space beneath the door. He thought that it might have been there for some time, actually.

He stood up and opened the door, finding the bullpen as empty as it was before. But, upon further inspection, he could see that the source of this ghostly light might be in the conference room, from where it seemed to shine. This idea taking full possession of his mind, he got up softly and shuffled to the door.

The moment Hotch’s hand was on the lock, a familiar voice called him by his name, and told him to open the door. He obeyed.

“This can’t be right…” he mumbled, as he turned on the lights in the room. “Jason? What are you doing here?” He blinked a few times to try to focus harder, but that did nothing to clear the situation up. If anything, he was more confused than before.

“I am the spirit of Christmas present." answered the figure of his former colleague, masquerading as a spirit on one of the strangest nights Hotch’s had in recent memory.

“Wait a second, you’re not dead, are you?” He worried.

“Well, if you bothered to call me once in awhile, you’d know the answer to that.” The spirit of Jason Gideon smiled. “But no, I am not dead. I’m only here for Christmas day.”

Hotch crosses his arms, knitting his brows. “So you’re supposed to show me the present, I take it?”

“Exactly. You’re finally catching up, good.”

“Does that mean we’re staying here?”

“No.” Gideon’s laugh reminding Hotch how he’d missed his former colleague. Even if they weren’t too close, he was nice to have around. “We are going somewhere. It’s not far, though. Ready?”

Hotch nodded and allowed Gideon to guide them into the night. Unsurprisingly, they remained in D.C., going straight to David Rossi’s house. The house was, of course, beautifully decorated. Strands of tinsel and garland wrapped around the columns in the entrance, string lights by the windows, casting a warm glow to the whole house.

"Shall we have a look inside? Something smells good." Hotch sniffed the air, the smell made his mouth water and his stomach rumble. The smell was even better once they were inside.

The table, decorated with branches of holly and ivy, indicated the meal had already been served. Knowing David, there here had been a nice starter and plenty of main courses. By then, though, the table was filled with various deserts, so much that Hotch knew for a fact that most of the team had to sit down for a while, too full to move. He started to seriously consider that Rossi should quit the BAU and open up his own restaurant, so delicious the food looked. He was quick at counting, enough that he quickly saw there was a place set for him as there always had been, every year. A place he had yet to fill since Haley’s death.

The living room was filled with laughter, a roaring fire in the fireplace and music playing - he thought for a moment that it sounded like Andrea Bocelli’s voice - in the background.

On the corner, a very large, way bigger than necessary, Christmas tree stood, piles upon piles of gifts at its feet. From across the room, David Rossi, raised his glass with warm eyes casting upon everyone.

"This calls for the yearly toast, you all! For a lovely Christmas this year!"

Emily joined in. “Dave’s right!" She agreed cheerfully. "Plus it's never a proper Christmas without a toast to somebody!"

"Exactly!" Derek agreed.

"That's right!" said JJ.

"Oh that's a great idea, let's do it." Garcia tipped her head. "Now who are we going to toast for tonight's Christmas?" The team looked at each other in wondering for suggestions until Reid piped up excitedly.

"Oh! I know who we should toast!" The six pairs of eyes focused upon the doctor in eagerness. But then nothing prepared Aaron for what next came from the boy's mouth: "Let's give a toast for Hotch!”

Why was a sense of guilt beginning to work its way into his body? He had no reason to feel guilty. Right?

“I agree, he’s done so much for all of us.” you said, walking back from the kitchen. Hotch took a moment to take you all in. The way the red dress you had changed into hugged you in all the right ways. His eyes never left your face, his attention was purely yours.

“Christmas is a time for joy isn't it? Everyone deserves a little cheer for Christmas! Specially Hotch.” you shrugged, giving a practiced fake smile. What was going on with you? He knew you loved Christmas.

Everyone gave out whoops and cheers of agreement and seconds later, all the hands enclosed around their glasses of prosecco. Derek gave Rossi a nod and the latter raised his glass, beginning the toast. "A toast, to our unit chief Aaron Hotchner. May the spirit of Christmas be with him!"

"To Hotch!”

After the impromptu toast, Aaron could see most of the team had begun drifting towards the makeshift dance floor. Derek and Penelope swaying close together, Spencer and Emily having fun doing silly dances with JJ in-between. Since it was Christmas, there was a lot singing as well. All of them except for Dave, who walked to the kitchen, no doubt starting to clean up a bit. And you.

“Hey guys?” You piped up softly, as you slipped away from the rest of the party. “I’ll be right back.”

He could see how you swiped the bottle of champagne off the table and stalked away. Hotch couldn't stop his own feet, feeling compelled to be near you even though he was supposed to be merely an observer in this scene.

You quietly walked out of the house, sitting down in the steps leading out to the patio, even if they were mostly covered in snow. You finished the champagne in your flute, then started drinking straight from the bottle.

You’d left the door open a crack so that, theoretically, anyone could come in if they wanted to, and Hotch wished he was actually there to tell you to come back inside, lest you catch a cold.

After looking back to make sure no one had followed you, you did something he never would expect. At first, some tears started rolling down your face, as you desperately tried to blink them away. But after failing at holding back a sob, you openly burst into tears. Hotch was taken by surprise. Why were you sad?

“Hey kiddo, what are you doing out here?” Aaron’s head snapped in the direction of the voice, and he saw Rossi walking up to you out of the corner of his eye. “It’s freezing out here.” He said, putting a blanket over your shoulders.

“I’m just getting some air.” You answered, giving him a friendly nod, not willing to move despite the company. You tried to wipe your tears away, plastering a small smile on your face.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s nothing.” You said, shaking your head. "I'm really not good company right now…”

“It’s because of Hotch, isn’t it?”

Hotch felt so horrible, so ungrateful. Maybe that’s why all this was happening: the world was trying to punish him for being this way. And he couldn’t help but feel like he deserved it.

“Take me home.” He told the Spirit, feeling awful. “We’re done here.”

“We’re not.” Gideon shook his head. “You need to see this.”

“No, I don’t.” Hotch whispered, on the edge of having a breakdown as he didn’t want this. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He really shouldn’t be listening to a private conversation between you and Rossi, but Hotch couldn’t help but wanting to hear more.

You sighed, knowing the look in David’s eyes all too well. The pity. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend to care,” you murmured.

“Please, we all do care about you. Some more than you’d imagine. Just tell me what it’s going on.”

“Sorry, I’m just having a really bad time wrapping my mind around how he’s been acting lately.” You paused, before letting out a heavy sigh and beginning. “I know I have no reason to feel hurt, but I just can’t shake the feeling that I must have done something wrong, to push him away.”

“C’mon, you must know why he’s been acting like that. You’re a profiler, after all.”

“I mean, I know the holidays can be stressful, so I figured that was it. But surely not enough for him to be gutted all day and chose to spend it alone at the office. What do you think is upsetting him?”

“Are you serious?” Rossi sputtered, before seeing the look you gave him. “Well, it’s been like that every December…” Rossi started. “Ever since Haley’s death. You know he doesn’t really like to talk much about it.”

“Oh, God, I’m an idiot.” You sobbed, feeling like the most selfish fool on the planet. “I’ve been making this up to be about me when Hotch is out there dealing with his grief over his ex-wife.”

“When were you going to tell him?” Rossi asked, obviously trying not to smirk.

"I'm... I'm sorry?"

“I might not have been successful with my marriages, but I know love when I see it. So, when were you going to tell Hotch how you felt about him?”

“I wasn’t planning on telling him. He’s dealing with so much, the last thing he needs is a coworker with a stupid unrequited crush on him.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s unrequited.” Of course, David Rossi would know all about Hotch’s feelings before even himself did. “Let me guess: something about him being you boss, something about you being afraid to ruin things, yada yada.” Rossi said, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Guilty as charged.” You held up your hands in surrender. “But I can’t, Rossi. I’m too much of a coward to tell him how I feel. Honestly, I think it would be best if I could put my feelings aside… Why can’t I stop?”

Hotch practically collapsed as you said this. His knees gave in and he had to make an effort to keep standing. He couldn’t help but let his mouth fall open. He wasn’t sure what knocked the wind out of him more - your confession of love or the deep anguish in your voice. It was so obvious to him now.

“The heart wants what it wants, kiddo.” Rossi stated. As simple as that.

“The funny thing is I know Hotch would handle it gracefully. He’d reject me with kindness. He has such a good heart and he can be so thoughtful. I don’t know why he tries to hide it.” You said, sounding wistful and sad. “I don’t know what to do, Dave.”

“Did you not hear anything I said? You should tell him how you feel, that’s what you should do.” David stood up, brushing the snow off his pants. “You take all the time you need, okay? I’ll get everything to make up the couch. You shouldn’t drive in such state.”

“I’m fine, Dave.”

“Nonsense.” Rossi spoke as gently as possible.

You gave a faint smile, wrapping the blanket tightly around you. “Thank you, Dave. For the blanket and for caring enough to listen…”

“You're welcome" Rossi smiled. “Alright I gotta circulate, catch you later.”

As you stood there catching your breath, Hotch looked to Gideon, who smiled, the same face he used to have whenever the team reached a conclusion long after him.

“What is this, pity? You feel sorry for me, so you’re showing me what I want to hear?”

“No. Of course not. I have no control over what you’re seeing. Everything is true.”

“Why did you show me this, then?” Hotch’s voice trembled.

“Because you deserve to know the truth. Maybe knowing she returns your affection will help you act on your feelings.”

“She never told me she felt like that.” Hotch tried to defend himself, as Gideon’s spirit began to walk away. He caught up quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I had no idea, I swear.”

“Why are you so scared of being happy?” Gideon asked him. Hotch’s breath quickened and he looked away, not sure if he had an actual answer.

“Because I… I don’t deserve to be.” Maybe, it was because, deep inside, he was convinced that admitting how he was in love with you would be a crime. An act so selfish, preventing you from meeting whatever better man you might have found if he hadn’t stepped in. Forget that - it would be the most narcissistic thing he had ever done. Because if he had you, he’d never let you go.

“Oh, Hotch, you always were so harsh on yourself. You deny so much of yourself, hoping it will cure things faster. But it doesn’t work, does it? No. The only way that we can find happiness and peace is if we throw ourselves out into the open. Do it. Throw yourself. Do not attempt to feel nothing so as not to feel anything.”

The shorter man looked up at the him, trying to read the expression and thoughts of the man before him. Hotch felt like the answers to a thousand questions had been answered yet more had appeared in their place. Was he really wasting the opportunity of being happy with you just because he was afraid?

“I’m afraid our time is up. I hope for your sake you’ve truly paid attention. The next ghost won’t be so kind. If you listen to any of us tonight, listen to him.”

Suddenly, everything went black and Hotch was back at Quantico, sitting in his couch. Gideon had left him with a warning. What was the last ghost going to show him?

He remembered the gift you’d given him. What was it? He supposed he might as well open it and see. He opened the box, only to find a pair of tickets for an live orchestral presentation of The Beatles White Album. He flipped them over, then back again. Of course you’ve bought them. The perfect gift. There was two tickets, though. Had you intended for the two of you to go together? He quickly saw that the box also had a note, written in your calligraphy.

Dear Hotch,

John Lennon wrote that we need to learn to love ourselves first, in all our glory and our imperfections. I hope this holiday season you find the strength and healing we all need in our line of work. Without you, this team would not be called a family. You complete our lives. Thanks for your support, guidance, and care.

Merry Christmas xx

THE LAST OF THE THREE SPIRITS

Before he had time to react, the clock struck three in the morning.

Hotch looked about for the ghost, but he didn’t see it. He then decided to lift his eyes, and there it were the ghost, draped and hooded, coming, like a mist along the ground, towards him.

Approaching the figure, his gait began to falter as he saw that a deep black garment concealed its head, its face, its form, and left nothing of it visible save one outstretched hand. No. No no no. This couldn’t be the third spirit. He felt a chill course through his spine.

“Are you the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come?”

The ghost didn’t reply, but it simply nodded.

“You are here to show me my future, I presume.” The upper portion of the garment was contracted for an instant in its folds, as if the spirit had inclined its head. That was the only answer he received.

The Phantom moved away as it had come towards him. Scrooge followed in the shadow of its dress, which bore him up, he thought, and carried him along.

The ghost walked up to the mural at the entrance of the BAU, right next to the elevators, where the wall of honor where there was pictures of all the fallen agents. He saw Anderson and an intern he didn’t recognize, probably from another floor. Anderson was putting a new photo in the wall, but Hotch couldn’t see it from where he was standing.

“No,” said Anderson, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know much about it, either way. I only know he’s dead.”

“When did he die?” inquired the intern.

“Last night, I believe.” He replied as he wiped beneath his eye with his knuckles.

“Why, what was the matter with him?” asked Gina Sharp, stopping by the two of them. “I thought he’d never die.”

“God knows,” said Anderson.

“What about the Behavioral Analysis Unit?” asked the intern.

“I haven’t heard yet, but they will find someone to replace him.” said Anderson again. “Maybe Rossi will take over, perhaps. Or maybe Prentiss. No one has notified me. That’s all I know.”

“It’ll likely be a very cheap funeral,” said Gina. “I heard he didn’t leave any family behind.”

“Just his son, Jack, and a brother, I think.” answered Anderson.

The group quickly dispersed, going back to their jobs. Hotch knew them, and looked towards the ghost for an explanation.

The ghost glided on into the bullpen. Its finger pointed to Hotch’s office. Hotch walked up to his door, listening again, thinking that the explanation might lie here.

He looked around to find Emily sitting in his chair, and though the clock pointed to his usual time of day for being there, he saw no likeness of himself among the multitudes that poured in through the office. It didn’t surprise him, he supposed one day he’d eventually retire, opting for going back to practicing law or only sticking to teaching negotiation techniques at the Academy. Emily looked tired, purpling bags forming under her eyes and at least a handful of grey hairs on her head.

She quickly stood up, walking past Aaron and the ghost and going up to David’s office. “We’ve got a new case, a child abduction. So far, only one victim, but seeing as we are short two pair of hands now I really need you to go. Are you okay with that?” Emily started and David looked up, and she returned his gaze with a gentle calmness.

“Sure. It’s what he’d have wanted.” Rossi replied, hiding a few stray tears. “One last rodeo, then. Next week will be my last with the team.”

Emily turned to face the rest of the team: “Conference room in five.” she called to the bullpen, a hush falling over the office as everyone paused to listen.

And like that, all of the familiar faces were moving slowly, Prentiss, Morgan and JJ found their way to the conference room.

Garcia was wearing all black, a sight never seen before at the office, not masking the pain in her eyes. Reid followed soon behind her, hunching as he walked, as if folding in on himself. Hotch noticed there was no sign of you. He looked over to the ghost, who stood still. He supposed he still needed to hear whatever was about to happen.

In the conference room, two chairs remained empty. “I just can’t believe it.” said JJ.

“I know, to think if I had stopped by his office, if I had insisted that he should join us for the party, and now…” Garcia said, breaking off in another round of sobs, and Hotch could feel his heart tearing to pieces. What happened to his team?

“You don’t have to tell me, baby girl.” Derek said, sounding sympathetic. “None of us saw it coming until it was too late to stop it.”

“So, have all of you given some thought to what we discussed? Sabbaticals, transfers, reassignments. All of you have options if you chose to no longer be part of the unit.”

A chorus of yes was heard around the room.

Rossi stood up: “I have told you all, I’m choosing to go back into retirement. After… after all that happened, I’m not ready to go back into the field.”

“Of course.” JJ said. “I’ll be taking a sabbatical to be with my family, I think it’s something important for me.”

As she said, this, you appeared at the room. Hotch had never seen you like this, wearing an old t-shirt from the FBI Academy and sweatpants. “I’m sorry for being so late.”

“It’s okay, we all understand.” Emily said.

As the photos of the next case were being shown, Hotch turned to the ghost. “I don’t understand. What has happened?” he demanded. “Why are you showing me this? Who is the person they’re talking about? Am I in danger of sharing his fate? Of losing everything? Is that it?”

Nothing. Instead, the spirit turned back toward the doorway, Hotch falling into step behind it, and followed it through to the unknown. The scene around them changed and Hotch found himself standing in an open field.

The spirit was as silent as ever. Hotch followed it as they reached an iron gate. He paused to look round before entering. A graveyard. The ground was covered in snow, but he could see it was overrun by grass and weeds, the growth of vegetation’s death, not life.

His mind quickly jumped to conclusions. Oh, no. He looked at the ghost for an explanation. The spirit was standing among the graves, and pointed down to one in particular. Hotch felt the blood in his veins turn into ice.

Aaron sank to his knees, one hand coming up to brush away the layer of snow that had blown up against it. “Aaron Joseph Hotchner. Father, brother, and friend. 1970-2018. Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity.”

“No…” he moaned. “No… it can’t be. It’s not supposed to be like this, it can’t be like this!” Choking back a second sob, he rested his head against the marble.

“Who are you?!” he demanded, anger and panic and anguish bubbling up in his chest and threatening to drown him. “Only cowards hide their faces, so remove your helmet and show me your face!”

The ghost watched him silently. Taking off its hood, Aaron Hotchner felt all the air leave out his lungs as he looked at his very own face.

“No, it can’t be. How can you be me?!”

“I’m not you.” the ghost said in a voice that sounded too much like his. “I’m the Ghost of Christmases Yet to Come. I’m here to show you the future consequences of your actions.” The face before Hotch was a blank mask as he delivered his prophecy. No emotion, no inflection, the effect reminding him too much of the day where George Foyet appeared in his apartment.

“Wait!” he yelled, “ Wait! This is not how my life it’s supposed to end! Let me put things right!” but the fog was growing thicker, obscuring the spirit from view. He was running, lungs burning in the cold air as he rushed through the cemetery.

He faltered, falling into his knees, sobs overtaking him. He collapsed, as his surroundings changed once again. Instantly, he was back at the office.

THE END OF IT

Yes! He was back at his makeshift bed, in his empty office and he was the happiest he’d ever been. Not knowing what hour it was, he walked into the bullpen and was now standing there: perfectly winded.

"I don't know what day of the month it is," said Hotch. "I don't know how long I have been among the Spirits. I don't know"

Running to the window, he opened it, and put out his head. The sun shined bright outside, the air was clear and cold, he could fill the blood pumping through his veins. Best and happiest of all, the time before him was his own, to make amends in!

He walked into the corridor, bumping with Anderson, who carried a pile of files. “What’s today?” Hotch asked.

"Eh?" returned Anderson, very confused. If there was one person he could always count on to know the day, it was Agent Anderson.

"What's today?" repeated Hotch, with such a happy mood he could not remember the last time he had felt this happy.

“Well, it’s Christmas Day."

"Christmas Day! Thank you, Anderson. You can have the full holiday off, spend however you want.” Hotch smiled.

"Are you serious?"

“Yes! Go, go, I’ll take care of things around here.” he ushered the younger man out the door. "I haven't missed it. The Spirits have done it all in one night. They can do anything they like. Of course, they can. Of course, they can." said Hotch to himself. Turning back and rushing back to his office, he slammed the door behind him. He threw himself into his couch and starred at the clock. It was just past 8 in the morning. He felt too wired to try and sleep, even though he was sure he hadn’t slept at all that night.

“My brother.” he exclaimed, frantically looking for his phone. The device light up, and he saw there were a couple of missed calls.

After talking to his brother, which was “fine, thank you very much, are you sure you’re okay, Aaron?” and making sure Jack was having a great time with his grandfather and aunt - even asking if he could stay there another day, he stood at his desk, not sure what else to do.

Apologies didn’t seem fitting to be said over the phone. You needed to know how much you meant to him, in person.

Rossi wasn’t sure what surprised him most: that it was Hotch knocking at his door just as brunch began, or that he had a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

Now that he was face to face with the older agent, he wasn’t sure what to do, looking slightly abashed.

“Good morning, Dave. Does the invite still stand? I thought about it, and I…” he took a deep breath. “I’d really like to celebrate with you guys for a while, if that’s okay.”

“I see no reason why not. You’re part of the team, after all.” Rossi said, pulling Aaron into a backslapping hug. “Just keep it quiet, okay? Things got a bit carried away in the alcohol department last night.”

“Sure, you won’t even hear my presence.”

“Don’t overdo it, Aaron.” Rossi said, beckoning him into the house.

You suddenly appeared, hair a complete mess and mascara blurred. You looked perfect in Hotch’s opinion. He eyed you in your red dress, smiling to himself as if were part of an inside joke.

“Hotch? Is everything alright? Have we got a case?” you asked, stifling a yawn. He couldn’t help but giggle. Aaron Hotchner actually giggled.

He drew the bouquet from behind his back, holding them up as one did in a romantic comedy. “Hi,” he exhaled, giving you a boyish smile. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” you returned automatically, then looked up at him in confusion. “Is that for… me?”

“Yes, I didn’t know what kind of flower you wanted, so I just got a bunch of them.” He looked up at you with wonder in his eyes, and you felt like the air had been knocked out of you.

You laughed and thanked him, but something still plagued you. “Hotch?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you here?” His eyes softened a bit, and he looked at you once more. Then, something new flickered across his face. Determination. He met your eyes.

“I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable but I have to be completely honest with you. I can’t keep denying what I’m feeling.”

“And what is that?” you asked, not wanting to get your hopes up.

“That I’m in love with you.” he said.

“You love me?” You asked.

“I do. And I know it’s wrong, I’m your boss, we work together. But I can’t help how I feel. And I know I have the worst possible timing in the world but-“ You shut him up with your lips. Hotch was caught by surprise but you felt him relax as you brought your hands up to his neck.

He pulled away to catch his breath, looking deep into your eyes. “You’re beautiful in the morning, you know that?”

“You’re a tease, Aaron Hotchner.” you laughed. “And I’m in love with you too.”

“So, what do you say about going to that concert with me?”

“I’d like that. I’ve…wanted that from you for a while. Took you long enough.”

“I know. But you mean so much to me, I’m hoping to make up for it.”

“You better.” you smiled again, that same little smile that was reserved for him, and he felt a pleased flush of warmth this time, spreading from his middle outward to his extremities, “but what brought all this on?”

Aaron huffed and pressed his forehead to yours. “Let’s just say I had some… interesting visitors last night.”

The two pressed together in a kiss, full of promises and potential. In the background, the BAU team cheered, for once in his life, Aaron Hotchner had a real shot at long-lasting happiness.

THE END

#cat writes #12 days of christmas #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner angst #tw: childhood trauma #tw: alcohol #cw: mentions of violence #cw: child neglect #aaron hotchner needs a hug #angst with happy ending #inspired by a christmas carol #past haley brooks x aaron hotchner

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