#Thankfully I can usually tell a few chapters in

[demigod-shenanigans]

The choiceless hope in grief (chapter 2)

Summary: Leo Valdez has lived and died for the gods. Their war has shaped his life since he was a baby. With Gaia defeated, he sort of hopes he can finally rest. He has friends and some semblance of home to return to for the first time since he was eight years old. Just this once, he allows himself to hope the good things might stick.

But the gods aren’t done with them just yet, and by the time Leo finds his way back, Jason is gone.

This time, Leo decides he’s done just taking the Fates’ bullshit lying down. If getting his best friend back means striking a deal with the gods and venturing into the Underworld… well, it’s probably not even the most reckless thing he’s ever done.

The caveat of said deal? He has to trust Jason will follow him, or his self-doubt will doom them both.

And after the life he’s lived, Leo is so intricately familiar with self-doubt that he could probably trademark the word.

Or: The only possible way for Orpheus to succeed is if he learns to think of himself as a person worth loving.

Word Count for chapter 2: ~6k

Rating: Teen and Up

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General notes for this chapter: -More grief/self-loathing themes. Not sure if I’ll be warning for those for each chapter individually since they’re quire relevant to the overall fic, but it’s been a minute, so I thought the reminder probably couldn’t hurt. (It having been a hot minute since I posted the first chapter is also the reason why I put the fic summary here again, I won’t do that for every chapter) -This does also go into the demigod deaths from Tyrant’s Tomb (at least a little bit). The death toll in that book is huge and I honestly found it really upsetting. I’m aware the Hunters don’t canonically stay behind to help rebuild but this is my fic and I can do what I want <3

-For my sanity and yours, we’re suspending our disbelief and taking the fact that Calypso is mentally sixteen in canon at face value. Her and Leo have a variety of problems, and, as should be clear by the premise of this fic, they’re not gonna last, but please note that I will be treating them both as traumatized teenagers.

———

Chapter 2: Piper tries to make burritos unsupervised

The first Iris Message came through on the ninth of April, barely ten minutes after breakfast. Piper’s dad was already at work, which at least meant they thankfully didn’t have to explain why there was a floating rainbow that had people’s faces in it chilling in the middle of the living room.

It was Thalia and Reyna. 

Leo hadn’t even realized they knew each other, but apparently the Hunters of Artemis—Diana, whatever—had come to Camp Jupiter’s aid. This should have been a relief, but there was no relief to be found in Reyna’s expression. The only flicker of joy he saw on her face was when she told them she’d be joining the Hunters.

It wasn’t the kind of decision Leo had expected from Reyna. Then again, she barely looked like the same girl that had shown Leo around New Rome with a proud smile, eagerly listening to and expanding on Leo’s ideas for fortifications and long-range weaponry. Had it really only been a few weeks since then? It felt like a lifetime ago now.

There was still that same grim set to Reyna’s jaw, but her usual proud posture looked more like she was… well, posturing, for lack of a better word. And the expression on her face… 

Leo knew that expression. He had seen it in the mirror many times as a child, and again in the last few weeks. It was the expression of someone who’d seen their home get burnt down to the foundations and found themself sitting in the wreckage.

He knew the kind of news they were getting even before Reyna started telling them what had happened.

Thalia was easier to look at—Thalia, whose grief was all fury, small bolts of electricity dancing through her dark hair like she was the human embodiment of a storm cloud.

At that moment, she looked nothing like Jason. It was such a relief that Leo almost cried.

They’d won the battle against the emperors, but Reyna called it a Pyrrhic victory—one that was so disastrous for the victors that it was basically indistinguishable from a defeat.

New Rome was in ruins. So many had been wounded. Even more people were dead.

Leo felt sick to his stomach. He’d known some of these demigods. Not well, admittedly, but he’d fought side by side with them. The thought that so many lives had been cut short, and that none of the gods had bothered to interfere for the longest time, despite the fact that it was their kids down there, made him want to punch something. 

Knowing that at least some of them had probably been friends with Jason in the life he’d never properly remembered, and how desperately Jason had always tried to protect everyone when the gods couldn’t be bothered to… 

Leo clenched his trembling fists, flames dancing in his curls and licking at his arms, all the way up to his elbows.

He needed to go outside and cool down for a bit to avoid lighting Piper’s bedroom on fire by accident.

~~~~ They were talking about Jason’s funeral when he got back. Thalia hadn’t been able to make it, which felt like a punch to the gut. She hadn’t found out he’d died until after it was already over. Percy and Annabeth still didn’t know, and Reyna wasn’t sure about Nico.

And there was the regret Leo had been so terribly afraid of feeling. He didn’t regret keeping Piper safe, especially not after hearing just how hard-won the ensuing battle had been. She was sitting here, next to him, alive, and nothing would ever make him regret that. It wasn’t even that he suddenly thought attending the funeral would have brought him any closure. How the fuck could there ever be closure for something like this?

But the thought of Jason, who’d been abandoned by both of his parents and had his memory wiped by his patron—whose camp had barely looked for him after he’d gone missing—going into death alone, surrounded mostly by strangers who had only known the person he’d been before he’d lost his memories, if that, made Leo feel sick to the stomach. 

It didn’t matter that he knew Jason would have cared more about them being safe than he would have about them attending the funeral. It felt like failing him all over again.

“I ditched you both in life, and now he’s gone, and I couldn’t even bother to be there for him, then.”

His eyes were swimming again. Piper wrapped her arms around him wordlessly. 

Reyna—serious, stoic, collected Reyna—had an expression on her face like she wanted to reach through the Iris Message and pat his head.

“I held some private rites for him,” Thalia said gently. It wasn’t worded as a suggestion, but the meaning was clear anyway. “I’ve also spent a lot of extra time shooting arrows at stuff lately. It helps, if only a little.”

“The only thing I could shoot here is Leo, and he hasn’t annoyed me that much yet,” Piper commented, so Leo promptly kicked her in the shin. “Ow! Actually, keep it up and I might use you for target practice, after all.”

“You can’t. I still owe Thalia hot sauce.”

It was such an absurd statement that even Reyna almost cracked a smile. “Yeah, I’m going to need context on that one.”

~~~~

Two hours later, a rainbow image of Frank and Hazel popped up. The worst part of that conversation was them asking how exactly it had happened, because apparently Apollo had performed a song about it, which had been emotional but not super clear on the details. Piper struggled to tell the story again, and she was reassured several times that she didn’t have to, but she pushed through. The only slight comfort was that Jason would have been dead right away—hopefully he hadn’t been in pain for long.

The second worst part of the conversation was way more mundane: Frank asking what their plans were going forward. 

Leo didn’t think there would be much going forward for him, just in general. In his mind, he’d been planning on staying in this reprieve forever—playing video games and getting lost in the woods with Piper as they continued to pointedly ignore the emptiness of the third chair at their little table.

Jason’s face kept popping up in his dreams, but the days were mostly bearable as long as he was here with Piper.

But then Piper talked about school, and the classes she was planning to take, and the possibility of college somewhere in the area. She talked about her dad and camping and maybe getting a job to help out.

Things that a person with a normal life would have done.

And, okay, maybe a part of Leo had realized that his idea of the future wasn’t exactly realistic. He also realized he couldn’t stay 

there forever. He didn’t want to be a burden on Piper and Tristan. He knew how long Piper had been wanting to properly spend time with her dad, and now she actually had the chance to, and here Leo was, inserting himself right into the middle of their already complicated father-daughter-relationship. He wasn’t supposed to be here, messing this up for her.

As much as he disliked thinking about this, he couldn’t keep ignoring that particular part of reality. He’d already spent too much of his life in homes where he wasn’t wanted. He couldn’t stand the thought of bothering Piper so much that she started feeling that way about him, too.

As good as it felt to see Hazel and Frank, a part of Leo was relieved when they ended that call. The even more horrible, selfish part of him was also glad Hazel had promised to be the one who told Nico. Leo didn’t know him that well, but he knew Nico didn’t have many friends and that he’d already lost too much. That particular breakdown Leo felt like he was in no way equipped to handle. He could hardly even deal with himself right now.

The calls didn’t stop. 

Piper’s siblings called, asking how she was and what had happened, and so they had to tell the story again, tearing off the scab and making their wounds bleed all over the place. 

Then, like everything else wasn’t bad enough, Leo got an IM from a very anxious Harley, who seemed relieved he was alive and asked when he was coming back to camp. 

“Don’t know yet,” Leo said, forcing a smile. “Probably not for a while. I’ll call you, though. I promise.”

He didn’t have the heart to tell his kid brother that he wasn’t sure he was ever coming back—that even thinking about stepping into this place that was brimming with memories of Jason made him feel sick to the stomach.

Leo supposed he couldn’t blame Reyna for wanting to leave behind a city full of ghosts when he couldn’t even handle one of them.

~~~~

Shel invited Piper out for coffee two days later. Via letter, of all things, because obviously Piper hadn’t had a phone number to give her but Shel apparently wouldn’t let that stop her.

“You falling out of a tree really did it for her, hm?” Leo teased, trying to read the letter over Piper’s shoulder. 

“Har. Har. Har.”

“Hey, you were the one who said you liked me being supportive and annoying.” He nudged her. “Come on, what’s it say?”

“Like I told you, she just asked me to grab coffee with her.” She folded the letter before he could get a proper look at it, but Leo knew it had way too much text to just be that. 

“Liar.”

“Okay, okay.” Piper held up her hands defensively. “She really did just ask, but she might have done it with a poem.”

“Damn.” Leo raised his eyebrows. “You think she’s picked out engagement rings yet?”

“Shut up.”

“I will refer back to your comment about liking that I’m supportive and annoying again! You’ll never get me to shut my mouth now. Besides, I did promise to make you regret saying you missed me,” he teased her. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

Piper snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Shel’s picking me up in an hour. Are you sure you’ll be alright here on your own?” 

It was clear that she was reluctant to leave him, especially since her dad was at work. 

Truthfully, Leo wasn’t super thrilled about the thought of being alone, either. But it was clear that Piper wanted to do this, and that was more important than him not wanting to be alone for a few hours.

He could totally do this. He’d spent a pretty large chunk of his life alone. He had plenty of experience keeping himself busy.

“I’ve third-wheeled on enough of your dates for one lifetime, thanks,” Leo informed her, still grinning. “Besides, I should probably call my own girlfriend. That’ll be a lot less awkward without you being around to give me shit.”

Because contacting Calypso may have barely crossed his mind in the past few weeks due to him being both a garbage boyfriend and a garbage person just in general, but at least in theory, they were still dating.

Piper stuck her tongue out at him, and he just hoped his laugh wasn’t too obviously fake.

“For the record, though, this won’t be a date,” Piper said determinedly. “I’m not- I don’t think that would be fair to Shel. Not when I still have so much to figure out, and not when I’m still dealing with… you know.”

“For the record, I don’t think Jason would be the type to show up and haunt his ex during dates. If he does, let me know, because then I might have to unfriend him post-mortem.”

He knew Piper didn’t love when he made these kinds of jokes, but she never told him to stop. Humor had always been how he coped. Piper got that.

“Leo.” Piper groaned, exasperated. “Be serious for a second, yeah?”

“Oh, I’m super serious. Possessive ghost exes are a total friendship dealbreaker for me.” Leo nudged her again. “As the resident expert on constantly getting rejected, maybe don’t take my advice on this, but I don’t think there’s a timeline for these things. It’s okay if you find her cute. I think he’d want you to be happy. That’s the kind of awful sap he is.”

Leo realized he’d slipped into present tense again, but he didn’t have it in him to correct himself. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

“I do find her cute. I just don’t think I’m ready for a relationship at the moment.”

“That’s fair.” Leo shrugged. “If I don’t get to be best man at your wedding, I’ll be really pissed, though.”

Piper stepped on his foot, so he kicked her in the leg and a moment later, they were swatting each other with pillows like they were little kids. Piper was actually laughing. For the first time in weeks, she seemed genuinely excited about something. And Leo wanted her to be happy. He was glad at least one of them was.

~~~~

The door closing behind Piper was terrifying. Suddenly, Leo was truly alone with his thoughts for the first time since Jason had died. Even late at night, when his thoughts inevitably drifted in all kinds of awful directions, Piper was there. Even if she was asleep and all he could do was hear her breathing, that still helped. This? Being alone with his thoughts in a completely quiet room? 0/10 experience, would not recommend.

He didn’t give himself much time to think. He rummaged around in his tool belt and pulled out a golden drachma for an Iris Message—as upset as Leo was with all the gods right now, he supposed at least his dad had the decency to actually give him an allowance—then pulled out the device he’d been working on. It was a small cylinder, no larger than the palm of his hand, and it obediently folded out into a prism at the push of a button. You just needed to fill it with water, switch it on, and voilà: you got yourself a rainbow. It even had an inbuilt flashlight in case you needed to use it when the sun was out.

He tried to swallow his anxiety and flipped the drachma into the rainbow.

“Iris, goddess of the Rainbow, please accept my offering. Show me Calypso. Waystation, Indianapolis.”

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the rainbow flickered and an image appeared—blurry at first, then slowly taking shape. Calypso was sitting at a desk by a window, brooding over some notebook that almost looked like…

Leo blinked.

“Huh, am just heroically saving you from your homework?”

Calypso’s head snapped up. Her eyes went wide as saucers. “Leo?” 

“I do recall that being my name, yes.” He grinned and waved. “Hi.”

He tried to remember how to talk to Calypso. The thing was, Leo wasn’t sure he’d ever actually known. Hell, even if he had, how exactly did you greet a girl you’d sort of ditched a few weeks ago and hadn’t called since?

Calypso didn’t look very amused. “Where are you? You were gone so long that- I was beginning to think you’d died!”

“Well, yeah, I did,” Leo said with a shrug. “That’s how I rescued you, remember?” 

It was easier to say that than to say anything else. To admit it really did feel like there was a part of him that had died and that he was never getting back. He didn’t want to have to actually talk about Jason—to tell the story again—especially not without Piper there. 

He realized his mistake a moment too late. Calypso’s eyes flared with anger.

“For the last time, you did not rescue me!” she snapped. “And do you think that’s funny? You disappear for weeks without a word, and that’s one of the first things you say to me? Do you have any idea how worried we were?”

Right. Joking back and forth with Piper had been so natural and easy that he’d briefly forgotten Calypso didn’t like it when he did that.

Okay, admittedly, Piper probably wouldn’t have appreciated that particular joke either. She would have crossed her arms and told him off. But they would have been okay, after.

He never felt like he and Calypso were okay, coming out of these arguments. Most of the time, he just felt like shit.

“Yeah, well, things happened. And it’s not my fault communications were down.” He didn’t look at the image in the rainbow.

“What is it?” Her voice softened a little. “What happened?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Well that’s not exactly helpful,” she huffed. “Will you tell me when you’re coming back home, at least? Maybe we can talk then.”

Leo was pretty sure he visibly winced at the word ‘home’. He wasn’t sure what the Waystation was, but he’d only spent a few days there. It wasn’t a bad place, but it most definitely wasn’t home. Home had burnt down when he’d been eight years old. The only other home Leo had ever found was ashes scattered across the ruins of New Rome now. 

Leo pushed the thought away. He had to keep it together. 

“I… listen, I don’t know yet. I just need some time to… I don’t know. Process, I guess.” 

“Process whatever it is you’re refusing to tell me about.” Calypso crossed her arms. “Fine. But you are coming back?”

There was an edge to her voice now—that of someone who had been left behind a few too many times. Over the course of her life, every person who’d ever kept her company had eventually dipped and left her heartbroken, never sparing her another thought. 

And now Leo had done the exact same thing.

Wow, he was a terrible person.

“Obviously.”

He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t continue bothering Piper when she clearly wanted to at least try to move on. And he had promised Calypso to try and stay somewhere with her—to live a normal life with her. Going back on that wasn’t fair to her. Not even when he was sure he was too broken to live that kind of life—too broken for anyone to ever properly put him back together. 

Staying here wasn’t fair on poor Festus, either. Leo knew his dragon friend didn’t like being folded up into suitcase form as much as he was, but Piper’s new home wasn’t exactly made for huge metal dragons. 

Leo tried to keep talking to Calypso. He really did. She lit up a little when he asked about school, and so they talked about that for a while. Calypso told him about classmates she got along with and how she liked marching band and Emmie tutoring her in the subjects she didn’t understand. 

Leo listened and tried to get past the fact that he just didn’t get it. He tried to grasp her excitement for a place that had at best been boring as hell and at worst been actual torture for him. 

“That sounds… I’m glad you’re happy.”

“I wish you were here. You’ve already missed several weeks of classes, but I think you’d like this school.”

Leo almost laughed. “I highly doubt that. They have yet to invent a school that can even contain me, never mind one that I actually like.” 

“If you’re still refusing to engage in any sort of actual conversation with me that even vaguely implies there is a future where you may be coming back,” Calypso said bitingly, “will you at least tell me where you are so we can all stop worrying so much?” Leo kept brushing past the answer to that question because he knew it would prompt more questions that he wasn’t ready to get into. “Did you manage to help Camp Jupiter?”

“I-” Leo’s throat closed up. Not enough, his brain supplied. I couldn’t save Jason, and I couldn’t protect his home, either. I’m not sure me going there made a difference at all. He couldn’t bring himself to say any of that. “Kind of. I’m with Piper right now.”

Calypso’s expression soured even further.

“You ditched me and let me think you were dead for weeks so you could hang out with your friends? Let me guess, Jason is there, too.”

Somewhere, there was a rational part of Leo’s brain that realized this did sound bad. If he had been listening to that rational part right now, he probably could have had a mature conversation about this with Calypso. They could have resolved this like reasonable people.

But at the mention of Jason’s name, he just shut down. He did not tell Calypso anything. He just hung up on her.

~~~~

Leo showered, so by the time Piper got home he didn’t look like he’d spent the past hour curled up in a corner, bawling his eyes out.

Piper wasn’t an idiot, though. She knew that something was up the second she stepped through the door to find Leo in the kitchen making burritos.

“You okay?”

“Just got hungry.” He shrugged, like he wasn’t in fact trying to cook out the feelings he hadn’t been able to get rid of with his tears. It hadn’t really worked—cooking couldn’t exactly fix relationship issues or the fact that his best friend was dead—but rolling up the ingredients in one of his handmade tortillas at least helped keep his hands busy, and he actually was a little hungry. “You can have one, if you didn’t already eat on your date. Ingredients are pick what you want,” he said, gesturing at the mess of bowls and the still sizzling pan of fried tofu, “but they’re all vegetarian.”

“You are my favorite person in the whole entire world, and also definitely trying to distract me,” Piper said, shaking her head, but she did move to fill up one of the still-warm tortillas with a ridiculous amount of black beans, lettuce and tofu, combined with not nearly enough salsa, as far as Leo was concerned. “And it wasn’t a date.”

“Mhm, sure. Did you guys-” Leo broke off in horror. He’d been watching Piper work, and sure, he’d been lovingly judging some of her completely unbalanced food combos in his head, but this he could no longer tolerate. “Pipes, what in the world are you doing? I’m unfriending you.” 

He set his own food down on his plate and moved to stand beside his best friend. Screw the date interrogation, for now he had to save Piper’s poor tortured burrito.

“I thought I just had to roll the tortilla. Did I put too much stuff on it and that’s why it doesn’t work?”

She’d been trying to roll the entire thing in a single direction, impressively managing to make her excessive amounts of filling spill out of three sides at once. 

“This is what I get for briefly forgetting you grew up a rich kid with a private chef,” Leo groaned, shaking his head in exaggerated disbelief. He gently shoved Piper away from the kitchen counter to do rescue breathing on her half-slaughtered dinner. “You can’t roll it like that, you absolute heathen. You need to tuck the sides in. Here, like this. That way you won’t end up with ingredients all the way down your shirt.”

He gently opened the tortilla back up, took a spoon to move the filling Piper hadn’t spilled to the middle and then rolled it properly, like his mom had shown him when he’d been five. He made a point of doing it way slower than necessary, like he actually expected Piper to memorize the steps and maybe take notes.

“Okay, okay, point taken.” Piper raised her hands. “But heathen is a hilarious insult considering we both have a Greek god for a parent.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a riot.” Leo grinned, neatly cutting the burrito down the middle and handing the plate back to Piper. Then, he started wiping down the counter. Kitchens were the only work spaces Leo had ever properly bothered to keep tidy. “Now that neither you nor your food are at immediate risk of death, tell me how things went with Shel. You engaged yet? For your sake, I hope she’s better at rolling burritos than you, because otherwise you’re both doomed.”

He made a show of looking at her hands like he was actually expecting to find a ring.

“Shut up.” Piper rolled her eyes, but she smiled. “It was pretty great, actually.”

“Hello? Details?” Leo waved his hands in circles for emphasis. “You don’t seriously think I’m letting you off the hook that easily, do you?”

Instead of moving towards the table like she should have, Piper flopped down on the small couch with her food, so Leo grabbed his plate and joined her there. He wasn’t complaining about dinner on the couch.

“I’m only telling you if you tell me what’s up with you first. Because, distraction or not, you won’t get rid of me that easily, either.” She nudged him gently, then stuffed her mouth with food like she was trying to emphasize she wouldn’t go first.

Her face melted into a completely content expression, and Leo immediately felt happier.

“That good, hm?” Piper made a humming noise of confirmation. “Then I think you owe it to me to tell me how your date was. I promise I’ll tell you what’s up with me after,” Leo said with a grin.

He knew he had to give her something or she would never talk, but he really wanted to hear about Piper’s day before he went and ruined the mood.

“Ugh. You’re the worst.” Piper sighed, letting herself fall against the sofa’s backrest dramatically. “Fine. But only because you’ll be completely unbearable otherwise.”

“You know me so well.”

Leo tried not to feel a sting at how great Piper’s day had been without him there. What he felt when she talked wasn’t the same painful sting he’d felt when it had been her and Jason dating, though Leo couldn’t quite explain why. Most of him didn’t mind this. Hell, most of him was happy for her.

But it certainly didn’t help the feeling that he wasn’t exactly needed here.

The not-date itself actually sounded pretty nice, as long as Leo managed to make all the useless voices in his head shut up.

Shel and Piper had grabbed coffee (which Leo couldn’t sympathize with) and just talked for ages. Shel was apparently on her school’s swimming team, did theatre in her free time and liked a lot of the same music and movies as Piper. She’d lived in Tahlequah her entire life. She’d also known she was a lesbian since she was eight years old.

At that point, Piper had apparently felt like she owed her some sort of heads up—both about the fact that she was still new to all this and about having recently lost a really close friend that she’d dated at some point and how that didn’t leave her with much headspace to figure out… everything else.

That seemed like a lot to share so early on, but Piper said Shel hadn’t minded. She’d just thanked her for being so honest, and told her she was there if Piper needed someone to talk everything through with.

“Which I obviously can’t, because well, if I told her a Roman Emperor came back to life and stabbed my ex, she’d definitely think I’ve lost it completely, but it’s a nice sentiment.”

“Yeah, I thought everything else was already a bit much, but ‘my mom is a Greek goddess, I can brainwash people and me and my friends saved the world last year’ really isn’t a conversation for a first date.”

Leo wasn’t sure how Piper could stand it. The thought of having to keep most of his life secret from a mortal parent and any new friends he made seemed impossible to him. Hell, even if he’d wanted to, Leo was pretty sure he’d inevitably slip up and make a joke about the time he almost got eaten by a giant killer shrimp, and that was if he didn’t anxiously catch himself on fire first.

“Anyway, she said it’s totally understandable that I need time, and if the worst she can get out of this is a friendship with a pretty girl, that’s still a win in her book. And she still insisted on paying, to welcome me here,” Piper told Leo fondly. “It was… I don’t know. She’s nice. I’ll probably end up at the same school as her, and she’s offered to show me around.”

“So, how soon can I expect a wedding invite?” Leo asked with a grin. “You’ll remember the best man thing, right?”

“Keep this up and you won't get an invite if I do actually get married one day,” she teased back, gently flicking him in the head. “Now, tell me what’s going on with you. You promised. Did your call with your girlfriend go okay?”

Leo winced, which was answer enough in his opinion, but he knew Piper would disagree with him on that one. He still didn’t want to have this conversation. He also really didn’t want to bring Piper down when she’d finally had a good day for the first time in ages.

But she was looking at him expectantly, and Leo knew that no matter how much he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to get out of this one.

“It wasn’t great. Apparently, me being gone for so long had everyone pretty worried. Go figure,” he admitted, hoping he could avoid elaborating. He didn’t exactly want to dump all of his relationship issues on Piper, especially since there wasn’t anything she could do to fix them. He knew it was sort of necessary to keep talking, but he could barely get the words out. “And, uh. Because of that, I think it might be time for me to head back to the Waystation.”

It was something he’d been thinking about on and off since that IM with Frank and Hazel. And as much as the thought of going back made his stomach pool with dread, the call with Calypso had just sealed the deal. Once he’d managed to stop crying like a baby and his heart had quit throbbing out a painful rhythm of Jason, Jason, Jason until he couldn’t breathe, Leo had at least tried to figure out what he wanted to do now. He couldn’t keep staying with Piper, who was finally starting to be somewhat okay again. He couldn’t keep ignoring the fact that he’d just ditched Calypso for the world’s longest, most depressing sleepover.

If he wanted any chance to salvage that situation, and if he wanted to give Piper a chance to actually move on instead of continuously dragging her down with him when he didn’t want to move on the way she was trying to, then he had to go back to the Waystation.

The teasing smile slid off Piper’s face.

“Oh,” she said, her lip wobbling a little. “Do you really have to go?”

Leo felt almost relieved that Piper seemed sad, though he realized maybe that was a bit of a shitty reaction on his part. At least he hadn’t completely annoyed his way out of this friendship just yet.

“See, that’s why I refused to go first. Instant mood killer.” He tried for a half-smile. “But yeah, I should probably go back soon. I’ve kind of been neglecting my girlfriend a whole bunch—I haven’t seen her in over a month, which is pretty shitty of me. Besides, poor Festus deserves to be in a place where it’s easier for him to stretch his legs. You know he doesn’t like being in sleep cycle this much.”

Piper wrapped her arms around herself. “I guess that makes sense, but- do you have to leave right now?” 

Leo shrugged. “I mean, I don’t think another day or two will make a difference at this point. I’m going to get an earful once I get back either way.”

“Okay. Good. I know that you can’t stay here forever. But I need a few more days with you. I’m sure Festus will forgive you eventually.” Piper was obviously trying to sound like she was teasing him, but something pleading, almost desperate crept into her voice, which had Leo worried. 

“Yeah. Festus.” Leo cringed internally. He actually wasn’t all that worried about Festus staying mad at him—sure, he might pout for a bit and would probably complain most of the way back to the Waystation, but he was usually easily appeased with enough motor oil, Tabasco sauce and maybe an upgrade or two.

Leo was unfortunately pretty sure his relationship issues with Calypso would need fixing that was beyond the magical abilities of Tabasco sauce—though what would fix them, he had absolutely no idea.

Them having problems wasn’t exactly new, and hadn’t entirely been caused by him running off on her now—even if that admittedly hadn’t helped.

“So, are we doing the world’s longest goodbye movie marathon, or do you need me for anything specific?” Leo joked, trying to hide his relief at getting to stay for a few more days, consequences for his relationship with Calypso be damned. “I know you’ve been lucky to bask in my presence for so long, I’d be reluctant to let me go, too, but that sounded like you might have actual plans.”

Piper didn’t laugh. She didn’t even roll her eyes at him, which was a terrible sign. 

“If you really have to leave, there’s something I want to do first.” She reached out and took his hands with shaking fingers. “I- I’ve been thinking. About what Thalia said. And I want to find a way to properly say goodbye, too. But I don’t think I can do this without you.”

Leo felt like someone had punched him. He could basically feel the way all color drained from his face at Piper’s words.

“I- I don’t know if I can-” he stammered, fighting his instinct to immediately turn on his heels and run—out of this room and this house and preferably the entire state of Oklahoma.

Joking about it was one thing. Facing the reality of it—the fact that Jason was truly gone and he’d never get to see him or hug him or joke with him again—was an entirely different beast.

Leo wasn’t sure he was ready for that. He wasn’t sure he would ever be ready for that.

“You don’t have to say or do anything you don’t want to. I promise,” Piper told him, gently squeezing his hand. “I won’t force you to do anything you don’t feel ready for, okay? I just need you there. Please?”

Piper wasn’t charmspeaking him. Leo would have known if she was, and he knew that she’d never do that to him—not when it came to something as important as this. But she was looking at him with such wild desperation in her eyes that it was still impossible for him to say no.

It didn’t matter if this didn’t help him. Piper needed it. He’d left her for over six months. She was the one who’d actually been present when Jason had died.

The thought of that kept him up at night. He kept imagining Piper kneeling over Jason. Piper shaking Jason’s shoulders and screaming his name, hoping desperately for an answer she’d never receive. Piper clutching Jason’s body to her chest for the very last time. Piper wailing on that awful beach while Leo was a thousand miles away.

He hadn’t been there for her when she’d needed him the most. This was the least he could do to start making things up to her.

“Okay,” he said, reaching out to pull Piper into his arms. It was a mostly selfish act, really—if he hadn’t been holding onto something, Leo wasn’t sure how he would have kept himself from falling apart. “What do you want to do?”

“Jason wasn’t just a Roman demigod. Not since-” Piper broke off, but Leo caught her meaning anyway. Not since he met us. “He belonged to both camps. That was important to him. I think he should have a proper Camp Half-Blood funeral, too.”

———

Some more notes:

So, it’s been six months since I posted the first chapter of this fic and about fourteen months since I first started working on it, and I am delighted to announce that it’s finally done! I can therefore reliably promise both weekly updates and that this fic won’t be abandoned partway through! Hooray!

It still feels kind of dizzying whenever I think about this story actually being done considering how long it’s been my main writing project. I originally thought this whole fic was going to be done in like three chapters. It turns out what my brain wanted instead was a whole Leo Valdez novel. I cannot say that I, personally, am upset about this outcome.

Special shout-out to my friends who have listened to me ramble and rant about this fic for months LMAO

I poured a lot of love into this story and I hope you’ll have a good time with it! Comments obviously super, super appreciated. Thank you all for reading!

Tag list: @poppitron360 @bookIshpolythist @lilyfrey @lady-silkwing @intenebrisobscurat @manygeese @ann-rex

(If anyone wants to be added/removed from the tag list, let me know!)

[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter three ♡

Summary: Life seems to smooth out with Travis, but an encounter with another Miller stirs your feelings again. Joel comes home at night, and a box waits for him at the kitchen. Word count: 4.8k A/N: Here is a shorter chapter (compared to the previous ones lol) while we're waiting for part 4… Can't wait for the Hoffman's barbecue. Joel isn't usually enthusiastic about it, but something tells me he's not going to miss it this time. ALSO, I have tried to tag all of you, but for some reason some tags don't work, if anyone knows how to fix it please let me know <3.

October 17th. The first thing you discovered was a black sweatshirt, crumpled and forgotten, stuffed in the back of your closet among old clothes and memories. You tossed it into the washing machine and set off to search your house for more of Joel’s things. It didn’t take long to find remnants of him: an old Pearl Jam T-shirt, a white mug bearing his initial that you’d pilfered a few months prior, a couple of CDs with his eclectic taste in music, a well-worn paperback novel, and a screwdriver—the very tool you had used to assemble the small piece of furniture for your bathroom, a testament to your attempts at domesticity.

You placed the T-shirt beside the sweatshirt in the washing machine, feeling a bittersweet nostalgia wash over you as the machine began to spin, the water swirling like your thoughts. The rest of his belongings you carefully set aside in a wooden box, considering when and if you would return them to him. Maybe it would be a gesture of goodwill, a way to close a chapter, but the thought of confronting him felt daunting, like standing on the edge of a cliff.

Three weeks later, the distance felt like a weight in your chest. You hadn’t spoken since that last conversation, and every accidental encounter with him had turned into a delicate dance of avoidance, your eyes darting away as if to shield yourself from the unspoken pain. You suspected he was doing the same—his awareness of your schedule precise, his movements deliberate. You didn’t blame him for it; there was a strange gratitude in the space he had created between you, a sanctuary that allowed both of you to breathe.

Sarah, on the other hand, was a constant presence in your life, her visits frequent and welcome. You couldn’t decipher what Joel had shared with her, but she was unequivocal in her understanding that something had shifted between you and her father. 

“Dad said I can come see you as long as I don’t ask too many questions and I don’t fall asleep,” she announced brightly the first afternoon she bounded into your home, just two days after your last exchange with Joel. “But I want you to know I won’t say anything if you want to tell me everything.” 

Her offer was a balm, and despite the lingering pain, you found yourself laughing, the weight lifting slightly as you embraced her. In that moment, you felt relieved to know that Joel had managed to compartmentalize, that his daughter was not to bear the burden of your heartbreak, nor was she responsible for the fallout. You wanted to continue seeing Sarah, and thankfully, she wanted to keep coming over, a small beacon of normalcy in a turbulent time. That connection remained untainted by the rift between you and Joel.

The clock ticked on, and now it was five o’clock on a crisp afternoon. You stood in your front yard, the late autumn sun warming the back of your neck as you surveyed your plants. Closing your eyes, you savored the gentle warmth, the way it wrapped around you like a familiar embrace. Your lawn and those of your neighbors glowed with the fiery hues of orange and yellow, leaves fluttering like confetti in the soft breeze. It was, as always, your favorite season.

Suddenly, a voice broke through your reverie, calling your name. You turned to see Travis crossing the street, his smile brightening the drab fall afternoon. You waved back, unable to suppress a smile of your own as he approached.

“Enjoying the sunshine?” he asked, stopping beside you, his hand settling on your waist as he leaned in to plant a soft kiss on your cheek.

“As much as I can,” you replied, a warmth spreading through you that was both comforting and surprising. Your gaze dropped momentarily to your feet before lifting back to meet his. “Going somewhere?”

“On a quest for dessert,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes. “Care to join?”

You hesitated, considering for a moment. “I’d better stay and get some work done,” you replied, gesturing toward your front door with a tilt of your head. “But let me know when you get back; I’d love to help with dinner.”

He nodded, a flicker of disappointment passing across his face before he masked it with a smile. After a brief goodbye, he left, giving your waist a gentle squeeze that sent a flutter through your stomach, leaving you feeling both elated and unsettled.

Two weeks prior, you had watched him run past your house, clad in sports gear, hair damp with sweat. There was something magnetic about him; he looked so effortlessly good that a rush of something—determination? Recklessness?—had surged through you. You couldn’t let your past with Joel hold you hostage any longer. It was absurd to keep Travis waiting, simply because you hadn’t been sure of what you felt, or how you should feel. So, you had gathered your courage and knocked on his door, your heart racing at the thought of stepping out of the shadows of your previous life.

When Travis opened the door, his surprise morphing into delight had made your resolve solidify. You’d admitted to him that you were navigating a rough patch, and to his credit, he seemed to understand without pressuring you further. That night, he whisked you away for dinner, and in the weeks that followed, the ease of your time together became a welcome reprieve. 

He was everything you needed—funny, honest, and refreshingly straightforward. He laid his feelings out without demanding anything from you, giving you space to breathe, to recalibrate. You had shared meals together, enjoying his company, indulging in laughter and sweet treats that he always brought, knowing they were your guilty pleasure. 

With him, everything felt uncomplicated, and the more time you spent together, the more you sensed your feelings beginning to shift, like the autumn leaves around you. That night, you resolved to let him make the first move, ready to embrace whatever came next.

*

“What did you think?” Travis asked, his gaze lingering on you, as if the answer might reveal something bigger.

You let out a laugh, the kind that builds in the chest and escapes before you can decide whether it’s actually funny or just absurd. “That was… utterly ridiculous,” you said, watching the movie credits roll up the screen. “Ridiculous and completely unbelievable.”

He grinned, sinking back into the couch beside you, his eyes meeting yours with a glint of shared amusement. “Right? It’s like... a marvel in chaos. Terrible, but in a way that you can’t look away.”

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a mix of disbelief and fondness for his strange taste in movies. Zombeavers. He’d made you watch Zombeavers—a movie so bizarrely nonsensical that you couldn’t help but laugh half the time, its zombie-beaver puppets meant to be terrifying but only succeeding in being bizarre. He’d assured you beforehand that it was purely for fun, the kind of film that didn’t demand to be taken seriously, and you’d been dubious but willing.

As your laughter softened, you shifted just a little closer to him, that familiar but thrilling nervousness making your heart flutter. Travis had turned his attention to scrolling through movie options, his fingers lightly tapping the remote as he concentrated. For a brief moment, you hesitated, wondering if it was obvious—how close you were, how much you wanted him to notice. Gathering your courage, you rested your head on his shoulder, letting your gaze drift up to his face just as he glanced down, his eyes softening.

“Are you sleepy, pretty girl?” he murmured, and his voice had that gentle, familiar warmth that made you feel like a teenager again. Your cheeks flushed, and you wondered if he could feel your pulse quicken against him.

“No,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper as you smiled up at him. Tentatively, you lifted a hand to trace the line of his jaw, your fingers grazing his skin as you tilted his face closer. “I just like being with you.”

Travis’s smile deepened, and he leaned in, his hand cradling your face with such tenderness that it nearly broke something in you. His lips met yours softly, a gentle touch, unhurried and respectful, his thumb brushing lightly across your cheek. You sank into the kiss, letting it ground you, feeling cherished and safe in a way you hadn’t for a long time.

But there, at the edge of your mind, was Joel. Joel with his intense, almost possessive hunger, the way he’d kiss you as if he were afraid he’d never have the chance again. That rawness, the recklessness—it was such a stark contrast to Travis’s gentle control, his restraint. And part of you hated yourself for even thinking about it, for craving something so reckless, for missing what you knew wasn’t good for you.

You pulled back slowly, afraid that your eyes might betray the swirl of conflicting feelings inside you. Travis’s gaze lingered, his hand still on your cheek, and he seemed almost reluctant to let you go, waiting for you to guide him back in. His patience was admirable, though you felt a strange frustration at the lack of urgency, the careful distance he maintained.

“I’m actually a little tired,” you said, giving him a quick peck on the lips, hoping he wouldn’t see through the slight restlessness in your eyes. “But I’d love to see you tomorrow. How about dinner at my place?”

He nodded, his face brightening. “Sounds perfect.” He stood, reaching out a hand to help you up. “I’ll walk you to your door, and that's just an excuse for another goodnight kiss.”

You laughed, reaching for his hand and letting him pull you up, feeling the warmth of his arm around you as you leaned against him. Outside, the air was brisk, the night cool against your skin, and you wished you’d thought to bring a jacket. Not that it mattered much; Travis lived just across the block, a short walk away, but close enough to Joel’s house that the proximity always felt strange. 

Crossing the street, you noticed Joel’s truck wasn’t there, and you willed yourself not to dwell on it, tuning back in to Travis’s voice as he asked, “Are you going?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Going where?” you asked, your voice apologetic. “Sorry, I zoned out for a second.”

“To the Hoffmans’ barbecue,” he said easily, unbothered by your momentary distraction.

Ah, the Hoffmans’ annual Halloween gathering, an event known for Brenda’s culinary enthusiasm and Ian’s grill mastery. Last year, Brenda had baked an array of spooky treats—eyeball jellies, spider cupcakes, you name it. Sarah had devoured at least ten jelly eyes, and you’d indulged in an uncountable number of chocolate spiders. The evening had ended with a viewing of Nightmare on Elm Street, and everyone had left buzzing with laughter and sugar.

“Yes, of course,” you replied, nodding with more enthusiasm. “Wouldn’t miss it. Brenda is amazing at baking. Have you tried her red berry cupcakes?”

“They’re dangerous,” Travis agreed, grinning as he walked you up to your doorstep.

A flicker of movement caught your eye, and you glanced over to see Tommy, Joel’s brother, sitting on the front porch of Joel’s house, a cigarette hanging lazily from his fingers. He watched you with a friendly, knowing smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back, though you quickened your pace slightly as you reached your door.

“So, what time tomorrow?” Travis asked, tilting his head.

“Eight?” you suggested, feeling an odd mix of excitement and unease.

“Perfect,” he replied, and once again his hand lifted to your cheek, thumb tracing the curve softly. But as he leaned in to kiss you, you couldn’t shake the feeling of invisible eyes from across the street, watching. Your mind lingered, unbidden, on Tommy’s piercing gaze.

Travis leaned down, and you met his kiss, brief, almost rushed, pulling away with a small, nervous smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you whispered, glancing up at him before stepping back. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, gorgeous,” he murmured.

You stood watching him leave, distractedly thinking about the evening you'd spent. You were annoyed that you hadn't accepted his date earlier, and at the same time, you didn't blame yourself too much. 

When Travis walked into his house and closed the door, an involuntary sigh escaped your chest.

"Everything okay over there?" Tommy’s voice jolted you out of your thoughts, sounding like a splash of cold water. He was sitting on the front steps, watching you with a casual curiosity that somehow felt entirely too knowing.

You approached slowly, glancing toward the empty entrance of Joel’s house.

"Hey, Tommy," you greeted, a hint of melancholy coloring your voice. It was strange, seeing him here alone—another Miller, but not the one who lingered in your mind. "How are you?"

Tommy stubbed out his cigarette on the step, shrugging with a small grin. "Well, currently on a break from babysitting duty," he joked. "What about you? It’s been a while—what’d Joel do now?"

A chuckle slipped from your lips, the irony of it all making your stomach tighten. He probably didn’t know anything, yet he’d been part of Joel’s carefully built wall of deception. It made you feel odd, but you brushed the feeling aside.

"I've just been busy," you said, knowing how unconvincing it sounded.

Tommy nodded, understanding the subtext without question. "Right," he said, an amused smile forming, "So, Dunn got the girl?"

You couldn’t help but smile back, though you realized too late that your openness might be ill-placed. "Yeah. He’s a good man. I really like him."

It felt surreal, sharing this with Joel’s brother, but somehow you didn’t mind.

"Sarah’s asleep?" you asked, changing the subject, hoping for some distraction.

He nodded, his smile softening. "Out like a light right after dinner. Poor kid didn’t even try the ice cream she begged me to get for movie night." He chuckled, shaking his head.

You smiled at the image, letting yourself savor the thought of Sarah, the cozy living room, the quiet warmth that had always drawn you to this house. It felt bittersweet, like glimpsing a life you no longer fit into. The last time you’d been there flickered in your mind, and any warmth vanished.

When you glanced back at Tommy, he was watching you, brow furrowed slightly, as if trying to read what you weren’t saying.

"I don’t mean to pry," he began cautiously, his tone gentle. "But Joel’s been… well, intolerable lately. Can I ask what happened?"

You raised an eyebrow, a sardonic smile creeping onto your lips. "Sure, Tommy," you replied, a touch of sarcasm bleeding through. "He hasn’t told you anything?"

"Are you kidding?" He laughed, shaking his head. "I asked him once, a couple of days ago, and he practically bit my head off."

You let out a dry sigh, crossing your arms. "He lied to me, pretty sure you know about that," you said, feeling the weight of it again. "We argued, and… things just happened."

Tommy’s eyes widened slightly, but the look of surprise faded quickly, replaced by a knowing smile. He stood up, crossing his arms as he stepped closer, his gaze amused and unrelenting.

"I knew it," he said, his grin widening. "You two slept together."

Your mouth fell open, and you dropped your arms, an incredulous laugh escaping.

"Shut up," you muttered, taking a step forward, cheeks flushing.

Tommy laughed, as if this moment had been a long time coming. "I always knew it would happen," he said, his tone only half-joking. "Ever since Joel introduced you, I swear, the guy had heart eyes and all. Poor guy looked like he was about to carve your name into every tree from here to the city limits. It was almost embarrassing."

You shook your head, a pang of sadness pressing on your chest. "That’s not it, Tommy. That’s not… it’s not true."

He studied you, unconvinced, his brow furrowing slightly, though the amused glint remained in his eyes.

"Joel doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want… us," you continued, your voice quiet but certain. "And honestly, I don’t think I do either." The words tasted bitter even as you said them, yet you held his gaze, determined to mean it. "I think I might actually like Travis."

"I see." Tommy’s nod was slow, his eyes searching yours as if detecting the truth you weren’t quite hiding.

“Where is he?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, and you almost wished you could take it back. You shouldn’t be concerned about where Joel was spending his nights. But curiosity itched at you, demanding answers.

Tommy hesitated, rubbing his hand over his mouth, glancing off as if debating whether to answer. The pause made you anxious, and you shifted under his gaze, feeling exposed. "He, um, he went to see—"

"Sienna," you finished, the name coming out like a blade you hadn’t prepared for. Tommy’s nod confirmed it, and you felt it cut a little deeper than you’d anticipated.

The thought of Joel being with her after being with you twisted something fierce and raw inside. Yet, a part of you was oddly grateful for the pain; it reminded you just how little he’d been affected by all of this, how seamlessly he’d returned to life as it had been. Why should he have changed anything for one night? That didn’t mean enough to make him reconsider Sienna, his plans, his life without you. It was unbearable and somehow clarifying.

With your voice steadier than you expected, you looked back at Tommy. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Come with me for a second." You spun on your heel, heading toward your house, and you heard Tommy’s footsteps fall into step behind you. Inside, you gestured for him to wait in the foyer, then climbed the stairs, your heart pounding. A rush of resentment, of something close to fury, washed over you. You had to rid yourself of everything that still held you back to him, everything he’d left behind.

When you came back down, you were carrying a box, simple and impersonal. Tommy glanced at it, lifting an eyebrow. "What’s that?"

"A couple of Joel’s things. Be a dear and save me the trip of bringing them back to him." You smiled tightly, the effort to stay composed nearly exhausting you.

Tommy laughed, clearly amused by the defiance in your expression.

"Yes, ma’am," he said with a grin, giving you a small salute as he took the box. You watched him step over the threshold, the box in his hands, feeling a strange mix of relief and something hollow.

"Thank you, Tommy," you said softly, closing the door as he left. Alone in the quiet of your house, your shoulders slumped, and all the strength you’d gathered felt like it was leaking away, leaving behind the ache of realization. Joel wasn’t just far from you; he was unreachable, a memory already fading, three weeks stretching like an eternity between you and the friend he’d once been.

*

Joel opened the door slowly, shoulders slumped, his gaze dropping to the floor before he even stepped inside. The house was dark and quiet, as if it were waiting for him to finally fill it. He glanced around the empty living room, feeling the stillness of the space, then checked the time on his wristwatch: 11 p.m. It felt later than that, somehow.

“Tommy?” he called, his voice breaking the silence as he moved into the kitchen, where he found his brother, casually leaning against the counter with a bowl of ice cream, looking like he’d been waiting all night.

“How was your night?” Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow, his tone almost amused, as if he were privy to some unspoken secret.

Joel exhaled, the kind of tired sigh that settled deep in his chest, and dropped heavily into one of the wooden chairs at the table. He rubbed a hand across his forehead, dragging it down over his mouth before resting it on the table, the weariness of the day palpable in the lines of his face. His eyes met Tommy’s probing gaze, and he tilted his head, frowning slightly.

“Fine,” he replied, his tone clipped and a little defensive. “How was Sarah?”

“She conked out right after dinner,” Tommy replied, a smirk beginning to play at the corners of his mouth, his eyes narrowing with that look of brotherly mischief. “And how was Sienna?”

Joel rolled his eyes, leaning back in the chair, shaking his head as if he could shake off the whole conversation.

“Are you staying over?” he asked after a few beats, redirecting, his voice carefully casual.

Tommy chuckled. “Only if you, sir, will permit me,” he replied with a mock salute.

“Fine,” Joel muttered, getting up from his seat. “Do what you want, but don’t be a pain in my ass,” he added, half-serious, half-amused, as he walked over to the counter beside his brother.

He pulled open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. Tommy watched him, saying nothing, but his gaze lingered, curious, perceptive. Joel poured water into a glass, bringing it to his lips, pausing for a long drink before turning to face his brother. He could feel Tommy’s gaze boring into him, the silence thickening between them.

Joel looked up, his own gaze steady.

“What?” he asked, the word flat, all pretense of patience gone.

“Nothing,” Tommy said, drawing the word out, clearly testing the limits of Joel’s patience. Then, almost too casually, he tilted his chin toward a box resting by the wall across the kitchen.

Joel followed his gaze, his brow furrowing as he walked over. He lifted the box, feeling the weight of it in his hands, then set it down on the counter. With a cautious look at Tommy, he placed his hands on the lid, hesitating.

“What’s this?” he asked, a note of suspicion in his voice.

Tommy leaned back, watching him with a faint smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

“Your girl next door gave it to me,” he replied, each word almost too measured. “Said it was yours.”

For a few moments, Joel just stood there, as if frozen, processing Tommy’s words. He looked down, finally lifting the lid and peering inside. There, neatly folded, was his sweatshirt—the one he’d handed you one chilly evening when he picked you up from work. Beneath that was his old Pearl Jam t-shirt, the one you’d borrowed after a swim in his pool last summer. His favorite coffee mug sat tucked in the corner, along with a few CDs, a dog-eared paperback he’d loaned you weeks ago. Each item seemed to carry its own little echo of the time he’d spent with you.

After a few seconds, Joel placed the lid back on the box, sliding it away from him with a muted thud. He kept his expression steady, but his jaw was set, and his eyes remained fixed on the counter.

“When did she give it to you?” he asked, his voice strained but steady.

“A few moments ago,” Tommy said with a shrug, holding back a smirk as he noticed the tightness in Joel’s expression. “Saw her walking back from Dunn’s house, actually.”

Joel let out a dry, sardonic laugh, a smile twisted in disbelief. "Right. Of course."

"Actually," Tommy said, savoring another spoonful of ice cream, "he walked her to the door, all sweet-like. Gave her the whole mushy goodnight routine—kiss, movie shit." His gaze stayed fixed on the bowl, though Joel could see the glint of mischief there, Tommy barely holding back a grin.

Joel’s fingers drummed on the counter, his gaze hardening. “Good for her,” he muttered.

Tommy didn’t look up, just continued with his ice cream, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Sure she looked that way to me.”

“Like I care,” Joel muttered, his gaze fixed hard on the box beside him, fingers curling against the edge as if steadying himself. “I can bet everything I’ve got she doesn’t even like him that much. That guy isn’t worth it, and she knows it.” 

Tommy’s mouth quirked with amusement as he leaned back against the counter.

“Too bad that’s not up to you,” he said, casually pushing Joel’s buttons, almost like he enjoyed watching his brother’s patience fray. “She looked happy. And for what it’s worth, in her own words, she does like him.” 

Joel’s frown deepened, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Tommy, as if by sheer force he could undo his brother’s last statement. “Wait—you asked her? Tommy, you better not be going around—” 

“Relax,” Tommy cut in, hands raised in mock surrender, though there was still a hint of smugness in his expression. “We just had a small conversation, okay? Didn’t even mention you.” 

Joel let out a sharp, bitter laugh, though his face betrayed a flicker of something raw. His fingers tapped the box, restless and resentful, as if it were the box’s fault for bringing up everything he didn’t want to admit. Then, his voice low and clipped, he gestured to the countertop. “Clean this up when you’re done,” he said, his tone rough. “And don’t piss me off.” 

Without another word, Joel turned on his heel and headed for the stairs, each step heavy and quick, like he couldn’t get away fast enough. The tension in his back, the way his shoulders held too much weight, said enough. Who did Tommy think he was, coming in here with all that, telling him things he didn’t need to hear? He didn’t care about any of it. As far as he was concerned, you could date Travis, marry him if that’s what you wanted. None of it mattered to him. 

But as he climbed the stairs two at a time, his mind raced against his will. You’d been clear, hadn’t you? You didn’t want him in your life. No friendship, no connection, nothing. The words echoed, hollow and yet heavy. And as he reached the top of the stairs, he wondered how many more nights he’d have to wrestle with that idea, struggling to wrap his head around a life where you were nothing more than a memory he had to stop revisiting.

The sooner he accepted it, the easier it would be to see you with Travis, to manage the surge of irritation at the thought of his hands on you, to ignore the image of his arm slung casually around your shoulders. If he could accept it—if he did accept it—it would get easier, right? At least that’s what he told himself. He didn’t care. Obviously, he didn’t care.

He didn’t care that you’d decided to shut him out. Didn’t care that you were so resolute about it, that you barely seemed to miss him. He certainly didn’t care that he’d rearranged his mornings and evenings so he wouldn’t have to see you by accident. It wasn’t as if he still glanced at your door every time he came home, half-hoping he’d see you there, offering a smile and some easy excuse to stay. No, he wasn’t dwelling on how long it had been since he’d heard your voice or felt the comfortable warmth of your hand against his. Nearly a month now. And he was perfectly fine with it, honestly. It didn’t bother him one bit.

So fine, in fact, that he ended things with Sienna over dinner without a moment’s hesitation. Her face had gone blank with surprise, but he’d brushed it off, even throwing in some lie about being “too busy” to make it work, anything to avoid her prying questions. She’d looked at him, confused but oddly resigned, as if she’d sensed his mind had been elsewhere for a while. He didn't care, he was fine with it.

But later that night,Travis Dunn had brought you to your door—walked you up, murmured something as he leaned close, maybe kissed you goodnight. Joel didn’t know the details, but the image of it burned into his mind anyway. He sat in his room alone, a bitter laugh escaping his throat, mocking himself for how easily he’d let the thought take root. You, wrapped up with Dunn. Pf.

In the darkness of his bedroom, Joel sat on the edge of his bed, looking at the empty space beside him, the silence amplifying every unspoken word, every unfulfilled touch. He was fine with it. Of course he was. He repeated it in his mind, willing himself to believe it, even as a hollow ache throbbed in his chest.

And as if the universe were doubling down on the irony, that night he dreamed of you.

-

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @cosmic006533-blog @doblasftcisco @maiyart @concrete-jungleeee @playboygirlsnextdoor00 @maryfanson @rosebuds-and-moonlight @the-universe-is-complicated @formulafun @chewie-bars @glizzymcguirex @pedroswife69 @ivoryandflame @dixonswingz @sarahhxx03 @mellymbee @dailyobsession @msmorningstaarr @mystickittytaco @xxreginaxx @marellabyr @spacegirl-3 @alrihhty @heheheilovepedro @svrgs-blog @94namkooksworld @puddles221b @cowboymcflurry @medusaandposeidonshead @stylesispunk @sweatpeakarolinaa @puddles221b @deansimpalagirl @jasminedragoon @lover-of-books-and-tea @whimsiwitchy @cuteanimalmama @theherothesavior @ivoryandflame @auteurdelabre

[sheepispink]

Love grows (Where My Rosemary Goes) ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི COD MASTERLIST Part of the Sweet As Sugar Series

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི simon riley x (afab) baker! reader (final chapter)

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Another date is planned however is promplty ruined, leaving the both of you trying to do your best in the situation. Thankfully, Simon's a sweetheart, and you love him too much to let him go for a second.

a/n: this is the final chapter guys, im so upset that it's ending but thats why this chapter is extra long lol. also yes the title is based on that song, it actually inspired a large majority of this fic WC: 7.4K

cw: period comfort

PREV

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Simon was confident— really confident. After the initial embarrassment of suddenly kissing you, it came with a wave of pride for flustering you so much. He had so many doubts when he first realised he actually wanted to pursue you— unsure if you’d even consider him an option, given his stark silence around most. Of course, there was the matter of his work too, and everything else that came with being a man like him. Sure, he was a little—a lot— messed up in the head, but he knew to himself he’d never hurt you; that’s the one thing he could trust.

There was no need to take you out on an abundance of dates when being with you like this was satisfying enough, however, he really did want to spoil you at least a little. An expensive restaurant or maybe he could even take you down to London for a weekend; the ideas have been spilling into his head every night just as you’ve been telling him about all the fun activities you want to try with him. But he’s still not able to get a suitable amount of time off, so a night out will have to do.

He had considered booking out a really fancy venue, but you seemed like you’d get shy if you were thrown on the spot into that, so he thought what better than in the comfort of your own town? Maybe he could even bake something for you— not that he was half as good of a cook as you were, but damn, it’s the thought that counts, right? His mind has been occupied trying to think of the perfect idea for his last few days of training. In fact it was so much so that Price stared at him in confusion when he let out a curse from walking straight into a door. He was still annoyed about that, but he was more concerned about how he’d ask you. What if he was jumping the gun, and you wanted to take things really slow? Though.. He did kiss you straight up and you certainly didn't complain about that.

So eventually you had received the text, telling you to meet him next Friday for dinner at a restaurant near your bakery. It wasn't too fancy, but he knew they served some damn good food, and he was willing to buy you the entire menu if you so wished. Of course, you were over the moon about it, spending the majority of that evening looking for the perfect outfit before settling on something a little formal yet casual all the same. You bought a brand-new pair of shoes to complete it, and now you try the outfit on literally any chance you get just to make sure it’s perfect.

——

“Hi Simon.” You’re practically grinning from ear to ear, and it’s not even Wednesday yet, only Saturday; not to mention how your voice is practically brimming with excitement. He steps forward, noticing how your hands are planted on the counter like you’re impatiently waiting for him to come even closer. 

“Someone’s excited.” He hums and, before he can even order, you have the paper bag filled with his usual placed upon the counter along with a freshly brewed black coffee. 

“Can you blame me? The whole week I haven't seen you.”

Simon loves the little frown on your lips when you say that, especially because you haven't failed to drop subtle hints every time you text him about wanting him to stop by. Life’s been particularly hectic the past two weeks, but you’ve been so understanding about all of it; at least you’ll be very happy on Friday with what he has planned. 

“I know, ‘m sorry about that.” He takes the coffee cup gratefully, quickly sliding his payment in the tip jar before you can swat his hand away like you always try to do. “I’ll call you tonight, okay?” Content, you nod along, joyful for a sliver of his time even when you know he’s working hard for something that’s being planned soon. You know he can't tell you much, so you appreciate any sliver of information he grants, but you’d rather take his time than answers.

——

The door jingles faintly as another customer enters; it’s midday on Wednesday, and you’ve been baking all day whilst your family runs the shop. Simon’s finally got a lunch break that he can actually sit down for, and so he makes his best decision which is to facetime you. As always, the pair of you talk about whatever, and you do your best to smile wide, fingers sticky as you knead your knuckles into the great pound of bread dough.

Although, Simon’s been growing a little concerned, repetitively watching your brows furrow when you think he’s not really looking at you, or trailing off into silence when you run out of things to say. “Hey, love.” You hum in return, shaping the dough into smaller bun sizes, movements a little more sluggish than per usual. “Are you okay?” Immediately, your eyes snap up and stare forward at him, almost like you’re frozen, before nodding your head quickly and returning to the dough again.

 “Yeah.. yeah, I'm fine. Why?”

If he had doubts before, he was positive now as you falter, eyes drooping a little more. “You're exhausted. What time did you go to bed last night?” There it is, his lieutenant tone coming out and making you frown at him as he uses it against you. 

“Only ten thirty.. That’s not even that late.” You groan, moving the phone to face the ceiling so he stops scrutinising your eye bags.

“And what time did you get up, huh?”

“Seven thirty! It wasn't even that early.” You’re right though, and he can't even be mad. That’s around nine hours of sleep, which is plenty for your age and what you need. So why do you look like you’re about to topple over and use that bread as a pillow?

“You’re not lying, are you?”

“Hey— I am not!”

He sighs, knowing he’ll likely not get much farther like this, especially if it really wasn't your fault. It’s only Wednesday, but still, he really doesn't want you to be ill for Friday. “Make sure you look after yourself okay? Sleep earlier if you have to.”

And then he’s gone, probably rushed away from his already short lunch break. You sigh quietly, upset he’s gone but also feeling like you somehow annoyed him. Guilty, you shove your earphones in, an uneasy feeling settling in your gut.

——————-

It’s Friday evening when he drives by, stopping outside the bakery. The lights are off, signalling you’re probably upstairs finishing up. He sends a quick text over, letting you know he’s arrived whilst he leans against the passenger door. A bouquet of flowers is held behind his back, similar to the ones on your prized mug— he just hopes he really has the right ones, and you're not actually allergic to them or something. Then you arrive in your pretty outfit, his eyes raking over your form as you smile at him, lips glossy. As you walk down the steps, he can't help but notice how tired you look despite the attempt to use makeup to cover it up; there’s no way he is just going to let that slide. “Hey, hey wait.. You do not look good at all.” He frowns at you, taking one of your smaller hands in his and pulling you forward as he looks over you. 

“I don't look good?” You freeze, staring at him like he just insulted your entire existence, which he may as well have if you heard that correctly. The sound of your voice sounding so hurt is enough for him to realise his minor mistake, chuckling softly as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Not..what I meant, sweetheart. You look absolutely stunnin’ but… also exhausted, are you sure you’re up for this?”

You blink at him, as if not believing his words in the slightest. “I told you the other day I was fine—can we just go?” The words tumble out, and you noticeably wince at your own impatient tone— you did not mean to say it like that.

  For a second you pause, eyes glancing everywhere as you try to save it, but he just nods his head, pulling the bottom of his mask down again and placing the bouquet in your hands. “Alright, alrigh’. And these are for you, pretty girl.”

——

Despite his reaction, the ride is silent apart from the soft sound of your favourite music playing, though it only serves to make you feel all the more guilty. The restaurant isn't too far away, only a half an hour drive, but it feels like forever especially with how quiet the two of you currently are right now. Annoyingly enough, there’s absolutely no parking nearby, making him mutter a curse beneath his breath before doing a U-turn and parking two streets down. “Sorry, love. Gonna have to walk it.” He looks a little disappointed as he gets out of the car with you following behind before he can open the door for you—that’d make you feel even more guilty. Your small purse is clutched in your hand as you shake your head, trying your best to make up for your behaviour. “T-that's fine, really. I can walk.”

The streets aren't quiet today, a couple of teenagers laughing loudly and a few retail workers finishing their shifts, packing to go home. It’s only seven, but you have no doubt that it’ll only grow louder as more people celebrate the arrival of the weekend. It’s going fine now—at least you think it is. Simon’s talking with his voice low, something about a shop he saw when driving through the other day. Ever since he had fixed up your entire bakery, he’s been oddly intrigued by every deal he sees, tempted to keep himself busy and with the best tools too of course. In your head, it’s his own strange way of spoiling himself. 

You’re really trying to pay attention as he tells you the homeware store nearby is shutting down— you’re hanging onto every word, you swear— but every time another shot of pain riles up your abdomen your breath hitches.  After the first time it happened, he had turned to you in concern, and you pretended to cough, saying you needed to clear your throat. Contemplative, he eventually insisted that you drink some water before he began speaking again, hand gently holding yours as he looked at the restaurants you pass. 

“Hm.. Pottery painting? Didn’t you want to try that out? Maybe you should come here next time.”

“Oh yeah.. I- I should. Hey what about that store across the street? Do you think they got any good antiques to decorate the shop?” Okay, you may have baited him to look away whilst you’re half-keeled over from another stomach cramp–your hand fighting its hardest not to squeeze his one. “Maybe I can have a look later.” He hums in response, turning his head just a second after you stand back upright and smile at him like nothing happened.

Though, you would be incredibly stupid to think you could fool an SAS operator of all people, let alone one that loves you.

His steps have frozen to a stop, the Lieutenant in him coming to show why he has that title when he eyes you down suspiciously, watching every twitch in your demeanour when you look at him, swallowing sharply. “You’re not okay, are you?”

 “What? I’m fine. What kind of restaurant are we going to? I’m already getting hungry just thinking—” You cut yourself off when you notice how his eyebrow is very clearly raised beneath the mask, silently questioning you. He’s not actually mad.. You hope, though you don't get a second longer to consider it before another sharp pain stings your abdomen, making your hand clench your hip. You know that was his last straw when he grunts, Adam's apple bobbing as he watches your features form a grimace, clearly in pain. 

“You’re going home.” He states simply, squeezing your palm in his before pulling you back in the direction you came from. 

“Wait, but it’s not that bad, it’s only a little..” He shakes his head when you grasp his arm, trying to plead with him, but he only picks up the pace instead.

Soon enough, you’re back down the second street, his hand now resting on your lower back as he walks with purpose. His eyes are set forward as he scans the road ahead, narrowed as if he’d kill anything that’d come before the two of you.

“Simon.. Are you mad at me?” 

You look nervous to even ask, a hitch in your breath at each of his sharp and sudden movements and the worst is when you discard his nickname like that. He looks at you, the way you stare at him like you’re going to snap in two if he says anything wrong. Don't you see how much you worry him?

“No.. No, I'm not. Just get into the car, okay? We don't need some fancy dinner when you’re not feelin’ right.”

——

The car is cold, just like this night is, even if it’s been plenty sunny all week. It’s seven thirty now, stopped outside a small Tesco express whilst you wait for Simon to finish up inside. For once, you’re terribly regretting all of this. You’ve never been in a relationship, hell you don't even know what you’re supposed to do in one let alone all of this. If you hadn't messed up the day you avoided him and made him give you reassurance, you’ve definitely done it now. He’s never usually this quiet, and there’s no other explanation than him growing fed up with your antics. After all, who the hell agrees to go out to dinner just to not be able to because of some stupid, stupid cramps?

This was all too much but damnit you were too far away from home now to just run and hide like you always did— like a damn coward does. With thoughts growing more and more self-deprecating, your eyes become wetter by the second until you hear the click of the car door, and you almost immediately sit up straight, sniffling down any prior feelings. Simon opens the driver door, sitting inside before he wordlessly drapes his jacket over you and passes you one of those instant hot chocolates from the machines. He has a little plastic bag with him, one that he doesn't show you the contents of and only places in the backseat. “You were shiverin’.” He shrugs, looking at your confused face before starting up the car again and reversing out of the car park, back towards your home again.

——

“I’ll be back.”

He left you in your apartment whilst he went back to the car, leaving you anxious as you slowly made your way into your bedroom. This place was a mess, and if he was going to spend the evening here—if he even wanted to— this was not going to happen in the slightest. So, even whilst your eyes brim with tears and your lip wobbles, you place away the clothes left out when you were getting ready earlier, along with the random accessories strewn around. As you put away each item, your sniffles only grow even more, almost convinced Simon thinks of you as some weak naive girl; at this point, you were stupid to think you could make this work.

“What are you doing?” He stands in the doorway, blinking as you make your bed, pulling the duvet to each corner and straightening out the creases. “My apartment is messy..” You mumble out, but he only shakes his head again. “No.. No, stop. You’re not well, just… change into your pajamas or something comfy.” Then he’s gone, into the living room to deal with the rustle of something. Meanwhile, you try your best to not sob whilst you put on your warmest jumper and comfiest pajama bottoms, terrified of the ending of this. 

———

Swallowing sharply, you walk towards the couch, noticing him hunched over his phone, looking intently through the UberEats app. He’s done practically everything for you: from driving you back and forth, treating you to a meal and now even buying you something else you can eat just because you're an idiot who can't just push through something as stupid as cramps. Never has he made you lift a finger when he’s perfectly able to do something for you. What do you even do? You make lunch for him every so often, yeah, you had given him some things to help deal with his insomnia that one time, and you always give him something good to eat when he comes down. But is that all? Compared to the things he’s done for you, even when he waves it off as nothing, was far more strenuous than the stupid chicken buns you perfected just for his sake.

Did you even really deserve him? 

The thoughts choke your throat up, making you hesitate right outside your bedroom door. Should you beg for his forgiveness, for being such a bad girlfriend to him? That’d just pressure him to say it’s alright, give you sweet reassurance again— guilt-tripping him. What if this was all a big guilt trip? You had proven you were nothing compared to him, and so he felt forced to comply and help you. That only makes your breaths grow uneven, the seed of doubt growing in your mind as you sniffle to stop your nose from running. 

Stop seeking attention.

Trying to swallow down the guilt that clogs your oesophagus is near impossible, and you’re not even sure if you can face him knowing the person you actually are. So, your hand settles on the handle of your bedroom door, hurriedly deciding on hiding away before you cause him anymore trouble. 

“Cute pajamas.” There’s a smirk on his lips as he walks up behind you and looks at the little bunnies embroidered onto your t-shirt and trousers; he’s feeling a lot more relaxed knowing you’re safe at home now. “C’mon, sit on the couch. I was thinking we could order chinese, been a minute since I’ve had that.” He mutters, gently taking your arm in his hand and leading you over to the couch. You follow, teeth clenched together like you’re frozen in place, whilst he nudges you to take a seat. Though you don't ever reply, making him turn away from the snacks he’s set up on the coffee table, looking back at you properly.

“Hey—hey, what’s wrong?”

Hot tears spill down your cheeks, staining your skin as you meet his worried gaze, only feeling all the worse each second he looks your way. “Si- I— I’m sorry!” You blurt out, unable to get anything else out as you begin to messily sob into your hands, leaving a salty taste on your tongue similar to the pit of guilt swirling in your stomach.  He stands there dumbfounded, unsure how to react, since he’s never had to deal with someone seeking comfort from him before. Sure, he’s given you reassurance, but this was different— you wanted him to make you okay again, or at the very least calm you down.

“What is there to be sorry for?” He blurts out, standing awkwardly before you with his hands hanging useless at his sides. Should he reach out? He wants to, but he’s not sure if that’s the right move. Simon always thought he was confident in what he knew, and he always has been with each cock of his gun and swing of his knives. Of course, he knew a relationship was new territory, but he hadn't thought it’d move this fast.

“I ruined the whole evening! You always do everything for me and all I do is give you some stupid tea at the end of the day. An-and you introduced me to all your friends and I can't even show you off to mine because I barely have any that aren't just my parents' friends.” You cry out, rambling so fast your lungs can barely keep up, forcing you to take in long breaths to compensate for it. 

“I’ve done nothing for you! And I can't even walk down two roads to go to dinner with you, which is something you actually want for once because of my stupid period!”  He watches, silent, as you choke on your last words, sobbing again into your hands and very clearly overwhelmed. 

Though, that just explains absolutely everything to him. He had a small inkling, but he didn’t want to be that guy who only assumed because you were a little more ticked off than usual. The couch sinks beside you as he sits down, making you look up at him with teary eyes. “I could argue every single one of those points wrong, but I don't see the need to” He states simply, making you look up at him with teary eyes, curling a protective arm around you and pushing your head to lean against his side. 

The hand around your shoulder reaches up to dry the tears spilling down your cheeks. “No offense, but you’re gonna have to come up with a better argument than that for me to leave you, sweetheart.” 

 “And.. you warned me two weeks ago to not believe anything you say if you start bawling whilst on your period.” Now that elicits the smallest huff of laughter through your tears, instantly remembering that yes, you did in fact say that.

It had been late, and you were messing around with him, but he could tell you were slightly serious when you texted him that evening. You had warned him that you tended to get a little over your own head sometimes, and he told you the same—take his messages past one am with a pinch of salt. After all, it’s been more than once that he’s hurriedly woken up Soap for an emergency that had sprouted from his darkest dreams, and the Scot had to sit down with him and explain nothing was happening at all.  So, he definitely understood that the brain was a strange thing, one that did things you didn't always mean. Though, if you hadn't warned him he’d most definitely spend tonight and the next month reminding you everyday that you do so much for him. For now though, his concern was making you feel okay again, and if you still felt those doubts in the next few days when you were feeling better, he’d be happy to debate how you’ve been nothing but perfect for him.

Although, even after all of that you still look hesitant, like something is seriously lingering in your head. “Tell me what’s wrong–I’m here to listen.” It’s true, he promised you he would, and he was here right now, patiently waiting.

“W-why did you suddenly send me back to the car? And you just– you barely let me get a word in–” That’s what had spiralled the self-depreciation out of control, that and overthinking that is. Though, it is pretty hard to think straight when your stomach feels all queasy and sharp pains keep attacking your abdomen. He realises now the mistake he had made, his breath stuck in his throat as he listens to your words. “I thought you were angry with me..” You eventually mumble out, still sniffling whilst the tears escape your eyes.

 How stupid had he been? 

“I..I’m sorry, love.” His hand tightens around your back, fingers gently pressing into your skin. Of course, you had over thought it, probably analysed each of his little actions too. He had been the one to encourage you to communicate with him, and he didn’t even take his own damn advice. “I’m a bloody idiot.”  Guilty, he lets out a long sigh, his hand retracting from behind you. Now it just gently rests on your hand, almost as if asking for permission again.

You watch as he rests his head in his hands for a moment, rubbing at the bridge of his nose before he turns his head to look at you, your watery eyes and tearful expression. It breaks him all over again. “Honestly.. All I was worried about was getting you home so you could be comfortable again. I rarely communicate on the field regarding the reasons for my actions– I just expect them to follow.” It was true, he had mindlessly assumed you’d just understand and follow, like one of his damn soldiers. You weren’t one of them, and you should never be demanded to just ‘understand’ with such poor explanation on his part. 

“That wasn't right of me to expect that of you. It was never my intention to scare you like that, love. I’m sorry.”

His words are slow, and they don't blame you in the slightest which feels like a massive step away from how everyone has usually treated you. In fact, the apology is so raw, his hand still tentatively resting on yours as he looks so distraught at the realisation. After a second or two, the weight beneath your eyes finally rests, sinking as you droop your head. “I.. Thank you. I just– I knew I was getting over myself but I didn't know what to think of your actions. That.. makes a lot of sense, and I don't blame you– I was just worried I guess...”

Even though you’ve accepted his apology, you still look pretty pent-up, fingers slowly rubbing the hem of your shirt. “C’mere, love. Just ‘cause I explained, it doesn't take the hurt away. You have the right to feel upset.” He watches your hand grasp his, locking your fingers together as your thumb quietly traces the cracks in his skin and the folds in his joints.

“Listen to your body, not me.”

So you do, you sniffle again until you’re silently sobbing into the shirt your hands are tightly grasping the back of. When he follows your lead, tucking you close to him again, you bring your knees up onto the couch to shelter yourself beneath his bicep, warmth radiating off of him. You only begin settling down to sniffles once the pit in your gut fades, and you’re beginning to feel lighter. His hand rubs your back slowly, in comforting circles, whilst he whispers soft words in his ears. He’s no pro, but he does know that you deserve all of this and more. 

You're quiet now apart from the occasional inhale from your snotty nose and coughs to clear your choked throat.  “Feeling better?” Silently, you press your knees to your chest as you sit up properly though still staying close to his comfort and security he provides.

 “Yeah, a lot better.” Your voice is all clogged up, a little raspy, but you’re okay and that’s all that matters.

——

The food delivery driver is only a few minutes away now, but you’re feeling icky as it is so you excuse yourself after the long comforting silence to head into the bathroom. There’s tear streaks all down your face, cheeks puffy and eyelashes damp, yet there’s no weight on your chest, and you no longer feel the burden of guilt swarming you. 

After splashing your face with cold water, you already look a little more put together, but no less pitiful. Though..it’s not like he’ll care anyway, it’s Simon— he proves your anxieties wrong practically every day. Your lips pull up into a small smile, looking back at yourself in the mirror before you turn, opening the door to return to your man.

“Si?” You look around just to hear him hum. “Right here, love.”

He peeks round the wall of the kitchen, gesturing you to come over to where he’s taking out all the boxes. “Woah— how much did you buy?” He doesn't seem as fazed as you are, glancing down at the four containers of each different dish he bought. “Hm? This is a normal amount.” 

Normal?? You were only two people, and he had bought enough to feed your whole family and the stray foxes that lingered around. 

“Here, you can eat these two.” Your jaw drops the moment he slides two, massive, containers before you. “What?!”

———-

You’re still giggling like an idiot when you sit down on the couch again, your plate piping hot and his container steaming. “Alrigh’ stop laughing at me.” He tries his best to be stern, but he can't help it when your eyes are all lit up like that, repetitively fanning yourself with your hand because you’ve laughed so much your cheeks are burning. 

“I can't— it’s just so silly–”

He places the container onto his lap so he can reach over to squash your cheeks inwards to shut you up at long last. “Yeah yeah, I know I'm an idiot. I’m just used to having Soap and Gaz who stuff down two containers each and then a third between them.” He huffs out, slightly embarrassed that he had forgotten you physically couldn't eat that much if you even tried. 

You’ve stopped giggling enough to take a bite of your food when he replaces the fork in your hand with the packet of ibuprofen, making you look at him in confusion. “What?”

“Take them, you’re obviously in pain.”

That makes you raise a brow at him, then down at the tablets and then back over at him again. “Do you think I can't handle it? I’ve had periods for like years, Si— I can handle any of this.” You huff confidently, crossing your arms over your chest as he gives you an just as hardened stare. “I never said you couldn't handle the pain, it’s called making it easier for yourself—“

“Yeah but I wanna see how long I can last without it.”

“You what?” This time he does actually look at you like you’re crazy. But then again, you are right, your body not his. “Just.. just eat the food please.”

———

It’s safe to say that he made sure you took the painkillers the second he saw you clutch the pillow beside you again, doing his best to not roll his eyes when you were still adamant on not taking it. You end up feeling a lot better when it finally kicks in, just leaving you content with your head resting on his broad shoulder. 

He leaves to pack the food away before returning with one of your plushies, more specifically the giant penguin that he had won for you. How could you ever forget that day? “Smells like you.” He chuckles, burying his face into the fur before laying it down beside you who instantly clutches it tight. “I’ve slept with Pingu every day.” You hum, resting your chin above its head and loving how perfectly it fits in your arms. It truly is your favourite thing in the world– apart from Simon that is.

“Only you would name it after that crappy cartoon.” Your jaw drops, offended as he plops himself down on the couch beside you, stretching his legs out as he turns the tv on. “Pingu was legendary, thank you.”

“Uh huh, the penguin who’d make a snoot snoot noise at anything and was as stubborn as you when I denied a pastry.”

“I’m not stubborn– it’s called caring for you.” 

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” 

—-------------------------

One of those crappy game shows are on again, they’re ones you’d usually switch off, but Simon always gets way too invested in them.  “That was definitely the wrong answer” He scowls at the contestant, before switching to a grin when his own guess was right. 

Every time he picks correctly, you get a firm rub up and down your side, and when he gets proven wrong.. you get a squeeze that makes you squeal. His eyes never leave your form when you join in too, chiming in now and then with your prediction, and he kisses your head when you get it right. Though he doesn't fail to notice how you squirm occasionally, shifting uncomfortably to find the right position and failing.

The show has ended and so, his focus has snapped back to you all over again. Out of nowhere he stands, heading into the kitchen and rummaging through the bags he must’ve brought inside when he went back to the car. Then he disappears into your bedroom, before returning to grab your plate and walking back over to place it in the dishwasher. 

“Hm?” You perk up, peeking over the armrest as he continues to move around the room before stopping infront of you. 

“C’mon.” Before you can question what he’s doing, one arm is tucked beneath your legs and the other behind your back, holding you upright. “Woah—hey!” He takes the moment to press a kiss to your lips, making you momentarily stop squirming before he carries you into your bedroom and places you beneath the covers with ease. On the bedside table there’s a steaming cup of tea, some menstrual products and your water bottle filled up to the top beside his own, perfect for when you get thirsty at night. Oh, and obviously some more snacks and the chocolates you were munching seconds ago.

You blink in surprise whilst he tucks a hot water bottle beside you, along with Pingu,  before pulling the covers up to your neck. He grabs the remote, turning on the tv, but this time moves to Netflix, flicking through the series till he settles on the one you’ve been talking about with him. “You call me if you need anything, yeah?”  He teases, fluffing the pillows behind your head. 

“What? Where are you going?”

“Clean up a little, get my bed situated on the couch. I’ll come say goodnight.”

“You—what? No way.” You grab his hand and pull him towards the bed, putting so much force only for him to barely move an inch. Huffing in exasperation, you grab his other hand and tug him. “No way I’ll sleep alone when you’re right here.”

You wanted him here? With you? When you’re like this? Sure, you’re dating and all, but he didn't expect you to want him to stay. He had accidentally made you cry multiple times today and probably pushed your stress levels to the max by simply not explaining something like an idiot. Plus, he always likes to be left alone when he is feeling particularly vulnerable— was this not the same?

“Please?” You plead, and he immediately relents, slowly nodding before gently manoeuvring you to lean back properly.

“Fine, fine, only if you finish your tea. I don't want to hear of a sore throat tomorrow.”

———

It’s late, and you’ve finished your tea now, getting ready for bed. He stands in the bathroom, like he had on your first date, staring into the mirror. If he slept beside you, he could keep the mask on, just half hitched up his face. If he really wanted to, that is.

But was it right? He’d be laying right beside you, so close and the most intimate he’s been with anyone for years, only to keep his mask on. It wasn’t insecurity; it never had been, either. But it was all so strange, he didn't know what to do and, to be honest, he was slightly nervous.

“Si? You almost done? I gotta pee..” You mumble from the doorway, the door swinging open as you lean on it, making you stumble forward. Thankfully, you catch yourself, immediately noticing how he stands before the mirror, dressed in the spare clothes you insisted he keep in the closet. But what you’re more focused on is his hand that lingers near his mask, curling up the edges. Though when he hears you he immediately drops it, nodding without even looking back at you.

You step forward, like a mouse with how silent your feet are. “You don't have to if you don't want to. Whatever is more comfortable for you.” You whisper, gently curling your arms around him, with your head thumping gently against his back. It feels nice, hugging him like this— like you’ve wanted to since the day you met him. 

“Thanks for always looking out for me, Simon. Even when I'm a little bit teary and loopy.”

That gets a small huff out of him, but he continues to stare at the mirror, now focusing on your hands that settle on his side before lightly grazing your nails against him. “If you’re attempting to tickle me, it’s not working.”

“I was not—Okay, I was. How are you not ticklish at all?!” You huff, and he turns around, pinching your cheeks before shaking his head at you. “Go on, do your business. I’ll go make sure the bed’s warm for you.”

———————

Clicking the bathroom door shut, you walk back over to your bedroom, eyes all drowsy. It’s almost ten now, and even if that’s not your usual bedtime, you’re about to make it from how shattered your brain is. You were a tiny bit embarrassed, to say the least. After all, you had burst into tears because he simply did the right thing—to take you home. But then again, it’s Simon and, even if you actually got angry at him for cancelling the plans, he’d have let you punch his chest until you’re satisfied. On the comfort of your couch of course, not outside where the cold would get to you.

Your slippers patter quietly as you walk inside, noticing the main light has been turned off. That’s perfect because your eyes are straining with every second you’re still awake. A yawn threatens to come forward, but you immediately brush it off when you see him. He’s sitting on one side of the bed, wearing only a black t-shirt and sweatpants, on his phone that he usually never touches except for emergencies, of course.

A smile immediately breaks out on your face, failing to be contained as you just stare for a moment, stepping forward until he glances up at you properly, a hint of hesitance in his eyes. “Ready to sleep?” He tries his best to stay as casual as before, you can tell that, but you’ve lost all sense of words so you just quickly nod along, still locked onto him like he’s a painting anyone with a sane mind would fawn over.

“I love you.” You blurt out, crawling atop the bed and making his head turn back to you, surprise written over it. It makes you want to giggle, so very hard, knowing you can now see every little etch that formed his face, the curves, the sharp edges, even properly see his brows now. You love even more that you can make his face change, surprise him, excite him, make him smile. 

“What’s all this about?” Of course, he ignores the obvious, suddenly looking downwards as he opens the covers up and drapes them over you. He still sits atop, almost hesitant to get under before you catch his hand. “Nothin’, just admiring.” You hum, intertwining your hands with his that he rarely leaves bare, apart from the softer moments like these. They’re calloused, and strong, yet so, so, soft whenever they come to handle you. 

After a bit of nudging, he finally gets under the covers, making you sigh with content as you shuffle your way over to him. “You don't mind if I cuddle you, right?” The excitement is written all over your face, clearly wanting to try this with someone for years now, and who would he be to deny? “Jus’ tell me what you want me to do.”

He was expecting you to want him to hug you from behind, or maybe you’d sleep across his chest, but you’re both facing each other in your little bed, and you’ve got your arms tight around his torso and your nose pushed into his neck. He feels your gentle pecks against the scar too close to his throat, down to his collar where many knives have grazed and even on the curve of his shoulder where a bullet had once been lodged. You squeeze him tighter with each one, his own hands tightening on your back.  “Thought I fed you enough—with all of that food.” He  grunts, quieter than usual and you didn't miss his breath hitching when you kissed him again, your nose rubbing against him.

“I’m always hungry.” You hum, grinning, before you pull your head back, staring at him head on. You’ve always loved his eyes, probably because it’s the only thing he would allow you, but this is more than that, looking at him like this. Brown, rich, and full of secrets, enough to make you smile all silly again. You lean forward, kissing his nose full force like he always does to catch you off guard. It cracks a smile on his lips, and he has to avert his gaze for a moment before he turns into some lovesick fool. 

“I think you’re supposed to be sleeping, miss—”

Before he can finish, you’ve caught him in a kiss, your hands curving up his jaw and thumbs cold against his face. It’s a sensation he hasn’t felt in years, skin against skin, and it feels exhilarating. When you break for some much-needed air, you push your palms into his cheeks, squashing his face before giggling at how his lips have been forcefully pursed. 

Rolling his eyes, he scoops you up effortlessly and pushes you back against the mattress, pinning your hands against the pillows. “You are so–”  He huffs, but it breaks once he sees your wide-eyed expression, and he has to drop his head to contain himself, his body wracking with each shake of laughter. You’re soon flattened by his heavy build, squirming beneath him until he relents and rolls onto his back to let you settle properly. Though, he does grab your hands, restraining them for a moment longer. 

“You gonna behave and sleep now?” He raises a brow at you, his face full of so much emotion that it momentarily stuns you. 

“..Only if you sleep over tomorrow as well.”

“If I get you a pretty ring, we can do that every day.” Finally, he sets your hands free, letting you settle them over his body properly before you yawn drowsily. 

“Don’t need a ring to convince me.” Your face is squished comfortably against his heart, which may as well have legal rights to you at this point. His eyes soften as he watches your eyes droop, his hand sinking beneath your shirt to rub at your lower back, knowing you’re likely still all achy. 

“I love you too.” He returns the sentiment, one hand placed atop your head like it wasn’t a phrase but a vow– a promise. Never in his life did he think he’d ever be in the place he is in right now, and despite Soap’s constant words of wisdom that life is full of surprises, this was one of the things he deemed impossible. Yet here you were, the only person who could make him smile like his heart was light again, and the only one who he’d go to the end of the earth and back for. You’re here, the prettiest girl in the damn world, and you’re next to him. 

Though, he’s even more grateful for who you make him as a person. Just today, you’ve changed him for the better, and since you’ve met him he’s learnt so much in the little things that he probably couldn't even count them on one hand. You didn't fix him, no, you healed him, bettered him as a person until he was here, feeling worthy of someone’s love. He’d never be perfect, nowhere close but he’d sure as hell get close with you around.

“I love you.” An whispered oath, and he kisses your head as the day finally catches up to you.

You’re the only one who could ever make him say those three words because—even if the nightmares ate at his mind, the battlefield consumed his limbs or fate took its revenge on him— he loved you and that’s enough to leave him with peace for the rest of his life.

--------------------

buy me a coffee!

bonus drabble

a/n: i cant believe one small drabble turned into this and after five months, we finally finished it!!!! this is the first cod series i've made and i've loved every single chapter I've put out. It makes me so upset to see it go, if im being honest, but i know it's for the best. If anyone does have any ideas for reader and Simon please leave them in my askbox! I will do my best to at least try to write it up as a bonus chapter but for now, this is officially the end. Thank you for all of your support on this series, you have all been so so sweet and i hope you all experience a love as sugary as this one <3

taglist:

@hidden-treasures21 @bieberismysoulmate @gallantys @tessakate @galactict3a @krispymagazinepizza-blog @silas-aeiou @kupids-arrow @enfppuff @oydan @keytofu @vogueprincess @roastyyytoastyyy @pythonmoth

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 5

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy, seizures, memory loss, hospitals and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Lando woke up feeling like absolute shit.

His head was pounding, his mouth was drier than the desert, and judging by the fact that he’s still half-dressed and tangled in a celebratory McLaren flag, last night must have been good.

He groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. He remembered fragments of the night before - flashes of bright lights, loud music, and way too much drinking.

He had won.

Lando Norris was a Formula 1 Grand Prix Winner.

He had been nearly drowned in champagne by Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

He had won the 2024 Miami Grandprix.

Lando let out a sigh and gingerly pushed himself up into a sitting position, clutching his head as a sharp pain shot through his temples.

He fumbled for his phone, cringing at the notifications that had piled up overnight. Messages from friends, family, and the racing world congratulating him on his victory.

He blinked blearily at his phone.

Too early. Too bright. Too… too.

But there’s one thing he needs to do before he even considers getting up.

He scrolled through his notifications, heart sinking when he still doesn’t see Lizzie’s name.

But there’s nothing.

His fingers fumble as he types out another message.

Lando: Hey, just checking in. Are you okay? You didn’t answer last night. I was a bit… not in the best state, but I was really hoping to hear from you.

Lando: I’m just worried. Is everything alright? I know I was probably being a bit much last night, but you can always just let me know if you need space or whatever. I just want to make sure you’re good.

Nothing.

Lando stared at his phone, the pit in his stomach growing deeper with each passing second. He didn't understand why Lizzie hadn't responded, and the not knowing was driving him crazy.

He groaned, running a hand down his face.

He tried calling. Straight to voicemail.

His stomach twists.

Lando didn't want to jump to conclusions, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Lizzie was usually pretty good about replying to his messages.

He tried texting again.

Lando: Look, I get it if you need time. I don’t want to come off too strong. I just feel like I should've heard from you by now, and I’m starting to panic a bit. Just a quick text would help me breathe for a second, you know?

Lando stared at his phone, watching the time tick by with agonizing slowness. He'd been awake for nearly an hour now, and Lizzie hadn't responded to any of his messages.

He tried calling again, only to be met with the same response - straight to voicemail...again.

And then his phone pinged.

Lizzie: Hi, this is Lizzie’s father. She’s in the hospital. Multiple seizures. She’s woken up a few times, but she’s not very responsive. I don’t know who you are, but judging by the way she’s saved your contact as ‘Lando Not Dying Yet Norris,’ I assume you’re important enough to be told.

Lando blinks. Stares. His hangover vanishes instantly.

She’s at the Royal Sussex Hospital. Thought I’d tell you in case you want to show up to visit her.

Lando feels like all the air has been sucked from the room.

Hospital. Seizures. Not responsive.

He doesn’t even realize he’s shaking until he fumbles trying to type back.

Lando: I—fuck. Is she okay? What happened?

Three little dots appear, then vanish. Then appear again.

Lizzie: She’s stable. But it was bad.

Lando pushes back the covers, already moving, already grabbing for his McLaren hoodie like that will somehow help him fix this.

He needs to be there.

Now.

His hands are unsteady as he opens his flight app. The next available flight back to London is in four hours.

Not soon enough.

Lando: I’m coming back to the UK. I’ll be there as soon as I can.

There’s no reply, but Lando doesn’t care. His heart is hammering, his mind racing, and there’s only one thing he knows for sure—

He has to get to Lizzie.

He…

There was a knock at the door.

Lando jumped, his already frayed nerves on edge. "Who is it?" he called out, his voice cracking slightly.

“It’s Oscar.”

Lando sagged with relief as he recognized the Australian accent drifting through the door. “Come in.”

The door creaked open and Oscar Piastri poked his head into the room. His eyes widened when he saw Lando’s harried expression. “Mate, you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Lando shook his head, feeling the tension in his shoulders tighten even more. "No, not alright. Lizzie’s in the hospital. Multiple seizures."

Oscar’s expression immediately darkened. "What the hell? Multiple seizures? How is she doing now?”

“Not good, apparently. Her dad said she’s stable, but she’s not very responsive. I’m flying back to London to see her.” Lando ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his heart still racing with worry.

“God damn.” Oscar stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him. He studied Lando’s face for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “You’re a mess, mate. Have you eaten anything?”

Lando shook his head, the thought of food making his stomach churn. "No, I haven't even had a chance to think about food. I’m just freaking out, mate. I’ve never seen her have a seizure, let alone multiple seizures…She had one last week before we had dinner, but she seemed fine, just tired… I have no idea how bad it’s going to be. This is...this is so messed up."

Oscar nodded sympathetically, his expression still grave. "Go," he said simply. "I'll make your apologies to Zac and the team."

Lando nodded numbly, already moving to pack a bag. Oscar stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "And mate? Try to keep calm. You won’t do Lizzie any good if you’re a wreck yourself."

Lando huffed out a breath. "I’ll try."

"Can you tell Max..." Lando trailed off. He had no idea what to even…

Oscar's expression softened. “I’ll tell Max. And the others. You just focus on getting to the hospital, alright?”

Lando nods, his throat suddenly feeling thick. "Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Oscar."

[midnighthazee]

Greenridge ABO Series

Series Masterlist Masterlist

Warnings: explicit language, pet names, mentions of your past trauma, mentions of rape, fluff (I think that's it?)

WC: 5209

Chapter 9

(Day 12 with Greenridge)

It had been a week since you finally began to nest. You’ve changed your room around three times since then but you finally have it the way you like… you think…

You were, however, settling in nicely. You’re getting used to being around all the boys and find yourself more comfortable around them. While you haven’t initiated any type of physical contact, you’ve allowed them to be more touchy with you. Sure you still flinch here and there but you’re also instantly melting into their touch. Never mind the fact that now you seem to crave their company. You spend as much time as you can with at least one of them, only alone when sleeping, getting ready for the day, or getting ready for bed.

Jeongin’s rut lasted the whole five days, which was new to him. He thanked everyone for their help, everyone having pitched in at least once to help out. While he did get through it, he believes it lasted the whole five days because his body didn’t get what it was craving - you.

He came back a few days ago, avoiding you at first to freshen up. He had spent the morning with Hyunjin straightening up the rut house. Things were back where they went, dishes returned, fridge restocked, and sheets changed. Jeongin took his time getting dressed, worried how he would react upon seeing you - worried you would go off on him even though Chan said you were ‘surprisingly understanding’.

He definitely didn’t expect you to come knocking on his door and hand him a plate of brownies.

“I made them myself.” you had said, a big smile on your face.

He looked warily at them.

“It’s Felix’s recipe. I didn’t poison them. It’s a peace offering.”

He smiled, taking the plate and eating one (four actually). You giggled as he kept eating them, Hyunjin eventually snatching the plate away. He was happy you were okay with him, although he felt so detached seeing how close you were with everyone else. He had to make up for lost time.

So for the past couple days, if he wasn’t training, he was hanging out with you. You didn’t mind. In fact, you grew quite fond of the little alpha. And in no time, it was like he had been there all along and not isolated away.

No more members of the Nykos had shown up, thankfully. At first Chan didn’t tell you, afraid to upset you and make you worry. But he also didn’t want to keep secrets from you. Truthfully, he didn’t know if he was relieved or more worried without their visits but as far as he knew, they didn’t know you were here. Of course it wouldn’t be surprising if they somehow did. 

Chan thought it best to increase his numbers while he could and had gone to some of the neighboring packs to bring more allies to his side, should a fight ensue. He knew a few packs that hated the Nykos and refused to submit to their rule - going to them first. In no time he gained twenty new men - one of the packs had thirteen members, the other only seven. Today he was going to go to the pack the farthest away. It was going to be a toss up whether they agree to help since they usually stay out of the drama between the younger packs. But with age comes wisdom and strength, and Chan wanted that on his side.

“Minho, do you need anything before we leave? We should only be gone overnight.” Chan asked, flanked by Jisung and Hyunjin.

“I think we’re good. Don’t worry about us. We got this. Go get us more people.” Minho said with a nod.

“Alpha Jaebeom will hopefully agree to help us. He’s an old friend of Alpha Seungcheol, so I’m having him meet us there.” Chan informed.

“Okay. I have Alpha Jungwon’s number if I need to call him.”

“Seungcheol is bringing a couple of his with him too so call Wonwoo if you need the pack.”

“I got it. Now go.” Minho practically pushed him out of the kitchen.

Chan looked over to where you were sitting on the island, your lips turned to a pout and eyes sad.

“Don’t worry, baby.” He said, coming over and kissing you on the forehead. “We will be back as soon as possible. No one is going to get you while I’m away.”

You nod, forcing a smile. He pulled you into a hug.

“That’s my girl. So brave and strong.” Pulling back, his thumb grazed your cheek as he cupped your face.

“Alright. See everyone tomorrow.” Chan waved, kissing Minho goodbye. 

Felix of course ran over to get his goodbye kiss from the three of them, and then they were gone. You hadn’t even properly kissed any of them yet and you wondered who would be the first. 

Suddenly, you knew who. And you didn’t want to wait. Taking off, you swing open the garage door and hurried over to the car, Chan backing out. He gets out of the garage, stopping when he sees you running over. He rolls down the window, worried. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Before you can talk yourself out of it or get nervous, you lean into the window and smash your lips on his. He’s taken back, but soon his lips move with yours. Your whole body feels like it's thrumming with electricity. Butterflies in your stomach and for the first time, you feel… alive. You’ve never felt this good, feeling your bond growing stronger by the second. His hand is resting on your cheek as he deepens the kiss.

Someone clearing their throat brings you both back to reality and you pull away, biting your lip.

“Drive safe.” you say, staring deep into his eyes.

“I will.”

“Where’s my goodbye kiss?” Hyunjin asks, leaning over from the passenger side with a pout.

“Me too.” Jisung rolls down his window, puckering his lips at you.

You blush, hiding your face.

“You better come back home if you want a kiss.” You say, scurrying back inside the house.

Chan had the biggest grin plastered on his face the majority of the drive, high off your initiated affection and feeling closer to you. He also liked that it was just him that you had kissed, however selfish that made him. He couldn’t wait to get back home and do it again.

Minho smirked at you, clearly knowing what just happened, as you walked through the garage door. You avoided his gaze, the others clearly oblivious as they were watching TV in the living room. You went to the barstool and sat next to Minho.

“So if you’re Chan’s right hand man…aren’t you supposed to go to important meetings like this?” you question.

Minho turns to you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as he smiles.

“Normally I do. Changbin too since he’s the head beta. But with you here, Chan wants the next strongest in the pack with you while he’s away….given the circumstances.” Minho explains.

Of course he was still protecting you even while away. He had been doing it from the start - the whole time you had been here, Changbin or Minho was always with you if Chan wasn’t. It made so much sense now. 

You went over and opened the pantry, browsing for a snack. You finally found one you liked and grabbed it. You stepped back to close the door, only to have the snack snatched from your hand.

“Hey!” you exclaimed.

Your snack thief was Seungmin.

He giggled as he moved away. But you weren’t having it. You began to chase him around the island, demanding he give it back. Of course he opened it and began eating it.

“That was the last one!” You complain.

Seungmin froze, looking at you pouting. “Really?”

You nod. 

“Fine. You can have it.” Seungmin gave it back, kissing you on the cheek.

“Chan just bought a new pack yesterday.” Minho noted.

You glared at him, peeking at Seungmin as he realized you tricked him. Your grip on the snack bag tightened as you squealed when Seungmin lunged at you. He just missed you but quickly made up for it. He scooped you up, making you giggle.

“You lied to me, darling” He feigns shock. “You’re a little trickster.”

You giggle. “Put me down.”

“Nope.” Seungmin walked over and dropped you on the couch, hopping over the back to sit next to you. You collected yourself, dramatically eating the snack in front of him. He just smiled at you, enjoying this moment. 

It was late afternoon, the six of you watching the k-drama Vincenzo, when Changbin paused it.

“Hey!” Everyone whined.

“We all need to get off the couch. We’ve been sitting here for the past two days. Everyone needs to go for a run.”

The boys groaned, definitely not in the mood to go for a run. You didn’t want to either - you wanted to finish the show since you were so into it. 

“Yah! Do you wanna be in fighting shape or not? I’m sure the Nykos and their allies aren’t sitting on their asses.” Changbin argued.

You swallowed thickly - they most certainly weren’t. You had hardly ever seen them watching tv. They were always on the move doing this or that. It was like they never took a day off. So it’s safe to say now they have more of a reason to not sit idle.

“You heard him. Get up!” Minho demanded.

They all groaned and got up, going upstairs to get dressed in some exercise clothes. You went too, going to get dressed as well. It wasn’t your first training session with Changbin but you were still sore from the weight training the other day. The day before that, he had you working on cardio.

Your body was not used to all the physical activity, but it also felt better - like your body was thriving off it. It was exhilarating. Plus you liked spending time with Changbin and staring at his muscles.

Changbin made each of them run two miles on the property while he brought you into the little gym for some strength training. Minho was upstairs, being on guard while everyone was busy (he would work out after).

Changbin started you with small weights, having you do reps to strengthen your arms, abs, and legs. You held the weights at your ears, squatting, and when you stood you raised the weights over your head. You did fifteen reps of that three times. He also had you do lunges, squats and situps too.

Everyone finished running and Changbin instructed them on their own version of strength training as you finished up. Panting, you lay on the floor as your body aches. 

“Running time.” Changbin says. 

“I can’t run two miles!” you exclaimed.

“I know. But we are going to have you run for a bit. Now come on.” Changbin insisted.

He gave instructions to everyone else to finish off their workouts. Then after they would do some sparring. Then he dragged you outside and started a timer on his watch.

“Ready? Go.” 

You began jogging, Changbin at your side. You took the trail on the west side of the property, keeping away from the Nyko border. You didn’t know how long he was going to make you run but he was keeping pace with you, even though you knew he was much faster. You stole a glance at him, smirking. 

Suddenly you push your legs faster, now sprinting as you initiate a race. Changbin chuckles and speeds up, catching up easily and passing you. You dash through the brush on the side, taking a shortcut Jisung had shown you and come out in front of him once more.

“Cheater!” he called out, moving impossibly faster to catch up to you yet again.

You smiled, the wind in your face and the earth beneath your feet. Running was so freeing to you, that you loved it despite the groans you give Changbin about it every time. Maybe it was because you’d been locked in a cage the majority of your life. But this…this was so freeing and didn’t want to lose it.

Changbin called out to you, but you didn’t hear him. You were too lost in the euphoric feeling as the sun shined down on you. You jogged through the trees, darting over branches and bushes, falling logs, and the small creek. You were getting stronger and faster. You could feel it. You didn’t run this fast when the brothers hunted you. But then again, maybe you didn’t because you wanted them to end your suffering.

“Y/N!” Changbin said, cutting you off.

He caught you before you bumped into him, spinning you around. His hands were around your waist, your faces close enough to each other you could kiss. He placed you down, you both panting and catching your breath.

“You’ve gotten so fast in the past couple days.” Changbin noted.

You were too out of breath to talk, exhilarated from the run. You could feel the slight pressure he had as he held you by the waist, your skin feeling tingly. Blushing, you step back and he drops his hands.

“We should head back.” you say between breaths.

“Can I kiss you?” Changbin blurted out.

“What?” you asked, not sure you heard him right over the pounding of your heart in your ears.

“I know you kissed Chan. I figured you would want the alphas to be first, so it’s okay if you say no. I won’t be offended, but I just… I can feel the bond between us getting stronger. And I don’t know if you c-” Changbin rambled.

“Kiss me.” You cut him off.

Changbin froze, looking into your eyes.

You stepped forward, bodies pressed together, and whispered, “Kiss me, Changbin.”

He pressed his lips to yours, softer than you thought he would, and wrapped his arms around your waist. He pressed your body into his, as your lips moved in sync with each other. It felt like another puzzle piece of the bond clicked into place, strengthening what you already knew was there. 

His tongue swiped across your lips, pleading for them to part. You did so, allowing your tongues to dance together as your arms wrapped around his neck. His lips were soft, his body firm against yours. He made you feel so safe - your own bodyguard.

Breaking away, you two caught your breaths. Changbin knew if he didn’t stop himself, he would take you right here in the woods. But he also knew you weren’t ready for that, so he released you. You cleared your throat, wiping your palms on your pants. Your body felt like it was on fire, craving more of the affection. You didn’t want to stop but you knew it was for the best.

“Race you home?” you quirked an eyebrow.

“You’re on.” Changbin said.

With that, you both took off, Changbin letting you win. The boys greeted you, stopping their sparring.

“Tomorrow, you’re gonna learn some sparring.” Changbin says.

Your eyes go wide. You’re excited to be included in all the things they do, treated equally, but the thought also scares you. You were definitely going to get your ass beat.

The drive to the Ahgase pack took a few hours but they finally made it. It was early evening and they were expecting them for dinner. Seungcheol had already arrived but was waiting for Chan to arrive before heading inside.

“Alpha Chan. Good to see you.” Seungcheol shook his hand, bringing him into a hug.

“You too Alpha Seungcheol.” Chan smiled. “Uh, these are my betas Hyunjin and Jisung.”

The two betas bowed towards Seungcheol.

“Minho must be on omega duty.” Seungcheol laughed.

Chan nodded, smiling.

“This is my Alpha Joshua and Head Beta Woozi.” Seungcheol introduced.

Joshua bowed his head, same as Chan, and Woozi bowed fully as did Hyunjin and Jisung.

“Shall we go in?” Seungcheol gestured towards the front door, allowing Chan to lead the way.

“You think we can convince them?” Chan spoke in a low voice to Seungcheol.

“He’s gonna play hard to get, but I believe you can.” Seungcheol gave him a reassuring smile.

Chan rang the doorbell, taking a breath and collecting himself. The door swung open, an attractive male answering. He smiled, stepping aside to let them enter. Chan could smell him in the breeze - beta.

“Welcome. I’m beta Jackson.” he introduced once everyone was inside.

They all slipped off their shoes and proceeded inside, following Jackson through the house. It was an immaculate house - definitely of old money. There was so much ornate detail in the railings of the stairs and balcony, and even in the crown molding. There were statues and figurines on display worth more than the Greenridge house. 

The house was modernized and tastefully done. It held the true character it had developed with time, but still was up to date. Chan was in awe at the place, hoping one day to move his pack into a house like that. He knew you would love it and wished you could see it.

“Welcome.” A male voice spoke, emerging from the kitchen on the right. “Seungcheol, good to see you.”

“Likewise. It’s been too long.” Seungcheol hugged his old friend. “Jae, I would like to introduce you to my good friends from the Greenridge pack. Alpha Chan and his two betas Hyunjin and Jisung.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Jaebeom offered his hand. 

Chan took it, shaking it as he bowed.

“Are you a pack of only one alpha?” Jaebeom asked.

A few others emerged, flanking Jaebeom.

“No. I have two other alphas, one of which just recently presented.”

“Ah, I bet he keeps you busy.”

“Yes.” Chan laughs nervously.

“This is my alpha, Mark. And you met my beta Jackson. This is one of my other betas Jinyoung.” Jaeboem introduced the people behind him.

All six of them bowed, showing respect for the older pack.

“Shall we eat? Dinner is currently being served.” Jaebeom clapped his hands together.

“Please, I’m starving.” Jisung blurted out, earning a glare from Chan.

Jaebeom laughed. “I like him.”

They followed them into the dining room, a huge live edge oak table in the center of it. There were fourteen upholstered chairs in a merlot velvet with wooden legs. They had tall backs, two seam lines going down the inside. The walls were paneling painted in a deep olive green, windows on one side overlooking the backyard just as luxurious as the house. The wall opposite of the windows held a rectangular mirror the length of the table, two china cabinets on each end displaying exquisite china.

The table was fully set for a six course meal, a few wine bottles at each end. The centerpiece was an overflow of flowers, some drooping white fillers, tall grass, stems of lavender, bushels of moss looking foliage and dahlias the color of the seats.

Suddenly, Chan felt they were very underdressed. Not that the Ahgase members were dressed formally - they were just as casual. Chan was sitting next to Jaebeom, who was at the head of the table, opposite of Seungcheol. Hyunjin, Jisung, Joshua, and Woozi were mixed in with Jaebeom’s pack at the table.

“Please, sit.” Jaebeom instructed as a butler pulled out his chair.

Jaebeom sat, placing his napkin on his lap. Everyone pulled out their chairs and sat, except for Seungcheol and Chan who had their chairs pulled out for them by Jaebeom’s employees.

Before Chan could get a word out, a few employees exited the kitchen carrying little plates. They all stood behind each chair, waiting for everyone to be in position before leaning around the person’s right to place the plate down.

“Thank you.” Chan said, slightly bowing at the woman.

Everyone began eating, small chatter starting towards the opposite end of the table. It was an amuse bouche of smoked salmon and cream cheese with diced cucumber on a two-bite sized slice of toasted french baguette.

“So Jaebeom..” Chan began. “We came here to-”

Jaebeom raised his hand to Chan. “Let’s enjoy dinner first. Then we can talk business, yeah?”

“Of course.” Chan nodded.

He was impatient of course, but he had to play along and prove himself if he wanted to be taken seriously.

Dinner was four courses and dessert. After the amuse bouche was a garden salad with the best dressing Chan and Hyunjin had ever tasted. But Jisung wasn’t the biggest fan. After that was a small plate of chicken and gnocchi in a creamy red chili basil sauce. It was heaven and Jisung wanted a whole plate to take home. Jinyoung assured him he would share the recipe, which Jisung said he would have Minho make.

The final entree was a plate of Brown sugar dijon glazed pork medallions on a bed of grilled asparagus and red skinned mashed potatoes. Hyunjin’s mouth was watering just looking at it. It was paired with a delicious red wine that complemented the pork beautifully. They dug in eagerly, enjoying every bite of it.

Small talk went around the table, even between Chan and Jaebeom, but the important topic was left till later.

“We have a few minutes before dessert…” Jaebeom spoke. “I hear you’re looking for help regarding the Nyko pack. Seungcheol was vague in his explanations but why would you pick a fight with them?” 

“I thought there was an agreement between the two packs.” Mark spoke.

“Yes. We do have one, which unfortunately I think I may have broken.”

“You broke the agreement and now you want us to help you?” Jaebeom quirked an eyebrow, looking at Seungcheol who smiled sheepishly.

“It’s not like that. I didn’t break it intentionally or maliciously. A young omega showed up on our territory. She was injured and unconscious, nevermind underweight and malnourished. They were abusing her.”

Jaebeom shifted in his seat, eyes flicking to the members of his pack as they all were on the edge of their seats. They had a few omegas in their own pack and they knew how valuable and precious they were. To hear of one being abused and unloved was…unsettling to say the least.

“I guess the rumors are true.” Jinyoung muttered.

“What rumors?” Seungcheol asked.

“I’ve heard Lewis was an…unfair and abusive leader. There’s no proof so the higher ups never do anything. You know they don’t like to get involved unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“Y/n says there’s two other omegas still there.” Hyunjin added.

“So what’s your plan? Invade their territory, kill them all and rescue the omegas?

“More or less.” Chan shrugged. “I can’t stand around and do nothing. He needs to be stopped. And if I don’t make a move first, he will come for her and try to take her back.”

“These young packs are so… what’s the word?” Jaebeom said with a sigh, rolling his neck. “So impulsive.”

“What would you do then?” Chan asked.

“I’d watch my tone for one.” Mark commented.

“She is your soulmate, yes?” Jaebeom asked.

“Yes. All of ours actually.” Chan stated.

“Wait….she’s the soulmate to all….eight of you?” Bambam questioned.

“Yes.” The three Greenridge members said.

“Aish.” Jaebeom ran his fingers through his hair. “No wonder you are so worked up about it.”

“Would you not be for your omega?” Chan challenged.

“I am truly sorry your omega went through the things she did. But she made it out and she has you now. I’m sure the mental trauma will take time to heal through but physically, I’m sure she’s healed. That doctor Quinn is a miracle worker.” Jaebeom sipped his wine. “The twenty-eight of you should be able to enforce the agreement to stand, seeing as Lewis was in the wrong first. Have you not tried speaking with him first? I have found that a lot of conflicts in my younger days could have easily been solved if we had talked things out and reached a…well if we had reached an agreement. Your fathers did the same years ago, did they no?” 

“Lewis is not a man to reason with. He’s all violence and control. If we were to talk it out, it would have to be on his terms.” Chan ran his fingers through his hair, thinking over how he would even go about it.

“So make it seem like it’s on his terms… that it was his idea.” Jaebeom suggested. “Unfortunately, I’m not a fan of getting involved with the juvenile packs and their squabbles.”

“Please.” Chan begged, not even embarrassed in the slightest to show his desperation to his lessers. “She was shot forty four times that night - four cobalt and the rest silver. She told us they liked to hunt her for fun and only let her out of some dungeon cell to entertain themselves. They raped her, used her with their friends doing god knows what, and beat her down till she had no hope left.”

“She was also marked by Lewis.” Hyunjin added, knowing it was hard for Chan to say himself.

Chan clenched his jaw.

“He marked an omega that wasn’t his soulmate?”

“Yes.” Chan said through gritted teeth. “He made her believe he was her soulmate.”

Before Jaebeom could respond, a lady came over and leaned down asking if they were ready for dessert. Jaebeom nodded and everyone straightened in their chairs. The tension in the air was palpable.

“Please enjoy dessert while I talk with my pack.” Jaebeom says.

The entirety of his pack stood and exited the dining room as the women came out with plates of dessert. It was a square of pink looking jello, some sort of white cream and yellow cake bottom. It had a flattened flower garnishing the top. After all the plates were set down, one of the servers stood behind the head chair.

“Dessert is a rose blossom panna cotta tart. Please enjoy.” She bowed and walked back into the kitchen with her team.

“Rose blossom?” Jisung whispered, eyeing it.

Hyunjin took a bite and his eyes opened wide. “Mmmm”

Jisung tried a bite and also enjoyed it.

“It isn’t looking good, is it?” Chan asked Seungcheol.

“If he’s discussing it with the pack, that’s a good sign. Jaebeom doesn’t force his pack to do anything he wouldn’t. So he makes sure everyone is on board with something. If they aren’t he hears them out and considers it. He’s a very fair leader.” Seungcheol explains.

It was a little while longer when Jaebeom finally returned. He sat down, as did his fellow members. The members began eating their dessert, Jaebeom also taking a bite.

“We will agree to help you, should it come to a fight.” Jaebeom announced. “If my omega were to have been in that situation, I would probably have been pleading on every door to find help to stop the son of a bitch that refused to treat her like a queen.”

“Thank you.” Chan stood abruptly from his chair and shook Jaebeom’s hand. “Thank you so much.” 

Hyunjin and Jisung shook the hands of the Ahgase pack and thanked them for their support.

“Just call me and we will be there to help fight.” Jaebeom nods his head. “No one who treats an omega like that should be an alpha. I have connections with people of the Hybrid Association. I will send word and hopefully they can intervene before this becomes a full on war.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you so much.” Chan says.

Now that the main issue was settled, you all continued with conversation for the next hour, drinking more wine and touring the mansion.  The grounds were as immaculate as the inside with top notch landscaping done. Rose bushes trimmed to the nine, flowers planted strategically, and even shaped shrubs of a wolf, bunny, and elephant adorned the land. They also had a fountain in the backyard amidst a gravel pathway that led down to a gazebo in the far corner of the main lawn. Their property stretched onwards, beyond a dense woodland but there wasn’t anything to see back there.

“Please come by for breakfast in the morning before you leave. We truly enjoyed your company.” Jaebeom insisted.

“We appreciate the offer, but we don’t want to impose.” Chan smiled.

“You wouldn’t be.” Jaebeom assured.

“Okay. We would love to.” Chan smiled, his betas nodding in agreement.

“Great. See you at nine am.” Jaebeom said.

They said their goodbyes, heading to their motel for the night. With full bellies of delicious food, they were ready for sleep.

Back at the pack house, everyone was also settling down for sleep. You had a great day with the pack, even though you were sore as hell from your workout. Everyone was a little sore honestly.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, the coziness of your new sheets and room comforting you. Your nest was much better now, appealing to how you like it. You even had the boys’ scents mixed in now that they would come in there more often. It was definitely home.

You had been sleeping for only a few hours until a nightmare jolted you awake. You panted, looking around your dimly lit room. Your nightmare consisted of Chan being tortured and abused while you screamed, begged, and pleaded for Lewis to leave him alone. 

Shivering at the memory of the dream, you climb out of bed and step into the hall. You found yourself seeking the comfort and security of being with someone and not alone. Next door was Minho’s room and you found yourself opening his door.

You stepped inside, looking at him sleeping in his bed. Subconsciously, you walked over to him, reaching out to wake him. You thought better of it, and turned to leave.

“Where you going, kitten?” Minho asked in a raspy voice.

“I..uh..”

“What’s wrong?” Minho sat up, alert.

“I just…nothing.” you turned to leave once more.

“Y/n…”

“I just had a nightmare. I’m okay.” You whispered.

“You don’t have to go.” 

You turned around, looking at Minho. He opened the covers to his bed, encouraging you to come lay down. It felt so vulnerable…but you really didn’t want to go back and lay alone in your room. So you walked forward, going to the opposite side and crawling into bed.

You were a safe distance away and settled into his sheets, smothered in his scent but you didn’t mind. It was already lulling you to sleep when you felt Minho’s arm snake around and pull you to him.

You tensed, only to relax into his warmth as you were flush with his body. He was breathing in your scent, your hair in his face as he snuggled closer. You had never felt so safe and secure, falling asleep easily.

It was a peaceful slumber and you woke up feeling so rested. His bed was so comfy, his scent all around you. But…there was another scent. A scent you knew all too well.

Not again… you thought.

Minho had gone into a rut.

TAGLIST:

@estella-novella @lxvxchxrlxttxbxrsx22-blog @butterflydemons @readr1221 @gaby105-skz @notevenheretbh1 @bah2004 @sinfulfic @bowsnbang @just-a-blackthorn-cookie @dreamerwasfound @motheraiya55 @m00njinnie @writeuntilthebitterend @jutdwae-flower @staytinyluv @emmxxsworld @galaxy4489 @wolfo2027 @iknow-uknow-leeknow @sillygoosegoose

Shout out to my lovely betas!! @its-the-solar-system @cherry-erii

[thus-spoke-lo]

cw: gn!reader. fluff. uses prompt from here. wc: 1.2k

The soft, insistent trill of the den-den mushi on your bedside table pulls you from the misty depths of sleep and launches you into an unwanted consciousness as you scramble to answer it. Sleep-numb fingers feebly grab at the receiver and clumsily bring it to your face, and you mutter something you hope was a greeting, your face still smushed firmly into your pillow.

A low chuckle emanates from the other end of the line, one unmistakably Doflamingo’s.

“My poor darling,” he mocks sweetly, “did I wake you?”

“Of course you did, it’s the middle of the damn night.” As soon as the words leave your lips, you suck in air through your teeth, already regretting your tone.

There is a pause—one just long enough to make you squirm—before Doflamingo speaks again. “Is that really how you’d like to start this conversation?”

His reaction reminds you quickly of your place, and you allow yourself a deep inhale before sitting up and continuing. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired, I didn’t mean any harm. What’s going on?”

“Thankfully, not much at all,” he says, the callousness in his tone dissipating just as quickly as it had manifested. “Things are still going as planned, I should be home in a few more days as expected.”

“Well…that’s good.”

“What did you do this evening?”

You furrow your brow and stare at the den-den on the bedside table, willing it to explain what in the hell is going on, but it gives you nothing in return. “Ah, well, not much else since the last time we talked, I guess. I had dinner. I walked the gardens at sunset. I listened to a record and read a few more chapters of my book, and nodded off on the veranda. Only woke up and came inside once the temperature started to drop.”

He hums affirmatively, makes some comment about wishing he was there to wrap you in his arms to keep you warm, but it sounds hollow. Distant. Like he’s miles away not just from you but from himself.

“Is—is everything okay?” you ask, your tone as calm and measured as you can make it.

“Of course, little bird,” he responds after a moment, a moment that would be unremarkable to most but tells you more and more of what you want to know. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug, knowing he can’t see it, but suspecting he can feel it. “This is just a surprise, that’s all.”

“What are you talking about? I always call you when I’m away.” He pauses and laughs quietly. “Have to keep tabs on you, make sure you’re behaving. You are being good for me, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” you grin, his low, rumbling voice igniting something at the base of your spine as it always does. “It’s just…usually you don’t call in the middle of the night like this.”

He clears his throat, and you huff a small sigh. You wait for him to say something else, something pithy, something mocking, something innuendo-laden, but there is only silence, occasionally interrupted by breaths that sound increasingly unsteady.

It’s the nightmares again, it has to be. Doflamingo allows himself a certain amount of vulnerability around you, allows you to peer behind crimson lenses and see him, truly see him, for what he is and what he was and what he will be. The one unavoidable point of vulnerability that you were privy to very early on were the nightmares—the visions that would disturb even the deepest slumbers, when his sweat would soak the sheets and his face would contort and his limbs would writhe as he cried out. He would wake, shaking and breathless and lost for words, and at first you would lay there motionless, unsure if even a word would wind him up further, and you’d stare at the ceiling as he’d walk out onto the balcony and his shoulders would heave with quiet sobs under the moonlight.

Eventually, you were emboldened to soothe him, the way you wanted to, the way you wished someone would have done for you in the years you’d wake from your own night terrors. You’d climb into his lap and press your forehead to his, place your hands on his cheeks and hold him still, quietly muttering that he was okay, it was all okay, nothing was real except for you and him. And the tremors would soon subside, the tears would dry upon his tanned skin, and he’d bristle slightly at the sudden realization that he was raw and bare before you, before curling himself around you and drifting back off, holding you so tightly you thought perhaps one day he’d break you like a porcelain doll.

You crumple a handful of silken sheet in your hand, then smooth it out, repeating the action a few more times before you try again. “Love, is—are you okay?”

“I just needed a distraction,” he spits, every word enunciated to let you know he cares not for the pity in your tone, no matter how much, deep down, he might crave it. “Is that a problem for you? Hm?”

“Well, how would you like me to distract you?”

“Tell me about the book you read today.”

“Seriously?” You can’t help but laugh—you had been deeply ensconced in a romance novel, the kind he teased you for reading, the kind he’d make you read the most scandalous lines aloud from, just to watch you squirm. “I’m not sure it would interest you.”

“I gave you an order, little bird—are you going to obey, or will you deal with the consequences when I get back?”

As tempting as it was to push him further, test the waters and see just what sort of reprimand you could earn for yourself upon his arrival home, you think better of it and retrieve your novel from the bedside table, introducing him to the first chapter as you revisit it like an old friend. Doflamingo responds as expected as you weave your way through the pages, asking a few valid questions just to seem engaged, mostly teasing you at every lewd sentence that you have to utter. Soon, his questions about the plot grow fewer and further between, his words quiet and his speech muffled.

You pause, and wait for him to chide you for being derelict in your duty of reading to him, but he doesn’t say a thing (a first, you smile to yourself). “Doflamingo? Love? Are you still there?”

He is, still attached to you from miles and miles away, still holding tightly to you in his own way, as he sleeps, his breathing slow and heavy. You set the receiver next to you, listening to him inhale and exhale, a soft snore breaking up the rhythm now and again, and settle yourself under the covers. You place your hand on the empty spot beside you in bed, suddenly, achingly, missing him, and wishing him dreamless sleep as you slip back under into your own slumber again.

[httpiastri]

a quick snippet/teaser for the jeddah chapter!! <3 rlly wanted to write something quick abt him yesterday so i wrote this on the bus. hope you all have a lovely day and that you'll be sending all of your love to this cutie boy during the race 😚

(i needed someone to guide the reader for a sec so i used chris, i have no idea why. if don't know him then don't worry, he's not important for the story lol...)

series masterlist

you've never ever been to the ferrari paddock before, so as you stand in the middle of it, you have no idea where to go or what to do; this is completely new territory. thankfully, you got a vip-pass from ollie before he ran off for his pre-qualifying duties, so at least you have the privilege of looking like a fool inside of the paddock instead of right outside the doors.

a fool dressed in a red bull cap, even. great.

"you don't look like you belong here, miss," a voice rumbles from behind you. your heart stops in your chest, and you're ready to improvise an excuse or find an escape route when you turn around – but luckily, you're met with chris, ollie's manager, standing there.

"thank god you're here," you say, letting out a sigh of relief. "do you happen to know where ollie is?"

he nods, smiling. "he's borrowing carlos's room. it's right down the hall and to the left."

you quickly thank him, turning again and making your way down said hallway. the room is easy to find, the two big, red fives on the door sticking out among the white walls. you're glad to find it unlocked, but you still knock a few times before sticking your head inside.

"sweetheart? can i come in?"

ollie is sitting on a massaging table, elbows on top of his legs and head resting in his hands. his eyes are stuck on the floor, but you take his silence as a yes.

"i got your text," you say, tiptoeing inside and shutting the door behind you, careful to not make any loud sounds to scare him. "how are you doing?"

when he still doesn't answer, your heat rate picks up. is something really wrong?

you make your way over to him, hands finding his cheeks and softly tilting him up to look at you – and you swear you've never seen him look this wrecked before.

not after his worst crashes, not when he lost the rookie championship last year. once again, you've entered completely new territory, and your heart breaks at the sight.

"ollie, talk to me," you plead, biting back the pout that starts to form on your lips. it's so painful to look into his eyes, but you can't back down. not now, not when he needs you this much.

"i'm-" his voice cracks but he shakes his head, clearing his throat. "i'm so nervous, i don't know what to do."

it's like he's oozing anxiety, and his heavy sigh is like a stab in your chest. ollie, your usually so calm and collected boyfriend, is probably going crazy over this – you know him well enough by now to understand that he's definitely freaking out even more on the inside than what he shows or tells. "i get that. one hundred percent. but," your thumbs begin to stroke over the skin of his cheeks, along his jaw, and then finally across his eyebrows, to which his eyes flutter closed. "this is your dream. it's been your dream since forever, and now you finally have the chance."

ollie sighs, but nods. you're getting to him.

"and it's not just any car, it's a ferrari. do you realize how cool that is? do you realize how many people would kill for an opportunity like this?" you smile at the sight of him with his eyes still shut, eyelashes resting atop his cheeks, messy fringe covering his forehead. even like this, at his most stressed state, he's completely gorgeous. "you would've killed for an opportunity like this just 24 hours ago."

"but what if i ruin it?" his voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, shoulders slumping forward. "what if i go out there and i'm shit, and then they realize what a big mistake they've done by even putting me in the academy? what if-"

"it won't happen." his eyelids slowly open and he looks up at you, seemingly not even the slightest upset that you cut him off. "you're too good to do that. you'll get in that car and it will feel like your second home, just like it always does."

finally, a small smile makes its way onto his lips. it's only been a few minutes since you came in, but he seems much more relaxed now, leaning into your touch completely. "i'll try my best to make you proud."

you pout. "i'll be proud even if you end up with a slower lap than your pole lap from yesterday."

a laugh bubbles from his chest and he stands up from the table, opening his arms wide and pulling you in for a tight hug. his heart is still beating louder than a drum in his chest when your ear is pressed up against it, and you're almost worried it will jump out any second now. but his breaths are much more controlled now, and his mind seems much lighter.

he presses a long kiss to the crown of your head, arms squeezing you tight. "go out there and show them, baby," you tell him.

and so he does.

[seraphinitegames]

Hey, Mishka!!!

I've been replaying TWC over the last couple of months, and must say, it's been an entirely rejuvenating experience for me. Like, I was reading it the first time, although I've replayed the series quite too many (worrying number) of times already. And it still manages to amaze me, EVERY SINGLE TIME.

I've repeated this in the past, and I'll repeat it again. The Wayhaven Chronicles is a blessing for me and I'm sincerely thankful to have come across it when I did. And I'm grateful to you for making this lovely world a reality (and of course, the four beautiful vamps)! Really eager for Book 4 and have already player the demo; can say it's gonna be worth the wait. It every time is.

Replaying the series in the last few months, I had a certain uncontrollable urge to drop and ask a few questions to you. Apologize in advance for the long ask and message, but it had been bottling up inside of me for SOOOOOO LONG.

1. In Book 1, when we're to lead the investigation in one of the three directions, is there any way to get success in any direction without Bobby making a big joke out of our investigation in the newspaper?

2. In Book 2, when Nicole and Max Salinas come to report their incident, can Tina actually find out anything unusual? If so, what is actually needed to explain that?

3. In Book 3, I noticed if we choose to go the final mission alone, depending on the route chosen, Boddy/Doug will end up tagging along as well, jeopardizing everything. Is there still a way to complete the mission successfully and rescuing everyone like it happens when we go along with Rebecca?

4. Less of a question, but more of a plea. Please tell me we can get a pet anytime in the series. I was just curious if we can get one.

5. How powerful is the big baddie in Book 4 compared to Unit Bravo? You don't need to answer if this verges on spoiler-y territory.

Really sorry to overwhelm you with this, but it's just months and months of joy, happiness, and sheer ecstasy making me blabber on about this world like this. Thanks once again, for making this truly beautiful story, world, and the vampires a reality.

Have a good day!!!! Lots of love from India!!

You can never play a game you love too many times (I keep telling myself that as I gradually burn a hole into my poor old console playing Dragon Age over and over, lol!)! If it brings you happiness, then that's what is important! :D

Ok, let's see about the questions...it's been a whole since I've gone through the older games without being in editing mode, hehe!

I don't think so...Bobby is, well, Bobby. And that scene was there very much to establish their character and show the player what type of person they are.

I don't think so, again. If there's anything unusual or odd, then I usually like to let the MC find that instead of it happening 'off-screen' so it's more impactful for the player—unless it's Verda discovering stuff, because that needs to happen for…reasons.

Iirc, in the Bobby/Doug routes, you get the auction scene, so a lot of that branch involves focusing on saving yourself! But the other team that joins Unit Bravo will help in saving a lot of the captives in that version.

I would love that being a massive animal companion fan myself, hehe! But likely not, just because the MC is away a lot from home, and that's unfair on the pet, even a fictional one, lol. I was tempted to give the MC a supernatural pet that hung around at the facility—that was definitely a strong idea at one point just so I could write a pet in the series for those that wanted it (me, I was the one who wanted it, hehe!) :D

**BOOK FOUR DEMO SPOILERS AHEAD** It's not just that Book Four's villain is terrifyingly powerful (or will be. They are, thankfully for the MC and UB, in a weakened state for a while due to what's happened to them and what happened in Chapter Two) but it's a lot to do with the fact that their power specifically counteracts and weakens Unit Bravo's. So that's a double whammy!

Thank you SO incredibly much for the amazing message! It means more than you can know <3

[asuyaka]

Ok hear me out, Reader is besties with Gojo and Geto and was paired with them to deliver the Star Plasma Vessel(Riko) and Readers notices how the girl's passing seemed to take a toll on Geto the most, so after seeing his decreasing health, both physical and mental, they decided to reach out to him and pull him out of his dark thoughts. Yes I am in denial about the recent chapters, this is how I cope. This man deserves all the hugs in the world😭😭

★ - 'm totally agree! all Satoru had ta do was speak with Suguru 'n JJK probably wouldn't have happened !! <(＿　＿)>

☆ - Teen! Geto Suguru x Male Reader — Can be read as platonic or romantic !!

♡ - Hurt/comfort, suicidal thoughts, and Suguru bein' mildly racist towards non-sorcerers (；′⌒`)

The merging of the Star Plasma Vessel— Riko Amanai— and Tengen went to shit the second Fushiguro Toji came into the picture.

You tried, you tried saving her even though you were scared. No one could touch Satoru, but Toji could. Toji killed him and Riko like it was nothing.

You and Suguru weren't enough, he was too strong. When he killed Rainbow Dragon, Suguru's strongest curse, the reality set in that you two most likely weren't going to make it out alive.

You did, thankfully, but at what cost?

Your quaint little friend group broke up. Shoko was busy learning medical Jujutsu most of the time, Satoru had officially become the strongest and started taking solo missions which left you and Suguru.

But after that day, you noticed something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Suguru had lost weight, his hair which he prided himself in taking care of had split ends and was mildly greasy and he had eye bags.

This also added to the fact that he was coming late to class almost every day sent alarm bells in your head, so you decided to check up on him.

In your home clothes since you didn't have any impending missions and classes were over, you knocked on Suguru's door. He's stopped coming to class the past few days which scared the shit out of you since Suguru doesn't miss class unless it's something serious.

You waited, hoping to hear an answer. When you didn't, you checked the doorknob. It was open so you walked in, announcing yourself just in case Suguru was busy with something.

His room was a mess. The trash can was overflowing, clothes were piled up in a corner and dishes were stacked on the sink.

Suguru was curled up in his bed—which was also a mess, sheets that needed to be washed and his bed was in desperate need of a making— his blanket pulled up to his neck and his body facing away from the doorway.

"Suguru?" You whispered, checking his breathing just in case. It was there and stable, which meant he was just sleeping. You gently tapped on him, noticing the soft tear lines on his cheek.

He had cried himself to sleep.

Suguru stirred as his eyes opened slowly, blinking away the tiredness when he saw your concerned face. "[Name]..? What are you doing here?"

"I came to check on you. You haven't been in class, so I got worried. Are you okay?"

Suguru sat up and rubbed his eyes. He didn't realize he'd been gone for that long, it felt better to stay asleep than wake up. Some days he wished he stayed asleep forever.

"Sorry, I lost track of time." He came up with a lie off the top of his head, hoping you wouldn't question anything and leave him alone.

He knows you though. Knows how empathetic you are, knows how caring you are to the people you love, so it was no surprise when you sat on his bed making yourself comfortable. "Are you okay, Suguru?"

"I told you, I just lost track of time—"

"Suguru..." Your voice was soft as you took his hands into yours. Usually, his were well-manicured and painted black, but now they were long. Suguru hated it when his nails were long, they always got in the way when he was fighting curses. "You don't have to lie to me, you don't have to say anything you don't want to. Please, just tell me if you need help and I'll help you. I won't ask for anything more."

Suguru tensed up. Does he need help? He hasn't felt like himself ever since... everything happened a few months ago. The world felt so grey and he couldn't think of a reason to keep waking up and getting out of bed.

So what if those monkeys needed saving? Sorcerers shouldn't have to put their lives on the line to save people who were barely worth saving.

He feels sluggish. He reeks, his hair feels so greasy and his eyes are heavy. He just wants to lie down and hopefully take his last breath. He can't keep doing this— be a sorcerer that is.

He hates morals, he hates that 'the strong should protect the weak' bullshit, he hates that he wasn't strong enough to protect someone who needed saving, someone who deserved it.

He's so tired. Tired of the Jujutsu world, tired of the fake lies of non-sorcerers, tired of everything.

"...please." He mutters out, his hands slightly squeezing yours and his head hanging in shame.

You nod as you help him up. You don't need to tell him anything right now. If he needs you, if he needs your help, that's all that matters.

You start a bath and help him get undressed, closing your eyes for the sake of his privacy when you got to his boxers.

The water was warm against your legs, and you thanked yourself that you wore shorts instead of sweats. You washed him, taking extra care of his hair to show him you remembered how much he loved it. Show him how much you care about him.

You leave him momentarily to grab clean clothes, settling on an old Mario shirt, black shorts, and a pair of fuzzy white and black socks.

"Do you want to stay here while I clean?" You asked as you tied his hair into a loose ponytail, the smell of his cinnamon shampoo in the air.

Suguru shook his head. He wanted—no— needed to stay close to you. To hold you, to feel someone else's warmth against his. You didn't ask any questions, letting him hold onto your waist as you went to make his bed.

He stayed like that, pressed against you as you sorted his clothes, cleaned his kitchen, swept his floor, helped him take care of his nails, and him made him food.

Suguru doesn't feel like he deserves this. He doesn't deserve you. You're being so patient with him, you aren't judging him for being messy or unclean, you weren't judging the fact that his fridge was almost empty, you were just there.

There for him, to make him feel better.

Suguru feels like he's going to cry.

He's pressed against your chest, hands wrapped around your waist as he listens to you read aloud a book you had brought with you, hands in his hair, scratching his scalp gently.

"...thank you." He mumbles, wiping the wet away from his eyes. He feels so loved, like someone would care if he flat out died.

You smile softly, pressing a kiss against his head. "I'm always going to be here for you Suguru. No matter what."

And for the first time in months, he believes that it's worth it to live. That if he gets to feel you like this, he might stay in the Jujutsu world. All for you— everything for you.

[sixosix]

YOU GOTTA LEAVE BEFORE YOU GET LEFT | LYNEY

warnings profanity, angsty fighting (violence but it’s not descriptive), 3.7k words!

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The House of the Hearth is quiet around this hour, save for the soft snores coming from the rooms, or the clink-clink-clink of your polearm when hitting your arms. Lynette has already crashed somewhere, but Lyney can’t sleep a wink. At least, if you asked him what he’s doing in the training room alone watching you, that’s what he would say.

Thankfully, you haven’t asked; didn’t even acknowledge when he slipped into the room.

Lyney hasn’t been able to stop thinking about a few nights ago when he saw a glimpse of something real from you. Your smile and his newfound determination to defeat you to see more of it.

Sweat rolls off your temple, your breath visible in a silhouette of a misty cloud. You strike the air as if it’s insulted you greatly. With one final swing, you pause, turning to look at him.

Lyney can tell something is wrong. Your eyes are heavier; your movements are more sluggish than usual. This is the first time he’s seen you in a few days, with him going out for missions and coming back to hear that you’ve been cooped up in the training room day and night, frustration rolling off of you in waves.

Lyney smiles instead. “Would you like to spar?”

Your gaze is intense. Lyney could see a flame sparking in them when he asked you. But it fades when you ask, “Lyney, ‘Father’ has just returned yesterday, right? Has she talked to you at all?”

Lyney blinks. “Oh, um. No, I haven't really seen ‘Father’.”

Your shoulders loosen. “Alright.”

Then, you stand before him—all Lyney needs as an answer.

He’s gotten better with a bow, his only form of weapon during missions when they get a little more dangerous than prying information. But he only gets to feel the thrill of it when he’s facing you, who’s always one step ahead.

He bows. “It is an honor.”

Something of a smile flickers on your face when he looks back up. “You always say that whenever we do this.”

Lyney beams, pleased to hear you speak to him beyond anything related to training. “It’s no lie.”

“Then,” you twirl your polearm around in a hypnotizing circle, and Lyney feels a near-maniacal grin creep up his face, “overcome me.”

Lyney takes the first shot, no longer surprised when you barely flinch as you swerve. You move as swiftly as his arrows. He fires another shot, then another, and another at a rapid pace. As expected, you dodge and deflect all of them with ease. Even when not at your full best, you can easily conquer everyone.

But Lyney’s been watching closely. His eyes follow every shift, catching each minuscule movement of how you favor one side more than the other or how your eyes are fixed on his weapon and nothing else.

You start drawing closer, your steps so fluid that anyone else wouldn’t have noticed it. Lyney conceals a smile.

Your eyes widen when Lyney disappears into a twirl of cards, fading out of view, disappearing into nothingness, just like that.

You pant, looking around warily, “How did you—” only for your breath to hitch when Lyney materializes right behind you, kicking your weapon off your staggered grip and aiming his arrow right at your head.

His eyes are narrowed as if facing a real enemy—as if preparing to actually shoot with one wrong move. But that’s not right, because how could Lyney ever bring himself to hurt you when you smile at him like that?

“That was…new,” you say, breathing heavily. Your exhaustion is getting to you now.

Lyney’s lungs are doing just as bad. “Thank you,” he manages to say, sensing a compliment when he hears one. “It’s only right for a magician to have tricks up his sleeves, right?”

He doesn’t know how to tell you that he’s taken advantage of your state. Had you not been visibly tired, you never would’ve fallen for his trick. It’s victory, but he doesn’t feel as if he’s really won.

Now that you admit defeat, Lyney says, “Let’s take a break.”

To his delight, you murmur a yes. Now that’s victory.

The orphanage has become used to the sight of the magician twins tailing after you, with Lyney grinning smugly and Lynette close behind because, really, her brother was just tagging along. And some other times, they’ve become used to the sight of Lynette curled up on the couch with Freminet resting his head on her lap while you yell at Lyney to piss off, and he doesn’t piss off.

You’ve even come to admit them as friends. Mostly Lynette, though. Lyney’s just there because they’re twins.

Lyney pouts. “I mean, we’re basically friends now, right?”

You send him a strange look. “What are you talking about? No, we’re not.”

“Whaaat?”

You push his face away when he’s decided to come up all over your personal space. “I like your sister better.”

“Lynette and I are twins!” he whines.

“Completely different people, still.”

Lynette does a mischievous half-smile, blinking slowly. “Don’t tease him too much,” she said. “He’ll cry when it comes to you.”

Lyney splutters. “Lynette!”

Thankfully, the Archons are on his side. You don’t look too deeply into Lynette’s words, simply laughing and returning back to your food, chatting comfortably with his sister and Freminet. Despite all the bickering, Lyney feels warm inside.

“Lyney,” you say, catching his gaze. “Do you want to spar later?”

Lyney’s heart soars. “Yes, of course.”

In the comfort of their own room, Lynette strikes.

“Y/N is really nice,” Lynette says when Lyney is practicing tricks with his hat. “You think so, too, right?”

Lyney doesn’t know where this is going. He fumbles with the rose. “Mhm. Yeah.”

Tonight is particularly cold; the old-fashioned fireplace is barely doing anything. Lyney wants to check on the training room—it’s always much warmer there.

Lynette shifts beside him, and Lyney can feel the weight of her infinitely keen stare. “And you also think that you should tell me who you’re practicing those flowers for, right?”

“I—what—” Lyney’s face goes hot. “It’s for my tricks, Lynette! What are you trying to imply?”

His sister sniffs, as if Lyney is just an insignificant little thing. “I don’t know what you and Y/N have been doing lately, but I'm happy to see you happy.”

Lynette smiles at him. “I haven’t seen you like this for so long. I’ll do my best to not let anything take this away from you.”

Speechless, Lyney could only utter: “Lynette…”

In all honesty, Lyney doesn’t know what changed—doesn’t know how it shifted into something else he can’t quite put a finger on. Maybe it’s the fact that he and his sister have a home now, despite the fact that it’s an intelligence source for the Harbingers. Or maybe it’s…something deeper than that, something to do with you.

“It’s really nothing,” Lyney says softly. “You don’t have to do anything, okay? I promise you.”

Lynette nods, trusting her brother easily. “Okay. I just don’t want you to lose this.”

Ha, as if he could even bring himself to do that.

“Hey, is Lyney in this room?” someone yells, rapping on the door frantically. “Father’s looking for Lyney. Is Lynette here?”

“What…?” Lyney mumbles, turning to the window and belatedly noticing sunlight peeking through from the sides of the curtains. “Oh no. I didn’t get any sleep.”

“And ‘Father’ is looking for you,” Lynette says, amused. “Go, Lyney. Shoo.”

Lyney scurries off and nods politely at the person who had summoned him. He pads over to the dining table, where ‘Father’ is always waiting, desserts laid before her.

“Lyney,” she greets. Lyney felt the hair rise on the back of his neck, but also warmth spread throughout his chest, happy to see the person who had changed his and his sister’s life. “Come. Would you like a plate?”

Eating something sugary while he lacks sleep is not the brightest idea. “No, thank you, ‘Father’.”

“Alright,” she says lightly, taking a bite and indulging in her cake for a long pause. “You’ve been training hard, haven’t you?”

“Yes, ‘Father’.” He sits somewhere that’s a chair away from her, too nervous to sit close and too afraid to sit too far. He still doesn’t know what ‘Father’ thinks of him, or what to think of ‘Father’.

“And you’ve gotten stronger since receiving your Vision.” It sounds like a question, but that’s not right. ‘Father’ always knows what’s happening in the House of the Hearth.

“…Yes,” Lyney says slowly, unsure where this is heading.

Arlecchino leans back, pleased. “Hm. Good.”

Lyney isn’t quite sure what’s happening, but she asks about how he and his sister are doing, and they get involved in an almost-something-of-a casual conversation. Lyney’s nerves are on high alert the entire time, as if suspecting that this is a test. But after that, ‘Father’ dismisses him before Lyney can start being suspicious.

He doesn’t think too much of it. He leaves the room and feels as if he could melt on the floor from exhaustion.

Someone sees him and claps him on the back, startling him enough to wake him up. She glances at the door he just came out of and hums lowly. “Did ‘Father’ call for you?”

“Yes.”

“Ha,” she snorts. “Guess that’ll happen a lot when you're the next successor, huh? Lucky you.”

“Yeah,” Lyney agrees, though he doesn’t really know what it means. He doesn’t really care because at least ‘Father’ still wants to keep them around.

Most importantly of all, in this orphanage, Lyney has been having the time of his life. His sparring with you has led him to a tentative friendship of sorts. He can confidently say he knows you as well as he knows Lynette and Freminet. He’s been living in bliss, always pleased to have a home and a family to come back to, no matter how gruesome the mission they’re sent to.

He and Lynette have been seeing the House off with missions successfully fulfilled, and ‘Father’ has acknowledged their loyalty. Their worth. Whispers about successors get louder. Lyney pays them no mind—this is only them acknowledging his worth.

Days would pass. Lyney would perform tricks for his fellow orphans. Lynette would tell him that she’d rather not be in the spotlight. Days would pass. You would keep on overworking yourself, and Lyney would try to pull you away from it.

“Y/N,” Lyney announces his presence with just your name, standing by the doorway.

You don’t flinch nor even waver from your moves, nearly dancing with how swiftly you move across the grassy field. It’s easier to talk over the slash over your weapon this time, at least, with the sounds spreading across the evening air. Lyney can shout and he doesn’t have to fear waking up anyone.

He has to wake you up first, though.

“Y/N,” he tries again, his fingertips beginning to burn underneath the steaming plate. Despite his connection with fire, his skin is beginning to feel irritated—or perhaps it’s proof of how long he’s been carrying your dinner. “Your food’s gonna get cold.”

“Leave it there,” you finally answer, slowing to a halt. Your back is facing him, posture perfect, and Lyney’s star-struck even in moments like this.

“And you’re going to eat it?”

“I will.”

That’s what you said last time, and Lyney came back to a full plate, untouched even by ants. Lyney decides to stay, content with watching over you until you tire and give in. He’s been hearing that you’re relentless, not even sparing a single glance to anyone.

“Why have you been practicing so hard recently? Is ‘Father’ punishing you? Did you sneak out again?”

You deign to face him with a fierceness that could match the fire of his Vision. “As if ‘Father’ has even looked at me.”

Lyney blinks slowly. “...What?”

Then—it was that moment that Lyney realized this was more serious than he realized—you school your expression into something blank. He was asking the wrong questions. He feels like there’s an invisible wall between the two of you, even when he’s already far away.

“You all have something I don’t,” you say, lowering your weapon. “Tell me, Lyney, if I start slacking off, will she even look at me the way she does to you?”

“What are you talking about?”

Your expression grows colder. “You wouldn’t understand. Who am I kidding? Just leave the food; I’ll eat it.”

“How do I know that?” he asks weakly.

“Take the hint, Lyney. I want to be alone right now.”

Days would pass. Lyney gets busier—his life gets more hectic. He starts performing on stages, small ones, but stages with props galore nonetheless. Lynette starts to feel more confident joining him, but she still has to work on her expressions. Days would pass. Lyney sees you less often. Your thread is snapping.

He enters the training room, where it’s been eerily silent. Not even Freminet nor Lynette tried to train today as if sensing danger from inside. But all he sees inside is you, staring silently at the wall, heaving.

Lyney sees your state and winces, your shoulder hiked to your ears and your expression unpleasant. “Y/N,” he calls out softly, “Are you okay?”

You’re really not, and it’s obvious, but how else does Lyney approach this?

You take a too-long moment to respond, eyes distant. “I’m…fine.”

Lyney hesitates, wildly looking around the room for something to distract you with. “Do you want to spar?”

“No.”

He should’ve known the moment he noticed you were acting strange: there’s something bothering you enough to leave you trapped in the training room. He tries to think hard about it, looking back at the first moment you were acting off. He comes up with nothing.

“Lyney,” you say, “you should leave.”

“No,” he says firmly. “I’m not leaving if you’re going to keep this up.”

“Lyney,” you say, facing him fully with a scowl. “That was not a question. Leave.”

“Y/N, I…” Lyney thinks and thinks. What has been happening recently? He’s been sent off for missions far too often that he hasn’t been able to notice this sooner. How long has this been happening? Why is this happening?

If anything, you’re far too prideful to show your weakness. To break down like this so suddenly… How will ‘Father’ react to this? Surely, she would put a stop to it if you were always next to her. But he hasn’t seen you next to ‘Father’ in so long. In fact, he’s…

Lyney stares cautiously. “Are their words bothering you?”

“They’re always talking.” That’s not a yes, but Lyney feels like he should take it as one. “Lately, they’ve been talking much louder than before.”

“That’s it, isn’t it? It’s about ‘Father’’s successor?”

Your mouth curls up in a snarl. “Don’t rub it in my face. You, of all people, shouldn’t ask that to me.”

Lyney’s heart sinks. So it was him who was causing this. “Whatever you’re hearing isn’t true.”

“What? Don’t make me out to be so stupid. You spar with me to gauge my weaknesses. You want to become the next successor.”

“I don’t want to become the next anything,” he pleads, instinctively taking a step back when you inch closer.

“That’s what it is, right? You see me as a challenge? So that’s what you meant?” Something is terribly wrong. You’re looking in his direction, but he doesn’t feel the weight of your gaze—like you’re only seeing through him.

Lyney frowns. He’s being cornered. “No, what—”

“I changed my mind,” you say, your shoulders tensing and the grip on your weapon tightening until your knuckles turn white. “You don’t want to leave? Fight me. Now. Prove that you’re worth more than me.”

“Y/N,” Lyney says lowly. “You’re not thinking straight right now. I don’t want to—”

You strike at his side. Lyney only manages to block it because of his experience with close combat from you, but this one is different. His eyes widen. That one hurt bad, leaving a buzzing ache on his skin. That’ll leave a bruise that won’t leave for weeks.

“Fight me,” you whisper, desperate, crazed. “Fight me.”

You demand it, but you don’t give Lyney a chance to react, attacking once again. Lyney blocks it off with his body and bites down a whimper of pain at the impact; at what sounded like the crack of bones.

“Y/N, stop—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snarl. “Bring out your weapon. Fight me. You’re the next successor, aren’t you?”

“Y/N,” Lyney says, trying to get a hold of your wrists. “Y/N, you’re crying.”

“I’m—” You inhale sharply, a sob wracking through your shoulders. “Shut up. Stop talking. You don’t know what’s happening. Fight me—just fight me. Why aren’t you fighting back?”

Lyney hates that you’re right—he doesn’t know what’s happening. He feels entirely useless. The person he looks up to, who has made him the better version of himself, and made him want to excel in everything he does for praise, is losing her mind right in front of him—he can’t even give you what you want.

“Why aren’t you fighting back? Isn’t this what you wanted?!”

“I didn’t want this!” Lyney shouts, moving swiftly to dodge the swing of your polearm. It misses him by a hair's breadth. Your fervid cries are making him lose composure. He doesn’t know what to do—doesn’t know how to make you stop.

“Pathetic,” you say, knocking him down. “This is who they’re calling the next successor? Beaten by someone who doesn’t have a Vision.”

Visions. Lyney learned that oftentimes, they dictate the fate and the potential of the orphans here. Those with Visions are sent off on more dangerous missions, drastically stretching their capabilities. And it’s true—Lyney wasn’t allowed to join Lynette on missions when she was the first to get one out of the two of them.

“You are still weak.”

“Shut up,” Lyney says, forcing bile down his throat. He doesn’t want to believe it. He wants to convince himself that you don’t mean that, but that means nothing if he thinks it, too. “Visions mean nothing.”

“To you, they don’t!”

Then, to Lyney’s horror, you swerve your entire body and strike to attack him with your everything. The bruises all over his skin sting, and his brain chants danger, danger. He panics, forcing a wave of fire to crash over and protect himself, but blue washes over his vision for a split second, and then he’s face to face with a tsunami of ice.

Ice.

Lyney blinks once, then looks down at his arm and realizes it’s been frozen over. It’s covered in ice, extinguishing the fire that’s enveloped his skin.

“What…?” he says dumbly, more confused than anything.

He turns back to you and sees you shaking uncontrollably, clutching a Cryo Vision to your chest. You’re looking at it as if it’ll bite you.

“No, no…” You look back at Lyney, eyes round. “Lyney—”

His eyes widened. “No, Y/N, I’m sorry. I attacked you—you were just defending yourself—”

“Don’t console me, you idiot! I don’t know how to—get it off—” You cry out, roughly wiping away tears that are trickling down. The frost is creeping up on your face, turning your lips to blue. “Get away from me…!”

The numbness is getting to his arm, and he’ll probably get hypothermia if he keeps on ignoring it, but he can’t bring himself to do anything when you’re wailing and terrified of your own self.

Lyney’s hands hover around you, unsure if he should touch you and risk it. “It’s okay, I promise, just—just breathe—”

You slap his hand away, crumbling even more at the sight of his frozen arm.

“Y/N,” he breathes.

Then, your face is carefully blank, shutting him off—worse than any wall of ice. Then, you snatch your polearm from the ground and scramble away. Lyney rushes to follow after, but you’ve flicked your hand, and the door is blocked off by a thick wall of ice. Great. Just great.

Desperately, Lyney melts them away, but your footsteps have already gone out of earshot. It’s an answer in itself: Don’t bother. Take the hint, Lyney; you already messed it up.

“Fuck!” Lyney hisses, throwing his bow to the ground, causing it to crack and splinter against the cold tiles.

“Calm down,” he says to himself, thawing his arm with his Pyro. The sudden change in temperature hurts, but that doesn’t compare to what he’s feeling right now. “Y/N will be back. Calm down. Patience.”

It’s pouring uncontrollably outside. You shiver, shaking with each desperate step you take to get far, far away from the orphanage—from Lyney. The rain has melted the ice that’s crawling all over your face and fingers, but you can still feel it humming under your skin as if one wrong move and you’d kill something.

How ironic. Goading Lyney into using his Vision led to you getting yours. What a fucking joke.

You navigate through the crowd, hiding your Vision and speeding through. The gods have perceived you and blessed you because you’re worthy. Why only now? Why is it that it’s only when you’ve accepted you’re not worthy compared to Lyney?

You are still weak. You said it aloud, but you know more than anyone that it was not meant for Lyney.

A door swing opens, and you nearly slam onto it, if not for you skidding to a halt a second off.

The woman with brown locks and bright eyes who opened the door blinked curiously. “Hey, kid. What are you doing out here in this thunderstorm?”

You must look like a sight. Bruised and freezing, as flighty as a frightened animal. “I—U-Uhm…”

You’re given no script to follow this time. What should you say? What do you do?

You can feel all your limbs trembling. No—you can barely feel at all. “I’m fine. Miss. I was just… playing. I mean, running back home.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, taking it upon herself to ruin her dry dress and usher you inside. “Don’t worry. Come. Seek shelter here while waiting for it to die down.”

“I’m fine,” you try to say, but the inviting warmth inside has your next words dying. “You don’t have to do this, miss… I’m…”

Dangerous. Nearly killed the person that warmed his way through your heart. You frightened him. You frighten yourself.

“None of that.” She pokes your forehead, making you blink up at her in bewilderment. “You think too hard for your age. Come, I have tea and spare clothes.”

You obediently sit. Perhaps tea will help. With how tight you’re clutching your Vision, its frost is beginning to crawl up your arms.

i found it rly interesting lyney doesn’t wanna become the next successor, so i used it for plot! >:) ty for reading!!! if u reached all the way here im giving u a kiss on ur forehead

TAGLIST.

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[thebestofoneshots]

MARAUDWEEEN

Feels Like The First Time | James Potter x reader

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Word Count: 6 k

Warnings: Smut, fingering, P in V, lots of praise, consent is sexy, lusty!James, bashful!James, he literally can't take his eyes off you.

Prompt: As a part of the Marauween Series, this fic takes you to an Alternate Universe where James Potter is a fireman, telling the story of how you met, and how your first time came about.

Maraudween is a Halloween-inspired anthology series where each chapter transports you into a distinct alternate universe. From the real world to old western Texas and even through the dark times of vampires. These standalone tales invite you into a realm of boundless potential. Experience the enchantment of Halloween as it weaves its spell, intertwining the magic of costumes, AUs, terror and spice.

NSFW (Smut under the cut) ♡

“What can I get you, sir?” You asked, not looking up from the register as you were trying to close the tab of the previous order. The machine had been acting up lately and no matter how hard you tried, it seemed to take its sweet time between closing an old order and opening the feed to start a new one. 

You were almost scowling at it when you heard a low chuckle from behind the counter, you instantly recognized it. The cute fireman, you felt your cheeks flush at the thought. 

“Everything all right, angel?” he asked, voice soft even as a little smirk played on his lips. 

“James!” you said with a smile, deciding to ignore the machine and talk to the man instead. He lived a few blocks away, in your same building, and he always passed by the shop to get some coffee and a snack before he finished his walk to work. Sometimes he came on his way back too, he was over so often, that you almost knew his orders by memory, “Americano?” 

He shook his head “I’m feeling up for something sweeter today.” 

You hummed in response, running his typical orders in your head “Late with a pump of strawberry?” 

He tilted his head, seemingly thinking about it, you couldn’t help to let your eyes linger over his uniform. He’d typically alternate between blue, yellow and grey. Today he was wearing grey and you would be lying if you said he didn’t look disarmingly attractive. He was big and well built too, but that was a lot easier to appreciate on hotter days when he wasn’t wearing his jacket on top of the usual either crisp white or neat black shirt, “Yeah, that’s perfect.” 

You smiled and started writing down the details in his cup. When you realised there was no one on the line behind him, you decided to prepare his drink yourself, instead of passing it over to Marcus, your coworker, and better barista between the two. James knew, and yet, he much better liked the drinks you prepared. 

“Want me to add a bit of whipped cream?” You asked. 

“You spoil me,” he said with a smile, you turned to give him a questioning look, a smile playing on your lips as he nodded, perhaps that’s why he liked your drinks best, they almost always came along with a smile. 

“You do spoil him,” Marcus added as he used one of the machines to draw pictures over a latte. 

You gave him a pout as an answer and continued with your preparation. Once it was done you turned around, Marcus had gone off to tend some table and you walked over to James, handing him his cup straight to his hands. His fingers lingered over yours as he took it from you and you felt your stomach flutter, “I’d add some cinnamon for spice,” you told him, he nodded and walked over to the sugar table, doing exactly as you told him.

“Hey, James?” 

“Hmm…?”

“Good luck at work today,” you added with a smile, Marcus from one of the tables almost rolled his eyes, while James’ smile only widened. 

There was a huge fire that day, you saw it on the news on the small TV in the corner of the shop, one of the old buildings near the centre of the city had caught fire. Since it had been during work hours there hadn’t been that many people inside, and thankfully no one died but about 2 dozen had ended up in the hospital due to smoke toxicity. Or so was reporting the news lady. 

“Do you think James’s all right?” you asked, turning to Marcus with a little frown. 

“Why don’t you go home and check on him? He lives almost in front of you anyway. This happened about an hour ago, he might be there soon...” 

You nodded, and hurried with the wiping of tables, still looking a bit nervous and rushed “I’ll finish up closing,” he added. 

“Thank you,” you said as you went to pick up your stuff and remove your uniform from the back room. 

Marcus called your name, you turned to him “Bring him something. His favourite treat of whatever… I’m sure you already know it by memory.” 

“I… Well, I mean…”  

“Don’t play dumb and just take it to him, whatever it might be. Would serve you well, maybe admit that you like him as well.” 

You flushed “Shut it, Marcus.” 

“He likes you back, did you know?” You gave him a look “Hey it’s true! I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” 

“He’s just polite.” 

“Polite my ass, he’s never looked at me like that. Go on, knock on his door, patch him up and admit your crush. Maybe get it going with him too. What do you think he’d look like with those snug pants and a pair of suspenders? Only a pair of suspenders.” 

You flushed a lot more this time around, the image floating to your brain unprompted, and you weren’t able to shake it off that easily. Curse your imaginative mind and Markus’ dirty one to put the idea in your head. 

“So… his favourite treat?” 

“It’s the lemon tart,” you admitted reluctantly. “He orders it whenever he’s feeling down. And also after bad days.” Markus smiled and leaned down to take two of them and place them on a small box for you to take home, “Thank you.” 

“Thank me when you’ve seen him with only pants and suspenders!” he joked, and you shook your head in disbelief, a smile still plastered on your face as you did. 

You got home after a short walk and went straight for a quick shower. It was then that you heard the thud of heavy boots in the hallway. He was walking towards his apartment. You hurried to finish and changed into simple shorts and a sweatshirt before walking the 2 door distance to his apartment. You took a deep breath and knocked on the door. 

There was no answer, you considered leaving, your nerves getting the best of you, but you remembered you still had the lemon tarts and decided to try again. This time you heard some shuffling and then the door opened, revealing James, still wearing his uniform, hair clinging onto his face from sweat and blotches of soot patching his cheeks, he looked tired, but he smiled the moment he saw who it was at the door. “Fancy seeing you here, darling.” 

You swallowed, his gaze having a powerful effect on you “I… I uh… I saw the news and well, I assumed you had been there, I guess I was right,” you added after gesturing toward your face, trying to refer to how blotchy he was “I thought I’d come to check if you were all right… I also brought you some of those lemon tarts you really like.” 

He stared at you for a second, as if trying to process the fact that you really had taken the trouble to bring him food, just because he’d had a tough day. When he realised you really were there, and not only a fragment of his imagination, he smiled “You picked my favourites,” he said pointing at the box. 

You gulped, as if scared of getting caught but nodded “You… order them often,” you said with a shrug. 

He hummed “And you know all of your client’s orders?” he asked, a flirty tone slipping as he moved to the side to let you in, nodding towards the kitchen, although you already knew where it was, since the layout of his apartment was almost an exact mirror of yours. 

“Only the ones of my favourites,” you responded, which got him to raise his eyebrows as he pulled out two plates and a pair of forks, placing them on the counter. You opened the small box and gracefully served one of the pies on each of the plates, he didn’t wait too long to dig in, moaning at the sweet and acidic flavour. 

“You’re the absolute best,” he told you as he continued to eat “Getting this after a fire might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

You just giggled at his exaggeration, you didn’t know he didn’t mean only the pie, but also your company. As the two of you finished your meal, you stood up to go back to your apartment but he stopped you, a hand gripping softly onto your forearm “Hey wait!” You turned to him “Let me pay you back.” 

You gasped and then shook your head. “Oh no, don’t worry about it, I get free treats since I work there.” But he didn’t let go of your arm just yet. 

You saw him bite his cheek, looking to the side as if trying to find the right words “Regardless, I–  Let me take you out, yeah?” 

“Out… to the door?” You asked with a frown “I mean I know where it is but–” 

“Out on a date.” 

“You want to– Me?!?” He nodded fervently in response. 

“So...?” 

You smiled, you were sure you were blushing madly but his nervousness only made him even more adorable “I’d love that.” 

He’d taken you to a small Italian restaurant that his friend Sirius had recommended, he told you about his life, about how he got into firefighting and you told him about yours, how you were working at the cafe as a side job to pay for your online studies. He thought you were a hero, which was almost ridiculous because if anyone was saving people between the two, it had been him. 

After that date you went on many others, he frequented the cafe a lot more often, sometimes to order something, sometimes to drop by a bouquet of roses or some other kind of flower. Markus had teased you relentlessly after that, but he really was happy to see you happy. He also started giving you treats to take home a lot more often, but that was because he knew you were always sharing them with James.  

“Thanks love, see you at dinner?” James asked as he took the takeaway coffee cup from your hands, you had written “Prongs,” and drew a pair of antlers on it just to tease him, since he’d told you about his friends giving him that nickname in school. 

You nodded in response “Sure, want me to bring something?” 

He leaned over the counter as if it were about to say something of the utmost secrecy “How about some of those chocolate tarts?” he whispered. 

“Sounds about perfect to me,” you agreed and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before pulling back. He smiled dumbly after that and waved on the way out, almost bumping into a tall teacher who was also your regular. 

“Watch your step, lover boy,” he told him. That day you found out Remus –the teacher who was a regular– and your boyfriend not only knew each other, but had been best friends for the longest time. He’d told you about him many, many times, but you had no way of knowing the calm, concentrated teacher who sat on his laptop grading students was the same mastermind prankster he always called Moony. 

“So… how does he look in suspenders?” Markus asked you as he eyed your boyfriend finally leaving. 

“Oh… well, I mean… I haven’t– we haven’t-“ 

“Shut it,” he said turning to you “You’ve been dating for a while now, like 2 months, right? Didn’t you tell me you slept at his apartment the other night?” 

“Yeah, I mean, I did… I fell asleep watching the telly and he didn’t want to wake me.” 

“I thought you meant something else…” he said as he shook his head “Maybe he’s asexual,” he added with a shrug “Total bummer for you.” 

You frowned “I don’t think he– I think he’s just trying to be a gentleman.” 

Markus shook his head, unconvinced “Have you tried to initiate anything?” 

“We’ve snogged a couple of times.” 

“And when it gets more heated?” 

You shrugged “Don’t know what to tell ya.” 

He hummed “You need to try harder.” 

“I need to try?” 

“Well to find out at least, don’t you want to?” 

You shrugged it off then, but truth be told, the idea had already cemented itself in your brain. You paid closer attention to the times you snogged after that. Be it on the couch, or the counter of yours or his kitchen, it was always romantic kisses and even if he certainly seemed affected, be it his ragged breath, pink lips or expanded pupils, he never pushed for more. Perhaps he really was waiting for you to initiate things. 

A few nights later, there was another fire, you had already gotten the key to his apartment so you waited over at his, bringing over some cream puffs and setting yourself on the couch while you waited. He arrived a little late, covered in soot like he had that first time you walked into his house with lemon tarts in your hand. He smiled the moment he spotted you on his sofa “Fancy seeing you here, darling,” he teased, echoing the words he’d said that first night. 

You smiled “How are you feeling?” you asked. 

He sighed, his shoulders slumped at that “We couldn’t… One of them didn’t make it.” You frowned, you knew he’d torment himself about it all night, so you walked over to him, taking a wet towel as he sat near the counter and started wiping some of the soot from his face.

“‘S not your fault.” 

“But if we had gotten there sooner maybe–“ 

You pulled his chin, making his eyes look straight into yours “Jamie,” you said sternly, trying to ground him “It’s not your fault.” 

He sighed again “I know, I know…” he said, and buried his head in your neck, smelling your perfume as he grabbed onto your hips, “Stay over tonight?” he asked “Please, I don’t– I don’t want to be left alone with my thoughts.” 

You smiled, placing your hand on the back of his head, brushing it lightly over his messy hair before settling it at the nape of his neck “Of course, my love,” you responded simply, and pulled his shoulders back to look straight at his face “come on, let’s get to the sofa, maybe we can play something on the telly to get your mind off things.” 

He pouted “I’m sweaty, and I smell of charred wood.” 

You tilted your head, a small smile drawing on your lips “I think you look sexy,” you teased, before grabbing his hand to pull him up and towards the sofa. He had a diverted look as he followed. 

They were screening Karate kid for like the 5th time that week, but both of you were watching it patiently. That was until the commercial break started and you turned to James, he had a small frown on his face, almost imperceptible, as if he were trying to hide it from you, but you knew him well enough to know. “You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?” 

James turned to you, a sorrowful look in his beautiful hazel eyes, “I found them, I tried, but…” You kneeled on the sofa and gave him a bone-crushing hug, or at least your version of one, since you had about half the strength he did anyway. Regardless, you heard the huff of a laugh coming from him. 

You gave one last look at the telly, they were still going on some infomercial about a magical razor, yeah, no way in hell he gets distracted by that. “Hey Jaimie,” he hummed in response “How about we find another way to get your mind off things?” you asked, pulling back a little so he could see your face.

He gave you a look, “Like playing Monopoly or…” he didn’t even finish his sentence since you crashed your lips against his with a kiss. He was surprised at first but followed the kiss shortly after. Tightening his grip on your waist. 

“Like this?” you said as you pulled out for air. He still had a bit of a frown, so you leaned into him again, determined to erase it with a kiss. He pretty much melted into you again, at some point you crossed your knee over his lap and you were straddling his thigh. You didn’t lean closer to him too fast, you wanted to give him some time. 

Your lips started to travel from his lips to his jaw, he was right, he was sweaty, you could feel the salty taste of it as you kissed, and there was something else too, a little bit of that smoked flavour going on. You didn’t care, if anything, it really made him feel sexier. You landed on his neck, and started pressing wet kisses on a section you knew from experience he liked, and you heard a low moan coming from his throat, music to your ears. 

“Wait… wait… hold up,” he said as he patted your shoulder softly, you didn’t pull back “Angel, please, I’m gross right now…”

“Don’t care,” you said between kisses “I like the way you taste.” 

He stifled grunted after you said that –partly because of what you said, partly because of the way you sucked onto a particularly sensitive part of his neck– it was hard enough for him to restrain himself as it was, and you saying things like that was only making it harder. 

You, without quite noticing what you were doing, started grinding against his leg, not quite against his crotch yet thought, you could still think enough to know it’d be too soon. You leaned back, trying to get to his mouth when you spotted him, he had a rather interesting expression on his face, brows furrowed, as if he was trying really hard to concentrate on something, or not to concentrate on something. 

You smiled, holding back a laugh before placing your hand on his cheek, he opened his eyes, a worried look on his face “James, what is it darling?” 

He swallowed, his breath was heavy, “I’m just… I’m trying not to– thinking of something else.” You raised an eyebrow at him, not sure exactly what was going on until you saw his gaze flicker down to his crotch. 

“Oh.” You said quietly, and then, in an outburst of bravery, pulled your hand down to pat him. He hissed, grabbing your hand and pulling it back.

“That– that’s going to make it worse.” 

You smiled again, tilting your head just a little as you stared at your beautiful boyfriend “Allow me,” you said softly “I want to make it worse.” He looked at you as if he was trying to decipher whether what you were saying was true, and you leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek “Pretty please?” 

You had your forehead against his when he bit his lip and nodded, letting your hand free as you pushed it towards his crotch again. He was a lot harder than you had initially assumed he’d be, but you started rubbing your hand up and down regardless, feeling out his entire length which was nothing short of surprising. His head had somehow ended up on your shoulder again “fuck,” he said and trailed off with a few other curse words you weren’t sure you had heard him say before “That feels incredible Angel, You feel so good,” he whispered. 

Eventually, you pulled your hand backward and he gave you the most reproachful look, “Hey… I want to be able to kiss you,” you said softly before leaning in for a kiss and finally closing the gap between your bodies. You had been wearing a pair of simple lycra shorts, so everything felt very close when you finally leaned your hips over his, grinding your core against the rough texture of his firefighter pants. 

James was about to moan when you pulled him into a kiss again, so he moaned into your mouth, half attempting to return the kiss. His hands had now travelled to your hips, and he was helping you grind onto him, gripping almost a little too tight, not that you minded. If anything, you thought seeing this less controlled side of him was the hottest thing. 

Your hands travelled to his jacket, he’d been so lost in thought when he arrived home that he hadn’t even taken it off, but that was fine, you could help him with that now. You found the plate box and started to unbutton it one by one, he had been so engrossed in you that he didn’t notice what you were doing until you moved your hands to his inside shirt to push the thick jacket to the side. 

He helped you shrug it off and you set it to the side of the couch since you knew how much he cared for it. He gave you a smile through huddled lids and this time around he was the one pulling you towards him for another kiss. 

You went to the buttons of his pants this time around, grinding on his thigh in an effort to not stop the buildup you’d already created. “Angel what are you…?” 

“Material’s too rough,” you managed to mumble. His eyebrows knit in concern and he helped you in an instant. While he did that you fumbled with your shorts and took them off as fast as possible, not sparing a second glance to see where they fell on the floor, they were pretty ruined either way. He didn’t notice you had done that, not until you went back to straddle him and he felt the wet patch of your panties on his trouser. On his cock. 

“Fuck dove,” he said when he realized. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, almost shy, thinking he might think it was gross but he shook his head.

“Don’t be, it’s fucking hot,” he said as he grabbed onto your hips again and started sliding you against him, grinding you against him. This time there was a lot more purpose behind his movements, he was quite literally rubbing you right onto his cock, you could feel it almost in between your folds through the two layers of clothing separating you from each other. 

The room started feeling too hot, and you removed your hands from the back of his head and brought them to the hem of your sweatshirt, attempting to pull it off when his hands travelled to yours. 

He pulled back from the kiss and stared at you, searching for your eyes “You don’t have to– Not because of the…” he took a deep breath, trying to think straight “We don’t have to do this just to distract me.” 

Your expression turned soft, as you looked at him. How on earth did I get so lucky? You thought. You licked your lips, biting the bottom as you brought your hands to the side of his face. “It’s not just because of that, I want to do this Jamie, I’ve been thinking about it for a while.” He swallowed. “You think that sexy little uniform does nothing to me? I’m only human James.” He chuckled, eyes averting to the side in an adorably bashful expression that you were certain only James Potter would be able to pull off. When he looked back you gave him a teasing smile “Help me?” you asked again, nodding down. 

This time it was he who bit back a grin, almost giving you a wink before he let his hands to the hem of your hoodie and helped you pull it off. He stared at you for a second. You were wearing a simple sports bra, nothing fancy, in fact, you’d dare say it was a little embarrassing since the bottom hem was frailing a bit already, but that didn’t seem to matter to James. He was staring at you as if he’d seen the hottest woman on earth. As if you had been wearing the most exquisite set of lingerie. 

You blushed, obviously, you blushed, and hid your head on his neck so he wouldn’t notice, pretending you were going for a kiss, but he stopped you. “Hold up, I wanna enjoy the view,” he complained. 

“When I’m wearing nicer underwear I’ll let you,” you said, pushing against him to go to his neck again, but he was stronger, if he didn’t want you to move, there was no way in hell you’d be able to move. 

“Darling, your underwear is the last thing I’m paying attention to,” he said honestly. You took a deep breath and allowed him to pull you back, his eyes were blown with lust as he stared at you, at your bare shoulders he’d seen a couple of times, although not many since you started going out in winter and it still was winter. At the supple curve of your hips. At your breasts, you felt his hand twitch in your shoulder, as if he was holding himself back from touching anywhere else. 

“James,” you said, getting him to turn his gaze back to your face, although you noticed it flicker down a couple of times, “You can touch.”

It was as if that had been all the permission he needed, he brought his hands down, letting them roam through your bare waist as you started to grind against him again. He was harder, if that was even possible. He groaned as you rolled your hips against his, and started trailing kisses down your neck, setting in the curve of your breasts as you continued to dry hump him. 

He could see your hardened nipples through the thin cotton fabric. He’d actually seen them harden as he kissed, and then he did something you weren’t expecting, he held your waist and pulled you up a little, you almost whined at the loss of contact, but he pushed his head forward and gave an open mouth kiss to your breast, sucking and nipping through the fabric, you were now helping him hold you up with your own legs and holding onto his strong shoulders, absolutely lost in the feeling of his mouth. 

He pulled back, giving you a mischievous look as he trailed his fingers over the frilled hem, there was almost an innocence to the way he was looking at you “May I?” he asked. 

“Please.” He was already digging his fingers under the hem and pulling it over your head. “You too,” you added, pulling at his shirt. He quickly passed his hand to the neck of his shirt and yanked it off in a second. You gulped, you’d never seen anyone take their shirt off in such a hot way. 

He was staring at you as he placed his hand on your waist and pulled you towards his face, this time licking from the underside of your breast all the way to your nipple before he closed his mouth around it and started sucking again, without the fabric in the middle you could feel his wet tongue and teeth grazing against your sensitive skin, you arched against him, and moaned his name when he bit softly. 

His other hand was already massaging your other breast, kneading it and brushing his thumb over your nipple every couple of seconds. It felt incredible, and you relished on the feeling until your neediness got the best of you, “James,” you somehow managed to form the words, and grabbed the hand that was still kneading on your breast, pulling it down, to your core “Here, please.” 

You saw him pull back to look at you, and he swallowed thickly but nodded, moving to kiss your neck as he traced his fingers over your wet panties “fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispered between kisses. You gripped onto his shoulder a little harder, when he pressed his finger onto your folds, you were already pretty sensitive from so much rubbing onto his hard uniform pants that even the slightest touch had you on fire. 

After toying with you for a bit, he slid his finger through the hem and pushed your panties to the side, digging his fingers on your folds, while his thumb searched for your clit. He found it in the blink of an eye and you were pretty much bucking your hips against his hand in search of more friction. He let out a breathy laugh “So needy,” he said before setting one of his fingers near your entrance and digging it in. 

His finger was long, much longer than yours and it reached places you wouldn’t have dreamed of, he curved it in a particular way and you let out a gasp “Yes! Please, James, do that again,” you said as you panted, he obliged, and had you grinding against his hand again in no time. 

“Angel you’re too tight,” he whispered as you leaned in to kiss him again, slowly lowering yourself onto his tight. He went in for another finger as you kissed him and swallowed your whimper. He was already moving his fingers and slowly opening them inside of you, trying to prepare you, in case you wanted to continue because hell knew he did. 

He pressed his thumb against your clit again, he could feel you faltering on him, your hip movements becoming sloppier as he continued to rub “Jamie I’m gonna…” 

He kissed your neck “Please do.” 

You leaned closer to him digging your nails into the muscles of his back as you bit your bottom lip. James separated from your neck for a second to look at you, you looked fucking stunning as you whimpered and whispered his name and a few course words almost incoherently. 

“So fucking stunning,” he told you with a smile. It took you a second to come back and be able to pay attention to him, to the way he was looking at you. 

You huffed a laugh “Shut up Jamie,” you said with a smile as you shook your head, he still had his fingers inside you, and it looked like he didn’t have the intention to remove them any time soon.

“How are we doing?” he asked. 

You frowned, “Why do you– oh.” He flicked his thumb over your clit again, thrusting his fingers in and out in a rather sharp way “James you aren’t thinking of…” 

“Of course, I’m thinking of it angel, I need to see that pretty face of pure bliss on you again.” 

You almost let him convince you but you shook your head. You didn’t miss the way his smile faltered, you leaned into him, making sure to let your clit rub onto his thumb again as you shifted your weight and your hips “Not until I see yours,” you whispered in his ear, bringing your hand down to the hem of his boxers and digging your hand to grope him. 

He groaned at your harsh movement, but his head fell back, an expression rather similar to yours as you dragged your hands through his length. 

“Help James,” you said, words cut with sharp breaths from the effort you were making to pull his boxers down. He lifted his hips and helped you do it, all the while you continued pumping him. There was already a bit of white precum coating his tip, even if the boxers had sucked up most of it, you used it to allow your hand to glide easier around him. 

“Faster,” he asked, you complied, he was already bucking his hips into your hands, “fuck doll I think I’m going to– “ You instantly stopped moving your hand and his eyes snapped open, looking at you like you had betrayed him. But you didn’t give him an explanation, you used your legs to prop forwards and lined him against your entrance “Wait, doll–“ you lowered yourself onto him, “fuck.” 

You gulped, allowing yourself to adjust before giving him a look, he was looking at his cock buried in you attentively, and he swallowed thickly, you didn’t wait too much after that, and started grinding onto him, “Fuck Jamie you fill me up so good,” you whispered, as if he needed any more encouragement. You thought he did since he wasn’t moving, but that wasn’t the reason he wasn’t. 

He grabbed onto your hips, and halted your movement “fuck, angel, hold up– I need–“You looked at him worriedly, accidentally bucking your hips again as you tried to search for his eyes, and then you felt it. Wet and sticky, inside you. He’d cum.

He looked at you with the most mortified expression on his face, as if he was sorry “I’m– I’m so sorry I…” 

You just laughed, placing your hand on his cheek to prompt him to look at you “Hey, It’s okay my love.” 

“But I didn’t… Not even like 30 seconds I–“ James was completely flustered, you weren’t sure you’d ever seen him that flustered before, you pulled him into a kiss. 

“I’m taking it as a cumm-pliment,” you told him, he gave you a reproachful look and you gave him a peck on the lips. A small smile wavered its way towards his lips. 

“That’s the– what a terrible pun,” he added. You bucked your hips against him again “fuck.” 

You raised your eyebrow at him “Keep insulting my puns and I won’t help you with your little issue,” you threatened playfully as you started to buck your hips again, helping him empty himself completely. This time a lot slower, enjoying the way he felt on you, the way he was filling you up, how much easier it was to glide onto him with his warm cum all over you, some of it dripping to the side of your thigh and onto his already, you continued until he patted on your tight. 

You nodded and pulled out slowly, setting yourself on his lap still. He still seemed awfully bashful, “Come on Jamie, I really don’t mind it.” 

“But it was– our first time and I… ugh” he placed his hands over his face, groaning as he replayed the events in his head.

You bit your tongue not to laugh. At least he wasn’t thinking of the fire anymore. Mission success? You sighed and placed your hands onto his own and pulled them down, tilting your head a little in search for his eyes.

 “How about…” you started, it seemed to gather some of his attention, although he was still looking at you with a dissatisfied expression “We go get a bath, and clean up…” you continued, he had finally lifted his head towards yours “we relax together a little,” you added, letting your fingers trace over his muscles, “we clean all the soot of that pretty face of yours,” you added, pinching his cheek which earned you a playful scowl from his part “and then chill for a while, see what happens next,” you finished, making sure your tone, raised eyebrows and half bitten bottom lip was suggestive enough. He looked at you, a diverted smile playing on his lips. “If it makes you feel better, we can pretend the shower was our first time instead,” you added just to spite him. 

He huffed, a smile on his face as he placed his hands on your waist and stood up, holding you against him with ease. You squealed and laughed at the sudden action “James!” you reprimanded “We didn’t even take your boots off, you’re gonna fall and drop me in the process,” he looked down and groaned when he realised it was true. Regardless he tried to jump his way before the two of you ended up back on the couch. You were laughing merrily as he huffed. 

“Come on hot fireman,” you told him with a smile “Take off those pretty boots of yours…” you smiled as you sneaked out of his grasp “I’ll meet you in the bathroom.” 

He pretty much groaned as he saw you leave, staring at your ass as you disappeared through the door. 

A/N: this one came out so much sweeter than I expected it to, but I kind of love it. It really captures that James Potter humour, doesn't it? Maraudween and The Five Senses are the anthology series where I explore writing smut, all as a way to hone my skills for the moment I write it in my Wolfstar x Reader series that's currently being posted on a weekly basis. If you have feedback, please leave it in the comments below. I absolutely love reading your comments &lt;3

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[sapphicantics]

Two Sides of the Same Coin | Chapter One

Pairing: Regina George x fem!reader

Summary: After a nobody destroys the Jocks and insults the Queen Bee without a care or an apology, you get catapulted to the top of the social food chain next to aforementioned Queen Bee, Regina George, who now has to learn to share the spotlight with North Shore’s new bad girl. | Or alternatively, your ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude sucks you and Regina into each other’s worlds sending you down a path you never expected.

Chapter word count: 1.7k

Contents: vaping, underage drinking, mentions of weed, threats of violence, mentions of broken bones, shitty comebacks - I think that’s it, lemme know if I missed any

Note: Alright, I’m finally here with the first official chapter of Same Coin. Now I don’t know how often updates are gonna be for this fic but they will be coming, I’ve got so many ideas for it.

Intro - Chapter 2

— — — —

Menace is a bit of a crazy term to use to describe someone who sticks up for themself, but this is high school and everyone loves to exaggerate, especially boys with fragile egos who can’t stand the school knowing they got their asses kicked by a girl.

And when the girl is you — a girl who keeps to herself and minds her own fucking business like people should do any-fucking-way — oh, there’s bound to be countless descriptors thrown onto you to help rebuild their fragile masculinity.

Volatile, temperamental, crazy, psycho just to name a few.

You’re not sure how those are supposed to rebuild their masculinity, especially when you can just kick their asses and knock it right back down again. Despite those seemingly negative connotations that come with your new title, it does, admittedly, have a rather nice ring to it.

Anyways, nice ring or not, negative connotations or not, title or not, you’ve got far more important things to focus on instead.

Like why the fuck Charlie Hudson is in front of you right now.

It’s lunch and you’re under the bleachers with a strawberry flavored vape pen in hand. You take a hit and blow a cloud of smoke past your lips, raising a brow at him.

He doesn’t speak for a while probably assuming you’ll do so first, but you just take more hits from your vape and continue to stare at him. He approached you, he came over here to you, he’s interrupting your time so he must want something from you and he either tells you on his own or he doesn’t tell you at all. It makes no difference to you, but you’re definitely not gonna ask what he wants.

It’s only when you check your watch does he remember he’s on a time crunch and finally opens his mouth to speak. “I’m having a party tonight. I was thinking you could swing by for a bit.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Well, it’s gonna be a whole thing, you know?” No you don’t know, and that really doesn’t answer the question on why he’s inviting you or why he thinks you’d even want to go, but thankfully he continues. “Real big, real fun, real cool…” he reaches into his pocket, pulling his hand out and passing some cash over to you. “…really need someone to bring the Mary Jane.”

You tilt your head at him, looking between him and the cash before sliding your vape into your jacket pocket. You pluck the cash from his hands and flick through the stack. There’s a couple thousand dollars here — broken up into smaller bills because why not — a little over a thousand by your count, sixteen hundred to be exact, which is far more than you usually charge to supply a party, but if the rich boy wants to give you all his money then you’re not gonna stop him.

Perhaps, this might make you a thief to some, but really, what’s one more negative connotation added to your name?

You slip the cash in your pocket and nod. “I’ll be there at ten.”

He flashes you a smile as you walk past him and brush your shoulder against his. There’s no force behind it — okay there’s a little force behind it, not a lot though — but still he flinches at the pressure and you don’t miss the way he reaches up to rub at his shoulder out of your peripherals.

That reminds you that you need to make a few things clear. Well, one thing, specifically.

“Oh, and Charles?” He hates that name, thinks it makes him seem like an old man and what better way to ensure he knows you’re serious than calling him by his government. He seems to understand this as his eyes snap to yours and he tenses. “If North Shore wants a chance at making it to state this year, it’d be in your best interest to ensure your brother is on his best behavior tonight. Unless, of course, Lucas wants more broken bones. You got me?”

The bell rings behind you then, a seemingly ominous warning to the boy whose face is now alight with fear. You don’t bother waiting on a response, you know he’ll obey your wishes. You smirk and turn on your heels, disappearing into the school.

— — — —

You show up at 9:45.

Fifteen minutes before the agreed upon time, a rather gracious compromise in your opinion.

One you’re already starting to regret as you walk into the house.

The music is blasting so loud you can barely hear yourself think. The house stinks of sweat from the hundreds of people crowded around each other, dancing, singing, laughing, and making out.

Everyone is drunk — some way more wasted than others — but somehow they all seem to sense your presence and part for you like the Red Sea. Some of them even turn their heads to see if it’s really you before quickly looking away and whispering to their friends.

You roll your eyes at that and Charlie takes this moment to finally make his appearance, trudging his way out of the kitchen. He makes a detour once he spots you and after a quick greeting, he leads you out to the backyard. “You got the stuff?”

“What a stupid question,” you scoff. “You think I’d take your money and then show up to this party empty handed with this duffle just for fun?”

You shrug the bag off and place it on the ground between the two of you, unzipping it as you do so. Inside is a bunch of pre-rolled joints and plenty of bags of weed for those who prefer to use a bong. There’s some rolling papers in there so people can roll their own joints, but you’re pretty sure if anyone does rolls their own joints tonight they are not using the weed you bought — because they don’t trust you so they won’t trust the weed you bought, and also no one goes to a party without their own weed. On the off chance that they do use yours, however, the necessary supplies are there.

Charlie whistles at the haul, eyes wide, clearly not having expected this much from you, but that’s not really surprising.

“Damn, I knew you were a pothead but that’s pathetic even for you.”

It is surprising, however, that Charlie took time out of his day to summon an actual demon from hell to this party.

You say this out loud. On purpose. Because it’s your mouth and you’ll say whatever you want.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

You turn your head to see none other than the devil herself, Regina George, glaring at you.

“You fucking heard me, Regina. You’re a demon and you should go crawl back into whatever fiery pit of hell you came out of.”

“Yikes, someone’s feeling dramatic today. But if I left, who would teach you how to dress?”

You chuckle and shove your hands into your pants pockets. “Rather presumptuous of you to assume I would want fashion advice from someone who looks like a copy and paste Barbie doll.”

“Oh, sweetie, it’s adorable that you think your opinion matters-,”

You hold your hand up to stop any further comments and start talking over Regina, effectively cutting her off and shutting her up. “I’m so glad you said that because your opinion does not matter at all, not to me especially when I didn’t even ask, and acting like it does is only going to do you a disservice so I’m gonna go ahead and let you know - I don’t care and you can keep the rest of your shitty opinions to yourself.”

Regina scowls and steps into your personal space, pointing her finger at you, inches away from jabbing into your skin. She’s towering over you slightly and now that she’s so close, you have to tilt your head up to hold eye contact with her. “Listen here you little bitch-,”

For the second time in less than a minute, you cut Regina off, smirking at the little vein that bulges on her forehead. “No, I don’t think I will, actually.”

Regina is about to blow. You can see it in her eyes, in the way her shoulders are so tense, and if you can see it so can anyone else in the vicinity. You lean closer, lowering your voice to a whisper so only she can hear. “Be honest, are you just mad this shirt got to come out of the closet, and you didn’t?”

Regina’s hands are fast.

SMACK!

But so are yours.

You catch her wrist in your hand before her open palm can collide with your cheek, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the backyard. A hush falls around those outside and you feel dozens of eyes lock on the two of you.

Regina tries to pull her hand away and you tighten your grip in response - not enough to leave marks or to cause pain, just enough so she’s forced to stay where she is.

She glares at you, her eyes alight with fury and jaw tense. The air crackles with the intensity of her anger, and you can feel the heat of her rage radiating towards you. But there’s no backing down now.

“Enough, Regina!” you snap, your voice firm and unyielding. “This isn’t the time or place for this!”

Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, it seems like she might explode again. But you hold your ground, your own anger flaring to match hers.

“We’re not doing this,” you continue, your tone brooking no argument. “Not here, not now.”

She looks ready to argue, but you cut her off, stepping forward with a fierce determination. “Back off, Regina. We’ll settle this later.”

The tension hangs thick in the air, but she finally takes a step back and you release her, her jaw still clenched. Without waiting for her to respond, you turn on your heel and stride away, your heart pounding with the adrenaline of the confrontation.

You venture inside and slip into the kitchen, grabbing a beer. You down it in one go and grab another one for the road before leaving out the front door.

It’s gonna be a hell of a day tomorrow.

[slut4thebroken]

All Work, No Play: hour one

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jackson Rippner x reader

Summary | You meet Jackson at the bar in the hotel you’re staying at and decide to be brave and try something new; a one night stand. But it doesn’t go the way you think.

Warnings | NON CON 18+, sexual content, fingering, vaginal sex, dubious consent, threats of anal rape, degradation, humiliation, misogyny (like so much lol), choking, hickeys, cunniligus, crying, edging, stalking, voyerism, breeding, unprotected sex, emotional manipulation, putting misogyny again lol, objectification, face down ass up🤭, dehumanization, threats of murder and torture, I think that’s everything skdjdk.

Words | 6.5 k

Notes | READ THE WARNINGS. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CHOOSE TO VIEW. The last thing I wrote that was this intense was maybe the beginning chapters of exposure therapy or the dark!jason series💀

Ao3 link | <3

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This is the last warning, if you keep reading and find something you don’t like, that’s on you. I have it clearly written what’s in this fic, if you choose to ignore it, don’t be a bitch about it and comment hate or report it ❤️

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“Can I sit?” Your head snapped up, finding a man standing behind the empty seat next to you. 

“Yeah. Go ahead.” You said awkwardly, clearing your throat and putting your attention on your drink as he sat down. 

“I'm sorry, I'm not usually this forward, but I was wondering if I can buy you a drink?” Your eyes widened and you turned to face him, not expecting that question at all. 

“Um- sure. Thanks.” You gave him a small smile, feeling your cheeks heat up when he returned it. He called the bartender over to order his drink, then looked at you expectantly. You ordered, then finished off the rest of the drink you already had— two shouldn’t be too bad. 

“I’m Jackson.” He said, holding his hand out for you to shake. You told him your name in return and he muttered it to himself, testing it out. 

“What brings you here?” You asked, turning toward him to give your full attention. 

“Work. You?” 

“Work.”

“I have to say though, this trip is turning out to be much better than the others.” He gave you a small smile and you tried not to get too overwhelmed with the butterflies in your stomach as you stared at him, wondering almost anxiously about where this was going. 

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” 

“This time a beautiful girl let me buy her a drink.” You averted your gaze as your face heated up, not used to such sudden compliments like that. 

“I guess I could say the same then.” 

“I don’t believe that.” He scoffed playfully. “You must have men practically lining up to buy you drinks.” 

“Nope… Just you.” You said, embarrassed. Thankfully, the bartender placed your drinks in front of you, giving you a break from his attention. “So how long are you staying here?” You asked, changing the subject. 

“I should only be here one more night. Maybe two depending on how tough the job is.” He shrugged. 

“Oh okay. I’m flying back over the weekend so I’m here for a few more days.” 

“Do you have any personal time or is it all work and no play?” The way he said it made it sound like an innuendo… but you weren't completely certain if it actually was. 

“Well I have enough to sit at a bar and talk to a stranger.” You smiled behind your glass as you took another sip. 

“I see… And what about going someplace quieter with a stranger? Do you have time for that?” He said lowly, making arousal pool in your stomach as his eyes darkened slightly. 

“I think I could spare a bit. It depends on what this stranger wants to do.” 

“I’m not sure it would be appropriate to say in the middle of a hotel bar.” You eyed him curiously, deciding what to do. You’re not a one night stand type of girl, but he’s hot and you’re a little pent up. 

“Then I guess we should go somewhere you can tell me.” His lips curled into a smirk and he immediately reached in his pocket to pull out his wallet and place some cash on the bar for your mostly untouched drinks. 

He stood and held a hand out for you to take as you got to your feet, letting him lead you over to the elevator. On the ride up, you tried not to let your nerves consume you, but you weren’t doing a very good job of that. The doors opened and he led you to his room, using the key card to open the door, then holding it open for you to walk in first. You looked around the room, finding no luggage and the bed perfectly made as if it hadn’t been slept in yet. 

“How long have you been here for?” You turned to face him as he placed his key card on the dresser and you waited somewhat impatiently for his answer. 

“A few hours. I mostly just have to work tonight.” 

“Oh… Do you need me to go then?” You asked, not understanding why he would invite you here if he had to work.  

“Of course not. How would I get any work done if you left?” Your brows furrowed as you replayed his words in your head, still not understanding. 

“Um… I— What?” You laughed awkwardly.

“I'm gonna be honest, I thought I’d have to try a lot harder to get you to my room.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” You asked, but he ignored you. 

“I mean, I know you pretty well by now and I didn’t think you were the type to do one night stands.” You stared at him in confusion, but your stomach was twisting with a sense of complete and utter dread that something bad was about to happen to you. 

“I’m a little tired actually, I think I’m just going to go to my room.” You said, tentatively walking forward, but he remained between you and the door, blocking you. 

“But the night’s just getting started.” 

“Jackson, please move.” You said quietly, gaze shifting between his face and the door. He took a step closer, making you stagger back as he approached. 

“Now that we’re somewhere quieter, I guess I should tell you what I want to do. Or… not what I want, but what I’m going to do.” You were quickly nearing the wall behind you as he kept moving closer. When your back hit it and a small gasp escaped you, he placed both hands on the wall on either side of your head, trapping you. 

“I need something from you. Depending on your attitude, I’ll either take it, or you’ll give it to me willingly. One of those options will be significantly more painful for you and fun for me.”

“Please let me go.” You whispered, not able to maintain eye contact. He didn’t say anything for a moment, then suddenly grabbed your cheeks to turn you toward him, making your eyes snap back to his. 

“Beg if you want, but you’re not leaving here any time soon. Not until I get what I want.” He said lowly, words sounding like they once again had a different meaning. 

“What do you want?”  

“Two things. We’ll start with the fun one first.” The hand on the wall dropped down and he snaked it back up your thigh, under your dress. “Which pair did you wear, hm? I hope it’s that red set. The black one’s cute too though.” 

“What?” You said through a breath, staring at him with wide eyes. 

“Don’t play dumb, you know what I’m talking about. The lacy one that you seem to love so much. You take so many pictures of you wearing it and I know you don’t have a boyfriend so who are you sending those to?” He said teasingly. 

“How do you know that?” You whispered, heart pounding in your chest. 

“Same way I know that you like to walk around your apartment naked.” Your stomach twisted at the smirk on his face. 

“I- I don’t understand…” He shushed you before you could finish. Not that you could formulate a response anyway. 

“You don’t need to worry your pretty little head about it. For now, let’s do what we came up here for, yeah?” He wasn’t asking you, he was letting you know what was happening, but you weren’t about to go down without a fight. 

“You’re fucking psychotic if you think I’m doing shit with you.” You spat, pushing his hand away when it started moving toward your underwear. 

“Baby… don’t be like that.” He cooed mockingly. “I know how pent up you are so stop being a stubborn bitch and just enjoy it.” He warned, tone significantly harsher than before. 

“Fuck you.” His hand suddenly moved from your face to your neck, squeezing tight enough to make you raise your hands to claw at his arm. You thrashed around in his grip, prompting him to place his leg between your thighs and push his body against yours, mostly immobilizing you. 

“Keep this up and I’ll torture you to get what I need, then kill you and fuck you— in that order.” You let out a strangled whimper and squeezed your eyes shut. “Do you understand?” You did your best to nod with his grip on your neck. 

“Yes.” You managed to force out through a wheeze. 

“Good.” His grip loosened significantly and you took in a huge breath, chest heaving to get the much needed oxygen. “Where do you want it? Against the wall? …On the bed?” He asked coyly. Your bottom lip trembled as you stared at him, desperately waiting for him to just say that this was all a joke and he didn’t mean any of it. But he never did. “Bed it is.” He answered for you. 

Using his grip on your neck, he pulled you from the wall and pushed you back toward the bed before practically shoving you onto it. He stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at you on your back, propped up by your elbows to look up at him. 

“Strip.” He demanded, eyes focused only on you. Hesitantly leaning up into a sitting position, you started with your heels, unbuckling the strap then dropping them to the floor— only debating for a moment if you should throw them at him or try something else, but you didn’t want to take any chances. Moving on to your dress, you pulled the zipper down until it loosened and took a deep breath before moving the straps so that the dress fell to around your hips. You lifted your lower half off the bed a little to slide it the rest of the way off, then waited. 

“Please don’t play dumb, it’s not a good look on you. You know what I want.” He said, all but rolling his eyes. Letting out a shaky breath, you reached behind yourself to unclasp your bra, discarding it to the growing pile on the floor. Your underwear was next, slowly sliding them off and keeping your legs together before covering yourself with your hands. 

“Fuck they’re even better up close.” He groaned, taking off his suit jacket. “Do you know how many times I jerked off just watching you walk around naked? You should really learn to close your blinds, you know. Sure people from the street can’t see you, but I could see you perfectly from the roof on the building across from yours.”

“Why are you doing this?” You whimpered, watching as he unbuckled his belt before taking it off. 

“People pay me to.” He said with a  shrug, making you scoff. 

“People are paying you to rape me?” 

“Of course not. That’s just a bonus.” 

“You’re sick.” You hissed. 

“Maybe. But what does that make you?” A smirk was making its way on his lips. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“I can see how wet you are.” He said plainly, gaze dropping to your legs. 

“You’re fucking delusional.” You spat. 

“Am I?” He walked over to pick up your discarded— damp— underwear, holding them up for you to see, making your face burn. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ve been told I’m conventionally attractive and I know you’re into this, even if you won’t admit it.” 

“Into what? Being raped?” You scoffed. 

“Not to that extreme. You want to be forced— dominated against your will. You want me to take what I want from you and trust me, I have every intention of doing that.” 

“Look I don’t know who you think you are but you can’t just,” He was on you in a second, roughly shoving you so you were laying down, then holding you there with a hand wrapped tight around your throat. 

“I can’t what?” His voice was low and menacing, a warning. “Hm?” He raised his brows and you clenched your jaw, trying not to panic as your head was starting to feel light again. “That’s what I thought. If you’re done with your tantrum, let’s get started.” You glared at him, teeth grinding together painfully. Despite everything, the fact that you just gave in so easily was what made you feel the worst. You barely put up a fight… and you know why. Because he’s right. You came up here with him because you thought he was attractive and wanted to fuck him. It’s not like you can just turn off that attraction. 

“Please let me go.” You whispered, eyes brimming with tears of humiliation. 

“No.” 

“Then just fucking get it over with already! Do you want help? Is that it?” You reached for his pants and started working on the button, but he released your neck to pull your hands away, holding them in one hand above your head. When you swallowed thickly and turned away from him, he grabbed your neck again, but didn’t squeeze as hard as before. 

“I watched you for weeks. I’m not about to rush things now.” Your eyes fluttered shut and you willed the tears away. You let out a stifled sob, biting your bottom lip when it started trembling again. His mouth was on yours suddenly, pressing a rough kiss to your lips as you tried to flinch away from him. His hand snaked down from your neck to grope your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers in a way that was bordering on painful. 

He trailed kisses over your jaw, down to your neck, then sucked the skin into his mouth, only releasing you when he was satisfied with the darkness of the bruise. Moving to a new place, he did the same thing, leaving hickeys all over your neck and down your chest before sucking your nipple into his mouth. You tried to stifle the gasp, but he heard it anyway. Once he deemed your nipple hard enough, he moved to the other one to give it the same treatment. His hands were pawing at your body, groping your breast and gripping your side to hold you still as you squirmed. He pulled up, looking at you through his lashes with slightly parted lips as he panted. 

“Ready for the fun part?” He smirked and you thought that meant he was going to fuck you, but he kissed down your stomach until he made his way to your legs, settling between them. He pried them apart even more and eyed your sex eagerly, making your cheeks heat up. 

“What are you doing?” You choked out and he tore his eyes away from your cunt to look at you. 

“You thought I’d watch you play with this pretty pussy for so long and not enjoy it?” He scoffed. Before you could protest, he was leaning down and licking a long stripe up your slit. Biting your lip, you swallowed down the moans threatening to escape. He focused mostly on your hole, lapping up your arousal and fucking you with his tongue, all while groaning against you. 

Moving up, he sucked your clit into his mouth and swiftly pushed a finger inside, making you jolt. Your lip was aching because of how hard you were biting it but you couldn’t risk letting out any moans. 

“Please,” You whimpered, trying to push yourself up the bed. In retaliation he inserted another finger, then wrapped his other arm around your thigh, pulling you down onto his hand. “Please stop.” You cried. If anything, your begging made him work harder. 

“Why? Getting close?” He smirked, barely pulling away from your clit to speak. You shook your head with a whimper as the tears finally started to fall. The thing is though… you were getting close. It’s been so long since you’ve been with another person, let alone someone this talented. 

“Stop...” You whined, bringing your hands down to push at his head. 

“God- I can fucking feel you clenching down on my fingers. You are close aren’t you?” He looked up at you through his lashes with a glint in his eyes. 

“We can’t have that though.” He said, removing his fingers and pulling away from your clit. “Not yet.” 

“Why are you doing this?” You whispered, staring at his figure that was blurry with unshed tears. 

“It’s nothing against you. The job leaves little time for.. personal activities… I saw an opportunity so I took it.” He all but shrugged. Instead of giving you a chance to respond, he pushed his fingers back in and sucked your clit into his mouth again. As his fingers curled against your walls in places that previous partners— and yourself— haven’t even discovered, you couldn’t hold back the sounds anymore. 

“There you go.” He cooed. “Just give in and I’ll make you feel so good.” He mumbled against your clit before flicking his tongue against it. 

“Stop.” You whined. In response, all he did was force another finger inside. You don’t know how he knew, but the second you neared the edge again, he pulled back, making you whine. 

“Feels good doesn’t it?” He asked, slowly curling his fingers against your walls, but keeping his mouth away from your clit. “No boyfriend, no one night stands… Just you and your vibrator.” He chuckled, making your face heat up. “You really like that thing. It’s cute.” 

“Fuck you.” There wasn't even a hint of malice in your tone. Just pure embarrassment and need. 

“Yeah I bet you want that too. Don’t worry, there’s no fucking way I’m leaving here before getting my cock in this tight little cunt.” You let out a choked sob and turned your head to the side as your hips started moving against his hand. “I could feel you clench down on my fingers… dirty girl.” He clicked his tongue in mock disapproval, then leaned down to suck your clit into his mouth again. 

As you squirmed under him, you gripped the sheets hard enough to make your fingers hurt so that you wouldn’t move your hands to his hair— knowing you would try to pull him closer rather than push him away. He continued the assault on your cunt, his mouth and fingers creating utterly vulgar sounds that completely filled the room, adding to your humiliation. 

He slowed to a stop again and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from protesting. Once he knew your orgasm had faded, he slowly curled his fingers against your walls as his other hand reached down to pull out his phone. He eyed it, then set it on the bed next to your thigh. 

“If you give me what I want, I can speed all this up and give you what you want.” 

“You’ll let me go?” That made him chuckle. 

“That’s not what you really want.” The worst part is that it wasn’t… You wanted your orgasm that he’s been teasing you with for the past few minutes. 

“You still haven’t told me what you want.” You said, changing the subject. 

“Right to business then. Alright.” He removed his fingers suddenly and your hips flinched forward, chasing the pleasure. “I need to know the code to disarm the alarm at your work.” 

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t have access to that.” You said nervously, making him sigh. 

“Please don’t waste my time. Tell me and I’ll make you come. If you don’t tell me, I’ll have to resort to more… unconventional methods.” You tried not to scoff at that— how is this not already unconventional? 

“What are you going to do with it?” 

“I’m not going to do anything. All I have to do is to get you to talk, by any means necessary, and I’m very dedicated to my job. That’s why I stalked you for a couple weeks— to get to know you.” Your breath caught in your throat at the admission. How did you not notice that you were being stalked for weeks? “Unfortunately your family isn’t in the picture and you don’t really have friends— you definitely don’t have a boyfriend. All of that really limited my options. Luckily I like a challenge.” He smirked and you waited anxiously for where he was going with this. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve tortured people before. But after watching you for so long, I knew I needed to do something special. You deserve so much more than just water boarding or a beating.”

“You’re fucking sick.” You whispered, trying not to cry at the fact that this was not his worst.

“I could’ve threatened to rape you instead— obviously I still would’ve done it after I got what I wanted— but I had a feeling you’d respond better to this. So, you give me what I want and I’ll make you come, it’s as simple as that.” 

“Fuck you.” You spat, making him chuckle and check the clock on the nightstand for the time. 

“I’m trying to be nice, sweetheart, but if you don’t give me what I want… I will hurt you.” He condescended. “And not in a normal way— no, that would be a missed opportunity.” He leaned over you until his breath fanned your lips. “You don’t give me what I want, and I fuck your ass instead. No lube, no prep, just my fat cock splitting you open until you beg for mercy.” He said lowly. You tried not to show any outward signs of fear, but judging by the look on his face, you knew you were unsuccessful. “And I won’t give it to you. I’ll keep fucking you until you eventually pass out from the pain, but even then I still won’t stop. You’ll tell me everything I want to know and more, just to have the slightest chance of me stopping.” Your body trembled as you stared up at him, watching his gaze move all over your face as he studied you. 

“Now,” He whispered, “are you going to give me what I want or am I going to have to hurt you?” Your brows furrowed as you thought, trying not to cry. Maybe he’s bluffing? “Is this really worth getting raped in the ass over?” He asked, tilting his head slightly. When you remained silent, paralyzed in fear, he hummed and pursed his lips, then leaned back up. He flipped you onto your stomach and when you heard the zipper on his pants go down, you started thrashing. He placed a firm hand on your upper back to hold you down as he freed his cock. 

“Wait!” You yelled, when you felt his length brush your ass. “Wait— please, I- I’ll tell you, just please don’t.” You cried, anxiously awaiting his next move. “Please— I’m sorry, Jackson. I’ll tell you.” You rushed out, breathing growing more labored as panic and fear consumed you. 

“If you lie, I’ll know, and I’ll do it anyway.” 

“I- I won’t, I promise.” You whimpered as he picked up the phone, then a moment later, held it to his ear. 

“Yeah.. Are you ready for it?” You listened anxiously. “Go ahead.” He said, talking to you now. You told him and he repeated it back into the phone. “Good. Alright, let me know.” He tossed the phone back onto the bed. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You were starting to relax now that the threat wasn’t there anymore, but calming down made you feel all of the other emotions at the same time— anger for being stupid enough to fall for his charm, shame for enjoying the way he was pleasuring you, guilt for betraying your work so easily, and worst of all, desperation. You were desperate for more, and both of you knew that. 

You let out a choked sob and he removed his hand from your back but you didn’t move, you just buried your face into the sheets and cried. 

“You’re a crier?” He said, almost disgusted. “Those are the worst people to work with— actually I shouldn’t say people. It’s the women who cry, and usually before I even get to the fun part. The men that do cry at least wait until after they’ve been tortured for a while.” You couldn’t respond, not when you were focusing so hard on trying to take in oxygen through sporadic breaths with your face in the sheets. You were just glad he wasn’t pushing on your lungs anymore. 

“God- will you quit it already?” He snapped, making you flinch. He suddenly leaned over you, his cock laying heavy on your ass. He brushed your hair back to see your face, then roughly grabbed a fistful to turn your head enough to make eye contact. “As long as you didn’t lie, you have nothing to worry about… So what’s the problem?” You knew he wasn’t genuinely asking.  

“I- I,” You couldn’t hold down the sob crawling up your throat. “Please don’t. Please— I gave you what you want.” You whimpered, making him raise his brows, as if to say, really?

“Have you ever been raped before?” He suddenly asked, making you let out another quiet sob. 

“No…”   

“You’ll live.” He shrugged, as if that made it better. “Sure you’ll think about this every day for the rest of your life and you’ll hate yourself for craving it again, but you’ll survive.” You let out a stifled whimper and squeezed your eyes shut. “You won’t even hate me more than you’ll hate yourself, you know why? Cause all I did was give you what you want. You’re the sick fuck who actually enjoyed being raped.” 

“Please stop.” You whimpered, wincing when he tightened his grip on your hair. 

“I bet you really do want me to rape your ass. Are you just being coy, baby?” He cooed and you violently shook your head to disagree. “Let me ask again.” He reached down and shoved two fingers in your cunt. “Do you want me to rape your ass?” He repeated, barking out a laugh when you sobbed harder, but clenched down on his fingers. “God you’re fucking disgusting. No wonder you don’t have a boyfriend. I mean, who would want to date a girl who practically belongs in a brothel for fucks sake?” He started moving his fingers inside you, making you choke on a moan. 

“Actually— not even that. You’re not worth any amount of money. You belong on the streets, just a free use whore for anyone who needs a warm hole to fuck, isn’t that right?”

“Fuck you.” You muttered weakly. 

“Did I strike a nerve?” He cooed mockingly, curling his fingers inside you just a little bit faster. “Surely with a body like this you must be used to people objectifying you by now.” You weren’t. At least not to your face. 

“How’d you even get your job, huh? You fuck your boss?” You bit the inside of your cheek to try and ground yourself, not let your emotions consume you. “Did this run through little cunt get you a promotion? Even if it didn’t, I’m sure the only reason you were hired was so that your coworkers could have a pretty little thing to look at everyday.” He snickered. Even though you knew that everything he was saying wasn’t true, tears were still brimming in your eyes from his words. 

“Sluts like you are the worst kind. No one likes it when you play hard to get, that defeats the whole purpose of being a whore.” He removed his fingers from your cunt, making you hiss at the sudden loss. When he leaned back up and picked up his phone, you didn’t turn to face him, you just remained still. 

“Lucky girl. Thank you for your cooperation.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Now that business is done, I’d say we’re long overdue for some pleasure, wouldn’t you? Get up on your knees.” He moved off of you to let you rise up, but quickly stopped you. “Did I say on your hands? You don’t deserve to be fucked with dignity.” He roughly shoved your head forward until you landed against the mattress with a grunt. “You deserve to be fucked like the whore you are. Now stick that ass up, you don’t want me to tell you again.” You adjusted your position on your knees and felt the bed shift as he moved behind you. 

“Jackson, please.” You whimpered, turning your head to the side so he could hear you. You didn’t even know what you were begging for anymore. He ignored you and lined himself up with your entrance, rubbing the thick head through your folds, spreading your arousal. 

“You better hope your whore pussy isn’t too loose because if you can’t make me feel good, I’ll have to use a different hole.” As if to emphasize his point, he placed the tip of his cock against your asshole, making you stiffen. He quickly went back down to your cunt, then applied some pressure. When your walls finally gave in to the intrusion, you cried out at the stretch and tried to move away, making him grab your hips to hold you still. 

“Ah, ah, ah— keep that fucking back arched.” He placed a hand on you and pushed down until your lower back was bent uncomfortably. “That’s it. Good little slut… Ready for more?” Before you could answer, his hips were snapping forward until he was flush with your ass, making you all but scream at the sudden force. Because of his hand holding you down, you couldn’t move away and the pressure of his hips against your ass was bending your back almost painfully. 

“Huh… Tighter than I thought it’d be.” He said, almost to himself. And you had to keep from saying ‘no fucking shit’ because of the way he was stretching your walls to their limit. He started up a slow, but hard pace, dragging out, then snapping back in. Each thrust made you scream and he moved his hand from your hip to push your face into the sheets. 

“Jesus- shut the fuck up already. You may want everyone in this damn hotel to know that you’re being fucked stupid right now, but I don’t. My line of work requires discretion.” Your moans quieted a bit and he let go of your head and leaned back up. 

“And just so we’re on the same page, sweetheart, if you attract any attention and someone comes to the room, I’ll kill them and then you. I don’t need you alive for this part so you better do everything you can to convince me not to break your fucking neck.” He growled and you let out a muffled sob. His thrusts sped up, and you bit down on your lip hard enough to draw blood so that you’d stay quiet. 

“God- you fucking love this shit, don’t you? I might even have to keep you as a full time fuck toy.” You whimpered at the horrible thought, even though it made your clit throb. “Yeah I bet you’d like that too. Wouldn’t have to worry about anything else but pleasing me— no job, no social life, I’d take the burden completely off your shoulders and let you live the way you were meant to; as a worthless little fleshlight, desperate for cock anywhere you can get it.” 

You’ve never been talked to like this before. Sure, past partners have indulged in some of your kinks, but never to this extent, and never this well. You could feel your mind slipping away from you too. The longer he fucked you, the harder it was to remember why you didn’t want him to.  

“Are you on birth control?” He suddenly asked. You were confused about why he would care about being safe now, when you’re already in the middle of the act. 

“No…?”

“Of course you’re not. God it’s like you’re fucking begging to be knocked up.” You suddenly realized how this night was going to end and it was like a bucket of ice water was poured on your head. 

“W-wait,” You started lifting yourself into your elbows, but he placed a hand on the back of your neck and forced you down, keeping you there as he shushed you. 

“There's no need to panic. It’s your own fault for not protecting yourself.” You let out a choked sob and he pushed you down harder into the bed to muffle your sounds. “And anyway, this is what you were made for so how about you just stop fucking whining and be a good little breeding bitch.” You were crying again now, almost hyperventilating into the sheets, but he didn’t let up, he just held you down harder and fucked you faster. 

“I can’t say I necessarily want kids myself but maybe every nine months I’ll auction you off to the highest bidder— let you really fulfill your life’s purpose.” You couldn’t tell if this was a meaningless threat or not. “I’ll still whore you out during the nine months though, don’t worry. I’m not completely cruel.” He snickered. His thrusts were growing more erratic now and his breathing was getting more and more labored. 

“Don’t you like that idea, baby? I’ll strap you down to a breeding bench and let all of those disgusting men that you pretend you’re above have a turn with whichever hole they want. You’ll be so fucking covered in come by the end of it that you won’t even recognize yourself.” He roughly grabbed your hair and pulled your head back uncomfortably, making you cry out. “I’d still have my fun with you though, don’t worry. No matter how many cocks you take in those pathetic little fuck holes, you’ll still be mine.” The softness of his tone was a harsh contrast to his words, making your head spin. The speed in which he pulled out and flipped you over made your head spin even more though. He leaned back over you and grabbed your cheeks with one hand while the other positioned his cock at your entrance again, pushing back in. 

“Tell me you’re mine.” He said quietly and your brows furrowed as you looked away. “Tell me, baby. Tell me this whore body is mine to use however I want.” You whined loudly and he gripped your face tighter. 

“I’m yours.” You whispered, bottom lip trembling. He jerked his hand back and slapped you across the cheek before placing it on your neck and squeezing hard. You looked away from him as a scared whimper escaped you. 

“What was that?” 

“I’m yours! I- I’m yours…” You sobbed out. His lips curled up into a satisfied smirk. 

“Tell me you’re only good for being my cocksleeve.” 

“I- I’m only good for being your cocksleeve.” You whimpered. 

“Tell me you’re my breeding bitch whose only purpose is to make babies and take cock.” He growled, grip tightening on your neck. You whined and squeezed your eyes shut, then shook your head. “You know it’s true so fucking tell me.” He warned, pushing down on your windpipe until you gasped for air. 

“I’m your breeding- bitch whose only purpose is…” You were actually struggling to breathe now, barely able to get the words out, but he didn’t seem to care, “to make babies and take cock.” You wheezed, making him loosen his grip. You gasped in a breath as your chest heaved. 

“That’s right. Now… I know I said if you give me what I want, I’ll give you what you want… and I can feel how your pathetic cunt’s about to cream all over my cock, but… like you said, your only purpose is to make babies and take cock. Breeding bitches don’t need orgasms.” The choked sob you let out was probably the worst part of all of this because it was genuine. You really were getting close and you were looking forward to that release— for one moment to just forget what was happening. 

“No- no, please.” You whimpered, eyes filling with tears for an entirely new, more humiliating, reason. “Please, Jackson, I’ve been good. I- I did what you said— I gave you what you wanted.” You cried, bottom lip wobbling. 

“I know, honey.” He cooed condescendingly. “Other than the insolence and fighting back, you’ve been so good, haven’t you?” Your frown deepened at that. 

“Please, I’m sorry— I’m sorry, just please let me come,” Your voice had a whiny edge to it that you couldn’t control. 

“You poor thing… Look at me, baby, there you go.” Once you were staring into those hypnotizing blue eyes, he continued, voice much lower now. “I want you… to remember this moment. I want you to remember the way you begged your rapist to let you come.” You swallowed down a whimper, throat bobbing under his hand. 

“The next time you think you’re anything more than a pair of tits and a set of holes, think of this moment.” Your brows furrowed and you bit your trembling lip, trying not to cry. No matter how much you wished to deny it though, his words had you barreling toward your orgasm. “Do you understand?” He asked softly and you nodded, making his grip tighten on your neck. 

“Yes.” You whispered, voice shaking. 

“Good. Now I’m tired of listening to your fucking whining.” He said, pulling out, then flipping you back onto your knees and pushing your head down as he filled you again. He was chasing his orgasm now— his thrusts growing more frenzied and desperate, quiet grunts getting just a little bit louder. He brought his other hand up to join the one on your back, using it to hold himself up and keep you down at the expense of your lungs and breathing. 

“God- I can feel your pathetic little fuck hole clenching down on my cock. Are you close?” All you could do to respond was make a muffled noise against the sheets. “You better not fucking come.” He spat. “You don’t want that pretty neck broken do you?” He asked, softer, making you let out a loud sob. 

He was pounding you ruthlessly now, hips smacking your ass so hard you’d probably bruise. His balls hitting your clit with every thrust made you jolt each time and it was getting harder to stave off your orgasm. His movements started to slow but became rougher, almost pushing you forward from the intensity. When he finally stilled with a low groan, you whined and shifted uncomfortably. You could feel hot come filling you up with each twitch of his cock and every time he tried to push a little deeper, your back arched even more, to the point where it was starting to hurt, rather than just feel uncomfortable. He let out a heavy breath and pulled out, then sat back on his heels as he pulled your folds apart. 

Hour two

(I know it’s cut kind of awkwardly but this one shot turned into 18k words so I had to cut it somewhere skdhdk)

I have some questions rq. Pls answer🙏🏻

I was maybe thinking of saying “hour 1” etc instead of “part 1” for each part since.. yk it takes place over the course of serveral hours lol. Is that dumb? Should I just keep it as “part 1”?

Also I chose the title when the fic was only the length of part 1 and im not sure if I should keep it or not so lmk if you think I should make it something that relates to the whole fic rather than just one comment in the first part lol

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @nashja @rentaldarling @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @halleysc6met @babaohhhriley (didn’t let me tag ->) @deceitfuldevout @crunchsworld @bluujaiwrites @idkdudsworld @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @aviamulier @xxorazz

[harleehazbinfics]

Dear Baby, Chapter 4

Dear Baby, m.list | Author's Profile

A/N: i just turned 22, the big, two-two. Man, it's crazy to think, i used to be the youngest one when i was off running around and joining discord servers. god- Word Count: 1500+

“Miss (y/n) is there a baby in here?” the little princess asks as she gently rubs your tummy making you giggle at the fluttering feeling.

“Yes, there is, my sweet princess. And any day now I’ll be expecting my first child,” you reply swiping her hair behind her ear.

It had been several weeks since Charlie’s first visit and Lucifer arranged for her to come visit during Saturdays consistently, which Lilith who I heard begrudgingly approved of. So, days pass idly where Lucifer and I would go on with our daily lives of dining together, working together and relaxing when we could together, considering my health and growth of my little one. I refrained from going to hospitals or meeting with doctors to lessen the risk of news getting out about Lucifer hiding a Goetia in his castle. That would be an absolute nightmare. So, he helped me pick up some parenting books he already had and bought me a few inconspicuously to aid me. Which have arrived while I entertained his precious daughter while he received them.

Charlie lets out an awe with stars in her eyes as she continues petting my belly and adds, “Do you think it’ll be a boy or a girl? I think it’ll be a boy!”

“I don’t mind either. But it’ll be a while before we get to meet them. When they come out of me, they’ll still be in an egg!” you explain to her making her tilt her head in confusion.

“An egg? Do all babies come from eggs?” she asks with furrowed brows confused.

“Do you remember who the Ars Goetia are?” you ask her which she shakes her head to, “I’m part of the Ars Goetia and it’s our job to go to Earth as representatives of his majesty and report to him about what happens on Earth. We Goetia’s take the features of birds. To signify our status as messengers for his majesty.”

She carefully thinks about what you said and her eyes light up, “So, you’re a bird?! Can you show me your real form please?”

You gave her a laugh and nod, “Alright, alright.”

You closed your eyes as you allowed your magic to transform you back to your usual form. As you open back your eyes, you see Charlie looking at you with stars in her eyes.

“Wow! You’re so cool! You look very beautiful, Miss (y/n)!” she gushes with a high tone making you smile at her compliments.

“Thank you, princess. However, I think you’re far more beautiful than I,” you say as you pinched her cheek making her giggle at your touch.

“So, that’s why you’re gonna lay an egg! I see,” she says as she understood the reason behind it, “May I touch your hair?”

You dipped your head and allowed her to caress your feathers, “Yes, you may, my dear princess.”

She touches you feathers in fascination. Your hair was smooth, silky, and ticklish to touch that it entertained her ‘til you heard a knock on the door. Your feathers puffed up from the scare and transformed back to your human form and winked at Charlie with a finger to your lips telling her to keep it a secret, which she mimics cutely.

“Charlie? There you are!” Lucifer calls her relieved, “Come, your mom is here to pick you up.”

She hops off your lap and reaches for you hand to hold trying to help you when you stood up. The three of you walked out of the room together hand in hand with Charlie in the middle.

“What were you doing with (y/n)?” Lucifer asks playfully seeing how giddy his daughter was after talking to you alone.

She looks at you briefly before settling back to her father, “It’s a secret!”

When you arrive at the waiting room, you see Lilith with her arms crossed waiting for your arrival. Eyes still hidden behind her shades making you feel intimidated as you realized you were still holding hands with their daughter with her husband. You gently pull away your hand, which thankfully, Charlie didn’t mind as she kisses her father’s cheek goodbye.

She then walks back to you and pulls you down to her height and also kisses your cheek making you look surprised.

“See you next week, Dad! Miss (y/n)!” she waves as she walks out with her mother.

You and Lucifer wave back with a satisfied smile. However, you check on Lilith who pulls down her shades ever so slightly and see her scrutinizing glare. You hiccupped at the intimidation and pull down your hand in shame.

“Are you okay?” Lucifer asks you worriedly, seeing your change in behavior when the door closes.

“Yes, of course,” you try to assure him which only earns you a doubtful look making you fess, “It just seems like you wife doesn’t like me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry that happened. She just might be venting her anger at you. I’m sorry,” he sighs.

“It’s fine. Nothing I can’t handle,” you reply with a confident smile.

“No, you shouldn’t be treated like this. It’s unfair to pull you into our fight,” he grumbles as he sits on the couch holding his head.

You fall silent, not finding the words to reply to him. You didn’t have to as he takes your free hand and gently tugs you to his side.

“I should tell you why we split up,” he says before clearing his throat.

You look at him in surprise, sitting next to him. Then patiently waiting for him explain his situation.

“We got into a massive fight after a few centuries coming into hell. I was cooped up in my room, feeling miserable about myself for disobeying God and ending up here. I just couldn’t find a good way to cope with that loss, you know? As much as people portray that I have no regrets and I’ve turned my back against Heaven. They couldn’t be more wrong about that assumption. I love Heaven, but I betrayed their trust in me. And that is something I have to deal about myself every day.

“So, after gathering my bearings so a moment, I realized what Lilith was doing while I cowered away. I learnt that she was gathering power from all those who’ve fallen here. This alerted me and the angels. I confronted her about it and asked her to stop. I just didn’t want another problem to arise, more so now that we’ve fallen here. We had nowhere to turn to if we started something with Heaven. But… she shook me off and told me I was a coward, and asked where that bold man she met in that garden then left me, taking our daughter with her,” he confesses with his head tilted down in shame, making me cover his forearm to comfort him.

“So, she wanted to rebel against Heaven for forsaking her?” you ask cautiously.

Lucifer lets out another sigh and replies, “It would appear so. I wouldn’t blame her. Aside for not standing beside her for the same reason, I think she also hates me for her dragging into this mess.”

He covers his face with his hand. Guilt, shame and frustration filling his entirety. You looked at him worriedly as he fell into another pit of self-loathing.

“I’m sure no one would have foretold this to happen,” you say softly taking the hand that covered his face and held both his hands together, “But, if you think about it. Charlie being here with you, isn’t that the best thing that could have come out of this situation?”

He looks at you with teary eyes in realization and smiles as he nods, agreeing with me. You return it before wiping his eyes. He gives you a laugh feeling your touch ticklish and takes them back in his hands.

“Until now, her anger hadn’t blown off. The only reason she’s allowed me to see Charlie was because of our love for her, and thanks to you, for giving me courage to see her again. If it weren’t for you, I’d imagine my relationship with her would be strained,” he says gratefully squeezing my hands and giving me a warm smile.

You flush red at the look he’s giving you. Feeling fluttery inside, unclear if it were the butterflies or the little one inside you, but nonetheless, it was a pleasant feeling.

“You’re welcome, your majesty,” you reply with a smile of your own, cheeks red making him think of how lovely you looked right now.

“Call me Lucifer, please,” he requested from you as his red flush gone unnoticeable with his red cheeks.

“Lucifer,” you call him, making him sigh dreamily from how intimately you called him.

‘Uh, oh,’ he thought. There it was. That sticky feeling in his heart as he thought of you.

It was no brainer for Lucifer to deduce what he was feeling right now. He’s fallen for you. Your warmth, kindness, beauty, and much more he could list down in more than 6000 words. You were very special to him. And he hoped he was as special to you as you are for him.

Dear Baby, Taglist:

@wonderlandangelsposts @spoiled-slutt @roboticsuccubus83 @simbalioness @reachthestars @atlas-rin @luc1fersducky @condy-wants-a-cookie @lovestruck-enby @azullynxx @delightedtosee @beansluvsmilo @cherry-4200 @aria-tempest @lvstyangel @0strawberrysorbet0 @corvid007 @enby-goblin @whydosnakesnotdance @willow404 @psychoanalyze0 @sweetadonisbutbetter @hahalameee @manachpo @dionysusismypatrongod @obessivlyonline @idkwhy5000 @gabile18 @bontensbabygirl @rocketxgirl @pastelpinkhobbies @theblueslytherin @purplerose291 @sappire904

[winchesterwild78]

Broken pt 5

Master List

Characters: Jensen x Reader (wife)

Warnings: a little bit of angst, but mostly fluff.

A/N:  Idea given to me by @cheekygirl2309. This one is a little different than what I usually write. This chapter has a little bit of sunshine for our couple.

Minors DNI 18+

Jensen grabbed me and pulled me close to him. “Pregnant? Really?” Tears filled his eyes. “Yes, Jens. We’re going to have a baby.” 

He took me by the hand and led me to the couch. “Sit here baby. I’m gonna fix you something to eat.” I chuckled, “Jensen, I’m not hungry right now.” “Well you haven’t eaten much, let me get you some fruit or something, please.” His green eyes flicked to mine, “Please baby. Let me take care of you and our baby.” 

I nodded and my hand instinctively went to my belly. “Okay Jensen. How about some apples and water?” 

He smiled and went to the kitchen. A few minutes later he came back with a plate of apples and a bottle of water. 

“Thank you, Jensen.” He smiled and sat next to me. 

“Jensen, I think we should wait to tell everyone. It’s still very early and I want to make sure everything is okay before we do.” 

“Whatever you want, baby. 

Jensen and I had decided to head back home, well Toronto since we wanted to see the doctor right away. 

He booked the plane tickets and we were heading home the next day. I was ready but really didn’t want to leave our little cocoon we found ourselves in. 

Being here with him, in the silence of the mountains made everything else seem to disappear. He however, needed to get back to work too. 

The flight home was uneventful and Jensen let Eric know he was back. His filming schedule was set to resume in two days.

We were able to get set up with a local doctor who thankfully had an opening today. As we walked into the office Jensen was immediately recognized, but thankfully everyone was professional. 

The nurse immediately took us back to prevent us from being bombarded by people. I was thankful. Dr Ellington was sweet. She was obviously a fan of Jensen’s and was a little star struck, but maintained her composure. She confirmed the pregnancy and she ordered an ultrasound. Checking the heartbeat and measurement she estimated I was about 5-6 weeks along. 

We talked to her about my endometriosis and asked if it would have any effect on the pregnancy. She explained that with endometriosis I had a higher risk for pregnancy loss and complications that could lead to delivering via c-section. 

I grabbed Jensen’s hand and squeezed. She saw the fear in my eyes, “It’s okay, sweetie. We will just keep you coming back every week and keep a close eye on you and the little nugget.” I nodded and let out the breath I was holding. 

Jensen asked more questions as I took in everything she said. I was terrified and wanted to make sure I did everything right. We scheduled the next appointment, next Wednesday and we left. 

“Jens, what about work? You can’t take off every week to go to the doctor’s office with me.” He grabbed my hand and held it tight, “Yes I can, and yes I will. I told you, you and this baby are a priority. I’ll talk to Eric and we will work it out.” 

I nodded. Thankful for such an amazing husband. I could see he was really trying. I knew he was worried about what the doctor said, but I also knew he wouldn’t burden me with the worry. 

“Jens, I’m scared.” He glanced over at me and nodded, “I know baby. I am too, but we will do whatever it takes to keep both of you safe and healthy.” 

The next few months Jensen and I fell into a comfortable groove. He would go to do his shoots and on days I had an appointment he would go in late. Some days I’d go with him, others I would go back to the apartment. 

As my pregnancy progressed the doctor wanted me to rest as much as possible, so that meant on set I was confined to the trailer. 

I was laying on the couch in Jensen’s trailer as he was on set. He had brought lunch and we snuggled on the couch until he had to go back. The baby was active today so he sat with his hand on my belly for most of his break. 

I loved watching him sing and talk to the baby. He was made to be a father. I had a late afternoon appointment today so Jensen was working on getting his scenes done before we had to leave. 

Laying on the couch I fell asleep. I dreamed of my father again. 

“Daddy. It’s been so long.” I ran and threw my arms around him. “Hey peanut. Looks like you’re growing a bit.” He chuckled as he touched my belly. “Yeah. The baby is growing and is healthy. They are just keeping an eye on us to make sure we stay that way.” My dad nodded, “Yeah. Don’t worry, sweetie. He’s going to be just fine. I promise.” Before I could ask him what he meant I heard Jensen’s soft voice, “Baby, wake up. It’s time to go to the doctor.” 

I stretched and looked at him. He had already showered and changed. I was a little disappointed. I loved seeing him in his Soldier Boy costume. “Did you have a good nap, baby?” Jensen asked as he helped me get up. 

“Yeah, I dreamed about daddy again. He called the baby a “he”.” 

Jensen smiled, “Well, maybe it is a boy. That would be fine with me.” His green eyes sparkled. 

Arriving at the doctor’s office it was a bit busier than I expected. Unfortunately that meant we had to wait in the waiting room for a bit. It always made me nervous, but most of the people there were respectful and left us alone. 

My leg bounced nervously. Jensen smirked and placed his hand on my leg. He leaned over and kissed my cheek, “Hey, it’s okay baby.” I looked at him and nodded. 

A younger woman came in and sat near us. She kept looking up at Jensen and then over at me. She gasped softly, realizing who he was. We hadn’t officially announced the pregnancy yet, so her seeing us made me even more nervous. 

I looked over at her and pleaded with my eyes. Jensen saw the concern on my face. He decided to be his charming self. “Excuse me ma’am?” He flashed that killer smile. She looked up and blushed, “Yes?” he extended his hand, “I’m Jensen, and this is my wife Y/N.” 

She nodded, “Yeah, I know who you are. I’m a fan. Sorry for staring. I didn’t know she was pregnant.” Jensen smiled and nodded, “Yeah, we haven’t announced it yet. We’re just trying to make sure everything is okay with her and the baby before we do. She just recently lost her dad and we’ve been grieving and working on keeping the baby safe. I would really appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to anyone.” 

She looked at me and then back at Jensen, “Oh I am so sorry to hear about your dad, but yes, totally. Your secret is safe with me. I promise. I’m having a difficult pregnancy too, so I completely understand. I hope everything works out with the baby.” Jensen placed his hand on her shoulder, “I’m sorry you’re having a difficult pregnancy. That has to be scary, and thank you for keeping our secret. We really do appreciate it. What’s your name, darlin’?” “Oh Karly Johnson, and this little bean is going to be Samantha Jane.” 

“Well it’s nice to meet you Karly, and I hope Samantha continues to do well. Thanks again.” She nodded and he sat down.

A few minutes later we were being called back. After being checked, bloodwork done, and other tests done it was time to move to ultrasound. 

Jensen helped me lay back on the table and the ultrasound tech got the machine ready. 

“You two ready to see your baby?” She asked as she grabbed the wand. We nodded. Jensen held my hand as we heard the heartbeat. Tears filled my eyes. It was so strong and steady. 

“So, do we want to know what we’re having?” I looked at Jensen and he looked at me, we both said yes at the same time. 

She moved the wand around and then turned the screen more towards us, “So it looks like it’s a boy.” I gasped softly and Jensen chuckled. “A boy?” I whispered. She nodded and showed us how she knew. It was clearly a boy. 

She printed pictures for us, I got cleaned up and changed then we left. 

I couldn’t take my eyes off the pictures. Jensen couldn’t stop smiling. 

“Jens we’re having a boy.” I beamed. “Yeah baby we are.” He couldn’t contain his smile. 

A little while later we were back home and I kept looking at the pictures. Jensen stood with this body leaned against the doorframe watching me. 

She’s so beautiful and now she’s giving me a boy. I can’t believe it. I’m the luckiest man alive. 

He pushed off the doorframe and sat beside me. “Baby?” I looked up at him, “Hmm?” “Are you ready to go public? Once we tell our family it’s a boy.” 

I took a deep breath, “Yeah. I guess we can’t hide it forever. Especially after being recognized today.” 

He nodded. We called our families and they were over the moon with the news the baby was a boy. 

Jensen wanted the announcement to be cute. So he grabbed a sign and wrote 1978 on it and had me take a picture, then he wrote Y/B/Y on it and took a picture, then wrote coming soon and the due date on it and took a picture with a pair of blue booties. 

He put it in a collage and posted it on social media with the caption: “Baby Boy Ackles joining the family soon.” 

The comments, likes and shares were instant. The love was overwhelming. One comment really melted my heart, “Aww that’s perfect. She just lost her dad and now she’s having a boy. I bet her dad sent him to her. 💙 Can’t wait to meet baby boy.” 

Jensen smiled as he pulled me close. “I love you so much baby.” “I love you too, Jens.” 

He placed his hand on my belly, “I love you too. So much.” I smiled and he kissed me softly. “Come on darlin’, let’s get you something to eat.” I smiled and nodded. 

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[endursent]

- God Shattering Star

【 content; morax | rex lapis x reader , slow burn , mutual pining , multi-chapter , archon war period , afab!reader 】

【 note; i need to stop saying "dw guys next chapter wont take that long!" every time i do i get pulverised by a boulder | read on ao3 】

【 word count; 6.305 | previous chapter - next chapter | masterlist 】

- Chapter 13 - Dissolution

Your poor forehead was itchy the entire day following “the incident”, it didn’t bruise nor form a  large bump, thankfully, but you still felt sore if you pressed on it… 

  “It looks fine, just be glad it didn’t poke your eye out, idiot,” Ming Hui says after having tugged your head down to inspect it. She’s thankfully not mad at you anymore, not after you offered her both the youtiao—about four boxes of it, four sticks in each… she berated you for the number of them for a few minutes but seemed satisfied when you offered to take one box for yourself. 

  You straighten again after she inspected it, and wonder if you should tie a ribbon around your forehead to cover the small raise of your skin. “I didn’t sit under its trajectory on purpose,” you grumble—how are you the idiot for a branch falling on your head? You don’t have the reflexes to knock it away or dodge… if anything, you just sat there and watched it plonk down towards you. 

  She turns around to grab some bottles off the table behind her, setting them on a tray before walking past you—while you’ve been… otherwise occupied, Ming Hui has been studying medicine and healing arts under Ground Mender. You feel a bit bad for missing out on the lessons, but perhaps you can convince Ground Mender to let you attend as well. “What are you doing?” you ask curiously as she pops open the jars and bottles.

  “Making a tonic that numbs your mouth,” she says and starts… just pouring all of the liquids into one larger jar, the colour is blue and a bit misty. 

  “Ah…” you make a sound of understanding. You’re not sure what it would be used for, perhaps oral infections…? “Does it not require more… gentle mixing?”

  “Doesn’t matter once it’s all in there,” she says, closes the lid, and shakes it wildly. 

  Sure. You’ll take her word for it. 

  In the few days after arriving, there wasn’t much for you to do—you feel like a war general in a province without war. There were no patients suffering from afflictions relating to foul energies in the infirmary, mostly just routine injuries that you helped dress, keep an eye on, and assist the patients themselves be comfortable.

  You’ve never been much of a nurse, always preferring the ‘you’ve been cleansed please go home and rest’ approach… 

  Just as you’re tossing out some dirty shirt— a poor man has been vomiting endlessly for the last few hours and always just barely misses the basin before it comes out, and thus has gone through a few shirts since the morning—you spot a white robe moving in the corner of your eyes and see that Ground Mender has decided to grace the infirmary with her presence. 

  She’s been busy, you assume, as she has barely come around the infirmary in the last days—so you seized the opportunity and quickly jogged after her. “Ground Mender!”

  At the call, the adeptus stopped and turned towards you, eyes curious. “Ah, my apologies—I’m in a bit of a hurry, I’ll have free time tomorrow if you want to chat.”

  She didn’t give any details, as usual—you don’t expect the adepti to tell you anything at this point unless it’s very important. “Oh, it’s okay, I’ll talk to you later then,” you quickly reply. You would like to ask her where she’s going, or what she’s doing, but Ground Mender is already halfway down the hallway by the time you could think of what to ask her. 

  Next time, then…

  Feeling so restless is annoying, you can’t even relax and read a book or take a walk after leaving the infirmary without feeling as if you should be doing something else, something more important… doing what you always do.

  There’s no one to cleanse in the capital, there’s no one—at least that has been brought to you—suffering from afflictions relating to foul miasma or strange energies… but you know that somewhere, in places outside of the well-guarded cities, there are people suffering, perhaps sick and unable to get better, because their illness is not the cause of bacteria or themselves, but a foreign energy invading their body.

  You kick a rock in front of you as you walk through the city streets, it bounces four times before you’ve approached it again give it a good swing, causing it to bounce ahead of you again. 

  Perhaps… it’s okay if you leave for a while—there’s not much for you to do anyway, you can always just be summoned again if something happens? 

  You’re not used to being so… tied down to a place, to feel like you don’t have the option to leave whenever you’d like—but you’re unsure why you feel like you can’t leave, it’s not like you’re being held here, you doubt you’d be dragged back kicking and screaming if you expressed that you truly wanted to leave. 

  But you can’t bring yourself to pack your clothes and depart. It’s been on your mind for two days now, and no matter how it bounces back and forth in your head like this stupid pebble, you can’t figure out whether you want to go or not. 

  Besides… who knows where that massive demon went, staying here for the time being would be the safest option—but you’ve never been particularly pressed about your own safety over others, what if he’s devouring people by the villages as you’re wandering the city streets and munching on rice cakes?

  Finally, the pebble you’ve been abusing for a while bounces off to the side and down a stream that hugs an empty home—you won’t go digging for it, so you keep moving. 

  Coming to the stall you were looking for, old man Zhou’s son has reached much popularity with his mixed cuisine, taking what he learned in the west and both selling specialties he learned there, as well as integrating them into local dishes. 

  There is a row of people that splits into two waiting to be served, and you can see the top of his head behind the stall, as well as two shorter heads running to people waiting by the side with their ready orders—his cousins, if you understood currently from your brief visit yesterday. 

  They had just closed the stall when you came here last night, so you were out of luck getting something warm—but Zhou’s son, Shi Hao, had told you to come again early the next day… it seems even leaving at sunrise wasn’t early enough to avoid the crowds. 

  Preparing to wait for a while, and taking a spot at the back of the queue, you couldn’t help but listen in on a conversation between a young girl and boy waiting in front of you. “—uncle told me there’s ghosts in the west, I wonder if the buns here are made of ghost hairs.”

  “What?” the boy next to her gives the girl a confused look. “Why would anyone make buns out of hair? It’s made of dough.”

  “Pigs have hair, why can’t buns have hair? When I poke father’s pig, it feels like I’m poking dough,” the girl shakes her head. “And ghosts have a lot of hair, you can’t cut your hair when you’re a ghost.”

  You decide to tune out of their conversation, every time you listen to kids talk you feel like you understand them less and less.

  The wait stretches on forever, you’re halfway into the queue and feel as if you’ve been waiting for two hours—though it could also have only been one. After an eternity of waiting, it’s very hard to wait when such delicious, strong smells of cooking are wafting by you every second. The sun has risen into the sky, but it’s not very warm despite the brightness… people are dressed in warmer layers as they wait for a hot meal or snack. You hear chatter as a woman behind you keeps rubbing her hands together to keep them warm. 

  Shi Hao barely notices that it’s you when you step up to the front, the headband he’s tied around his forehead to keep sweat from dripping onto the food news changing soon and his hair looks as if a dragon blew him away. “Good day, precious patron!” he calls as he ducks down to fetch more herbs from below. “What could I make for you today? Please look at the menu!”

  You already knew what you wanted, as you had visited the night before. “One traveller’s delight, please,” you lean a bit over the stall so that he could hear you—just as the man shoots up into a standing position and almost knocks heads with you. “Oh—”

  “Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it was you!” Shi Hao grabs your left arm and shakes it heartily, and you have to grit your teeth to not flinch—that guy’s grip is intense, and your poor arm doesn’t take shaking very well, not shaking like this at least! “I’ll get on it right away—Qi Xuan! Orders seventy two and ninety eight are ready!” 

  One of his cousins came running, it was far before noon and they already seemed as if the two had run three laps across the capital. Maybe you should fetch some water for them after having your meal. 

  You step aside after giving Shi Hao your order as well as setting the sufficient more in the little box on the counter to let the next person approach. While this stand seems to be doing very well… it’s blocking the narrow street that the entrance to Thousand Pots lies in quite a bit. The large crowd both waiting in line and for their food on the sides doesn’t make it easy to spot the small restaurant. 

  Making the mental calculation that your food would likely not be ready in the next seven minutes, you duck into the alleyway and see that Thousand Pots is open as usual, and despite the crowd outside there were still three people inside having a nice meal. 

  As soon as you took two steps in, something hard knocked you on the back, you make a sound of surprise and discomfort and turn to see what had hit you—only to be met with Zhou, holding a ladle, the offending weapon. “Ow… master Zhou, why are you—”

  He whacks you again, but the old man doesn’t exactly have good joints, so it makes it easy for you to predict the next whack and dodge accordingly—by almost banging your hip on a table a poor fellow is eating on. “A youngster like you should be able to fend off an old man like me more easily!” 

  You don’t recall making Zhou angry, and as you almost fall over when your foot hits a chair in the small space, the ladle whacks you on the forehead—right where you had been sore already—and you groan, halfway to falling to the floor and barely able to hold yourself up by grabbing the side of a table next to you. 

  “It was a small tap, don’t tell me you have a skull like a tea pot?” he taps you with it again, and this time you grab the long arm of the ladle and hold it away from you. 

  “Ow… why are you attacking me?” you grumble, rubbing your poor forehead as Zhou lets go of the ladle, leaving it in your care. “Isn’t the restaurant open? I didn’t break in.”

  Shi Hao’s cousin enters the restaurant behind the old man, holding a sealed basket—likely your much anticipated meal. “Gramps does that every time we do something stupid,” the girl says and hands you the basket. “Like when uncle was teaching me to make fish soup, but I forgot to gut the fish.”

  “I don’t recall fumbling a fish soup,” your eyebrows draw together as you’re suddenly holding both your food and the damp ladle Zhou had been using, you extend the ladle to the girl and she accepts it. “But I’m sure I would, I’ve never made one before.”

  Zhou makes a humph-ing sound and takes the ladle from the girl, but doesn’t take another swing at you—thankfully. “We heard all about your condition, and right as you were getting better, you up and leave! I had prepared a week’s worth of delicious meals for you!”

  “Ah…” your lips part, and you’re not sure what to say; for one, who is feeding this old man information from within the palace? You feel a bit bad immediately after his words settle in your brain, you’re not a very wasteful person, and knowing that food was prepared—or more likely, ingredients were prepared and would be used over the week—and were then not used makes you feel uneasy. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware…”

  “Of course you weren’t, it was a surprise,” Zhou said and walked into the back of the restaurant, the girl behind you left as well—and momentarily you were a bit lost as to what you should do, was the conversation over? Are you free to go? 

  Hesitantly walking past tightly spaced tables and into the kitchen, you just manage to see the short old man duck under a flaming pan with two other people preparing for lunch. “Now look at you, like a wet rat.”

  Though a bit exasperated by being scolded so much—especially when you just came out here to get some tasty food—having a elder berate you is a bit nostalgic. “I’m sorry, master Zhou, can I repay you for the foods you had prepared? I hate to hear it went to waste.” The kitchen is steaming hot, with one of Zhou’s daughters working at a broth and another person you haven’t seen before taking a jar that’s been prepared to ferment what’s inside, though already sealed, so you can’t see what.

  “Waste?” the old man popped up again, and suddenly plopped a fat, heavy dough wrapped in a dry bag into your arms—you barely had time to put your basket of ordered… and likely going cold, food aside on a clean surface to catch it. “Little Ming Hui gobbled it up like a starving beast, she didn’t let anything go to waste.”

  It was a relief that nothing went to waste, and you’re not exactly sure how you would repay him—you didn’t bring a lot of mora with you. 

  “That’s good,” you hum, but feel a bit out of place—you had got a taste of the kitchen-rhythm and were very self-aware that you were standing in the middle of it, possibly about to be in someone’s way any second. “Eh… why am I holding this?” you ask hesitantly, it smells a bit like dumpling-dough, and fresh at that.

  “Repay you can! Now come here and cut that dough into even pieces, I’ll teach you how to make my dear wife’s favourite,” he suddenly appears behind you, having rounded the tiny kitchen in seconds without knocking into a single thing, and is now pushing you through the tight space. Pots, plates and other dishware stack up to the ceiling on both sides, and you can really see why they decided to name the place “Thousand Pots”, you couldn’t begin to count them.  

  “O-of course, but, my food—” you start to protest. It’s not that you have important places to be, but what about that lovely smelling basket you just got?? How do you keep getting roped into such things?

  “Bah, Shi Hao can make you more later, put the dough on the counter before you drop it!”

  You feel as if the strings of fate have been forcibly guiding you into kitchens a lot recently, doing hard work with dough… and you feel like you’re really starting to get a hang of it too, though having to take frequent breaks to rest your arms has slowed your progress quite a bit.

  Heat emanating from behind you where Zhou’s daughter is steaming some vegetables makes you feel as if your clothes are sticking to your skin, you wipe your hands after stuffing another bun and look over your shoulder to find the old man, to tell him the buns are ready for the steamer—but your name is called before you could even open your mouth. 

  “In here,” Zhou walks back into the kitchen with a familiar man in tow—Morax ducks under the flaps at the entrance to the kitchen and lets his eyes wander over the pot-filled space before landing on you. “Ah, done already? Well done! Let’s get them ready,” the old man nods eagerly and scoops up about five buns at once from in front of you. 

  For a moment, you thought you were hallucinating—no one else seems to greet or notice him there, and you’re unsure how to test this hypothetical illusion… you kick the counter before you, and sure enough, despite the sting in your poor toe, Morax remains. 

  His eyes lower down to your foot, and then raise up to meet your eyes again with swirls of confusion. “Are you… experiencing jerking symptoms in your leg?”

  His confused and rather innocent question makes you feel a bit bad. “No, I just—it was an accident, my legs are fine,” you quickly say, wiping your sticky and flour-covered hands on your pants. “Why are you here? Er, I mean—are you here for any specific reason? Or, is it a coincidence…? No…” you started out too harshly, then got too specific and ended up asking a strange question. You need to socialise with wider circles on a more consistent basis. Maybe you should find a council to join and relearn how to be polite in a manner you won’t fumble so easily.

  Morax simply waits until you finish talking, no longer seeming confused or concerned—despite the fact you feel that you’ve been around him quite a bit more than many, at least many mortals like yourself, you still struggle to understand his expressions… or perhaps he’s the one who struggles to form them. “I was searching for you. Ming Hui told me that you had gone to taste young Shi Hao’s new menu, and the little ones outside told me you were put to work.”

  It’s a little embarrassing that he had to search for you, but you can’t be blamed too much—you got roped into kitchenwork, you can’t exactly abandon half-cut dough.

  “Searching for me? What for?” your fingers still feel sticky from the dough, and you look around for a washbasin or towel, but find nothing that seems to be for washing your hands, perhaps it’s behind the middle counter where the broth is being made. It must be somewhere—it’s a kitchen after all. 

  Morax notices your mild discomfort, searching around subtly—or so you think—as you wipe more at your clothes that are already powdered by flour. He chooses not to comment on it nor inquire what you need. “It is best discussed with more privacy, if you… have finished here, I would like you to accompany me.”

  You immediately nod. “Oh, of course.” but as you glance to the heap of chopped and worked dough next to you, a small part of you feels like you’re leaving a job only half-done. 

  Thankfully, before you can either ask the god before you to wait a moment or that you’ll come to him later—Zhou behind you calls that you’re done for the day, and that you can leave if Morax needs you. “I’ll save some buns for you! Come back later!”

  The air feels cold when you’re back outside, you didn’t realise how stuffy the kitchen had become until now. The fresh, cool air almost makes your teeth tingle as you follow Morax, his long feet allowing him to outpace you quite well. 

  The walk is silent between the two of you, but the streets are alive and loud with people as the afternoon brings them out from work and obligations, you have to shoulder past a few to keep in pace with him as you pass through a busy street and almost feel that you need to grab ahold of his clothes or arm to not lose sight of him—though the thought is equally as terrifying as it would be embarrassing would he turn with question or discomfort. 

  You refrain, you don’t make a habit of touching people anyway—surely you could just give him a shout and he’ll wait by the nearest street corner? 

  Thankfully you manage to follow Morax through the crowd until the two of you reach the high streets leading towards the palaces, where he looks over his shoulder to see whether you were still behind him—and upon seeing your form still trailing behind, he tilts his head slightly and turns back forward. 

  “Were you enjoying yourself?” Morax suddenly asks as you begin to ascend the stairs towards the palaces, he climbs them so easily it seems as if he were merely gliding upwards—meanwhile you have to fight to keep up with him, and hope he doesn’t hear any heavy breathing. 

  You take two steps at a time to try and catch up to his side. “In the kitchen? I don’t know,” you admit. You just did what you were told, kneading was a bit straining—and not the most interesting thing you’ve done, but you were too focused to get too bored. “I don’t mind cooking, or baking. But I don’t spend time perfecting the craft…”

  He hums, golden eyes faced forward as you finally seem to match his pace. “Your dedication to your work is admirable.”

  You almost stumble face-first onto the rocky stairs, your poor toe impacting the step you intended to push onto too early. With a lack of grace you manage to steady yourself before cracking a tooth, or possibly breaking your nose on the ground. “A-ah, thank you…”

  The sudden compliment startled you, weren’t you talking about cooking? You suppose the reason you haven’t learnt the optimal ways of making your favourite meals and opting for the quicker route instead is because you are often more focused on getting back to whatever you were doing before dinner time… maybe you’re not as hard to read as you expected, or hoped. 

  You’re not sure what to say, and he doesn’t offer any more words as you continue to climb the stairs—should you offer a compliment in return? It doesn’t feel right to just leave it at that, but you haven’t directly done so before, wouldn’t it feel too forced?

  “The Guili Assembly has always been home to me, and I hate to see the people suffer unnecessary sickness,” you add. To have a healthy body, a fate unburdened from illness—and have it forced upon you by conflicts out of your control… how can it be fair? 

  You hate to see the pallid skin of a person who climbed a tall mountain to collect flowers for their love, the foreign ichor that crawls beneath their muscle and steals life from it. You wish for them to be healthy and whole again, as they are meant to be. Without the interference of a godly war for territories and strength—

  You hear your name spoken in front of you and realise you fell behind, a good eight steps between the two of you. Morax is staring at you, considering your words. “It is a noble thing, to devote oneself to easing the pain of others.” 

  A second acknowledgement, your heart feels a bit too noticeable in your chest—beating too firmly against your ribs. He seems like he wants to say more, but as a cool breeze pushes at your side, his eyes flicker from your face when a leaf flows between the two of you, breaking your eye-contact and he quickly sets a foot to the next step. “Come, I wish to show you something.”

  You’ve never been at the top of Morax’s palace, it’s mostly bare compared to Guizhong’s well decorated and pretty hallways. The wood is elaborately cut and polished, of course… but there’s a distinct lack of… soul within it. No artwork, no artefacts or curtains. You can’t help but wonder why as your gaze finds his back again. 

  The room you step into is shaped the same as the one Guizhong called you into a while ago, but whilst her was a blend of an office and workshop, Morax’s seems more of a war room. There is a map on a table at the centre, the Guili Assembly is outlined at the centre, the vast oceans to the east and the mountains that warp into a swirl to the southwest—many mapped lands that you have never set foot in, and some you have only heard of and never seen on a map. 

  The windows are tinted and closed, casting the afternoon sun onto the floor as unlit lamps hang from the ceiling. You feel like the air is a bit heavy, it could do with an open window…

  “He Shan disappeared into the western highlands, I did not manage to trace his exact location or where he has chosen to hide himself,” Morax says as he closes the door behind you, he moves past you and approaches a large cabinet sat against the wall to your left. It’s large and has a lot of different doors to it—you could imagine scrolls and small artefacts could be kept inside each one. 

  Opening one, Morax reaches inside and takes out an object wrapped in a cloth, golden lines shimmer atop the covered item as he taps it twice. The centre of the seal quivers before disappearing into particles, floating into the air and disappearing above your heads. As he unravels it, the object looks like a stone slab of some sorts. You approach the war table as Morax does, he sets the object down and your nose scrunches as a terrible stench emanates from it. “He leaves behind traces of himself, this is a chipped piece of his scales, likely torn from his body when moving around the landscape.”

  A scale? Well, part of a scale, the serpent was so massive you imagine one scale is half the size of your body—or at least the size of your torso, this chipped scale fits into your palm. “Why does it smell like this?” you ask, you don’t remember such a stench filling the air as the demon emerged from the mountain, only the oppressive weight of his resentment. 

  Morax is silent for a beat, before he turns the scale around—and beneath it is an inky, writing mass. It gleams as if it’s wet, but it doesn’t stick to Morax’s gloved hands, not leave a damp imprint on them. “In two villages I visited while following his traces, I found that their waters had been turned to sludge—they could not use the rivers to wash nor drink.”

  You looked at the mass on the inside of the scale again. “Is it safe to touch?”

  “Briefly, to my knowledge. But I have not tested prolonged exposure with mortal hands,” he says and gestures to the map on the table, his finger tapped on a dotted spot to the west of the Fangyuan mountains. “He moved from the mountains and west, past this village, as well as the town north of it,” Morax’s finger glides along the highlands separating the Guili Assembly from the deep forests further west. “I traced him to Tianqiu Valley before my path led to a dead end.”

  Your fingers curl at your chin, a hum leaving you. “Surely a serpent so large can’t just… hide?” it’s hard to imagine, he spanned so many kilometres you’re unsure how he would rest without leaving his tail in the open somewhere—or perhaps gods don’t require rest? You’ve never seen a god sleep, or an adeptus for that matter. 

  “Unfortunately, were he to hide further north there is too high of a risk to send scouts into foreign territory,” Morax shakes his head. “This scale, does this resemble the miasma you encounter during cleansing?”

  You eye the squirming mass, trying to gouge it from sight alone—you don’t really want to touch it, but just looking at it isn’t giving you much. It’s certainly more solid than the usual foul energies you pull out of people, miasma feels… slimy and wet, but not like you’re clenching a rat in your palm, even when it fights your pull. More like trying to grasp thick mist. 

  Reaching your hand out, you lay your palm over it—careful not to touch it as you feel for the energy. It’s much warmer than the usual miasma, but doesn’t shirk away when you get close… it’s definitely not the same, but has a similar tinge in a way that’s difficult to explain. “It is… different,” your brows pinch and you lift your hand away from the scale to see that the mass had lifted upwards and then deflated as soon as you moved—like bread being uncovered when it’s set to rest while making it. 

  “Different?” Morax moves the scale slightly, he didn’t quite like how it raised towards your palm. 

  “It’s got a similar aftertaste,” you wipe your hand on your clothes, it didn’t touch you, but you get an uncomfortable tingle from the thought of it. “Since he’s a demon, wouldn’t his energies be inherently different than the ones that infect the lands?”

  You’ve only dealt with a demon once before, and you didn’t stay long enough to get to know it properly—personally or in nature. 

  “Not necessarily,” Morax said. “The beings whose remains leave poison behind are all very different, many are classified as gods by mortals—it can be difficult to differentiate between them. Even Guizhong and I are very different in nature, but you would simply see the two of us as divine beings. Demons are similarly different among themselves.”

  You nod along as he talks, it’s surprisingly easy to listen to his voice when he’s explaining things to you. You did know that gods are very different in nature, rarely are gods one and the same. “I see… and we need to understand what kind He Shan is?”

  He nods and takes the scale from the table, wrapping it into the pale cloth again. “General Huang has extended contact to Mei Lan, it would greatly speed the process if she were willing to divulge their history. Facing the demon head on without any information of his nature is too dangerous.”

  After closing the cloth around it, the seal seems to close itself without his interference, Morax offers it to you. You blink at him, eyes moving between his expression and the scale. “... why are you giving it to me?”

  “The affinity you have for foul energies can be utilised for more than cleansing,” he says and takes your wrapped arm from your side, lifting it up and placing the wrapped scale in your palm. “Keep this in your bedroom, not by the nightstand, but on the desk.”

  Your fingers instinctively wrap around the clothed scale, but your eyebrows furrow. “Is it safe?”

  “I would not place this burden on you had I any doubts,” he shakes his head, and his warm hands leave yours. “Every evening, feel for its energies and move it from it’s spot every other night. When you wake, try to sense it across the room.”

  The pieces in your mind start to align as he gives you the instructions, clicking together in realisation. “You want me to be able to track him?”

  “My senses cover a large distance and can find a target’s location across the land,” his expression pinches as he talks, eyes narrowing slightly. “But as I reached Tianqiu Valley, his essence seemed to scatter, and each time I approached; it evaporated.”

  Some kind of trick, no doubt—you’re unsure how exactly you’re the solution to it, but you trust his foresight. “I see… you must forgive me, but I’m struggling to understand how I can be of assistance if you couldn’t find him.”

  You wince at your own words, maybe you could have worded it better—but can you be blamed for doubting yourself compared to him? 

  Morax doesn’t seem offended by your question, he moves towards a shelf and takes a book from it—it looks old, the cover doesn’t shield the spine of it and is made of a thick material you’re unsure what it is made of. “Many demons are proud beings,” he turns back towards you and holds the book out for you to take, you accept it with your free hand that isn’t clutching the uncomfortably warm scale. “They… over and under prepare simultaneously. You are not preparing for battle, do not worry overmuch,” an everso small tug lifts at his lips, so faint that you wouldn’t notice if you were not used to seeing his expression so lacking of one. “Tracking and cornering He Shan is the difficult part, but not the most dangerous. I will handle the rest swiftly afterwards.”

  You look down at the book, it seems to be a collection of old folktales, though they exaggerate, they can help give you an understanding of how demons behave around mortals. 

  Morax is asking much of you—that he knows well, to ask you to risk your safety to assist him. Defeating demons is mostly a game of mind, the physical battle will be a smaller feat for him; Morax has defeated many demons in the past. “If you are not willing, I will not force this task upon you,” he says, a mild concern touching his gaze by your silence. 

  Raising your head from staring at the book, you shake it. “I am willing. If it will prevent harm and disaster upon innocent villagers and townsfolk.”

  The small touch of a smile widens briefly, a gentle expression gracing his face—you truly wish he would be more expressive, every smile and soft gaze makes your palms sweat slightly, but they warm your chest as well. It might also make it easier for you to talk to him without feeling that you’re overstepping, or sounding silly. 

  “Very well, then I employ your assistance with this task,” Morax nods. “You will of course be well compensated.”

  Payment is always nice, but you hope he knows that you’re sincere when you say that you want to assist for the safety of others. You’re sure he’s only being formal. “Thank you. Is there anything else I must do other than… sleeping with this thing around?” you lift the clothed scale for emphasis. 

  “Yes,” he turns to the map beside the two of you again and meets your eyes briefly to ensure you’ve followed his movements before he gestures to the two villages he mentioned before along the western edges of the Assembly. “I did not manage to stop for long when I was tracking He Shan, the waters are likely still infected and must be cleansed. I requested supplies be sent from nearby towns to assist them, but it will not last for long.”

  It’s not too long of a travel distance, but you stay silent to let him continue. Surely you won’t be going alone? Not that you can’t, but what if the serpent decides to slide through again?

  “I cannot accompany you just yet, but I will convene with you in a few days.” Ah, as you suspected—you suppose it’s not so surprising, Morax must be very busy… He Shan is just one among many threats that the Guili Assembly faces in these times, many of which you are unaware of. “I will ask that Indarias join you, I suspect that He Shan’s potent energies will attract smaller demons that mistake it for remains.”

  You just nod along to his words, you don’t know who Indarias is but if they’re going to be joining you specifically because there might be demons about, then you suppose they must be capable. “When will we set out?”

  “Two days,” Morax straightens again, turning away from the map to face you completely again. “Indarias has been tasked elsewhere, but she will return quickly once summoned. I suspect two days will be enough—will you require longer to prepare?”

  “No… but…” a thought suddenly strikes you, something you hadn’t considered as you were discussing everything. “I lost my tools in the south, they were blown away at the start of the conflict,” you scratch your cheek awkwardly. Finding or getting cleansing tools isn’t a simple task, much less so crafting them from scratch, they need specific qualities and material to be effective. 

  Morax’s lips part slightly. “Ah, I see. I will speak with Ground Mender and see if she has any solutions, I will find you before you depart…” he pauses for a moment. “They were well used.”

  They were, well used and loved by your family, your grandmother before you and many before. You always promised to take good care of them… you swallow your saliva and just give Morax a nod. “Yeah, it was used by my family for a long time. It’s impressive how long it lasted, I suppose it was an eventuality.”

  Silent, Morax doesn’t seem to know what exactly to say. “I am sorry that you lost a family heirloom… it will not replace what was lost, but I can commission new tools for you. It will not do to be without.”

  It won’t be the same, but you will need new tools either way, you bow your head slightly. “Thank you, I’m grateful for your consideration.”

  You feel something touch your head—familiar and warm, a tinge of déjà vu prickling your mind. Morax had set his hand atop your head, giving it a small pat before retreating it again. “No need, it is my duty.” you gingerly raise your head again, head tickled a little from the touch. “Please use it well to continue your good work.”