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raibebe · 4 years ago

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Love Is On Air

Genre: fluff & smut Words: 8.722 Prompt: radio host Johnny x secret admirer female reader Warnings: soft dom Johnny, oral (f receiving), safe sex, dirty talk

A/N: Finally: My entry for the February event of my lovely network @neosmutcollective. This is totally not the fic I planned on writing. In fact this was started way later after I realized I was never going to finish my original fic on time. Not that this one is on time... Special thanks to everyone who sent our lovely DJs some music recommendations @sly-merlin, @moonctzeny, @lenaluvs, @lucas-wongs, @burtonized and to @ncteaxhoe who helped me figure out this idea. I hope you enjoy this even though it’s wayyy too late.

You hurried home to your apartment after your last class of the day that was horrifically late because of whoever had fucked up your schedule this semester. Panting heavily, you busted into your room and threw your jacket and backpack somewhere onto your couch, diving straight for your laptop that was perched on your desk. Cursing the old thing, you waited for agonizing minutes until it had booted up and your browser was open. You quickly opened the familiar page of your university’s campus radio just in time to hear the familiar voice saying: “Hi I’m John-D, welcome to NCT Night Night.” After that both hosts chuckled lowly before Jaehyun spoke: “Tonight we’ll read some of the letters you wrote us over the week again and we will try our best to help you out with whatever problems you throw our way.” “Exactly. Right after we play this song that was suggested by evangelie_99 over on our Twitter, it’s Pluto Projector by Rex Orange County and she said that she loves our show. We’re glad you like it so much, darling. This one is for you,” Johnny softly said before the soft tunes of the song filled your little one-room apartment.

Sighing, you leaned back in your chair, carelessly toeing your shoes off. Listening to NCT Night Night was your escape at night from the stress that classes brought you. The two DJs that were on air every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday were your favorites though. Not only did they have great chemistry but they both could be incredibly funny as well as soothe all your nerves with their calming voices – especially Johnny or John-D as he was called on their show. You might have developed a slightly embarrassing crush on the fratboy with a heart as sweet as his voice from what you knew about him from his radio shows and your shared classes. Since they had started their weekly segment where they would read out letters that students could send them, you had gathered the courage to send Johnny little messages about how you were crushing on him and it had quickly become a running gag on the show. Jaehyun would tease Johnny about it every week while Johnny kept insisting that his secret admirer should just talk to him. But how could you do that? Johnny was everything one could want in a boyfriend. Not only was he ridiculously tall and devastatingly handsome but he was also smart, always seemingly staying on top of his classes and he also went to the gym regularly if his thirst traps on his Instagram stories were anything to go by. When he wasn’t giving out advice in a gentle voice on their radio program, he was out partying with his frat brothers on the weekends more often than not complaining about headaches on their Sunday show. How could you just walk up to him and talk to him? Right. You couldn’t. So you had to resign to sending him anonymous love letters through his radio show.

“Welcome back, hi,” Johnny chuckled once the song had gently faded out and you couldn’t help but giggle along. “That was Pluto Projector by Rex Orange County,” Jaehyun tried to stay on script but you could almost hear the grin on his face because of Johnny’s antics, “If you want your song to play on today’s show, please suggest something over on our Twitter with the hashtag,” Jaehyun paused momentarily and let out a dramatic sigh before continuing, “hashtag JohnDplaymelikeaviolin.” Jaehyun hadn’t even read the whole hashtag out loud when Johnny was already bursting out in laughter and how could you not laugh along with his melodic laughter. “I swear to god I am never letting you choose hashtags for our show ever again,” Jaehyun groaned while Johnny sounded like he was still dying in the background. “Don’t be mean to me Jaehyunie,” he whined and even though today’s episode was not viewable, you could vividly imagine how he was pouting. While the two friends were busy bickering and talking about what they had done since their last show, you pulled up your own Twitter to send a recommendation in.

“Aaaah, I see we’re already getting plenty of suggestions. Sly-merlin suggested us Sexy Dirty Love by Demi Lovato – a great song – and added ‘I wish John-D would actually play me like a violin.” After a potent silence, Johnny broke out in laughter again. “And this is why you won’t choose any more hashtags,” Jaehyun groaned again. “Baby,” Johnny rasped into his mic and even though you weren’t wearing headphones, it sent tingles down your spine, “Just come to our frat party on Friday and I’ll see what I can do.” “Stop plugging our parties on the radio,” Jaehyun scolded the elder, the slap audible over the radio, “Also sly-merlin has to stand in line. You still have your number one admirer who has sent in a letter yet again.” “She still hasn’t come up to me,” Johnny shared, “I can only keep up my chastity for so long. I am saving myself for this girl.” You know he was joking but you were just a simple woman and even in your secluded home, you felt heat rising to your cheeks, your thumbs stopping on your keyboard where you had typed out your song recommendation. Both DJs shared a quiet laugh before Jaehyun asked: “And you really don’t know who she is?” “I really don’t man,” his friend sighed, “Like I have my suspicions because she has to be in my major if she sees me in class that often. That or she’s a stalker which I do not want to think about. But for real, hit me up. I’ll take you out for a coffee.” “Now everyone is going to come up to you and claim that they’re her.” “I’ll take that risk,” Johnny laughed, “Maybe I’ll finally meet the love of my life and settle down.” At that Jaehyun snorted loudly. “The woman that can make you settle down gets free coffee for like a month from me.” “Watch me have a wife and kids at 25 Jae, just to spite you,” his friend snorted, “But up until then, let’s play sly-merlin’s song recommendation: Sexy Dirty Love by Demi Lovato.”

While the song was playing, you finished up your own tweet and hit post before you grabbed your bag that you had carelessly thrown away before to get out your notes. You actually had to start a project for one of the classes you and Johnny actually did share. The professor had announced that he would announce the pairings for a group project tomorrow and you didn’t want to seem like an actual idiot if your group would decide to already meet up and discuss after class. So while you listened to your favorite DJs discuss the questions and worries of whoever had sent them to their email address, you worked through the notes you had taken over the last couple of weeks, trying your best to organize them to remember the key points.

“Oh John-D, I have a very special letter here,” Jaehyun said, waving the paper in front of the microphone so it would pick up the wiggling noises. “What could that be?” Johnny asked with over-exaggerated interest. “It’s from your secret admirer, John-D. So I think you should read it out.” Just like every time, they read your letter, your heart began beating faster and faster in your chest until you were sure, it would break free from your ribcage. “Okay, here I go,” Johnny announced while Jaehyun was playing the same cheesy music he always played when they were reading your letters, “Happy Thursday, John-D. The weekend is almost in reach, keep up the energy for the last day of classes! – she’s so sweet, I’m holding up alright – One of my professors will announce the pairings he made for a group project soon and I am nervous. I don’t have many friends in the course and I’m praying that I will get good group mates I can work well with.” “Oooh, I get that struggle,” Jaehyun interrupted, “I once had to work with a bunch of stoners and ended up doing all the work for a presentation that made up 30 percent of my grade. Worst experience of my life, would not recommend. But we’re wishing you all the luck.” “But you know what’s more interesting about this story?” Johnny tuned in, “Coincidentally my professor for my literature class is assigning our group projects tomorrow as well. Say, my sweet admirer, are you perhaps in the same literature class as me?” In your otherwise silent room, the panicked squeak you let out was loud even to your ears. There was no way Johnny could figure out who you were, there were probably at least 20 more girls with a crush on him in that class alone, so you were safe. “Oooh, so maybe she’s a lit major so that’s why she’s writing love letters.” “Could be but lots of people from different majors are taking that class,” Johnny argued, “Anyways, back to her letter. But I won’t let that disturb me! I will be doing my best regardless! – That’s the spirit – I’ll work through my notes as I listen to your honey voice so I can be prepared. I’m glad you don’t do viewable radios on Thursday’s or else I wouldn’t be able to get anything done, you’re just too distracting John-D,” at that Jaehyun let out a fake gag while Johnny just giggled softly, “Thank you secret admirer, I do clean up quite nicely if I do say so myself. – On last Sunday’s episode you melted my heart when you hid in your hoodie for half the show. – God that was the worst hangover I had in a looong while, I was so miserable.”

“You should have seen him at home,” Jaehyun laughed, “I had to physically drag his whole 180-something-centimeters body first into the shower, then into the car and into the station. He is the biggest crybaby when he’s hungover.” “Don’t expose me like that, Jaehyunie,” Johnny whined loudly, “I was dared to drink a bunch of tequila and my mother didn’t raise neither a quitter nor a coward.” “No, but clearly an idiot,” the younger DJ laughed his deep laugh. “Let me read my love letter in peace,” the other grumbled, “I couldn’t follow for half the show because I was so focused on watching you. Not in a creepy way of course! – Of course not,” Johnny chuckled, “I hope you finished that essay you had to work on after the show in time and still had some time to relax. – I did, don’t worry.” That you already knew when Johnny had handed in his essay in another class you two shared just before you had handed in yours and he had thrown you a little smile that had kept you going through the whole day. “Take care of yourself and keep smiling your beautiful smile, I look forward to seeing you again on Sunday or in classes. And fighting to Jae-D as well of course! – I look forward to hearing from you again, secret admirer. I bet your group project will go just fine, don’t worry too much. If anyone is mean to you, just expose them here and we’ll fight them for you.” “Love that she acknowledged me in one sentence as well,” Jaehyun grumbled, cutting off the cheesy music abruptly. “You’re just jealous you don’t have a sweet admirer who sends you cute messages,” the other teased his friend. “Yeah, yeah, shut up and put that letter in the box under your bed.” “It’s in my sock drawer, thank you very much.”

Giggling, you listened to the two friends bicker, your chest warm with a feeling you were scared to put a name on. “Anyways, I think it’s time for another music recommendation you can still send in via our lovely hashtag JohnDplaymelikeaviolin. This one is from lenaluvies and she says: Please play Hurts So Good by Astrid S thank you. No, thank you for sending something in darling. This one’s for you,” Johnny announced and you couldn’t help but laugh a little pained laugh. That song title hit a little too close to home for your liking. The rest of the radio show went by smoothly and Johnny and Jaehyun tried to help a handful of more students with their problems that couldn’t be more diverse. From a boy who had fallen in love with his best friend which had send him into an identity crisis over to a girl who was failing her classes because she claimed the professor hated her to a freshman who wanted to apply for a fraternity but was scared because of the rumors surrounding them which the DJs quickly debunked since they both were in the same fraternity. In the end they had to cut themselves short, asking their viewers to vote on a poll they would make if people wanted a whole Tuesday episode surrounding fraternities.

“So.” “So,” Johnny copied his friend. “We’re almost at the end of our time with you guys. We couldn’t get through all of your submissions but we hope our team picked a few good ones and at least some of you could get some advice.” “As always you’re free to send us your own stories to our e-mail [email protected] to get some advice next Thursday from your favorite DJs: John-D.” “And Jae-D. Every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday on your campus radio on 127mHz. On NCT-“ “Night Night,” they said their ending together and just like every night with them, you said goodnight to your computer screen, closing the tab which draped your little apartment in silence. Sighing loudly, you looked over your notes that needed a little more work if you wanted to make a good first impression on your fellow students tomorrow. Because you couldn’t stand the silence, you opened your Spotify to play the NCT Night Night playlist Johnny and Jaehyun had made with the songs that had been recommended to them, still missing the new additions from tonight.

The next morning found you in your literature class, sitting two rows behind Johnny, staring at the back of his head while doodling on your paper rather than taking notes on whatever the professor was saying. If you were to let your eyes wander, you’d see that almost everyone in the big room was paying as much or even less attention as you were; the students in different states of excitement and anxiety over the group projects he had yet to announce. “I’m sorry professor,” Johnny’s voice suddenly cut through the room, “I’m sure you have already noticed that no one is paying attention to whatever you’re trying to teach us right now. Could you please just announce the groups for the project?” That moment you swore you would be able to hear a pin drop until your eccentric professor chuckled lowly. “I like you, Suh. I was waiting for someone to mention it,” he spoke, getting the dreaded list out of his bag, “Listen closely now, you’ll be assigned in groups of four and each group will get a specific novel to work on. Deadline will be by the end of the semester and your individual paper combined with the group presentation will make up 40% of your final grade.” That made a bunch of people, including you, gasp out loudly. A group project with this much credit to your final grade was always dreaded. “I don’t want to hear any complaints, that’s how it’s always been. Now listen carefully, I won’t repeat myself but the list will be hung on our blackboard as well.” With that being said, the professor began listing names and novels in the most monotone voice he could muster. To say you were basically vibrating off of your seat was an understatement when he got further and further down the list and neither yours nor Johnny’s name had been called yet. “And lastly, an all-time favorite: Romeo and Juliet.” You didn’t even register anything else after the professor had announced that the group featured both Johnny and you along with two other students you didn’t know. Your brain was reduced to static noise while everyone else was getting up around you to pick up the books that had already been stacked in a corner, probably by a poor TA. Only when a person bumped into you, you broke from your stupor to quickly pick up your stuff as well to hurry down to steps to where a crowd of students had already gathered.

Luckily Johnny towered over most of the other students and you could easily spot him and the rest of your group that were two other boys you didn’t recognize. “Hey, you’re the last one we were missing,” Johnny smiled and handed you over your copy of the book. “Y... Yeah, sorry for making you wait,” you stuttered, clutching the small book tightly in your hands. “No big deal,” Johnny played it off, “Do any of you have any more classes today?” When everyone declined, you all agreed that you should get a head start on your project as it would be hard to make a good project out of such an overused love story. While walking over to the student center to decide on a concept, conversation flowed easily between the four of you even though you were still really nervous to be around Johnny. God, you really hoped he didn’t think you were stupid or something just because you were nervous.

The little study session went by in a blur and only further confirmed that you were so whipped for Johnny it wasn’t even funny anymore. You found yourself attentively listening to all of his ideas and laughing at every of his stupid little jokes and only mildly spacing out while looking at Johnny when the others were discussing ideas which had led to one or two mildly embarrassing situations where you would lose track of what you were actually discussing, your mind blank of any input when they asked for your opinion.

Soon you found yourself parting ways with your groupmates, leaving you and Johnny alone because his frat house and your little apartment were located in the same general direction. “Anything fun you’re doing this evening?” Johnny asked, trying to make some light conversation to fill the silence. “No, I’ll just binge watch some shows maybe or listen to the campus radio,” you shrugged it off. While today’s show wasn’t your favorite, you quite liked the DJs soft and gentle voice. “You listen to the campus radio? I have a show on there,” Johnny smiled. “I like listening to you and Jaehyun,” you confessed, trying to fight the heat that was licking at your cheeks. “Oh.” “You seem surprised.” “Yeah, it kind of still seems weird that people enjoy listening to Jae and me rambling for hours on end. You know with him it just feels like I’m hanging out with my brother rather than work.” “Your voices are really soothing, you know,” you tried to explain what you were feeling when listing to them, “And your friendship is kind of adorable. Like we can feel how much you care about each other and you always genuinely try to help your listeners without making fun of them.” For a while Johnny didn’t say anything and you thought you had fucked it up, that he thought you were weird now. “Thank you,” he suddenly said. “Huh?” “It means a lot hearing that. We do lurk on Twitter to see what people think of our show but hearing it like this is something else entirely.” “It’s nothing,” you mused, playfully hitting his arm, “No need to get this soft.” “Hey,” he laughed, “I’ll have you know that I am 180 centimeters of walking softness despite what people might say about me.” Smiling softly you caught his eyes for the first time since you two had started walking and the way his honey eyes were smiling back at you momentarily took your breath away.

“I- My room is right around here, sooooo,” you stuttered. “It was nice working with you. Even though you were spacing out half the time,” Johnny teased, “Thinking about a special someone?” You. The word sat on the tip of your tongue, the low light of the afternoon sun making you bolder than you actually were and Johnny just made you feel incredibly comfortable. “No... No- I- I’m single.” “A crush then?” “Something like that,” you mumbled, your fingers nervously playing with the hem of your jacket. “Talk to him. Or her. Or them,” Johnny advised. “I really can’t,” you sighed, “He doesn’t even know I exist.” “Well you don’t need to confess your undying love for him,” he laughed, not knowing he was the boy in question, “Just you know. Casually talk to him. Get to know him.” “I’ll try?” “Is that a question?” “Yeah?” “Have more confidence in yourself,” he gently nudged you, “You’re nice and very easy to talk to.” “Nice... Wow.” “Shut up,” he laughed, “I usually give better compliments but I have yet to get to know you better.” “Would you... Would you even want that?” “Sure,” Johnny shrugged and your heart skipped a couple of beats, “I have to get going or everybody will already be drunk when I arrive. So... I’ll see you in class? And you’ll hear me on Sunday?” “Yeah sure. Don’t drink too much or you will be miserable all show like last week,” you giggled. “Don’t remind me,” he groaned, “I’m never going to drink tequila on a Saturday ever again.” “Goodbye Johnny,” you smiled, really liking how his name sounded when you said it out loud. “Bye,” he waved before going his way.

Once you were sure he was out of hearing distance, you let out a little happy squeak and jumped up and down excitedly. You did it. You had actually done it. You had talked to your crush. And managed to not make a complete fool out of yourself in front of him. Which was a win in your books. A huge win. With a little spring in your steps, you stepped by one of your favorite pizza places to treat yourself before heading home where you spend your evening daydreaming about none other than Johnny while watching reruns of old dramas.

“Hi, I’m Jae-D.” “And I am John-D. Welcome to NCT-“ “Night Night.” “John-D.” “Yes, Jae-D,” Johnny chuckled. “It’s Thursday again which means it’s time to tend to our listener’s worries,” Jaehyun read off of the script, not getting distracted by his friend’s antics, “And today is a very special episode.” “Special?” Jaehyun barely repressed to roll his eyes at his friend’s over-exaggerated acting before continuing: “Yes, since tomorrow is a day off for all students, we have decided to make this episode extra lengthy and-“ he shortly stopped to flash the camera a peace sign, “Viewable despite it being Thursday.” “Do we look okay?” Johnny laughed, checking himself out in the video that was playing on one of their monitors. “Aaaaah, the comments say we look good tonight, thank you,” Jaehyun mused.

And they really did. Not that either of them had to do a whole lot to look good but today they were both wearing white button-downs with their sleeves rolled up to expose their forearms. Jaehyun had even gone so far as to put on some fake glasses. “And if you’re following us on our Twitter you also already know that this week it’s all about love on our campus radio and our show today is no exception,” Johnny read his part of the script. “Today John-D and Jae-D are Loveholics, trying our very best to help you with your problems surrounding love,” Jaehyun completed, “You can send in song recommendations through the hashtag JohnJaeLoveholic just like taryn1026 did – I hope I said that right – but they recommended Paris in the Rain by Lauv to set the mood for today.”

The soft tunes of the song made you relax a little into your sofa where you had chosen to watch today’s episode of NCT Night Night. You had to say that you were kind of nervous for today’s episode. Just like every week you had written your letter to Johnny, telling him about your week and cheering him on for your group project. At this point it should have been pretty obvious just who exactly you were and judging by how Johnny was acting towards you, his flirting leaving you flustered after your study sessions and your group mates mildly annoyed, he seemed to already have put together the pieces. But yesterday while writing your letter you had felt extra bold (and maybe also extra riled up and horny from Johnny’s shameless flirting) and had written him a message that should confirm all his suspicions and would hopefully lead him straight to you and into your bed. But until the end of the show or at least until they read your letter, which you really hoped they did today as well, you had to wait sitting in your apartment, for once not in comfortable clothes but in a nice shirt and pants.

“That was Paris in the Rain by Lauv, recommended to us by taryn1026 through our Twitter with the hashtag JohnJaeLoveholic,” Johnny’s raspy voice filled your apartment when he leaned close to the mic, “Jae-D are you ready to make some love happen?” “I already had my love juice,” Jaehyun answered, showing his pink Starbucks drink to the camera, “And my reading glasses are on.” As to prove his point, he hiked his glasses up his nose before scratching his eye through the holes in the frame, making both DJs chuckle. For the next hour Johnny and Jaehyun tried to solve several relationship dramas as well as a very tricky friends-with-benefits situation and telling a boy to break up with his cheating girlfriend which had been a rather heartbreaking discussion. “So after this,” Jaehyun sighed, “Let’s play another song recommendation. Burtonized has sent in a very fitting song, I hope you all don’t mind a little Korean: It’s God Damn by I.M – a song about heartbreak.”

While the foreign song was playing, the two DJs stretched their backs and sipped on their respective drinks: Jaehyun still on his pink sugar concoction and Johnny already on his second iced Americano. Jaehyun must have found something funny on his phone, nudging his friend to look at him but Johnny was busy typing away on his own, only acknowledging his friend after he had typed his message. Just after that, your own phone buzzed with a message, showing Johnny’s name on the screen.

From: Johnny Are you watching our show?

To: Johnny Sure, you look good today

From: Johnny Make sure to listen closely ;)

“That was God Damn by I.M suggested by burtonized over our Twitter hashtag JohnJaeLoveholic,” Jaehyun’s smooth voice tore you from your spiraling thoughts about the winking face Johnny had sent. “Sadly our show is coming to an end even with our extended airtime.” “But John-D a very important letter is still missing before we close our show. Dare I say it could be the highlight of our show,” Jaehyun joked, already playing the cheesy music he was always playing when Johnny would read your letters. “You’re right Jae-D my lovely secret admirer has sent in another letter,” Johnny mused, arranging himself so he could read the printed out letter while being as close as possible to the mic for it to pick up the rasp in his voice, “Happy Thursday John-D, I hope your week has been more exciting than mine. I have just been going from class to class without much thought, the only high points are my group meetings for the group project we have to hand in soon – That seems very familiar, baby – But since today is all about love, I’ll tell you about a little problem I have: – get your love juice ready, Jae – There is this boy in my group. And boy isn’t really the right word to describe him, he’s a man really,” at that Johnny couldn’t hold back a low chuckle, “I’m sorry, I’ll be serious – And he is flirting with me. Has been for a couple of weeks now. And it has gotten to the point where our groupmates are kind of annoyed at us. He has also walked me home a couple of times but he never so much as touched me. At this point I am so frustrated with him. Is he just playing with me? Or is his mouth bigger than his actions actually are? He has been riling me up all day today and I was ready to let him have his way with me but he only wished me goodnight and left again, leaving me to deal with what he had done all by myself – oh wow, I,” Johnny stuttered, sharing a gaze with his friend who was only barely repressing his laughter, “Wow, okay, I hope we’re in the good for reading this out and it’s late enough,” clearing his voice and raking a hand through his hair, Johnny continued, “John-D I hope this man hears what he has done to me and will deal with the consequences of his actions. Would you play Animal by Jin Yosef and RIELL for me? Just in case this letter hasn’t gotten my point across? – Y... Yeah sure, darling. We’ll play that once our show is over.”

“So John-D,” Jaehyun grinned while loudly slurping on his ‘love juice’, “What would you advice your secret admirer to do about this problem?” “Well if I were her,” Johnny started, his gaze going straight to the camera where he knew you were watching and it felt like he was looking straight into your soul, “I’d wait for him. I’m pretty sure he can prove that his actions speak even louder than his words.” For a while it was quiet between the two DJs, safe for Jaehyun’s obnoxiously loud slurping noises but even if they would have been saying anything, you weren’t sure if you could have comprehended any words with how furiously your heart was beating. “Anyways,” Jaehyun eventually broke the silence once he was sure there was nothing left in his ‘love juice’, “I’m afraid that was it for tonight. This has been your extra lengthy episode of Jae-D and John-D and we will leave you with this wonderful song recommendation: Animal by Jin Yosef and RIELL. If you’ve liked today’s show, we’re here every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday night on your campus radio on 127mHz to listen to all of your worries on NCT-“ “Night Night,” Johnny joined in and they both waved into the camera as your song of choice started playing. The video stream didn’t cut off immediately, showing the boys gathering their things and if your eyes weren’t betraying you, you swore you saw Johnny tense up when the song turned a little more explicit. The two DJs waved to the camera one last time before the stream cut off, leaving the screen of your laptop dark.

That was when it dawned on you what you had done. Shit. With how Johnny had sounded, you probably had about fifteen to twenty minutes until he would be at your doorstep. Oh god. Shit. Taking a couple of deep breaths, you tried to ground yourself before hurriedly closing your laptop and cleaning everything that seemed messy in your little one-room apartment. That was until you heard a knock on your door.

With shaky hands, you slowly opened the door and while you knew who would be standing on the other side, you weren’t ready for how he was going to look like: Johnny was leaning against the doorway casually with his arms crossed over his chest so the tight button-down he was wearing would strain over the planes of his chest muscles but what really reeled you in was how dark his eyes looked when he raked them over your body. “Good evening miss,” he drawled. “Hi,” you breathed. “Tell me what you want so I’m not misinterpreting any of this,” Johnny all but growled, one of his hands coming up to cup your face. “I want you to have me.” If you thought his eyes were dark before, they turned into bottomless black orbs once the words had left your lips. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, baby.” “Please,” you whimpered and that seemed to break Johnny’s resolve as he pulled you close to him and all but crashed his lips into yours. The kiss wasn’t delicate in any way, shape or form with how Johnny was licking into your mouth the second a moan left your lips. His tongue was intertwining with yours messily and in no time both of you were panting into each other’s mouths. “Inside. Now,” you rasped. “All with due time,” Johnny chuckled but let you pull him into your apartment, slamming the door shut to crowd you against it, one of his strong thighs slipping between your legs like it belonged there, “If you’re a good girl and listen well, I’ll give you anything you want.” “Fuck,” you cursed before slamming your lips together again, a new neediness bleeding into the kiss as you tugged on the longer strands of hair at the back of Johnny’s neck which made him growl lowly. “Anything off-limits?” Johnny breathed into your skin as he kissed down your neck to suck a mark there while his hands were busy pulling your shirt from your pants so he could rake them over your naked skin. “Just,” you had to cut yourself off with a moan, “Don’t be mean to me.” “Never,” he promised, “You’ll be my pillow princess.” His sweet words were in stark contrast to how hard his hands were gripping your hips and how his teeth were grazing over your neck that must be littered with marks already. “Take me to bed,” you heaved breathlessly, positive your legs would give out if it wasn’t for Johnny holding you up.

Listening to your demand, he slowly started walking you backwards towards your bed until the two of you were toppling down on top of the covers, his lips never leaving your skin. Whoever had spread the rumors about Johnny being a great lover had been absolutely right, he knew just how to touch you to have you gasping for air and judging by the grin on his lips he hadn’t even started yet. “Please,” you whimpered, arching into his touch, not exactly sure what exactly you were asking for but Johnny seemed to know all the better when he freed you from your top and pants to leave you in your matching lace set while he was still fully clothed in his by now wrinkled button-up and pants. “All for me?” He chuckled and pressed a kiss right between the valley of your breasts, his big hands cupping the soft flesh to squeeze it gently. “Have me,” you gasped out and you could feel the growl he let out vibrating where you were pressed together. “I’m going to ruin you,” Johnny promised, pulling down the cups of your bra to wrap his plush lips around one of your nipples to tease the soft nub until it hardened under his ministrations, sending waves of pleasure down your spine and straight to your core where you could feel your wetness starting to seep into the fabric of your panties. “Johnny,” you mewled and arched into his every touch, his calloused fingertips setting your skin alight when he let them travel down your body to tease over your lower stomach. As if by reflex, you let your thighs fall open for him to finally touch you where you needed him the most. “Such a good girl,” he smiled, blowing cold air over your spit-slicked nipple to watch you squirm beneath him. Your remark got stuck in your throat when he finally cupped you through your panties, feeling how damp the fabric had already become. “Naughty,” he chuckled, his eyes never leaving your face as he circled your clit through the fabric, watching your eyes fluttering shut when his gaze became too intense.

“Johnny,” you sighed, forgetting all other words except for his name. “Relax, princess,” he rasped and kissed his way down your body, leaving love bites on the sensitive skin of your stomach and thighs that shook with anticipation. If you’d say you hadn’t dreamed about his lips on you like this, you would lie and you weren’t going to miss the sight of this for nothing. Fighting back the fog that had started to cloud your mind, you forced your eyes open to look down to where he had settled between your open thighs to find him staring right back at you. “Good girl,” he praised you again before pressing a kiss over your clothed sex that made your head fall back already, the anticipation of what was to come making you push up your hips which made Johnny chuckle lowly. He didn’t leave you any time to feel embarrassed by how needy you were when he hooked your panties to the side unceremoniously and licked a broad stripe up your center, tasting your arousal. “Oh fuck,” you breathed out, your hands flying down to tangle them in the long strands of his hair. Johnny worked his tongue in slow and clever strokes, leaving your mind reeling with pleasure and taking his time to take you apart piece by piece, not even paying attention to your leaking center or your aching clit. But when he did wrap his lips around your clit to gently suck on the nub, your mind almost went numb with how intense his touch was, your thighs clamping shut around him. To make it even worse, he started humming around you while prying your thighs back open, holding you down with his large hands. You felt your orgasm approach almost embarrassingly fast now that he was altering between teasing your clit with his tongue, lips and even his teeth and fucking your velvety walls with his tongue, setting your nerve endings on fire. “Johnny I’m close,” you warned him but instead of slowing down, he stretched his jaw wide to press his tongue further into you, his nose bumping into your clit in the process and with the combined sensation and his doubled effort, it took no time for your first orgasm of the night to wash over you, a scream of his name leaving your lips as you shook through it, your mind going equally as numb as your legs.

When you came back to it, Johnny had straightened up between your legs and he was grinning down at you while he was unbuttoning his shirt, his face still shiny with your arousal. “That was the first one,” he spoke darkly. “Come here,” you whined, making grabby hands for him until he took pity on you and covered your body with his before connecting your lips in a bruising kiss. You could still taste yourself on his lips but that somehow just made it even hotter.

“Want you inside me,” you panted against his lips when Johnny broke the kiss in favor of raking his teeth over your racing pulse. “Yeah?” He rasped and ground his hips down into yours, making you feel him strain against the fabric of his pants. “Need it,” you moaned at the sweet friction. “Think you can take me?” He laughed as he leaned back on his hunches to pop open the button of his pants, pulling down the zipper agonizingly slow. With wide eyes you watched him push his pants down his narrow hips, leaving him in just his navy boxers that showed the sizable imprint of his hard cock, the fabric against the head dark from where he had leaked precum. Chuckling, he stroked over the outline and just the sight alone made your mouth water. “Show me,” you breathed, spreading your thighs so he could see your needy core, clenching around nothing. “Hmm,” he hummed, dragging one of his fingers that wasn’t preoccupied with teasing himself through the mess of arousal and his saliva between your legs, only barely dipping it into you to feel the muscles trying to suck him inside. “Don’t tease me,” you whined high in your throat. “But I like seeing you squirm,” Johnny grinned but took mercy on you and sunk his finger into you up to the knuckle, gently pumping it inside you. Still sensitive from how intense your last orgasm had been, you were torn between pulling away and wanting more but Johnny made the decision for you when he pulled his finger out, wiping your arousal onto your thigh.

“Eyes on me,” he commanded and finally freed his cock from his briefs. “Fuck.” The curse left your lips without even noticing at the sight of his flushed cock, too heavy to properly stand up against his toned abs. The tip was tinted red and shiny with precum that Johnny generously spread down that whole length, his eyes not leaving yours as you watched him lazily jerk himself. “Like what you see?” You eagerly nodded your head. “Want it inside me.” “Yeah? Show me.”

Throwing all caution out of the window, you quickly sucked two of your fingers between your lips before guiding them to your weeping core to slip them inside you, letting out an over-exaggerated moan as you crooked them. “Oh you’re so naughty, baby,” Johnny groaned, squeezing the base of his cock tightly as he watched you fingering yourself and if you had even one coherent thought left in your head, you’d have the decency to be embarrassed because of how intensely he was staring. “It’s not enough,” you pouted, pulling your fingers free and spreading them to look at the slick covering them, “I’m so wet for you.” “Such a dirty mouth,” he groaned, quickly grabbing his pants to fish a condom from his wallet to roll over his hard length. “Please, Johnny,” you hiccupped, winding your legs around his waist to pull him closer to you. “Sssh, princess,” he soothed you, running his hands over your torso before bending down to press tender kisses to your stomach, “I’ll take care of you.” “Please kiss me.”

Dropping his elbows next to your head to support his weight, he covered your body with his and caught your lips in a kiss much too tender for your current situation, taking his time to explore your mouth until you were perfectly pliant beneath him. “Tell me if it hurts,” he whispered into the small space between you while he snaked a hand between your bodies to guide his cock to your core. When the head slipped in without much resistance, both of you let out twin moans of pleasure. Painstakingly slowly Johnny pushed inside you, centimeter by centimeter until his hips were flush to yours. “Breathe, princess,” he reminded you because you indeed had held your breath and had buried your nails in his biceps. “Shit, you’re big,” you cursed. “So I’ve been told,” Johnny chuckled and peppered your face and neck with little kisses while he slowly ground his hips so you could get used to him inside you.

“Move,” you demanded after a while. “What’s the magic word baby?” He grinned. “Please, Johnny,” you whimpered, clenching down on him. “Once more.” “Don’t make me beg.” “But you sound so pretty when you do,” he chuckled, only barely moving his hips. “Johnny please,” you whined, trying your best to move on his cock on your own but the angle was just not working out. “Oh, you want to do the work?” “I want you to move,” you groaned, pawing at his chest.

“But I think you’d look so pretty riding my cock,” Johnny rasped and in one fluid movement, he had sat up and pulled you onto his lap. Shit, it felt like he was even deeper now. “Come on, princess.” Whining, you wound your arms around his shoulders and pulled your legs beneath you so you could lift your hips up to make his cock smoothly slide out, the friction just right before you slowly dropped back down again, earning you an appreciative groan from Johnny. “That’s right, baby,” he praised you as you slowly found a comfortable pace, swiveling your hips until the angle was just right. Tightening the grip you had on his shoulders to use it as leverage, you began riding him in earnest, impaling yourself on his cock over and over again until your head was spinning and your thighs started to burn. “Come on, doll,” Johnny grinned, catching one of your nipples between his lips. Whining, you rolled your hips faster until your thighs began shaking. “Need help?” He just grinned, his big hands holding onto your hips to help you move up and down his cock at a steadier pace. “Please Johnny,” you hiccupped, hiding your face in his neck to ground yourself, “Please fuck me.” “Am I not doing just that?” He chuckled, filthily grinding his cock inside you. “Do it right,” you panted into his skin, “Fuck me like you mean it.”

“Then get on your hands and knees for me, baby.” He didn’t have to tell you twice, it was almost comical how quickly you obeyed his command and arched your back for him. “Hmm, that’s it,” he praised you, tracing the curve of your spine with his hands until he reached the space between your shoulder blades where he gently pushed down to make you arch even further. “So good and pliant for me, just waiting to be filled.” “Please,” you just whined again, past the point of caring about how pathetic you sounded, begging for his cock. “Say it baby,” he demanded, slapping his cock against your wet folds. “Please fuck me Johnny. Please. I want your cock inside me so badly. Want you to fuck me until I can’t even remember my own name anymore. Please I need it. I-“ your frantic rambling got cut off by the surprised moan leaving your lips as he thrust into you without any warning. “Don’t hold back baby,” Johnny rasped before gripping your hips tightly to finally fuck you in earnest, the sound of skin slapping together loud in the otherwise silent room. “God, your ass looks amazing,” he moaned, burying himself in your tight heat over and over again, mesmerized by how his cock was glistening in the low light and how easily your body opened up for him, “You’re basically made to take my cock.” You could only mewl at his dirty words and fist the sheets tightly in your hands as you tried to meet his thrusts as best as you could while you felt like you got your soul fucked right out of you.

“Feels so good,” you slurred when you felt the familiar knot in your stomach ready to snap, clenching around Johnny’s cock. “God baby, if you keep clenching like that I’m gonna cum,” Johnny cursed, grabbing you by the neck to pull you up against his chest, the pace of his hips only getting faster. “Please Johnny. Want it inside,” you whined, letting him use your body how he wanted to relish in the low moans he let out. “You want me to fill you up baby?” “Want it so bad, Johnny,” you mewled. “Then cum for me. Cum on my cock and I’ll give you anything you want.” And oh god. You had never thought that the strained sound of a couple of words could be enough to actually trip you over the edge but the rasp in Johnny’s voice had you falling apart in his arms, your orgasm ripping through you so hard it had your thighs shaking. “Such a good girl,” Johnny praised you before he let out a low guttural moan and fucked into you once – then twice – before his hips came to a halt, emptying his cum inside the condom.

For a while you two just panted loudly before Johnny gently laid you back down onto the mattress, chuckling lowly when you whined at the loss of his cock. “Shit,” you giggled while he quickly got rid of the condom, throwing it in the general direction of your trashcan. So tender you could have missed it, Johnny pressed a row of kisses down your spine until he reached the swell of your ass. “Cuddle me,” you pouted, making grabby hands at him. “We’re sweaty, princess,” he laughed but gave in when you kept pouting. “I don’t care,” you whined, fitting your head beneath his, wrapping your arms and legs around his body to cling to him like a koala. “You’re cute,” he smiled, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“For how long did you know?” “Know what?” Johnny asked, clearly confused. “That I was your secret admirer.” “I didn’t.” “It was so obvious,” you groaned. “Okay maybe I got a hunch after we started that group project. But you never said anything.” “What was I supposed to say? Oh Johnny, by the way, I’m the one who has been writing you cringey love letters for like half a year already. Please go out with me?” That made Johnny laugh, the sound melodic in the quiet of your room. “I would have said yes, you know?” He spoke lowly, “I’ll miss your letters.” “What makes you think I will stop writing them?” “Because you can tell me all that stuff in person now when we go on dates.” “We’ll go on dates?” “That’s what people do when they like each other, princess,” Johnny chuckled, “And I really like you. Both as my secret admirer and my classmate.” “Oh my god stop,” you whined, hiding your hot face in his chest, feeling shy all of a sudden while Johnny was just laughing.

“I like you too,” you eventually mumbled once it had gotten quiet again. “I figured,” he teased you. “I changed my mind,” you immediately shot back, rising from where you were cuddled into his chest but every other protest died on your tongue when you saw his dreamy expression, his honey eyes finding yours and completely ignoring the fact that you were still very much naked. “Date me,” he said. “Okay,” you answered, easily meeting his lips in a sweet kiss that wouldn’t be the last one you two shared tonight.

“Hello and welcome back, that was Middle Of The Night by Monsta X, suggested to us by raibebe through our Twitter with the hashtag JonJaeLoveTalk. We’re your DJ’s John-D.” “And Jae-D on NCT Night Night. Hello again to all of our listeners. John-D.” “Yes Jae-D,” Johnny chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Something is off today. I looked through our mail and there was no letter from your secret admirer.” “Oh really,” he feigned surprise. “Either they didn’t send anything in or our director got sick of the pining.” “I can calm you right back down Jae-D,” Johnny smiled, “Because she simply doesn’t need to send any more letters. I finally found her.” “No way. For real? And you didn’t tell me? I have to find out through our radio show? Friendship is dead,” Jaehyun sighed dramatically and you couldn’t help but chuckle. “Jae-D you know you’ll always be the number one in my heart, you know that.” At that Jaehyun let out fake gagging noises that made both friends chuckle.

“No but for real. I finally found her and asked her out. It’s going great so yeah,” Johnny shrugged, “In case you’re listening baby: I’m dropping by later and bring sushi.” “This is so domestic already,” Jaehyun sighed dramatically, “Where is my secret admirer?” “Maybe you could find love as well if you stopped acting like the textbook example of a frat boy.” “What is that even supposed to mean?”

Smiling, you leaned back on your sofa and listened to your boyfriend bickering with his best friend. Boyfriend. That sounded good even though it still felt unreal. Love Letters weren’t dead after all it seemed.

1K notes · View notes

littlefreya · 4 years ago

Text

Prince Of Darkness

Summary: There'll be no escape tonight, the devil always gets what he desires.

Pairing: Devil!August Walker x Unnamed OFC (3rd person pov)

Word count: 6k

Warnings: 18+, DARK! NonCon, kidnapping, stalking, breeding, exhibitionism, loss of virginity, supernatural stuff, sex in a cathedral, mention of heaven and hell. Please proceed with caution.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own

A/N: I have put a lot of effort into this story, and I’m really anxious af. We all like to see August as a demon, but I decided to go all the way... And I’m nervous at your response and going to die after hitting submit. So bye.

Many thanks to the love of my life @agniavateira, for support, brainstorm and beta. And to @crimsonrae and @wondersofdreaming who held my hand.

Please give feedback and reblog if you enjoyed my work. 🖤

Title: Prince of Darkness

Blood painted the streets, courtesy of the blinding scarlet lights that danced upon gravel and tar before dwindling into darkness. The soft, beaming glow pulsed with the muffled beats of a monotonous song that played inside the luxurious nightclub. Like thundering war drums, it rumbled in the ears of the elegant man who stood along the shadows.

Leaning against the cement, he took a sip from a glass of spiced Bordeaux and brushed an index finger over his thick moustache to wipe away misguided droplets of wine.

‘How could anyone enjoy this abomination?’ He wondered with a guttural groan, never quite grasping this electronic noise thing; but then again August was older than this music, and his tastes far exceeded cheap and trivial antics. He was a man driven by the appetite for destruction and forbidden delights, and tonight, he was finally about to obtain both. After decades of anticipation, the succulent fruit was ready to be plucked.

Oh, what an intoxicating and delicious mist his unsuspecting beloved emanated, setting his heart aflame with her sheer ripeness.

‘It’s been so long, so painfully long.’

Time had lost its meaning as he waited, curving and swerving into a stream of an infinite river flowing with decay and death.

But as the old saying went: all haste comes from the devil.

So the man lingered against the wall, a sparkle enkindled and crackled in his eyes, morphing into black wells whilst the waves of her honey-liqueured ambrosia grew pungent, seeping through his airways and sinking in his throat. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, revelling in the sound of harsh tapping heels that echoed louder with every step until she came summoned into the naked wilderness of the city street.

‘Beautiful and innocent as the garden of Eden. Of course, of course...’

The stranger scrutinised the young woman with another sip from his wine and a bite of great intrigue - but stoicism and silence, for now, were his most valuable allies.

Clad in a lithe black dress and a stylish leather jacket to keep herself warm from the chill autumn breeze, she fished for the mobile device in her purse while distress washed her wrinkling brow. Illuminated by the bright screen, her face sulked as for the seventh time in the last 30 minutes, her attempt to find an Uber bore no success whatsoever.

Was there something about tonight that all drivers were kept occupied, or had her luck simply run dry?

Showing her face to the moonlit sky, she sighed in great frustration. This must have been fate’s retribution to a mindless bad decision; she should have left with her friends, but staying alone to fruitlessly catch the eye of the uncaring bartender seemed more significant as the buzz of alcohol dimmed any ray of logic. Now deep into the night, walking home alone didn’t appear to be the most sympathetic solution, yet it occurred to her that there wasn’t much of choice.

“You seem distressed.”

Equal to a dark chant sputtering words of witchcraft, the low yet incredibly soft baritone of his voice slithered from the corner and crept down her spine with icy scales. A lurching hollow flared within her gut, her neck seized by the tight grip of a serpentine phantom.

His vibrato sounded like a voice that called her through a dream she never had before; despite the unsettling arctic spasm gyrating through her shaky limbs, it lured her to return a stare and meet the cryptic face behind the seducing chant.

Two sharp glaciers glimmered at her as the stranger sauntered into the penumbra, momentarily lit by another flash of neon red that broke onto his face and highlighted his ethereal features. Her lips drew open, her nipples hardening against the fabric of her dress as a shiver ran through her. To say that the stranger was handsome would be an understatement, as it almost seemed as if he was ‘designed’ by a sculptor - carved cheeks led a path to slightly pouted lips, and a stark, dimpled chin was shadowed by dark stubble. His chocolate-brown hair was elegantly combed to the side, with a couple of large lustrous locks gently nestling over his brow.

Though it wasn’t his good looks that left her riddled with prickly goosebumps, but the unprecedented magnetic haul that made her feel as if she was physically drawn toward this mysterious man.

Frightened by the unbidden reaction of her own body, she quickly retreated to gawk at the phone and provided no answer to his inquiry. A strange yearning to submit grew between her clenching thighs, a primal response to his striking looks and charms.

But she killed the seed before it set roots in her flesh.

‘They said Ted Bundy was charming as well…’ she mused. Frivolous as she wanted to be, getting murdered was undoubtedly not among her plans tonight.

Revelling in her silent reply with an arched brow, he tilted his head when a blinding flicker abruptly caught his keen eye. Kissed by the pale moonlight’s beam, a small silver cross rested upon her collarbone. His sharp fangs begged to peek with sardonic amusement, but he kept his lips clamped, not wishing to scare her too soon.

There was to be plenty of that later...

“May I offer you my help, sweetling?”

Threading his long fingers between the smooth stem and clasping them around the bowl, he lowered the glass to the side of his hip, dragging the girl’s unwilling eye to the healthy bulge in his groin.

Her lips drew open as a surge of staggering heat flushed at her apex.

It seemed enormous...

“Name’s August, like the emperor, but you can call me whatever your heart desires...”

Embers burnt at her cheeks; in her belly, the odd mystical calling continued weaving at her core in an urge to accept whatever it was he had to offer. Her eyes warred to tear her gaze away from his nether region as her lashes fluttered to meet the abysmal glance that bestowed both frost and fire through her tendons.

There was something archaically familiar about this man as if she knew him before the days had names. Yet she swore, it was the first time she ever saw his striking face.

“I can take you wherever you need to go.”

Breath laced with wine titillated her nostrils as the words spilt from his lips, whilst another crimson ray broke upon the marble of his face. Never had he urged, but instead suggested with a tongue soaked with honey. Still, a blazing aura of danger encircled him. And even though the very natural fear of walking home alone grappled her, it still seemed like a much better plan than entrusting her life to a stranger who was twice her size.

Deciding to keep her tongue knotted, she turned and began striding away. ‘Best not to engage him,’ she thought, but once she moved past his bulky figure, her heart suddenly picked up its pace and her legs refused to function as if they no longer belonged to her.

Seconds stretched into eternity. The thought that this civilised savage will assail her and drag her into the night scratched at the back of her head. But the worst of it was the simmering throb. Unforgiving, like gathering storm clouds, it thundered the closer she walked by him and then gradually died out as she finally managed to move away and free herself from this invisible bond.

Savouring the final drop of wine, August watched amused as the frightened little lamb quickly oscillated on her feet, scampering into the horrors offered by the dark. It was funny how fear made animals act so heedlessly and rush straight into the burning heart of peril.

A toothy grin peaked his chiselled cheeks. Always the gentleman, he shifted from the concrete, discarding the glass carelessly to shatter on the sidewalk. His sinew stretched in a relaxed ripple of an apex predator before he straightened both vest and jacket and stroked his thick moustache.

Though her heavenly fragrance still soaked the air, the girl was already gone from normal eyesight. It was a pity to see her leave, yet there was no need for him to rush.

There was never really a choice for her.

Strangely, the night kept growing unnaturally darker. A great ocean of blackness and crystalised stars spread from above, casting looming shadows across the tall buildings that resembled a maw filled with rotten teeth. The tepid wind that blew between the vast concrete monoliths was nothing but the breath of a mythical beast intoning her name through the shadows.

Clawing at her forearms, she meandered through the inert street with a wary eye. Desolate neon signs flickered hauntingly, bequeathing a vibrant beacon of dread over the shimmering, onyx road. Not a living soul was in sight as if the world descended into stillness, dominated by an eerie, dead silence save for the harsh echo of her hasty heels. And yet, the long path felt anything but lifeless. With every step landed on the ground, she could sense the movement beneath the surface: swarming vile things, slippery and scaled. Unseen by the human eye, they hissed dirty little secrets and slithered with sinister hunger, drizzling down their fangs.

‘You can already feel me inside you, can’t you sweetling…’ Remaining hidden, he had to admit that watching the little lamb leap shivering into the slaughter has been somewhat of foreplay.

A veil of fumes emitted from her parted lips. The air became colder, summoning a terrifying truth that made her lungs clench around the black void that abruptly filled them with the notion that maybe... maybe… that chill, liquid-like thing that threatened to touch her ankle wasn’t just in her crazy imagination.

There was something out there, something undeniably familiar. This unusual gust of wind brushing at her nape has accompanied her since she could remember herself, an unsettling breeze bidding that evil lurked between the creases, holding its sinewy fingers clasped together while waiting for her to answer his hushed calling.

‘And once you finally answer, there is no turning back…’

Fear gnawed its frosty fangs at her bones, puncturing tiny painful cavities that were needles in her flesh. Tonight, of all nights, the same hazy feeling became stronger than ever before. Deep inside, she knew she would meet her end. Pressing the oily pads of her fingers at the sharp corners of her pendant, she inhaled and chanted a prayer, refusing to succumb to the noxious malice when a frozen pin pierced her heart.

Like the lark calling on the dawn, an unbidden chant carried her name.

Drenched with frigid sweat, she exhumed a shuddering breath, praying to God that it was only her imagination playing tricks on her ears.

‘The greatest trick he ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.’

Indeed in the darkness, leered the beast. All teeth and malicious glee, August moved from one shadow to another, feasting on the aphrodisiac that was the mixture of her harrowing terror and unveiled desire. If only she knew the trail her scent left for him to follow - he could smell her from miles away.

The little flower between her legs began blooming the moment their entities finally encountered one another, and it was his ancient name her dew had dripped for.

‘My sweet little thing, tonight I will finally grant you a purpose...’

Like a hound awakened from a deep slumber, he flexed his bulging muscles and tailed her in utter silence. The same spell that burnt in her core seethed the blood gathering in his ardent loins. Since the dawn of humankind, he had more women than any other man on this earth, yet none has evoked such hunger in him.

He would have eaten her alive and torn her to shreds if only he didn't have bigger plans for her.

Still hidden by the unnatural night, August stalked from behind, the blaze of his enkindling burn licking her path as he crept further to ensnare his prey. He wished she could see herself through his own flaring glance, how beautiful she was with tears of despair rolling down the tender slope of her cheeks.

His beloved girl; his, by ancient law. Spirited as a rageful tempest, she insisted on escaping her prophesied fate. Muscles and bones strove against the panic that turned her boiling blood frigid. But no power, physical nor divine could revoke this otherworldly attraction that bound her to him. His bidding could never be undone and as much as his blood relished from the thrill of the chase, it was time to put an end to this dance and seal their union.

Appearing from a stygian haze of a spectral nightmare, the beast drew his claw to grasp the fleeting girl’s shoulder.

The world froze along with the scream that died in her throat. Cold, slippery wet, the phantom serpents slinked around her ankles and held on to the ground as the thing behind her bit his nails into her collarbone. His touch was no ghost, but as real as the quiet moon that voyeured her fate from above and did nothing. A wretched gasp of anguish shuddered through her airways as his fingers stalked forth to cinch at her neck.

His grip was tighter than the icy finger of death, yet its caress was the sensual lick of a gossamer tongue.

It was almost as if he worshipped her.

Shadows befell her as the assailant leaned close, wafting a mist of intoxicating fumes scented of poisonous elixirs and an ancient forest that laid deep between the veils of the underworld, hiding forbidden mysteries that none dared speak of. Seeping through her orifices, it stung her eyes and raked remorseful tears.

“Please…” she broke into sobs, shaking her head at the dawning of her fate.

The man inhaled deeply. Though she could not see him, the joyful malice that danced on his pleased breath roared in her ears.

“Do not fear me.” The sonorous rumble caressing her ear was hardly a surprise in its familiarity. It was him, the handsome bewhiskered gentleman from earlier. But of course, it was always him: the whisper in the dark, the slithering things moving beneath the tepid ground, and the smell of burning pyres.

But who the hell was he?!

As if he read her mind, his hand twisted around her nape and with a careful sway, turned her to face him. The voice inside her head warned her over and over again not to look at him; yet the temptation was too great, peeling her eyes open to stare at the thing that made her heart drop to her gut.

Vast, raven wings spread from each side of an Adonis figure, their intimidating length denying her widened eyes to look at anything but the dark god that soared tall in front her. No, not a god, a devil. A pair of small golden horns peeked from the mane of long curls, and the heavenly icy gaze she remembered from earlier had melted into an abysmal lake of fire.

He was beautiful.

He was monstrous.

And just like that, she descended from the earth, swept into a thick swamp of darkness that swallowed her whole. Never letting so much as her feet kiss the ground, August scooped her into his strong arms. Peering down upon her, he broke into a delightful grin, already enamoured with his delicate new bride. The pang of lust tingled in his groin, though despite the raging need to claim her now, it was her screams he desired more than all as he would consummate their eternal marriage.

Wicked tongues of fire licked up the shallow air, casting a faint amber glow into the abominable sombre of a vanishing nightmare. Shy as feral nymphs, the bursting sparks ascended melancholily, whispering tales of perishing days that fell to harmony with a strange mumbling chant. Still locked in a void of unconsciousness, the fallen girl shifted with disquiet, her hands restlessly clutching at a virginal silk gown that covered her body.

Vaguely remembering a horrifying dream of a demonic entity, she woke with a sudden electric jitter. A peal of breathless pants pushed through her heaving chest before she slumped into the intense relief one experiences from a brush with either death or a ghastly fantasy.

“Thank God…” she whispered with a fist pressed to her breast.

Yet, something was amiss. The low vocal melody continued despite her state of clarity, tangled with the eerie presence of a hundred cutting glares that stabbed her crawling spine. Slowly and carefully, she lifted her head and scanned her surroundings.

The blood drained from her face.

Swaying like shadowy wraiths stood men cloaked in black velvet hoods. Tears of milky boiling wax trickled from the candles held by their stringy fingers, yet they didn’t seem to flinch as the burning rivulets seared their flesh. Their hollow eyes were fixated upon her while words of a dark sacrament sputtered from their lips and reverberated through the endless archways and ribbed vaults that towered above them.

Her trembling muscles were briskly stifled under the unsettling realisation of her whereabouts - a cathedral, a thousand years old if not more. Burning torches lit crumbling pillars and statues of monstrous winged creatures that encircled them from every niche, their malicious shadows dancing upon dusty obsidian bricks. Unglazed windows were barred by black iron, the beautiful floral shapes preventing any means of escape.

Only the fractured ceiling held a cheap shred of hope, as a vast rupture of broken stone exposed her to the scarred carmine wolf-moon.

If only she had wings…

Bones rattling beneath her crawling flesh, she sat upon the hard surface with wells of despair. Her hands clutched around the edge of the bed, only to be kissed by the sharp corners that pierced the delicate flesh. Hissing with pain, she lifted her arms and stared below at what appeared to be a midnight-black marble creased with golden veins and saplings-like patterns.

It was beautiful, just like the creamy gown that covered her body.

“Do you like it, bride?”

Rising from the crowd like a flame among charred coals, appeared her handsome abductor. Suitable to a true evil prince, a long red cloak enrobed his broad, sturdy form, the velvet hem trailing behind him like a thick river of blood while he marched forward with no haste in his dauntless mien. Human once again, August offered the most endearing grin; two profound dimples embellished his scruffy cheeks, and his eyes shone brighter than a frozen sea.

Yet in her sullen gaze, he was nothing but a monster.

Abruptly enraged and driven by pure instinct, she jumped off the marble and paced backwards. Tears of anger and fright rimmed her swollen lids and her bare feet nearly collided as she shook her head at August who was neither impressed nor concerned by this foolish protest.

“You stay the fuck away from me!!!” She warned with a scream and hastily turned away.

Lost in some trance, the praying mob never stirred, granting the girl a fair chance to escape the bewhiskered man who was still several strides away. Her feeble legs made three to four steps when her muscles swiftly turned to stone, and her stomach lurched.

‘No! It couldn’t be! How?!’

Curls shining like precious coils of onyx, August emerged in front of her, continuing his relaxed gait as if this was a natural occurrence. His bright icicles melted into malicious dark pools of twisted desire, and his tongue briefly laved his plump lips at the sight of pure disbelief that cascaded over her face. He could feel right under her skin, hear the thrumming heart that both chilled and fumed for him. Further beyond her thoughts, his betrothed yearned to be defiled and torn open by him.

It was her destiny, whether she liked it or not.

Still she fought, so ferocious and defiant, flinching away from his attempts to seize her. It was almost comical to watch her deny him, knowing that her fate would be no different; she will spread her legs and submit to his conquest. And yet, her battle was immensely appealing; what better bride to the dark lord than a woman who breathed fire.

“Who are you?!” She cried, her trembling voice rising with panic and her cheeks soaking with tears, “What do you want from me?!”

August's face was devoid of mercy, her whimpering hisses did nothing to deter him and only further increased the appetite of the deprived wolf that circled in his gut. With a wring of his wrist, his fingers snapped at her elbow, hauling her against his rock-hard chest with such might her heels hovered above the ground.

Writhing in his grip she flung her hands at his face, clawing streams of crimson to trickle down his cheeks. The notion of hurting this vicious man brought somewhat of a sick joy; but her onslaught died at once, and her mouth fell agape as his skin healed with not even a trace of injury.

“Oh God, what are you?!” She shuddered.

Still holding her elbow hostage, his free hand travelled to the hem of the white gown, the long, perverted fingers twisting around the fabric before yanking it off at once. A resounding rip echoed through the tall arches, causing the chanting choir to halt their susurrations at once.

All eyes were afloat as the cold air kissed her skin. In vain, she attempted to cover herself only to be felled by the restraints of August’s grasp.

“God?...” The man finally spoke, his melodic voice ending with a sonorous hum that sprouted through her arteries like a deadly toxin. Not less poisonous, his gaze trailed down her form, worshipping the very sights of his delightful prize.

“Not God, but once I was an angel,” he suggested and leaned down to inhale her skin with a gratified growl before he flicked his wide tongue at her chest.

A groan of approval emitted from his lips, the sheer coat of sweat that layered her bosom was soaked of freshly brewed fear, his most favourite savour. His wet, velvety snake swept the sweet-briny wetness and licked further down her breasts, twirling around the erect nipple.

Unintended, she moaned. A river of delights rushed between her grinding thighs.

“No!”

Wrongful, unwanted bliss awoke in her. She felt desecrated and allured at once. Her fickle body deceived, mistaking this vile conquest as consensual. And the more August took, the more she desired; her dutiful womb demanded to consummate this bond, almost as if the beast had bewitched her a long while ago, embedding his essence in the marrow of her bones.

August grinned against her skin, the scent of her arousal fresh in his nose while his lips travelled to kiss down her sternum and the slope of her torso. His thick whiskers left a trail of fluttering butterflies.

“Have sympathy, my love. I had built my own realm and waited in the forlorn abyss. Empires fell and worlds disintegrated into ashes while I waited for thou,” he explained and clutched the cheek of her behind in his claw, squeezing it possessively. “I have longed for your touch since the day your ancestor promised you to me, little lamb. A hundred years’ worth of waiting for the bargain to reach its end, and for you to finally be ripe.”

The beast pressed one last languid kiss below her navel, a guttural hum exuded in between his lips, huffing hot against her belly. Slowly he rose to his full height, towering above his helpless victim who hugged her arms to cover her naked body and watched her nightmare unfold once more. Cold wind chilled her damp cheeks as August flung the blood-red cloak and exposed his naked figure before her.

He was massive, a masculine build fit for a warrior angel, covered with thick bulging muscles and dark hair. Lips parted, she forgot herself, gawking in awe and allowing her gaze to trail down to his unapologetically monstrous cock. Firm and throbbing, it dripped with hunger, urging to find release inside her clenching cavern.

She didn’t even know a man could be this vast, but alas, he was no man at all.

It was at that moment when blackest wings spread before her that realisation finally struck through like a blunt hammer to the back of her head. Covering her mouth she cowered away, her exposed back hitting the raised altar behind her.

August was no man nor god, but Lucifer himself.

Seeing the hope die in her eyes, the devil sneered.

“No, no, no! This can’t be real! This isn’t real!!!” She yelled, pathetic little hiccups sputtering from her lips.

August tilted his head, giving a scornful pout and scoffed with amusement. “Am I not?” He asked as he lifted an arm to flick his fingers, summoning two of the hooded servants to approach the dais. Their eyes were soulless gems embedded to a grey face that was cracked like a broken eggshell.

“I am real, beloved, as real as the child you will conceive me tonight.”

Shrills of terror flew through the great hole in the ceiling. Kicking and screaming, she fought as the men seized her arms and dragged her to the altar, forcing her flat down and holding her arms to prevent her from escaping. They never blinked at the ferocious war she waged against them, though an impish smile slowly possessed their faces as their master strode forward.

“Sweet little lamb,” August chanted, enamoured with his fiery bride while he sauntered by the edge of the altar. His Adonis body golden in the candlelight, his fingers squeezed and pumped the ravenous demon that hung heavy between his legs. The twinge in her womb rose in response, a low roar thrumming as it yearned to succumb to its unbridled purpose. Sheen, the arousal trickled between her kicking legs and onto the smooth stone, making her cheek flame.

Much to August’s pleasure.

“Our son will burn this world to cinders,” he promised and snaked his fingers at her ankles. Calmly deflecting her attempts to kick against him, he dragged her toward him until her knees folded over the edge and spread between his thighs. The platform was in the perfect height, positioning her delicious Eden at the height of his blessed demon.

“You will make an excellent mother.”

Her entire body shook, her cunt clenching along her sobs in both defence and beguiling need as August leaned in and grazed the silky pink crown between her wet petals. She begged he wouldn’t be able to invade her, but her prayers fell to deaf ears.

“Please don’t do this to me! I will do anything… please!” She wailed a bargain, still trying to escape the servants’ grip and looking at him pleadingly, “I… I...haven’t been with a man!”

“Oh I know…” August beamed and stroked himself back and forth between her engorged lips. Vamping flames tingled at her flesh, her core foolishly squeezing around nothing in demand for this wretched monster to defile her.

“You’ve kept yourself for me, didn't you? I have waited for you too, for centuries even, but now our waiting has ended, and I can finally love you.”

With one brutal thrust, he breached through the gates of her sacred haven, corrupting her purity and ripping her open with the elegance of a savage.

Exasperated bats fluttered their wings over the red moon at the sound of her pained howl. Eyes flared to the bleak sky above; the girl watched them in a daze, disbelieving the blazing demon that scorched her from inside as he nestled himself between her resisting gates with no intention to cease.

In his villainy, August pushed further. Stunned thunders of ecstasy erupted from his lips, all to humiliate her along with the dark minions who circled the altar to pervertedly witness this sacrilegious ritual in which their master ravaged the unwilling maiden. Ignoring her body’s vehement protest, he forced himself unfathomably deep, only stopping until the head of his cock kissed the gateway of her cervix.

Crystalised tears rolled down her temples and stained the cold marble beneath her body. Slit impossibly sore, she twitched and sobbed at the overwhelming feeling of being invaded by another entity. Her once protected realm was now under the domain of a ruthless prince, and he took no prisoners and granted no mercy nor care at her vain endeavours to push him out.

He would never stop. He would have her again and again until her sacred little womb would be plentiful with his seed.

“Tight,” he blurted out in a blissful huff and reached his talons to bite into her quaking thighs. Spreading her wider, he hooked his hands below her knees, moulding her into a vessel to be fulfilled. Arctic orbs glazed down her naked figure, his plump lips cooing at her aching whimpers. The taut and hairy muscles of his gut flexed as he carefully withdrew his vicious cock, coated in the crimson sorrow of her maidenhood.

Hollow pain throbbed in her empty cunt as he suddenly abandoned her. Distressed and overwhelmed, she hoped he would stay out, yet her traitorous body coveted his return in a false faith that it would ease the fervid twinge that soared to her belly and even burnt in her breasts.

It was far from true.

No less vigorous than before, August plunged back inside her, stretching her again, shaping her as his own as she yipped and struggled to escape. His head threw back with a roar of divine pleasure, feasting at the thrill of her dauntless veils wrapping around him like a succulent flower. For a moment there, he wondered who preyed on who. Her concupiscent little cove sucked him so wantonly it threatened to swallow his raging cock.

‘But of course, every virgin is destined to become my whore.’

Hot and heavy, his shaft seized the void that had always been inside her, their heaving organs collided in euphoric bliss like two broken shards that were lost for decades and finally pieced back together. And even though she seared with every jerk or shift he made, the impassioned flames licked at the seams of her twitching cunt in waves of ache and foreign desperation.

“No…” she whispered, shame singeing her throat as the little pesky sparks enkindled where the devil had violated her. Vision blurry, she gazed at him utterly mystified. Part of her warred to stoke the fire that screamed heresy, while the other begged to yield to her demise.

As August pulled away again and thrust harder, a breathless moan tore from her lips.

A cutting grin radiated onto his face. “It feels so good inside you,” he sang and slid one hand to stroke all the way down from her sweat-ridden thighs to her belly, feeling the movement of his cock with every push and shove.

He was taunting her, yet she couldn’t care less. Over the cinders of pain and virtue, a garden began to bloom. With every abysmal stroke of his swelling shaft, she could feel green saplings and coy vines growing within her uterus—soft, beautiful tendrils stalked through her arteries, sprouted through her cove, and engulfed his swelling demon as well.

She was no longer burning but becoming alive. Pained cries suddenly evolved into asphyxiation of bliss. Beyond her realisation, she undulated her hips in the desire to endure each of his wet claiming thrusts. Her spine coiled against the surface, further allowing him easier passage to nourish the wilderness that continued spreading through her blood.

Noticing the change in her, approving groans rumbled in his throat; his little bride was growing tighter around his demon, her quivering lips and fluttering lashes the image of true Elysium. It was not long before he would plant his seed in her fertile lush. Her cunt milked and suckled around him, demanding to be bred by the devil.

“Yes, my love! Give in to me! Give in to your primal sin!” August urged, enhancing the rhythm until he was thrusting into her like a battering ram, the sinful elixir of their union smearing on his groin and dripping down her rump. “Descend with me!”

In her delirium she witnessed magical nightshades and sinewy stalks growing amidst the gritty bricks, encompassing the ominous cathedral with bright colours.

It was paradise on earth, given to her by the unearthly rapturous joy of having this demon violate her, slamming harder with growing frustration until his thick girth ripped through the last threads of her self-preservation and that which she tried so hard to deny erupted through her clenching core.

Euphoria.

For a lingering moment, she had wings of her own, pale as precious pearls and lustrous stars. Tingling waves of ethereal white heat burst at her seams, purifying her as she flew above the cathedral, and watched their ungodly union from above. But her wings suddenly caught aflame and before she knew it, she crashed onto the earth with a secondary, more violent climax.

The beast’s roars erupted into a brutal thunder, causing the sturdy pillars of the cathedral to quake and crack like thin glass. With all his might, he clutched her thighs and hauled her against him, slamming his swollen cock deep into her belly and releasing his smouldering, milky essence until it seeped from her sleek. August’s wings flew open as he found his own rapture, blazes following through and consuming the ancient hall.

This was no longer a hallucination.

This was Inferno.

Still radiating with orgasmic glow, she screamed horrified as everything around them vehemently burnt to coals. Even the soulless servants crumbled into dust, accepting their fate without so much of a yip. The fire raged and died within seconds, leaving nothing but broken pillars and ashen smoke.

Shortly, the tepid air of night caressed her naked skin as they remained alone in the ruins of what was once an ominous cathedral. Still buried in her viscera, August broke into a low, stretching groan of relief which made her immediately return her eyes to him. Shame rose bitter in her throat and new fresh rivulets trickled on her cheeks.

After all that he had done to her, she could see nothing in him but a beautiful monster.

“My beloved queen,” August keened to comfort her and moved his hand to tenderly stroke her lower belly.

A toothy smile broke upon his face, his eyes gleaming with surprise as he felt the life that had already begun growing in her angelic fortress. A son, strong and glorious as his father. For the first time in his long existence, the devil was truly elated and he vowed in that moment that he would give her much, and much more. But first, she needed to be cared for.

Her assaulted hole convulsed with pain as he pulled himself out, leaving a trail of creamy fluids to dribble at his departure. Sniffling and shaking, she watched him bemused, as he climbed onto the altar and moved to lie beside her. Though she no longer flinched as he touched her, what was the point of it anyway? He had already destroyed her and stolen her innocent soul.

“You make me so happy, my beloved queen,” August had murmured as he gripped her jaw and pressed his lips to hers. His kiss claimed her breath, pillaging whatever left of her chastity and wit until she absentmindedly kissed back, forgetting herself as his tongue bested her will.

When he broke away, the taste of spiced ruby wine and blood lingered in her mouth.

“An eternity awaits us,” the devil explained as he pecked her nose and her forehead lovingly, to which she shivered - out of fright or out of want, she couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

“You had made me the happiest, now give me the chance to grant the same favour, ask for anything you want in the world and it shall be yours,” he begged and wrapped her in the shelter of his strong arms to lie down with him on the smooth stone surface.

Absentmindedly, she welcomed the protection offered from his embrace and stared silently as flakes of cement broke from the remnants of the wall floated in the air around her before she opened her mouth.

“I wish for…”

Her whisper faded into the dark.

*Disclaimer: I do not own Mission Impossible or August Walker

Beautiful dividers by @firefly-graphics

#henry cavill #august walker #henry cavill fanfiction #august walker x ofc

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lulusoblue · 2 years ago

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What would you say is your favorite thing about Bioshock infinite? I beat it for the first time recently; real mixed bag there for me, and I’m interested in what draws other people to it.

(ok sorry for the delay on this but I really had to think on this)

I guess my favourite thing overall about it is the nostalgia? Weird to say but whenever I play it I just feel comfortable because it reminds me of when it first came out and I was only just on tumblr and how talking about it lead me to my closest friends in my social circles? It's also a semi-collectathon like the other BioShocks or Dishonored, just looking around in corners for lockpicks, money, audio diaries, little setups of props that tell a story you could easily miss. Y'know, the lore.

And so that I don't clog anyone's dashboard, here's a read more as I ramble (I'm sorry I can't help it this is an ask that genuinely got the hamster in my head to start working the wheel thank you), because I can't speak for sure what draws other people to it but I can speculate on what drew us all in around the time of release.

So it's been nearly a decade and pretty much everyone has agreed there are aspects about Infinite that did not age well up to today. How the Vox Populi were handled, the combat system, how they tried to create a BioShock framework to link the alternate universes, Burial at Sea... plenty was not implemented to the greatest potential, and since then we've learned more about what happened behind the scenes and it's no surprise some things were so messy.

However, at the time, Infinite was a bit of a breakthrough for a Triple A title. Your mileage may have varied, but there were just things about it that made it differ from other Triple A games at the time.

Introducing the Multiverse

Main thing was how the story went into things like multiverse theory and the idea of constants and variables, which was a great jumping-off point for future Shock titles and helped connect back to System Shock, what BioShock spiritually succeeded. It wasn't the best use of multiverse theory and certainly wasn't the first, when we had things like Fringe or His Dark Materials, and not everyone liked how Infinite handled it.

On the other hand, I think it's one of the alternate-history timeline pieces of media that helped popularise the idea, and fit with BioShock's previous alternate-history stories with how the first two games had some subtle hints of it with certain characters being involved in historical events. And, again, before the DLC episodes came out, it really opened up potential for how the series could go forward with the idea that a BioShock game didn't need to continue directly from Rapture or Columbia, but an entirely new "impossible" city with similar elements.

People got excited and connected the roles of characters between games - Jack, Eleanor and Elizabeth being key characters raised by antagonists to fulfill their wishes/legacies; if the Man could be the role of the protagonist of titles or the founders of these fantastic cities; the cities both having people in charge abusing their power and acting on ideals warped by going into the extreme, leading to the populace falling into chaos as they tear the city from the inside out; how when certain people get given a power that goes against nature to do whatever they want, they use it how they want to devastating effect - it was the idea of all these possibilites and connections, similarities and differences that I think really buzzed about in the fandom early on.

I think when Burial at Sea was finished it put a damper on things like the theorising, because at first it was sort of railroading not just Elizabeth's character and ambiguous future, but both 1 and Infinite's overall fates. Infinite was no longer a flawed standalone, it was now a prequel to BioShock... but also ran alongside it? Rapture in BaS is the primary timeline... but the bond between Big Daddies and Little Sisters are completely different now? Fink had people fishing for ADAM slugs from the sky?? Drinkable ADAM took 10 times the amount of injectables, and Fink and Suchong still make a limited resource drinkable???

Needless to say, the whole multiverse vibe of Infinite getting dropped in Burial at Sea left a negative impression on a lot of people, I noticed it a lot on here because I was the deepest in the salt mines and yet plenty were still fond of Infinite so... Burial at Sea just got disowned. I remember someone saying Levine had said BaS wasn't canonical, and to this day I cannot for the life of me find real evidence that he ever stated this, but a bunch of us clung to that and the fact that whatever Levine didn't understand in the original game he either still didn't understand or just didn't care about with the DLCs.

We also viserally hated BaS for pretending 2 never happened.

It's Just So Goddamn Pretty and Charming

Weird thing to say for a BioShock game, I know, but Infinite was pretty much tumblr gifset gold, and its graphics are probably what aged the best of everything in the game.

Not to say Rapture didn't have any beauty to it, but it was very much leaning into a haunting and deteriorating aesthetic, 1 having the immediate aftermath of a city gone to ruin and 2 showing the ocean slowly seeping in to reclaim its space. You could soak in (haha) the environment of a city long since dead, come across props placed deliberately to tell a story without words, with that little hint of survival horror where a splicer might walk in and catch you off-guard.

Columbia was a very different experience, there was sunlight and sky and clouds and floating buildings and people walking about going on with their day. The levels where you get to put your weapons down and just play walking simulator for however long you want are probably the better levels. In general, Columbia has a lot of well-done atmosphere and moments where a player can just stop and take a screenshot for their desktop later. It was an still is a visual treat, and the general artstyle of BioShock as a franchise not being super realistic and being somewhat stylised really helped the games age well. Even the massive hands of NPCs and the horrifying children of Columbia have their own charm to them.

And on that note of charming, the characters themselves had charm to them, be it in short audio logs or through the story with recurring characters. All the games get their charm from the audio diaries because they inform the overall story in some small aspect and add to putting you in the time period and setting of the story, as well as the attitudes of characters then. Honestly I never get enough of walking through the welcoming level and overhearing people talking in this cheery tone where the subject matter of conversations starts to become slowly off, or how an NPC will comment on finding Booker attractive when it's entirely possible that not 30 seconds ago Booker was rummaging in the trash and found loose change and a pineapple.

And you might be wondering if things like these were really that great, and in 2013? Yes. Yes, they were great. Why? Because it was 2013 and everything was brown. (or at least it felt like it) Mainstream games were varying shades of sepia tone and mud-brown because war or something, it wasn't ALL games but for triple A titles it felt like they thought spilling coffee on the camera was a style choice. Characters as well, they were either bland or assholes, I could articulate better if my brain wasn't white noise surrounding the before times, but it felt like western-made games like Calladuty Shootaman were just devoid of colour or charisma unless you were a BioWare game.

With Infinite, its bright colours and characters with... well, character (for better or worse put a pin in that), were a breath of fresh air for those generally playing it, even if some of the charm came from NPCs being blatantly bigoted in that old-timey voice (which really Infinite is not the only piece of media to do that).

And you're going to sigh for me saying it, because it makes me sound like a stan again, but another big factor in making it Infinite charming and different was... Elizabeth.

Yes, Elizabeth

Women in games weren't really treated as characters in the early 2010s, particularly in Triple As. It was a particularly misogynistic time in gaming in pretty much all areas; within the game narrative, behind the scenes in a game's development, and ESPECIALLY in fandom.

If a character was female and feminine, then she was either going to be a useless damsel just there to be a nuisance or to serve as a slutty mcslutterson just there to be sexy and/or bang the main character (or for bonus points, be punished for her sexy, slutty crimes). Like, any instance of a female character where her boobs were just existing meant some kind of misogyny was heading her way. It all just lead to pushback of being a girl and girly, like the only way to make a female character feel like she had a point or had worth was to make her a hardass and just as misogynistic "I'm not like other girls" as the men.

so Elizabeth being the emotional core of Infinite was pretty 'groundbreaking' at the time, for lack of a better term. She was feminine, she was girly, but she wasn't a useless damsel because of her gameplay design to assist the player, and she wasn't a slutty mcslutterson because she's never sexually available to the main character. Hell, she IS the main character in a way, Booker's just her bodyguard.

Escort missions were treated with the utmost disdain (a big reason why people chose to shit on BioShock 2 when it's entirely optional after one tutorial), and women were treated like eye candy, sexy lamps, or romantic interests/sex objects for the player character in more linear titles. So in terms of a giiiirl in a main role, Elizabeth was something new people into games and gaming culture; her escort mission didn't have annoying mechanics leading to fail states, and she was treated as her own character first and not as a romantic or sexual interest for the main character. She was allowed to just be, with interests and skills and agency in the story.

Triple A titles and the developers behind them just didn't seem to know how to write or design female characters beyond what would entertain what they believed was the main demographic; horny dudebros. If you want a quick example, the Mass Effect series was a big hit with its first two installments, being a space opera with some horny-on-main showing *cough*Asari*cough,* but nothing too egregious for games at the time and nothing as bad as other stuff out there. Then we had Mass Effect 3, a game that like Infinite was the third game in a surprise hit franchise given the Triple A treatment, and released not a year before. And returning female characters had designs that... well... choices were made, some more egregiously boggling than others. Biggest example would be Ashley Williams, whose new wardrobe didn't fit her established character in previous games.

Fans weren't fooled, because Ashley is a character who went on record to say she was comfortable with her femininity as she was while dressing appropriately as a soldier. While not stated, the obvious reason for the redesign was to make her look more like Miranda Lawson from the previous game, whose sexy appearance is actually part of her character and comfort in her sexuality. They literally changed Ashley's appearance from wearing practical uniform to a catsuit with a miniskirt for the sake of titillation for a potential new audience. And to be clear, it isn't that sexy characters are inherently bad or badly written. It's that developers and writers usually picked the wrong time to sexualise said characters, i.e. "there's a time and a place for a butt shot, and a scene where this woman is asking for help on a personal matter isn't it."

But anyway without going further off-topic, Game companies wanted to sell games and when it came to women in games, they believed that sex sold, hence female characters in games being sexualised with it rarely informing their characters or serving anything beyond titillation for a presumed male demographic.

Infinite seemed to be on that track with Elizabeth's demo appearance, where her bust was much bigger and she sounded a lot older, but looking at iterations of Elizabeth over time up to the final game, it becomes clear that the people behind Elizabeth were actively trying to avoid having her fall into that sexualisation, or at least any further than she already was. They made her breasts smaller and changed the bodice of her dress to her corset, keeping the blue dress that was by that point iconic while also modifying it to something that Elizabeth clearly would not wear by choice. They gave her her sailor-style dress for two thirds of the game so that players could connect with her more for her personality and story.

And, to top it off, the game is actively laughing at you for trying to ogle Elizabeth, after an age of games where the male gaze was encouraged. When there's a scripted scene, the camera keeps focus on Elizabeth's face and not her body. A player can't walk up flush to her to stare at her chest or her butt because her hitbox is pretty big and she will keep moving out of the way. You can't look up her skirt because it's too long, you can't get a view as she jumps off a skyline because she's too quick and even if you get it glitching out, Elizabeth's character models don't even have any legs above her knees (which for saving polygons is common in most games but that's not the topic). Hell, the ONE time a player can "successfully" try to be a perv to her exposed skin is when she's tied to the operating table at Comstock House, and aside from not being able to get too close, you know what the devs did? They defocus Elizabeth if you try to use your sights on her.

youtube

(from 08:23 to 08:57)

Most games at the time would not bother to put up this much resistance to players being gross horndogs, even as a joke like in the playthrough above. At first with Infinite and Elizabeth it was like "haha they cockblocked us lol", but in hindsight it feels more and more like it was pushing back against objectifying the emotional core of Infinite wherever possible, like the devs wanted people to view Elizabeth as a character first.

Honestly? Elizabeth wasn't the greatest example of how to treat a main character who was a woman in games, but she was one of the characters that at least pushed people in the direction of handling women and their writing better in future. Most people, anyway.

I'm gonna cover this separately in another post on the topic, but my friends and I are usually just baffled at how much the attitude towards Elizabeth has changed today, because while there are instances of dodgey writing with her story, Elizabeth is one of the characters that helped push narratives in gaming towards drinking their Respect Women Juice, because for all the "critiques" about her appearance and her role in the story... I can only think of what games were like around the time and I just

And just to cover my bases...

Yeah, the Narrative About Racism Was Pretty Racist Itself

With the subject of the Vox Populi and Daisy and the "both sides can be monstrous" way that plotline got ended unceremoniously, I don't believe it was written with any malicious intent (though I wouldn't argue if I was proven wrong on that, who knows what else we're missing behind the scenes). How the racism is handled has aged the poorest and is very much a deal-breaker for some players today, but with the context of when the game was made and released, I think they were trying to be sincere without completely understanding what they were getting into. Unfortunately with most media by white people, it's down to ignorance.

It did not help Infinite's case either that later that year, Black Lives Matter started, and with that movement more attention was given to black voices speaking out about stereotypes and portrayals of black characters in media, including in BioShock Infinite. I don't believe the people behind Infinite meant any harm in their portrayals of Daisy and the Vox. It doesn't mean it wasn't wrong or justifiable, but given the general lack of diversity in game companies at the time it's at best understandable how they and some players of Infinite would have missed the mark on a subject like racism. When it comes to racism, it's a lot deeper and a lot less PC than a white writer would want to get into if they weren't genuinely dedicated to showing the truth and ugliness of the topic, which Levine was not, because Infinite was not a story meant to be about racism at the end of the day.

I think with the demos, while the Vox were clearly antagonists, the reason for them being antagonists was a lot better than what we got. It's how they were always intended if we believe what was shown, and we might not know exactly how they went from that to being "the good guys get the means to fight the bad guys, but in doing so they become the bad guys". It was a mistake, and on some level we KNOW Levine knows it was a mistake by Burial at Sea Episode Two's development at latest, given how he tries to retcon Daisy's reasons for holding a child at gun point (which isn't better it's just. another flavour of "bad").

tl;dr, In Conclusion, yada yada

Overall, I feel so many people still like BioShock Infinite today because of what it kind of did for gaming along with other titles released back in 2013. It got lots of mainstream attention for a game that wasn't Call of Warfare or Modern Duty, which was what people expected from first-person-shooters a lot of the time. It was also one of the titles out there pushing for the argument that video games could be artistic and hold deeper meaning and stories, even if with Infinite your mileage may vary. It was part of the "you HAVE to try this game" list of experiences, and it's stuck to those people even if it hasn't gotten on too graceful with time.

I feel like it was a net positive at least with how it treated the main girl of the game and how fans reacted. Yes, there were plenty of horny dudebroes and creeps drawing fanart because the internet never ceases to surprise, but a lot of people fell in love with her for being a female character that got better treatment than most, both in-story and in fandom. Plenty of other women in games may have had better stories and characters and mechanics than Elizabeth, I won't argue that, but again, this was a woman in a game for a mainstream audience at a time where women were either a sex object or a punchline in popularly consumed media, particularly online.

You know what, I'm changing my favourite thing about Infinite. My favourite thing about it was that it shone a spotlight on the whole series. Something that was an ironic positive was how, after Infinite came out, people started viewing BioShock 2 a lot more favourably, either by comparison to Infinite because it felt weaker in certain elements, or by revisiting / first-time-playing the games, especially when the remastered version in the BioShock Collection was released. Infinite being such a big success financially prompted 2K to try and make more money by bringing the older games to the next console generation, which brought the whole series to a wider audience. And it was damn good to see BioShock 2 get a new perspective that was heaps more positive than when it was released, it was always a shame to me that online circles treated it like trash since it was the first game in the series I played until completion (I just couldn't get into combat for BioShock 1 at the time).

I'm sorry for making this so long and sorry if there are points that don't seem clear or make sense, it was too fun and brain-excercising to not go into why so many people still like this game. Well at least the reasons that wouldn't require me to retire at 30 from exhaustion and mental breakdowns anyway.

#bioshock #bioshock infinite #long post #theluckoftheclaws #just me sitting here praying i didn't go too off-the-rails with this one #i get incoherent when i rant or infodump

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pascalpanic · 4 years ago

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request please? lately i have been having a lot abandonment anxiety when it comes to friendships and i was wondering how you think javi or din might help someone with an anxious attachment style? thank you lovely 🥰

Irrational (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: above ^^

W/C: 2.8k

Warnings: language; talk of fighting and weapons, reader has a panic attack PLEASE be aware that it’s coming and somewhat descriptive.

A/N: I really really love this! I hope you guys do too :) as always, thanks to my beta reading babes!

Din Djarin has been abandoned before. Often on a mission, sometimes on a lone planet with no credits or ways out. He always survives, of course, and vengeance is taken. One thing he absolutely can’t fathom is abandoning someone he loves, or more specifically someone who loves him.

Abandonment isn’t an issue when you’ve never had someone to be attached to. Din spent many many years with absolutely no one. When his parents died, it felt like he was abandoned, sure, but it was clearly not their decision to leave him. When he was taken in by the Mandalorians, they kept him at an arm’s length. He was a foundling; they cared for him well, taught him The Way and The Creed, fed him well. But he was never adopted into a specific clan, rather passed around the covert like the communal task each family had an obligation to fulfill.

Then he became a bounty hunter. The life was solitary and lonely, cold and bleak. It was rare that Din would team up with other bounty hunters, really only when forced to. The Razor Crest became his baby, his only possession and love besides his blasters and beskar. The thing was a piece of bantha shit, but he kept it in good shape.

Then came the kid. Din knew it was wrong. Bounties are to be turned in and paid for, then you forget the job happened. But when that little green thing stared up at Din, the big brown eyes seeming to stare through the dark black of his visor, he knew he couldn’t. This was a child, a baby with no family and no way to protect itself. He certainly couldn’t turn it over to the hands of the ex-Imperials.

Din experienced his first real attachment with the child. He cares for that little thing more than he’s ever cared about anything. He’d cross galaxies, kill and maim and injure for the sake of the little green baby.

Oh Maker, then he met you.

Din had never seen anything like you. You were playing with the kids in the marketplace, laughing as they ran and played around you, before you squealed in delight at the sight of a little green toddler wandering up to you. He’d climbed in your lap, looked up at you with those big eyes, massive ears twitching. You’d stroked his head and cooed to him before you looked up to find his father; subsequently, you felt your heart fall into your stomach at the sight of the Mandalorian man.

“You’re good with kids.”

Well no shit. You nodded. “Yes. I love them. Is this your son?” you ask, looking back down at the three green fingers wrapped around your thumb.

He nods. “He is a foundling under my care.” He watched as the baby grabbed at the golden armband encircling your bicep. You’re absolutely gorgeous. The armband glows against your skin, your beautiful body evident even through the loose and flowing clothing you wear. “Do you take care of these children as a job?”

You shook your head. “No. We don’t have jobs here, necessarily. They just wanted me to play.” You scanned the man, searching for skin. You found none. “Are you green under there too?”

The Mandalorian did not answer. “I’m looking for a caretaker for the child while I hunt bounties. You’d stay in my ship and care for him. I pay well and you’d get to travel the galaxy.”

“You barely know me,” you laughed, removing the little green baby’s fingers from their tight grip on the gold band on your arm.

He gave a half shrug. “He likes you.”

And you’d agreed. And it’s been almost a full cycle now, a cycle of living in the beat-up ship and caring for the little green baby. You’ve seen the most beautiful and the ugliest of planets, experienced extreme heat and extreme cold. You’ve been to beautiful cities, unique jungles and forests and ice planets.

In that time, you got to know the Mandalorian too. It took quite some time to crack his beskar shell. He hardly talked to you in the first month. Then your persistence had loosened him a little, then a little more, then just enough. You know more of him than any other living being does. He’s told you his name: Din Djarin, a name that flows and stops and radiates the power of the bounty hunter. He told you the story of his childhood, of hunts gone wrong and hunts gone right.

You love listening as he tells you and the child the story of the child’s rescue from the ex-Imperials. The baby snuggles against your lap as his father regales the two of you with the epic battles, the fights Din went through for this little child. You both applaud at the end, and put the baby to bed with a kiss between those big brown eyes.

He’s a wonderful man. You’ve formed an easy friendship with him, one that has honestly progressed on your end. At night, you find yourself fantasizing about what he looks like beneath his armor, how the muscles of his broad shoulders move when he climbs the ladder to the cockpit or lifts the child. You like to think he may feel the same for you, but you don’t push it. You don’t want to push him away.

Din has been away for far too long. He always highballs the dates he gives you, saying that an assignment will take three days when he knows it will only take two or a week when it will only be five days. This is a pattern you’ve come to notice; Din is alway back “early”, but now he is late. Really late.

Before he left, Din had opened your bunk compartment, causing you to groan at the light filtering in. You’ve been sleeping since the Crest made a rocky landing on Nevarro a few hours earlier. “Cyare,” he’d murmured, a rare ungloved hand warm on your bare arm, contact broken by your metal armband. You don’t know what the word means. You hope it’s something good.

“What is it?” You groaned, rolling onto your back to look at him. “Leaving?”

He nodded, the silhouette of his helmet-covered head against the soft light of the hull. “Leaving. I’ll be back in four days at the most.”

You offered him a sleepy smile, one that he could see in the warm glow of the lights you’d installed in the ship to navigate easier at night. “Good luck. May the Force be with you,” you teased, making the normally stoic man chuckle a little.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll see you soon.”

You didn’t protest, rolling over and letting the heaviness of sleep drag you back under.

Now, you really wish you’d have talked with him more then. You’re almost certain you’ll never see him again.

You’re not exactly sure what it was in your brain that triggered the thought. Maybe Din just actually took the amount of time he’d said for once, you thought on the fourth day. But now it’s been eight days, double the amount that he’d told you he’d be gone, and you’re stressed.

He always makes good on his word. He should be back by now. He always does. Did he get injured or killed, maybe captured by the bounty he was stalking? You ponder your ideas aloud as you pace back and forth in the hull of the Razor Crest, the little green baby tucked in his soundproof pram to sleep.

There’s likely a rational explanation. You’re sure there is. Maybe the bounty jumped ship, completely threw Din off of his tracks. Maybe the bounty is more clever than anticipated and Din is working extra just to find them. There’s surely a reason, but a little nagging voice in your head says that something is wrong.

In the first few days following Din’s date to return, your primary worry is that he’s hurt or dead somewhere on this barren planet. There are many other bounty hunters here, in this haven for Guild workers. What if one of them discovered Din still has the baby? What if they were coming for you here next?

Maybe you should go look for him. Maybe he’s injured and needs your help. He could be held by another hunter, or by the ex-Imperials- you can’t even bear to think of them harming Din for taking their precious cargo back. The thought makes you squeeze the little green baby tighter to your chest, even after he gives a whine of annoyance at the pressure.

But Din would never forgive you if you put yourself in harm’s way for him. This planet is dangerous, full of bad people who will do what it takes to get their credits. Most importantly, you can’t leave this ship with the kid. Certainly people here are looking for him. Someone would spot him and you’d be in for disaster. The anxiety fills your days and even seeps into your dreams, making you sleep less and more fitfully. On the eighth day, perhaps the most terrifying idea strikes you: what if Din just... left you?

Of course, there are plenty of signs why he hasn’t. The ship is one of his rare material possessions. He’d never give up the machine that’s been a home to him for the last however many years. Weapons are part of his religion, and he only took a sparse amount with him for this hunt. His prized pulse rifle still hangs in his armory, with an abundance of whistling birds he didn’t take either.

Most importantly, you’re still here with the kid. The baby is practically Din’s son. He adores him… but what if it’s all too much? You’ve become like a little family. That may be too domestic for him. Maybe he’s sick of the responsibility, of caring for two beings when so much of his life has been solitary. Even worse, maybe he’s just sick of you.

There are plenty of rational explanations. You know it. The baby can sense your anxiety, can feel the tension running through the air surrounding you, and he feels it too. He’s fussy, requiring more snacks and more attention. He tugs far too much on your armband and it pinches now, his little claws getting too long. You don’t mind- it’s a distraction, really- but your mind is never fully on feeding the baby, rather hyper analyzing Din’s mind as you know it and hoping he’ll return.

The hours pass. Din doesn’t return. You become more and more certain that he’s abandoned you for good. He isn’t coming back, ever, because he hates you. He was nice to you as a courtesy, nothing more, only as a protector of his child. This type of family is too much for the lone-wolf style man. He can’t do it anymore. You’re on your own.

In your head, the thought of him abandoning you is too much. It weighs heavily on your self-esteem, convincing you that this is all your fault and you’ve done too much, or not enough, or something wrong in general that sent Din packing and gone. He did it because you’re annoying, because he’s sick of you.

Rational thoughts are pushed to the furthest corner of your mind. Your brain is occupied by self hatred, by terror, by a sickening buzzing feeling in your head and chest that feels like a parasite eating you from the inside out.

It’s too much. You fall to the floor, sliding your back down the metal wall. Your rear contacts the floor as the tears fall from your face, your emotions drowning out your senses. You can’t use any of your senses, just think and process the agony your brain is putting you through.

Burying your face in your hands, you finally allow the tears you’ve been holding in all week to flow. It’s a relief, the hot tears streaming down your equally hot face, blood rushing to the surface. The anxiety buzzing in your head has reached a breaking point; you’re sure the tension is boiling your brains, making it bubble and roil as the thoughts pull you down and down so far you feel you’ve fallen through the floor of the Crest and into the dry Nevarro dirt.

You nearly wail, wheezing in air only to expel it in harsh sobs as the fear wraps your body and constricts it. You’re enveloped by it, trapped in a coffin mixed with a tornado mixed with a firestorm and a hurricane.

Then it all stops. The heat is broken by something cold- beskar. You force your eyes to see and they finally perceive that Din is in front of you. Then you feel again, feel the chilled metal all over your skin as he wraps his arms around you. You smell him, his faded soap from whenever he bathed last, his sweat and the smell of the Nevarro dust. You can taste your salty tears. The last sense to come back puts you most at ease: his voice. “Talk to me, please,” Din asks of you.

You nod and try to speak, but you’re still gasping for air, your lungs unable to fill. When you slow down and make yourself breathe, you’re finally able to manage words. “Thought you were gone forever. Thought you left because of me.”

The beskar helmet tilts to the side, taking you in. You’re sure you’re a mess; eyes bloodshot, face tearstained, snot probably all over you as well. Din’s quiet for a moment. “Why would you think that?”

“You said four days. You always come back early, but you were gone for eight days.”

His chest rises and falls slowly beneath the beskar plate. “I know. I’m sorry. But why would you think I’d leave you?”

The tears return. “I don’t know, Din, I-”

“No, shh,” Din murmurs and wipes your face. “No more tears. I’m here.”

Din stands and takes you with him, his arms wrapped tight around your body to bring you to your feet. He walks you to the edge of the bunk and hands you a canteen of water to drink. You look at him and he looks back. There’s a silence and an unspoken battle between the two of you over who will break it.

Din breaks first. “I got the bounty easily. I was late because of… something else.”

Your face falls into a frown. “You took double the amount of time and didn’t tell me? Whatever this ‘something else’ is, it better be worth it.”

Din breathes in and out deeply before producing a soft fabric bag. “I didn’t leave you. I’m back. And… I got you something to show that I’ll never leave you.”

From the bag, his leather-covered hand produces something silver. Your eyes, blurry with tears, take a moment to perceive it: an armband of some silver material- oh, it’s beskar. It’s cold to the touch but you take it from him to admire it and find it is emblazoned with an insignia: a mudhorn. “The symbol of Clan Djarin,” he says gently, though he’s sure you know. It’s on his pauldron. It’s on the baby’s necklace. “We… are a family, aren’t we?”

You don’t respond; rather, you throw your arms around his neck and the tears return, but happily. “We are,” you whimper, your throat constricted by a sob. You cry into his neck, staining the fabric of his cowl and cape with your tears.

He understands they’re good tears, and so he lets them flow. His arms wrap around you and rest on your back, gently rubbing it as you cry into him. As the sobs calm, the tears end, you remain in his arms. Din holds you tight against his chest. “I’ve never made a better decision than hiring you. It was supposed to just be a babysitting job, but… I fell in love.”

Your heart stops and you pull back. “You’re in love? With me?”

Din nods. “I… yes. I am.”

A smile crosses your face, the joy emphasized by how wide your smile is in the presence of your tears. “I love you too,” you manage before your throat squeezes off your words, making you cry happily and hug him yet again.

With your face buried in his neck, you nuzzle your face in and are rewarded with a soft patch of stubbled skin beneath the tip of your nose. You can feel his throat vibrate when he speaks again. “We are a clan of three now. I promise you, I will never leave you. Don’t even entertain the thought again. Understand?”

You nod, not wanting to move your face and lose contact with this intimate spot of him, the first humanness you’ve been able to get beneath the beskar. You kiss the skin there softly. Din knows it’s your answer: understood. I love you.

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#din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin headcanons #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian headcanons #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #mando #mando x reader #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal x reader #tw anxiety #tw anxiety attack #tw panic attack

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havenoffandoms · 3 years ago

Note

72 for Geralt/Jaskier?

I meant to post this a lot earlier... sorry about the wait, nonnie. I hope you like it anyway. I'm not sure how it came out in the end after I agonised over this for the past couple of days, but it was fun going back to my Geraskier roots.

Masterlist

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier

Prompt 72: Character A has a secret. Character B does whatever they can to find out what it is. When they find out, they wish they hadn't.

Warnings: brief angsty episode, mention of Geralt's traumatic childhood

Also, I love that art! Holy Shit!? So of course this had to feature before the fic <3

Travelling with Jaskier had its downfalls.

For one, the bard talks a lot. He never stops, not even in his sleep, and that would drive any man insane if you ask Geralt. He listens to Jaskier waffling about poetry all day, every day, he doesn’t have to endure a lecture on the benefits of iambic pentameters when he’s trying to fall asleep, thank you very much. Jaskier also likes to complain about every little thing that causes him discomfort, which when they’re on the path, ranges from fly bites all the way to sore feet. Travelling with a human also means that they travel considerably slower, unless they’re both riding on top of Roach, but Geralt doesn’t like putting his best girl under that kind of strain very often.

For all of Jaskier’s flaws, Geralt would hate to have to separate from his bard. At least, when Jaskier is close by, Geralt can keep an eye on him and make sure Jaskier doesn’t get himself into any unnecessary trouble. Having Jaskier travel with him gives Geralt peace of mind. He appreciates the singing as well, even if he could stand to tell Jaskier this a bit more often. Geralt deems that his bard’s ego is plenty inflated without Geralt making it worse. Not to mention that life always seems a little bit brighter when Jaskier is around, and the nights are a little less lonely as Geralt gets to pull his bard close and fall asleep to the sound of his beating heart. Knowing that Jaskier is safe is the only thing that lets Geralt sleep peacefully at night.

You’d think that after nearly two decades of knowing his bard, Geralt would have figured out Jaskier’s secret by now. Geralt is, of course, referring to Jaskier’s near supernatural ability to always come up with coin when he and Geralt need it most urgently. Geralt has no idea how the bard does it - his songs are popular, granted, and on a good night Jaskier makes enough to buy a nice room for the night and the better pieces of meat from the kitchen. Still, being a bard doesn’t pay that well, not even if you were as famous as Jaskier. Just last week, Geralt’s horse and most of his belonging were stolen by bandits, leaving Geralt travelling on foot and too poor to afford to buy a new horse. Two days later, Jaskier came trotting up to their camp atop a gorgeous mare, looking mighty pleased with himself but refusing to tell Geralt how he managed to afford to pay for the horse.

“Would you believe me if I told you I stole her, Geralt, my dear?”

“Not in a million years,” Geralt admitted deadpan, pulling an offended squawk from his songbird.

“Just because I’m a bard you don’t think I can steal a horse?”

“I don’t think you could ever steal a horse because you’re as stealthy as the proverbial bull in the porcelain shop.”

It’s not just the horse, though. Geralt’s armour needed replacing and good armour doesn’’t come cheaply. Geralt doesn’t hire the services of just any blacksmith or armourer to craft his weapons and protective gear. He has his regular suppliers, the ones he always goes back to because he knows that their work is reliable and of the highest quality. And even though these people know Geralt by now, even offer him a friends and family discount on occasion, their wares still come at a hefty price. Geralt, as it turns out, didn’t have the coin to replace his armour for a few months. He desperately needed new boots, though. A new pair of breeches wouldn’t hurt either, and his silver sword broke in half whilst fighting a particularly vicious griffin a few weeks back.

Geralt didn’t even mention all of this to Jaskier. That didn’t stop the bard from going ahead and commissioning a brand new suit of armour, new silver and steel swords, as well as a few casual clothes for Geralt to wear on the warmer summer days. All of this must have cost an arm, a leg and a fucking lung, and yet Jaskier acted like he didn’t just break the bank all for Geralt’s benefit. He didn’t even get anything for himself and that realisation had Geralt feeling slightly embarrassed about the gesture.

“You don’t have to buy me all this stuff, Jask.”

“I know that, dearest,” Jaskier assured him, eyes soft and an easy smile playing on his lips, “but I wanted to. Only the best for you, my sweet witcher.”

The mystery of where Jaskier managed to find the coin to pay for all this remains unsolved, despite Geralt’s questioning. Well, if Jaskier won’t outright tell him, then Geralt will just have to investigate the matter by himself.

"Where the fuck did you get your hand on all the coin to pay for all this?" Geralt asks one evening, blunt and straight to the point. There was probably a kinder and gentler way to ask this, but after spending weeks mulling over Jaskier's sudden new-found fortune, Geralt has lost the little patience he possessed in the matter. Jaskier, on the other hand, looks perfectly unperturbed.

"From the bank," he offers simply as he sprinkles expensive herbs over the hare Geralt caught earlier that evening, "you know, where people deposit their valuables? I know you witchers don't believe in bank accounts, savings and interests, but-"

"Where does the coin come from?" Geralt interrupts, hissing those words through clenched teeth.

"Why, my inheritance."

Geralt stares for a long while. It takes his brain several seconds to catch up to what Jaskier is telling him, and another few seconds to make sense of the words. Inheritance?

"What inheritance?"

"Well, when my father passed away he left me and my siblings a share of his wealth. That's how inheritance works. Say, pass me my satchel my dear, I think I have some more spices in there."

Geralt wordlessly hands Jaskier his satchel, still trying to process this new discovery. Come to think of it, Geralt knows precious little about Jaskier's family. Sure, that's probably on him for never asking, but Geralt has grown so used to Jaskier oversharing every aspect of his life that he never needed to ask his bard anything. Jaskier just… never talked about his family. Or his childhood, or his upbringing. His life story seems to always begin when he was a student at Oxenfurt.

Geralt is growing curiouser by the minute.

"When did your father pass?"

"Oh? Uh… good question. Maybe a few years after I went to Oxenfurt? I'm not sure. I received a letter from the bank notifying me that a share of my father's wealth was deposited in my account."

Geralt frowns. "You never went back to find out what happened?"

"No."

Well, that's an oddly abrupt response, and Jaskier doesn't seem like he's got anything to say on the matter. Which only makes Geralt feel more curious about the whole thing.

"Why not?"

"Geralt…" Jaskier heaves a sigh before putting on a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, too tense to be genuine. "My father and I didn't get along. I felt no need to go mourn him with the rest of my noble family in Lettenhove when he passed. That's it. That's all there's to it. I was not a good enough man to refuse my share of the inheritance, either, despite my non-existent relationship with him."

That's a lot to unpack. Geralt always assumed that Jaskier had a good childhood. Then again, he would think that, wouldn't he, considering Geralt spent his own childhood being tortured by magnanimous and sadistic mages. Where most children got to spend time outside helping out in the fields or playing with their friends, Geralt was put through drill after drill, after drill… until he was physically unable to walk so much his muscles hurt.

"Wait… did you say your noble family?"

"Hm?"

"In Lettenhove… there's nothing in Lettenhove. Only the Viscount and his family live there on a large esta-" Geralt's mouth clicks shut as realisation dawns on him. "Your father was the Viscount of Lettenhove?"

"Yes. And since I'm the oldest, after he died that title passed onto me. But I much prefer being a bard, so I graciously devolved my duties to my younger brother, who now manages the estate. Are we done with this conversation?"

"I didn't mean to make you mad…"

Geralt watches Jaskier stop dead in his tracks, his shoulders briefly tensing at those words, before exhaling loudly through his nose. Jaskier anxiously rubs the back of his neck as he straightens up and offers Geralt a sheepish smile, that one warmer and softer than the previous one.

"Sorry, dear heart. I didn't mean to be so short with you. It's just… well, there's a reason I don't bring up my family all that much."

"Hm." Geralt gently taps the spot next to him on his bedroll, and Jaskier doesn't have to be told twice. Soon, Geralt has one arm wound tightly around Jaskier's shoulders. Not quite a hug, but the intention is there all the same, and Jaskier eagerly melts in the embrace. "I shouldn't have insisted. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. You did nothing wrong." Jaskier nuzzles the crook of Geralt's neck sweetly before depositing a featherlight kiss just over his pulse point. "Do you want to ask me anything?"

Geralt ponders over that question far too long before whispering an answer in the air pocket between them.

"Did he hurt you?"

Jaskier hesitates.

"Not physically, no. He didn't approve of my aspirations and choices. He didn't support me. I suppose it hurt a little when he didn't see me away to Oxenfurt at the age of 15, but he never raised a hand on me."

"Hm." Good, Geralt thinks. No child should ever have to suffer at the hand of an adult. Geralt earned plenty a beating at Kaer Morhen, some justified and others not so much. Just because he went through this doesn't mean he condones it.

"At least I get to spend his money on someone I love," Jaskier offers softly, eyes as blue as the deepest ocean glancing up at Geralt through dark lashes, “That, at least, the old man can’t take away from me.”

A happy little rumble bubbles up Geralt's chest, despite the blush gracing his cheeks.

"I never thanked you for the gifts." Geralt blushes a deeper shade of red at the realisation. "Sorry. It's been a long year."

"Well, good thing we're heading North soon then, hm?" Jaskier straightens up so he can cradle Geralt's face in his lute-calloused hands. Their eyes meet then, amber seeking out blue, and Geralt thinks that he must be the luckiest son of a bitch in all the Continent.

"Yes," he agrees in a whisper, tilting his face to place a kiss on the inside of Jaskier's wrist, "good thing, indeed."

Request a prompt

#havenwrites #the witcher #wiedzmin #geralt of rivia #geralt z rivii #the witcher geralt #geralt #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #dandelion #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt/jaskier #jaskier/geralt #dandelion x geralt #geralt/dandelion #request open

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court-of-forever-undone · 3 years ago

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I Knew You’d Come Back to Me

Chapter Two: Slept next to her, but I dreamt of you (Cardan’s POV)

Summary: While homesick and heartbroken in the mortal world, Jude finds a pile of letters on her doorstep that include an official pardon and a love confession from Cardan. What is supposed to be a happy reunion quickly falls apart when Jude is told Cardan has returned to Nicasia in her absence.

Cardan is determined to make it up to Jude.

**This fic is inspired by the love story between Taylor Swift’s characters Betty, James, and August.**

Should you wish to listen: Cardigan | Betty | August

Tags: Multiple POVs, angst and a happy ending, Jurdan, post-wicked king, canon divergence

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Four Months Post Exile

If she has decided that she wishes to stay away and forget about Elfhame, me, then I will forget about her as well. Except that I can’t because for the eternity she has been gone there has been nothing to rid my thoughts of her.

I grab the nearest pitcher of wine, not that they are ever far from my reach as of late, and swallow as much of the tart liquid as I can. At least if I pass out there is a chance I may dream of her, or dream of losing her. But it is a chance I am willing to take.

There is a revel happening, for a reason I cannot remember. Probably honoring some guest that I cannot be bothered to care about at this point. I tend to the kingdom as best as I can for the day, but by the time the dawn is rising I do everything I can to forget the subtle human features that haunt me. The curve of her ear, the flush in her cheeks, the softness of her form.

Since she has been gone there has been an unbearable ache in my chest that only seems to worsen at her memory. I’ve taken back up with a variety of powders that I grew accustomed to at Balekin’s parties. The numbing sensation is highly preferable to the agonizing dread that awaits me in sobriety. At least when time passes differently, I can imagine that she is home again, or at the very least, I can pass more days until she returns.

Her return seems more and more uncertain because despite my letters, she has not come home, nor even responded to them. She has made no inclination that she intends to return, which is ridiculous because she is the queen. When she returns I will have to remember to remind her of all the accusations she threw my way at neglecting responsibilities, meanwhile she has spent months in the mortal world as if waiting for me to come bring her home myself.

I grin at the idea. A trip to the mortal world could quickly end this ridiculous torture. At least I would have the chance to see her in the flesh.

She could get her anger out and then return home with me. At this point, a curse from her lips would sound like music and her fingers curled around my neck would be ecstasy.

In time, that anger might turn to forgiveness and we can all move on from this nonsense.

Present Day

What a dreadful day today has been. I should have returned to my chambers the moment I was given news of a wine shortage because poisoned wine had been found in the castle’s cellars, because that meant I had to suffer through the small council’s bickering mostly sober, followed by hours of grievance hearings from folk. For a kingdom full of people who find me utterly incompetent, they sure do make plenty of pleas to the crown.

Only one hour remains until I can leave the presence of my court and scout for my own wine to drink, poisoned or otherwise.

“Cardan…?” Nicasia said with the air of a question.

I respond with a non-committal sound before glancing in her direction to my left. Again, she had found a seat nearest mine, despite my repeated reminder that she was no longer entitled to that spot. We were nothing beyond friends with a bit of history, even if my entire council, mother, and Nicasia herself thought it was ridiculous to prolong a “land-sea” alliance any longer.

I turn back to the conversation I had been ignoring and make an appropriate response, before quickly tuning them out again. Courtiers have nothing better to do than waste my time.

Admittedly, I could see my advisors’ point and I haven’t exactly fought to deny Nicasia’s advances anymore. Not when the one I want has rejected me entirely, favoring a mortal over me and forsaking our kingdom to my inadequate rule.

If I were a kinder soul, I might have been content to see her happy and adjusted to the mortal world, but I am not. I hate myself for sending her away and I hate her just as much for not wanting to return. Every time someone suggests I marry, I want to scream the truth for the entire kingdom to hear.

I married the mortal Jude Duarte. I did it so she would release her hold over me, but I also did it because I wanted to. I wanted to make her my queen and share this dreaded life with her; the powerful, defiant, occasionally murderous, human woman with all her soft features and perfectly odd ears.

Pride be damned. If she returned, I’d allow her anything. She would never need a geas to command me. She was already a ruler, she deserved the credit. The court would eventually adjust to the idea of a human ruler once they recognized her rule. I would lead the most devoted of her court and in our bedroom, I would further prove to her just how devoted I was by spreading --

Nicasia’s hand sliding over my knee snaps me from my thoughts. The touch of her hand felt sickly wrong considering my thoughts of Jude. I brush her hand aside and purposefully ignore the hurt look on her face. I may allow her into my room on nights where even the wine and the powders cannot bring me peace, but she knows I am far too sober and there are too many people around for that.

At the edge of my peripheral I see a dark shadow approaching. The Roach; always a welcomed distraction usually armed with wonderfully bad news.

“Come to tell me of another attempt on my life?” I murmur as he bows down to whisper in my ear.

“You are needed at once, your majesty” the goblin reports.

At that, I laugh but make no effort to move. “There is a first for everything. What is it?” I am happy to use whatever matter it is as an excuse to leave, but I am curious what requires my attention that the spies could not handle themselves.

“Jude has returned. She is waiting to see you.”

His words hit like the hilt of a sword to the chest. I stand, jumping the courtier closest to me.

“I have matters to attend to. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” I say to no one in particular, trying to ignore the loud pounding in my ears as my heart threatens to beat out of my chest.

I begin to follow the Roach out of the room when I feel a hand on my arm.

“What is going on?” Nicasia asks, her eyes wide. I shake out of her grasp.

“It is a matter of great importance that does not concern you.” Instead of moving away, like my body demands to, I move in closer to her so only she can hear me. “I meant my words in the gardens. Do not show up this evening or any evening again.”

Her mouth fell slightly open as water rimmed her eyes. I didn't stay for her response, instead I turned back and followed the Roach into the tunnel, knowing every step was bringing me closer to Jude. As we stalk through the hallways, I cannot slow the questions bombarding my mind.

Did she decide against her life in the mortal world? Did she miss me as I have missed her? What should I say to her? Will she allow me to embrace her? Should I announce her return tonight?

I have envisioned dozens of scenarios of what I would say or do when she returned, but now that she is only a few steps away I have no plan past seeing her, holding her if I can, to make sure she is real and not my imagination come to life.

We take the final turn that I know leads to the headquarters for the Court of Shadows when Livier blocks the doorway.

“Where is she?”

I watch as her face contorts. She opens her mouth to respond before closing it again, clearly unsure how to answer. I don’t have patience for this. I have to see her now.

“Move Livier,” I demand.

How many months has it been since we had fallen asleep together after our vows? How long has it been that I’ve felt her pressed against me?

“Cardan, wait!” She exclaims as I try to move past her. “She doesn’t want to see you.”

I stop dead at her words.

Before I can speak, the Roach asks for me, “What do you mean? She sent us to get him.”

The pixie nods. “Yes. She went to the royal chambers, but she returned soon after and has stated she does not wish to speak.”

I cannot help the bite to my words. “To speak to anyone, or just me?”

Her silence gives me my answer. “Why?” I spit out.

She is on the other side of the wall. It has been months, what about my room could have made her decide against seeing me? A darker thought crosses my mind; what if she has decided to return to the mortal world again? The idea threatens to break me then and there in the dark tunnels beneath the castle.

Livier looks at her companion with unease.

“Why?” I demand again.

The Bomb swallows before explaining, “When she returned, she asked how long you and the Princess of the Undersea had been back together.”

My desperation melted into cruel pitiful laughter. She was jealous of Nicasia, while she had herself a human plaything. The hypocrisy was grand. I wonder how her face would look when I asked about the man and how she could possibly blame me when she broke our vows first. My laughter quickly fizzled into a frozen anger.

I needed to leave before the weight of the situation could bear down on me. In all my imaginations, I never predicted this. I had hoped she’d run to my arms or more realistically, slap me followed up with a kiss. But never returning and refusing to see me.

I want to beg to see her. Beg for her forgiveness. Beg her to stay even if she hates me.

As a king, I have every right to go wherever I please. But as a queen, she has the right to deny entry to anyone. So I turn in the tight hallway and take the turn that leads to my rooms.

She is home. She wouldn’t see me, but she is home, which meant I could fix this. She might not see me tonight, but I would win her forgiveness and maybe her love too.

****

After almost two weeks of announcements and planning, Jude’s coronation ball will begin soon. I have still yet to see her in person, but through messengers and letters she agreed to rule with me and begrudgingly accepted my proposal for a party to celebrate her return and status.

The actual coronation will not take place for another few weeks due to the time needed to gather all the court’s representatives, but this evening would be a full celebration nonetheless. She is home and that enough is cause to celebrate.

The party will also finally force Jude out of the shadows. I suspect she has moved around the castle quite a bit as I heard she met with her sisters and the Living Council, but she has made a careful effort to avoid me.

There have been several times where I have made it all the way to her door before deciding to leave and giving her the space she demands. For months now, I have had dreams of the moment we saw each other again; I have imagined her vulgar words and sweet touches. Tonight is the last night I can imagine because in a matter of hours I will see her again. For the evening, she will have no choice but to stand in the same room as me. I already announced her as my wife and Elfhame’s High Queen. After this evening, she can avoid me outside of official business, if she wishes. It would be devastating, but no more devastating than how it felt when she was gone.

I pace back and forth in my chambers thinking through all the details of the evening since I have nothing better to do. I dressed long ago in a suit twin to the dress I had sent for Jude. If I thought the last dress I designed for her was stunning, I am not sure I’ll be able to survive seeing her in tonight's creation. I gave the tailor a sketch of a silver gown with a fitted bodice and twin streams of fabric that flow from the shoulders. The hope was to create an illusion of the armor she seemed to favor. I doubt the tailor will disappoint and frankly, Jude could wear an old sack and still be devastatingly beautiful.

Before long I receive the signal to head to the ballroom. As I enter the room, I admire for the first time the servant’s efforts to fulfill my image for the evening. The decoration for a typical revel was nothing compared to the fanfare visible this evening. Long strings of lights and streamers hung from the ceiling and sweet and savory treats of all varieties are piled high on trays. The musicians and other entertainment for the evening are already in full swing keeping the guests happy and amused.

As is customary, the party has been going on for some time now, before the king and now queen enter. The center of the space is filled with revelers dancing and singing. At any other party, I would have gladly joined, but I cannot help the pooling sense of unease as I glance through the crowding looking for a particular face.

I do find the face I am looking for, but not the right person. Taryn is standing on the side of the dance floor chatting with some courtier. Locke is nowhere to be seen, which is for the best. If I notice him even causing Jude to frown this evening, I will have him locked in the dungeons for the night.

I occupy myself with some wine while I wait and use the opportunity to boast of Jude’s brilliance to anyone who decides they wish to speak with me. After about a dozen of these conversations, I finally catch a glimpse of her walking into the room with Vivianne at her side.

My Jude.

I admire her with total abandon. She is absolutely stunning. The movement of her steps causes the fabric to shimmer as it flows obscenely over her body. While I will imagine her in this dress for many nights to come, it is the crown that sits atop her head that captures my attention.

The crowd cheers at her arrival and many bow to her. While she keeps her emotions well concealed, I can see the smallest of smiles appear on her face. She enjoys the recognition. Seeing her now, if I could have given her this from the start I would have.

My heart-stopping queen.

I stay to the side where I am and watch her enjoyment from afar. She dances with her sisters from time to time and speaks to members of the gentry with ease. I know she has noted my presence, even if she has yet to look in my direction. When it is time to address the crowd, it is my turn to avoid her direction. I keep my speech to the folk short, enough to praise her and remind anyone who may be considering treason exactly who Jude Duarte is. At the final toast, I steel myself before addressing her directly.

“Welcome home, Jude.”

Our eyes meet for the briefest of moments, burning with a million unspoken words before she breaks away and turns to address the now-growing crowd around her.

It was the first time she acknowledged me since the morning I sent her away and suddenly the emotion behind that realization hits me all at once. I let my eyes linger on her turned back a moment longer, before downing my drink and disappearing into the gardens to wallow in my own self pity.

I told myself I would be happy if she just returned home, but now I realize how badly each moment I spend away from her aches. In school, I hated the way I longed for her. I had chalked it up to being a disgraceful obsession; one I would have been glad to be rid of whatever that meant for Jude. Now, I am equally obsessed with my mortal queen, but rather than having just my thoughts occupied with her, I feel a feral desperation to be near her, to set things right with her.

It is not uncommon for me to be followed, but when I hear soft steps behind me, the last person I expect to turn and see is Jude. Her brown eyes widened in surprise, as if she was not the one following me. We both stare at each other for a half a second too long, before Jude mumbles something and turns to leave. I take her by the arm before she can take a single step away. I won’t let her get away a second time.

“Ask me how hideous you look tonight,” the words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them.

She turns back to face me. I loosen my hold on her arm, but let my hand linger until she decides to brush it away.

“This again?” She asks, sounding more tired than annoyed. I didn’t realize how much I missed her voice.

Desperate to hear her again, I reply, “I can’t. You look like a knight from a story tonight.” A filthy story, perhaps.

Jude’s cheeks pinken as she shifts away from me. If I wasn’t afraid to lose her, I might have found her unease at my closeness cute.

“I’m glad to see the kingdom is still in one piece.” Jude acknowledges, changing the subject away from her. The distance between us feels infinitely greater than the foot of space physically separating us. I’d give anything to embrace her now.

“I had help,” I state simply. It is the truth. The Court of Shadows kept tabs on everyone, friends and enemies, and the Living Council for all the headaches they cause me, they did their job as well.

“Nicasia?” Jude didn’t try or simply failed to hide the accusation in the question.

I sigh heavily and take a seat on one of the garden’s benches. “Ahh that. Yes, it is about time we talked.” I motion for her to join me, to which she refuses.

“I don’t want to hear anything about the two of you. I understand we married out of political strategy, I won’t hold you to human standards of monogamy.” Jude echos my sigh, “After your letters, I thought… Well, I misunderstood the situation.”

My core twists at the way her voice trembled on the words. When did her pain stop being cruel amusement and instead became a twin knife that hurts us both?

“I meant every word in those letters” I murmured softly. How many times had I imagined this conversation before?

Anger burns across her face, “So, what? You got bored of waiting for me to return from the exile YOU-” she jams her pointer finger into my chest hard enough to bruise, “ordered! Maybe next time make sure your letters are actually delivered or perhaps don’t send me away in the first place.”

I stand, challenging her anger with my own. “You think I wouldn’t have waited? I went to bring you home. I saw you dancing with the mortal. Don’t pretend I was the first to stray.”

I expected more anger, denial perhaps, but not... confusion?

“What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t been with anyone else,” Jude yells exasperated.

“The blond male. I came to see you and…” I trail off when Jude laughs suddenly. “What could possibly be funny?”

She covers her face with her hands, shaking her head side to side, “Cardan, you saw me with a friend. Nothing ever happened between us, ever.”

Shame washes over me like a tidal wave. I had returned from that trip thinking Jude had made her decision to forget me and stay behind. I had walked straight into a revel and drank every drop of wine in sight. Nicasia found me a few hours later laying in the grass outside the castle and when she came near I did the one thing I thought would make me feel better.

Nicasia had been the first to notice me, my first real friend then lover. After Jude, I thought she could be the thing I needed again, but I was wrong. It didn’t take long for me to realize it would never be as it was before because my heart still belonged to Jude. If I had only spoken to Jude that night in the mortal world, none of this would have happened.

“I believed the reason for your continued absence was because you were still mad. I thought I could go to the mortal world and convince you to come home, but I saw you with the mortal man. I did not handle the thought of you with another well. Nicasia was there when I got back and… I let her into my bed, but it was you that I thought of every moment you were gone.”

Several emotions ripple across her face before she quickly schooled her face into the impenetrable mask she wears around others. She wears around me too. I continue before the fear of her rejection can stop me.

“There are no tricks within my words, so please hear me when I promise you, Jude, mortal High Queen of Elfhame, it is you I love. My heart is yours and forever will be. There will be no other’s, and if you choose to have me again, it will only be you.”

I raise my hand to cup her face and watch as her eyes flutter close. My name falls off her lips like a plea and I think it might be the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. I lower myself to meet her soft lips. Her hands soon find the front of my jacket and I don't fight when she tugs me closer to her.

Without breaking the kiss, I use my free hand to grip her lower back and pull her back into the garden seat with me. On my lap, Jude opens herself up to me and I greedily take in more of her, missing the taste of her. I can’t help but continue to caress her body with my fingertips, long after we break to catch our breath. I place a series of kisses along her neck, each more drawn out than the last before I speak the cruel fact still on my mind, “of all my terribleness, the worst thing I ever did was what I did to you.”

It hurts knowing I can speak those words aloud. I reach up to wipe a stray tear that has fallen from her eyes.

“Will you have me again, Jude?” My heart pounds in the wake of the question. I watch as she considers it. Truthfully, I wouldn't blame her if she refused me, but it would be torturous to have her so near and not mine.

Slowly, she gives a subtle nod and I don’t hide my sigh of relief. She stares at me for a second longer, before smiling, “I love you, Cardan."

I capture her lips again, finding her more addictive than the sweetest wine.

“My sweet nemesis, how glad I am you have returned.”

Tag List: @wafflesandschemingfaces

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cherrysha · 4 years ago

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Run

Remember when i posted abt lumberjack a/b/o Uvo? well here it is!! shoutout again to ram fr helping me with this piece!! This is my first attempt at a longer story with more plot. Part of me wanted to break it up into more chapters but I like the build up thats there by keeping it in one piece. Its my take on abo (I know some people love it and some absolutely hate it but the lewding potential was too much for me to pass up) Very loosely based off of this song by hozier

Summary: Alphas are rare, Omegas even moreso. The standard for society is being a Beta, but unfortunately you weren’t born as one. Being an Omega is a presentation so detestable that it’s hard to even survive. In an era where it’s completely normal to cast you from the village for simply existing, to keep you blind from what it is to truly be an Omega, will there be any respite for you? (Yes, this is a period piece)

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: A/B/O, dubcon (since the readers in heat), predator/prey, a little blood, one slap, breeding, overstimulation, unprotected sex

“Do you ever get the feeling that they are lying to you?” you stare at the weathered wooden boards of the porch before you dare to glance at her face. The miller’s daughter was an omega as well, and often you found yourself gravitating to her if only out of comfort. The one of few in the village that could relate to you. She looked so soft in the morning sun, so lighthearted and gentle as she picked at the frayed patchwork of her dress.

“I don’t like to think about it too much or else I scare myself, y/n” she giggles.

So Naïve.

You mull it over before coming to the conclusion that you and her are not the same. “I guess I understand”

Her father always says she’s too kind, but that’s exactly what was so endearing. A world where it was normal to treat people like you and her as lesser, and she was still so kind. Absently, you wondered if you'd ever see her again after her next heat. It had been too long since an omega went missing.

“Will you still be walking with me to the market?”

“Ah, mother seems to have found some extra fabric that had been tucked away somewhere, so I suppose not. However, I’m glad you came to visit y/n!” she giggles as you stick your tongue out at her like a child.

The walk there gives you an opportunity to think of her words. Was denial better than the fear that came along with the truth?

Plenty of omegas had gone missing. When you were younger, the elders would tell you that there was a man who lived on the edge of the forest. He wasn't an alpha, or a beta, or even an omega. He was only a monster.

The path stretches before you and the heat of the summer sun is almost enough to make you turn around. But you persist, the idea of returning home empty handed was enough to make you ignore the sting on the back of your neck.

This man, this beast, would eat omegas. That’s why it was important to return home before dark, the man in the forest used the cover of night to hunt; to take. that’s why omegas always went missing in the village.

You momentarily take refuge in the cool water in the creek on the outskirts of the village, watching idly as water swirled around your bare feet.

When were you old enough to realize the flaws of that story? Was it your first heat? When with shaky hands, your mother had packed you enough provisions for the week and whispered for you to leave? Or was it the anger in your father’s voice when you asked to stay and he bitterly told you that omegas only brought misfortune?

You sigh. No, it was the day you'd found out one of the few remaining omegas hadn’t come back and that truth had only been a hard pill to swallow for you. No one seemed to care, it was as if the man in the forest didn’t scare them, had never scared them.

Not much sooner had you made the connection. Alphas were few and far between, but omegas were even more scarce. The ones who couldn’t find omegas settled down with betas, but what would a married alpha do when an unclaimed omega went into heat? Only the forest knew.

Sometimes you wished the beast was real, and still the lie had persisted. The younger omegas believed it to be the wood smith and while he was a recluse, so much so that you'd never even seen him, he was far too young to be the monster from your youth. He’d only made his appearance in the village every so often, and in truth he hadn’t lived in the area for that long. You let them hold on to their delusion instead, not wanting to be the one to burst their bubble.

Your heat was many moons away, but the fear of living still persisted.

The water feels nice on your neck, gentle and cooling as you scoop handfuls of it over your burning skin. It makes you forget about everything for a second, soothing over you like an expensive balm. Somehow, It reminds you of when you were little, before you presented and the friends you'd made in the village. Small and unassuming, no worries about presentation or etiquette. Just young and carefree. The thought brings a smile to your face.

Now, boys your age would rather die than be seen with an Omega, not that you cared about their indifference. In their minds it was completely warranted, and in yours the Betas had nothing to offer you. You both saw each other as fundamentally useless. No one gave mind to insects, most of the time they were just there. Some were cruel, yes, but most went their way, and you went yours. That was the best you could ask for.

Sighing, you pick the coin purse out of your pocket, taking a moment to count the few coins your mother had given you.

It was barely enough to buy thread, but you weren’t surprised. Her and father were still angry that you'd ripped another hole in your dress again since it was one of the little clothing items they had granted you. If it weren’t for the fact that the hole steadily became bigger, threatening the integrity of the entire garment, you don’t think it would’ve been mended at all.

The wind swirls around you, reminding you of your task and the repercussions of wasting time.

With a grunt, you force yourself back up and onto the road, sidestepping a rather large man carrying probably one of the largest baskets of wood you'd ever seen.

Mother says that its impolite to stare, so you don’t let your gaze linger for too long, but the sight was unusual to say the least. He’s tall, so tall in fact that you have to peer up to even try to see his face, eventually you give up and your gaze ends at the well toned muscles of his chest that are thinly veiled underneath a rather dingy tunic. You couldn’t judge him, right now you were wearing the same dress that desperately needed patching up. Still, he was somewhat of an unbelievable height, it was hard not to wonder of his presentation. Surely, there couldn’t be Betas that tall, but it was even more so unbelievable for him to be an Alpha. The Alphas in your town were well known, their large presence in the village applauded by most and avoided by Omegas. Like the tavern owner with wandering hands under the guise of drunkenness and the butcher who stared a little too long that one might find it indecent.

as you make your way through the village opening you can feel his presence pressing closer behind you with each step. It’d be easier to know for certain if the wind carried his scent, but at the present moment it was blowing yours in his direction, a thought that was a little unnerving to you. Nevertheless, you persisted, pushing past the mounting feeling in your chest that seemed to get worse the louder his footsteps became behind you. Surely, he was just selling the basket on his back at the market. And since he was a stranger to you, It would make sense for him to follow you so closely there if he wasn't from the village.

You let yourself relax, tense shoulders easing up as you finally come to the only conclusion that made sense. You were an Omega; A Beta had no better reason to follow you other than directions.

The sun still beats overhead, making the exposed skin of your face damp with sweat. With little thought, you wipe it away with the handkerchief stashed inside your pocket. It was little more than torn fabric that mother had no use for, but you appreciated when she had given it to you nonetheless.

The market wasn't busy for this time of day, which you were grateful for. Less people to cast you a distasteful glare as you silently perused through the stalls in search for thread. It only takes a few moments to find it at a stand with colorful fabrics, pins and needles and textiles that were definitely worth more than anything you'd ever own.

The smile on your face lights up as you find the cheapest option available, speaking quietly to the stall owner you ask for it.

You're met with silence, its only when you look at them that you realize they aren’t even looking at you. Instead, you follow their gaze behind you, to the burly man who had somehow gotten close enough to block out your view of the sun.

“Gorgeous too, huh?” he smiles down at your shocked face, even daring to lean down, hand gripping your jaw to force your head up, leaving your neck exposed to him. He’s not quick about it either, his nose coming to scent you as he indulges himself in the smell he finds there.

“And where have you been hiding?” he whispers it, a secret between the both of you that your too scared to acknowledge. In stark contrast, you've been rooted to the spot, too scared to do much of anything as the complete stranger ungracefully takes his time mulling you over.

It’s a funny thing, he can smell just how frightened you are, but it doesn’t mask the scent that made him follow you in the first place.

The scene is far too intimate for such a public space, and subconsciously, you're aware of that. You know this isn’t right, you shouldn’t be letting yourself get so carried away by the stranger, even if he does smell wonderful. Nothing like any Alpha you’ve met. Although his presence is completely overwhelming, his scent isn’t, and he lets out a breathless laugh when you subtly try to scent him back.

The only thing that snaps you back to reality is the stall owner clearing their throat, forcing you to realize how blatantly improper you were being. It’s far too embarrassing to handle, and mortification sets into your bones. The man pays them no mind, instead using one of his large hands to slam a few bills onto the counter.

“Whatever she wants” his voice comes out as a low and guttural thing, hoarse from days of disuse, as his breath fans across your face. He thinks it’s cute, the way your eyebrows shoot up makes his grin even wider.

With shaky hands you point to the cheapest bobbin of thread, hands fumbling for your coin purse before he grabs your wrist. “What did I say, Omega?” its stern, but all you can manage to do is bumble over your words, eyes cast downwards as you try to ignore the embarrassment settling on your face. He was just trying to be nice, maybe he was a tad bit uncivilized about it, but his impropriety shouldn’t make it okay to decline such a kind offer. The thread is taken from the counter, his hand slowly ruffling the folds of your dress as he finds your pocket and drops it in.

At this point you’ve become a spectacle, passersby muttering not so subtly about just how close you are to him, how rude it was to make a scene like that in public. With a cough you back away, surprised to find that he doesn’t follow, only aims a grin at you as he continues to stare. Not wanting to leave on a sour note, you ask

“What’s your name?”

Maybe one day you could repay the favor, although he didn’t look like the type to need to buy thread. He didn’t look like the type to care that much about his appearance at all, if you were being honest.

“its Uvogin. Gimme what’s in your pocket.”

“The thread?” with a wolfish smile he shakes his head no. It takes you a moment but clumsily you pad at the dress before finally finding your pocket and dipping your hand in to pull out the tiny wad of fabric in question. The only other thing in your pocket besides your coin purse. Your handkerchief. You don’t think about it as you hand it over to Uvogin, your head feels fuzzy just by his proximity. Don’t even think about how closely he must’ve been watching you to see that you had one, or how long he’d been doing so as he walked behind you and into the market. Right now, he could ask for a lot of things and you'd gladly hand it all to him with no second thoughts about it.

“You should head home. Maybe get some rest before it happens” he leans closer to sniff at your throat one last time, albeit a lot quicker than he had in the past “Although, I don’t think you’ll have much time.” The end of his sentence comes out in as a laugh, jovial enough to make you forget how sinister his final words were. With little grace, you slowly backpedal, eyes still on his before you turn around and walk out the way you came.

You smell. You reek of him. It’s the only thought in your mind as you clutch at yourself tightly, eyes cast downwards to avoid the shame of looking at others. There wasn't a pair of eyes that didn’t linger on you, most likely smelling exactly what you smelled; The stench of an Alpha. So thick and cloying that you couldn’t pretend it was anything other. Maybe you could rinse it off in the creek before you got home, but you doubted it. The smell permeated through your dress and settled into your bones. Quickly, you head out of the village and towards the sound of running water.

He was handsome, his scent so alluring that it made your mind wander as you tried desperately to rinse it off of your skin. A hint of sweat, pine and something sweet you had no name for. Sitting on your haunches, you let out a whine at the fact that nothing you did could rinse it off, and part of you didn’t want to, anyway. He’d ruined your dress by doing little more than touching it. If your parents smelled it, who knows what they would do. Probably cast you out like they’d planned on doing when you tore your dress. Any little infraction was worth your disappearance. This would give them every reason not to want you around.

It seemed to be getting hotter. So hot in fact you were half tempted to wade into the creek, dress and all, just to get the feeling to go away. The sun had been hidden by an overcast sky, clouds threating to burst at any moment, and you prayed they would. It could drown out any scent lingering on your skin, your clothes, the far recesses of your mind that held onto it like a bloodhound. Why was it so hot?

Wordlessly, you waded into the water, thinking little of the repercussions of coming home with a sopping wet dress as you sat down, letting the stream flow over you and around your shoulders. It felt soothing at first, like a cool bath when you were sick, but all too soon the water felt just as warm as you were. It. Was enough to elicit another strangled whine from your throat.

Slowly you stood, the weight of the fabric hugging tighter against your skin all too noticeable. This wasn't right. The sun was gone, the water cool, so why did you feel so sick all of a sudden?

It took a minute to fully accept it, as part of you didn’t want to. But you couldn’t excuse the need growing in your abdomen as anything else.

You had to leave here, quick. Get as far away from the village as possible. Away from the Omegas and your family, away from everything in order to have a chance at saving yourself.

Wading out of the water, you give no pause to the way your skirts cast dark droplets onto the dry ground.

With little to no hesitation, you make your way back onto the road before veering right, into the underbrush as you picked up the pace. Before, you'd have a day’s head start to get as far away as possible, but this was different. The telltale signs of your heat stirring low in the pit of your belly was a fortnight too early. Your thoughts were already starting to fog around the edges, an in a few hours all you'd be able to do was cry out from the sheer pain of it all.

With every step you find yourself walking faster, legs getting whipped by the low lying brambles. The way they so easily tear into your skin going almost unnoticed by you in your sheer panic. It wasn't supposed to be this way, it’s a type of confusion that adds on to the delirium already buffing away at your subconscious.

After a few minutes of running, only your panicked gasps keeping you company, the clouds burst above you. Fat drops soaking the underbrush and you along with it. In no time the ground beneath your feet becomes even more treacherous, mud and leaves and errant roots making you stumble and fall at every opportunity. After one nasty fall, you can't help but sit for a moment, a manic chuckle ripping through your chest as you examine your skinned palms. Your dress is filthy, the tear even larger than it had been when you set out this morning. Absently you wonder if mother will let you try to mend it before she casts you out for it. Without looking down at your legs, you already know the bruises that will be there from every bump and fall you’ve taken on your little journey. It does little to worry you, once the adrenaline wore off, maybe then you'd feel yourself start to care again.

With a sigh you let yourself rest. Hypervigilance slipping as you gaze up at the canopy in awe. How could rain be so loud?

Mentally, you try to assess your location. There was a place not far from here that served as your hideaway in times like these. A fissure in the face of a sheer cliff, only big enough for you and any other Omega that had the misfortune of being cast out into the woods. It wasn't much, the crack was uncovered, the rain and wet still able to reach you, but that wasn’t what was important.

Standing up gives you a better view of your surroundings. With little thought you start to head in the direction you remembered, down the slope of the hill in hopes of finding your salvation at the bottom.

It doesn’t take long before you hear it. Crackling branches under heavy, heavy footsteps. It’s not a promising sign, to say the very least. Feverishly you pick up the pace, mind racing as you try to figure out who would’ve followed you. It’s not like you did much to hide where you were going, in truth you didn’t think about it at all. Mind glazing over, you don’t notice the thick tree root that’s in your way, stumbling over it as your palms meet the forest floor once again. Ungracefully, your body tumbles easily down the rest of the slope, a cry leaving you as you hit the ground repeatedly.

Uvo’s laugh is audible over the thunderous sound of rain. Its jarring. A wretched reminder that you're actively being hunted down like an animal.

“Sounds like I’m getting close, huh?” he yells, still too far away for you to see him under the darkened canopy. His voice echoes and you can't tell where exactly he is behind you, only knowing that its entirely too close for comfort. Hazily, your mind makes the connection, his voice rattling back in your ears over and over again as you pick yourself up.

You can’t say that you've gotten any faster after realizing who exactly was chasing you. The ache in your body from multiple falls was finally catching up to you, along with the heat that was settling low in the pit of your stomach that seemed to be burning even brighter than a few minutes ago.

After a few minutes of running, you see it and almost sob with relief. Thick with vines, the opening of the rockface, your salvation, is almost within distance.

“I hope you're not thinkin’ of doing what I think you're gunna do.” Its not a yell. Not anything other than an irritated statement thrown so casually and so, so close to you that it causes goosebumps to rise on the back of your neck. Quickly, you look behind you, a slight yip leaving your throat as you take in the distance between the both of you.

In a last ditch effort, your body works on autopilot. Fear drives you, pushes you faster and faster until the only thing you can hear is the thrumming of your own heart in your ears. He’s loud behind you, yelling something unintelligible as you try to make your escape. You're within reaching distance of the opening now, but his hands grab at you. The slickness of the rain serves in your favor. Easily you slip from his grasp, body lurching forward and into the opening as he tears at the shoulder of your dress.

The air surrounding him seems to vibrate with raw anger, something akin to a roar tearing through him at just how close he’d come to having you.

Big hands come to slam against either side of the opening as he peers down at your shrunken form. Chest heaving, the rain glints off of his skin and the image alone is enough to make you whimper in submission. He’s so tall, broader than any Alpha you'd seen, and he’s incredibly angry. Uvo’s gaze doesn’t leave you as the seconds tick by. After a few moments of him trying, and failing, to collect himself he finally speaks

“I’m not gunna hurt ya, now come here” he says, and it sounds sincere enough that your fuzzy brain almost believes him. Almost gives in to the temptation of his scent, his open arms goading you to leave the small space.

“I don’t believe you” you whine, shaking your head ‘no’ as if he wouldn’t understand the meaning of your words.

It’s so unbelievably hot. The fat drops of rain hitting your face and soaking you through to your very core did little to relieve the feeling. if anything, it overwhelmed your heightened senses, every little drop on your skin felt like something you needed to pay close attention to.

“Just wanna make you feel better” the statement alone forces a whimper out of your throat, body edging backwards as if to physically deny him

“You can't make me feel better, no one in this damn town can make me feel better.” it’s a lot more hysterical than you meant it, but Uvo’s face contorts in confusion all the same.

It’s quiet for a moment as he assesses you. Big green eyes rake over your shivering form, more anger than pity bubbling to the surface of his features as he realizes how much he doesn’t like what he sees.

“You don’t know anything, huh?” he mumbles to himself, letting one of his large hands swipe away the excess water on his face before settling on his hip “What’s it gunna take for you to come out then?”

You want to tell him to leave, to let you be alone but another part of you wants something. Something you can't explain enough to even know yourself.

“Just don’t hurt me, okay?” no matter how much you try to calm yourself down it still comes out too whiny and nasally for your liking.

Uvo laughs at that, boisterous and loud and it almost seems to overpower the sound of heavy rain hitting the tree branches around you.

“I just told you I wouldn’t, you forget that already?” you have half a mind to nod in affirmation, “Come on out then” he gestures towards you, wolfish smile marring his face.

As if to try and soothe you, he asks for your name. The question eats away at the open air before you finally find your voice enough to answer him.

In the quiet that precedes your answer you realize numbly that It’s getting darker out. You have no provisions and now you’re drenched. If you didn’t listen and stayed put, the rest of your heat would be torture. There’s a lot to consider, truthfully too much to consider in your current state. The ramifications of your actions, the honesty of the large man in front of you, the means in which he planned to help, how long you could actually survive out here without him. Your brain functions moved with the viscosity of syrup. The more you thought about it all, the less it seemed to make sense.

Quietly, you make your way to the opening, Uvo lets out an excited laugh as you crawl ever closer to him. It doesn’t take more than a few steps before a gasp is being torn from you as he grabs you by the arm, pulling you completely out and into his embrace. It feels nice, albeit a little jarring, but you won’t deny the full feeling in your chest at his proximity. A big and sturdy hand rakes up your side as the other holds you to his chest.

With little thought, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, relishing in the scent that hasn’t been completely washed away by the rain. Its calming, maybe he’s pumping out pheromones to induce that emotion within you, but at the same time it makes the coil in the pit of your stomach reach incredibly high temperatures. It hurts, oh god, it hurts

“Hurts, huh? I can fix that.” You don’t remember saying it aloud, but the burly man responds quickly by tearing the flimsy fabric of your dress, making sure to rip through your underwear as well. When you whine at the sensation all he does is mutter “Didn’t expect me to let you keep that ratty thing did you?”

It’s a makeshift blanket once he tosses it onto the ground, saving your back from most of the drenched forest floor as Uvo sets you down, his own body hovering over yours. His warmth is so nice, nothing like what’s eating you up inside, and with needy hands you run your fingers through his hair, a high pitched whine leaving your throat at the groan you coax from him.

“Fuck” he growls “M’gunna knot you so good. Bet it’ll only take one time before I get you nice and round”

You nod up at him, delirious and wanting. The only thing on your mind being the feel of him under your fingers.

With little finesse, Uvo thumbs at the opening of your sex before sliding over the bundle of nerves that lies just above it. He smiles at the confusion on your face before slowly, slowly sinking one of his large fingers inside of your heat. Your body writhes with broken sobs at the feeling. Its unlike anything you ever experienced before.

“All this for me, huh? Must really want it.” It comes out in a huff, his smile ever growing as you nod in affirmation. You can hear the slickness he’s referring to as his finger pumps in and out of you.

Right now the wind was bustling, rain beating down harder than it had been all night, but all that you could feel was the comfort Uvo gave you. As if his wandering hands were stroking your very soul.

Unbeknownst to you, Uvo’s already dipped another digit inside of you, marveling at the way your body so easily opens up to his touch. It’ll only take him a few more minutes of his fingers dutifully scissoring you open before he’s able to lay his claim.

“Doesn’t hurt, does it?” he smiles as you shake your head, mouth open and panting as your lovestruck gaze meets his “Of course it doesn’t.”

He takes his time, languid strokes and teasing bites against your chest. No rush in his movements until you brokenly sob for him. The feeling in your gut was only getting worse with every movement. With weak hands you claw at him, trying desperately to pull his body closer.

His hand moves from your cunt, popping his digits in his mouth with a groan. When he finally sucks them clean, his hands go to his belt, “Impatient little thing” whispered from his lips.

The sight alone makes your mouth water. Too long and jarringly thick, his cock slaps up against his stomach.

“Gunna make you feel a loot better” he mumbles, taking himself in hand. God, you want it, want every bit of him no matter the repercussions. He kneels above you, chest wet and heaving with excitement as his gaze lingers on your exposed pussy. A Grecian God chiseled from marble and sent here just for you.

With steady hands he presses you your legs up, folding you in half until hes achieved the angle he’s looking for. You have no choice but to comply, whimpering as he guides himself into your aching cunt.

The stretch of it burns, it makes your body quake almost as if the size of his cock alone has rendered you weak. It’s an overwhelming sensation that eats away any rational thought until you can only focus on the piercing sharpness of it.

“Stop, please, s’too much.” You can't recognize the sound of your own voice. Its hoarse as if you'd been yelling for hours. Uvogin buries his nose in your neck again, hands coming up to press your legs to even further against your chest.

“Here… got somethin’ to take your mind off it”

With little warning his teeth are in your neck, tearing a wretched scream from your throat as Uvo draws blood. True to his word, he sinks the entirety of his length within you without your notice. Only thing on your mind is the feeling of your flesh being torn open by him, claimed by him.

There’s’ little compassion in the way his hips snap against yours. Its brutal, making you cry out even more as the force of it jostles the teeth still buried snugly in your neck. Your hands claw at the ground before eventually settling on his back. Uvo groans at your nails digging into him, spurring him on to go faster, harder, to give you everything he’s got until you drain him dry.

The noise of Uvo thrusting into your warm cunt is loud, almost deafening compared to the rain around you. It’s all you can hear; All you can feel as he doesn’t waste any time in finding the exact spot within you that makes you scream.

Every shift of his hips is maddening. Every sharp thrust enough to push the air out of your lungs. Eventually Uvo’s mouth pulls away from your throat, lapping at the bloodied mess he’d left there. You can't focus on it too much. Can't focus on much of anything at the present moment, only the slick sounds of his cock dragging in and out of you filling your mind.

“Gunna need you to do somethin’ for me, doll” his words are almost too far away for you to hear. As if he’s underwater, it takes a light slap to your face in order for you to process them.

“Huh?” you ask dumbly. You can't remember if your voice always sounded that small. That meek.

“M’not gunna last long with the way you’re suckin’ me in like this” he growls “Gunna need you to bite down.” One of his hands that was previously holding your thigh up reaches for the nape of your neck, pulling you up until your face is flush against the side of his throat. Something is growing inside of you, burning through your very being and he’s the cause of it. It’s mind numbing, this pleasure you’ve never felt before. Lazily you recognize it enough to know that your own orgasm is mere seconds away.

“Right here.” you nod, heat searing through you as his hips stutter. There’s something catching against your cunt now, impeding every kiss of his hips against yours as he struggles to fit the rest of his cock inside.

With an audible groan being your only warning, Uvo cums inside of you. It sears against your insides as something finally stops his movements, his body unable to do anything besides grind against your own. So full, you jerk with the feeling, finally letting the coil inside you snap. The scream that leaves your broken throat is cut off by Uvo shoving your face harder against his neck and, dutifully, you bite down. Its mere instinct driving you, or maybe the need to drown out your warbled cries for him. Either way, the wound makes him laugh, his hand pushing harder against you as if to force your teeth further into his skin. The tang of metal in your mouth does little to stop the ebb and flow of your orgasm as it washes through you. It’s too good, so good in fact you find yourself pulling away only to be met with Uvo’s unshakeable grip. Tears prick at your eyes at the sensitivity of it all, the overwhelming buzz that courses through you with no end in sight.

It takes a minute of blindly thrashing against him before you give up and settle on the wet ground below.

It’s completely pitch dark now and the rain has quieted into a slight drizzle. You can't see him, can only feel as the hand not gripping your neck finally lets your other thigh down to ghost over the plains of your face.

“You're mine now” he whispers. Silently, you nod your head in agreement, not fully understanding the meaning of his words. It didn’t matter. Nothing truly mattered anymore besides the man above you. Uvo presses a lingering kiss to your neck, your jaw, before landing on your spit slicked lips. It’s almost soothing, the gentle touches his attentive hands leave on your body. Soothing enough to make you forget how you got here.

With a gentle tug, he finally pulls out of your sex. The laugh that leaves his throat as his fingers explore the wetness that paints your lower body is euphoric. Soon enough he’s pulling you into his arms and standing up.

“Feel better?” it sounds like more of a statement coming from his mouth, but you nod all the same. As he starts to walk your eyelids droop in exhaustion, mind focused on the way his chest vibrates with every garbled sentence you can't quite hear.

#abo uvogin #uvogin x reader #Uvogin #uvo x reader #uvo

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nellie-elizabeth · 2 years ago

Text

What We Do in the Shadows: Sunrise, Sunset (4x10)

The finale already. This season zipped right by!

Cons:

I honestly felt pretty underwhelmed by this finale, I think because it was focused on the Colin plot, which was ultimately not super successful in my opinion. I get it, he's an angsty teenager now... and then he becomes a full adult and resumes being Colin Robinson, seemingly with no memory of his year being raised by Lazlo. I guess if I describe this scenario, it's kind of funny, but seeing it play out just didn't really make me smile all that much. I am happy to have adult Energy Vampire Colin Robinson back in our lives, though, he really is such a funny part of the show and I'm thinking I might enjoy him again in season five now that we're through the gauntlet.

The night club has officially failed, with Nadja's last terrible idea being to burn it to the ground to get the insurance money, only to discover she doesn't have insurance, and only her office, the room with her secret stash of embezzled money, has burned, the rest of the club untouched because of the blood sprinklers. There were some funny moments here that I'll get to, but again I felt a little underwhelmed.

Just, as an overall statement about this finale... at the end of last week's review I praised the fact that we'd left our characters in dire straights, each of them having lost something that had been their focus all season. This finale continued that, truly setting things back into the familiar patterns we saw all the way back in season one of the show. Nandor's not married, Lazlo's not trying to be a father, Nadja doesn't own a club, Guillermo is single and aimless. And this, of course, is the point. It's stated in the episode, Guillermo laments it.

But the thing is, a story about how things are stagnant is... still a stagnant story. I remember when this season started I had been looking forward to seeing Guillermo and Nadja's antics overseas, the gang split up, new settings and new faces. And then no, we pretty quickly reverted to the status quo, and this season has been about small developments starting to happen, and then all of those developments just going away. So I'm left feeling like this whole season was just treading water, after several of the characters specifically and actively wished for it to change. It's odd, because I think what I'm picking up on is exactly what the show was going for, but that doesn't mean I totally liked it.

The final beat for Guillermo being that he's finally going to become a vampire is great, and I hope we see that happen next season, or maybe it's temporary or he finds out his blood means he can't be changed, but I hope shenanigans ensue from that. At the same time, I worry that what we'll get will be another reset with no real forward motion. There's only so long a show like this can sustain itself under its own momentum, you know?

Pros:

Obviously there were still plenty of funny moments. I loved Guillermo and Lazlo's parenting scenes, especially when they were teamed up together as Colin's two dads. Colin finding the secret entrance and learning the truth of his original life from meticulous diaries was also a good bit. The insurance thing, Nadja literally burning money in her effort to get a payout she was never eligible for, I loved that. Also seeing how the nightclub went downhill, hosting bachelorette parties and kid's birthdays before the end. Nandor's ineffective methods of talking to surly teen Colin Robinson. Colin having a play date with the kids he'd comically outgrown. All very fun.

(And the singing of "Sunrise, Sunset" from Fiddler on the Roof was a nice touch, that did make me smile.)

Also, I do like this as an end point for Guillermo for the season, the way he's refusing to sit back and just let life keep happening to him. As an audience member, you want it to matter, that Nandor hurt Guillermo. You want him to pay penance, to apologize, to realize the depth of his wrong. But Nandor is a vampire. He's just going to spend a couple measly decades reading books, and it doesn't matter to him, because he doesn't conceive of time in the same way humans do. So yeah, I do love that Guillermo has finally had enough, even if I'm not sure how this will actually manifest in any meaningful dynamic shifts moving forward.

In all, I think last week's bonkers and very polarizing episode made this one feel tame by comparison. And tame isn't exactly the note I want to leave on with a season finale. Remember season three's ending, how wild it was, how everything was going to change? Well, here we are. I'm still excited to watch season five, this show still makes me smile every week in numerous ways big and small. But yeah, honestly, I found this finale pretty lackluster.

6.5/10

#review #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows review #wwdits #wwdits review

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saphirered · 3 years ago

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I’m in love with your writing and binged your entire page one night lol

Could I request a story with Caleb where the M9 find a wounded reader on the run from people who want to use her for her very powerful magical abilities. She doesn’t trust Caleb at first because he’s a wizard and just as she opens up to him and starts to develop feelings discovers he has been studying her powers - thought with no bad intentions. Some good old angsty enemies to lovers type of beat. Preferably with a good ending but do what you wish ;))

Apparently I'm giving you more stuff to binge as this is looking more and more like a several parter 😅. Prepare for loads of angst and conflict and some good hurt/comfort to come but for now, here comes part 1! 😘

Nobody pays attention to a vagrant dressed in rags, looking about a week past their last proper bath begging on the side of the road for money or standing by a shop, mouth watering at the food. Nobody pays attention to what they don’t want to see in their pristine cities. Not unless they want to chase you away because you’re in their way or you’re tarnishing their image. Speaking about image, sometimes some rich folk will take pity upon you, casting a coin your way to make themselves look good and generous in the eyes of others.

That’s exactly what you became when you needed to disappear. You needed to become unseen, unnoticed and a shadow among a crowd. You succeed casting away all remainders of your previous life because in the end, your life is worth more to you than your earthly possessions. Survival above all. You’ll live this way until you can get somewhere where no one will question you, or where you’ll be under the protection of others, far away where your enemies cannot reach you. Maybe Vasselheim is a good place to go? They’re not fond of the arcane magics. Sure you’ll have to give up using some of your own gifts but it’s worth being able to live your life freely.

You’re still a ways away from Vasselheim and you don’t have the funds to get there yet. Even if you make it to a port, stowing away on a ship is fine but you can’t trust them to not throw you overboard or leave you stranded at the nearest island to save provisions. And that’s if they don’t hand you over to any authorities and risk you getting back to square one. You’ll have to wander around Wildemount until you’re able to book passage or find somewhere to lay low, forever on the move. It’s not the worst and you get used to it pretty quickly.

Weren’t you lucky when you saw the recent champions of the Victory Pit were strolling around town flaunting their winnings. You need food. You need warm clothes. And most of all, you could do with some extra change in your pocket. You wouldn’t be stupid enough to steal all of it of course. Just enough to get by and they wouldn’t notice. So you trail them, sticking to the shadows. They don’t seem to notice you.

Then you struck. You got the coin pouch from the ostentatious one. It was child’s play really. He didn’t even notice you lifting the pouch from his belt when you brushed against his shoulder muttering an apology. You were already amidst the crowd when you heard the tiefling exclaim his coin pouch was gone and he put two and two together quickly, the charlatan he is so before you knew it they were on the lookout for someone fitting your description. You had to move quick, buy your necessities and get out of the market. You know just the place to hide out; the Evening Nip. Nobody asks questions there.

Once you found yourself safely sipping on the shitty ale served at the Evening Nip you didn’t expect the colourful group of strangers to stroll in. It was already too late when you spotted them and you had no where to go. Still your quickly gathered up the coin back into the ornate velvet pouch and put it in your own pocket hidden beneath the layers of your clothes putting your hands behind your back as you tried to make a break for the exit. They did not let you pass, a relatively buff looking woman gripping the handle of her sword stepping in front of you while another one, though shorter blocked your escape by interposing her staff.

“No funny business, friend. You have something that belongs to my companion here, and he wants it back.” The half-orc speaks as you grit your teeth. You’d really hoped to avoid this but you weren’t stupid enough to bring out the big artillery… yet… so you lift your hands in surrender and allow them to lead you over to one of the tables taking a seat of your own accord while you’re flanked by the buff woman on one side, the purple tiefling on the other and the rest of them takes up seating of their own around the table keeping an eye on you.

“Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way…” The half-orc leads as the tiefling next to you holds out his hand brushing his other over your shoulder in a soft push, mimicking what you had done when you pickpocketed him. Are they mocking you? Bastards.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, friend.” You speak innocently. You know they won’t buy it anyway, their minds already made up, but it gives you just a second more to get a grasp on all of them. You’re already plotting your escape, despite the odds being turned against you. You have to try.

“Oh, I think you do, and we simply want a conversation. You wouldn’t want to tarnish this new friendship now would you?” The tiefling grins as you look at him. You can feel the strings of enchantment pricking into your mind but you know how this works. You’ll just have to play along. You smile, like being faced with an old friend, just as the spell would have you have, letting your defensive mannerism fade.

“You’re quite right. It’s no way to treat new friends. Let’s not get off on the wrong foot.” You glance between all of them and you feel a pair of blue eyes stare into you, right through you. There’s just something about him that doesn’t add up and you’re almost afraid he knows you’re not under the tiefling’s spell after all but you do whatever you can to not show that on your face and play along.

“Should we get some drinks to commemorate new friends?” You suggest about to get up but the woman in blue’s staff moves across the table right onto your shoulder urging you to stay in place. You don’t look fazed and merely amused with this action as if it is a harmless joke and not a threat. The tiefling moves the staff from your shoulder as you turn your attention back to him as he smiles.

“I think that’s an absolutely wonderful idea. Drinks on me.” He stands with you and begins leading you over to the bar. Clive takes the order and begins pouring the ale as requested while the tiefling keeps conversation with you, completely oblivious and detached from his friends. You play along and when you reach to the coin pouch, you pull out the coins owed to the barkeep. The tiefling smiles and you can see from your peripheral the red head notices too. Both confirm you have the coin pouch. So once you pay you reach for your pocket grasping for a short iron rod placing it in your hand, whispering words under your breath as the tiefling talks to the barkeep, your hands begin to move according to the familiar motions and before the redhead can warn his lavender companion, the tiefling is frozen in place unable to move and you’re making a break for the door.

Spells fly left and right and you dodge a few, take the damage from others as the fighters dependant on close range rush for you. A crossbow bolt hits your thigh and a large cat’s claw appears in front of you. You try to dodge it reaching for you but it catches you and holds you in place despite your struggling to get free. They circle you, bind your hands, take back the coin pouch and your own limited belongings from you as you fight back trying to keep them away from you but you’re just alone and they are the many.

You feel helpless and desperate. That’s when you make eye contact with the blue eyed wizard. There’s a look of recognition in his eyes. Not for who you are directly, but the way you’re acting and lashing out, like some caged animal wishing desperately to be free, like a creature on the run, like you’re two sides of the same coin. His eyes reveal to you pain and suffering and pity but you don’t need his pity. You don’t need anyone’s pity.

“Why did you steal that coin?” The wizard asks as you glare at him from your seated position on the ground.

“Why does anybody steal anything? I’m hungry. I’m cold and I’m broke as hell.” You spit none too kindly.

“Then get a job. Make some money. Or at least learn to be a good thief.” The rude woman snorts. You roll your eyes. Typical. You know plenty of people like her, maybe you even used to be like her but not anymore. You grew out of that the hard way. She will too, in time.

“None of you noticed until you went to pay for something.” You grin and the woman is about to lunge for you at your provocation. So easy to piss that one off. Funny, actually.

“I don’t think she can just get a job. Not a regular one anyway.” The wizard observes as he stares into you. “You don’t have anywhere to go, do you?” Your silence, biting your lip says enough. You don’t have anywhere to go. Once you did but that’s gone. Torn away from you.

“How about this? You spent a good deal of my friend’s coin but we’ll give you the opportunity to make it back as a repayment. Stick around for a little bit and go our separate ways when the debt is repaid?” There’s some protests but the half-orc quiets them down when the wizard speaks up in your favour. He doesn’t trust you, not after the stunts you just pulled, especially not when the look on your face mirrors his own so closely but perhaps it’s something within him that calls to him to make right a wrong, or prevent another soul to be lost to the troubles he’s faced.

With these idiots bound to make a scene they’ll call attention to themselves and by default that means away from you. This might work in your favour. They’re adventurers and given that they seem somewhat familiar with the Evening Nip, you can only assume they’re not exactly always on the right side of the law. You’re not judging but that gives you some safety and assurance should things go south or you need a quick way out. And if things really do turn in your favour, they’ll be your cover to places and funds to get you far far away from this hell hole.

“Looks like you got yourselves a new companion then, friends.” You don’t smile, only displaying an expression so neutral that makes the wizard think for a second he might have made a mistake but for now you have mutual interests and if there’s anything he can count on, it’s the reliability of a common goal, and a lot to lose should you get outed.

So next you know, you’re somewhat absorbed into their little group, learning their names and where they’re from, chatting happily but you can’t help but notice that yours and Caleb’s stories are similar in some ways, mostly the lack of detail. You’ve been raised within the Empire, but found yourself on a less fortunate path fending for yourself. The only difference between you and him is that he found Nott on his path while you had remained alone. The group didn’t seem to mind your lack of details, going with the excuse you’re not about to bare your life story to the people you only just met and you’re lucky. You hadn’t told anyone what happened since you’ve been on the run and you don’t plan on doing so anytime soon, especially not to people who haven’t earned your trust yet.

Of course you’ve been roomed with Caleb and Nott, finding yourself in one of the most expensive inns in the city, paid for by the group. Unlike Nott, who goes through your stuff when she thinks you’re not looking, Caleb is the perfect roommate. He doesn’t cross any boundaries, ask too many questions or has any annoying habits. He just reclines on his bed, going through his spellbook, transcribing new spells to add to his own collection. Every time he does you get extremely uneasy and snappy and do whatever you can to not be in the same space as the wizard. It doesn’t do your roommate relationship any good and may leave you at odds at times. Caleb may not understand why but it’s not his place to ask questions, nor does he think you’ll actually answer them. Instead you make up excuses, helping Beau with training, letting Jester braid your hair, keeping Fjord company while Molly claims their room for one of his escapades, getting some booze for Nott, or when Yasha is there, watch the storms with the woman, anything to get you out of that shared room with the wizard.

————

Rain hits the window of your room in the Pillow Trove as the redheaded wizard strolls in throwing his backpack on his bed and sitting down with a deep sigh. You look up over the edge of the book you’re reading seeing the wizard soaked through the bone wringing out his hair best he can. With a wave of your hand and words uttered under your breath you grin as the water evaporates from Caleb’s form, leaving his hair slightly more curly and frizzy, and his clothes warm and comfy. He gives you a look as you continue reading as if you’re completely unaware of anything going on in the room, completely absorbed into your book. Ignoring Caleb.

“I didn’t take you for the type that reads smutty romance novels.” He comments and gestures towards Courting of the Crick. You finally look at Caleb as if he only just gained your attention, as if you’re only just aware of his presence in the room. Both of you know better but this is how it is.

“You wouldn’t. But according to Jester you enjoy them very much.” You grin, having gotten to hear all about their little trip to the Chastity’s Nook. Caleb gives you a disapproving look as he begins to unpack his things, taking out the fresh ink and paper, setting out his spellbook and you mark your page, putting the book on your side table as you quickly get up and go for the door.

“Where are you off to all of the sudden?” Caleb asks as you grit your teeth. Can he not just leave you alone? Does he really trust you so little you’re not allowed to leave of your own accord?

“I’m going to see Jester and Beau in their room. Now I will bid you good day unless you think I need an escort for the room two doors down.” You snap. Okay, that may have been unnecessary. You could have at least been neutral. Too late for that now. Caleb waves his and as if dismissing you. Act like a child, get treated like a child. So you leave the room letting the door fall closed a little harder than you normally would in protest and make your way over towards Beau and Jester’s room.

Jester, happily lets you in and while Beau has definitely warmed up to you, things are still rocky. She wouldn’t go as far as calling you a friend, but more that one neighbourhood kid her parents tried to get her to play with despite the two of you never really having been friends at all. At least you can bond over your slightly criminal tendencies. It’s Jester who’s completely accepted you as one of her own, questioning you about anything and everything, preaching to you about the Traveler, gushing about her romance novels, specifically Oskar, which you’re pretty sure is actually reflecting her major crush on Fjord but let the girl dream. Who knows what will come of it?

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #caleb widogast x reader #caleb x reader #critical role #mighty nein

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amberlynnmurdock · 3 years ago

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Library Series (Pt. 16)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Chapter Summary: Finally, Thanksgiving is here.

A/N: WOW GUYS. It's been QUITE the journey since I've last updated this fanfic. I hope you all are staying safe and healthy in this madness. I've been so busy, I'm sorry it's been a while. Now that I've graduated college, I'll have plenty more time for writing and finishing this series (though there's a long way to the finish line). I still have so many hopes for this story, I can't wait to see it unfold. If you've been here from the start, THANK YOU. If you are just discovering this story, WELCOME!!! I hope you enjoy this fluffy chapter. But get ready... it's going to be a wild ride from here on out. :)P.S. Thank you for all the feedback! I recently kept getting emails about people leaving kudos and comments (more than usual) and I took it as a sign to sit my ass down and write this long awaited chapter. You guys inspired me, and I'm going to keep it up for you.

AO3 LINK

New Jersey was a place Matt hadn’t spent much time in, so he couldn’t form a picture in his mind of what it would be like. He was born and raised in New York; the city was exciting enough. His dad had taken Matt to the Jersey Shore beach a few times, before the accident. All Matt can recall are shelly sands and ice cold water.

With his heightened senses now, Matt almost shivers at the thought of the shore. But thank God you didn’t live near the beach. In fact, quite the opposite, Matt could tell.

The first sound he heard was the crunch of a leaf under his shoes. Matt could vaguely hear you tip the taxi driver and wish him a happy holiday. For once, his focus was on the new territory that was the country side of New Jersey. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he’s pleasantly surprised at the quietness of the town you lived in.

A cold breeze passes and Matt shivers. It’s the only thing he can hear. No distant yelling like New York City has, no cars honking or subway doors opening. All he could hear was the wind, the slick pavement of the road as the taxi drove off, and the sound of your sweet voice pulling him from his thoughts.

“Ready?” You ask. Your voice is optimistic, but cautious. This isn’t just new territory for Matthew–it’s new territory for yourself, too. You can’t remember the last time you brought a boy home to meet your parents.

“Lead the way, miss,” Matt replies playfully, sticking his elbow out for you to hold. You take it graciously and lead him down a cobblestone path.

Matt can smell buttered rolls and red wine. His mouth waters at the scent, but he quickly gains composure as you open your front door.

“Mom, Dad, I’m here with Matt!” You shout stepping in. Matt tries to hide his blush–of course, you’ve told them about him already.

“Welcome home, sweetie,” your dad comes walking down the hall that leads from the kitchen to the living room. He gives you a warm hug and kiss on the cheek. Matt stands patiently with his hands around his cane.

“This is Matthew,” you introduce Matt to your father. Matt holds out his hand and smiles.

“Pleasure to meet you, sir. You can call me Matt,” he says.

“We’re happy to have you join us, Matt. Usually it’s just the three of us. It’s nice to set a fourth dinner plate. We’ve heard a lot about you, so hopefully you live up to the standards we have in mind. My daughter speaks very highly of you,” your dad jokes. You glare at your father.

“Dad,” you say sheepishly. Matt smiles. He’s pleased you’ve talked about him, and he thinks your bashfulness is adorable. The overwhelming urge to pull you in for a kiss washes over Matt, but like your dad said, he’s got to be on his best behavior.

Matt laughs, “the pressure is on.”

In the kitchen, your mom is prepping the turkey. She pops up from behind the kitchen island and smiles as you and Matt walk in.

“Matt, it is so nice to meet you!” Your mom was notorious for jumping right into it, no matter the situation. She walks around the kitchen island to shake Matt’s hand. “It’s such a pleasure to have you join us.”

“Thank you for having me,” Matt says. Matt was so used to being surrounded by Foggy’s entire family on holidays, he wasn’t even phased with how outgoing your mom was. He likes your parents. It’s nice to have a small gathering. Hopefully there will be more, Matt thinks. And hopefully, it will bring you two even closer.

Matt doesn’t want to get ahead of himself.

Dinner was delicious, and conversation was fun, full and flowing. Matt never took so much time talking with Foggy’s family members because there were so many of them, but he liked the intimacy he shared with you and your family. It’s been a long time since he’s connected with someone other than Father Lantom.

Your mom gets up to clean the dishes and Matt offers to help.

“Matt, you don’t have to, really,” you say defensively and reach for his hand, feeling bad for some reason. Matt was the guest, he shouldn’t have to clean. Plus, and a part of you felt guilty for thinking this, but he was blind and… you just felt bad.

“I want to,” Matt simply says. He can hear the guilt in your voice, and the sound of your beating heart is loud in his ears. He appreciates your concern, but he doesn’t need it.

It’s just one of those things.

“Okay,” you reply, slowly letting his hand slip from your grasp.

While Matt helps your mom clean the dishes, you clear the table with your dad. Your dad tugs on your arm and leans in closely to tell you, “I really like him. Invite him for Christmas, too.”

“I want to take it easy, dad. But I’m glad you like him, too. I think mom approves as well,” you whisper back as you look over to see your mom laugh at something Matt said. The scene warms your heart.

After cleaning was done, your parents surprised you that they’d be going downtown tonight. You had an inkling that they were being nice and giving you alone time with Matt, since they’ve never went out after dinner on Thanksgiving before.

“So you’re going to what?” You ask as you and Matt follow them to the front door.

“Just the pub downtown, they’re opening only for the night so the neighbors invited us out as a town Thanksgiving celebration. You guys will be okay here? You can show Matt where he can stay,” Your mom explained as she and your dad put their coats on.

“Oh okay, well, have fun! Be safe. We’ll probably be asleep by the time you get back,” you say, starting to feel nervous that you and Matt would be together in your house alone. The thought was exciting at the same time.

When the door shut, the air in the room changed between you and Matt. It’s like you’ve been waiting all day, all weekend to be alone together, finally. You stand facing the door for a moment before you look at Matt.

“I’ll show you where you’ll be staying,” you say softly to Matt. He has a ghost of a smile on his lips and nods his head. He follows you upstairs with his bags.

You lead him to the guest room which is directly across from your room. You switch the light on and grab Matt’s bags, setting them down on the mattress. It’s a dimly lit room. The bed is a queen size with cotton sheets and a quilt.

“It’s cozy in here,” Matt says, smelling an unlit vanilla candle on the dresser. It reminds him of you. He can only imagine what your room looks like.

“It is. You know, we don’t have to say goodnight just yet. Let’s hang out in my room for a bit,” you say as innocently as possible. Matt nods his head.

“I’d love that,” he says in a soft voice.

The walk to your room felt like miles. The growing anticipation was too much to bear. Your heart was pounding. You had been with Matt alone so many times before but this time was different.

You’re taking him to your room, the room you grew up in and the room that has changed from time to time as you got older. It felt like you were entering a new phase with him and the thought was intimidating because you couldn’t exactly get a read on how he was feeling about all this.

Your room looked exactly like how you left it months ago before the start of the fall semester. Your bed was made and everything was put away–your records, clothes, books. You felt Matt behind you and turned to face him.

He immediately meets you with a kiss. He pulls you in around your waist and lets his cane drop to the floor, like he was dropping the facade he had around your parents. You could tell he was waiting all night to give you a long kiss like that. Suddenly, you thought you had an idea of how Matt felt about all this.

You pull back from his soft lips and smile, “thank you for coming tonight.”

“Thank you for having me,” Matt says in a deep voice, “I’m sorry. I’ve been wanting to kiss you all night.”

“You could have; my parents are cool like that,” you say with a smile.

“Not with the way I wanted to kiss you,” Matt quips.

“Oh,” is all you say with a smile. He was really sweeping you off your feet right now. And that’s exactly what he did.

Laughing, Matt gently places you on your bed and joins right next to you. You look at him and smile.

“You’re really making yourself at home, huh,” you joke with him.

“It’s easy with you, my dear,” Matt replies.

“I really hope you had a good time at dinner,” you say.

“I did,” Matt answers honestly. “I really like your family.” You notice he still has his red tinted glasses on. Without asking, you take them off. He doesn’t object.

He turns to look at you, his gaze falling shortly below your chin. For a moment, he takes in his surroundings. Across from your bed is your dresser and on top of that, a lavender scented candle that’s unlit. He can tell you have a lot of books from the smell of the pages.

Branches of a tree rub against the windows from the wind. Being this close to you is even more intoxicating than the red wine you both shared at dinner. Matt could get lost in your senses but being in your room with you on top of that is downright exhilarating.

It’s nice to be alone, with you, Matt thinks. Away from school, away from New York City, away from all the problems it comes with–he thinks being away with you is something he’d like to do more often. It’s safe being away. It’s easy to be with you, being away.

Laying down on your bed, in your room, with you was just the escape Matt needed from what felt like the weight of the world he’s been carrying lately. He wishes the weekend could turn into a week, a month, a year, forever.

For now, he’ll be grateful he gets to spend even a second in your presence.

“I’m sorry I got defensive before,” you say, the thought and scene still bothering you.

“It’s okay,” Matt replies. There’s honestly nothing you could do to make Matt upset, “I know I’m blind, but I’m still capable of doing things normally. People tend to forget. They wonder how I get to class, how I know which dorm is mine, how I–“

“–simply live life,” you finish his sentence.

“Exactly,” Matt sighs.

“Well, I didn’t want to be like one of those people,” you tell him, turning to face him on your side. “I know what you’re capable of.”

You have no idea. Matt felt bad that he was partially lying about the blind thing. Of course, he’s actually blind, but there's much more to what he’s actually capable of doing. He pushes the thought aside. He doesn’t want to be a mystery to you.

“You? Like other people?” Matt scoffs, “You are nothing like anyone I’ve ever met, sweetheart.”

You smile, swooning at him. ��Happy thanksgiving,” you say.

“Happy thanksgiving,” Matt replies. He leans in to kiss you on your forehead. “I’m grateful to have met you, ___.”

You kiss his lips and rest your head on his shoulder. You thought tonight would be full of chatter, but instead, you relish in each other’s company in silence.

That night, Matt doesn’t bother to move to the guest room. You close your door and join Matt in your bed for a restful sleep together. You fit snug against his strong and warm body. He wraps his fingers around yours and whispers something in your ear, but you've already fallen into a deep sleep before you could hear what he had to say.

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perditaalottachocolate-blog · 4 years ago

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When You Are Ready

Summary: Years after the events of the akuma Truth Luka gets a visit from an old friend he hadn’t seen in years. And they’re finally ready to tell him the truth. Inspired by S4E01 episode “Truth”.

***SPOILER WARNING***

The story below contains spoilers to the ML episode "Truth". If you haven't watched, read at your own risk.

This is for all the heartbroken Lukanette stans out there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘Great playin’ with you tonight, son,’ Jagged stuck his head inside Luka’s dressing room. For some reason his smile was wider than usual.

‘Thanks, J,’ Luka nodded. Even after they managed to mend the 16 year gap in their relationship, he couldn’t bring himself to call the rockman “dad”. ‘You too.’

Jagged’s head remained at the door.

‘You wanted something, old man?’ Luka asked. They’d been performing together for a few years already, but it wasn’t like Jagged to randomly pay him a visit after a concert.

Jagged gasped in mock offence. ‘I’m not that old, mind you. Still can kick your ass on the lead guitar, rookie,’ he waved a warning finger. ‘I’m heading out, just dropped to tell you there’s someone waiting for you at the back. I let her in because it’s raining cats and dogs outside.’

“Her”?

Plenty of fans loitered around after their concerts, but the security kept them in check. Who could make Jagged invite them inside despite their security policy?

‘Who is she?’

Jagged’s grin got positively sly. ‘An old friend, that’s all I’m sayin’. Just remember to show up to rehearsal tomorrow.’ He winked and shot the young man with a finger gun.

That was weird, even for Jagged. Luka quickly gathered his things, secured his guitar and left the dressing room. The corridor was dark and quiet, with most of the crew already gone, but Luka thought there was something strangely familiar in the air, like a memory of a forgotten song that suddenly slipped into his mind. He made a few tentative steps and turned the corner.

Indeed, there was a woman at the back door, leaning against the wall and fidgeting nervously. She turned a small package in her hands and tapped her foot, as if trying to gather courage. He recognized her song in an instant.

‘Marinette?’ Luka rasped, suddenly breathless.

She turned her infinitely blue eyes to him. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. When was the last time he saw her? At Juleka’s graduation? Maybe a few times after that?

Her life was already a whirlwind when he had met her, and little had changed in the following years. She was always so busy, always in a hurry. Her song became more frantic, burdened with fear and guilt. Luka couldn’t take it. And so days of silence turned into weeks, then months and years. Despite their best efforts they drifted apart and even her occasional commissions for Jagged never served as an opportunity to meet or catch up. He got on with his life, even if Marinette always held a special place in his heart.

‘Hi!’ She smiled hesitantly, brushing a stray curl of her hair behind her ear.

‘Oh my gosh, hi!’ Luka dropped his bag and hugged her tight. At first she went stiff in his arms, but it only took a moment for her to relax and reciprocate the embrace.

‘It’s so good to see you,’ he said, letting her go. ‘How are you?’

It really was good to see her, although his heart stuttered in her presence. He wanted to ask an entirely different question. Why was she here? Why did she come to see him after years of keeping quiet?

‘I’m okay, you know, just doing my thing,’ she shrugged. That obviously wasn’t how she wanted this conversation to go either.

‘So what brings you here? Still a fan of Jagged?’ He risked.

‘Yeah, yours as well, but- ‘ she paused and took a deep breath, ‘that’s not why I’m here. I’m- ugh, why is this so hard?’ she muttered under her breath.

Luka put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Easy, Marinette,’ he whispered, ‘remember you can tell me everything, always,’ he assured.

She closed her eyes. ‘This was a stupid idea. I just-’

He waited patiently, feeling her shiver under his touch. Her song became erratic, panicked even. This was so unlike Marinette, he started to worry.

‘You said- that evening by the Seine you said, “when you’re ready”,’ she spoke quietly.

He could barely hear her, but still her words made him come back to that heartbreaking moment by the bridge, when she ended things between them even before they really began. He never found out why, never understood, but also never questioned her decision.

‘It’s been 10 years,’ he said, more to himself and his memory.

‘Yeah…’

‘So many things happened in those 10 years,’ he mused.

‘Mhmmm…’ Marinette murmured. ‘Your solo album came out. You were on tour with Jagged. We graduated, went to university.’

‘Hawkmoth was defeated.’

‘Only recently,’ she reminded him. ‘But yeah.’

Silence fell over them. Luka still couldn’t make anything out of her presence and her reason to come.

‘You said: “when you’re ready, I’ll be here for you”,’ she repeated, louder now, more determined, as if she finally found her courage. ‘Are you?’

‘If you’re asking, if I have been in a relationship since we were teens, Marinette,’ he replied carefully picking his words, ‘then yes - I’ve been in a few, actually.’

But she must have known that, he’d always been honest, not only with her, but with everyone. He never hid. Not after his akumatizations. He’d learned from his parents’ and his own mistakes.

Marinette hunched. Before she turned her face away from him he glimpsed a tear in her eye. She bit her lip.

But none of them could ever compare to you, he wanted to say. The song of her heart has changed, matured, but it was no less fascinating. If anything, he found it even more captivating than when she’d been 14.

However, at least one thing about him hadn’t changed either.

‘I’m a simple, honest guy, Marinette,’ he said. ‘My heart doesn’t handle rejection well, neither dishonesty. Without the truth-’ he drifted off, letting her come to the conclusion on her own. He wasn’t that cruel to say it out loud.

‘I remember what you said and I remember what I’ve done, what I’ve been like,’ Marinette was calm now, but there was strange gravity in her tone. ‘I wouldn’t have come here, if - like you’d said - I wasn’t ready. Here,’ the box she’d been playing with appeared in front of his face. ‘Open it, when you’re alone. Then you’ll understand.’

‘Understand what?’

‘Me,’ she said quietly, turning to leave.

‘What about Adrien?’ Luka remembered that thorn as well.

Marinette halted with her hand on the doorknob. ‘That’s a long story.’

‘Believe me, I know,’ Luka chuckled humorlessly.

‘Adrien’s still a big part of my life, but we’re not a couple,’ Marinette said in a colorless voice.

‘Just friends?’ He couldn’t help himself.

‘Hah,’ she snorted. ‘Best friends. But just friends.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. Adrien has some stuff he needs to deal with and I- I finally know what I want and what I need,’ she turned and shot him a meaningful look. Then she left.

Luka stayed in the darkness for a while, mulling over the revelations of the past few minutes. Marinette had always cared for the truth, he knew that well. But there was a new sincerity to her today, laced with quiet determination, that shook him to his core. He wished he could comprehend that mystery.

Then his eyes fell on the little gift box and her words came back to him. “Open it. Then you’ll understand.”

Luka braced himself and slowly, carefully raised the lid.

Oh.

Inside, on blue silk lay a single guitar pick. It was red with a pattern of black dots.

Oh.

Finally the missing piece of the puzzle clicked into place. The part of the melody that’s been eluding him from the start, just out of his reach, but right under his nose. He smiled to himself as his fingers closed over the pick. And for the first time in years his heart skipped a beat.

#ml spoilers #truth #ml fanfic #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #for all lukanette stans out there #perdita writes #a pick me up fic #pro lukamari

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penaltbox · 4 years ago

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tell me what you want - jack ahcan/roman ahcan

i really hope you guy like this!! thank you to my anon for this amazing idea. if you like it let me know! i’m really interested to see what people favorite parts are. let me know what you think!

word count: ~11k

You swallow hard and look over your shoulder again, feet dangling above the water over Prior Lake. You grip the edge of the dock as you mumble just loud enough for your best friend to hear you, “he’s doing it again.”

Claire’s head whips around as she practically drops her sandwich into the water, food muffling her fiery response, “I’ll rip his dick off, I swear. Just give me the word.”

You laugh at her crude phrase but she knows you’d never give her the go ahead. She knew about the ups and downs though that your relationship had been through in the short time you two had been together. Roman had a hard time adjusting to the dating life whereas you went in full force. Opposite ends of the spectrum for very opposite people.

“We’re not beating anyone up today. Plus, I don’t think Brock would appreciate you seriously maiming someone on his property. Not the way to get a date with him, I’m guessing.”

Claire’s cheeks redden despite the slight sunburn they had and she knows she’s caught, “who said I wanted a date with Boeser? He’s gone half the year anyways.”

You smirk as you nudge her immediately, “you’re such a liar! You cry about how much you love him every time you get drunk and any time we’re here late at night you sit right by him. You two drunkenly flirt more than my boyfriend and I flirt period.”

“Yeah, well maybe if you’d dated the right Ahcan brother then we’d both be happily taken by now.”

Your jaw drops but your argument gets stuck in your throat. She gives you a look that dares you to tell her she’s wrong but you can’t. Jack was taken when you started dating Roman though so the opportunity wasn’t even there. Nowadays though… you let yourself look over at the aforementioned boy and watch as he laughs easily with Brock and a couple of their other friends.

Your own cheeks burn hot when he glances over and catches you staring, but he only offers a smirk in return. He looks for a second longer than he probably should, but eventually turns back to his own conversation. The little uptick in his smile let’s you know he’s aware you’re embarrassed and he loved every second of it.

“What the hell was that?” Claire asks, flicking your shoulder, “I was just kidding when I said it, but what the hell was that?”

“I… I have no clue. That’s never happened before,” you whisper, voice too stuck to say it any louder.

You turn around again and face the lake. You needed to brush it off. He was your boyfriend’s brother and that was a serious no fly zone. Even if he was more mature and nicer than the one you called your own.

—

“Why are you mad now?” You ask, rubbing your hand on your face.

You’re aware of how defensive your stance is but you really don’t care. You’re leaned back against the counters in Brock’s house, arms crossed over your chest, and staring down the boy standing across the island from you. You had no idea why he had an attitude and you really weren’t in the mood. He’d been difficult all day and you just wanted to relax.

“Why am I mad? You’re kidding, right? You don’t pay attention at all. I’m glad you live in such a daydream while I’m out here trying to be social and explain to people why my girlfriend doesn’t even hang out with me at my own brother’s house,” he explains, or so he thinks.

You scoff and look away from him, trying to keep your patience, “you’re mad because I didn’t follow you around like a puppy today? Is that seriously what this is about? And I’d be willing to bet no one asked you why I’m not hanging off you at every minute of the day.”

He jaw clenches as he realizes you’ve caught the embellishment in his story, “you hardly said a word to me.”

“The street goes both ways, Roman.”

He knows he has no upper hand and shakes his head, coming around island suddenly. You’re not sure what he’s going to do, but he moves toward you and opens the fridge to grab another drink. He looks like he’s about to say something as he closes the door but opts for a kiss to the side of your head before making his way to the backyard again. It was always a whirlwind with him.

You sigh, closing your eyes and letting your head drop forward. You were pretty sure dating wasn’t supposed to be this tiring, but you didn’t really have much reference either other than a high school boyfriend who broke up with you because you were “too much smarter than him”.

The sliding door opens again and you look up quickly, trying to pull yourself together. No one needed to know how often you and Ro fought. Jack happens to be stepping in and he gives you a soft smile, taking in your demeanor immediately.

“You okay? You look a little upset.”

He realized it far sooner than his brother ever could and something about that makes your heart stutter for a second. You shrug though, trying to play things off.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Maybe a little too much sun today but I’ll be alright,” you smile, watching as he makes his way to the fridge like his brother had just done.

“Did you need another drink? Water, white claw?” He pops his head back out, noticing you didn’t have anything in hand. Of course he was nice enough to offer and think of someone other than just himself.

“I’d love a white claw,” you nod, pushing off the counter and dropping the black cloud Roman had left over your head. Lake days were short enough and you weren’t spending any more of this one moping around because of what he’d said.

Jack hands you a drink, grabbing his own and squeezing by you. Except there was plenty of room and he easily could have gone around the island the way he’d come from. He lets his hand brush your hip with a whispered “excuse me” as he retraces his steps towards the door. He slides it back open but looks over at you again.

“I’m guessing my brother’s the reason you’re all holed up in here. I know he’s an ass, but try and shake it off. We all know you’re a good girl who tries hard in that relationship. Now, you coming along? We just got the fire going.”

You shiver a little at the phrase he calls you but you pray he didn’t notice it. You do note that he always seemed to have endless patience and you wonder if he took it all when he was born and left none for his younger brother.

You smile as you sneak by him but he politely keeps his hands to himself this time. You find yourself wishing he wouldn’t though and mentally scold yourself. The bonfire is double what it had been and you stop two steps out onto the deck.

Jack’s hand finds the small of your back as he leans down near your ear, “come on, if he’s a dick then you can just hang out with me.”

You look at him skeptically, not sure why he wanted to hang out with you so much suddenly, so the bold part of you questions it, “are you sure? I don’t want you to have to worry about me all night.”

He smiles and holds up his pinky, “yes, I’ll even pinky promise. Just shoot me a look and you’re all mine for the rest of the night.”

“Okay, I can do that. Thanks, Jack,” you smile back at him finally and head towards the bonfire, spotting your boyfriend.

He has a slightly sour look on his face as he stares at the fire from where he’s standing. His words from earlier bounce in your head so you make your way over, wrapping your arm around his waist and taking the spot next to him.

“Sorry for blowing up in there,” he mumbles, wrapping an arm tight around your shoulders.

You lean your head against him and stare at the fire, knowing it wouldn’t be the last time, “it’s okay.”

But was it? You find yourself thinking it over, tossing the words he'd said and the past fights he’d picked around until it all jumbled together. He shifts after a couple minutes and you’re brought back to reality, only to find yourself locking eyes across the flames with Jack.

He raises his eyebrows, a question for you, but you give him a soft smile in return. You were good… for now. It doesn’t stop him from constantly glancing over and checking in the rest of the night though. You were glad someone was at least.

—

You luckily never needed that pinky promise rescue from Jack and Roman seemed to mellow out after that for a couple weeks.

It was deep in the heart of summer now and the days were as long as you could possibly stretch them. Your tan was darker, your hair lighter, and you didn’t want anything dragging you down. Going to the bar for the night seemed like a great idea so you’d agreed easily.

Getting ready was easy. Meeting Roman at his house and talking with his mom for so long that you were almost late getting to Brock and Jack’s place to all leave at the same time was easy. It all seemed like the night would go by easily and you’d have plenty of fun.

You just didn’t expect to have such an easy and fun night with the person you ended up with.

You’re glad you didn’t have to drive and you take a deep breath before the group of you enter the bar. Roman had seemed to shift into party mode in the car and you know that means he’ll be out all night. You see an opportunity right before you though.

“Jack!” You call him, watching as he turns around with a smile.

“Yes?”

You try to bite back your smile as you hold your hand out in front of you, pinky first. He laughs and wraps his finger around yours, turning and pulling you along the sidewalk behind him. You giggle a little and fall into step next to him, letting go first.

“Yeah, I got you. Just give me the look,” he reminds you, reaching forward and holding the door open, “ladies first.”

“Thank you,” you say, blushing a bit for reasons you’re completely unaware of as you duck into the bar.

It’s not a bad night by any means. Everyone is in a good mood and getting along, but you manage to get tired quickly. Your stomach rumbling is the final straw and you turn to your boyfriend, lacing your fingers in his to get his attention.

“Yeah, baby?” He asks, leaning closer so he can hear whatever you’re about to say.

“I’m hungry. Can we leave?” You pout a little, hoping it’ll win him over easily.

He groans, giving you a glimpse at the attitude he’d dropped the last couple weeks, “I really wasn’t ready yet. We haven’t been here that long.”

“They don’t have food though…”

“So why didn’t you eat before we left then? You knew we were going out tonight,” he says, looking at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You’re about to plead your case again when you look across the group and catch Jack’s attention. The lightbulb seems to go off then and your eyes go wide. You nod slightly towards his brother and he moves quickly, heading your way.

“Never mind, I’ll make Jack take me.”

Roman laughs but it’s cut short when his brother steps in front of him, giving a quick punch to his shoulder.

“You two behaving over here?” Jack asks, having no clue what you’d just said to Roman.

“I’m hungry,” you blurt out, “and someone isn’t ready to leave.”

“I can take you. I’m not really feeling it tonight anyways,” Jack shrugs, looking to his younger brother for permission.

Roman’s eyebrows furrow a bit but sending you with someone he trusted probably wasn’t the worst idea, “yeah whatever. We’re staying at your place tonight anyways so we’ll end up in the same spot.”

“Have fun, okay?” You turn Roman towards you, leaning up to kiss him quickly.

Jack looks away as you do, not wanting to see it for some reason that night. He finishes the last sip of his water you had no clue he had and sets the cup on the high top table next to him. Roman hands you off to his brother but not before giving you a quick slap on the ass.

“Not in public,” Jack corrects him, pushing Roman square in the chest gently.

The younger boy lets out a laugh and swats his brother’s hand away, “she doesn’t mind it.”

You bite your tongue over how wrong he is and push Jack’s arm until he starts moving towards the door, looking back at Roman as you do, “I’ll see you later. Try and behave please.”

He throws a wink your way and let’s you go without even thinking twice. You’re glad you thought to make that deal with Jack before walking in and you’re equally thankful that he could tell you needed help when you did.

“Where to? What are you hungry for?” He asks, grabbing his keys from his pocket, but opening your door for you.

You’re happily surprised by his action but you slip into the front seat regardless. He makes his way around and takes the driver's seat, giving you an expectant look.

“I have no clue, Jack. Just pick somewhere,” you giggle, buckling up and settling into the seat.

“Taco Bell it is,” he smiles as he puts the car into drive.

You gasp a little, excited that he picked there of all places. You take advantage of being the front passenger and lean forward, turning the radio on to a low volume. The music floats through the space and makes you feel more calm than you have been in a while.

You glance over at Jack, “can we all go skating this summer? I know it’s a weird time to go but I haven’t skated with you guys since we were kids.”

Jack smiles over at you, his heart thumping from the innocent question, “yeah of course we can. Brock has some extra ice time at one of the rinks by my parent’s place.”

You sit back, happy and a little buzzed, feeling on top of the world. Jack drives smoothly and you try not to watch his arm flex as he turns the wheel with one hand.

The night is almost too easy after you leave the bar. Jack doesn’t force conversation and you’re surprisingly happy to just hang out with him whether you’re talking or not. He refuses to let you pay for your food and when he parks the car, the two of you end up talking for hours after.

You both end up having to sneak back into Brock’s house, but luckily for you Roman never wakes up when you slip into bed that night.

—

You kick yourself the next morning, wondering why you were wide awake at 8am. You’d only gotten five hours of sleep, if you were lucky, but somehow your body decided that was enough. You sigh and slip out from under the covers, tossing your hair in a bun before heading for the kitchen. You were well versed in where Brock kept the coffee.

You quietly make your way to the kitchen but you’re greeted with the smell of freshly brewed coffee and your boyfriend's brother in nothing but shorts and a sleepy smile. You suck in a breath and offer a smile back, heading right for the coffee pot he was standing near.

“Good morning,” Jack mumbles, his voice sounding as sleepy as he looked. He runs a hand through his hair quickly but it does him no good.

You laugh quietly, pulling a mug out of the cupboard and filling it up, “morning, sleepy head. You sure you’re ready to be up?”

He lets out a little giggle that makes you turn and look at him. It was so unguarded and cute that you don’t even stop yourself from trying to block it out of your memory. You want to remember that one.

“I’m not sure why I’m up so early but if I am then coffee and dock fishing it is.”

You nod, not the least bit surprised at his plans, but you can appreciate the simplicity of them in the early morning hours. The fridge holds the coffee creamer you loved and you wonder if Brock even realized it when he bought it now or if it was just habit. Regardless you put some in your cup, knowing Jack was watching your every move.

“Jack,” you say suddenly, a little smirk dancing across your lips as he looks at you with raised eyebrows, “I’ve been meaning to ask you this. I heard Roman used to always beat you in skating races. Is that true?”

He’s just about to take a sip from his mug when you ask but he hesitates, shooting you a wicked grin, “he’s a liar. He didn’t always beat me.”

“Oh, not always?” You tease, not sure where the tone even comes from, but you like it.

He matches the energy easily though, quipping back, “I’m older though so I’m better… at everything.”

Your brain blanks for a second but the way he looks at you pulls a thousand thoughts forward at once. You blush instantly, turning your attention to your coffee mug that suddenly had the most interesting design on it.

“Can dish it but can’t take it, huh? I see how it goes,” he nods, finishing his drink before you’d even taken a sip of yours. His comment strikes the competitive side in you quickly.

“Oh I can take it,” you say, blushing all over again as you hear the phrase come tumbling out of your mouth, “Uhm, I mean… just stop giving me that look! You know what I meant!”

He shrugs, trying to bite back the smile that was on his face, “hey, you started this. I just came through to finish it.”

Your jaw drops a little, ready to argue, but you’re not in time. He rinses his mug and sets it to the side. He keeps his eye on you as he heads for the back door, giving you one last big smirk before leaving you alone to watch him through the window as he heads for the dock.

You realize it sounds like a stupid scene out of a movie. You’re standing there, sipping coffee, watching a cute boy through the window, and having thoughts that you probably shouldn’t about him. A creak on the stairs brings you back to earth as your boyfriend’s arms wrap around you.

“Hi, beautiful. How’s your morning?”

—

You couldn’t lie and say you’d been on your game since that morning in the kitchen with Jack. He’d shook you up somehow after that but what was worse is that he seemed to be keeping to himself any time you were around. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d done something wrong but Roman was making up for it at least.

A knock on your apartment door gets your attention a week after the “kitchen talk” as you’d dubbed it to your friends. Claire had all but lost her mind over the story and you had to reel her back in, begging her not to say a word to Brock.

Opening the door gives you a happy surprise when you find Roman on the other side with flowers and a coffee. You can’t help but smile at him and lean in to kiss him quickly.

“What’s all this for?” You ask, taking both things and heading for your kitchen.

He follows along, looking incredibly proud of himself, “you just have seemed off so I was hoping it might boost your mood a little.”

It’s a sweet gesture and you’re thankful that he still notices how you’re feeling even though the two of you had some bumps along the way lately. You set everything down without even bothering to grab a vase, opting to turn around and give him a big hug, wrapping your arms right around his neck.

He squeezes back, rubbing a hand up and down your back. You let out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding and lay your head on his shoulder.

“I did need this. Thank you,” you say quietly as he sways the two of you back and forth.

He kisses your shoulder and keeps you close, “how was food with my brother the other night? I thought I heard you two in the kitchen the next morning.”

You’re glad you aren’t looking at him because your eyes go wide at what he must have heard, “oh, it was good. We got Taco Bell so I was pretty happy after that. He was up in the morning though, yeah.”

“I’m glad you two get along. I know he’s still figuring out how to be single again so sorry if he’s been bugging you lately. I don’t blame him for wanting to hang with you.”

You press your forehead against his shoulder, rethinking a lot of the time you’d spent with Jack lately. He was just trying to replace the whole his ex left. He had no real interest in you and you needed to remember that.

“He’s a cool guy. I don’t mind having him around,” you pull back, giving Roman a smile to let him know things were all good.

“Why don’t we just hang out here today? My plans are clear for you today,” he suggests, leaning down to kiss you.

You agree, knowing it was probably best to spend some time with your own boyfriend rather than his brother for once.

“Oh, we’re going ice skating tomorrow night by the way. Jack said you suggested it or something.”

You freeze, realizing that you had indeed asked. You just hadn’t expected him to remember or deliver on that promise. And just like that, you know you’ll have to play it cool again around him.

—

You had less than 24 hours to mentally prepare yourself to skate with the guys. You knew you couldn’t ignore Jack, and you really had no reason to, but you were nervous about seeing him again for some reason. You had been so distracted in fact that while you were cutting up chicken for your lunch earlier in the day you’d cut your finger bad enough to need a pretty decent sized bandaid right on your pointer finger.

You realize what a pain in the ass that is as you’re sitting on the bench at the rink, trying to lace up your skates and struggling with it. Roman had slipped his skates on quickly and you usually had no problem doing the same. Your finger hurt though and the bandaid kept getting caught up with the laces, causing your patience to start wearing thin. You’re ready to give up on it all when a familiar body sits next to you and pats your knee.

“Put it on my leg,” he says, seeing the struggle you were going through.

You look over at him and duck your head out of embarrassment, “I can tie my own skates. I’m just having some trouble.”

Jack laughs a little, grabbing your pant leg and pulling your leg over his thigh, “I know you can tie your own skates but it’s okay to ask for help every now and then too.”

You can’t even argue with that, opting to watch his hands quickly work your laces into place. You bite your lip, trying to pull your mind out of the gutter, but it doesn’t work very well. He finishes one skate and has the second one done sooner than you’d have liked it.

“You ready to get out there? I haven’t seen you skate in years,” he smiles as he stands, grabbing his gloves and stick from the bench.

“I’ve still got it,” you smile, picking up your own equipment and following him out onto the clean ice.

Not two strides out there and Roman stops hard in front of you, hitting you with enough of a snow shower to coat part of your pants. You look up, ready to smack him, but his brother beats you to it.

“Are you five years old again?” Jack reprimands, “give the girl a second to get her feet beneath her before you start acting like a jerk.”

You can’t help but laugh, covering your mouth and looking away. You’d never heard Jack talk to him like that and even Roman has a shocked look on his face.

“Don't agree with him!” Roman pouts at you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and giving you a fake headlock.

You giggle, pushing him off and jokingly hiding behind Jack, “no way! At this rate you’re going to end up checking me into the end boards.”

Roman shakes his head as Jack lets out the same laugh you’d heard in the kitchen that may or may not be on a small loop in your head some days. You peak around Jack, knowing Roman wouldn’t do anything. You’re met with his smirk and his next words make your heart skip a little.

“Yeah, yeah, I know you like Jack better than me so you’re just using him as your defense. Don’t be mad if I score on you guys later though,” he shrugs and turns to skate off.

Jack turns to look at you and you just know your face tells the little scare you’d just had. He gives you a matching look and shakes his head a little.

“He’s just kidding. We’re good,” he tries to reassure you but it does the complete opposite.

He skates off then and you’re left standing at the blue line wondering what the hell he meant when he said you two were good. Good about what? You two hadn’t done anything wrong technically. You take a deep breath and start to skate, knowing you had to play it off. Things were fine.

—

“My team sucked, it’s not my fault!” Roman complains as he tosses his stuff in the trunk of Brock’s car.

You put your own stuff in after, reaching for his hand when yours are free, “it’s okay, Ro, we can’t all be winners.”

He turns and meets your grin with a tiny one of his own, “oh you’re all full of trouble today aren’t you?”

You nod and lean up to kiss him quickly. The little skate had turned into a competitive pick up game that had you all exhausted afterwards. Brock invited everyone over after and you jumped on the opportunity.

“You love it when I’m like this,” you mumble, leaning against him.

“Hey, don’t be gross in the parking lot,” Brock calls, “get in the car, kids.”

You blush at getting caught and climb in the backseat quickly. Jack turns around from the front seat and gives you a look you can’t quite place, but it makes you squirm a little. Roman is quick to put a hand over on your thigh once he gets in and you lace your fingers with his to try and ground yourself again.

The ride back feels like a blur but you suddenly remember what you’d packed in your bag. You tap the back of Roman’s hand and wait for him to turn his attention to you.

“Can we do a face mask when we get back?” You ask, knowing he probably won’t but it was worth a shot.

He makes a face, “do I have to? They feel weird.”

You’d maybe scarred him last time when you’d used a not so great charcoal mask and it had stuck to the end of his eyebrow pretty bad. You get his hesitation on it.

“It’s a different kind this time! It won’t hurt.”

He curls his lip up a little, still not believing you. You’re about to plead your case one more time when Jack turns around.

“I’ll do it.”

“Oh thank god,” Roman sighs, giving you a bashful smile.

“Deal. I just don’t want to do it alone,” you smile at him, thinking it would be just fine.

And it is. Until Brock suggests a late night fishing venture and Roman jumps all over it. Jack is two seconds from agreeing when you stop in your tracks halfway up the front steps, realizing they’d be leaving you instead of joining your impromptu spa night.

“You guys are fishing?” You ask quietly.

They all turn towards you and the three of them deflate when they see how sad you look. Immediately they all start talking at once, apologizing, suggesting that you do it a different night, and more that you can’t even make out as they all try and talk at once.

“I’ll stay,” Jack says, his phrase breaking through the most. Brock and Roman stop and look over at him.

“Are you sure, dude? We can just hang back tomorrow night and do that,” Roman reasons with him, knowing he loved fishing more than anything.

Jack nods, seeming sure of his decision, “yeah that’s okay. I said I would so I’ll stay back and do it.”

You can’t help but smile at the fact he’s willing to keep up his end of the deal. Brock turns and keeps heading into the house, still keeping his plan of fishing. Jack follows as well, but Roman holds back. He comes back down two steps until he’s even with you.

“You sure you want to stay here with Jack and do that? I can do it tomorrow if you want to wait,” he offers, his hand grabbing your waist. His expression is soft, letting you know he actually would if you wanted to the next day but you’re just in the mood for it.

“I’d rather do it tonight, if you don’t mind. Especially after getting all sweaty from skating,” you shrug a little, hoping he’s okay with it.

He nods and kisses your forehead, “if it makes you happy then go for it. If he complains that he didn’t get to fish enough once summer is over though we’re blaming you.”

You laugh, knowing Jack would end up saying that even if he went every single day. You’d accept that blame for one night of staying in and decompressing.

With that, Roman heads into the house, making his way to Brock’s side as a small cooler gets packed for the two of them. You toss a couple waters in when they’re not paying attention, knowing they’ll want them eventually.

A quick kiss and a ‘be careful’ leaves you alone with Jack one more time. The kitchen was quickly becoming the spot you two had the most alone time and something about that feels too homey.

“You ready for this?” You ask, turning and looking at him.

He smiles and nods, “ready as I’ll ever be. I haven’t done one before.”

“Oh even better then! Come on.”

You make your way up the stairs, Jack following closely behind you and grabbing your bathroom bag from the spare room. Like a puppy, he follows you through the rooms and halls, leaning against the door frame when you finally put your stuff on the bathroom counter. He watches carefully as you pull out the masks, eyeing it up.

“Do you want to watch me do it first?” You meet his eyes through the mirror, suddenly very aware at how closely he was watching your every move.

He nods, taking a couple steps closer and looking over your shoulder as you open the container up. He frowns when he sees the color of it, making you laugh right away.

“Don’t make that face already. You haven’t even felt it,” you gently elbow his side and he moves out of the way, standing behind you instead.

You look up and catch his smile in the mirror. He looks too cute as he stands closer than you thought and you feel yourself blush suddenly. You pull some of the face mask from the jar and apply it evenly on your own face. You finish it in no time and Jack makes an unsure noise behind you.

“What if I mess it up?” He asks, his face pinched with confusion, “you were so fast with it.”

You laugh and turn around towards him, “it’s not hard. You just have to get it even.”

“I don’t think I can do it.”

“Do you want me to do it for you?”

He nods quickly and you shake your head. Maybe he and his brother weren’t so different. You motion towards the toilet, knowing it would be easier to apply if he sat.

“Okay, no fidgeting,” you tell him quietly, pulling the jar over with you and putting some on your fingers.

He gives you a nervous look as you step between his legs to put it on him. He blinks hard and starts leaning back immediately, making you start to laugh. You move quickly, putting some across his cheek, but it doesn’t go as planned. He jerks back, yelling about it being cold, and you reach for him immediately.

“Why is it cold?” He bellows, only stopping after you’d smeared some of the mask in his hair.

“Jack, don’t! Just sit still! Now you got it in your hair.”

“Get it out! No wonder Roman didn’t want to do this,” he whines.

You put your clean hand on the back of his neck and pull him back closer, “just trust me okay. It won’t hurt you.”

He takes a deep breath and looks up at you, leaning forward. You leave your hand on the back of his neck just in case he decides to flinch again. He seems to relax after a second as he lets his eyes close. He seems to subconsciously lean back into your hand, but not to pull away. You realize you’re standing much closer than you’d expected to and you’re suddenly grateful that you’re in an empty house together.

“You’re all set,” you whisper, “well except the stuff in your hair.”

“Will you get it out?” He mumbles, eyes fluttering open as he looks up at you.

Your breath catches in your throat, a nod the only answer you can give him. You step away to grab a washcloth and find yourself looking back at him right away. His eyes follow your moves again, but the silence is comfortable. You wet the cloth, making sure the water was warm, and step back over to him.

“Why does it feel tight?” He asks, frowning a little.

“Don't frown. You’ll make it crack,” you put a finger under his chin and tip his face up towards you.

You start to wipe the spot near his temple that had gotten the mask on it and it cleans off easily. You almost step away from him but you hesitate for some reason and turn your attention to him then. He’s staring back and it makes your stomach flip a couple times.

“Jack…” you whisper, the air starting to feel heavy. You couldn’t do this. You knew your feelings were fading fast for his brother but you couldn’t just jump over the way you wished you could.

“I know.”

It’s the only explanation he offers but it sets your mood at ease. He gives you a tiny smile and pushes you back a step, hands on your hips, and stands up.

“Now how long does this stay on? It feels like cement,” he jokes, turning to face the mirror. He leans in and starts poking at his face, earning a smack on the shoulder from you.

“Don’t pick at it.”

He turns and looks at the shoulder you’d just hit and then at you, “my goodness, you’re bossy today.”

He smiles immediately, ruining the mask and reaching up to scratch his cheek right away. You roll your eyes playfully, handing him the rag you’d already wet.

“You can take it off, you big cry baby,” you tease, watching him start to clean his face.

He gets it mostly cleaned and starts to rinse his hands off but he suddenly smirks at you as he catches your eye in the mirror. You frown for a second, confused about his sudden demeanor change. He turns suddenly and throws half a handful of water at you, splashing you right on the front of your shirt.

You let out a surprised shriek, jumping from the shock. He starts to laugh hard and you realize he’s distracted enough for you to step in and throw water at him. It hits him and he realizes what you’ve done, reaching to do the same again but you grab his wrist and try to pull him back.

“Don’t you dare!” You laugh, trying to push him away from the water.

He’s bigger and stronger though so he uses his other hand to reach around you on the opposite side, this time only flinging a little up towards your face. You squeal and try to duck away but quickly realize he’s got you backed against his chest and you’re stuck. You’re both laughing so hard you can barely stand and when you look at him in the mirror you realize what the two of you were doing.

You slowly loosen your grip around his wrist and clear your throat, “truce, okay? I need to clean my face off.”

He sees your mood shift and steps back with a nod, “I’m, uh, I’ll be downstairs if you want to hang out. It’s getting kind of late though so I might head to bed soon.”

“Okay,” you say quietly, letting his wrist go when he steps back.

You watch him hang his head as he leaves the bathroom and you grip the counter. You were being irresponsible around him and you couldn’t risk getting caught by Roman. You have to check yourself before you got yourself in trouble.

You clean up in the bathroom, wiping the counter off from all the water you’d flung around and heading back to the room you’d share with Roman that night. You’re up all the way until he comes back, smiling when he crawls in next to you. He immediately curls up around you and you have to swallow hard.

He wasn’t always a bad boyfriend and you’d been friends for a long time before you dated. You may not see eye to eye every day but you didn’t want to hurt him ever. Especially not when it was his brother who was involved.

—

“Are you sure you want to go over to their place tonight?” You tease Roman as he lays on you, head resting on your stomach as you play with his hair.

You hadn’t been back to Jack and Brock’s in two weeks and summer was quickly drawing to a close. You only had about a month left and it felt like you’d blinked and time disappeared. You wanted to go, but you were hesitant too. Especially after last time you’d been there.

“Yes, my brother gave me shit for being holed up with you for the last couple weeks. He said I need to share,” he laughs, likely not thinking twice about the comment Jack had made.

You nod to yourself, glad he wasn’t looking at you, “I’m okay with going if you want.”

He leans up then and gives you the same trouble maker smirk that made you fall for him in the first place, “you just want to see Brock’s dogs, huh?”

You laugh,your heart having skipped for a second at who he was going to say, “of course I do. They’re the cutest boys I know.”

He shakes his head and you hope he can’t tell how quickly you’d almost panicked over the possibility of him bringing his brother up again. He leans up and kisses you, surprising you with how gentle it was. He usually wasn’t much for romantics in the middle of the day but apparently this was an exception.

“Let me grab a different shirt and we can go,” he kisses your cheek quickly and pushes himself off the bed.

You’re almost mad at yourself for how quickly your brain gets scrambled at the thought of Jack. You get up and head to the bathroom to fix your hair while simultaneously hyping yourself up for the night ahead.

You find yourself 3 drinks deep some odd hours later when a chill runs through your body. You shiver immediately, despite being in front of a bonfire, and the cold seeps in through the long sleeve shirt you’d worn. You didn’t think it was supposed to get cold but apparently the weather had other ideas. Go figure in Minnesota.

“Ro?” You ask, gently grabbing his forearm to interrupt his conversation with Jack.

“Hmm?”

“I’m cold and I forgot a coat,” you frown, crossing your arms and rubbing them for emphasis.

He shrugs slowly, nodding his head towards the fire, “I don’t know what to tell you. Stand closer I guess.”

“You ass,” Jack smacks his shoulder, “You better be nicer or I’ll tell mom. Come on, we can go get you one.”

Roman scoffs, “you better not! It’s not even that cold out.”

You hesitantly start to follow Jack as he makes his way towards the house, shaking his head as he goes. He was obviously annoyed with Roman, that much you could tell. You weren’t sure if it was your best idea to go in alone with him after last time but you figured this was a tight timeline kind of situation.

Jack is surprisingly quiet the entire way up to his room, but he opens the closet and steps in, motioning at the hangers, “whatever one you like. Most of them are from St. Cloud though.”

You smile and start to look through the row of sweatshirts, well aware his eyes were on you. You can feel the blush that starts to dust your cheeks and you can’t help but glance over at him. He smiles as soon as you do and finally looks away.

“Do you have a preference on it? I don’t want to take one you really love.”

“No preference. I know how to get it back if I need to,” he smirks, making you take a deep breath and turn back to the fabric that was still in your hand.

You tug the sleeve farther to get a view and realize it’s one from Providence this year. Something about it with his number on the chest stands out and you pull it out.

“This is okay?”

“I think it’ll look great on you.”

You slip the black sweatshirt over your head and you’re immediately washed over with warmth. You dig your hands into the front pouch and smile at Jack, knowing it was probably two sizes too big on you. He can’t help but smile softly at you in his clothes. He had to look away to remember you still very much weren’t his.

“Don't let Roman give you shit for it either. I’m still telling our mom what he said to you,” he elbows your gently as he walks by. He knows not to spend too much time there with you. He knew better but he was only human.

You snort, “she’s gonna rip him a new one. She always does when he’s mean to me.”

“We all like you a lot,” he looks back at you, his words saying more than he initially spoke, but you hear it loud and clear.

You nod, reaching forward silently right before he hits the top of the stairs. He glances down and sees, extending his hand and grabbing yours. He squeezes tight and makes his way down to the first floor. As he hits the last stairs he lets your hand go and you ball your hand into a fist instantly. It was over sooner than you wanted it to be.

He opens the door for you as always and follows an extra half step behind you. You find Roman quickly and he looks guilty for a moment before he sees what you’re wearing.

“I’m sorry about before. I’m definitely going to start bringing a sweatshirt though wherever we go. You don’t look good in his number,” he scowls, but reaches for your hand.

You take his but quickly find yourself comparing it to the boy who’d just held it inside. You kick yourself and tuck in closer to Roman’s side. You couldn’t keep playing these games. You had to make your mind up soon.

—

The bonfire was fun, both you and Roman ending up in a game of beer pong later that had you drinking more than you’d planned, so bed was a welcome sight the night before. You’d pulled your clothes off and stole the shirt he kept tucked in a drawer in the spare room you always stayed in, not thinking about it at all.

You wake up far too early, as always, the next morning and immediately crave a cup of coffee. You were already thinking about taking the dogs down to the dock with you to enjoy it and you happily head downstairs, not even considering the fact you had no pants on.

The sight you find in the kitchen makes you freeze, almost running right back up the stairs, but he looks up at you just in time. His eyes widen a little but respectfully looks up at you. You can’t even force a word from your mouth before he’s sliding a cup of coffee onto the island.

“I made coffee. Here,” he smiles softly, watching as you make your way closer to him.

You peak over the rim of the mug and see the color of it. A little creamer just the way you liked it. You give him a soft smile immediately. No one but your mom ever knew how you liked your coffee. Sure, Roman knew your Starbucks order, but the way you took it at home in the quiet morning hours meant way more to you than one store bought version ever would.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it,” you pick up the warm mug and take a sip. It was perfect, possibly even better than when you did it, and you let out a sigh right after.

Jack can’t help but watch. You look so content and happy, even with your hair a mess and a smudge of mascara under your eye from the night before. He wasn’t sure when he became so interested in you’d but it had hit him like a tidal wave the night before. Apparently seeing you in his clothes really got him thinking. He squints a little at the shirt you’re wearing and smirks when he realizes what one it is.

You hardly notice, too lost in how good your coffee is, so you hop up onto the counter next to where he’s standing and squeeze his face gently, his smirk turning to pursed lips with the tiniest smile on them.

“This coffee is amazing. Thank you,” you smile at him, finally a little taller than him for once.

“You already said that,” he laughs, pulling back from your hand and stepping in front of you.

You don’t know why you do it but you let him step between your legs, making room for him to get closer. He sets his own mug on the counter before taking yours from you and placing it next to his. You’re silently thankful because the last thing you needed was to drop hot coffee on the two of you.

His hands come to rest on each side of your thighs, his right hand rotating in until his fingers are gently dancing up and down your bare skin. Goosebumps break out immediately and you bite your lip to stay quiet.

“You know whose shirt that is right?” He asks, his voice so low you can barely hear him even with how close you two are.

His hand stops as his thumb rubs deeper circles into your skin and you have to grab his shoulders for support. The air is so charged you feel like you could snap with one wrong movement.

“It’s Roman’s,” you whisper, wondering why he was asking.

He shakes his head just the slightest bit, “no, we both played for Cedar Rapids. That’s mine.”

You frown, not believing him. How would he know it’s his when there was no way to tell? He can tell you’re unsure so he makes the move on his own accord. His slips his hand from the spot it had been massaging on your thigh up your side and under your shirt.

“Jack,” you gasp, hands quickly moving to squeeze his biceps.

He lets out a low chuckle and grabs the tag inside the shirt. He flips the shirt up, exposing half your side and tugs the tag out to see. There, in black sharpie ink, is a little J. You stare at it hard, suddenly feeling like you’d done something very wrong. Technically you had been for the past month or so when you started letting him in your thoughts so much but now it was heavier, more real.

“We can’t…” you mumble, looking at him again.

His hand lets go of the tag and settles back on your bare side under the shirt, “I know, but answer this truthfully. Do you really like him? Does he treat you the way you want to be treated?”

“We’ve grown up together. I know him so well. I know your family so well. He and I were just easy to start.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. Do you really like him? Because I know you’ve only been together three months but has it been worth it?”

The way he’s looking at you makes you feel oddly calm. You know no matter what you tell him he’ll respect your decision. He won’t ever push farther than you’re comfortable. You take a deep breath and answer him the right way.

“I think I liked the excitement of having him at first, but I don’t think he and I are right for each other,” you admit, pulling your hands from him and tangling them on your lap.

Jack nods, pulling his hands back and gripping the counter, “it’s up to you then what happens next. I’ll never be mad at you either way so don’t worry about me. Do what you have to.”

“Thank you,” you say for the thousandth time that morning, but you really did mean it.

He leans forward and kisses your forehead, all the air seemingly leaving your lungs at once. It’s so gentle you barely feel it but it burns your skin at the same time. A good burn, you decide. You cup his cheek when he pulls back, running your thumb gently across his skin.

“Are you hanging out here today? I think we’re having another bonfire,” he leans into your hand, the soft smile on his face seemingly permanent.

You shake your head, “your brother comes first tonight. He wanted a movie night.”

The words seem to shock Jack for some reason and he stands up fully, taking a step back, “I gotcha. Hopefully you come back around soon then.”

You slide off the counter, shorter than him all over again, and reach for your coffee mug, “I’m going to refill this and take Coolie down to the dock with me.”

You glance towards the living room and see the pup lift his head from the plush bed he was laying on. Jack looks over too and laughs a little.

“We know who the favorites are here, huh?” He calls the dog who quickly scurries over.

You refill your cup while he pets Coolie, smiling when you glance over at them. You’re struck with an odd sense of comfort from it and you give yourself an extra moment to watch. You don’t hesitate too long though, tossing a goodbye over your shoulder and leaving Jack in the one place that always led to trouble between you two.

Jack hardly has a moment to breathe before Roman comes pounding down the stairs, a grin on his face. He didn’t hear a thing luckily, Jack can tell that much. Roman looks out the window above the sink, seeing you heading across the yard. He smiles a little and turns to Jack.

“Did you ever think we’d end up together?” He asks, genuinely wanting his brother’s input.

Jack winces, shrugging a little, “not really. We’ve all known each other so long and you two are so opposite.

Roman nods, looking back out at you again, “yeah that’s fair. I feel like she’s been off the last couple months though.”

“She seems fine to me,” Jack defends you, crossing his arms across his chest.

“I’m sure you’d know all about that. You’ve been hanging off her side all summer. Listen, I know you haven’t been single in a while but you don’t have to hang out with my girlfriend all the time.”

“Maybe if you treated her better she’d hang out with you more than me,” Jack argues back, kicking himself as soon as the words slip out.

Roman’s jaw tenses for a moment, “you don’t know anything about how I treat her or our relationship.”

“I know a hell of a lot more than you think.”

He’s surprisingly calm as he says it, so much so that Roman even hesitates to think about it. Jack had been the one in a long term relationship and Roman usually talked to girls for a bit and moved on. He files that away for a different time to ask you how you felt about it.

“I don’t want to sound like a dick,” Jack mumbles, “I hope that doesn’t come across wrong. You know you're my brother and I’d do anything for you.”

Roman nods, knowing he’d only said it with everyone’s best interest in mind, “no, you’re right I think. As much as I hate to admit that.”

Jack smiles at him finally and pushes his shoulder. Roman shrugs it off but knows what he needs to do before your movie night later that day.

—

You should feel cozy. You’ve got comfy clothes on, you’re under a blanket on your own couch, and there’s a movie queued up and ready to play. Except Roman can’t seem to sit down and he’s all keyed up. You feel the emotions rolling off him and finally you snap.

“Would you sit down? Or at least tell me what’s got you all worked up?” You sit forward, reaching for his hand.

He looks over at you, seeming shy suddenly, “do you think I treat you okay?”

“Uhm,” you stutter, instantly taken off guard by his question. You think for a moment, trying to get your thoughts in order before you follow up, “what makes you think you don’t?”

“I was just thinking about it earlier today. You’d call me out on it if I wasn’t, right?”

You nod slowly, “I mean I think so? It’s kind of an awkward thing to bring up to someone but I’d let you know.”

“Okay, good. You deserve to be happy so I want you to be treated well.”

You smile, feeling a little at ease when he finally sits down next to you. You settle into his side for the movie but your brain is spinning in overdrive. You’d heard murmurs from Jack when Roman does something to you that he doesn’t fully agree with. He wouldn’t have said anything though, would he? A week ago you would have said no way, but after the kitchen incident that morning… you weren’t sure of anything now other than the way your heart had flipped from Jack’s touch.

—

The movie night ran so long that you and Roman ended up sleeping on the couch. The only reason you get up that morning rather than staying nestled in his arms is the fact you need a bathroom break immediately after waking. You’re careful to untangle from him and before you go back, you start a pot of coffee. It was better when you woke up to someone having it ready for you, but you were independent. You could do this.

You end up staring at the pot as it brews, jumping when Roman comes behind you and wraps his arms around your waist.

“I’m sorry,” he laughs, kissing your shoulder.

You don’t put your hands over his arms like usual, but you do pat them for a second, “sorry, I was zoned out.”

“I see that. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

“Too much,” you laugh, trying to play it cool.

“You want to darty with some of the boys today?” He asks, letting you go and reaching for a cup to get water.

“Not really,” you answer honestly, “I wanted to get some groceries and clean up around here.”

He frowns immediately, “why are you such a buzzkill? Why can’t we ever have fun?”

“Why do we always have to party, Ro? Why can’t we relax for one day? I can’t keep up with you,” you shake your head, instantly aggravated by his mood shift.

You take a deep breath, finally losing your cool, “we haven’t even dated for three months, Roman, and all we’ve done is fight. What are we even together for if we can’t get along?”

You were tired of it. You were so tired of always fighting over differing opinions. You and Jack barely disagreed but his brother could hardly make it a week without an argument with you. Roman doesn’t expect the bluntness but he’d been asking himself the same thing lately.

“We do fight a lot, huh?” He sets the still empty glass down on the counter.

You feel guilty then, knowing you shouldn’t have blown up like that, but you couldn’t hold it in anymore, “I’m sorry.”

He steps back over to you and turns you towards him, “no I’m sorry. I think we tried too hard to make this a thing when we should have just stayed friends.”

You nod, laughing a little, “of course the time we agree so easily is when we’re calling things off.”

Roman laughs too, shaking his head, “yeah, go figure. Is that what you want then? You want to go back to just friends?”

“I think it might be for the best. I don’t want to lose you as a friend, too.”

He pulls you into a big hug and you swear you couldn’t hold him any tighter. It’s an odd finish but you don’t feel any hard feelings from either side. He kisses the side of your head as he pulls away, giving you a gentle smile.

“You know if you ever need anything to just call me, okay? I’m still here for you.”

“Thanks, Ro. Same for you,” you nod.

He grabs the few things he had sitting around and slips his shoes on. An awkward wave is all he leaves you with and suddenly you’re all alone in your apartment, but you don’t feel alone. You feel an odd sense of calm instead as you go about your morning. You had no worries now. Well, none except for a certain brother of someone you’d just let walk out your door.

—

You spend two weeks doing your own thing. Whatever you want, whenever you want, with whoever you want. You saw friends more that week than you had all summer and you were out to eat at least half the days of the week. You were having fun and enjoying the last little bit of time before summer ended and the real world set back in.

You felt amazing from the reset. It’s not that Roman had suppressed you by any means, but there was something about knowing you wouldn’t be fighting with anyone that made your chest feel lighter.

You’re happily cleaning up after dinner, singing along to the song that played through your speakers, when your phone buzzes on the counter. Your heart always stops for a second before you check the name. Part of you may have hoped it was Jack, but in the two weeks since you’d had your moment that changed things in the kitchen you hadn’t heard anything. You figured things only changed for you and not him. You were silly to think you could go from one brother to the next.

Your friend had texted you about brunch the next day and you quickly tap a reply before skipping the current song you had on. You finish loading the dishwasher and dry your hands on a towel, looking around to make sure your kitchen was all cleaned up.

You’re about to pour another glass of wine when a knock on the door gets your attention. You pause your music and check the peephole, quickly opening the door when you see who it is.

“Jack?” You're surprised, shocked even, but he smiles like there’s not a problem in his world.

“Hi, stranger. Haven’t heard from you in a while,” he answers.

“What are you doing here?” You question, not having expected him, but realizing you wouldn’t have wanted to see anyone else standing where he was.

“I just wanted to make sure I didn’t do anything wrong? I heard what happened.”

His question has you reaching for him and pulling him inside quicker than you have time to think, “What could you possibly have done? If anything you got me to hang on longer than I thought I would.”

His worried expression doesn’t drop when you pull him in and he’s quick to shut the door behind him.

“Hang on longer? To what?” He asks, a little confused but also trying not to get too excited about how quickly you’d reached for him.

“If it weren’t for you, I maybe would’ve given up the fight a little sooner than I did. But you always see the good in people and it made me want to see the good in my relationship, but then I realized maybe I was hanging on for the wrong reasons… for the wrong brother. I wanted to keep my ties with you as much as I did him.”

Jack is shocked by what you say but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to hear it, “the wrong brother? That’s a big statement right there. Are you sure?”

The thought was scary and you had no clue what the fallout might be from it, but you knew you liked him. You liked being around him, spending time with him, and keeping each other company.

“I definitely picked the wrong brother I think,” you laugh nervously.

He had every right to shoot you down. You had just broken up with his little brother after all. When you really thought about it, which you had been doing a lot lately, he was the one that was always looking out for you, making sure you were comfortable and happy, always someone who could make you laugh despite whatever had led to making you feel like you could cry. Jack knew the situation could be messy considering who you had just broken up with but he couldn’t deny that the way you fit in his life wasn’t something he was willing to give up.

He can’t help the little smile that comes onto his face even though you look so nervous you could cry, “I always knew Grant would win one of these days.”

It’s so ridiculous that you do let out a couple tears but you’re laughing so hard you almost double over. Jack matches it, but starts to move a little closer until his hands find your hips.

You take a deep breath and grab onto his arms, “would your mom hate me? I really miss her already.”

“I’m probably 99% sure my mom loves you more than any of her actual sons,” he shakes his head, but it wasn’t a lie. She thought the world of you, “you know she pulled me aside the other day after Roman told her about you guys. She said I needed to look out for you still.”

Your face shows the shock you feel but there’s something else with it too. A sense of excitement that you hadn’t messed up a major part of your life by dating a childhood friend and having it go wrong.

“Oh she did?” You finally ask, smirking up at him.

“That’s a troublemaker’s look if I’ve ever seen one from you. What are you thinking?”

You shrug, but quickly look down at his lips before looking back up, “I can think of a few things.”

“I leave soon though. Two more weeks and I’m back to Providence,” he warns but neither of you pay attention to that.

“Make it worth it then.”

“Oh I plan on it. Now we can actually do this without sneaking around in kitchens,” he smirks.

You laugh and pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, “no one I’d rather sneak around with.”

You knew it wasn’t ideal and you’d have to be careful with how fast things went but you knew he’d treat you the way you deserved. He’d always treat you better than anyone else.

#roman ahcan #jack ahcan #wisconsin hockey #providence bruins #hockey fic #my writing #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #college hockey fic #brock boeser #he's mentioned lol #a lot #mine

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