#and i wasn't kidding about the 6k

[wrenaspun]

OMEGAVERSE

Ok listen - my dark secret is that I've spent years going Oh I don't know, I don't think I'll ever write omegaverse... and you sent this in to clown on me but GUESS WHAT! when I try my hand at something I take it SERIOUSLY. This is 6k. It has scene breaks. Bon appetit -

Laurent hated his annual checkups. This was not a quality he appreciated in himself, but it was difficult to reason the feeling away. He saw Paschal in a old house converted to incorporate a homey front-room office, nothing like the old cliche of white walls and antiseptic, but there was still the indignity of being poked and prodded, the feeling of being under examination, the crawling flush of humiliation whenever he flinched from a harmless touch. It was unpleasant. He didn’t like it.

He had always made a point of getting in and out as fast as possible; there was no reason why this appointment would be any different. Except, when Paschal clicked around on his ancient-looking brick of a desktop computer and said, “I’ll renew your suppressant prescription for next year, then,” Laurent found himself tensing.

The word bubbled out of him before he could think: “Wait.” He heard himself as though from far away; it took a moment to register that something had come from his mouth. Paschal blinked once, twice, and then turned to Laurent with his eyebrows raised halfway up his forehead.

The silence stretched out to fill the room. Laurent wanted to say — nevermind, forget it. It was on the tip of his tongue. It wouldn’t quite come out of his mouth. Eventually Paschal was the one to say, “Yes?”

Laurent said, “You’re the one who’s always saying I should cycle off them. Have you just been saying that for fun?” His voice was snappish, too aggressive.

Paschal knew him too well to react. “No, of course not,” he said slowly. “I still believe it would be good for you.”

Laurent waited, half-hoping and half-dreading that he would continue, would say something prevaricating: but you don’t have to, or, you’ve never even entertained the idea before, or even just, what changed?

Paschal offered none of these escape routes. “All right,” he said mildly. “I’ll adjust the amount on your prescription. If you change your mind, you can always make another appointment with me.” It was as good as a taunt, Laurent thought resentfully. They both knew he wasn’t coming back here any sooner than he absolutely had to.

And because no good deed went unpunished, he had to sit through an extra five-minute explanation on how to cycle off his current weekly dosage before he was finally released, clutching his adjusted prescription, blinking and stumbling down the stoop like some new strange creature who hadn’t ever lived in the world before. The paper in his hands felt oddly heavy, weighty. There was some part of him which believed it couldn’t be that easy, and another which wanted to turn around and say to Paschal that there had been a mistake, that it’d been a joke, some strange trick. It wasn’t — he wasn’t —

He kept walking. It was done, he told himself. There was no changing it now. He would have the requisite conversation with Damen tonight, and then he could direct his mind elsewhere until —

Even now, he shied away from thinking about it. Events would unfold of their own accord. There was no point worrying about it. He got his prescription filled and tucked the innocuous little bottle into an inner pocket of his bag where he wouldn’t have to look at it.

—

That evening, he said, “I have to talk to you,” over dinner, “about the checkup.” And then the words dried up; Damen’s interest became concern and then outright worry.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, a little tentative, his broad hand a little too tight around his fork. “Laurent, don’t keep me in suspense.” It was half a joke and half a plea.

Laurent shook his head. Forced himself to say, “Paschal recommended I cycle off my suppressants. At least once. Since I’ve been on them for so long.”

Damen was so lovely that, absurdly, it made the words difficult to say. Any other alpha would accept it without question — would be eager, even — if Laurent had said to them that he needed to go through a heat. Those were exactly the kinds of alphas who’d be put off by Laurent’s first date declaration, I’m never cycling off my suppressants, ever, it’s not even on the table, who’d roll their eyes and walk out on him muttering about frigid bitches —

Not Damen, who had just nodded. All right, he’d said, so unquestioningly open that Laurent had found himself saying more, I don’t like how it feels, except that Damen had only smiled again and said that he didn’t have to explain.

Perfect, at the time, but now he looked worried, and Laurent didn’t know how to reassure him. “You have to?” he asked. “Is there — some kind of problem —?”

“No,” said Laurent. “It’s precautionary. It’s just letting my body reset itself.”

“Right,” said Damen. The silence stretched out, awkward, between them. Neither of them were eating anymore. Finally, Damen said, “Do you want me to — go somewhere —?”

“No!” Laurent barely stopped himself from snapping, that would defeat the whole point, idiot. He felt his jaw twitch. If Damen didn’t want to heat with him — it would certainly be one of Laurent’s graver miscalculations. But this was Damen. The thought that he’d want to leave Laurent alone through a heat was inconceivable.

When Laurent finally looked up, Damen was watching him, brow furrowed. “Laurent,” he said.

Laurent’s cheeks felt like they were on fire. “Are you going to make me say it?” he demanded, and Damen’s face opened into a hesitant little smile that did strange things to Laurent’s stomach.

“Sweetheart,” he said, “I’d be honoured.”

For a moment it was difficult to breathe. It was as though there was something inside Laurent’s chest, blocking his lungs, blocking his throat. He turned back to his food, staring down at the blue florals. “Good,” he said. And then, “It probably won’t happen any time soon.” His body was too used to the suppressants.

“That’s good,” said Damen. “If you change your mind —”

“I won’t change my mind.” Sharply.

“All right,” said Damen, voice soft. Then he reached over and twined their fingers together, under the table, and said nothing when Laurent’s hand tightened as though clutching a lifeline.

—

It took four months, in the end. Long enough that Laurent had stopped thinking about it, for the most part. He didn’t even realise — what was happening, when it first started. He thought he was coming down with something. The ecology textbook he was meant to be editing didn’t seem to make any sense; the words on the page in front of him were swimming slightly. His face felt flushed and overheated, maybe feverish. He tried a few times to put his hand to his forehead, second-guessing the way it felt.

It was confusing mostly because he hadn’t had the chance to get sick recently — it’d been a quiet few weeks, mostly nights at home with Damen. The textbook had him a little stressed because he didn’t know the first thing about ecology, but it was no worse than any other job that the publishing house had pushed on him. But that was how sicknesses worked, he supposed. Random unlucky encounters while they were out running errands. They’d done the groceries — was it last weekend? He couldn’t focus properly.

He kept going anyway, mostly because to curl up in bed sounded a little too tempting, and there was the hope in the back of his mind that he’d be able to fight through it by sheer force of will. He did take a couple of the emergency paracetamol that Damen had stashed in his desk, but he didn’t feel much effect.

“Honey, I’m home!”

Laurent startled and looked at the clock: sure enough, the rest of the workday had ground by. He’d been working overtime for half an hour, actually. What was wrong with him today?

He shook his head just in time for Damen to poke his head into the little office, a frown already on his face. He started, “What are you —”

“Don’t come near,” said Laurent hastily, attempting to roll his chair backwards to little effect — the desk was a rather immovable obstacle. “I think I’m getting sick.”

Damen was looking at him wide-eyed. He’d trailed off, but his mouth was hanging a little open. Laurent wanted to kiss it. He wanted to get up and wrap himself in Damen’s arms and get rid of their clothes, fast, the better to have Damen over him, skin-to-skin…

“Sweetheart,” said Damen, “I don’t think you’re getting sick.”

Laurent still didn’t realise, not even then. It was only when Damen inhaled, a long, slow, indulgent breath that would lay Laurent’s scent thick and heavy on his tongue, that the pieces clicked.

Laurent said, “Oh, fuck.”

He’d been such an idiot. The signs had all been there — the irritability, the flushes of heat, the lack of focus. The way his mind kept returning, like a dog with a bone, to thoughts of Damen’s naked body, the way he’d look pressed up against Laurent, the way his hands would feel… Laurent loved Damen’s hands, broad and capable, graceful and gentle.

“We can still get you on suppressants if you want,” Damen offered, quiet. “They have the medical-grade ones for late-stage preheat. We still have enough time to drive to the hospital.”

There were medical-grade suppressants that could stop a full heat in its tracks, even. The offer hung between them, tantalising.

“No,” said Laurent. “Don’t think you’re getting out of it this easily.”

Damen’s mouth ticked up, which usually would have sent a little thrill through Laurent’s blood and which now made him feel on the point of explosion. He stood up so forcefully that his chair was propelled into the desk behind him, crashing unpleasantly against the wood — Laurent couldn’t bring himself to care. He was darting into Damen’s arms. Damen caught him up without any effort at all, and Laurent buried his face into Damen’s neck where the scent of him was strongest, the earthy, deep smell which was nothing but a comfort.

“Laurent.” Damen’s arms tightened around him, and Laurent felt a little of the tension leave his body. Oh, it’d been such a long day. “Laurent.”

“Hmm?”

“I — we can’t, yet —” and the arms began to push Laurent away, which was awful. “Laurent, please.”

“Don’t you want —”

“I want,” said Damen fervently. There was a hint of a growl in his voice. Laurent realised, in an abrupt moment of clarity, that he was wet. “We need to prepare. You need to take your heat leave,” nodding at the computer behind Laurent. “I’ll email my work. And then I need to get some meals ready.”

“Some meals?” echoed Laurent.

The look Damen gave him was heated. “I’m not letting you out of bed for three days, sweetheart.”

“I — oh.” Even through the faintly feverish texture of preheat, Laurent could feel himself blushing.

Damen tipped his chin up with one finger and kissed his lips very lightly. “You can prepare the bedroom while I’m in the kitchen. I’ll be up in no time.”

“All right.” Laurent could hear the sighing breathiness of his own voice. Damen kissed him again, still light, which was a mercy; Laurent didn’t think he would survive it, if Damen had kissed him properly only to pull away.

“Soon,” said Damen, in the tone of a promise, and then he was pulling away, and then he was gone.

Laurent stood uselessly in the doorway for a full five seconds after Damen had ducked into the kitchen and out of sight, blinking hazily, focusing entirely on resisting the urge to follow Damen like a little duckling.

Email, he thought finally, and tore himself away from the threshold. He tapped out a cursory notice to the publishing house, cc’d his client, slammed the laptop shut.

He was preoccupied as he made his way upstairs, thinking about Damen, about the abnormal sensations within his own body, and so it was only once he had entered the bedroom that he realised he had no idea what Damen meant when he’d said Laurent could prepare the bedroom. What did that even entail? Laurent regarded the room with some bemusement. It was decently clean — neither of them were particularly messy — with a few belongings scattered about on the dresser and bedside tables. Laurent took a breath, but it was difficult to think. Did Damen want the room cleaned before they spent three days rolling around in the sheets? He had never been particularly fussy about such things before. Was there something he wanted, or was it more of a general expression, to prepare the bedroom? Laurent could practically feel the gaps in his knowledge taunting him. Was there a wrong way to prepare a bedroom?

He didn’t know how much time he wasted just standing there, looking over at the bed. Finally, the thought struck him: sheets, obviously. Damen had gone and bought a nice set of mattress and duvet protectors after Laurent had cycled off his suppressants. They were meant to go under the normal sheets, because everyone said the same thing, that heating was a messy experience, that it was hell on bedding. Laurent went to the linen closet on light feet, feeling almost like he was floating from the relief of having found something to do.

He hadn’t actually seen the protectors before; Damen had just called on his way home one day and asked whether Laurent preferred one brand or the other. Laurent didn’t care, didn’t want to think about it, so Damen had made the decision and put the package away when he got home.

Laurent should probably have paid more attention, if only to curb Damen’s tendency to extravagance. He’d bought — it didn’t even seem possible that a single box could hold so many sheets. It was at least twice the amount of bedding that one would find in a standard set. Probably three times as much. Surely heating wasn’t that destructive.

He took what he needed and returned to the bedroom. It took a little longer than usual to change the sheets — they usually did this together, if only because the mattress was ridiculously large — but he managed finally to get everything where it was supposed to be. He was too nervous for it too feel like a real achievement. There was a raw, jagged feeling under his skin, a physical sort of ache. He wanted Damen. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something he’d missed.

Just as the crest of impatience was tipping over into a crisis, Damen’s footsteps echoed up the stairs. Laurent, dignity abandoned, leapt to the doorway, looking out. Damen was carrying a bag, one of those reusable totes from the supermarket, heavy enough that his biceps were straining a little with it. Laurent felt his heart pulse irregularly. He was halfway down the corridor, wanting the heady elixir of Damen’s attention and focus.

“Hello,” he said breathlessly, when Damen smiled at him. The smile widened. Damen’s dimple was a lovely tease.

“Hello,” said Damen, bringing his free hand up to cradle Laurent’s cheek. “Do you want to eat now?”

A quick glance down revealed that the tote bag was full of tupperware, all of it steamed up from being freshly cooked. But — “I couldn’t,” Laurent admitted. It was true. His stomach was in knots.

“It’ll keep,” said Damen. “Can I come in?”

Absurdly, Laurent realised that some part of himself wanted to say no. He quashed it carefully and said, “Yes, of course.”

He was watching Damen’s face as they walked; that was why he saw the quick flicker of surprise, of dismay, which crossed his expression as he came into the room. Laurent blamed his hormones on the fact that this felt like being stabbed. He felt himself flame up red, blood rushing to his face.

Damen was looking down at him uncertainly, which was terrible. Then he said, gently, “Laurent, are you sure you want —?” which was worse.

“Of course I want,” snapped Laurent.

“We can still go to the hospital —”

“Shut up.” This was more painful than being stabbed. “I said I would, and I will. I want to — I — why would you think otherwise?” And under the force of Damen’s gaze, Laurent heard himself say, “What did I do wrong?”

The bag of food dropped inelegantly to the floor. Damen was taking hold of Laurent around the waist, still a warm and comforting presence. “It’s not wrong,” he said. “I misspoke.”

“But there was something,” said Laurent, and forced himself to step back. Damen hesitated. “Damen, just say it.”

Damen said, “I thought there would be a nest.”

It was so unexpected that for a moment Laurent’s mind did not compute it. Damen might as well have said, I thought you would grow an extra limb. “What?” he said. “Why?”

A helpless look. “I don’t know,” said Damen. “I suppose it must be more common in Akielos.”

“But nests are —” Laurent hesitated. The words from his adolescence bubbled up, but felt somehow wrong to say. Unhygienic. Primitive, backwards, unsophisticated.

Damen’s expression flickered, as though he was hearing the words anyway. Laurent changed courses and said, “You’ve heated with others before. Other Veretians.”

Now it was Damen’s turn to hesitate, eyeing Laurent carefully as though nervous he would burst into flames at the thought. When this did not occur, he said, “Yes. And there was always — so I suppose that’s why I assumed.” And then, quickly: “But it doesn’t matter, obviously. We can do what you want.”

He stepped forward, but Laurent stepped back, thinking — he felt like his mind was overheating like a faulty computer. He was thinking about books, about movies, the way that the height of romance was always a nest. At the time, he’d thought it was cheesy, mawkish, a cultural signifier more than a gesture real people would be likely to make, the same as covering a mattress with rose petals or turning out all the lights to have dinner by candlelight. And he was also thinking about how the voice in his head was his uncle’s, cold and amused. The extra sheet protectors, Laurent thought, with another flush of embarrassment. It wasn’t overly-stocked out of generosity or even out of extravagance. He was supposed to have used them in his nest.

“Laurent,” said Damen, “I’m sorry I raised it —”

“How,” said Laurent abruptly, and Damen cut himself off, “do you build a nest?”

Damen briefly looked like he was struggling to speak. After a moment he said, “You don’t have to.”

“If I wanted to,” said Laurent. “How would I?”

Damen said, “Have you never…?”

“Never,” said Laurent. And, absurdly, a flicker of anger crossed Damen’s expression.

But all he said was, “You start with the heavier things,” voice even, “and work your way to the lighter blankets. You shape it around you. It’s meant to be comfortable. There’s no wrong way to do it, really, except that going from light to heavy can be less stable.”

Laurent said, “Show me.”

Damen looked at him a little helplessly, but he at least did Laurent the favour of not asking yet again whether he was sure. “Wait here,” he said, and went off to the linen closet, came back with what looked like its entire contents heaped in his arms.

Something about the sight — Damen’s strength, his bulk, harnessed for the purpose of carrying around piles of cloth — tugged fiercely at Laurent’s heart. “Damen,” he said.

Damen said, “Don’t come too close, sweetheart. We don’t want your heat to set in yet.”

It took a moment to understand what he meant; Laurent was not a fan of feeling this slow, this stupid. It was fairly well known — and there were studies to back it up — that preheat would graduate to full heat much faster in the face of skin-to-skin contact with a partner. It was awful, to stay back. Damen knelt on the ground to separate out the different blankets, and then looked up at Laurent.

“It might be better if you sat on the bed,” he said. “I can pass you what you want.”

Laurent went and pushed the single duvet aside and sat. It felt — stupid. It was hard not to feel self-conscious, sitting on an almost-empty mattress and looking over at Damen. “Give me the heavy one, then,” he said.

Damen did. Laurent tried to hold it in his hands, but it was too large to be contained, and tumbled eventually to pool around his legs. Damen was watching him.

Again he said, “It doesn’t matter how you do it. There’s no wrong way.”

Easy for you to say, Laurent wanted to snap, but he restrained himself. He didn’t like feeling this way, hot and angry and resentful.

Damen said, “Do you want me to go?”

“Why,” said Laurent, unable to keep the jagged edge from his voice, “would I want you to go?”

A swallow. Damen said, soft: “It’s an intimate thing, to build the nest. Even more than being invited into it. If you feel uncomfortable —”

“Shut up,” said Laurent. “Shut up.” And he shoved the duvet to one side of him, kicking it into a rough curve around his left side. “Give me the other one.”

Damen shut up and obeyed. Laurent put it along his other side, mirroring the first.

“Next,” he said, and Damen obliged him again. The next blanket was a little lighter. Laurent said, “Take that end and hold it.”

Damen did. His eyes were a little wide, in the manner of one who hadn’t expected this. An intimate thing, he’d called it, and his tone had been soft and reverent. Laurent tamped down on the emotions in his chest and tucked the blanket demonstratively over the top of the duvet beside him, nodding for Damen to do the same.

The worked together, then, layering the blankets around Laurent, the nest slowly building in shape and solidity. Damen’s hands were so — wide and capable, manipulating the fabric, making sure everything fit together, taking time and care with every movement. Laurent heard his words again, an intimate thing, and this time he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Who did you build nests with, then?” He felt hot and jealous and uncontrolled. He wanted to go find whoever it was and tear their throat out with his teeth. “Jokaste?”

A surprised look, which melted into something like a smile. “No,” said Damen. “She didn’t like heats either. She was on suppressants most of the time we were together.” And then, when this clearly did not satisfy Laurent, “When we heated, she built the nest. Alone.”

“Who, then,” Laurent gritted.

Damen grinned at him, wide and dazzling. “My mother,” he said. “In Akielos — we nest as a family, when the pups are young. It’s very common. And she always let me help.”

The knot of jealousy abated. Laurent felt his jaw twitch, humiliation warring with satisfaction. From a distant vantage point, some small part of his remaining sense decided that he was being foolish. But Damen was grinning at him still, his scent rich with pleasure, and it was impossible to feel too badly in the face of that relentless happiness.

“Hurry up,” said Laurent, and he could hear the way his voice came out — nowhere near as sharp as he had intended. He sounded sappy, a little shy. Very stupid. It only made Damen smile harder. His dimple was trying to dig its way through his cheek.

“Yes, sweetheart,” said Damen, and he was the one who took the last blankets and settled them over the edges of the nest, shaping the construction carefully. He looked at Laurent, a little quizzical, and then said, “Lie down.”

Laurent did. It felt — it was difficult to describe how it felt. He’d never known this was an option. Carefully, he turned his head into the soft bedding, inhaling, smelling the detergent they used. It was good, he thought. It was soft, warm — even though he knew it was a simple pacifier to his baser instincts, the appeal came through loud and clear. It was primally, viscerally satisfying to lie in a nest of his own creation, safe in a way that very little else had ever been. Absurdly, he had the thought that he wanted to add curtains to the bed. He wanted to shut out the rest of the world, to have it be just him and Damen…

Damen said, “If you don’t like it, we can push it off and go with your original way.”

“I didn’t say that,” Laurent muttered.

“Speak louder, baby.”

“Come here,” Laurent said louder. Damen’s hand brushed against his wrist.

“Yeah?”

“Hurry up,” snapped Laurent. Damen laughed a little and levered himself carefully into the nest, and oh —

All of a sudden, it was perfect. It was as though Damen had been the only thing missing. Laurent launched himself forward, arms going around Damen’s neck, breathing in, wiping out the rest of the world so that Damen was the only thing that existed, Damen’s warm steady body, Damen’s scent — Laurent inhaled and inhaled until he was faintly dizzy from it. Damen was murmuring into his ear, sweetheart, you’re so lovely, you’re so good, words that made Laurent want to bite him.

He could, he thought dizzily. There was no reason not to. Damen made a pitchy, breathy noise when Laurent’s teeth closed against his neck, and then graduated to a long groan.

“Laurent,” he said, “Laurent —”

Laurent was too busy to reply. Damen’s hand came to cradle the back of his head. Laurent’s whole body felt like it surged in response to the touch, his breath crushed from his lungs, his heart hammering in his chest. Damen groaned again, but this time there was a new timbre to the noise.

“Oh, there you are,” he said, running a hand up Laurent’s side. “Do you feel that?”

Feel what, Laurent almost said, and then realised — he was in heat. Full, proper heat now, roaring through his veins.

It was fierce, all-consuming, and yet it felt nothing like Laurent had remembered. His first heat had set upon him like a wild creature, digging teeth and claws through him. It had been an experience chiefly significant for its pain, for the way he sweated and cried and shook his way through it, the way he had felt fever-hot and thought his heart would burst for hammering. That’s it? he’d thought, in the aftermath, that’s what everyone goes wild for? It was an insane thought to him that anyone would choose to go through it again. He’d arranged to be put on suppressants as soon as he could walk again.

This felt nothing like that. This wasn’t even hot — it was warm, like sitting just slightly too close to a fireside, and it ran through his veins like liquid gold. Everywhere that Damen touched, he felt himself respond, but there was no pain to it, none of the fierce shrieking need which he had suffered before.

Vaguely, he heard himself murmuring, oh, oh, Damen… Nonsense sounds, mostly, interspersed with Damen’s name, and every time Damen acted as though he’d shared the secrets of the very universe, cooing back with his whole heart. Laurent took control of his mouth again and said, “Damen, please. I need you.”

“I’m with you,” Damen murmured. He was working Laurent out of his clothes, fingers fumbling around the same buttons he could have undone in his sleep last night. “Laurent, I’m here. Oh, look at you…”

Laurent looked. Damen was looking at the slick between his legs, the dampness across his thighs. His gaze was bright and eager. Laurent said, “Don’t tease me.”

Damen’s eyes flickered up to search his face. “No?” he asked.

Laurent bit his lip. He was already red and flushed, he thought, which at least camouflaged his reaction. “Not — as much, then,” he said. “Unless you want me to die here,” and Damen grinned. It felt obscene, the wholesomeness of the expression, his peeking dimple, when one considered what he was smiling about.

“Noted,” said Damen, and brushed a finger over Laurent’s hole. Laurent heard himself make a sound like he was dying.

Before Damen, he’d never liked being teased. He’d never liked drawing it out; even when it was just himself in the bedroom, perhaps especially then, he’d used to bring himself off quickly, efficiently, and then box up the experience without dwelling on it. Damen was — the opposite of that. He loved to touch; sometimes he would touch Laurent aimlessly, all night, drifting his fingertips along Laurent’s shoulders and collarbone and neck, his sides, his stomach… And in bed, he would touch Laurent everywhere, light touches and long caresses and cruel little pinches and everything in between. He loved to draw it out; he loved for Laurent to lose himself to it, surrendering his tightly held self-control to start pushing back mindlessly into everything, to make soft noises with his mouth, to say yes, yes, Damen and please, right there.

Even the first time, when Laurent felt most strongly that he should have hated it, he didn’t. He couldn’t. There was something about the way Damen looked at him, awed and sweet; and there was something about the way that every touch became a promise, the tease itself becoming a token of Damen’s intentions.

Damen didn’t break his word. There was something horribly satisfying about begging, knowing that everything one wanted would come. It became a pleasure in itself to say Damen, please, I need you inside, and to be briefly denied, knowing that Damen would do everything, fulfill every promise. Damen would probably fight a god to make Laurent feel good.

“Ah, sweetheart, your scent,” Damen groaned. And then he put his face against Laurent’s neck and just inhaled, long and luxurious. It was like Laurent had been kicked in the stomach, the sudden blow of arousal.

“Damen,” he said, not sounding like himself at all.

“I know,” said Damen. “I know — just let me —” and he moved down, nudging Laurent’s knees apart, inhaling again, god — like it was bliss, like Laurent’s slick was —

And then his mouth was on Laurent, hot and wet and ravenous, and Laurent’s mind went utterly blank. Damen’s touch — his tongue — Laurent came like that, a brutal wave of pleasure that wiped everything else away, the whole rest of the world. All that mattered was Damen, the way he groaned, the way his hands tightened around Laurent’s thighs, the way he kept going and going and going —

Laurent had to push him away after the second peak — had to use far more force than usual. The whole lower half of Damen’s face was wet when he finally raised it, and he was breathing hard. Laurent could feel the movement of those broad shoulders in his thighs.

“Damen,” he said dazedly, all of a sudden finding it difficult to remember why he shouldn’t just let Damen lick him through the whole rest of his heat.

“Laurent,” said Damen, with a grin that was absolutely filthy. He rose to his knees and came up the bed towards Laurent, and he was truly just — a magnificent specimen, all broad shoulders and rolling muscle and strong shoulders. Laurent could have just watched him in that moment and been happy for the rest of his life.

Except not, obviously. Damen kissed him and desire ran through him like a shockwave. He was saying — something, he didn’t know, his mouth was utterly out of his own control —

“I know,” Damen was saying now, lining their bodies up, “you don’t have to beg, sweetheart, I’ll give you everything, anything you want,” and clearly he meant it because he was pushing inside, and Laurent heard himself make a noise he didn’t think he’d ever made before. “I know,” said Damen, biting his neck gently, and the resultant wave of pleasure was so great that it was like coming, just like that.

It was all Laurent could do to grab his shoulders and hold on. His whole body was torn between the urge to melt underneath Damen and the desperate need to move against him, to drive them to go harder and faster.

“Like this,” Damen murmured, kissing Laurent again, holding his hips and pushing inside in just the right way. Laurent’s head fell back helplessly. It felt so good. His mind was breaking apart, almost unable to comprehend it all.

“Knot me,” he said then. His voice was raw; he’d been moaning, he realised belatedly. “Damen, please —”

“I know,” said Damen again. “Sweetheart, you’re so good, you’re so perfect. Like that, yes, Laurent —”

His knot was starting to swell; it was all Laurent could feel, the whole of his awareness narrowing down to that single point between them.

One of Damen’s hands slid to the inside of Laurent’s thigh, pushing his leg outward, making everything feel more sensitive, more overwhelming. His knot was almost too large now, taking real effort to shift in and out of Laurent’s hungry body. Laurent was grasping desperately at Damen’s shoulders, panting, open-mouthed, as his pleasure built impossibly high and then crashed over him like a wave, knocking him off his feet, sending him into unfathomable depths.

“Inside me,” he begged then, feeling beyond his own limits, as though he had been broken into pieces. “Damen, please, I want it —”

Damen groaned and kissed him desperately, their mouths open to each other, and then he finally thrust in properly, tying them together, stretching out the last aftershocks of Laurent’s orgasm.

It was like nothing Laurent had felt before, the way that everything was drawn out — even more than regular knotting, the fact that his body was in heat seemed to mean it was grabbing, greedy, at every chance for pleasure. And Damen was moving slowly, crooning into Laurent’s ear, telling him how lovely he was, how sweet and warm and wet, and Laurent was shuddering helplessly against him.

But even once that wave had crested, and they came back to themselves, it was still new and wonderful; Laurent reached out with one hand to touch the side of his nest, the sheets which were sheltering and protecting him.

“I want curtains,” he said blurrily, his own impulse control too thin and worn to check his words. “On the bed. Around.”

“Yes,” Damen said. It was almost a groan. He was nosing at Laurent’s neck, inhaling. “Anything, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”

“I want you,” Laurent said breathlessly. “Kiss me.”

Damen did, open-mouthed and luxurious. And then — he began to move, shifting his hips in tiny, infinitesimal motions that crashed through Laurent’s sensitive body like a tidal wave. The huge bulk of his knot was overwhelming when it was still. It felt impossible that he could fuck Laurent on it. It felt absurdly good.

Laurent wound his arms around Damen’s neck, ran his fingers through the beloved dark curls. “Damen.”

“Once more,” Damen murmured, kissing Laurent’s neck, his jaw, the corner of his mouth. His hands were skimming along Laurent’s sides, the kind of light, gentle touch which drove Laurent utterly mad. “Come for me one more time, sweetheart.”

“I’m already — I’m close.” The heat was lurking under his skin, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

Damen kissed him again, brought one hand down to caress the inside of his thigh, and Laurent was gone. The pleasure was so intense that it was like blacking out, his vision growing spotty, ears ringing. He couldn’t hear the noises he was making, only knew they were coming out because he felt the way Damen’s kiss to his throat vibrated.

They were both panting afterwards, both holding very still, too sensitive. Every time Laurent tensed around the knot inside him, Damen would react, shuddering or groaning or both.

“I lied,” he said eventually, and Laurent was too pleasure-soaked to feel even a flicker of concern. Damen nosed at his jaw. “It’s not going to be just the once more.”

A breathless laugh. Laurent wound his arms around Damen’s neck, kissing his cheek, his eyes, his lovely nose. “It better not be,” he said. “Didn’t you promise me three days?”

[just-some-random-blogger]

Losing Dogs

Neither you or Aegon wanted to get married. Neither you or Aegon wanted to marry each other. But at some point, you figured you should make the most of what you had, and so you offer your husband a deal he cannot refuse.

Aegon Targaryen x Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, arranged marriage/loveless marriage, smut (piv, virginity loss, rough/loveless sex) DD:DNE, alcoholism, violence, suicide/suicidal thoughts & ideation, mentions of domestic/child abuse, death, pregnancy/miscarriage, aegon's mommy issues, insecurities, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: ... i had something to say about this fic but i forgot... maybe ill remember later???? edit: i did not remember. i thought of mitski while entitling this so go play i bet on losing dogs ig?

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @azperja @sloanexx @risefallrise

You don't know what you have until it's gone.

Aegon only truly understood what this meant the day he was married and he was forbidden to drink a drop of alcohol.

As if it wasn't painful enough that he was going to be married to a complete stranger from some house he's never fucking heard of, he was erratic and uneasy the whole day because of the withdrawal. He loathes the preparation, the ceremony, the fucking pageantry of it all.

He thinks it was worse that you seemed to be so chipper the entire time. You smiled with a halo, skin shining with the light. You also seemingly did no wrong, judging by the praises you received from his mother and grandfather. But, who was he kidding, of course they fucking loved you, they chose you to be his prison keeper.

You did not press him once, not when you were preparing for the ceremony, not when you were at the feast, not even after the Queen encouraged you to dance.

Anyone with eyes could see from how he slumped on his chair during dinner that Aegon would rather die than circle around the room to this grating noise echoing in the chamber.

The band begins to play another song and another round of dancing ensues.

He stares at the food on the table. Oh, to be a suckling pig.

The relief that coursed through him when he could finally leave was enough to knock him out. Except, he really wanted, no, needed a drink.

He crashes on his bed, belly down, and reaches for the cabinet door on his bedside table. He feels for his bottle, hand knocking into the corners of the compartment, but he sits up when he finds nothing.

He growls in frustration upon realizing this was definitely his mother's doing. Thief!

"I managed a cup."

Aegon struggles to look over his shoulder from his position. He rolls on his back as you walk to the side of the bed.

He stares at you. You offer a glass holding burgundy liquid. Your voice is soft and kind as you explain, "your mother would suspect me if I took a whole bottle."

Aegon pushes himself up and sits on the edge of the bed, facing you. He gulps at the wine you were offering.

Sure, he may not be the brightest, but anyone could tell this scene was the epitome of ulterior motives. Aegon leans on his thighs, "why are you doing this?"

You stare a moment. You clutch the cup in both hands and examine it. Again, your voice is gentle, "you are clearly in torment. It hurts my heart."

His eye twitches.

I see. It seems you were a fucking saint.

Aegon rips the glass out of your hands, some of the wine spills over. He downs the contents in one go, then chucks the glass across the room once he finished.

He looks back at you, glaring with watery eyes. He was exhausted, he was angry, and he wanted you to know it. But you don't flinch at the sound of the glass breaking. You didn't flinch at all when he showed aggression. Why didn't you flinch?

You press your lips and sigh. You step towards him and reach out.

He nervously straightens up and tilts his head back as you approach. His breath hitches when your warm hand touches his cheek. He blinks rapidly.

"It's been a long day. Would you like me to help you change?"

Again, his eye twitches.

And then he realizes what you mean.

Ah. So, this is what you wanted?

He releases a breath, eyes lowering. Your face falls into a slight frown.

He thinks about it for a moment. I mean, sex was sex and he was game. It didn't matter how he performed, his completion was all that mattered, really. And you were pretty enough, albeit irritatingly good.

When you stroke his hair, Aegon pulls at your skirts, causing you to squeak and topple, hands flying to his shoulders for support. Your faces are inches apart. He pulls you down until you have no other choice than to sit on his lap.

You can smell the remnants of the wine he just drank on his breath. Aegon brings his face closer to yours, and you let out a soft 'hmp'. You mutter, "I gather you don't want to change, but want to get out of your clothes."

He narrows his eyes as you shift on his lap and undo the buttons by his chest. He mutters dumbly, "this is what you wanted."

With knit brows, you retort, "I've not yet told you what I wanted." You shift on his lap again as you peel his top off. Amidst it, he asks, "what do you want?"

You grunt after ridding him of his top. You fold it in your arms then set it aside on the bed. You turn back to him. Aegon's breath hitches when you fondle with strings of his undershirt. He watches your lips as you mumble, "I want you to give me a ride on your dragon."

He furrows his brows. But that's what he just said.

You stand, only to lift your skirt and take your place back on his lap. This time, you straddle him.

Aegon gulps, hands coming to your hips like a magnet. He feels you grind on him; shaky breaths leave his lips in response. His hands scratch up your back and a moan escapes him when your nails trace his collarbones.

"Allow me one trip on Sunfyre, and in return, I'll be your magic lamp," you whisper, taking one of his hands, bringing it to the side of your ribs, "you may rub me where you like-"

His heart skips when you kiss his cheek.

"-and I will grant you all your wishes."

Aegon ticks.

The next moment, he pushes you down on the bed. He doesn't bother getting either of you naked, nor does he prepare you at all in fact. Thankfully, you were already wet.

You don't have the opportunity to ask him to be gentle, to explain you were a bride after all, and it was your wedding night.

Aegon grips your skirts as he fucks you like he means to prove a point. He snaps his hips roughly into you to assert dominance, to exemplify control. Sure, you offered yourself to him, but he was the one doing the work, and you were the one beneath him.

In truth, the pace he set gave you more pain rather than pleasure. And with how pent up he was, the rough tempo he set burnt him out way too quickly before it could make any of you feel good. And when he begins to lag, you start to feel good.

You notice this change and rub your nose against his. He recoils, unused to affection when fucking. It snaps him back into an aggressive trance.

You yelp. Aegon convinced himself it was a sound of bliss.

You kiss his jaw and work your way to his ear, hoping to calm him down. He tenses at the feel of your tongue on his lobe. It stokes flames in his belly and makes him involuntarily roll his hips slower to focus on the attention you're giving. In return, his pace is just enough for him to hit that spot that makes you throw your head back.

Aegon is startled by the scratchy groan that leaves your throat. He finds himself lifting his head to spectate, but you pull him into you by the nape and groan, "like that. Please- gods - that feels good."

His brows tense and he rolls his hips again, finding the same reaction.

You wrap your arms and legs around him, uncaring of how hot and sweaty you were getting. In the heat of the moment, you reach for his lips, needing them, needing something to wrap your own on.

Aegon kisses you. He kisses you with a strange twinge in his chest. He kisses you until he has to pull away and reposition himself to catch his building climax.

In a second, he's back to his fuck-loving self, only self-serving and lustful. As he gazes upon your writhing body, catching the beads of sweat on your skin, the concentration on your face, and the way you chant his name as you part your legs for him, he's overcome by another spirit. To watch you break, to watch you coil and collapse around him felt just as urgent as his need to come.

And so Aegon rubs your clit and forces you to peak first; you do it so well he curses loudly and comes after.

He lays on top of you for a moment, the overwhelming need to be held ripples through his body. He recalls how his whores shoo him away after he's done fucking them though. Before you can cradle him in your arms, he rolls off you.

You close your legs and and watch him strip himself and sequentially change. You watch him get back in bed and bring himself underneath the covers. He goes to sleep.

He fucking goes to sleep.

You feel hollow after this, but tell yourself it's nothing personal. You repeat this as you, yourself, get up and change, sequentially sleeping too. Or at least you try. You have fight the urge to cry for hours before you do.

The next morning, you bring up dragon riding to Aegon, and disappointed as you are, you are unsurprised to find that he was unwilling to give you such a thing.

It was a plain thing you were asking for, you explain. And it's exactly why he doesn't want to do it. It's clearly some trick, something to trap him, something he's going to regret. It was probably some ploy orchestrated by his mother.

Oh gods, he thinks, it's worse. It's a bonding experience so you can make him into your puppet. Fuck. No.

So, he does what he does best, and makes an excuse, "I don't feel like riding today. I'm still exhausted from the festivities."

You purse your lips and nod, "that's understandable. Would you like for me to get you something?"

Wait. You weren't going to argue about him not keeping his end of the deal?

You seem to catch this, considering your response and the way you take his hand. You place his palm on your chest. He can feel your pulse quicken as you mutter, "I am your magic lamp, husband. I wish to please you. I will prove this until you trust me enough to grant me a ride on dragonback."

He narrows his eyes, "you would grant me wishes, all in return for a ride on Sunfyre?"

You smile softly at him, "in return for respite, yes."

He doesn't trust your smile.

"I want to visit the Grey Cliffs. I have for a years now. I went there once as a child and long to go again."

"Why?" he knits his brows at your explanation, "what's there?"

You lower his hand and rub his skin, "respite, my prince."

Aegon pulls his hand away.

Very well. If that is what you want, then he will wear your wishes dry until you find it no longer worth the trouble.

Aegon wishes on his lamp everyday, and his wife sequentially plays entertainer, jester, servant, and slave.

He makes you bring a bottle of wine with you everywhere, and pour him a cup when he wishes. He loathes how you seem unbothered by it. He loathes how you don't even correct a visiting Lord who mistakes you for a cupbearer and simply serve him some wine. The Lord is mortified when he realizes you are his wife, a fucking princess. Aegon hates how you tell the man you were unbothered because you spent your whole life being a cupbearer to your father anyway.

He makes you do trivial tasks as well, sometimes tasks meant for more than one person at a time, and yet you still manage to do them, annoyingly better than the maids. When he demanded you cook him a full course meal, you did so all by yourself, and had the servants looking at you like you were some goddess.

He ripped a hole in his clothes then made you mend it. You covered the hole so seamlessly that he poked a bigger one right in front of you. And even then you don't give him the satisfaction of getting angry. You tell him you will embroider something on top of the hole and he storms off. He overhears you telling the servants, who applaud your level-headedness, that you were used to angry men, because your father was just the same.

You use each of these moments to somehow tell him you were the perfect wife and he had to oblige your stupid request at some point.

But then he found your flaw.

Aegon asked you to play the harpsichord for him, and you told him you did not know how. The woman who knew all did not know something? He would then proceed to hang this over your head. When he asked you for food, he'd tell you how much better it'd taste if he had entertainment. If he asked you to do something physically taxing for him, he's say that he wouldn't have asked you to do it, had you known how to play his 'favorite' instrument. He would use this as the reason why he could never bring you to Grey Cliffs.

It was all fun and games, but then you had to snitch, hadn't you?

"What are you doing to that poor girl!" Queen Alicent barked, making his ears ring.

Aegon groans from where he lies in bed. His mother rips the blankets off him, making him wake in a sour mood.

"She is your wife!" Alicent yells, "not your slave! Fine, you wish her to do tasks for you, tasks for your betterment. But to insult her standing by treating her like a maid is beneath a prince, Aegon!"

Aegon feels his throat tighten at the sight of his angry mother's face, "she is my wife," he growls, "I do with her as I please."

She strikes his cheek.

Aegon's head whips to the side. He doesn't have the energy to look back at her.

"You will no longer parade her as a cupbearer. I will have it decreed you are not ever served a drop of wine if you don't."

Alicent leaves after this. Aegon's anger explodes when the door closes.

He screams and rips at his hair. He kicks furniture around and eventually drops to the floor, exhausted, furious, and hurt. This was all your fault.

He screams again and claws the tears on his face. He slowly exhales through tight lips. His cheek is hot with saltwater. Who was he joking, this was all him.

This was all Aegon's doing.

His breathing is impeded by snot. He walks over to his window and stares at the ground below. If he jumps head first, not even the best maester in Westeros could fix him.

Before he can lean on the ledge, he is paralyzed in his spot by the sound of the door opening.

"I did not know she would be angry with you," you say.

Aegon looks back.

You see his red eyes and wet skin. He is a mirror to your younger self. You feel sick to your stomach. You try to explain, "I only asked if she could find a harpsichord teacher. I did not realize she would take offense in wanting to learn to play for you."

Aegon's heart aches at your naïve response. You were a stupid, perfect wife, and he, a stupid, petulant husband.

"I'm better off dead," he mumbles, looking back out the window. The call of the fall felt inviting, "want to push me, wife?"

You don't respond.

Aegon looks back at you, and suddenly you're only inches away. He tries to evade you, but you manage to catch his hand.

"We could jump together."

"What?"

Your face is blank. You part your lips, and for a moment, your eyes seem desperate, but then it's gone. You sigh, "dying is quite lonely," looking down, "I could keep you company."

Aegon stares at you. Tears stream down his face. "You're mad," he sniffles, yanking his hand away.

He walks over to his bed and collapses on it. He wraps himself in a blanket and feels sorry for himself, and angry at you for suggesting such a thing. Even now you want to be perfect by dying with him?

"I am," you mutter.

Aegon watches as you walk over to him. You sit on the floor beside his bed and look at your hands as you rub them.

"I cannot play the harpsichord, because my father does not like noise," you explain, "I was not allowed to make a sound or else I would be punished."

Aegon covers his head with a blanket but keeps his face visible, "he beat you, didn't he?"

You look at him, eyes melancholy, but still, he is the only one crying, "he beat everyone."

Aegon does not respond.

"I can sing though."

His brow raises, "how can you sing?"

"I would practice whenever he was gone, and sing for my mother in secret. It made her happy... happy enough."

He knew there was more to this confession, but he was too tired to ask about it, too tired to shed more tears.

"Would you like me to sing for you?"

"No."

"..."

"..."

"Would you like me to hold you?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

You stand from where you sat and get on the edge of the bed. Aegon watches as you slowly lie beside him. You bring an arm over him and pull him close. Aegon closes his eyes as you bring him into your chest.

You hold him until he falls asleep. Later that night, he asks you to hold him again. He also asks you to sing to him.

Aegon nestles his face in the crook of your neck. He wraps his arms around your torso, digging his fingers between your flesh and the bed. Your hushed voice reverberates in the bedroom, the song you sing is haunting and soothing. The vibrations from your chest lull him to sleep. You feel wetness pool by your clavicle but you make no note of it.

Aegon asks you to hold him the next morning after breaking fast. He asks you to stay with him in bed and to sing to him some more. When you have to leave his side, he asks to join you and waits until he can have you in his arms again.

Aegon becomes your shadow, and follows you around, under the promise of getting to share in your embrace. As you read and review letters or ledgers, your seat becomes Aegon's lap. He sleeps against you while you work without a fuss, cheek pressed against your back, arms fastened around your waist.

Sometimes, he notices the line that forms between your brows while you read and at some point, asks about it. You explain what causes it, and he is unmoved, as he is uninterested in politics that stress you. But when you read out to him, he finds comfort in your voice and asks you to read some. He falls asleep to your calm droning of circumstances he could not care less about. He groans and groggily awakens when you stop. He mumbles against your skin that you continue, pleadingly so.

When you had to leave the Keep for business, Aegon insisted that he joined you. When you brushed his cheek and explained to him why he could not go and that you would not be long, Aegon pushed you away and stormed off. You left without him anyway, and the treachery he felt was so great, he realized then how he could no longer go day to day without you. What was there to do, if you were not there?

And so Aegon desperately rubs his magic lamp and wishes upon you.

He wishes that you never leave without him again once you return.

He wishes that you promise to no longer make plans without him.

He traps you beneath him on your shared bed and wishes to be inside you. He kisses you and wishes to see you completely bared to him.

Aegon's mind is dizzy as he gazes upon the glory of your skin. He kisses your thighs, your hips, your breast, your lips.

Aegon wishes to surrender to you. He wishes that you undress him. He wishes to pull you on his body like a blanket. He wishes to see you take control. He wishes to see you cast your eyes upon him and lay your weight on his body.

He wishes to see you use him, to take what you need from him, to pleasure yourself, and to make him yours. He squeezes your thighs desperately when you moan out his name. This was much more maddening that what he imagined it would be.

He wishes to feel you come undone around him. He wishes he could forever feel the pleasure he did when he comes right after you do.

He wishes to hold you after. And when he holds you, when you lay on his chest and kiss him there, he wishes to never leave this moment ever again. He wishes to sing to you like you've sung to him.

"What are your plans tomorrow," Aegon asks as he draws nothings on your back.

You lift your head from his chest. He looks at you. You smile, "whatever you wish them to be."

He rubs your back and smiles, "I wish to take you to the Grey Cliffs."

Your expression drops, "what?"

He raises a brow at your reaction. You shift on your place. You straddle him again.

He looks up at you, noticing the line between your brows. He rubs your thighs, "you've granted me all my wishes. It's time I grant you yours." He shifts on his elbows and sits himself up, "it's time you meet my mount and-"

"We don't have to," you cut him off, placing your hands on his shoulders.

Aegon examines your expression. He listens to you sigh.

"I'd like to keep you-- wish to keep you..." you correct yourself, pushing him back down.

He looks up at you, feeling your hands rake up his body.

"...just like this," you finish, eyes solemn, lips curving into a soft smile, "I've not felt a thing like this in my entire life."

Aegon takes one of your hands and places it on his cheek. He whispers it like a secret, "neither have I."

You lean down to kiss him, "I wish to keep like this."

He kisses you back.

He is blindsided by how his wishes came to bite him in the arse. It's all crashing down on him. Suddenly, he wishes he didn't actually do any of those things with you.

He most of all wishes he heard you wrong. He wishes you didn't repeat yourself when he stupidly said, "what?"

"I'm with child," you speak slower, less excited yet excited still.

Aegon wishes you didn't look so excited. He wishes he fucking pulled out, but gods, you felt so good-- you feel so good around him, he felt so good inside you.

He realized the next moment, it couldn't be helped. You were going to have to bear his spawn at one point or another. He wishes you didn't have to. He wishes his seed wouldn't take completely. He wishes you don't take it to term. He wishes he won't have to be a father. Fuck.

He realizes he's been too quiet and you were waiting for a response from him. Your face began to twist. Your smile fades.

"Congratulations," Aegon musters. He feels like he swallowed a metal ball. His eyes wander to your belly. He mumbles mindlessly, "I suppose."

Your face falls.

Aegon looks back at you. Your face is devoid of any semblance of the glow it normally holds. You look sick. You feel sick.

"I see," you say, unintentionally allowing him to hear your voice break. Aegon's brows furrow at it.

He shakes his head, "you will be a great mother," he chuckles dryly, "you mother me so well."

You offer him a smile, but Aegon can see how disconnected it was from your eyes. You say, "thank you."

When you leave him after this, he wishes he hadn't said a word. He wishes he just left it at congratulations. He wishes he just pretended like the idea of having a child didn't mortify him and make him sick to his stomach. He wishes he wasn't so ill-suited to be a father.

Ageon no longer wishes for anything after this.

He no longer wishes to hold you, though he so badly wanted to. He no longer wishes to hear you sing, nor does he wish to hear you read to him. He no longer wishes to be around you, though his body urged him to follow you around like the lost soul he was.

He wishes he didn't wonder what you were doing at every moment of the day. He so desperately wishes to rid you from his mind completely that he drowns himself in his first and only true love, alcohol.

Fuck. He wishes he hadn't taken this route to his room. He wishes you hadn't taken this route to wherever it was you were going. He wishes he just turned around and fled like the coward he was, because then, you wouldn't have spoken to him.

"Husband," you curtsey.

Aegon stiffens and uncomfortably avoids your eyes.

You catch it, feeling your chest tighten painfully. You clear your throat and take a deep breath to steel yourself, "I thought you should know that I will be travelling."

Aegon looks at you.

"I have a ship ready and I'll be visiting the Grey Cliffs. Do not wait up for me."

His face falls. He opens his mouth, but doesn't have an opportunity to speak.

"I thought you should also know that I am no longer carrying."

His eyes widen.

"It's not an uncommon occurrence the first few months," you say simply, "I suppose the gods do not wish me to be a mother."

Aegon feels like a murderer. He wants to say something, to apologize, to comfort you, but he can't. He's too taken aback to do a single thing.

He turns into stone when you take his hand. You step forward and place his palm on your chest. Your heart is slow as you speak, "you won't have to worry about anything anymore, Aegon. Today is the end of our shared torment."

Aegon's stomach drops when you kiss him.

His eyes are glassy. You pull away before he can kiss you back. He wants to hold you, but the sadness in your eyes reminds him he is undeserving. You kiss his wrist, "goodbye, my love. I love you."

His heart thumps as you walk away.

Aegon is manic. He basks in the mess he's made and feels crushed by it all.

He finally acts after wasting so much time feeling sorry for himself. You were long out of his sight by the time he started running. This is why he headed to the dragonpit and got on Sunfyre.

"WAIT!" he screams, just as your boat leaves the dock.

Aegon watches as you run to the edge of the boat. He lands Sunfyre and runs as far to the edge of the docks as he could.

"Aegon-"

"Take me with you!" he pleads, "let me be the one to take you to where you must go!"

You look back. The ship stops. The crew brings down a boat and on it, you are rowed back to the dock.

He crushes you in his arms once he reaches you.

"Aegon," you mutter.

"Forgive me," he shudders, "I... I wish you let me do this for you."

"Aegon," your voice croaks. You push him away, "go home."

His heart drops. He breaks away to look at you. Your words feel like a stab at his thorax. It was presumptuous of him to assume you'd want him back, but it doesn't kill him inside any less.

"I've come to realize this is a trip I must go on myself," you mutter.

He shakes his head, "no. Please." He motions an arm out to his mount, "one wish. That I grant you one wish before you throw me away forever is... is--"

Your throat constricts at his words. Tears rush down your eyes, "I'm not throwing you away--"

"Please," he squeezes both your hands in his, "please, let me do this for you."

The flight to the Grey Cliffs is quiet, save for the whoosh of winds and the roars of the golden dragon you both rode. You always imagined it would be freeing, but only now did you know how it freeing it truly felt to fly. You knew now you'd forever chase the euphoric crush of air against your skin.

Aegon, who sat behind you, looks at your form as you outstretch your arms and close your eyes. Your body presses against him, and in this moment, he is unable to hold back from wrapping an arm around you and sparing a kiss on your shoulder. You are snapped out of your trance because of this.

The Grey Cliffs are dark and gloomy when you get there. Aegon realizes when you land that it got its name from the weather conditions.

He helps you down and surveys the area, trying to make out which part of this drear land was so special to you that you wished to go here.

You catch his expression and squeeze his hand.

Aegon turns to you.

You give a solemn look, "the view is better on the edge."

Aegon strokes Sunfyre's cheek, commanding him to stay before you lead him by the hand to the edge of the cliff. Once you get there, he feels queasy looking down at the crashing waves far beneath him. In contrast, you seem comforted by the view. His brows furrow at the deep breath you give out.

When you look at him, his stomach feels it, the comfort you felt upon witnessing the violent waves. Whatever it was that compelled you to this place was the same force that compelled him to kiss you.

He reaches out for your cheek, his other hand coming to you back. He pulls you close. His heart twinges when you stop him from kissing you.

"Aegon-"

"Forgive me," he cuts, "I beg."

You gawk at him. He brushes your hair which was wildly flinging with the breeze.

"You must know by now that I am craven. I lack the spine and the wit to be of any use to you."

Your eyes water. Your lips quiver.

"I would be a hopeless father, worse than my own, no doubt."

"Aegon," you babble as sobs overtake you.

Aegon, himself, succumbs to tears. He wipes the ones streaming down your face before taking a breath, "but you made me feel a love I do not deserve."

You swallow a heavy lump in your throat.

"I love you," he confesses.

"No," you pierce his heart. You shake your head in disagreement, "Aegon, this is a mistake. Bringing you here was a mistake."

"No!" he blurts louder than needed, "this was a choice," he looks down, "I choose to rip my insides out for you to devour. I am miserable, much more in the heat of your hate, but most of all without you."

His downturned eyes land on your face when you grab his wrists. You croak, "I do not hate you."

Aegon is not relieved by the admission, but he chooses to believe you mean it. He smiles softly, "good."

"But I do hate this life I live."

He clenches his jaw. Of course you do.

"You saved me," you press a hand on his cheek, taking your turn to wipe his tears, "even if for a moment."

"I made you miserable."

You chuckle. The sound makes his heart skip.

"You filled my life with purpose," you smile softly, "even when you did not mean to."

Aegon knits his brows deeply and takes your hands. He brings them to his lips and kisses them.

"But accidents happen. You must remember that accidents happen all the time."

Aegon shakes his head, "this is not an accident. Believe me when I say I chose to do this, I- ... I choose to love you."

You sob and turn to your feet.

"Please... believe me."

You sniffle and nod, slowly looking up at him, "I believe you."

You lunge into his arms and seal him into a tight hug. He hugs you back like it's his only way of surviving.

A crack of thunder startles Sunfyre. He becomes restless and steals away Aegon's attention, panicked that he might flee and leave them here.

He pulls away and takes a step towards her. He holds your hand, urging you to follow, "we should go before it rains."

You hug him from behind and press your face into his back, "thank you for taking me on Sunfyre."

"It was a long time coming."

"I've always wondered what it would be like to fly. And now that I know how peaceful it is, I'm ready to fly one last time."

He turns to you as you slowly come to his side. You hold his hand. He looks at you as you turn to Sunfyre. He promises, "I will take you on dragonback as many times as you wish."

You smile, but your eyes are fixed on his dragon. You release his hand and wrap your arms around yourself, "he is beautiful. You must never tire looking at him."

Aegon gazes upon Sunfyre. He takes in his golden scales and has newfound appreciation.

You take a step back.

"He is. To be honest, it's been long since I, myself, took him out of the pit. He must enjoy this day as much as you do."

"Aegon, you must understand that what I have to say has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me."

Aegon turns to you. He watches you tighten your arms around yourself. You must be cold. He rubs your shoulders.

You shake your head and turn him back to his dragon, "look at Sunfyre."

He knits his brows, "I'm looking."

"For so long," you release him, "I've wanted to fly free, to find my peace here in the cliffs. This was before I even met you." You point at the golden dragon, "I choose to love you too, but accidents happen, like if Sunfyre were to fly away, and you were to be left here alone."

Aegon stares at his ride for a moment as you lower your hand. He tries to makes sense of your words, but he cannot for the life of him understand.

He sighs, "what accident? Why do you keep-"

Aegon is flooded by confusion when he turns and finds you nowhere behind him. A split second later, he lets a horrified scream and the fear that claws into him makes his knees buckle. He crumbles to the ground and crawls to the edge of the cliff. He screams so loud that Sunfyre roars back and comes towards him.

Aegon watches as the red seafoam bubbles at the foot of the cliff. He watches as the crimson waves slowly slosh back into its original tint.

Rain begins to pour, and his tears taste no longer salty.

Was this the flying you ached for? Was this the relief you sought?

When he returns to King's Landing, dripping wet, he breaks down in front of his mother, weeping as he clutched his skirts.

Queen Alicent is obviously disturbed. She instructs her servants to get his son a change of clothes and some towels. She looks down at him, "what's happened? What's wrong, Aegon?"

"An accident-" he barely manages to say, "there's been an accident."

"An accident?!"

Aegon's mind goes blank. A bitter taste

You don't know what you have until it's gone.

[svmjaeyvn]

hidden love, l.hs

synopsis: there were two things that park jongseong reiterated to you growing up.

1: he was the better, funnier, smarter, awesomer sibling and always would be, and 2: you were to never, ever, fall for any guys like his friends, literally and figuratively.

the first was a lie, one you always rolled your eyes at and the second was something 12-year-old you always agreed to without hesitation. but with time, they soon both became a fib from your lips, 14-year-old you coming to the disastrous realization that boys weren't as icky as you once thought and your older brother's best friend had the prettiest smile (when he wasn't being annoying.) as you continued to grow older, those fluttering emotions grew as well, even with him heading off to university it seemed to leave you with a sense of longing, happier than ever when he'd visit.

until you were 16 and he came home with a girl, one that was far prettier than you were able to compete with in your head and nice enough to be a saint. your hopeless, devastating one-sided crush was forced to be swallowed without much pride, though it held no avail until you dramatically decided to never speak to heeseung again. and it worked, ignoring all his calls and texts, avoiding your family home like the plague whenever your brother was home for break if he was visiting, and simply acting entirely clueless in the unfortunate circumstances that you did end up caught by him, chalking it up to dramatic teenage hormones.

once you reached the age of it being your turn to head to college, you signed up for every exchange program possible, leaving you traveling the world for three years that passed with no contact and your once-upon-a-time crush nearly forgotten. that was until you came back home, finally settling to finish uni and all of a sudden you were a kid again, fawning over your brother's best friend who didn't know how to leave you alone. this time though, heeseung didn't see you as that annoying kid who followed jay around, he saw you for you which scared him so much more with how you've grown and nothing was worse than him feeling something for his best friend's off-limits little sister.

featuring: lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon, nishimura riki, kim sunoo, yang jungwon, hanni pham, kim chaweon, yoon keeho, yoon yechan

status: writing. start: 03/30/24. end: tba.

genre: non-idol!au, college/young adult!enha, heeseung x reader, slight age gap (4 years), brothers best friend trope

content & warnings: age gap??? (slightly questionable morality but no romantic feelings or grooming since they end up with no contact for years until adulthood), cursing, drinking, all that jazz, innuendos, sexual humor, suggestive content, possible smut, forbidden relationship, sneaking around, overprotective jay, jay tries to fight heeseung cause duh, crazy exs, stalker mention, slow burn since they're both in denial, heeseung kind of toxic mentality which is forced to be fix, angst but fluffy ending (?)

a/n: based off the cdrama. watched it months ago but shit had me giggling and kicking my feet even if it's cliche. heeseung is so forbbidden older love coded i had to. im trying to make this a oneshot so well see how long it is,,,,,,, the plot will develop from when they were kids to adulthood to provide some background. once the actual romance starts heeseung will be 24 and reader will be 20 (the year will be 2025). all my drafts and writing has been about jake so im branching out (i love my man tho so he'll have his moments here). anyway! lets see how long it takes me to finish up this one

word count: 6k (as of now)

taglist: closed! (86 of you have responded omg)

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Drunk on You

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: After losing a bet, Frank's drunk night turns into a nightmare when he accidentally leaves a VERY honest voicemail on your phone. (Prompt: "I need to see your phone.")

warnings: swearing, excessive drinking (do NOT do this.), Frank being affectionate

a/n: This wasn't requested by anyone, I just saw this prompt and immediately pictured Frank freaking out about a voicemail he left on someone's phone. A huge shout out to @gracethyomen and @madschiavelique who I forced into beta-ing this for me multiple times. As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. Thank you!

w/c: 6k (Yah, i know. I got carried away.)

Frank liked to think that he was decently romantic—so it was almost embarrassing that your relationship happened by accident. 

He didn’t possess a natural charm, like the one that Red always flaunted, but he could usually hold his own when he found someone attractive. Before…everything, his cocky attitude and unjustified youthful arrogance helped him flirt with Maria. Since the loss of his family, flirting was more of a pastime. Until you. 

From the moment you both met, Frank had known that you were different—that you were never meant to be a casual fling. It terrified him, at first, but after many many lectures from Curtis, he was ready to try a relationship again. 

Despite that fact, he could never seem to get the words out. 

Flirting with you was as easy as pulling a trigger, but being honest and open about his feelings? Never his strong suit. He was just thankful that Curtis believed in boundaries and David was oblivious, otherwise you would’ve gotten the news through the grapevine weeks before he blurted it out. 

It all started when David scolded him.

“Language, Castle. This is a family establishment.” His stern tone was completed with a pointed finger.

The two men were seated on opposite sides of the Lieberman’s sturdy dining room table, on the precipice of one of their classic “Family Dinner Spats”–a term Curtis had coined exasperatedly a few weekly meals ago. You, Sarah, and Curt were also currently at the table, nursing your wine while the kids played video games in the living room.

Smirking at David's tone, you raised a brow at the curly haired man. “Can you really call your suburban house an ‘establishment’?”

Frank chuckled at your attempt to defend him, his lips parting around the lip of his beer bottle in a smug smile.

“The house has been established, and there is a family present.” David snapped at you with a no-nonsense look. Looking at his wife incredulously, he threw his hands in a vague gesture. “C’mon Sarah, back me up!”

Sarah shrugged at him, grinning at his defeated groan. Shooting you and Frank a knowing look, she murmured, “We’ve all heard worse.“

Desperate for someone to agree with him, David glanced across the table pleadingly. “Curtis? C’mon man.”

Sighing, Curtis nodded, his lips twitching in a tiny smile. “You do have a foul mouth, Frank. There are children present.”

Frank scoffed, gesturing widely to the two teenagers in the other room.

Crinkling your nose as you stifled a laugh, you nodded solemnly. “They sort of have a point, Frank. Your vocabulary could make a sailor blush.”

Finally vindicated, David crowed, “You practically only speak in curses and grunts!”

The marine gaped. “Christ, I am not that bad.”

Smelling a game, David’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Oh yah? I bet you couldn’t go a week without swearing.

Sarah and Curtis took the vague challenge, and Frank’s responding bitter laugh, as their cue to leave the table, murmuring about cleaning up after dinner and chuckling to each other as they left. You, unfortunately, were far too intrigued to remove yourself from the conversation.

Good thing you were entertained, because David was far from finished with his accusations. “You know what? I don’t think you could even last a single day without that sinfully filthy language of yours, Castle.”

Frank rolled his eyes, but his jaw was tense. “Ya gonna make me a swear jar, Lieberman? What are you, my ma?”

David shrugged, pleased at how easily he was able to get under the hulking man’s skin. “Someone has to teach you some manners.”

You tapped a finger on your chin, meeting David’s roguish gaze. “He’s right though, a swear jar would never compel him to change.”

David crossed his arms. “And you have a better suggestion?”

Frank glanced at you, brow raised in curiosity, lips pursed.

You grinned manically. “Maybe a drinking game? Every curse word he says within 24 hours means he takes a shot.”

The technician erupted in bellowing laughter. “YES!”

Ignoring him, Frank smirked at you. “Tryin’ to get me drunk, sweetheart?”

You placed a hand over your heart in mock surprise. “Don’t tell me you’re chicken, Frankie.”

The large man bristled, straightening his posture as he shook his head. “Course not.”

David was glowing. “So you accept?”

“Uh—“ Frank’s hesitation was quickly settled by your adorable expression, your head tilted at him as you anticipated his next move. “Fuck, I guess.”

Practically screeching, David pointed a finger at the man, looking at you excitedly. “Oh my god, that counts right? That totally counts!”

Laughing as David practically began a victory dance, you raised your glass of wine. ”Let the game begin!”

What had he gotten himself into?

Unfortunately for his liver, the next 24 hours did not get easier.

With the combined efforts of you, Curtis, David, and the various CCTV systems of New York city, the tally landed at 52 curses in 24 hours.

“Holy shit, Frank,” You gaped at the final count, turning to him with wide eyes. “Were you even trying?”

Frank glowered, sinking further into the booth next to you. “Yes.”

“Well, we’re gonna need to change these rules a bit. Otherwise, you’ll need a transplant by next week.” You frowned, eyes glowing with the light of David’s computer screen.

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft now, doll.” Frank muttered, the corner of his lips lifting up against his will.

“I’m always soft on you, tough guy.”Your words were earnest, causing Frank's throat to constrict. You raised a hand to pinch his cheek, seemingly unperturbed by his furious blush.

As if knowing he was ruining the moment, David returned to the table with a tray of half a dozen shot glasses. “Who’s ready to get wasted?”

Groaning, Frank dropped his head into his hands—his stomach already churning.

“New rules:” You announced, “No more than 7 drinks an hour.”

“Woah woah woah, who died and made you referee?” David scoffed.

“Everyone who has ever taken 52 shots in one night.” You retorted, refusing to change your mind.

While David began placing a row of tiny glasses in front of him, you took one of Frank's calloused hands in your much more delicate one. He raised his head to meet your serious gaze. “Hey, you do not have to do this. It was a stupid bet.” You were chewing on your bottom lip, his hand itched to cup your face and smooth the furrow in your brow.

“Um, he does so have to do this! I already put my card down. Drink up, asshole!” As David shoved the alcohol towards him, your arm shot out, acting as a barricade.

Looking at him with an inquisitive concern, you stroked your thumb over his knuckles. With a sigh, Frank grasped one of the shots between two fingers, downing it with a grimace.

David cheered. “Thattaboy! Drink up!!”

Biting your lip, you slid a single shot towards yourself and one to David. “If he’s going to do this, he’s not doing it alone. Drink up, Lieberman.” You teased, parroting his words before downing your own shot with a grace that was shocking and incredibly attractive. 

“Damn, that’s smooth. You shelled out for us.” You snorted, setting the shit glass back on the sticky table. 

Pouting at the tiny cup of clear liquid, David groaned. “I haven’t had tequila since college.”

“Sounds like you made a poor choice of beverage then. Drink!” You grinned at him, face warming as Frank slid an arm around your shoulders.

“She’s gotta point, Lieberman. You’ve dug your own grave. I ain’t drinkin’ another drop until you take that.” Frank smirked, eyes dancing with a mirth that you’d been missing.

“C’mon David!” You encouraged, the curly-haired man across from you finally nodding and downing the drink with a gag.

You and Frank cheered, laughing as he coughed in the aftermath.

“Alright, it’s gone. Your turn.” David nodded to the three remaining shots, crossing his arms impatiently.

Huffing out a breath, Frank tossed all three back, chasing the acrid taste with a swig of the beer he’d purchased himself without thinking. “There, ya fuckin’ happy now?”

“Thrilled.” David laughed. “We’re going to wait…15 minutes, and then I’m going to hustle you in pool.” Setting a timer on his watch, the engineer missed Frank’s exaggerated eye roll.

“Doesn’t a hustle require one party to not know they’re being hustled?” You asked, settling into Frank’s side with a smile.

“I could kick your ass with my eyes closed, Lieberman.” Frank snorted.

“Oh please, it's all geometry–I'm a whiz at geometry.”

Listening to them bicker, you couldn't help but smile. Sipping your beer, you crossed your legs, excited for the upcoming show.

As Frank's inhibitions grew steadily lower, you were joined at the booth by Curtis and Karen–both of whom were humored by the giant man's state, but not free of their own worry.

“Y’all trying to kill him?” Curtis chuckled, eyes focused on Frank's uncharacteristically wide grin as he slid into the booth across from you, beer in hand.

“Trust me, I’ve been negotiating Lieberman down all night to spare his intestines.” You huffed, your own gaze fixated on Frank as he lined up his next shot at the pool table, muscles bulging against his tight shirt as he bent over.

“See something you like?” Karen asked gleefully, lips curled in a smirk.

“Shut up,” You hissed, squirming in your seat as your body was hit with a flash of warmth.

“He's not making this easy for you, is he?” Curtis chuckled, sending Karen a knowing look.

“Does he always get so…touchy when he’s drunk?” You asked quietly, trying not to salivate as you got a perfect view of Frank's ass, his back turned towards you as he played his next turn.

Letting out a bark of laughter, Curtis shook his head at you.

“Oh stop it,” You groused, ignoring your friends' giggles as you slid off of the vinyl bench and made straight for the bar.

“Um whiskey. Neat, please.” You stammered out your order to the bartender, trying not to cringe at how disjointed the words sounded. Your mind was entirely preoccupied by the feelings you harbored for the man currently guffawing behind you. The scraping of glass on wood startled you out of your daydream.

Taking the glass from the bartender, trying not to meet their gaze as they eyed you suspiciously, you nodded a thank you.

Before you could return to your seat, a thick arm wrapped around your shoulders--a sensation that would've been horrifying had it not been accompanied by a familiar voice.

“When did ya start drinkin’ whiskey?” Frank's deep rasp ignited a heat deep in your gut, stealing the words straight off your tongue.

”I-I, uh didn't,“ You squeaked out, shoving the glass to Frank's chest. “I figured you’d want something other than mid-shelf tequila.” Looking up at him through thick lashes, your breath caught in your throat as you met his stare.

Frank's lips were tilted in a small smile, the tension he normally carried in his jaw nowhere to be found. His cheeks were flushed, his hair mussed from running his hands through it throughout the night. Boring into you, his beautiful ochre eyes crinkled with a happiness you rarely saw from the man.

A rough knuckle tipped your jaw upwards, shutting your mouth, which had apparently been hanging open as you admired the figure before you. “Somethin' on my face, sweetheart?”

Tilting his head, his eyes twinkled, his smile growing wider as you remained silent. “No, Frankie.”

“Good. C'mon, I need someone to cheer for me when I whup Lieberman's ass for a third time.” Frank snorted, pressing a kiss to your crown before taking your hand and dragging you towards the pool table.

The rest of the night flew by, a symptom of the intense focus you held on Frank's relaxed drunken nature. He'd been tipsy with you before, so you'd caught glimpses of this behavior from the man previously, but it would always catch you off guard to see him so...easygoing.

It wasn't that Frank wasn't affectionate, he was incredibly sweet, he just wasn't usually so forthcoming with his emotions. Nor was he normally content snuggling with you in public.

Rubbing his nose against your hair, Frank gave a sleepy hum before pulling back to down the rest of the ice water you'd forced into his grasp. His hand was gently gripping your waist, thumb tracing lines over your hip as your friends chatted. Frank was much too tired to be paying any attention, and your ability to retain any conversation topic flew out the window the moment his hand landed on your side.

Watching as his free hand lifted to clumsily scrub at his face, you frowned. “Wanna call it a night, Frank? You look ready to drop.”

“'M fine.” He grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. Shit, you'd hoped the water would stave off the impending headache for now.

“The kid's right.” David remarked, smirking at your offended scoff. “If I'm beat, you must be half dead. I'll go close the tab."

"Can the rest of you make it home ok if I handle this one?" You asked, kneading at Frank's neck as he dropped his head to your shoulder with a grumpy huff.

"Yah, we can get David home in one piece." Karen promised, squeezing Frank's arm as she passed. "Goodnight."

"Ok, tough guy. You gotta get out so I can get out," You murmured, nudging the marine as carefully as possible.

Grumbling under his breath, he slid out of the booth, grabbing the table as he listed sideways.

"Christ, Frankie. Hold on, I gotcha." You grunted as he leaned against you, his weight shifting you off balance. Wrapping an arm around his waist in a motion similar to the one he'd made mere minutes ago, you shuffled towards the door. "Ok, Castle, you gotta work with me a little bit here."

As the two of you neared the exit, you heard an indignant squawk from the bar. "I OWE HOW MUCH??"

Chuckling softly, Frank's skull knocked against yours. "We'd better get outta here, sweetheart."

The two of you made it back to Frank's tiny apartment without incident, though the man was stumbling all the way. When you reached his front door, he snatched his keys from his pocket, tossing them at you without a word. 

Not expecting the projectile, the ring of keys hit you square in the chest, your chin following them as they crashed to the grimy carpet underneath your feet. Looking at Frank with narrowed eyes, you raised an eyebrow. “Was that really necessary?”

Frank chuckled quietly, his laugh as close to a giggle as it would probably ever get. His half-lidded eyes creased as he grinned at you. “Sorry,” The apology was undercut by the shit-eating expression on his face. 

“Drag your ass all the way home, breaking my back doing so–mind you,” You complained halfheartedly, your chest swelling with fondness as Frank’s raspy laughs continued. “And you just throw your shit at me.” 

Shaking your head, you let your smile betray you as he kissed your forehead. “You’re unbelievable, Castle.” 

“Thanks for puttin’ up with me.” His stubble scratched your skin as he spoke, his lips still resting against your temple. 

“Anytime, big guy.” Your eyes fell closed as his hand rubbed over your lower back.

After a minute, Frank spoke again. “Are ya gonna open the door, or am I gonna have to sleep in the hallway?” 

“Jesus Christ.” You groused, breaking out of his hold to squat down and grab his keys.

Just like that, Frank was back in stitches, shifting his weight to the door frame as his body shook with near silent laughter.

Shoving the key in the lock, you opened the door and shoved at him gently. "Get in there, goofball."

Shuffling inside, Frank beelined for the couch, collapsing onto it with his boots still on. Rolling your eyes, you followed him in, crouching by his feet to start unlacing his shoes.

Wriggling on his stomach, he craned his neck to look at you. “Whattya doin'?”

“Taking your shoes off, Frankie.” You explained without stopping your actions.

Grumbling, he flapped an arm at you clumsily. “Leave 'em.”

Huffing with exasperated affection, you ignored him. "You'll be more comfortable if I take them off, Frank."

You received a disgruntled noise in response, but his arm stopped moving. Face squashed against a throw pillow, his eyes were closed and his pink lips were parted--soft breaths slipping in and out of them every so often.

Finally pulling his second boot off, you sat back on your heels with a satisfied sigh. Standing as quietly as you could, you strode to the tidy kitchen.

Given that you were well-acquainted with Frank's place, you moved around the apartment with ease, finding the sparse first aid kit that he possessed and making a mental note to bring some supplies by soon. Sure, Frank would manage—he was the most capable man you'd ever met—but you wanted to make his life easier in any way you could.

Which is why you grabbed a few individually wrapped pain pills and placed them on the coffee table, along with a glass of water. Now for the difficult part.

"Frank, I know you're comfy like this but you have to turn to your side for me." You spoke softly, running a hand up his arm and pushing in the direction he needed to turn.

"Hngh..." Frank protested sleepily. "Why?"

Stifling a smile at the grumpy face he made, you continued to push. "C'mon, you big baby. On your side, so you don't choke and die overnight."

Huffing frustratedly, Frank flopped onto his side, glaring at you.

“Thank you. Do you need a blanket?” You asked, laughing indignantly when he flipped you off. “That was an actual question, asshole.”

Standing up, you took a step towards the worn armchair on the other side of the coffee table, nearly tumbling over when a force tugged on your wrist. Eyes closed again, Frank was poorly hiding a smile as he yanked your arm towards him with more strength than his inebriated self should have been capable of. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you feeling nice now?” You grumbled, balancing your weight over him precariously as you tried to escape his hold.

Tugging your arm again, Frank muttered a jumble of grouchy nonsense.

“Christ, Frank.” You snorted, rolling your eyes to the ceiling before sliding your palms underneath his shoulders to shift him over. Squishing onto the couch next to his head, you found yourself smiling as he wriggled towards you, settling his head into your lap with a relieved exhale. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a piece of work when you’re drunk?”

Your murmur was more for yourself than for him, but he responded nonetheless. “M’ria.”

It was far from the first time he’d spoken to you about his late wife, but hearing her name fall from his lips when he was in such a vulnerable state felt like a swift punch to the gut. Regaining your composure, you threaded your fingers into his hair. “Go to sleep, Frankie.”

As your nails softly scratched at his scalp, darkness crept into the corners of his vision, his eyes fluttering closed again.

The next few hours passed like fractions of a dream. A warm pliant surface beneath his cheek, a cool hand running through his hair. A whispered conversation and hushed groans. A loss of contact.

Somewhere in the haze of alcohol-induced fatigue, Curtis appeared, taking over your role as his babysitter. Curt was good at taking care of him...he was a lot less pretty than you were, though.

“Christ, I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that.” Curtis griped, insulted by comment Frank hadn't intended to share, shoving a bottle of some form of sports drink at him. “Drink this.”

Scowling, Frank took a long swig. As he was gulping down the sugary liquid, his eyes locked on a piece of fabric draped over the back of the couch. Setting the drink down, and nearly spilling it all over himself in the process, he grabbed clumsily for the coat, clutching it to his chest when his fingers finally landed around it. ”She forgot it.“

”What?“ Curtis, rubbing a knuckle between his brows, looked unamused.

”Her coat, Curt.“ Frank whispered, holding it out to show the other man. ”We gotta find her. She forgot it. It's winter.“

Shaking his head with a huff, Curtis dropped his head into his hands. ”I'm sure she'll be fine without it for a night. Go to sleep, Frank.“

Frank frowned, still focused on the piece of plastic in his hands.

Grappling his pocket, he eventually pulled out his phone and flipped it open, squinting at the bright screen as it powered on. Scrolling through the list of contacts, he found the one he wanted and dialed.

”Frank,“ Curtis sighed, but didn't stop him from calling you.

Receiving your voicemail, Frank groaned. “Sweetheart, you better not be frozen to death out there somewhere. You left your coat here. You gotta come and get it, ok? I don't want you to be cold.”

”Hang up and sleep, Castle.“ Called the medic from Frank's bedroom. When had he gone in there?

Ignoring his friend's explicit instructions, Frank sighed. “Please come back. I like having you here. You just...you take such good care of me, and I really don't deserve it, but you do it anyways, and--” The phone was snatched out of his hand.

“Frank says goodnight.” Curtis snapped into the phone before ending the call.

“Hey!” Frank glowered, fumbling for Curtis's hand to take the device back.

“Go to sleep, Frank. You can talk to her tomorrow. Trust me, you'll be grateful I took this away when you've sobered up. You don't need to be spilling your secrets to her over voicemail.“ Spreading a blanket over Frank, Curtis glared at him. ”Close your eyes, Marine. I am not playing games with you tonight.“

Rolling to his other side so that Curtis couldn't see him, he smirked at the other man's final snort. ”Real mature, Frank. I'm taking your bed. I'll be out to check on you every once in a while.“

As Curtis retreated into the other room, Frank waited impatiently, staring at the back of the couch until he heard a door close. Grinning in satisfaction, he withdrew his burner phone from his other pocket, opening it up and inputting your number.

“Sorry, Curt hung up the phone. I wasn't done talking to ya. I like talkin' to ya, it makes me feel...god, I'm bad at this. I dunno, sweetheart, you make me feel good...special. I haven't felt that way in a long damn time. But you just make it seem so easy. You make everything seem so easy...”

The intense rolling of his stomach is what ruptured his unconsciousness, igniting a spark of adrenaline powerful enough to carry him to the bathroom so he could collapse in front of the toilet.

God, he felt fucking awful. His head was pulsing with the beginnings of a migraine, his throat burned with acid as he emptied his stomach repeatedly. Moaning with regret, he slapped the lever to flush the toilet, sinking back against the cool porcelain of the bathtub behind him.

“Was wondering when that would happen. David owes me 20 bucks.” Curtis leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom with his arms crossed, smirking at Frank's evident misery.

“Glad I could help.” Frank muttered, digging the heel of his hand into one of his eyes in an attempt to offset some of the building pressure in his skull.

“You look like shit.” Curtis chuckled, passing him a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers.

“Fuck off.” Frank grumbled, rinsing out his mouth before throwing back a few pills.

“Well, clearly you're feeling more like yourself. Christ.” Curtis snorted.

“God, Curt, what happened last night?” Frank grimaced. 

“Besides you drinking enough to kill a racehorse? Not much. Unless you count me discovering your collection of burner phones as ‘interesting’.”

Curtis’s words were innocuous, but Frank felt a wave of dread crash over him at the implications. 

“What collection?“ He asked mournfully, hoping fiercely that Curt didn’t mean–

“The one you were using to call your girl.” Fuck. “Every time I turned around, there was a new phone in your hands. Can't say I didn't try to stop you from making an ass of yourself, you just managed to do it anyway.”

“Fuck!” Frank cursed. That was exactly what he was hoping to avoid. “Please tell me you're jokin'.”

“Unfortunately not, Frank.“ The other man laughed, but his brow pinched in sympathy. “You're gonna have some explaining to do, I expect.”

“Fuck me. What did I say?” He looked to his friend pleadingly, feeling like his impending doom was perched just over his shoulders.

“I didn't catch all of it, but the parts I heard were pretty damning.” Curtis rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Frank’s intense eyes.

Mustering the dwindling energy he had, Frank lurched to his feet, stumbling towards the door. Thankfully, Curtis caught him when his balance faltered after a few steps.

“Woah, shit, Frank! Where are you goin'?” Curtis chastised preemptively, letting Frank lean against him as he ambled to the foyer.

“To apologize, or delete that message. Whatever needs to be done.” Frank’s jaw was stiff, his voice gruff with fear and discomfort. Undraping his arm from Curt’s shoulders, Frank bent down to grab his boots, halting as the motion caused a spike of pain to shoot through his brain. Clenching his fingers around his thighs, he bit his tongue to keep from hurling again.

“Jesus, Frank. This isn't a goddamn military operation.” Curt scoffed, kicking Frank’s shoes closer to him with a grunt.

Frank huffed a bitter laugh. “You're right, that would be easier.” Squatting down, Frank shoved his boots on and laced them up.

“You need serious help, you know that?” Curtis sighed, only waiting a moment before slipping his own shoes on. “C'mon. I'll drive you.”

Tipping your chin up, you let the final dregs of your latte trickle across your tongue, silently begging for those few drops to contain the caffeine you'd need for the rest of the day. You were practically giddy with lack of sleep and the immense amount of sugar you'd dumped into the coffee to make it palatable–you weren't used to so many extra espresso shots.

After looking out for Frank at the bar, wrangling him on the journey home, leaving abruptly to accompany your distraught roommate and her accident-prone boyfriend to the hospital, and then staying with said roommate all night while her boyfriend got a cast put over his broken arm–you were understandably exhausted. And, if you were honest with yourself, a bit aggravated that you'd been ripped away from Frank when he was so unusually receptive to your affection.

It wasn't as if you could just call Curtis and ask to switch roles again, it was almost noon. Frank would probably be up and hungover by now–far grouchier than the cuddly lump he'd become last night when he passed out on your lap. No use to mourn that loss any further, you supposed. It wouldn't be that hard to make him agree to another bet, after all. 

Lounging on the couch, your eyes slipped shut for a moment, flying open in shock when you heard a knock at the door. Of course someone would show up right after you sat down. Inhaling deeply to keep from groaning, you dragged yourself off of the couch and to the door. Huh, speak of the devil.

Unlatching the door, you rested a hand on your hip as you took in the posture of the man before you. Frank looked awful, a perfect example of the saying “green around the gills”. He was slouched forward, barely meeting your gaze, and his complexion was so alarmingly pale that it was more translucent. Before you could ask what the hell he was doing on your doorstep, he spoke.

“I need to see your phone.” His tone was pained and especially gravelly, which made sense given how hungover he must be right now.

“Damn, Castle. Hello to you too.” You laughed, the humor of it not fully reaching your eyes as concern churned in your gut. Stepping out of the way, you allowed him to stride past you into the apartment. 

Looking over his shoulder at you sheepishly, he cringed. “Sorry, hi. Your phone?”

Well he’s clearly on a mission. You had to admit, you were curious what he was so riled up about. 

Your eyes narrowing, you gestured to where it sat on the counter, anchored by its designated cord. “It's charging. It died while I was running around last night and I just got home, so.” Frowning in confusion, you picked it up to show him. 

“Thank god.” Frank let his face fall into his palms, collapsing onto your couch. 

“Why do you need my phone, Frank?” Intrigue still piqued, you flicked a thumb across the screen to activate your phone.

Realizing he’d made a fatal error in his anguished haze, Frank swiveling in his seat, craning his neck just in time to see a massive grin break out across your face. “Shit wait–”

“Jesus Frank, are you ok? Why did you call me so many times?” You laughed, scrolling through the myriad of notifications you’d apparently missed from him. 

“Sweetheart I'm begging you–” Standing on his wobbly legs, he hurried to remove the device from your hands, but it was too late.

“You left multiple voicemails?” You looked at him with an almost pompous smile, clearly taking satisfaction in his downfall.

“Please don’t–” He made for your phone, but his reflexes were lacking. Spinning just out of his reach, you raised the phone above your head victoriously.

“Voicemail number one!” You announced proudly, pressing play on the recording. 

Frank’s voice sounded tinny through the small speakers, or maybe it was just being drowned out by the ringing in his ears. “You forgot your coat…”

“Aw, Frank, that's so sweet!” You spoke over the short message, your lip sticking out slightly as you looked at him with gratitude.

Stepping towards you with his palms displayed, he tried for a placating tone. “Yup. That was all, no need to listen to any more of–”

“Voicemail number 2!” You crowed, darting out of the kitchen as he grabbed wildly for the offending phone once more. 

“Sorry, Curt hung up the phone...”

“This ain't funny.” Frank growled, scurrying after you into the living room “Turn those off!” 

“You left them for me!” You giggled, holding the phone to your ear and squealing with delight at his first confession.

“You make everything seem so easy–”

“Aw, Frank–”

“It's so hard for me to focus when you're around–”

By the grace of some higher power, his drunk rambling cut off. Nearly keeling over, he leaned heavily against the back of your couch. “Thank Christ.”

“VOICEMAIL NUMBER 3!” You said gleefully, practically dancing with joy as Frank resumed chasing you.

“Goddamn it.” He muttered. He should have known he wasn’t that lucky.

“I can't stop thinkin' about ya–”

His words were coming back to him now, and it was crystal clear that he had very limited time to retrieve the phone before your relationship with him was irreparably damaged. Nearly bowling your coffee table over, he managed to snatch the hem of your sweatshirt, but you simply slipped out of it and resumed your lap of the space. 

“I can never stop thinkin about ya–”

You leapt onto the couch and over the arm, making for your bedroom. How on earth were you this agile after last night? He was pretty sure this would be the last thing he ever did. 

“I hope you made it home safe–”

You stumbled around your bed frame and Frank saw an opening. 

“You shoulda stayed here with me–”

His eyes narrowed, vision tunneling like a predator’s. Frank bounded forward and your eyes widened as you realized he had you cornered.

“I'll always keep you safe–”

Finally, he arrived within the distance he needed, snatching you by the waist and spinning you into him. Your chests were pressed together, quivering with the force of labored breaths, but before he could hit the power button– 

“Cause, I dunno, I just love ya, sweetheart. I'd never let anythin' happen to ya.”

His world blurred, his heart pounding so aggressively it felt like it was creeping out of his rib cage. It was done. It was over.

Panting, you looked up at him with a furrowed brow. His heart sank as he watched the realization crawl across your face. 

“You...you love me?” You asked meekly as Frank took a step away from you.

His entire body felt like it was on fire, he couldn’t decide whether he needed to scream or be sick. An apology roosted on his tongue, but his mouth was too dry for the words to come out.

“You love me.” You murmured, looking at the phone as if it would explain his words for you.

“I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinkin'–” He choked out, scrambling backwards sloppily so that he wouldn’t witness your pity.

“Frank–” You spoke softly, the sympathetic edge to your words cutting his composure like a blade.

“Christ, I'll just go, I'm sorry–” He whispered, his throat tightening with immense regret.

“Frank” Your fingers suddenly wrapped around his wrist, turning him back to face you. He inhaled deeply, bracing himself for the rejection and subsequent loss of connection that he’d stupidly caused. But it never came. 

Instead, your free hand cupped his neck, pulling his lips to meet yours. His knees wavered, nearly giving out as your soft lips met his. He was bombarded with surprise and affection and relief. Pulling back from him, you rubbed a finger over his nape and smiled softly.

“I love you too.”

“You–” He was too shocked to even ask a full question. His knees finally gave out and he fell against you. 

“Woah, careful there, tough guy.” You chuckled, nudging him backwards so that he crumbled onto your mattress instead of taking you both to the ground. 

Listing sideways onto your mattress, he let you prod at his limbs until he was fully seated. Bile was swiftly rising in his throat, but whether it was from the chase or the resulting emotions, he was unsure. Swallowing roughly, he grimaced. 

Biting your lip, you let go of his wrist to stroke your blissfully cool fingers along his cheek. “Let me get you some water, ok? I’ll be right back.”

Eyes falling closed, Frank took a handful of measured breaths, lips twitching with a small smile despite his current agony. You loved him too. He had a feeling that he should be skeptical, but he was experiencing too much to consider that at the moment. For now, he would just accept this outcome, however miraculous it might seem. 

Hearing your soft footsteps back into the room, he opened his eyes–immediately regretting it when his head convulsed with a renewed stab of pain. Moaning softly, he scrunched his eyes shut, bringing his thumbs up to his brows to knead them in the hope it would lessen the ache. 

“Head bothering you?” Your voice was impossibly soft as you knelt by his side, gently prying one of his hands away from his face and pressed a cold glass into it. 

“Yah. Sorry sweetheart, didn’t mean to crash here.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. I already texted Curt and told him you’d be staying here for a bit.” Pulling back your sheets on the other side of the bed, you propped yourself up next to him. “Tired?”

Grumbling affirmatively, Frank tilted his head into your shoulder, rolling as far into you as he could stomach. “But we should probably–”

“We got all the time in the world, sweetheart.” You stroked his stubbled chin languidly, smirking as his expression relaxed beneath your touch. “Just sleep. After last night, we both need it.”

“God, I love you.” He murmured, throwing an arm over your hips and letting you nestle in close. 

You pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I love you too, Frank.” 

Frank made a mental reminder to buy Lieberman a beer the next time they went out. He’d never admit it to David, but he was beyond grateful that his uninhibited self had finally made a move. 

Feeling more content than he had in months, he let himself drift off to the sound of your soft breathing.

Thanks for reading!!

[theonottsbxtch]

WHATS LEFT BEHIND PT.2 | MV1

an: guys my time off is coming to an end, i move to france next week and start my job the week after rip me but in the mean time enjoy this badboy i've been sitting on

summary: when max verstappen left his childhood girlfriend behind to face her career ending injury alone to chase his dreams of being the best bull rider the country has ever seen, he thought it would be easy. except it wasn't, he was back in town and they hated him, for one reason. they hurt their star barrel racer.

wc: 6k

part one

Max pushed open the door to The Rusty Wheel, the familiar creak of its hinges greeting him like an old memory. The low hum of country music drifted from the jukebox in the corner, and the faint smell of spilled beer and worn leather hung in the air. Not much had changed since the last time he’d stepped foot in here, years ago—except, maybe, for the fact that now every pair of eyes in the place was on him.

He ran a hand through his hair and walked over to the bar, pausing only long enough to hang his cowboy hat on one of the hooks by the door. He used to come here every weekend, same as the rest of them. He hadn’t expected the town to change much—but somehow, it felt smaller now. Tighter. Like it didn’t quite fit him anymore.

Before he could take a seat, the owner, Earl, stepped out from behind the bar. Earl was a grizzled old cowboy, his flannel shirt rolled up at the sleeves, a white beard flecked with grey. He stopped in his tracks, wiping his hands on a rag, and gave Max a once-over, his face creasing with disbelief.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Earl muttered, his eyes narrowing. “I didn’t believe it when they told me.”

Max chuckled softly, not missing the edge in Earl’s voice. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“You actually back for good?” Earl asked, still eyeing him like he was trying to decide if he was a mirage.

Max shrugged. “Looks that way.”

Earl grunted, leaning his hands on the bar. “Guess we’ll see how that works out.”

Before Max could reply, a figure appeared beside him, sliding a bottle of beer across the counter. Max glanced up and saw Daniel—his best friend from back in the day—giving him a smirk as he set the beer down. Daniel was leaner now, with a few more lines around his eyes, but he still had the same mischievous glint that had gotten them into trouble as kids.

Daniel raised an eyebrow as he wiped down the bar. “Bold move, man,” he said, shaking his head. “I mean, really bold.”

Max took the beer, the cold glass sweating in his grip. “Figured it was time.”

Daniel leaned against the bar, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah, well, half the people in this town think you’ve got some nerve coming back after what you did to her.”

Max’s stomach clenched, but he kept his face neutral. He knew it wouldn’t take long for that topic to come up. “And the other half?” he asked, taking a swig from the bottle.

Daniel snorted. “They’re just in awe of what you’ve done with your career. Hell, I’ll admit it—I followed your rides. Man, some of those bulls you took on… I thought you were insane, but you sure made a name for yourself.”

Max nodded, setting the bottle back down on the bar. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

Daniel tilted his head, studying him. “That right? Because last time I checked, you were in all the magazines, got sponsors throwing money at you, and about a million followers watching your every move. That doesn’t sound like a bad deal.”

Max sighed, leaning his elbows on the bar. “It was great for a while. But the thing is, they don’t see the rest of it. The part where you wake up and don’t know where you are half the time. Or when you’re trying to remember which interviews you’ve already done or whose hand you shook at some event you didn’t even want to go to.” He shook his head, a bitter edge creeping into his voice. “Everyone thinks they want that life until they get it.”

Daniel didn’t say anything for a moment, just watched him, the silence between them hanging heavy. Then, after a beat, he nodded. “So why’d you come back? You finally get sick of signing autographs?”

Max’s eyes drifted to the shelves of dusty bottles behind the bar, memories of a simpler life flooding back. The long nights in places like this, where the biggest problem he had was getting enough cash together to fill his tank. Where people knew him as Max, not Max Verstapppen, the famous bull rider plastered on posters across the country.

“Something like that,” he said quietly. “I was never cut out for that big city stuff. The lights, the cameras… all of it.” He paused, running a hand along the neck of the beer bottle, feeling the condensation slick against his skin. “I missed home. The quiet. The way things made sense out here.”

Daniel chuckled, shaking his head. “Home, huh?” He let out a slow breath. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m glad to see you. Always hoped you’d come back. But you know it’s not going to be easy. People here… they don’t forget.”

Max’s jaw tightened, his grip on the bottle a little firmer. “Yeah, I know.”

Daniel stared at him for a long moment, and then his expression softened, some of the teasing edge fading from his voice. “She’s still hurt, you know. Even if she doesn’t show it. You coming back… it’s gonna stir up a lot of things.”

“I figured that,” Max replied, his voice low, almost resigned. “But I had to come back anyway.”

Daniel nodded, his eyes softening. “Well, I hope you know what you’re doing. You’ve got a lot of work to do, man.”

Max took another swig of beer, the cool liquid doing nothing to settle the unease that had been bubbling in his gut since the moment he’d driven into town. “Trust me,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, “I know.”

The sound of the front door creaking open interrupted the conversation, and Max glanced over his shoulder to see a group of locals walking in, laughing and chatting as they made their way to a corner booth. He recognised some of them, faces he hadn’t seen in years, but he wasn’t ready for more conversations, more questions.

Turning back to Daniel, he nodded toward the bar. “Mind if I hang here for a while?”

Daniel smiled, a knowing glint in his eye. “Stay as long as you need. Just don’t expect the town to make it easy on you.”

Max nodded in appreciation, as he sipped his beer, letting the familiar hum of the bar settle around him. The chatter, the music, the faint clink of bottles—it all felt like a song from a time he thought he’d forgotten. But he hadn’t. Not really.

He’d been running from home for so long, he’d forgotten what it felt like to just stand still. And now that he was back, he wasn’t sure what hurt more—the memories of what he’d lost, or the fear of facing the woman he’d left behind.

______________________________________________________________

The next morning, Max stepped out of his truck, the early sun casting long shadows across the gravel driveway of High Ride Stables, Austin. The familiar scent of hay, leather, and horses filled the air, stirring memories he hadn’t thought of in years. It was a place he knew well—he’d worked here as a kid, mucking out stalls and helping with the horses. But today, the barn felt different, like the weight of his past was waiting for him inside.

He pushed open the large wooden door, the creak announcing his arrival. Inside, horses shuffled in their stalls, and the rhythmic thud of hooves echoed from deeper within. He glanced around, spotting the counter near the back where Leslie, the barn’s owner, was talking to one of the stable hands.

Leslie had been running this barn for as long as he could remember. She was tough as nails, with streaks of grey in her otherwise jet-black hair and a sharp gaze that could cut through any excuse. The stable hands called her “Les” when she wasn’t listening—if she caught them at it, they'd regret it.

When she saw him, her conversation trailed off, and her expression hardened. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the counter, eyeing him like he’d just tracked mud through her pristine barn.

“Well, look who the cat dragged in,” Leslie drawled, raising an eyebrow. “If it ain’t the hometown hero.”

Max tried to smile, but it fell flat. He took off his hat and held it in front of him. “Morning, Les.”

“Morning,” she replied, her tone flat. “What brings you here?”

“I’m lookin’ for work,” he said, stepping closer, but staying on the other side of the counter like it was a barrier between them. Which, in a way, it was.

Leslie’s eyes narrowed. “Work?” She scoffed, shaking her head. “After all that bull riding fame and fortune, you’re back here beggin’ for a job?”

“Not beggin’,” he muttered, his voice low. “Just askin’.”

She pushed herself off the counter, walking around it and standing toe-to-toe with him, hands on her hips. “Same difference.”

“Come on, Les,” he said, frustration creeping into his voice. “You know how it goes. The fame doesn’t last forever. Sponsors move on, injuries pile up… and the money—well, it dwindles. I can’t live off my bull riding winnings for the rest of my life.”

She crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed. “Sounds like a ‘you’ problem, not a ‘me’ problem.”

Max sighed, glancing around the barn, trying to find the right words. “I grew up here, working in this barn. I know horses, I know the work. You know I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

Leslie tilted her head, considering him for a moment. “You really expect me to just hand you a job, after everything?”

He frowned, confused. “After everything?”

She shot him a knowing look. “Don’t play dumb with me, Max. You know who works here.”

His stomach sank, realising where this conversation was heading. Of course, she worked here—why wouldn’t she? It was her world. She’d never left it, never had a reason to. But that didn’t make this any easier.

“I’m not lookin’ to cause any trouble, Les. I just need work,” he said, his voice softening. “I’ll stay out of her way.”

Leslie raised an eyebrow. “Stay out of her way? You can’t just waltz back into this town, askin’ for a job, and think you can just avoid her. This is a small town, boy, not some city where you can hide from the people you’ve wronged.”

Max winced at the word “wronged.” It was blunt, but he couldn’t argue with it. He had wronged her. Maybe more than he even realised.

He took a deep breath, meeting Leslie’s gaze. “I know I messed up. I know I hurt her. But… I need this job, Les. Please.”

Leslie studied him for a long moment, her face unreadable. Then, she turned and walked back to the counter, rummaging through a drawer before pulling out a small notepad. She scribbled something down on it, then tore off the piece of paper and held it out to him.

“Here’s the deal,” she said, her voice cool and matter-of-fact. “I’ll give you a job if you go apologise to her. And not just any apology—she has to forgive you.”

Max stared at her, not taking the paper. His heart raced, a mixture of panic and disbelief. “Les, that’s impossible.”

Leslie crossed her arms again, looking at him with the same steel-eyed determination she always had. “Well, if you think it’s impossible, you don’t want this job bad enough.”

His eyes flicked to the paper in her hand, knowing exactly what was written on it. He didn’t need to look to know it was her address.

“You know she’s not gonna forgive me,” he said quietly, feeling the weight of the past like a stone in his gut.

Leslie gave him a half-smile, but there was no softness in it. “Well, you better get working, boy.”

Max finally took the paper from her hand, the weight of it feeling heavier than it should. He looked down at the address, familiar yet distant, as if it belonged to another lifetime.

“I’m serious,” Leslie said, her voice softening just a bit. “You want a job here? You’ve gotta make things right with her. I won’t have you causing more mess in this barn—or in this town. Either she forgives you, or you pack your bags and keep drivin’.”

Max swallowed hard, tucking the paper into his back pocket. He wanted to argue, to tell her that there was no way in hell she’d ever forgive him. But he knew Leslie well enough to know that there was no arguing with her.

He nodded once, stiffly. “Alright. I’ll… I’ll try.”

Leslie smirked, her eyes gleaming with something he couldn’t quite place. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”

As he turned to leave, the barn door creaked open behind him, and for a split second, his heart froze. He half-expected to see her there, standing in the doorway, glaring at him like she had on that road. But it was just another worker, coming in to start the day.

Max let out a breath, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. It had been one thing to face her the first time, in the heat of the moment. But now… now he had to go, hat in hand, and ask her to forgive him. To admit he was wrong. To dig up all the things he’d been trying to bury for years.

He shoved his hat back on his head and walked out of the barn, the piece of paper burning a hole in his pocket. The road ahead of him felt longer than it had ever been.

The next day, Max stood at the front steps of the small house, nerves twisting in his stomach like a coiled rope. He stared at the chipped paint on the door, feeling the weight of years pressing down on him. This was the house he’d been avoiding ever since he set foot back in town. And now, here he was—about to knock.

He took a deep breath, raising his fist and rapping his knuckles on the door. The sound echoed in the still morning air, louder than it had any right to be. For a moment, he thought maybe she wouldn’t answer, maybe he could just turn around and—

The door swung open.

She stood in the doorway, her eyes narrowing the second she saw him. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she wore an old flannel shirt that he recognised—one she stole off of him when they were kids. She didn’t look surprised to see him. If anything, she looked like she’d been expecting him.

“Nope,” she said flatly, her hand already on the door, ready to slam it shut. “Not happening.”

“Wait,” Max said, holding up his hands. “Just… just hear me out for a minute.”

“I don’t think I need to,” she shot back, her voice cold. “I’ve already heard enough.”

“Darling, please—”

“Do not call me ‘darling,’” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut. Her eyes flashed with anger, and Max felt the sting of it, like a whip cracking against his skin. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

Max took a step back, raising his hands defensively. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t mean?” she interrupted, her voice rising, filled with a raw, seething rage that had been simmering for eight long years. “What, Max? You didn’t mean to leave me in a hospital bed without a word? You didn’t mean to disappear without so much as a goddamn goodbye?”

He swallowed hard, the guilt gnawing at him like it always did when he thought about that day. “I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to face you.”

She let out a bitter laugh, crossing her arms over her chest as if to protect herself from him. “So, you just ran? That’s your excuse?”

“I wasn’t running,” Max muttered, but the words felt hollow even to him. He’d been running for years—he knew it, and so did she.

“Bullshit,” she spat, her eyes blazing. “You’ve been running your whole damn life. When things get hard, you don’t face them—you just pack your bags and leave. That’s what you did to me, and that’s what you’ve been doing ever since.”

He opened his mouth to argue, to tell her that wasn’t true, but the words died in his throat. She wasn’t wrong. He had run. He’d run the second things got complicated, the second he felt like he was losing control.

“I thought I was doing what was best,” he said finally, his voice quieter, less sure. “I thought you’d hate me if I stayed.”

Her jaw clenched, and she took a step forward, her fists balled at her sides. “You really think I could’ve hated you?” she said, her voice trembling with the weight of years of hurt. “You think I wanted you to just leave me behind like I didn’t matter?”

“I didn’t think I was enough for you!” Max burst out, the frustration and regret spilling out of him. “You were laid up in a hospital bed because of that fall, and I was getting calls about sponsors and competitions. I was torn in two, and I didn’t know what to do! I thought if I stayed, you’d see me as some reminder of what you’d lost, of the future we’d been planning and couldn’t have anymore.”

Her eyes widened, and for a second, the anger flickered, replaced by something else—something rawer, more vulnerable. “So, what? You thought I’d hate you? That I wouldn’t want you anymore? Out of pity?” She shook her head, stepping back from him as if the very thought disgusted her. “Is that what you really think of me?”

Max dragged a hand through his hair, hating how badly this conversation was going. “It wasn’t like that,” he said, his voice pleading now. “I didn’t want to be a burden. You’d just lost everything, and I didn’t want to remind you of the future you couldn’t have anymore. You deserved better than a guy who was barely hanging on.”

“Barely hanging on?” She seethed, her fists trembling. “You didn’t give me the chance to decide that! You didn’t even try to talk to me, to ask me what I wanted. You made that choice for me.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing!” Max shouted back, his frustration boiling over. “I thought if I walked away, you’d move on. You’d be better off without me, and I could… I could disappear before you realised I wasn’t enough.”

She stared at him, her chest heaving, her eyes burning with a mixture of rage and heartbreak. “You think leaving was easier for me? You think watching you drive off without a word made me better off?”

“I wasn’t strong enough to stay,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I thought I’d hurt you more by sticking around. I thought you’d hate me, that you’d look at me and see someone who was staying out of pity.”

“God, Max,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You don’t even get it, do you?”

He swallowed hard, the weight of her words crushing him. “Then tell me,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me what I didn’t see.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, her breath shaky as she tried to compose herself. When she opened them again, there was no anger left—just hurt. “You were everything to me. Everything. And you took that away because you were scared. You left me in that hospital bed, and you didn’t even let me fight for us. You made that choice, and I had to live with it.”

Max felt his chest tighten, the guilt and regret almost suffocating. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so damn sorry.”

Her lip trembled, and for a moment, she looked like she might break. But then, just as quickly, she straightened up, hardening herself again. “Sorry doesn’t fix eight years, Max. Sorry doesn’t undo the fact that you abandoned me when I needed you most.”

He took a step closer, desperate to bridge the distance between them. “I’m here now. I want to make it right.”

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “It’s not that easy. You don’t get to just walk back into my life and pretend like nothing happened.”

“I’m not asking you to forget,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I know I can’t fix what I did. But I want to try. Please, just give me a chance.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, without another word, she stepped back inside and slammed the door in his face.

Max stood there, staring at the closed door, the sound of it still ringing in his ears. The weight of her words, the pain he’d caused, hung heavy in the air around him.

He slipped his hat back on, the brim casting a shadow over his eyes. As he turned and walked back to his truck, the gravel crunching beneath his boots, he realised something: he’d always been running. But for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure if he could ever stop.

That night, Max couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned, the weight of her words pressing on his chest like a stone. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face—angry, hurt, and accusing. It had been easier when he thought he was protecting her by leaving. Now, after their argument, it was clear that all he’d done was rip open a wound neither of them had been able to heal.

With a frustrated groan, he threw off the blankets and sat up in bed. Sleep wasn’t coming—not tonight. He rubbed a hand over his face and glanced at the clock. It was just after midnight, but it felt like the hours were crawling by, leaving him trapped with his thoughts.

His mind wandered to the only place that ever brought him a sense of calm: the rodeo. The old training grounds on the outskirts of town where he’d spent countless nights like this, working out his frustrations with the one thing he understood—bull riding. He hadn’t been back there in years, but tonight, it felt like the only place he could go to clear his head.

Throwing on a pair of jeans and his boots, Max grabbed his jacket and slipped out of the house, the cool night air hitting his face as he headed to his truck.

The rodeo grounds were quiet when he pulled up, the faint glow of the moon casting long shadows over the empty bleachers. The scent of dirt and leather filled his lungs, familiar and comforting in a way that nothing else had been since he’d come back to town. He walked toward the arena, the sounds of his boots crunching on gravel the only thing breaking the silence.

As he got closer, something caught his eye. Movement in the arena. At first, he thought it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but then he saw her.

She was on horseback, weaving through the barrels in the dim moonlight, her movements graceful and precise. It was like watching a memory come to life. She moved with a fluidity that made it look effortless, but Max knew better. He’d seen the hours she used to put in, the work that went into every sharp turn, every quick burst of speed. She hadn’t lost her touch.

He stopped at the edge of the arena, standing just out of sight, not wanting to disturb her. For a moment, he just watched, his chest tightening as he remembered how much she loved this—how much they had loved this world together.

Then, it happened. As she rounded the last barrel, something went wrong. Maybe her horse misstepped, maybe she pushed too hard, but in an instant, she was thrown off, hitting the ground hard. Her horse skittered to the side, startled by the fall.

Before he could stop himself, Max was moving. He vaulted over the fence and ran toward her, his heart pounding in his chest. She was sitting up by the time he reached her, dusting off her jeans with a wince.

“Who the fuck did I piss off in my past life for you to be the one to find me?” she muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she glanced up at him.

Max skidded to a halt, a little breathless, and held up his hands in surrender. “I was just passing by. You okay?”

She shot him a glare that could’ve melted steel. “Like you care.”

He didn’t argue, just crouched down beside her, unsure of what else to do. “How can I help?”

“Help?” She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “You really think you can help now, after everything?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, his voice softer than before. “But I’m trying.”

She rolled her eyes, but her usual fire seemed to be dimmed, just a little. “Doctor’s orders,” she said finally, wincing as she shifted her leg. “You wanna help? Raise my leg and keep it elevated for fifteen minutes.”

Max hesitated for a moment, unsure if she was messing with him or not. But the way she was holding her side, the tightness in her face, told him this was real.

He nodded and carefully slid his arm under her leg, lifting it gently and resting it on his knee. She didn’t protest, but she also didn’t look at him. They sat there in silence, the tension between them as thick as the night air.

The minutes dragged by, and Max could feel every second of it. He kept his gaze focused on the ground, resisting the urge to say something—anything—to break the silence. But she was the one who spoke first.

“You should’ve stayed gone,” she said quietly, her voice lacking the venom it usually held.

Max swallowed hard, his throat dry. “I couldn’t.”

“You mean you didn’t want to. Big difference.” She still wasn’t looking at him, her focus trained on the darkened arena ahead of them.

He shifted slightly, careful not to jostle her leg. “I missed this place,” he said after a long pause. “Missed the people. Missed… you.”

She scoffed, but there was less bite to it. “You missed me? Is that why you didn’t call for eight years? ‘Cause you missed me?”

“I didn’t know how,” he admitted, his voice low. “I thought you’d moved on. I thought it was easier for you if I wasn’t in the picture.”

“Easier?” She let out a humourless laugh. “Do you even hear yourself, Max? You just disappeared. You didn’t even give me the chance to move on, to deal with any of it. You just left, and I had to pick up the pieces.”

He clenched his jaw, the guilt settling deep in his chest. “I thought I was doing what was best.”

“Stop saying that,” she snapped, finally turning to look at him. Her eyes were filled with anger, but underneath it was something else—something softer, more vulnerable. “You keep saying that like it was some noble thing you did, but all you did was make a decision for both of us. You never even asked me what I wanted.”

Max opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. She was right. He hadn’t asked. He’d just assumed.

They fell into silence again, the weight of the unspoken things between them pressing down like a heavy fog.

After what felt like forever, she sighed, leaning back against the fence, her leg still resting on his knee. “You know,” she said quietly, “there was a time when I would’ve given anything to hear you say you missed me. But now… I don’t even know what to do with that.”

Max looked at her, his chest tightening at the sight of her so close, yet so far away. “I’m trying,” he said softly. “I know I messed up. I know I can’t fix what I did, but I’m here now. I want to make it right.”

She didn’t respond, just stared out at the empty arena, her face unreadable.

The silence stretched between them, and Max could feel the weight of it settling in his bones. He wanted to say more, to tell her everything that had been building inside him for years. But the words felt too small, too insignificant for the damage he’d caused.

After a long while, she spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if it’s enough.”

Max’s heart clenched, but he nodded. “I get that,” he said quietly. “But I’m not going anywhere this time.”

She didn’t say anything else, and the two of them sat there in the quiet of the rodeo grounds, with nothing but the stars and the distant sounds of the horses to keep them company.

For the first time in years, it wasn’t the silence that felt unbearable. It was the hope buried somewhere beneath it.

She shifted slightly, wincing a bit as she adjusted her leg on his knee. Max kept his hold steady, though every muscle in him was tense. He was waiting, unsure if she’d kick him out of her life again or keep him suspended in this strange limbo they found themselves in.

“What was it like?” she asked suddenly, her voice soft but cutting through the stillness. She didn’t look at him, just kept her eyes trained on the horizon, as if the answer was out there somewhere in the night sky. “To make it big? To live that life?”

Max glanced at her, surprised by the question. For a moment, he wasn’t sure how to respond. His instinct was to downplay it, to gloss over the highs and lows like he had so many times before when people asked. But this wasn’t just anyone asking—it was her.

He took a deep breath. “It was everything I thought it’d be,” he started, his voice low. “At first, anyway. The crowds, the money, the fame… it was wild. Everything moved so fast. One minute I was just this kid from nowhere, the next I was on posters, doing interviews, getting invited to places I’d never even dreamed of.”

He paused, rubbing the back of his neck as the memories flooded back. “The adrenaline—it’s like nothing else. Every ride, every victory, it felt like I was on top of the world. But the crashes… they’re just as big. Bigger, even.”

She listened quietly, her face unreadable. He wasn’t sure if she cared or if she was just being polite, but he kept going, needing to get it out.

“There were nights when I’d lie awake in a hotel room, hundreds of miles from home, and wonder what the hell I was doing,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “I was surrounded by people all the time, but I never felt more alone. It was like… like I was chasing something, and no matter how far I got, I couldn’t catch it. Every high came with a low, and after a while, the lows started outweighing everything else.”

She still didn’t say anything, her eyes fixed on the stars. He looked down at the ground, the dirt beneath his boots feeling more real than anything had in a long time.

“I got tired of it,” he confessed after a long pause. “Tired of the crowds, the noise, the pressure to be something I wasn’t sure I wanted to be anymore. I missed this place. I missed…” He trailed off, but she didn’t need him to finish the sentence. They both knew what he meant.

Finally, she turned her head slightly, her eyes finding his. “And you think you can just come back?” she asked, her voice steady but tinged with something bitter, something hurt. “After all of that? Just walk back into this life like nothing happened?”

Max swallowed hard. “No,” he said quietly. “I don’t think that. I know I can’t just… fix things. I’m not here to pretend that the past didn’t happen.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her gaze sharp, cutting through the quiet. “Why should I trust you?”

He didn’t flinch at the question. He’d been expecting it, waiting for it.

“You don’t have to,” he answered honestly, meeting her eyes. “I know I haven’t earned that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

Her jaw clenched, and she turned her gaze back to the arena. “You hurt me, Max. You didn’t just leave—you disappeared. Like I meant nothing.”

“I know,” he whispered, the words heavy with regret. “And I’m so damn sorry. If I could take it all back, I would.”

“Sorry isn’t enough,” she said, her voice trembling just slightly. “You don’t get to come back after eight years and expect me to forget what that felt like.”

He nodded, his throat tight. “I’m not asking you to forget. Or even to forgive me right away. I just want a chance to make things right. To prove that I’m not that guy anymore.”

She didn’t respond, just sat there in the silence, her leg still resting on his knee. It was a strange kind of intimacy—one built on years of unresolved hurt, but also on something deeper. Something neither of them wanted to name yet.

After a while, she sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Nothing ever changed here, you know,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. “While you were out there, living that big life, everything just… stayed the same. The same people, the same rodeos, the same barns. It was like I was stuck while you were off becoming someone else.”

Max’s chest tightened at her words. He couldn’t imagine what that must��ve felt like, to watch the world move on without her, to feel left behind. And worse, to know he was part of the reason she felt that way.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, the words feeling inadequate, but it was all he had. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to leave you stuck. I thought you’d move on. I thought you’d—”

“Stop thinking,” she cut in, her voice sharp again, though there was a weariness in her eyes. “You keep telling yourself you did what was best for me, but you never asked me what I wanted. You just decided for both of us.”

He nodded, taking the hit. She was right, and he wasn’t going to argue with that.

She shifted again, pulling her leg off his knee and standing up, brushing the dirt off her jeans. Max stood too, though he kept his distance, unsure of what to do next. The tension between them was still there, heavy and thick, but something had changed. There was a crack in the wall she’d built around herself, just a small one, but it was there.

“Look,” she said after a long pause, her voice softer now. “I don’t know what you expect to happen. I don’t know if I can ever trust you again. But… I don’t hate you. Not anymore. I thought I did, for a long time. But it’s just… it’s hard to hate someone you used to love that much.”

His heart stuttered in his chest at the word “love.” Even though it was in the past tense, it still felt like a lifeline.

“I don’t expect anything,” he said quietly. “I just want to be here. Whatever that looks like.”

She gave him a long look, her eyes searching his face as if she was trying to figure out if he was telling the truth. Finally, she nodded, just once. “We’ll see.”

It wasn’t a promise. It wasn’t even close. But it was something.

She turned and started walking toward her truck, her steps slow, like she was still testing how much she could trust the ground beneath her.

Max watched her go, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, the weight of the past still pressing on him. But for the first time in a long time, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he had a chance.

And he wasn’t going to waste it.

part three

[lotusarchon]

macaque's successor (mk x reader)

content warnings: female reader, second pov (you/your), mild fluff and angst, season 1 events, isekai (reader dies from choking), foul language, macaque mentioned i guess, vague hints of manipulation/gaslighting from macaque, mk being a little shit, nsfw content, minors/ageless blogs dni, virginity loss,np in v sex, mild dubcon oral sex (fem receiving), public sex (reader + mk fuck in an alleyway), car sex (in the tuktuk), implied breeding kink, light bondage (the headband is a paid actor)

author's notes: requested from AO3. this literally hit 6k words so i'm gonna make it a series lmfao help

You remembered choking.

Honestly, it was an embarassing way to die, you won't deny it. How humiliating it was when people asked about your demise, anticipating a tragic if not heroic end. And usually, in the fanfics you read, that's how it always go!! Either someone dies by trying to save someone else, or by fucking suicide!! Not this!!! Not by choking on a dumpling while watching the fifth season of your favorite show; Lego Monkie Kid!!

Gods, how embarassing. Even when waking up, the memory of the dumpling stuck in your throat while you flailed wildly, surprised when the plot twist was revealed with the snake villain…gah! Just end you now!

Wait no. You died once. If you died twice again, that would be way worst.

Ah well. You couldn't say you were too disappointed. Though you missed a few things from your old life, your life was just…too boring. You didn't have much friends, your parents were emotionally distant and well, aside from your job, there really wasn't much to your current life. You felt too much like a burden to your parents, so maybe…you could free them of the worries of an unmarried, boring child.

You considered your ‘isekai’ moment as some sort of new start. Your chance to better your life! You didn't anticipate to be a part of anything major, not with your boring self, but the scenery in the Lego Monkie Kid universe wasn't so bad, and surprisingly the people seem nice. Perks of being a children's show, you guessed.

When you had first woken up, lying on the sand of some beach, you were both pleasantly surprised and concerned. It took a few minutes for you to process that you hadn't ended up in some weird coma because you choked to death and that you had, somehow, in some weird fucking way, woken up in the lego world. How did you realize that?

If the lego hands weren't enough of an answer, the green and white blur of a certain female character driving past should've been.

You were fucking isekai’d.

And then you fainted from shock.

When you woke up again, you were lying on a military cot, a thin blanket thrown over your form. There was sunlight from a window to the wall opposite of you, and the sound of clapping and cheering.

While you sat there contemplating your situation, and wondering if you were about to be canon fodder to some demon within the show, a door you hadn't been aware of opened and closed shut. A man wearing a thick black and red robe was standing in front of you. And come on, you're no fool―there was no way in hell you wouldn't know who this particular figure was. You'd have to be pretty stupid not to have recognized his dramatic robes from the second season.

Which reminded you. Where exactly had you fallen in the timeline, if Macaque found you and most possibly brought you to his weird theatre?

“You got a name, kid?” His gruff voice questioned, pulling the hood of his head to glance at you. In his hands was a tray, a simple meal of rice porridge and cut fruits. You accepted the tray awkwardly, wondering if the food would be edible if this was pre-s4/5 Macaque.

“Um. My name is (Name).” You smiled at the monkey demon awkwardly. “And…um…w-who might you be?”

“Macaque. The Six Eared Macaque.” He took a seat on a discarded chair, sharp fangs glinting in what little light it had. “(Name), huh? Well, I found you before you died from a cold, (Name). You were stranded on a beach not far from here.”

Right…that you already figured out.

“I hope you don't mind me asking. Do you have any family or friends to run home too?”

You thought for a moment. You didn't die and end up in any existing character already…..so as far as you knew, you were completely alone in this strange new world. The realization finally dawned on you that though it was a joyous feeling, being in your favorite show, interacting with nice people, there was no way you'd be able to survive. You were human for all you knew too, just some person living in a world with magic, demons and the occasional deity.

“No.” You signed, stirring the porridge. “I'm..alone.”

“You have no one?” Macaque repeated. “No one to turn too for help? Surely, your parents…friends…?”

You shook your head again.

There was a moment of awkward silence. You continued to stir the porridge awkwardly while Macaque possibly thought to himself.

“Alright.” Macaque stood. “It'd be cruel of me to leave someone as young as you to wander off on your own.” You tensed when he walked in your direction, but surprisingly, all he did was gently pat your head. “I'll offer you a deal, kid, since you're already in my debt.”

Please don't ask me to sell my soul.

“Wasn't planning on it.” Ah, you spoke out loud. “Be my apprentice. I'll feed and clothe you and in turn you train under me and help around the theatre here. It'll be a…mutually beneficial relationship.”

Well. You didn't have much of a choice now, did you?

After a moment of thinking, you nodded. There was nothing less to be done than to accept your fate. And hey, as cliche as it was, maybe you can turn Macaque over! Act like the MK to his Sun Wukong, you know?

And that was a lie.

Macaque was not a kind teacher. As the agreement followed, he did feed and clothe you. Hell, you swore he was even giving you your own salary helping him out with the theatre, either cleaning up or sending posters or dealing with guests. He wasn't so bad, that was, outside of training. During training, though, he was an entirely different person.

The first week, he was horrible. You swore you couldn't even repeat the degrading words he had said, every detail embedded in your head. Scolding you for being weak, to put more effort if you truly wanted to learn and be strong. That being weak was for those that were already dead.

It was difficult to think he was an entirely different person outside of training. Usually he would chat or show you things he's made, like puppets or dolls. If he was in a good mood, he'd even put on a puppet show for you, and you'd get to see his ‘The Hero And The Warrior’ tale up close and in person. But, if he was in a bad mood, you were lucky to get a simple grunt before he ignored you.

Between that and when you were alone, you got to explore more of your new world. You found out that his theatre was to the end of the city, so a lot of people would have to travel often to see his plays. After getting lost a few times and finally getting a map you could properly read, you found Pigsy's noodles and decided to pay it a visit.

What was the worst that could possibly happen? And anyways, you were both bored and curious to know where exactly you were in the storyline. Since you were supposed to be Macaque's apprentice now, surely that meant you'd most likely be involved now in the main story, right?

“I keep telling ya MK, you rarely ever focus!”

Ah, that should be an obvious enough an answer. There was an entire episode dedicated to MK's focusing. Erm, episode…6, was it? No, that was the racing episode.

Episode 7, maybe? Ah, yeah, that had to be it.

You dared to peek your head inside, catching sight of the protagonist and his father figure speaking to each other. Or, more like MK was clinging to his dad's leg while Pigsy scolded him with threats of firing him.

Ah, typical Monkie Kid moment. It felt so unreal to be here in person, watching them.

And then MK ran into you. Had you been that dazed out you completely missed him running until he ran smack into you, spilling noodles on the front of your shirt?

“Gah! Are you okay!?” MK spluttered, his eyes wide with panic. “Oh, shit―” Wait, was that normal? Wasn't this a kid's show? Why the fuck― “Fuck, uh.”

“Kid?” Pigsy's voice was heard behind him. “What's the keep u―oh, damn it MK.”

Huh? This is a kid's show! Why are they swearing!?

“I'm sorry!!” MK was whining. You felt his hands on your chest, dabbing away with swabs of paper napkins he must've grabbed from the counter. “Sorry, sorry!!! I'm so sorry, I just―aah!!”

You were to dumbstruck to even question the fact he was so blatantly touching your chest. Not when you were more concerned about the fact they cursed. This was a children's show. Why the fuck were they cursing!? Were they always cursing and it was just obscured because of the children audience it was aimed for!? Huh?!

“Kid, I think you've made it worst.” Pigsy's gruff voice brought you back to reality. You smiled nervously as MK pulled his hands away, wringing them anxiously from the stain he just left behind.

“I'm sorry!!” MK pursed his lips. Though he was never a favorite of yours, you had to admit up close he was kind of cute in the basic anime protagonist way. You wondered what would happen if you pinched his cheeks a bit. Would it be soft to touch? “I-I’ll um, I'll make it up to you! Promise!”

Oh. Right, he spilled noodles on your shirt.

You shook your head, waving off his worry. “No need too. It's fine, it was my fault anyway.” Technically you weren't wrong. You weren't paying attention, and how was MK supposed to know someone was kinda attempting to spy on him. “But uh….” You glanced at the sticky wet stain. “I don't suppose you have anything I can borrow…?”

MK perked up. He looked pleased you weren't yelling at him, nor demanding some form of payment that would probably give Pigsy a heart attack. He nodded quickly, fluffy brown hair growing even messier from his actions. Holy shit, was it as soft as it looked? Would it feel nice??

“I've got a spare shirt upstairs!” He exclaimed, once again interrupting your thoughts. “My friend leaves her clothes behind, there should be one that fits you! Gimme a sec―”

Oh, he was gone. You were going to tell him not to bother, it'd be too weird wearing his best friend's shirt….

Waiting in awkward silence, you glanced at Pigsy, who had crossed his arms opposite of you. He raised his head and caught your gaze, making you look away.

“You must be new around these parts,” the pig demon remarked, causing you to stiffen. “I don't think I recognize ya, kid. Got a name?”

Er….well.

“(Name).” It'd be pointless to lie about yourself. And anyway, if you chose the name of a character that was probably already in the series, it'd make one hell of a scenario. Too embarassing anyway. “Umm. You must be Pigsy, the owner of this er…fine establishment?”

The pig demon snorted, “As if the name isn't obvious enough.” You flinched, anticipating him to be rude, but who knew he was merely being sarcastic and teasing you. He shook his head at your expression, chuckling, “I'm pulling ya’ leg kid. Yeah, that's me. What brings ya’ here anyway?”

Before you could respond, the sound of someone falling down a flight of stairs, and a certain noodle boy reappeared with a clean, green and white T-shirt in his hands. He smiled bashfully, apologizing for his absence and shoved the cloth into your hands abruptly.

“So you won't have to wear a dirty one!” He exclaimed with his signature grin. “And my apology! It should be closer to your size…I think….”

The noodle boy trailed off, staring at your chest for a moment. You followed his gaze and blinked.

“I…eh?”

Instead of blushing like he was caught in the act, MK scratched his chin thoughtfully. He didn't come off as a pervert to you, merely concerned and almost confused.

“Kid. Ya staring too much.”

“Oh.” MK blinked. “Oh, my bad! Sorry, I just didn't know if you'd be comfortable wearing anything too small. If it doesn't fit, do you want mine?”

You knew he meant well, but you did feel slightly offended. You weren't that big, were you?

“Kid.” Pigsy sounded mildly exhausted. It seemed like it wasn't the first time the noodle boy had been a bit too blunt with his words. “I think ya should stop talking.”

“I didn't say anything bad this time!! Did I?!”

You and Pigsy exchanged a mutual stare, shaking your heads at the remark. He gestured towards the customer bathrooms for you to change, but when you returned MK had long since left for his job and typical adventure of the week. As a form of apology, Pigsy gave you a free bowl of noodles and invited you to return at any point for your cleaned shirt, which he insisted you leave behind for MK to wash.

You weren't sure if Macaque was pleased when you explained where you had gotten the noodles, or disappointed. By his tone and appearance, he didn't seem offended. If anything he seemed quite satisfied with your remark while you split your noodles with him, and he remarked, strangely, “That MK's a good kid. You can befriend him if you want.”

You paused mid-swallow, unsure of what to say. Macaque chuckled at your expression and patted your head.

“It's fine,” he said with a grin. “Just ‘cause I hate his mentor, doesn't mean I'll stop you from having friends of your own.” He stole a piece of meat from you. “Just as long as you don't pull a bitch move and abandon your mentor. I'd feel so heartbroken, y'know?”

There was something about his tone, that brief sarcastic comment paired with his saccharine smile that made you flinch. Still, you nodded, assuring him that you'd never abandon him.

It's not like you had anyone else anyway.

An unlikely friendship formed between you and the hero.

You returned to the noodle shop once your training with Macaque was completed, hoping to return Mei's shirt and retrieve your original one. Pigsy greeted you at the door, offering you to take a seat while MK returned from another one of his monster of the week adventures. Pigsy wasn't so bad, though you were surprised to see Tang absent. Then again, maybe the scholar was just busy―he didn't appear in every episode after all.

“Oh, Piggy! Tangy is dea―” Mei was the first to barge into the noodle shop, her eyes wide. Seeing her up close and in person, you were practically shocked at how pretty she was. You thought the Mei fans had been exaggerating, but no. The dragon girl was just as pretty if not more, and when she flashed you a grin you swore you might be a little bit queer. “Whoa! Cute girl!”

“Mei, what the hell?” You still couldn't get used to them swearing. Pigsy threw a spoon at the dragon girl, which she managed to duck. Unfortunately, the person behind her, MK, was the victim of the spoon, and he collapsed with a cry. “Just ignore her, she's always weird.”

You smiled, nodding while Mei protested against the comment. She took a seat on the stool next to you, offering her hand.

“Oh! You're the girl MK was telling me about!” Mei exclaimed as you introduced yourself. You were surprised MK would even bother speaking about you, who was pretty much an NPC at this point, but at the same time, being noticed by the protagonist was a pleasant feeling, wasn't it? “Did my shirt fit you or was your boobies to big?”

You heard MK choke at the remark, and when you glanced at him he looked ashamed.

“I didn't say that,” he quickly defended, throwing himself at Mei to stop her from sharing any more embarassing comments. “I-I just said that the shirt was too small!! I swear!! I didn't mean anything like that!!”

You smiled awkwardly. “It's fine. I'm sure it was an accident.”

The dragon girl merely sighed. You didn't miss the look she flashed at her friend, and as if they had some sort of telepathic ability, MK returned her look with his own. You were in awe at their silence conversation, and you had no problem merely observing them like animals in a zoo.

Ah, wait…there are animals here…oops.

“Sure. Accident.” Mei scoffed under her breath, turning her attention back to you. “Soooo~ cute gal. Did I tell you how cute you were?”

Basically. “You mentioned it, yes.”

“Good. ‘Cause you are.” The dragon girl pinched your cheek. The action made you wince, reminiscent of how Macaque tended to be, always pinching your face on occasion, but Mei's hands were gentler and less likely to make you tear up. She released your cheek after a while, arm still slung around your shoulders while she continued on, “(Name), (Name)...huh. You know, I actually don't think I've ever met you either.”

Without thinking, you sighed in relief. For what it was worth, you were still feeling jittery at the idea of being recognized by someone. After all, who's not to say you hadn't just ended up in a random NPC’s body that just happened to resemble you? The universe worked in mysterious ways, and you'd really not want that chance of being recognized. Even if it wouldn't be a major problem plot-wise, you'd rather not have to deal with the nagging feeling you were in someone else's body.

So, hearing one of the most sociable characters in the show admit to never meeting you before made you all the more relieved. If you could clap your hands, you really would at that moment.

MK had taken a seat on the opposite side of you, leaving you trapped between him and his best friend.

It…was a bit odd, you wouldn't lie. There was an empty seat next to Mei, so why choose to sit next to you of all places? Wouldn't it be easier to sit with his friend?

“Oh, yeah. I don't think you mentioned where you're from?” Pigsy had long since left for the kitchen, so you knew that question had been from MK. It was cute that Pigsy had chosen to mention something trivial you said to his kid, but you'd also hate having to be asked and make up a lie on the spot.

You thought for a moment, then nodded. “I didn't think it was important. My family moved here for some business stuff.”

Mei seemed to perk up at that. “Oh, you're a foreigner? That's so cool! Where are you from!?”

“Um….”

“Right. Right.” The dragon girl relaxed, her lips parted in a laugh. She waved off your nervous expression, “Sorry ‘bout that. Didn't mean to pry. But that's pretty cool.”

“It definitely is.” MK grinned next to you. “Traveling around like that sounds fun. How do you like the city so far? Have you seen the cheese tea stalls?”

They're actually called cheese tea stalls!? You sweatdropped, trying to imagine what tea would taste like with actual cheese in it. The combination in your head made you mentally gag, but with a smile on your face you merely nodded. Macaque had taught you well, even if not directly, so you'd consider yourself a pro at masking your feelings.

“Ah.” Was it just you, or did MK sound disappointed at that?

And yet, not only a few seconds later, his expression had brightened once again.

You spent at least three hours at the noodle shop, listening to MK and Mei ask you questions and share the wildest stories.

For some reason, MK always seemed to look for your opinion on something. You put it off as merely him hoping to impress a new friend he's made, as a newly turned hero.

You sat with Macaque once again for dinner.

Almost half a year had passed since you had arrived in this new world. Surprisingly, an unlikely friendship had formed between yourself and the dragon girl and monkey boy duo.

You didn't think something like that would've happened in over a million years. Someone like you, befriending people as fun and kind as Mei and MK? You'd have to either be high or dreaming.

But, you didn't mind it either way. They were fun to be around, and more often than not, they'd invite you on their hangouts. Especially that MK, who was always ready to pull you into an adventure with him.

You had to admit, you've grown quite fond of him over the past few months.

And as for Macaque…

You glanced at the simian. Though you'd like to think you two had grown closer, there was still a barrier that kept you at arms length. At this point, you assumed Wukong's supposed betrayal was still fresh on his mind after all these years, and so even if he was nicer to you, he never once actually attempted to draw you closer.

So disappointing…

You chewed on your chopsticks thoughtfully.

Over time, you've tried not to interfere with the canon plot too much. So, even when that particular episode regarding the key to unlocking the Bone Demon's tomb happened (cough, s1 episode 8), you didn't intervene. You didn't warn MK that he was toying with the very object that would change his life forever, nor did you warn him about the creepy Mayor guy.

Speaking of him…there's something really off-putting about that guy. It's like he knows something I don't. You frowned to yourself, recalling that particular interaction. Though you didn't do much, the Mayor had still been watching you.

“It would be my deepest pleasure to meet little miss once again,” he had said, oddly charming in a particularly creepy way. “So until we next meet, farewell~!”

Agh, whatever. It was canon he was total nutcase anyway, you shouldn't be worried about that.

What you were worried about though, was the episode where Macaque would meet MK. As much as you loved him as your favorite character, you couldn't deny that he had as much of a role to MK's trauma as the other villains did.

And with how fond you were of MK currently, you had to admit; hurting him just to spite Wukong was genuinely too far. When all was said and done, hating your ex best friend was fine, but there was no need to pull innocent people into the crossfire. MK might not have dwelled on it anymore, but the interactions he had with Macaque and later on Azure…it definitely fucked him up, didn't it?

Sigh. Though you knew this had to happen for plot's sake, you really wished it didn't have to happen. You didn't think you could bare to witness this scene upclose and in person, so you wondered if you should take Mei on that offer to leave the city for a few days…

“So, you and that MK boy are close now, hm?” When you raised your head, Macaque caught your gaze and grinned. He was sipping from a can of fizzy drink, something you'd never expect from him of all people, and occasionally would glance at you. He raised a brow, “You turned into a beaver, kid? You're chewing those chopsticks for so long.”

Embarrassed, you pulled the chopsticks out of your mouth. The ends were covered in your spit and bite marks, and you cried in your heart at the damage. How embarassing…

“Um. Yeah. Guess we are now.” You shoveled cold noodles into your mouth again, hiding your embarrassment. Until you choked and had to take a break, coughing and chewing soggy noodles.

Macaque slid a can to you, already opened. You accepted it with a nod, relieved at the sugary taste that freed your clogged throat.

He was speaking again. “I've been thinking. The kid looks like he needs some extra training, you know? I mean, looking at his fighting moves….something tells me that teacher of his hasn't been doing jackshit for him. Just shoved a big staff into his hands and told him to go crazy.”

If you didn't know Macaque's character in season one, you would've thought he was genuinely concerned. Though his words were criticism at Wukong, there was no warmth or genuinity in them, only a type of bluntness intended to hit home.

You stared at your can thoughtfully. Would he ask you to help him manipulate MK? Would you have to lie to him?

“Hey. Have you ever taken a break since you became my apprentice?” Macaque threw his empty can into a wastebasket, yet his gaze was still on you.

You blinked. You hadn't taken a break since you joined this world, and that been well over six months now.

Where was he going with this?

“I think you deserve a break,” he concluded and leaned back against his chair. “Spend a few weeks outside the city. It'd do you some good. I'll arrange some things for you, ‘kay? Maybe even hook you up with one of my pals to continue your training.”

Oh. Macaque hadn't sent you out of the city with good intentions. He'd sent you so you wouldn't be a hindrance to his plans―you liked MK, that much he knew. His six ears could pick up on the way you brightened around the kid, and he was well aware of the signs of affection. You adored him as he did you, but you were too stubborn to admit it.

Sure, there were some things about you that confused him. He couldn't hear anything from your past, as if it were a blank slate. No childhood, no recollection of a time before you came across him. It was if something was purposely stopping him from hearing beyond that first meeting between you both.

But to Macaque, that was fine. A hindrance, but fine. He would work with it.

As long as you weren't there to warn MK, to push him away from Macaque. As long as you weren't there to disrupt the natural flow of fate.

Macaque boredly nudged the fallen hero's face, a malicious smile on his lips. How the mighty had fallen, just a child with a heavy stick. And where was his mentor now?

“You know, it's a shame my student likes you so much,” he said, almost mockingly, and grabbed MK's chin. The little bastard tried to glare, his body weak from the sudden withdrawal of power within him. Good. “You know, she likes you so much. Thinks you're such a cool guy.”

MK's eyes seemed to narrow. His interest was piqued.

Good.

“(Name)...ah yes. She likes you so much, you know? Even told me not to go too hard on you and your fragile heart.” Macaque's smile merely widened. The longer he yapped some nonsense, the more this naive little hero bought into it.

Ah, that would be the death of him. What a foolish child, helplessly ready to believe what words were spoken. That would never do him any good.

Not that Macaque cared. Watching that look of betrayal flash across his face, the fight he had left fading…

Even when Wukong had stepped in, and he had suffered a bitter defeat, Macaque thought it had all been worth it.

You knew something was wrong the moment you returned to the city.

Maybe the plot had gone wrong. Maybe Macaque didn't betray MK because you had been his student? Maybe MK hadn't fallen fool to Macaque's charming words?

….

The city was fine. MK was fine.

When you stopped at the noodle shop, you were wholly surprised to see MK there. Aside from a bandage wrapped around his neck, he was fine. Laughing with his best friend, bothering Pigsy.

He was fine.

“Oh! (Name)!” Mei leaned over the counter, waving at you excitedly. You flinched at the attention, sparing the noodle boy a glance.

The smile he had been wearing fell. He wasn't looking at you with the same gentleness he had just only three weeks ago. Now, he looked wary, and upset.

Your blood felt cold in your veins.

Had Macaque done something?

“Hello? Earth to (Name)?” Mei gently racked her knuckles against your head. “Girl, you okay there? Did that three week vacay turn your brain into jelly?”

You tore your gaze away from MK.

Whatever it was Macaque had done, you needed to fix it.

At least, to explain yourself…

And surely, MK would listen to you…right?

MK's staff felt heavy against your chest. You knew this staff had once been a pillar in the dragon king's palace, but holy shit the show did not put enough emphasis on how heavy this staff was. The baddies that had to face the opposite end either had more plot armor than the protagonist, or fucking balls of steel.

Mind you, this was MK only allowing you to feel a quarter of it's actual weight. You figured he wasn't mad enough to crush you under it, given that he was still holding the staff above you with a conflicted expression.

You hadn't anticipated he would've followed you back to Macaque's dojo, which had long since been abandoned from his defeat. You hadn't anticipated he would've attacked you, if only to test something…

“He was right,” he muttered, caging you against the wall at the back of the building. “You…you're his student?”

Was, you thought, recalling the shadow powers you'd used to escape him. Now though…

“MK, I―”

“No. Don't you even.” You snapped your mouth shut at his remark. His eyes were glazed over, and you swore if he blinked, he would actually cry. As it stood, he merely glared at you, his expression flitting from angry, to upset, to hurt, and repeated the cycle. “You…you fucking lied. You…you were just pretending to be my friend!?”

You stayed silent.

MK laughed in disbelief.

“You won't even try. You…why?” The weight on your chest was lifted. MK's staff disappeared, but he still kept you caged between his arms, his shoulders sagging. “Why do this? Pretend to be my friend? Made me like you―” Your heart broke at the way his voice cracked. “You…you just…you lied. You lied and said I was your friend. Lied and pretended to be my friend, pretended to like me in turn, only for it to be all an act?? Why? What could Macaque have offered for you…to…to do this!?”

You heard him sniffle. “Fuck. You won't even defend yourself. Won't you lie and tell me I'm wrong?”

“But you are.”

MK raised his head.

Oh, you hated this. He looked so heartbroken. The tears had spilled, staining his cheeks. He looked so sad, and you hated this. You hated seeing him cry like this.

“I…never lied to you,” you mumbled, looking at your feet. “I did. Like being your friend. I liked…being with you. I never…I never wanted to hurt you, MK. I swear. I've always liked you. I wanted to be your friend, I liked you.”

But Macaque…

“I didn't know what Macaque was planning.” A lie. “But I never intended to hurt you, MK. You can hate me for what Macaque did, but I never wanted you to get hurt.” At least, not to this extent….

You raised your head to see MK still staring at you. His eyes wide in shock (hopefully not horror), and he looked…confused.

You never really noticed how cute he looked, all confused and lost. You wanted to pinch his cheeks.

So you did. You reached up, and squeezed his cheek between your hands. MK didn't stop you, too surprised, and you took advantage of it―squeezing and smushing, watching how red they became from your actions.

I don't like it when you cry. I really don't. If this is how hurt you are, I'll never do it again. I'll never let you cry again.

MK's hands grabbed your wrists. You stilled, expecting him to be angry, but he only pinned your hands to the wall.

“Prove it.”

“Huh?”

MK pursed his lips. The corners of his eyes were still red from crying, and his gaze had darted from your eyes, and then lower.

“You…you have to prove that you mean it,” he said, finally. “That…that Macaque was lying. You have to prove you're telling the truth.”

MK, aren't you sounding like a child right now?

You paused, but nodded. “I don't mind. But how am I supposed to prove that?”

MK stared at you so hard and for so long, you had to look away with shame. Why did it feel like he was implying something here…?

A hand cupped your boobs. You blinked when MK gave it a light squeeze.

….. ISN'T THIS SHOW RATED FOR KIDS!? WHAT THE FUCK!?

Note to future self: fucking in alleyways are very unhygienic and also just uncomfortable in general.

Other note to future self: you somehow gave Qi fucking Xiaotian a boob kink.

No, you weren't joking. MK had looked at you so pleadingly and helplessly that of course, you had to yield to his request. You liked him, he liked you, and if this meant he would trust you again and mend the bond Macaque had broken, then so be it. You'd fuck in one thousand alleyways if it meant MK would trust you again.

You just really hoped you wouldn't have too, though. Alleyways were weird.

And, you figured not to question this situation.

You ran your hands through MK's hair, sitting atop the tuktuk MK had parked in the same alleyway. Though you itched to pull his bandanna off, you decided not to. If only because when you had tried before, MK had looked at you with heartbroken eyes, and you didn't like seeing him upset.

His hand slid down the front of your pants, pushing your panties to the side. Your body tensed, and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth when his fingers rubbed against your folds, following the same rhythm as his hand occupied with your breast.

Look. You were a total loser in your old life, okay? And in this one, you never bothered with dating.

So, of course, you're a total fucking virgin. The closest experience you had with anything porn related was fanfiction, and everyone knows fanfiction is never realistic!!

So, of course, you were embarrassed and completely tense, even when MK assured you not to be.

A fucking cartoon character is more experienced than me. A. Fucking. CHILDREN'S SHOW MAIN CHARACTER. HOW DO YOU THINK I FEEL!? You cried in your heart, but flashed MK an awkward smile nonetheless. He grinned at you, before his lips latched onto your nipple he'd been teasing. At the same time, his fingers had found your hole dripping with anticipation, gently pushing a finger inside.

Fanfiction did not prepare you for any of this. You thought you would faint from actually experiencing this the first time….agh…

MK's tongue was wet against your tit. He squeezed and fondled the soft flesh, dragging his tongue against your perked bud with leisure. His other hand gently pumped through your walls, slow, at first, until he added a second finger, and the base of his palm pressed against your clit.

Ugh, this was awkward. You slapped a hand over your mouth, hiding your embarassing fucking noises, and hopefully your own burning expression.

Oh god, what if I get sent back home? The fuck am I gonna tell my parents!? “Hey Mom and Dad, I lost my virginity to a fucking fictional character, no big deal!” Bah!!

Sharp teeth grazed against your tender bud, and the slight burning sensation from MK's fingers inside your cunt gave way to the slightest bit of pleasure, slick easing his movements. You felt yourself squirming against his hand, unsure if you wanted to pull away when his fingers curled against a spot that made you dizzy, or push into him for more.

The noodle boy released your tit with a wet pop, saliva connecting his lips to your breast. If it had been in any other situation, you wouldn't have mind to say it was borderline lewd, but this was real and it involved you, so naturally, you looked away in embarrassment. You heard MK laughing at your reaction, his palm applying pressure to your puffy clit, seeming to find your jolts and muffled whines amusing.

His free hand tugged on your pants, pulling them lower to your ankles. He settled himself lower between your legs, and your panties were pushed higher and his head lower.

You stiffened when his warm breath brushed against your cunt, your fingers still pumping in your hole.

“...hey, wait a sec―” Your hands landed on his head. “Aren't we…I mean you're…we really shouldn't―”

MK pouted, swatting your hand away. “I thought you said you wanted to prove yourself?”

You sneaky little bastard. “Not to this extent!”

“(Name), you're fine.” As if he to prove his point, his tongue swiped leisurely against your folds. You stiffened, feeling your face grow so fucking hot―was that a fucking piercing!? “Don't be scared. Or embarrassed if you're a virgin. I'll take good care of you.”

My brother in Christ you are a fucking lego character I'm more concerned on how either of us has the body part for thi―

MK's lips latched onto your puffy clit, sucking on the tender bundle of nerves. His hand gripped your thighs, holding you close while his fingers quickened and thrusted into your cunt, pressing against the soft spot that left your knees completely weak.

You didn't want to make any noise. You really didn't!

But when MK's tongue flicked your clit, the cold piercing a stark contrast against the warmth, and his mouth worked in rhythm with his fingers…

It wasn't your fault those noises slipped out. You mewled and pushed against him, gasping at the sensation.

You'd question how the fuck MK had a tongue piercing and experience in sex after you were finished.

If you remembered, that was.

MK's fingers suddenly pulled out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing. His tongued dragged languidly against your messy folds before he pulled away, your juices dribbling down his chin. He kept eye contact with you, propping his fingers between his lips to lick them clean…

Wtf…

“Okay! I think that's enough!” MK sat up abruptly and helped pulled off the rest of your clothing. You spluttered, trying to argue because of the very fun fact of you both being in public still, but apparently, the fucking Monkie Kid had no sense of shame or dignity. He simply flipped you onto your stomach, and your hands pulled behind your back and then tied with something…

Wait. “...did you just tie my wrists with your bandanna?”

“Yuh huh.” Gods, how could he sound so innocent after eating you out? “It's hot. I've always imagined tying you up with it, you know?”

You made a face at that. Did I also give him a bondage kink? Oh boy…

MK's chest pressed against yours, placing a chaste kiss to your cheek when he pushed himself inside you, causing you to burrow your face against the seats.

Fuck. I'm losing my fucking virginity to a cartoon character. Oh, isn't that fan-fucking-tastic. And he's fucking big, what the actual fuck. Why is he big? How does he even have a dick?? He's a LEGO.

Oh wait, this doesn't hurt that badly. Fucking fanfiction ass logic.

“(Name)?” You heard MK's voice filled with concern. “Do you want me to move? Or stop? We can stop―”

If your hands weren't tied behind your back, you knew for a fact you would be strangling him. There was no fucking way he got you into this situation only to fucking pussy out because of concern. You might be a virgin but you're no coward.

Probably.

“You can move.” You grumbled against your better judgement. “Just…be gentle.”

“I am gentle.” MK laughed in your ear. His lips pressed into another kiss against your temple, and his hips slowly rocked against yours, allowing you to adjust to the feeling. He pulled back slightly, just enough to snap his hips back in place in a slow thrust.

The first thing you thought was, Wow, this is weird.

Then you also thought, This really doesn't hurt as much as it should…

Maybe you were just weird, but MK huffing and moaning in your ear was…kinda hot, you wouldn't lie. Those whimper edit audios were tame in comparison to the noises he was making right now.

With your hands behind your back and tied, you couldn't do much but squirm in place with each of his thrusts. His hand pushed your head further against the leather seats, bottoming out fully against you. The wet sounds of his cock inside you filled the night air, and you had to muffle your own noises for your own dignity.

MK's pace quickly picked up speed, taking your muffled cried as a sign to keep going. His pelvis smacked against your ass, his cock stretching your walls and hitting angles you weren't even aware of and leaving you to drool against the seats of his tuktuk.

“You…you better promise not to leave me,” you heard MK mumble against you. “You can't leave me, okay? ‘cause you promised―” His cock kissed your cervix, making your toes curl and your pussy clench around him. “And you…you would keep your promises, right?”

You really needed your hands untied. “I do,” you promised, fighting back another moan. “‘promise not to make you cry again, ‘kay? Pinkie promi..mmph!”

MK angled your head back, slamming his lips against yours. His teeth grazed at your lower lip and sucked at your tongue, swallowing your cry when the strange feeling in your stomach snapped, cumming under his cock. His hips continued to snap against yours, each thrust feverish and driving you mad with stimulation.

It wasn't until MK had finally cum, collapsing on top of you on the seat, did he pull away from the kiss, and your brain return to normal.

How sticky…and your arms were beginning to ache from this position. You tried to turn on your side, but MK simply wrapped his arms around you and grumbled under his breath.

“Are you planning on leaving me again?” He asked, and you could practically hear the pout in his voice. How the fuck was he acting like the deflowered maiden here, when the one who just lost their virginity was you!?

“I…no.” You sighed, squirming in his hold. “My hands hurt though, so lemme go.”

“No.”

“....MK…”

“In a minute.”

“MK you came inside.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Fuck you mean oh yeah you tryna knock me up?”

“....”

“Oh my god I gave him a breeding kink too.”

“A what?”

“Nothing.”

@lotusarchon, 22.11.2024, all rights reserved. do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission. likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated!!

[mountttmase]

Not Your Fault

Note - i hope you’re all excited to meet the final bubba 🩷 a few guesses for the name were right but no one guessed the exact spelling 😂 I hope you love them as much as I do though and hopefully I’ll be able to write about them a bit more as we learn about their personality 😌 hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated 😘

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 6k

Warnings - fluff, smut, tiny bit of angst

Putting the kids to bed with Mason was never an easy task. Mason putting the kids to bed on his own was a recipe for disaster but right now there wasn't much the pair of you could do.

You could hear Mason trying to wrangle your two babies as you sat with your third in the nursery. Ollie trying his hardest to help Mason tame Tilly as she ran riot and you knew Mason was about to explode. You wondered if you should get up to help but Ryley was feeding peacefully in your arms and you didn’t want to disturb him.

‘Welcome to the mad house baby’ you whispered, stroking your finger along his perfect nose all the way down to the end before awkwardly reaching down to kiss his head. ‘You’ll get used to Tills, she’s just excited about you being here’

And she really was.

Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine you’d get pregnant so quickly after agreeing to try again and after your first two pregnancies you thought you knew your body well enough now to know when something had changed. Clearly that wasn’t the case though and it was actually Mason who figured it out first that were pregnant with a little help from Nala.

The kids were at school and Mason came home to find you cuddled up with Nala on the sofa. Her head and paws on your tummy as you scratched her head but as soon as he tried to cuddle you, Nala wasn’t having it. Growling at him when he tried to put his arms around you and pushing him away with her nose.

‘What’s crawled up her arse and died’ Mason laughed. Trying to snake his hands around your middle but Nala would fight him off every time until he gave up and grabbed your boob instead.

‘Mason? Do you mind’

‘Take it up with her, she’s hogging you’ he huffed but you just let it slide. You knew Mason needed to be holding something and if it was your boob then you’d just have to get on with it as he wouldn’t move off. You didn’t think anything of it though, you just knew Nala was protective and after you’d been cuddling for a while she was feeling territorial.

It was two days later that Mason caught you crying in the utility room. Half buried under all of the kids washing and the look of concern on his face just made you cry even harder. You’d been trying to get ontop of the cleaning all day and it the point you just felt overwhelmed.

‘Hey, what’s wrong sweetheart?’ He asked as he helped you up but you didn’t really have an answer for him. Trying to quieten your sobs but you could feel your bottom lip still wobbling as he looked at you softly.

‘Sorry Mase, I don’t even know why I’m crying’ you laughed as he wiped your eyes for you. ‘I’m just a bit emotional at the moment’ you told him and by the small sigh you knew he had something he wanted to say so you raised your eyebrow at him in hopes he’d speak.

‘Baby, you don’t think you might be…’

‘Drowning in washing?’ You laughed but the soft look on his face made you be quiet. He looked genuinely concerned but there was also something behind his eyes you couldn’t quite place.

‘No you wally… pregnant’

Pregnant? You didn’t think so at all. Apart from feeling more emotional than usual you didn’t have any other symptoms that you could think of and you wondered if Mason was just getting ahead of himself.

‘No I don’t think so Mase, I’d know if I was’ you told him but you watched his face soften as he cupped your jaw.

‘Well I know you too, and I think you are’ he teased. ‘You’re all emotional, you’re eating everything in sight and Nala suddenly won’t let me go near you’ he listed off and you blushed at the fact he’d clearly caught you snacking more than usual. ‘Maybe we should check? Just to rule it out’

‘I mean we can but it’ll just be a waste’ you laughed ‘We only started trying a month ago, Mase. I doubt it would have happened that quickly’

‘Don’t doubt my powers of fertility’ he laughed and even though you wanted to smile you were trying your hardest to keep a straight face.

‘You’re insane’ you huffed, grabbing his hand and taking him upstairs to your en-suite. You’d made sure to stock up on tests since you were now trying and you instructed him to wait on the bed while you took it.

‘There you go’ you smiled, walking out of the bathroom and handing him the capped test that was still loading. ‘What do you fancy for dinner? I’ll go get it started’ you told him as you made your way to the door but he grabbed your wrist to hold you in place, looking back at you like you’d lost your mind.

‘You’re not gonna wait?’

‘There's no point, it’ll be negative babe. Now what do you want?’ You told him, shrugging your shoulders as you really believe deep down that you had nothing to worry about as there was no way you were pregnant already.

‘You pick’ he told you quietly, and with a kiss to his forehead you made your way back downstairs and into the kitchen.

Mason was gone for a while, almost to the point where you were about to go and find him but he suddenly appeared in the doorway with his eyes full of tears and a soft smile on his face. You knew he would be upset that it was negative, knowing he wanted a third baby more than anything but you figured at least if he was smiling then he hadn’t taken it too hard.

You didn’t have a chance to say anything though, Mason coming straight over to you so he could cup your face and press gentle kisses over your cheeks which made you blush and your knees weak but you loved his gentle side and you let him shower with you affection.

Before you could reassure him everything would be fine and you had all the time in the world to try for baby number three, he pulled back to look at you and you were frozen in place as you knew what that look in his eye meant.

‘You’re pregnant baby’

‘What?’

‘You’re pregnant’ he laughed, kissing your cheeks again as you froze in his hold. Letting him continue to kiss your face and it’s like his words hadn’t hit you yet until he rested his forehead on top of yours.

‘You're lying’ you whispered, your bottom lip wobbling as your eyes started to burn but he just laughed at you. Reaching into his pocket to pull out the test so he could show you and there it was in black and white. The words pregnant staring you back in the face until you looked up into Masons happy ones. ‘We’re having a baby’

You burst into tears instantly as you fell into Mason's chest. Him holding you close to his body as he rocked you from side to side, letting you know it was okay and that he’d keep you safe, the both of you safe, and when you eventually pulled back he kissed your tears away.

‘I didn’t think it would be this quick, sorry it’s just a bit of a shock’ you laughed, trying to wrap your head around it as your stared back at the word pregnant.

‘It’s alright, baby. Are you feeling okay?’

‘I think so’ you laughed. Letting him grip the back of your thighs so he could place you on the counter and look him in the eye. ‘I just can’t believe it, like I don’t even know what to think’

‘Well It’s still early love, how about we keep it to ourselves for a little while and tell the kids when we’re certain everything’s okay’ he reassured you and you felt yourself relax at how calm and in control he was about everything. ‘We can tell the rest of the world after that when you’re ready but for now it’s just us yeah? You, me and Nala’ he joked before pulling you in for a well needed hug.

So you kept it to yourselves. Telling the kids after your 12 week scan and as soon as Tilly found out you were pregnant she’d barely left your side and was seemingly very quizzical about what was happening. You knew she wanted to come out and ask fully how it had happened but she kept it inside until one night when it was just the three of you.

Ollie was at a friend's house for dinner and after all of you had eaten, you were cuddled up on the sofa with Mason, Tilly nestled in between you. Her head on Mason's chest as you watched whatever was on the tv but soon enough Tilly was ready for a biology lesson.

‘Daddy, how did the baby get in mummy’s belly?’ she asked, her head tilting up to look at him but as soon as you looked up you could see the panic written all over his face.

‘Yeah, how did it happen, Mase?’ You teased wanting to know how he’d worm his way out of this one but you could see he was hating every second of this. Sending you a what the fuck face before looking back down at Tilly who was waiting patiently for him to explain.

‘Okay, so you know how you write a letter to Santa at Christmas?’ He started, Tilly nodding excitedly and you could see the cogs turning in his brain, wondering where the hell he was going with this but let him carry on. ‘Well, when two people who love each other very much want a baby, they write a letter to the stork and then you have to bury it in the garden so they can come and pick it up’

You could see Tilly wasn’t buying it, looking back at him in confusion and you yourself were waiting for what he had to say next.

‘But how?’

‘How what?’

‘His did they get into mummy’s belly’ he asked more firmly this time as Mason was quite clearly skirting around it but knowing Tilly she would ask and ask until she got her answer.

‘Well um… well then the stork, it comes back and uh… and it leaves a seed which is the baby… and uh, that goes in Mummy’s tummy’ he nodded, stuttering the whole way through as he was panicking but you were loving how flustered he was. Trying to hold in a laugh as you covered your mouth with your hand.

‘But how does the seed get in there?’ She persisted, watching Mason now try to hide a smile before his eyes flashed to yours and you knew he was about to say something he shouldn’t.

‘She swallows it’

‘Okay that’s enough for today’ you interrupted, pulling Tilly onto your lap ‘you need to go and pick Ollie up’ you told Mason with a slightly dissatisfied look on your face and he quickly kissed your forehead la with a smile before getting up. ‘Come on missy, let’s get you in the bath, yeah?’

‘Okay mummy,’ she smiled. Reaching over to give Mason a kiss on the cheek before making her way up the stairs and you promised her you’d be right up in a minute.

‘Right I won’t be long’ Mason laughed as he got up, reaching down to help pull you up with him but he must have caught the unimpressed look from you as he began to laugh at your expression. ‘What?’

‘You know what’ you laughed. ‘Maybe If I had swallowed we wouldn’t be in this state would we’

‘I love it when you talk dirty’ Mason laughed. Pulling you into him with his hand on your bum and he squeezed it as he kissed you heavily. ‘I’ll see you soon, maybe when the kids are in bed we can try-‘

‘Mason I swear to god’ you laughed, pulling away and tapping his chest before making a beeline for the stairs but the sound of his giggles as he made his way out the door made you giggle along too.

Things took a turn at the gender reveal though. The four of you not doing anything extravagant but you knew you wanted the kids involved so after you scan you gave your bestie Sid an envelope with the gender inside so she could organise a cake and the next day you were all sat around the kitchen island with wine glasses in hand ready to sink them into the cake and you couldn’t be more excited.

Mason and Ollie didn’t care what the gender was, as did you, but Tilly was gunning for a baby sister. Having already picked out some toys for her to have and she constantly referred to the baby as she. You knew there would be a meltdown if she didn’t get her way but you were trying to distract her as best you could.

‘Okay, are we ready?’ you laughed, popping your hand on Tilly’s glass to help her push down into the cake and after the count of three you shut your eyes and pushed down on both until you hit the board.

It was Tilly crying no that made you realise what had happened. Looking round to see everyone’s glass filled with the blue frosting from the inside of the cake but Tilly’s wails wouldn’t let you enjoy your time just yet.

Mason was trying his hardest to contain his laughter and when you pulled Tilly into a hug to console her, he wrapped his arms around the pair of you whilst Ollie just grabbed a fork and began to dig into his cake.

‘Tilly baby, it’s okay’ you tried to reassure her, holding your laughs in as best you could but she just cried harder.

‘I don’t like boys’ she sobbed into your neck as she held you tight and as much as Mason looked like he was about to lose it, he peeled Tilly away from you and began to talk to her quietly. Eventually taking her out into the garden where you could see him swaying her from side to side as he spoke into the side of her head and eventually she was nodding her head and wiping her eyes

You joined Ollie though, accepting the fork he passed you so you could dig in too while you spoke about the new baby boy on the way and Ollie was very quick to reassure you how excited he was and how much he wanted to help out.

‘Okay, I think we’re on board now’ Mason announced as he walked back in with Tilly on his hip. A smile on her face but her eyes were still red and watery so Mason sat her on the side so you could feed her some cake.

‘Tilly, my new book came today. Shall I read to you for a bit?’ Ollie asked, your heart melting at the way he wanted to cheer her up as Ollie reading to her was their thing. Whenever Tilly was on mad one or overwhelmed he’d often take her over to their little corner to calm down and your heart felt full as she toddled off with her hand in his.

‘So, another boy huh?’ Mason smiled as he came over to you. Resting his hands on your waist as you rested yours on his chest and you were thankful for a little bit of alone time with him.

‘Looks like it. And after two clones of you I’m hoping this one looks a little bit like me’ you told him before he kissed your forehead with a giggle.

‘Are you happy?’

‘Of course, as long as he's healthy I couldn’t care what they are,’ you told him softly and he nodded his head in agreement. ‘What did you say to Tilly?’

‘Told her it’s another boy to boss around. And that if she’s the only girl then she’ll always be my only princess’

‘What about me?’ you pouted, watching Mason roll his eyes but he was leaning down to kiss you just after.

You’d picked a few names out, but just like you’d done with Tilly you wanted to see him before you named him and once you had, the name Ryley seemed to fit him like a glove. Whilst you could tell he was Mason's boy you were constantly told how much he looked like you and it made your heart swell whenever you looked at him.

Tilly also came around as soon as she saw him. Almost bursting into tears at the way her little face softened at the sight of her new brother before she was looking up at you for permission to say hello to him and Ollie was just as perfect as ever with him.

A new baby meant a whole new routine though and lately it meant Ryleys feed came at bed time so Mason had to put the others to bed on his own. Usually he’d love this but clearly the novelty has worn off for Tilly and she was making it as difficult for him as possible.

Soon enough the noise died down. Mason telling Tilly that Ryley won’t want to stay with us if she’s too loud and she finally took the hint and got into bed. Letting Mason read her a very quick story before he went and said goodnight to Ollie with the house falling silent once more.

You felt Mason pop his head into the nursery soon after, his eyes and facial expression soft as he took you in but he couldn’t hide the deep blush on his cheeks. Eyes flicking down to your exposed chest as you fed Ryley and you could see he was debating whether or not he should come in but you nodded your head to motion for him to come over. Watching him carefully make his way over to the pair of you and when he was close enough you lifted your head in hopes he’d lean down and kiss you. Revealing in the feeling of his lips brushing against yours softly and you hummed in delight just before he pulled away.

‘You two alright in here?’ He asked quietly, crouching down so he could kiss Ryley’s head. Your heart fluttering at the adoring way he looked down at him before his gaze was locked on yours.

‘We’re okay. Are you okay?’ You laughed, referring to the nightmare he seemed to have just had with the others and you smiled as he rolled his eyes playfully.

‘Oh you heard that yeah?’ He laughed. ‘Unless you put Tilly to bed she’s a right pain in the arse’ he teased. ‘I love her but my god she’s a handful sometimes’

‘They don’t call her Tilly the tiny terror for nothing’ you winked. ‘You done good though sweet cheeks’

‘Thanks’ he laughed, rolling his eyes again. ‘I’m gonna go sort myself out but I’ll see you in our room in a bit, yeah? Take your time’

‘Okay’ you whispered and with one last heavy kiss to your lips he was making his way out.

You sat Ryley up not too long after so you could wind him. Knowing Mason hadn’t really got to see him all that much today and he’d be itching for a cuddle soon so you made your way back across the hall to your bedroom for some time for just the three of you.

You didn’t questione why the door to your bedroom was shut even though maybe you should have. He never usually shut it as it was harder for you to open with just one hand whilst carrying Ryley and you always kept it open just in case one of the kids needed you but you just shifted Ryley on your chest so he was over your left shoulder and pushed the door open.

You should have known there was a reason why he shut it. Walking around to be met with the sound of his loud breathing and when you rounded the corner and into his view you were shocked by the sight in front of you.

There he was laid on the bed, T-shirt riding high on his perfect body as his boxers had been shuffled down his thighs ever so slightly to free himself and even from the split second view you knew what he was doing as his hand moved up and down. A shocked gasp falling from your lips before you turned and you heard mason fumbling behind you.

‘Shit! Oh god, oh god no’

‘Mase, it’s okay’ you told him, slightly chuckling as you turned back around to face him but the look on his face made your heart drop.

His cheeks were redder than you’d ever seen them, a humiliated look plastered across his face no matter how much he tried to hide it and he looked on the brink of tears.

‘Masey, no don’t get upset it’s alright’

‘I need the bathroom-’

‘No wait’ you called, popping Ryley into his crib as quickly as you could before rushing over to him to stop him from hiding away in the en-suite for the rest of the night and thankfully you caught him before he was able to shut the door. ‘Come here baby, come and talk to me’

‘No I-‘

‘Mase, come on’ you interrupted, pulling him back to bed so you could sit on the edge with him in hopes he’d look at you. He was determined to keep looking down though so in the end you just held him tight and spoke into his hair. ‘It’s okay, you don’t need to be embarrassed or anything. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before’

‘I thought I had more time’ he told you. Holding you tighter but you hated how down he sounded.

‘Look at me’ you whispered, letting him take his own time to gather himself before looking up at you shyly. ‘You don’t need to be embarrassed, it’s perfectly normal’

‘I know I just… it’s still embarrassing’ he laughed. ‘I feel like a teenager who’s just been caught. I just thought you’d be a bit longer with the little man and I’d have time. I haven’t wanted to ask for… you know. I wanted to wait until you’re ready and-‘

‘Who said I’m not ready’ you smiled. ‘I gave birth 8 weeks ago now so that’s two weeks over’

‘I know’ he smiled. I’m just worried that’s all’

‘Worried about what?’

‘I don’t wanna hurt you’ he whispered and your heart broke at his sad face. ‘Remember what happened after Tilly?’ He asked and you nodded solemnly.

It had been six weeks since Tilly had been born and you knew Mason was chomping at the bit to have you. You were too big and uncomfortable towards the end of your pregnancy so it had been months since you’d last been intimate and it was almost as if Mason was counting down the days.

Your night didn’t go as planned though. Unbenounced to you, you still weren’t fully ready and even though Mason had been gentle with you and you’d tried to push through it, it hurt too much and you’d ended up bursting into tears.

Mason felt awful, almost in tears himself as he tried to comfort you but you knew he was blaming himself when he shouldn’t be. In the end you took his face in your hands so you could pepper his cheeks with kisses but your heart was breaking as he repeatedly told you how sorry he was.

‘Masey it’s not your fault’ you told him quietly, but he wasn’t having any of it. Hiding his head into your neck for the rest of the night until the pair of you eventually fell asleep.

He was quiet with you but extra soft for a few days until you could talk it out and let him know it wasn’t his fault. You just had to wait an extra few weeks and everything would go back to normal.

You could see it in his eyes now that he was frightened so you pulled him closer and cupped his jaw so you could look at each other properly.

‘Tilly had a massive head baby’ you laughed. ‘She was a right pain to get out but I don’t feel like I did with Tilly. Ryley was a breeze compared to her and I’m all healed up now. There’s nothing to be afraid of’

‘Yeah?’ He smiled. His body relaxing in your arms as you reassured him everything was okay and the small smile on his lips made you feel a lot better.

‘Yeah, of course. In fact… what do you say we pop Ryley in his nursery for a bit so we can have some time for just us’

‘Wait, what?’ He whispered, his face looking slightly shocked but in all honestly your been craving some alone time with Mason yourself. ‘Are you sure?’

‘100%, Just give me a sec and I’ll be back’ you told him. Slightly untangling yourself from him so you could pick up Ryley and take him over to his nursery. You never left him in here at night but he had his naps in here all the time so you made sure the baby cam was set up properly before dropping a kiss on his head. ‘I’ll be back for you soon, little one. Just keep sleeping for me’ you whispered. Taking one last look before making your way back to Mason.

He was sitting on the bed facing the door when you got back and a sudden wave of anxiety rolled over you as soon as you shut the door. Your body had changed so much since he’d last seen it and you knew you were covered in stretch marks and still sagging in certain places so when he pulled you in between his legs you tried not to look him in the eye.

‘Baby? Everything alright?’ He asked, fingers delicately tracing the backs of your thighs and you just nodded and you pulled him into a hug.

‘I’m okay, just nervous’ you laughed awkwardly. ‘It’s been a while’

‘I know, love. We can go as slowly as you want to though, yeah?’

‘I know’ you smiled, kissing his forehead gently but he could still read your mind and sense how apprehensive you were.

‘And I don’t care what you think your body looks like now. You know that don’t you? I love you and I just wanna make you feel good’

‘I know, Mase’ you smiled, eyes filling at his sweet words. He’d said the same after both your other babies had been born but the words still hit you deep. You didn’t look like you used you, three babies would have an effect on anyone but Mason never cared. He took you as you were and only cared about looking after you, telling you you’d given him everything he’d ever wanted and he’d make sure he looked after you in whatever way you needed.

His hands were trailing all over your bare legs, touching wherever he could as his lips pressed kisses to your chest and you couldn’t help but giggle as he finally got to touch all the places he’d missed for the last few months.

‘What’s so funny?’ He smiled, pinching your bum gently as you steadied yourself but his cheeky smile was melting you.

‘We’ve been together for so many years now, had three kids together and you’re still as horny as ever’ you chuckled, wanting him to know how ridiculous you found him but deep down you knew you were just as bad.

‘That’s what happens when you’ve got the most beautiful wife in the world’ he told you. ‘You know I’ll never not want you. Even when we’re grey and wrinkly I’ll still think you’re hot as fuck’

‘If you’re trying to get me in the mood, talking about old people probably won’t help’ you told him, kneeling onto the mattress and his light laugh made you smile.

‘Noted’ he winked, shuffling back and inviting you to lay with him and once you were next to him he laid you back gently and kissed you with as much passion as he could muster.

He kissed you until you felt dizzy, your hands gripping at him where you could and when when you moaned into his mouth he rolled ontop on you so he could look directly down at you.

‘What do you want baby? You want my fingers?’

‘Mhmmm’

‘Yeah? You don’t sound so sure’ he teased but before you could protest he was talking again. ‘I think I know what you really want’

‘What’s that?’

‘You want my mouth, don’t you?’ He whispered lowly into you ear. The sound making you shiver and a gasp to fall from your lip at the sound of his dirty words. ‘Thought so’ he chuckled and before you knew it he was kissing down your neck as he grabbed the hem of your shirt.

You knew it was just Mason and he loved you no matter what, so you let him remove all your clothes as he placed kisses to your exposed skin. Pushing any nervous thoughts out of your head so on you could enjoy the feel of him again.

As soon as his lips touched where they needed to you felt yourself melt. Feeling like you were floating on clouds as he reminded you what you’d been missing out on for months as you tried your hardest to keep your moans at bay and not wake anyone. He made it difficult though. Getting back into the rhythm of things like he’d never been away and soon enough your fingers were getting tangled in his hair as he pushed you over the finish line.

‘Stop biting your lip, I wanna do that’ he laughed, as he made his way back up to your face. Kissing you so you could taste yourself and you let out quiet moan as he gently sunk his teeth into your bottom lip.

‘I’m trying to be quiet’ you laughed, lips against his as you spoke before he stole another kiss from you. Knowing he was ready and raring to go.

‘What do you want now baby?’

‘I want you. All of you,’ you told him. Watching a slight nervousness flicker through him and you wanted to reassure him straight away. Gripping the back of his neck so you could tug him back down for a kiss and as he got into it you began to undress him until you were both naked and needy for each other.

You knew he was watching you the whole time as he pushed his way inside of you. Your face contorting in pleasure as he took his time before bending down to press gentle kisses over your face.

‘Is that okay?’ He whispered, moving his hips slowly so you could adjust to him but you were already seeing stars after not feeling him for so long and all you could muster was a nod. ‘Yeah?’ Breathed, a sense of relief laced through his voice and you nodded as you tried to reassure him further.

‘Yes masey, keep doing that’ you moaned, louder than you’d intended to but it all felt so intense and you knew mason was feeling it too.

‘Should I slow down?’

‘No, just like that’ you sighed. Reaching up to grab his shoulders so you had something to steady yourself but also because you wanted to feel his skin under yours.

‘You wonder why I still can’t keep my hands off of you?’ He moaned, pulling up so he could hold you at your waist and take a bit more control. ‘Fucking look at you, you’re unreal’

‘Mase-‘

‘I know gorgeous. I’m with you, just let go for me’ he told you and you did exactly as he said. Letting him coax you through it until you were spent and he was flopping down gently next to you.

Sometimes you felt like this was your favourite bit. Laying skin to skin with your man as he gently stroked your back and you couldn’t help but nuzzle into him more as you made every second count. You’d missed these moments with him and from the way he was holding you close you knew he’d missed it too.

‘You okay?’ He whispered after a while. Feeling your eyes growing heavier as he lulled you to sleep but you looked up at him with a soft smile as he kissed your nose.

‘I’m perfect’

‘I didn’t hurt you at all did I?’ He questioned quietly but you shook your head so he knew you were fine straight away.

‘I promise you, I’m absolutely fine’ you told him. Pecking his lips softly before sighing. ‘I’m so comfy but I need to go and get Ryley. I don’t like leaving him in there alone for too long’

‘Stay there, okay? I’ll go get little man’ he reassured you. Kissing your head gently before untangling himself from you so he could get dressed and grab your boy.

You got dressed too whilst he was gone and you were just pulling your top over your head as he walked back in with Ryley cuddled into his chest. Your heart thumping at the way they were together and no matter when or where, watching Mason with a tiny human always made your knees weak.

‘Come on boys, mumma needs a cuddle’ you laughed. Jumping up onto the bed and letting Mason pass you Ryley before he laid next to you. His head on your chest as Ryley laid on the other side and you couldn’t stop yourself from looking down at Mason and seeing how happy he was to have some time with Ryley. ‘You okay, Mase?’

‘I’m better than okay’ he smiled, reaching up to give you a quick peck before nuzzling back down into your neck. ‘Thank you for everything, I never thought I could be this happy’

You didn’t have the words for him. Your eyes filling with tears as you kissed his temple but inside you were agreeing with him wholeheartedly. You too never thought you could ever be this happy but as you thought about where you were right now and who you were with, you knew right now your life and your family were complete.

Thank you so much for reading 🩷 I really hoped you enjoyed it and I’d love if you could leave me some feedback if you fancy it 😘

[cheegu3]

Ｄｏｏｒ Ｌｏｃｋ

pairing; f.m reader x jungkook (ft. ryujin from itzy) genre; yandere, thriller, guessing game summary; ever since you had an encounter with a creepy man at your job, you started waking up feeling like things were off, after some time you start suspecting that you're not alone at night in your apartment, but the man from your job isn't the only one with questionable motives, can you guess who your stalker is? warnings; yandere themes, stalking, obsessive / unhealthy love, drugging, swearing, drinking, paranoia

wc; 6k note; based on the movie Door Lock (although not all events are exactly the same) - I wanted to try writing smth a little different than usual

'' Do you want me to walk you home? ''

'' Oh, come on! '' you sighed and rolled your eyes. '' I'm not a kid, my apartment's just around the corner. ''

Your friend, Ryujin, didn't look very happy with your answer. Her lips pursed, causing a dissatisfied look to form on her face. She crossed her arms and shook her head.

'' You're always so stubborn. ''

Ryujin only received a shrug in response as you had already started turning away from her, making up your mind a long time ago. She'd always say these things after the two of you had a late night out drinking.

And she'd always get turned down by her friend who thought she worried too much. Every time, you would arrive safely at your apartment, without anyone even following you or giving you a glance.

'' It went fine last week, Ryujin. Nothing will happen to me, it never does. ''

She scoffed dryly, '' I swear one day you're going to regret saying that, y/n. ''

'' Maybe, but not today! '' you cheerfully shouted to her when you had created some distance.

'' Text me when you get home at least! ''

You waved her off. The walk home was short because Ryujin always chose restaurants or bars near your apartment. It was around the corner and up the long stairs.

You always complained loudly about the stairs. Arriving home drenched in sweat and panting wasn't exactly ideal. But it was by far the least horrid thing about the route to your apartment.

The reason your friend was worried every time you walked home alone was mainly because the hill had no lights; it was pitch black, except for small splotches of light that came from the hill houses' outdoor lights.

It also had no CCTV so if anyone were to try something in the dark, no one would likely notice.

However, you had long accepted it. It was almost a given when the rent was so cheap, and you couldn't complain about the view. Since it was at the top of the hill, it faced downtown and often had beautiful sunsets.

On this night there wasn't a sunset in sight because it had long passed. The city was asleep, with only cicadas echoing up the hill.

About halfway up, you stopped to squint. Was that someone standing at the top? No - you must've imagined it.

You kept walking but occasionally glanced at the top from time to time. What you thought you saw had disappeared and when you finally reached the spot it was in, you were fully convinced your mind had played tricks on you.

The security guard greeted you when he saw you entering the building. You gave him a curt nod and hurried on, desperate to sleep in the comfort of your bed.

At your door, something felt off. Your eyebrows knit together as you crouched to look at the keypad. Had you really forgotten to close it this morning? You could've sworn you did.

You pressed the code and then wiped the screen with the sleeve of your shirt. It soon became forgotten when you stepped inside your apartment. The alcohol seemed to have clouded your mind on top of your senses.

With a yawn, you flopped down on the bed and fell fast asleep without changing, brushing your teeth, or getting under the covers.

You woke up with a terrible headache pounding your head. A groan slipped past your dry lips as you forced yourself to get up. Your whole world started spinning and you had to sit down to ground yourself.

Bile rose in your throat. You ran to the bathroom and managed to open the seat just in time for last night's pleasures to come out.

You felt confused again. Was it age that was starting to creep up on you? You didn't get hangovers very often, no matter how much you drank.

Resting against the tile wall behind, you let the cold cool your scorching skin. You knew you still had to go to work since you couldn't risk getting fired.

Slowly you peeled yourself off from the wall and started heading out after getting dressed. It was still relatively dark out, the winter sun rising on the horizon, but it was nowhere near as terrifying as when going home in the complete dark at night. That was a different type of darkness, a lonely one, which seemed to bring out the worst kinds of people lurking in the dark.

At work, your nice colleague greeted you with her usual cheery smile. She whispered that she had covered for you being late so no one had noticed.

With a grateful smile, you sat down in your spot and got ready to meet customers. Lately, you had noticed that your colleagues who were extra nice; smiling and almost touching the customers, would have more people go to their booths; so today, you were determined to put on your best fake polite smile and maybe you could get a permanent contract.

'' Number 29, please come to booth 4. ''

You saw a man stir in the crowd, hesitating, which made you internally sigh. You hadn't been very lucky with your booth number, that was yet another reason your performance always got criticized by your boss.

Sternly you leaned over the mic again, '' Number 29, please come forward. ''

The man finally gave up and walked over. When he sat down he looked both nervous and slightly uncomfortable. However, your warm smile made him loosen up.

'' Welcome. How can I help you today? ''

'' I would like to create an account. ''

You nodded and typed in the information. While working, you noticed his eyes on you, so you decided to strike up some small talk.

'' You live in Seongnam too? ''

The man's eyes widened, '' Yes...Do you live there? ''

'' I do, '' you chuckled, looking him right in the eyes now.

The intimate eye contact, coupled with your smile made him blush visibly. He looked away. Silence filled the space as you finished the last few things and showed him the screen. You gave him some necessary information, before handing him back his ID.

'' Maybe we can go out for coffee sometime? '' he mumbled after you were done talking and were ready to call the next customer.

He was handsome, there was no denying that, and he was definitely your type, with a bad boy appearance. He reminded you of your manager that you'd been crushing on and the cute new security guard at your apartment.

But it was unprofessional and you felt rather creeped out to be asked on a date at your job, especially in such an upfront way after you talked about where you lived.

'' Sorry, I can't do that. I'm working right now. ''

The man's smile faded, his eyes darkened and narrowed as he tilted his head, like he was unsure if he'd heard you correctly. '' I can take you out after. ''

Staring at him speechless, you wondered if the shy act he'd put on earlier was just that - an act. The man in front of you now didn't show any signs of being shy, quiet, nervous, or polite. He screamed of danger.

'' I- ''

'' You fucking whore! '' he cut you off screaming and catching the attention of everyone in the bank.

'' You flirted with me first, '' he started to his feet and began banging on the protective shield.

You jumped back, heart in your throat as you stammered. You couldn't get out a single word.

He tried reaching his arm in through the small gap and managed to pull you towards the shield. A scream ripped from your throat.

'' Security! '' you heard your manager shout.

You felt your arm be released just a few seconds later and you pulled away, breathing heavily. Even as he was being escorted away he kept screaming the same things, and creepily never taking his eyes off of you.

Red marks had formed where you were grabbed and you groaned when rubbing them. In the corner of your eye, you saw your manager approach so you quickly tried putting your arm under the table.

He saw it and grabbed it before you could do so. With a disappointed tick of his tongue, he inspected it and then freed you.

'' What a crazy asshole. ''

The shock had slowly started dissipating, '' Thank you. ''

'' No need to thank me, just call on me whenever you need. ''

You smiled awkwardly and bowed. Your manager left and the rest of the day went smooth sailing. Midday, you went for lunch with your coworker and Ryujin but you had a strange feeling in your stomach, like you were being watched.

It gnawed inside you, making it impossible to eat again. You put down your chopsticks and went back to work. Thankfully, after that, the thought was forced to the back of your mind due to how busy it was. You were pretty successful during the afternoon; making many customers satisfied as well as your boss, so you walked out at the end of the day with a small smile playing on your lips, despite the incident during the early hours.

'' Hey. ''

You froze in your steps. That voice, it sounded a lot like the man from before. You turned around very slowly, praying that you'd been mistaken.

The color drained off of your face when you faced him, it had been like you thought. The man from earlier was standing there, leaning back against the bus stop with a shit-eating grin on his face.

'' You have no idea how long I've waited for you. ''

Words got stuck in your dry throat. Your eyes started searching for help, but no one was around. Meanwhile, you could see how the man had started stalking towards you.

'' Why aren't you responding? You rude bit- ''

His hand caught your wrist in that painfully strong grip again and you yelped, flinging your arms around to escape him which had no effect at all; he just pulled you towards him, whipped you around, and hugged you from behind.

Suddenly, the grip loosened and you were pushed out of the way, almost knocking you over. You raised your head slowly.

The man was caught in a chokehold by your manager and couldn't get a word out, despite trying very hard to when he saw you move in the background.

You stared back at him, but after a few seconds, your eyes started flicking towards your manager's back instead. The man seemed to be losing consciousness and you started to feel anxious; this much violence wasn't necessary at all.

Without a word, you pulled your manager's hands away from the man who fell to the ground clutching his throat and coughing weakly.

'' I'm okay, '' you blurted out when he turned to you with a puzzled, almost angry look.

His frown disappeared and he seemingly accepted your answer. You let yourself be led towards his car and got in as you felt like your manager was someone you could trust. He had saved you twice now after all.

The whole ride, he talked about self-defense techniques; urging you to go to classes in the city and telling you about different weapons you could use. He also told you firmly that he'd file a police report for harassment and stalking since it was his job as a manager to keep his employees safe.

You only half-heartedly listened, feeling more zoned out the closer you got to the apartment building. The long day had made you incredibly tired, causing you to look forward to just going to sleep.

'' Take this, '' he concluded the rant right when the car pulled into the parking lot.

'' What is it? ''

'' It's a small pocket knife. ''

You frowned, '' That's illegal. ''

'' So? You'll be sorry if you get attacked and don't have it. ''

You hesitated for another moment. He grabbed your wrist and put it into your hand, closing it as if to say there'd be no further protest about the matter.

With a sigh, you gave up. Your manager parked the car and stepped out at the same time you did. He watched you as you went towards the entrance with one hand propped up on the roof of the car.

'' Do you need a ride tomorrow? ''

'' I'll be fine. Thank you, again, for- everything. ''

'' No problem, always glad to help. ''

And with that, he got back in the car and started it just as you opened the entrance door. You basked in the warmth that embraced you as soon as you entered the lobby.

The security guard who usually sat at the desk was nowhere to be seen. A smile shot to your lips. He was probably carrying up packages for the residents again, even though he wasn't allowed up there.

You glanced at his desk and something caught your attention. A very large package sat right on the edge of it, looking homemade with its messy taping and rough surface.

It intrigued you so you got closer. Your hand brushed along the material, eyes following it up all the way to the top where a small, white, paper square had been taped on.

' For: y/n '

You let out a small gasp. There was nothing else on the note, no other name or even address. Whoever sent it must've gone straight here instead of sending it through the mail.

With shaky hands, you used a cardboard knife cutter that was on the desk to cut the package open. Inside you saw a lone, small teddy bear. It was new, untouched, and had perfectly spot-free white fur.

You noticed it was holding a broken heart and it had a gloomy, melancholy expression on its face. While shoving your hand in to try and find if there was anything under the styrofoam, a sudden sound behind you made you jump.

'' Hey. ''

Recognizing the voice and placing it as belonging to the security guard, you visibly relaxed and turned around to face him.

'' You scared me. ''

'' Sorry about that. Ah, '' his eyes shifted to the package. '' you've opened it already. What was in it? ''

You waved the teddy bear in the air. '' Not much. Did you see who dropped it off? ''

'' It was just a regular delivery driver. He told me he'd been given it by some man the day before. ''

'' That's weird, '' you trailed off, mind already trying to come up with possible suspects.

For some reason, the dark staircase intruded your thoughts and in an instant, your focus shifted. Slowly your feet moved on their own until you were outside the building again.

The wind kissed your cheek and went past you, swirling down the steps. Your head turned with it. Just like the day before, it was dark, with only the scarce, dimly lit lamps illuminating spots here and there.

You weren't sure why you came out here. Had you expected to somehow spot the perpetrator in the dark, lurking while waiting for your reaction to opening the package?

One thing was for sure though, the gut feeling from before returned once again when you were at the staircase. That ominous, unexplainable feeling, of being watched.

The chill in the wind made you get back in as goosebumps littered your skin.

'' Did you see someone? ''

'' No, it's just...nothing. ''

You didn't feel like you were in the mood to explain and the security guard was thankfully exceptionally good at reading people, so he only smiled and bid goodnight.

In the dark of your own apartment, you lay for only a few minutes, aimlessly staring into the ceiling before it was interrupted by a rapt knock on your door. The sleepiness from before had disappeared since the new mystery had almost put you in a vigilant and paranoid state so you sprung up on your feet and opened it without any hesitation.

'' Sorry. You forgot this, '' it was your manager again, waving your wallet in the air.

'' Oh my god, I'm sorry. I feel like a burden now. ''

He laughed, '' It's fine. I noticed it almost right away. ''

You still felt bad even though he shook it off. Maybe you could invite him inside and offer tea or coffee for politeness; it was something you'd always seen your mom do when work on the house took a lot longer and the servicemen looked tired.

'' Would you like to come inside for a moment? I have coffee and tea. ''

'' I think I can spare a few minutes tea would be nice, '' he said, flashing a charming smile.

You returned it and then stepped aside so he could come in. He took a seat at your table next while you put the kettle on. An attempt at small talk was then made after silence briefly filled the space.

'' That guy will be banned from the bank, I'll see to it myself. You'll never have to worry about him again. ''

You sighed, '' Thank you, I don't know how I could ever pay you back, sir. ''

His eyes twinkled. Standing up he approached the door to the bathroom and pointed to it.

'' Can I use your bathroom? ''

'' Of course. ''

You went over to the kettle to see if it was almost ready. The sound of its hissing filled your ears. He took a long time in there and gave you room for your mind to wander off again.

He had found you quite quickly after you dropped your wallet and left the car. You stared at the door. Just as the door lock to the bathroom clicked, another thought struck you, this one much worse - How did he know where you lived?

Click

The door pushed open dramatically slow. Your manager stepped out and immediately locked eyes with you, he must've sensed something was wrong because he frowned.

His lips separated, but no words came out. He was left standing there, baffled, when you sprinted out of the apartment. You didn't stop until you reached the front desk.

'' Please call the police! ''

The security guard was startled by your entrance and jumped on his feet. '' What! Why? ''

'' My stalker is here, '' you waved your hands around, '' The one who gave me that package. ''

Things seemed to click in his head. He didn't question you further, instead calling the police and pulling you towards him protectively while you waited.

They arrived a lot quicker than you'd anticipated, which meant that only a few minutes had passed when your manager made his way downstairs after the shock had settled.

'' Why did you run? '' he questioned you.

You didn't answer and turned your head as if he was invisible. The security guard placed himself between you and your manager while the police led him out. He hadn't even been surprised they got called, it was like he was expecting them. You watched as they drove away with him in the back and sighed in relief.

'' Finally '' you mumbled to yourself, '' It's over. ''

The security guard smiled warmly at you which reminded you that you needed to thank him for his kindness.

'' I don't know how I could ever repay you for everything you've done for me. ''

He laughed, '' Don't worry about it. It's my job, and I'm just happy that you're safe. ''

'' Still, if it weren't for you I- '' you stopped, feeling yourself choking on tears as your mind imagined all possible endings.

He gave your shoulder a squeeze and looked at you sympathetically. Sensing that you needed some time to yourself, he then left to go talk to one of the remaining officers.

Long after they had all left and the commotion from the clamoring, nosey neighbors had settled, the feeling remained. It was hard going to sleep that night with your mind racing so much.

Despite that, you got ready and forced yourself to sleep, knowing that after some time you'd fall asleep naturally. You closed your eyes and daydreamed, occasionally taking a sip of the bottle of water next to your bed until falling into a deep slumber.

The next morning, you awoke with a pounding head yet again. Sitting up slowly you groaned and clutched it while your eyes looked around your apartment.

Something felt off.

You blamed the headache on stress and it causing you to not drink enough water, but you couldn't shake the feeling that the paranoia arose in you, the suspicion that someone had been inside your apartment.

'' That's nonsense, '' you sleepily mumbled to yourself.

One more yawn later and you managed to stand up, although with some difficulty. Inside the bathroom, you began to start your usual morning routine when your suspicions got closer to being confirmed.

On top of the toilet stood the roll of toilet paper. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary at first, it was in the same space it always was. However, on further inspection, the material was wet with a slight imprint of fingers.

You couldn't shake this off as a mere coincidence. All logical explanations were immediately ruled out - you hadn't showered before going to bed and the mark was so new, it wouldn't even have been left if you did go to the bathroom during the night. That was the thing, you didn't.

Freaked out of your mind, you did the first thing you could think of - leave the apartment.

With trembling hands, you managed to get your phone out while stumbling down the stairs. You called Ryujin who picked up almost immediately.

'' Y/n, you're late again! The boss is freaking out. ''

'' Sorry, I- '' you shook your pulsating head.

It was making you feel disoriented so words were formed a lot slower as your mind worked twice as slow.

'' Can you cover for me? I don't think I can come to work today actually. ''

'' What why? '' when she heard the uneasy tone in your voice, she paused. '' Did something happen? ''

'' I'll tell you later. ''

'' Okay, '' she worriedly agreed.

You had originally planned on going to work, but the events from the day before; as well as you convincing yourself that your stalker was waiting for you outside, made you reconsider.

On the short walk back to your apartment after you went to buy some food, you bumped into the security guard again.

'' Are you okay? ''

You turned around, quickly fixing your expression when you realized you must've looked erratic. '' Huh? ''

'' Did...something happen? ''

'' No. I'm okay. ''

You hurried to move on and get to your apartment. The silence inside when the door locked was deafening. A few seconds passed, then you turned all the lights on.

A kitchen knife was the weapon of choice as you navigated yourself through the apartment, checking every crook in it. You opened the door to your bedroom and bathroom with some hesitancy, only to find it completely empty, and just as you'd left them.

No one was hiding in your closet either, or under your couch, so you relaxed as you fell back on your bed again, exhausted from the stress and paranoia that was eating you up inside.

It must have been midday when you woke up again. It felt like it had been a long time since you left the building and actually went further than the corner shop.

Aimlessly you walked with a slight hurry to your steps, down the steep staircase, and into the center of the square where you hailed a cab.

Since the day before, you felt like you wanted to visit the police station. You needed to make sure the stalker had been caught and that it was just your mind playing tricks on you because you'd been so shaken up.

Thankfully it wasn't busy so you managed to get a hold of an officer at the desk right away.

'' Hey. How can I help you? ''

'' I'm wondering about someone you have in custody. I'm looking for someone and I want to see them. ''

'' Are you a family member? ''

'' No, is that okay? ''

'' State your relation to the person and who you want to see. ''

You filled in a form and then followed the lady at the reception as she led you through the maze that was the police station. The manager's eyes widened when he spotted you, and despite being warned by the guard not to, he started on his feet and grabbed the bars.

'' Y/n! Please tell them it was a misunderstanding. ''

Your lips thinned. '' I can't, because I'm not so sure it is. ''

He stared at you bewilderedly while incoherent words left his mouth until he finally turned his attention to the guard as an idea popped into his disoriented head.

'' Are you allowed to show her that I filed a report? ''

'' No sir. I can only confirm. ''

'' So you confirm that I filed a police report last night against the actual stalker and harasser of this lady? ''

'' I confirm you filed a report, '' the officer grumbled.

'' Why? ''

Your manager sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

'' Because I'm not the man who has been stalking you! ''

'' How can I trust you? ''

For whatever reason, he hesitated which made alarm bells ring in your ears. You weren't sure you'd believe anything he'd say from then on, it all seemed very planned and rehearsed.

'' Look. I got your room number from the security guard, I asked him where you lived since I needed to give you the wallet back. ''

You shook your head and backed away from the bars. '' No, I don't believe you. Ever since I joined the company you've always been there, ready to protect me, coming out of nowhere to pretend to be my hero. But you're the one pulling the strings behind the scenes! You are my stalker. ''

You directed your attention to the officer again. '' Have you got enough evidence to keep him longer? ''

The ticking of the large clock right above your head made you aware of the fact that they'd have to release him out of custody unless they had compelling evidence.

'' No ma'am. The DNA test results will arrive in a week. ''

You released a shaky breath and raised both your hands as if trying to grasp something invisible to ground yourself.

'' Okay, okay, '' you mumbled under your breath.

'' The other possible suspect will be arrested tonight. If you'd like, we can escort you back home safely. ''

'' Yes please, I'd appreciate that. ''

If you stayed inside for a week, which was slightly inconvenient but manageable nonetheless, then maybe they'd have newer evidence as well as the DNA results from the gift box you gave them.

The kind officers escorted you home as promised and for the first time in a long time, you didn't feel paranoid and scared while waving goodbye to them. You went upstairs and checked every room again before falling asleep.

As you awoke the next day, the sun had risen a long time ago. Your work was the last thing on your mind. Instead of calling in sick again, despite the risk of being fired, you called your friend Ryujin.

There was a chance that your manager had been released so you didn't want to be alone.

She picked up after only a few rings, sounding out of breath and worried. '' Y/n? Where the fuck have you been? ''

You jumped back and winched at her loud voice. She was shouting so much that you could hear her perfectly fine even while holding the phone an arm's length away from your ear.

'' I was so worried! I thought something bad happened to you after that pervert at work caused a scene, and then you call me once to tell me to cover for you at work! ''

She did have a point. You didn't give her an explanation after basically going completely silent. No one at work must've had any clue what was going on in your private life and why you weren't there. But if anyone deserved to know it was Ryujin.

'' I'm sorry, '' you began, sighing heavily. '' I've been dealing with a lot of shit lately. ''

'' Like what? '' she spat back, although less angry and loud this time.

'' It's hard to explain. Ever since that day I've been feeling like someone's been watching me. ''

'' A stalker? ''

'' Yeah, something like that. ''

'' Why didn't you tell me sooner? ''

'' It was a lot I had to process and figure out on my own first. I think this...stalker has been breaking into my apartment. ''

'' What? ''

'' I don't have a lot of proof of it. Mostly, it's just a feeling. ''

She went quiet for a moment, then when she spoke again, her voice sounded thick with sympathy. '' I believe you. ''

'' Thank you, '' you smiled wholeheartedly even though she couldn't see you.

You didn't know how much you'd missed her until you heard her voice again.

'' Do you wanna come over? ''

'' Of course. I think you need someone right now, '' she half-joked. '' I have enough vacation days, so that won't be a problem. I'll be over in twenty! ''

'' Okay, bye see you! ''

'' Bye! ''

You spent the next twenty minutes pacing back and forth in your apartment, not daring to go check if the toilet roll had been used again. When the bell rang, you felt so relieved, you didn't even check who it was.

Thankfully, that time it was actually Ryujin and not someone else. You flung yourself into her arms and hugged her tightly.

'' Oh wow, someone's missed me. ''

'' Shut up, '' you gave her a grin despite your words, which she returned as she sat down.

'' So. Tell me everything. ''

*******

After hearing the whole story, your friend was more worried than ever. Her reaction was a lot stronger than the other people who knew about it and you felt relieved she shared your paranoia.

The two of you drove down to the station so you could see if they had released him yet. Luck seemed to finally be on your side as they told you they had extended the time and were questioning both of the suspects since the creep from your job had been brought in too.

The weight on your shoulders had lifted completely now. Unless they broke out or were freed not long after, you'd at least have a night of serene rest, finally worry-free.

'' We will contact you when we have more information, '' the kind lady at the desk told you while you were leaving again.

'' Maybe I can go back to work tomorrow. ''

Ryujin turned her head so fast she almost crashed the car.

'' Are you sure? Do you not feel scared anymore? ''

'' No, why would I? I think it'll be okay. Soon they will get the results and they can finally be charged and put away forever. ''

She hummed in response, deep in thought, but agreed in the end that it would be good for you to go back to routine. You would put the whole thing behind you.

'' Thank you for dropping me off, and for coming over today. ''

'' No need to thank me, I was going crazy thinking about all the things that could've happened to you. Promise me you'll never leave me in the dark like that again! '' she frowned.

You laughed loudly, '' Promise. ''

As she drove off you waved enthusiastically so she'd see you were fine, because she kept asking if you were sure you didn't want her to stay the night.

On the way up, you saw the security guard again. He noticed your bright smile and lit up when he saw you.

'' You seem to be in a good mood today. ''

'' Yes! I am. ''

He stepped into the elevator with you and raised a small package in his hand to show you he was doing a delivery.

'' Is there any reason in particular? ''

'' The whole thing has been solved...well, pretty much anyway. The two suspects were arrested so I will be sleeping well tonight. ''

'' That's great! ''

You nodded, '' What floor are you going to? ''

'' Same as you, the eight, '' he gestured to the buttons and you pressed it for him.

'' You're too nice, I keep saying it. Shouldn't people come get their own packages in the lobby? ''

'' They should, but they don't. I guess the positive thing is that it leads to better reviews, so higher prices, and then I get a higher salary, '' he winked.

'' Smart, playing the long game. ''

You stepped out of the elevator and started walking towards your apartment. Even from afar, you noticed something was wrong with the lock. It kept beeping and flashing an error message.

It was quite easily fixed so you tried to contain your irritation on the inside.

'' Are you okay over there? '' the security guard shouted from the other side of the hallway.

He had dropped off his package and came over, having heard the noises.

'' Damn it. That fucker must've been inside this morning. ''

'' I thought he was arrested. ''

You nodded and swallowed bitterly, a look of disdain struck across your features. '' He was, I guess he just had to do it one last time. ''

'' Will you be okay? '' his soft voice sounded even more gentle as it was laced with genuine concern, '' do you want me to check? ''

'' No. The danger's gone, he can't hurt me anymore. ''

You didn't know if it was him you were trying to convince or yourself.

'' You can sleep with me, '' he timidly added.

'' What? '' you whipped your head around, having been lost in your thoughts for a moment.

'' I meant sleep by me, '' he blushed, '' in the lobby, if you feel scared. ''

You knew he probably meant well, but it was hard to hide the expression your face changed into since you felt a little weirded out. To sleep near someone is to trust them completely.

'' Thank you. I'll remember that in case I change my mind. ''

It was said in a stern tone, finalizing the conversation. The security guard was observant and picked up on it, nodding curtly before leaving. You gave the lock one final irritated look, then closed the door behind you and hurried to turn the lights on.

One tour later where you found no one and you were yet again left to make the hours go by until it was time to fall asleep again. You were thankful for the water bottle that always stood on your nightstand then as you downed it thirstily.

It washed over you like a wave, the sleepiness, and like it was knocking you over, you found yourself falling back against the soft mattress and blinking hazily at the ceiling.

Mere minutes after, you couldn't fight against it any longer so you became engulfed in what had become a familiar darkness. The sun outside slowly started fading, there was no way to tell how long it had been since you laid down; its last golden-red beams illuminated against your window.

Your room which was now one with the darkness suddenly lit up briefly. The screen of a phone on the table lighting up as a message popped up.

It went unnoticed and so the room turned black again. But then more messages came in, just when it was about to go dark - another lit up the room.

00:13

Ryujin: y/n?

Ryujin: can you answer me? this is important

00:14

Ryujin: are you okay?

00:15

Missed call from Ryujin

00:15

Ryujin: if you don't pick up the phone I'm coming over, if you see this, make sure you lock your door and the windows, also make sure you check everywhere!

Ryujin: the DNA results came in

The sound of a door unlocking echoed in the apartment. A hooded man stalked towards your sleeping form and the bed dipped as he sat down on it to pet your head.

00:15

Ryujin: it's not them, it's someone else

You stirred in your sleep, blissfully unaware of the danger that lurked just above you.

'' Sorry about the drugs, sweetheart. It's the only way I could visit you at night. But now, we will be together forever, '' the man said, and as he carried you out, the reflection in the mirror showed your stalker - the security guard.

*******

(explanation; although I think most people will guess it right I'll explain why it was him. The reason all she did was sleep was because of the drugs, he put them in the water bottle and then snuck in after she fell asleep during his nightshift, he laid next to her & even used her things (such as the paper) because he played '' house '' or pretended he was her boyfriend; since he was the security guard he had the easiest access to her as they often have keys to every apartment & it's also why he said he didn't see anyone delivering the package to y/n, I guess your enemies are a lot closer than you'd think c: !! if u have any more questions feel free to send them <3

[buddierecs]

jealous!evan buckley buddie fics

all explicit rating - 18+ only!!!!!! make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

if i need to rearrange my particles - i will for you by: dylaesthetics "buck joins a support app for first responders and matches with a firefighter who has ptsd and a kid who likes giraffes, apparently" word count: 45k important tags: secret identity, anonymous messaging, angst, mental health, ptsd, anxiety, panic attacks, sexuality crisis, mutual pining, fluff and smut, masturbation meet me in the middle (underneath a little bit of mistletoe) by: princessfbi "buck and eddie agree to fake date each other to get through dinner with their parents during the holidays!" word count: 40k important tags: fake dating, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, angst, fluff, smut, protective!eddie diaz, getting together, slow burn

finally found what i've been looking for by: fleetinghearts "buck's good at basketball, eddie's trying really hard not to commit an act of public indecency about it, and maybe, just maybe, a slightly bloody beachside pick-up game can be the start of something new" word count: 5k important tags: 7x04 spec, friends to lovers, fluff, unsafe sex, dry humping, hand jobs, praise kink 'till storm breaks loose by: markofalover "how an elbow to the face changes everything." word count: 6k important tags: 7x04, mutual pining, accidental injury, love confessions, getting together, possessive behaviour, sharing clothes, blow jobs, come eating, praise kink my home is your body by: coldbam "buck and eddie have vastly different nights at pride. then very similar summers" word count: 16k important tags: friends to lovers, friends with benefits, getting together, bottom!eddie diaz, top!evan buckley stay here, honey (i don't want to share) by: stockholm_syndrom "six months after eddie comes out to the team, and three months after eddie confesses his feelings for buck (and buck rejects him), eddie starts dating men. and buck is totally fine with that. really." word count: 9.6k important tags: mutual pining, oblivious!evan buckley, anal sex, oral sex, service top!evan buckley, bottom!eddie diaz, praise kink hot and heavy by: 42hrb "five times eddie had casual sex with someone who wasn't buck and the time they finally got their shit together" word count: 9.4k important tags: 5+1 things, slutty!eddie diaz, mutual pining, idiots to lovers, casual sex, porn with feelings, oral sex seen by: snailboat64 "hen lets it slip that she knows eddie is a great dancer, and buck is determined to see him in action. when he does, it's a revelation" word count: 14k important tags: eddie can dance, insecure!evan buckley, smut what a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you by: prettyboybuckley "the au where they're both strippers and buck goes from "i hate this guy" to "oh fuck, i think i'm in love with him" word count: 21k important tags: stripper/exotic dancer au, college student!evan buckley, eventual smut, grinding, anal sex, praise kink i only ever want you by: bucksclipboard "there’s jealousy, there’s fighting, there’s delicious makeup sex" word count: 2.7k important tags: pre-relationship, getting together, team as family, porn with plot, grinding, blow jobs, make up sex possessive behaviour by: whiskis "buck gets really possessive when he’s jealous and just wants eddie to remember that he’s his." word count: 2.8k important tags: possessive behaviour, established relationship, fluff and smut, blow jobs, teasing no one's touched me there in a damn hot minute! by: bisexualbuckley "buck is a little shit during their lunch date and eddie puts him in his place. but he can't help giving buck everything he wants either, not when he's that pretty." word count: 4.8k important tags: established relationship, brat!evan buckley, possessive behaviour, boys in love, praise kink, prostate massage, orgasm control, anal fingering, aftercare

[rynrising44]

Maybe this is an unpopular opinion, but those people on Tic Tok making videos about "things they despise in fanfiction" under the sound of "Hard times" kind of rub me the wrong way. Like, sure. Paragraphs are nice. Longer chapters are nice. Using quotation marks is nice. But do you know how hard it is to write? Do you write? Do you edit? Do you constantly stress over your works because you are so freaking fearful that it sucks and that people will bash it?

Legitimately I'm wondering.

Because one person on a tiktok said they don't read chapters unless they're at least 2k words. Another said they want more people to write for Whumptober but they want more than a one-shot because they need more than just a 3k work. Another said they only read finished fics and they have to be 100k. Like??? I hate to break it to you, but you are the problem.

I write cause I love writing. I write cause I want to read the stories in my head as concrete ideas. It takes me about 10 hours to write a single chapter that's about 2k words. 10 hours! Not including editing. I worked on a 6k one shot for an entire month. My WIPs are long. 50k words or so, and I have bookmarks from people saying "Chapter 0."

It has taken me so much time and tears and thought to write the words I have written. If no-one read my WIP because it wasn't finished and they refuse to read unfinished works, that's such a shame.

You miss out that way.

This is how AI weasles it's way into artistic spaces. Because people lack patience and want instant gratification.

It just bugs me so much that this culture is becoming more hard-core pressed on consumption instead of community. Opinions are opinions. You can share your frustrations but remember, we are all people. A lot of children are learning to write on these websites. People that speak English as a second language are putting out their best works, and here you are; overly criticizing works based on chapter length and paragraph length and POVs and tenses.

Like, guys. Writing is fluid. It's growth. I'm not the same writer I used to be, and it's because people read my fics and spurred me along that I continued to grow.

This is all humanity. This is all fun.

Free.

It's a gift born from the creativity of an individual's heart, so how could I ever refer to someone's soul as "not good enough."

It's one thing to silently not read a fanfiction. It's another to publicly shame it. That kid whose vivid imagination led them to write about characters they love can see your comments and maybe because of it, they'll never write again.

[theoreticaltranstherian]

Jumping on the bandwagon woo-hoo

no spam reblog or spam comment ;P

For every 100 reblogs I'll drink another bottle of water

Update: Ive drank almost 2 whole water bottles in the last 3 days which isn't much proportionally but for one, I'd probably not even drink one if it wasn't for the internet critters in my phone telling me to and also, yk, thats alot of water compared to my last few weeks getting all my fluids from food

10 reblogs: Go to bed before midnight tonight

50 reblogs: I'll make my bed in the mornings for a week

Update: I found out that my bed being made kinda stresses me out for some reason, it's just so neat I get scared, and so instead I am putting away 3 pieces of clothing that have been clean for months and i just haven't touched every morning :D

75 reblogs: I'll work on getting accommodations for my autism at school

Update: I don't have the required "proof of diagnosis" and I'd have to wait 2 years or so to get it and I won't be in school anymore at that point, so I'm working with my counselors to see what they can do aside from official autism accommodations

125 reblogs: I'll work in upping my failing grade in math

Update: Math test retake on the 12tg, wish me luck!

150 reblogs: I'll work on my dopamine addiction and get help

Update: Hooooooly shit addictions are hard. I'm going to start a timer for time between uses of YouTube shorts or Instagram reels in an effort to reduce my need for instant gratification and try to replace every time I pick my phone up with drawing or reading or talking to people around me.

200 reblogs: I'll post my art that I've been self conscious about posting

Update: I am really happy for this, it's finally an excuse for me to make myself post my art :D it's probably gonna be 1-2 drawings per post with a little background with each :3

300k reblogs: I'll start cleaning up my room

400k reblogs: I'll clean out my bag (God pls don't get to 400 yall T T)

500: I'll get sharp objects out of my room

1k reblogs: I'll be really happy :0

Edit; Added more goals

2k reblogs: I'll start streaming on twitch again!!!

3k reblogs: I'll empty out my drafts

5k: I come out as trans to my parents (I don't know if they're transphobic so to speak, but they are of the mindset that "do whatever you want once you're out of our house but until then you are our kid" but I wanna be like um no actually-)

5.5k: I come out as trans to my non-transphobic grandma

6k: I come out as trans to my transphobic grandma

Edit 2; Yo same picture of the earth reblogged me?!? the picverse found this?!?! that's insane xd

Edit 4; I added some coming out goals because I'm not gonna do it if I don't have the pressure from hundreds of little things in my phone cheering me on xd

Pinging moots so there's at least a small chance of any of these happening xd

@calimewzz @annotated-catastrophe @glitched-out-dusk @life-is-okay-rn

[blessedbucky]

we tried the world, good god, it wasn't for us! (part 2)

pairing: autistic!satoru x suguru x autistic!reader

word count: 6k!

summary: a glimpse into the time before tokyo

tags: autistic!reader, autistic!satoru, bisexual!reader, bisexual!suguru, ableism, internalized ableism, mentioned child abuse, mentioned bullying, mentioned homophobia

beautiful people who asked to be tagged 💕: @ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again

author note: i'm not going to stay this every single chapter, but just as a reminder, autism is a spectrum! i was a late in life diagnosis. like, i literally got diagnosed two-ish years ago at 30. so, i don't know what it was like to live a childhood with an actual diagnosis. i know, for most parents, their kid getting a diagnosis isn't the end of the world. i've done a lot of research on how autism is received in japan and it's a lot of mixed reviews. i can only imagine that living in a super tiny town isn't easy for anyone seen as "other" (LGBT, neurodivergent, sorcerers in regards to the JJK world). so, yeah, there's my disclaimer!

translation note: jiheishō is the japanese term for autism

oops done forgot to link part one

oops part duex here's the ao3 link

[SIX.]

“Jiheishō?”

Oh. There’s that word again.

Mother took you on another trip to the special doctor that’s all the way in the city. It takes a long, long time to drive there. Two hours, Mother said, when you asked. You wanted to ask her if she remembered how many times you’ve been to the doctor, but you can only ask one question on special doctor days. Mother has been really sad. You don’t want to make her sadder because you ask lots of stupid questions.

Is Father this sad, too? You wish that you could hug him like you do Mother, but you don’t see him a lot. He doesn’t like to talk to you as much anymore. He must be tired. He’s a farmer and works really hard. You were really happy when he came with you and Mother to the special doctor once.

“Absolutely not!” Father’s voice is loud. You drop your crayon because you got spooked. You’re outside with crayons and the special paper that’s colorful and feels really nice on your fingers. Before you went home, the special doctor let you take all your drawings home. “That’s what that quack came up with?! And you accepted that?! We spent all our money for that?!”

“Dear, please,” Mother says in that way that means she’s crying now. You want to go hide. It’s because of you. “Don’t you think this is the best outcome? We were scared that she had some kind of brain injury! The doctor said that the things that she’s been seeing are imaginary friends, that’s all. She has poor emotional regulation and an overactive imagination, so if we teach her what she can and can’t say—”

“What do you mean better?!” There’s a loud bang that makes you jump. “If she was sick in the head in some other way, we could medicate her! How do we treat this, huh?! What are we supposed to tell people? Do you know the position this puts us in now? This is an embarrassment on both our families! Our daughter will be no better than that Geto boy!”

Father is really, really, really mad. He’s super loud, too. It makes your head hurt more. The hospital had a lot of people, was really bright, and there was so much noise. You don’t know how, but you hurt Mother and Father, and that makes your heart hurt worse than your head. You guess this is because of what the doctor said. He said what was wrong with you, even if you didn’t know what it meant. Before he could tell you what it means, Mother said that she and Father would talk to you about it. She said that it wasn’t the doctor’s place.

You’re dumb. You should’ve known you hurt her when she got in the car after leaving the doctor and cried a long time.

Too scared to be seen by Father right now, you decide to leave. If he sees you, he’ll keep yelling, and you’ll cry. This might make him happier, anyway. He says that he wants you to be more normal. Normal boys and girls go play, right? You don’t have people friends, but you don’t think that matters. You just have to be gone from home until the sun sets. If Father asks where you went, it won’t be a lie to say you were playing with friends.

You walk along the rock road between farms to get to the forest where the river lives. No one waves to you like they do Mother and Father. You know they think you’re weird because your classmates think it, too. It’s not your fault that you have different friends than them. You think they’re jealous that they don’t have as many as you.

Oh!

There are special animals!

Just as they’re about to fly away in the forest, you see a big group of them. These ones look like cute squids!

If you think really hard and call for them like you see classmates do with cats or dogs then the special animals will come see you, but these don’t. “Wait!” They don’t hear you, either. They’re too far away. So, you give chase. You want to touch them and hold them like nothing else. You know it’s mean, but you’ve never seen special animals as cute as these before!

Will these feel like real squid or cooked? You hope it’s real squid. That would be so cool! Maybe you haven’t ever touched a real one, but you have eaten squid, and you hate it. It’s so gross inside your mouth that you throw up whenever Mother makes it. Not even takoyaki can make it better.

You’re on the side of the river when you catch up with the squids. You almost get bonked on the head by something. They’re all dropping stuff on the ground. Fruits and vegetables. They’re dirty and have fur on the end that Father told you were roots. It’s like the squid stole them from the farms. The squids hover in the air, even if they dropped their food. You take the chance to leap up and grab one of them.

You’re squealing at how slimy the squid feels when someone shouts, “Hey!”

All the rest of the squids float over to a boy that’s stomping out of some bushes. You know this boy. He’s the tallest in your class, but also the skinniest. His black hair is at his shoulders and messy. He’s the very first in your class to lose a tooth. He’s making a mean face, so you can see the hole in his teeth. This is Geto Suguru and he’s the only other person in class that people don’t like, though you don’t know why since no one talks to you.

“Let my squid go!” Geto shouts.

Your eyes widen. “You can see them, too?!”

“Yeah. Just like you can, I guess.” Geto walks to stand in front of you and yanks the squid you’re squeezing. “You’re not allowed to eat any of these! This is my food, and these are my squids!”

You’re confused. “Are those regular squids? Do regular squids fly? You only eat regular squids, right?”

Geto squints his eyes at you. “Are you stupid?” He shakes his head. “No. Ocean squids can’t fly. I’m talking about the ghosts.”

“Ghosts?” You tilt your head, trying to figure out what he’s talking about. Suddenly, a black hole opens next to Geto’s head, and a new special animal comes out. This one looks like a really big, ugly fly with teeth and eyes. You have seen these kinds around before. “That’s a ghost? I thought those are special animals.”

Another black hole opens. This special animal has a mushroom-shaped head with a little body and wings. “How does that even look like an animal, dummy? Most of them don’t look like the squids.”

“I know that!” Your cheeks puff out. You’re not dumb. He is! Ugh. Why did you think that he would be different than the rest of your classmates? Everyone calls you stupid! “I call them that because they come when I do. It’s like other kids and their pets. I can do the…the…psst, psst, psst thing.”

Geto finally loses the angry face. Now, he’s confused like you were before. “Huh? You mean…they listen to you?” He points at the bruise on his cheek. “I have to fight them before I can eat them. After I eat them, then they listen to me.”

“You eat them?”

“You don’t?”

“No!”

Maybe you are stupid, but so is he. The two of you stand there and look at each other while you think hard about what you learned. You can both see the invisible things that no one else can. Are there other people like you and him? There has to be! And they all are special because you and Geto are. They come when you call. Geto eats them.

At the same time, you both shout at each other, “Show me!”

“Whoa.” Geto holds his hand out to let you touch the black ball that he turned the ghost animal into.

It took you and him walking up and down the river to find a ghost animal that wasn’t already his pet. He watched with wide eyes and a mouth dropped open as you clapped and called to make the ghost animal come to you. Geto wanted to fight it, but you told him that he didn’t need to do that because it wasn’t going to hurt either of you now. You know that they can be mean when they don’t know the other person, but they don’t fight you.

Then, you were the excited one as you watched Geto show his power. It was bright, but it was so cool that you didn’t even care about that. It’s kind of like the special ghost turned into ashes, just breaking apart before it spun in circles, and it finally formed into a little black ball that Geto now holds.

“That was so pretty!” You’re so excited that you’re waving your arms. “It was so cool, too!” His cheeks are red. He looks away when he pushes the ball in your face. Grinning, you reach for it, but instead of getting to feel the ball, your hand goes through it and lands on his hand. “Oh.” You poke his hand. “Aw, it didn’t work.”

“Eh?” Geto blinks. He pulls his hand away, making sure that his ball didn’t go away completely, and it didn’t. He curls his hand around it over and over. “I guess only I can do it.”

You nod. “That makes sense. Just like only I don’t get hurt by them.”

“But we can both make them do what we say.”

“No,” you stretch the word out. “Um, it’s weird. They don’t see me unless I call for them. And I can make them not hurt me or anyone else and…stay there. But that’s kinda it, really.” You rock back and forth. “I guess I just make them not angry.”

Geto looks at you for a long time without saying anything.

It starts bothering you, getting stared at. You ask, “What is it?”

“Will you help me get bigger ones? You don’t have to do anything but make them be quiet like you did here,” Geto says. “It’s hard for the little ones to get bigger food for me.”

“Why don’t you ask grown-ups to get bigger food for you if the ghost animals can’t?”

Geto kicks some rocks into the water. He doesn’t look at you anymore. “Because I’m not asking for any of that food, dummy.”

“But…that’s stealing, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what else to do,” Geto whispers. “My folks don’t give me food.”

You’re the one that doesn’t say anything for a long time. That makes your heart hurt. Parents are supposed to feed their kids, aren’t they? Sometimes, yours don’t, but that’s because your body is being bad. Mother works hard to make meals and you don’t appreciate that when your body makes you throw up the gross feeling food.

Would Mother and Father let Geto eat instead of you? Geto would probably like Mother’s food more than you. But…no. Father says that he doesn’t like Geto. He thinks that Geto is weird, too. Father might get even madder at you if you tell him that you and Geto are friends.

Kids are supposed to eat. It’s really, really important, your teachers say when you don’t want to eat lunch for the day. That would make it okay if Geto takes some food, right? Farms are big, anyway. Some animals go digging for food. You know that because Father said so. What’s different between a deer and a ghost animal taking food?

“You have to pay me for it,” you finally say.

Geto nods excitedly. “Anything!”

You hold out a hand to him. “I’ll help you if you be my friend.”

[FOURTEEN.]

“You’ve been crying.”

When Suguru cups your cheek and wipes at the tear stains with his thumb, you shrug him away. Not because you don’t want to be touched, but because you don’t want to dwell on what caused said tears. “I brought takoyaki,” you mumble as you slip your backpack off your shoulder. “Had to take a bite, but I know you don’t care about the germs.” Said takoyaki balls are wrapped in a napkin that you pass over to him.

“I almost don’t want to out of spite,” Suguru mutters under his breath.

“Then what? Should I throw it away? They’ll check the trash or check the yard to see if I buried it.” Hugging your knees to your chest, you put your forehead against your knees. “Eat it, please. I just want this whole ordeal to be over, okay?”

“Aren’t you too old for them to be forcing you to sit at the table?” Suguru keeps complaining as he digs into the takoyaki balls with gusto. He tries to be casual about it, but you’ve been best friends for almost ten years. You know when his parents haven’t been letting him eat.

“Aren’t you too old to be asking these stupid questions?” You turn your head to the side to quietly study him. It was nearing midnight when he came knocking on your window. The makeup from the day has rubbed off, so you can see the ugly bruise yellowing on his cheek. “Aren’t you too old to be hanging out with the weird chick? You know it makes their mood worse when they hear I made a scene.”

Suguru chuckles darkly. “They’d find another fuckin’ reason to get pissed off, trust me.”

“How’d we end up with the shittiest parents in this stupid village?”

“Everyone has secrets. They’re cruel to their children, to their spouses, to each other. Just like you and I do, they have their masks, but word gets around. You just don’t pay attention.” He reaches over to flick your exposed nose. “Did you hear about what happened with Endo Iyo’s father? His mistress from a village over showed up on their doorstep, saying she’s pregnant with his child.”

“Eh? No wonder she was such a cunt at school today.”

Suguru laughs quietly. “You’re awful, Squid.”

“Says the person that’s dishing out the gossip.”

“Okay, you got me there.” Suguru stabs the last takoyaki ball with his skewer. Before he takes a bite, he asks, “I’m surprised you’re not saying worse about her. Do you want to talk about what happened today? I heard that you and Endo got into a screaming match in the girls’ locker room.”

“All the mean shit that I had to say about her, I said to her face.” He snickers but stops when you go on to explain, “She was talking about doing mean things to you.” You fiddle with the hem of your sleeve. “I overheard her and all her little friends scheming. She said that when we start high school, she’s going to pretend to confess her love for you. She said that you’re such a desperate loser that you’d accept.”

Suguru doesn’t have much to say about that. He tosses the napkin away. You watch as, one by one, he licks the sticky residue of takoyaki sauce away from his fingers. He’s staring at you thoughtfully while he does. For some reason, it leaves you flustered, so you duck your head back down.

“Is that what upset your parents?” You nod miserably. “That was sweet, Squid, but you didn’t have to go through that for me. I know you hate to yell. But…you didn’t think that I would believe her if she said something like that, did you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Or…maybe you’d use her like she wanted to use you. We’re at that age, y’know. I hear guys talk about getting a hand up girls’ skirts and stuff.”

Suguru groans loudly. You glance over at him and he’s so disgusted that it makes you huff in amusement. “How low is your opinion of me? I have tastes.”

“How do you even know what your tastes are? Everyone our age is gross.”

“You’re not gross.”

“I wasn’t talking about me and you, obviously.” You unwrap your arms from around your legs, letting them drop. You shuffle around to cross your legs instead. “We start high school next year,” you whisper more to yourself than him. “I guess that I do have to start thinking about that stuff, huh?”

He makes a displeased noise in the back of his throat. “You actually don’t.”

“It’s what normal teenagers do, though, right? Girls think about making love confessions to the guys they have crushes on. They want to date.” You bite on your bottom lip. “That cunt, Endo…she even talked about swindling you into taking her to a big city to book a room at a love hotel. She thinks you have a big dick because you’re so tall. That’s when I snapped.”

“Oh. That was nice of her to say.”

“Suguru! Ugh!” You can’t even believe that he would praise her like that. Suguru is your best friend! This asshole is supposed to be on your side here! “Don’t be thankful for that! One day, you’ll meet a nice girl who will wax poetic about your dick and mean it!”

“Or boy.”

“Or boy—” you blink. Slowly, you turn your head. Suguru is pointedly not looking at you. Because he’s nervous. Your kneejerk reaction is to be hurt that he’s waited this long to tell you, but you understand why. During your first year of middle school, word got around that Kimura Kaito liked boys, and he left for the city without even graduating. “Or boy,” you reaffirm. “I can kind of forgive you for taking Endo’s compliment. It sucks that someone so hot is such a bitch.”

The tension in the air eases. With flushed cheeks and a laugh, he gives you a light shove. “How much did it pain you to lie like that?”

“I wasn’t, though?”

“Oh.”

“I thought you knew,” you admit. “Didn’t I tell you about the day that I was with my mother in the city? It was two years ago, I think? I saw an ad at the subway station with this model and said it’d be nice if she was my wife. My mom slapped me so hard that I knocked my head against a wall and busted it open.”

“No!” At Suguru’s shout, you immediately shush him. Sure, your house is bigger than his, but it’s not that big. He’ll wake your parents if he keeps this up. “I saw that and tried to ask you about it, but you didn’t say shit,” he hisses in a much quieter voice than before.

Oops. “Well, that’s what happened.”

Suguru tilts his head back, looking up at the starry skies. “We’re kind of perfect for each other, Squid. Have you ever thought about that? We see the same things. We were raised the same. We like the same things…”

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” you agree.

Just the thought of a life without Suguru in it makes your chest tight with panic. This is the exact same spiral that you had before you two entered middle school. You were so exhausted that first week of middle school because terror kept you awake all the nights before. You dreaded the change. You thought that, somehow, the rest of the kids in the village would finally figure out how amazing a person Suguru is and take him away from you. Now that you think about it, that might be part of the reason why you exploded on Endo. Maybe she joked about it, but what if someone else didn’t?

“Squid—”

“Suguru—” you stop when you realize that you and he started to talk at the same time. Since it feels like you’ve dominated the whole conversation tonight, you meekly offer, “You first.”

“Do you…” Suguru trails off. Whatever he wants to say, he doesn’t know how to get it out. You patiently wait. It’s like he goes through a lot of emotions, one after the other. Finally, there’s a defeated slump to his shoulders. “It sounds like it was a hard day for you.” He has such a soft smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Do you want to help me catch the ghost animal that I found last week?”

“You went manta ray riding without me?” You can’t help but pout about that.

“Sorry, sorry. I needed some time alone, that’s all.”

Yeah, okay, you understand that. For you, there are days when it’s simply too hard to even talk. So, you don’t dwell on that any longer. You move the conversation forward as if he never said it at all. “We’ll be so exhausted tomorrow,” you warn.

“It’ll be worth it.” Suguru rises to his feet. Holding out a hand to you, he grins wickedly, and declares, “It’s a dragon.”

“You couldn’t have said that earlier?!” You’re so excited that you scramble to your feet yourself. In your excitement, you almost forget that it’s midnight, and everyone else is asleep. Suguru puts a finger to his lips to remind you to be quiet. Eyes bright and vibrating with delight, you whisper-shout, “Let me grab my sketchbook!”

“Reminds me of Hong.”

“Hong?”

“It’s a rainbow dragon from Chinese mythology!”

“You choose to focus on the most random things,” Suguru mumbles. You elbow him in the ribs as a rebuke. He doesn’t even flinch. Since when did this skinny kid get so damn buff? Oh, from his asshole father making his kid do farm work in his place, that’s how. “What makes you think this is…whoever? Hong?”

“You can’t see it?” Hmm, well, you two do only have moonlight and flashlights to guide your way. There’s no electricity left in this old factory. “Here.” You take the flashlight from Suguru and wave it from side to side so that the light catches off the white dragon’s scales and the iridescent sheen that bounces off them. “See? Rainbow!”

Suguru steps forward to glide his fingers over the dragon’s hide. With a hum, he takes the blunt end of the flashlight and knocks it against the scales. The clang echoes in the silence. “It’s so odd that such a tough creature went down so easy.” He looks over his shoulder at you, brows knitted in concern. “Are you okay?”

“I might fall asleep on the way home,” you admit. It’s the dead of winter, but you had to take your puffy coat and the sweater under that off because you were burning with exertion. You won’t complain, though. This has really helped get out all that excess energy that’s bubbled up inside you all day.

“Oi!”

Both you and Suguru freeze at the sound of a human voice. At the entrance to the factory, there are a group of people. There’s one older man that’s dressed in a suit while the other three appear to be high schoolers—on the cusp of graduation, you’d say, based off how old they look. None of them are from around here. Those uniforms definitely don’t belong to your school. Not even from any other schools in your district. You’re not even sure they’re from your prefecture.

And maybe the sight of them wouldn’t be so alarming. Like you and Suguru, they could be some kids looking to goof around at spooky, supposedly haunted places…but one of them has a weapon. Seriously. The boy with spiky brown hair and a toothpick sticking out of his mouth has a katana drawn.

“Get away from that thing!” Katana Boy shouts.

You don’t know if they’re yakuza or some kind of serial killer group or whatever, and you don’t want to find out. Both you and Suguru act. Normal people can’t see ghost animals, but people can still be touched by them. You and Suguru has fucked around with ghost animals enough to know that. So, when Suguru throws an arm out and the rainbow dragon follows, the entire group is tackled by an invisible force.

Heart racing, you throw yourself against Suguru’s side, and the ground falls out from underneath you both after Suguru summons his manta ray. As soon as Suguru gets you both far away enough, he’ll let the rainbow dragon go. After Suguru swallows them, they’ll never leave him again, no matter how far he may go.

And as soon as you’re far away enough, you can freely shout, “What do we do now?!”

“It’s fine,” Suguru tries to assure you. “It’s fine. Take a deep breath.” How can he say that to you when there’s a rapid rise and fall in his chest, too? “Look, there—” he hesitates as he scrambles for a plan. “We won’t ever go back that way, okay? We were in another district, so they would start the search there, anyway. But why would they bother to look for us? What would they tell the authorities? They’d be admitting to crimes of their own!”

“Yes! Right! Okay!” The logic helps calm down the frantic racing of your mind and body. Because he’s right. He is. Those other teenagers would be looked at as crazy as everyone does you and Suguru—wait. Wait. “Katana Guy…he said to get away from that thing. Did he mean Hong? Could that guy see Hong?!”

“No, Squid!” Suguru shakes his head. He knows exactly where you’re going. “We are not going back there! Who cares if they can see what we do? If one of them had a katana, you think the others didn’t have weapons of their own? Whatever they wanted, it’s no good.”

“There are other people like us, though!” It’s starting to process in your mind. This makes your heart soar higher than this manta ray could possibly go. You’re still draped across Suguru’s lap. You pull at his shirt, yanking him away from his thoughts, forcing him to look down at you. “There are other people like us!”

“There…” Suguru’s eyes widen. The epiphany finally reaches him, too. “There are other people like us,” he repeats breathlessly.

“Let’s leave!” The grin on your face is infectious. You are both high off adrenaline and elation. “Suguru, I don’t care if we have to live on the streets…as soon as we graduate, we’re leaving here. We’re getting away from everyone in our shitty village. Let’s run until we find more people like us!”

Suguru holds up his pinky between your bodies. You immediately hook your own around it. “Yes,” he swears. “You and me, Squid. We’ll run and never look back.”

Little did you know, a week later, you and Suguru are given your destination to run toward.

Side by side, you and Suguru walk down the gravel road that leads to your homes. Halfway home, there’s a sleek black car that blocks the road. They’re not from this village because no one has a car as nice as that. You and Suguru plan to go around it, just assuming it’s for one of the farmers. It’s unusual but not rare. Sometimes, corporate lackeys come slinking in to try and buy up farmland.

The back doors of the car open and, with growing dread, you realize that those people are here for you and Suguru. Katana Guy steps out of the car, rubbing the back of his neck, looking like he wants to be anywhere but here. He’s not armed, thankfully. If you scream, will neighbors come running? They may ridicule you and Suguru, but this village protects their own. So, you could make a scene.

“Yeah, that’s them,” Katana Guy loudly announces while he looks over his shoulder at the other person stepping out of the car.

An unfamiliar voice calls out your name, followed by, “Geto Suguru.” There’s a big man that walks around to step up by Katana Guy’s side. This man wears thin, sporty sunglasses. His brown hair is a buzz, shaved close to his head. He’s got a mustache-goatee combo thing going, too. “Don’t be scared. We’re here to talk.”

Behind you, there’s the tale tell sound of Suguru’s rift opening. Nothing gets brought out, though, when you hold out an arm as a motion for him to stop and think. There’s an audience. This isn’t like it was the other night. The neighbors can’t see the ghost animals, but they can see the damage that’s done. They can feel the damage that’s done. Feelings for them aside, it’d bring up too many questions if a bunch of people died. That’s why Katana Guy and his gang aren’t doing anything, either.

“If you have anything to say, talk with our parents,” you state bluntly.

Sunglasses Guy approaches you and Suguru slowly. Suguru takes the arm that you still have held out and tries to tug you behind him protectively. You don’t go. Instead, you just hold his hand tightly, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. Sunglasses Guy stops when you and Suguru start backing up. On each side of the road, farmers are putting their tools down and walking to meet you.

“My name is Yaga Masamichi,” Sunglasses Guy introduces himself. “I’m a teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu High School.”

Suguru scoffs. “What? Are you here to offer us a spot?”

“Yes, actually,” Yaga answers. “I will speak with your parents, but I can’t give them the whole truth. They’ve never believed you when you told them, have they?” Your hand squeezes tighter as if to say to him, see! See! Just like us! “Behind me is one of our third-years, Kusakabe Atsuya. He says that you two took care of the spirit.”

“Spirit?” Suguru and you repeat at the same time. You think you know what he means, so you ask, “The dragon?”

“Yes.” Yaga nods. “That thing you encountered, the things that you’ve seen your entire life—those are what we called cursed spirits.”

It’s weird. It doesn’t even take that long for Yaga to bust wide open the door to a whole other world. It’s not super detailed, it can’t be because you’re on a time limit with suspicious neighbors, but it’s enough to comfort you and Suguru. You’re told about the foundation of jujutsu—cursed energy that births cursed spirits and the sorcerers that wield it. That’s what you and Suguru are, he tells you. You’re jujutsu sorcerers.

“The school that I teach at…we teach those like you how to hone and strengthen their techniques. We train them to become full-fledged sorcerers that will go on to save lives that cursed spirits threaten,” Yaga explains. “You’ll meet people like you. There are two others that would be coming in with you next year if you decide to enroll.”

“Yes,” Suguru blurts.

“Suguru,” you hiss. To Yaga, you demand, “Come back and be less suspicious about it. We’ll talk more then.”

Yaga accepts this with a nod.

When Yaga and his shady car is gone, Suguru stares at you as if you’ve grown another head. A neighbor calls out your surname, then Suguru’s, but you ignore them by stomping forward down the road. You’re tired of being looked at. Suguru allows himself to be dragged by the hand, but he’s still trying to press you.

Suguru says your name. “This is our way out!”

You’re exhausted. You want to go home, but Suguru’s not going to let this go easy. When you two are far away enough, you stop, and whirl around to face him.

“Did you even listen to what he said? The ghost—these cursed spirits—” all these emotions are starting to overwhelm you. It’s got your hands shaking. “Saving people means these things are dangerous enough to kill us. That’s…that’s scary! What if we fail? How could I live with myself if someone dies because of me?” Your throat is clogging up with emotion. “I want to leave, I do, but I don’t want to fight. I just want to understand!”

Maybe Suguru thinks it’ll make you feel better, but it makes you feel dismissed when he says, “That won’t happen. I’ll always be there to protect you.”

“How does that make things better? Do you not get that the thought of that makes me even more scared?!” You press the heels of your palms against your eyes. Your bottom lip quivers. “What if you get hurt because of me? What if you die because of me, Suguru? What am I supposed to do without you?”

“Squid, if we don’t leave now then we never will. We’ll be stuck here, doing nothing with our lives.”

“Go be a hero without me, then!”

“No,” Suguru answers flatly. “We both go, or we both stay.”

It’s too much pressure. The day weighs down and so does Suguru’s clear manipulation. You explode. “You’re such a piece of shit! This is so selfish! You’re making me decide your future, so I end up being the asshole if I make you stay here when you definitely don’t want to!”

“You don’t want to, either! But you’d rather stay here and let yourself be a punching bag for everyone because you’re scared shitless of change!” When you’re angry at each other, you both get nasty. “Oh, what is poor Squid gonna do if there’s even one little change to her day-to-day? How would she ever survive if something different happened for a change?!”

“Oh, what is poor Suguru gonna do if he doesn’t have someone to take care of out of pity?!”

“Pity?!”

“You heard me!” As you’re storming away, you throw over your shoulder, “Now, leave me the hell alone!”

Normally, crying the way you did when you got home to your room would exhaust you enough to let you sleep the whole night through. Your mind and body don’t want to do that tonight, though. You’re hyperaware of everything—the weight and scratch of clothes against your skin, the constant shudder of your thin window as the harsh winter winds bashes against it, the rattle of the heater in the corner of the room. You have to have a tough debate with yourself over whether to strip all the way down to your panties or to bear the burden of this weight against your skin. It boils down to being kept awake by cold or by fucking clothes because that’s the perk of having a brain like yours.

Can the day get worse? There’s only two minutes to midnight, but you’ve never had luck on your side.

For five minutes, you watch the bright, red numbers of your alarm clock intently. Is this like…what’s that American saying? If you watch the minutes pass by, is it like counting sheep? Will that keep your mind off the guilt that sits heavy in your chest like a stone?

That Yaga guy will be back. What if Suguru sees him before you? What will Suguru say? Will he finally give up on you or will he give up on the chance to break free from his parents and this awful village? You hate both options. It doesn’t matter which one you think about, they both replace that guilt inside your chest with panic.

At this point, you have to decide which option will be the least painful.

And isn’t that a shitty summarization of your life?

What’s worse? Gagging as you try to force down food that you hate the texture of or face your parents’ wrath? Gritting your teeth through days where even an overcast is enough to make your eyes burn or deal with the punishment for skipping school to curl up somewhere dark? Living with a low burn of panic as you let people surround and touch you as you try to pretend to be normal enough for a relationship or become a total outcast with nothing and no one to rely on?

Can you spend decades more in this village with this metaphorical mask that’s been nailed onto your face by your parents because they don’t want you to be seen by the world for who you truly are?

The thing that Suguru doesn’t understand is that if he goes to this high school, the only thing that’s separated him from everyone else will be gone. He will be surrounded by people who can see cursed spirits. He’ll no longer be seen as other. He would shine so bright at this new school.

It can never be like that with you.

Because, at the end of the day, people who are not born like you are all the same. Jujutsu sorcerers will have their own world with their own unspoken rules and their own incomprehensible language that you will only be able to decode when it’s too late and you’ve been stamped as wrong.

You don’t want to be left behind.

But you also don’t want to force Suguru to stay behind with you.

Who doesn’t want to be a hero? Not everyone can be, though. You weren’t built to be a fighter. It terrifies you, the thought of becoming one. You may be even more terrified to face the people than the cursed spirits. How exhausting will this be? You’ll not only be navigating the jujutsu world, but also the unspoken, too. You’ll have to learn new rules, learn to be around new people, and mold yourself a new mask.

You don’t want to let down Suguru.

Ugh.

You may as well go talk to him since he won’t come to you. He always waits on you to make the first move when you tell him that you need to be alone. So, you roll away from your futon, climb to your feet, throw on a few more layers, and climb out of your window into the freezing night.

The Geto house is two down from yours, but in the countryside, that’s a hike. It’s the smallest in the village. Suguru has said he’s lucky that he has his own room, but it’s close to his parents’. You don’t tap on his window like he does yours. Instead, he always leaves the window unlocked so that you can crawl through, as you do now. You don’t need to tiptoe over to shake him awake because, same as you, he never went to sleep.

Suguru meets you outside and brings a blanket with him that he throws over your shoulders and his. The two of you huddle under it, pressed right up against each other, soaking up the warmth from each other. You lean your head against his bicep, break the silence with a sigh and apology. “I’m sorry for being a bitch.”

“Don’t be mean to yourself,” he scolds quietly. “I was being impulsive.” He sighs. “You’re right to be scared. I want away from here so bad that I didn’t stop to think about the danger that I’d be walking us both into.”

“I’ve been thinking about it all and…I’m not sure that it’s dying that I’m really scared of.” You brought a pen with you and click the end. It keeps your hand busy and Suguru doesn’t mind the noise. “I’ve been all over the place, I know. I was excited at the idea of meeting people like us, of getting out of here, and I am! I—” you chew on your bottom lip. “I don’t want you to leave me behind when we get there.”

“Why do you think I would ever leave you behind?” Suguru sounds genuinely hurt which makes you feel guiltier. “Have I been such a bad friend that you think I only pity you?”

“No!” You jerk your head up, looking at him with wide, panicked eyes. “You’re my best friend! The best friend!”

Suguru doesn’t meet your gaze. “You’re my best friend, too, Squid. I don’t pity you. I haven’t stuck by your side because you’re my only option. I’m not going to throw you away at the first sign of attention from people who understand us. You were the first person to ever see me. You were the first person to take care of me. Now, we take care of each other.” He tilts his head down, bumping it against yours. “It’s you and me, Squid. It always has been. It always will be.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You didn’t think you had the energy or tears left in you to cry, but maybe you’ve still got some left. You grab his hand like a clingy girlfriend. Your voice shakes as you ask, “Promise?”

“I promise,” Suguru swears.

The next day, after school, you’re called into a private meeting with a counselor, your parents, and Yaga.

And when Yaga offers a full scholarship to Tokyo Jujutsu High School, you accept.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Please write me a Billy W story - no particular premise, but I would like heart wrenching angst and disgusting smut. Something that will make me feel like I want to bite through my own forearm like I know only you can.

@ewanmitchellcrumbs <3 xoxo

You got it, baby~ Tried the heart-wrenching angst but didn't want to kill my precious boy, hope you like!

Lost Without You

Warnings: past trauma, swearing, angst, mentions of breakup, smut (p in v, oral m receiving, tiddy succin) | Word Count: 6k~

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Billy W Taglist

Billy hadn’t been in a car since Cranstead Fields.

Couldn’t and wouldn’t.

In the summer, with the incessant heat and dry air, it was totally fine. He would walk for hours and hours, mostly people watching and mulling over the events of that hot July where he had nearly fallen victim to his own overly trusting nature. Or perhaps he was naïve. It was difficult to tell the difference these days.

London flocked with tourists in the Summer, with the school holidays in full swing not long after. He'd happily disappear into the crowds, not wanting to be seen, and only observe. He'd watch families enjoy their time off in the blazing sun, even at Cranstead Fields, sometimes he'd walk past and see young lads playing footie right where his car had been. The grass now free of the tinged black tips from the fire, had turned a pale yellowish green with the harsh heat.

He thought it was wrong that he kept coming back. And he didn't know why he did.

People had fucking picnics there, absentmindedly sucking on ice lollies to keep cool, laughing and enjoying life.

Right where his had nearly ended.

He felt helpless. But he hated that he even felt that.

He remembered panicking so much in that driver's seat, so much so he'd nearly made himself sick. Shouting desperately for his sister to help him. Remembered her face through the window as she'd winced at what she'd seen inside the glovebox.

He barely remembered the extraction.

The in-between was blurry and he'd been sobbing so hard that only one thing could've brought him to his feet now that he was kneeling on the grass behind his car.

He'd nearly laughed as she pushed a policeman out the way, ignoring the orders for her to stay away. After all, there was still a live bomb inside the car. But she'd paid it no mind and had been kept away long enough. She ran across the cordon, her skin beneath the sundress she was wearing flushed with heat, exhaustion and outright terror. Her bare knees hit the grass with a thud, they'd be stained later, as she threw her arms around him, pulling him into a helpless hug.

If he wasn't so upset, he'd have worried about how covered in nervous sweat he was, how unbearably terrible he must have looked with his tear-streaked face. He'd never cried so much in front of her before. Even now as he snakes his arms around her waist, pulling her close, he'd buried his face in her neck so she wouldn't see. He could feel her breathing heavily, her heart beating fast, and how much she was trying not to cry at finally feeling him in her arms.

She settled for running her hands through his hair, damp from the heat and sweat, whispering his name as if to bring him crashing back into the reality where they were both here. He was safe.

She always made him feel safe. Wanted. It was a feeling Billy didn't know he needed before she came along.

But as usual.

He'd fucked it up.

After Cranstead, she did everything. All the cooking, cleaning, making sure he was taken to the police station to submit his statement. Sometimes it felt like she was more his secretary than a girlfriend.

At first, he appreciated her company, her willingness to commit herself to his wellbeing. And it wasn't like she wasn't selfless before, she'd always been good to him, but she'd really turned to the dial up to 10.

Some weeks in, it began to have the opposite effect. He felt like shit.

It felt like he was a kid again. And while, deep down, he wanted her help, he couldn't help but feel like she was pitying him. And he didn't need any more fucking pity. That's all anyone does. The further away the Cranstead Fields incident got, the more his parents returned to their previous conversations. Jobs. Commitments. When he and she would move in together. What he was going to do with his life.

As if it was just as simple as just forgetting it. As if the experience hadn't torn him apart.

She began to notice something was off a few weeks after the incident. He was recluse, giving one-word answers annoyed, spending most of his time smoking out the balcony doors of his flat instead of eating.

He couldn't bear to look at her. Didn't want to see that sinking look on her face. To come to the realisation that their relationship was failing and entering that murky, horrid form, where you know you should end it, but neither party wants to say it.

He thought, she had realised sooner than she wanted to admit. She loved him and wanted to be there for him, like any good girlfriend would be. She stood, watching him have his cigarette with his back to her, her overnight bag strung over her shoulder, wondering what she should say in response to what he'd just said.

"I don't need your help and I don't need you"

She opened her mouth a few times, willing something to come out. But she was too hurt to reply. She knew what that really meant.

She thought about writing a note. But instead, holding the hot tears back, she threw her bag in her car and sat in the driver's seat for a moment before gathering the strength to leave. Billy watched her car, a tiny little Volkswagen, pull away. And never come back.

With her, the families and tourists also left London, making way for the dull, wet humidity that Autumn came with. Even though they never moved in together, he felt the loss of her presence in his flat. Every time he came home, it slapped him in the face and if he felt shit before, when she was here, he felt even worse now for having broken up with her the way he did.

He hadn't even had the courage to really say it out loud. Nor to face her.

Billy did what he usually did, and accepted the feeling with open arms, dragging himself further down into a spiralling era of depression. Therapy did fuck all these days, he thought. Just paying someone else to take pity on you, which is the last thing he needed.

The flat slowly became a tip without him really even realising, packets of empty cigarettes piled up and all he did was go out every now and then for food and pop by the jobcentre. Not like there was much out there at the moment. Job seekers allowance would have to do for now.

Today was no different. With Autumn came shorter days and he'd barely realised, stuck in the jobcentre that it had become dark and mercilessly rainy. He pulled his hoodie over his head, stuck his hands in his pockets and went out into the pelting showers. It soaked through his clothes immediately, not dressed for such weather. Hair damp and sticking to his head and his jeans clinging uncomfortably to his legs with every step.

Pulling out his vibrating phone, he declined the call from Lana and shoved it back in his pocket. She'd been on his case like no other. Asking where his girlfriend was and how he'd let himself get like this. She was always the one to call him out, he hated it on one hand, but on the other it was nice to have it handed to him plainly sometimes.

Not today though, he thought.

The weather was unrelenting, rain pelted down so quick he could scarcely raise his head without it getting in his eyes.

He stepped off the curb to cross the road, without looking. A pair of headlights screeched to a halt.

"Jesus!" He pulled back onto the pavement again, face illuminated by the bright lights as he squinted.

He'd only realised what was going on when the driver's side opened. Her Volkswagen still had the lights on and the windscreen wipers were still quickly whirring.

She stood out the car slightly, her otherwise dry hair now gathering drops of rain, her jeans now a darkened blue the longer she stood there.

He felt his neck get hot, seeing her now after so long.

"Billy" were the only words that came from her lips,

"Fucks sake…" he turned a bit to walk away, not looking back even when he heard the car door slam shut.

"Billy!" She called after him, rain slapping on the concrete as she jogged up to him and pulled on his arm, "Billy, stop"

He pulled his arm away, looking down at her, "what!"

"I'm not letting you walk home in this. Get in" she said, voice elevated over the sound of the rain, which was running all over her face, down her neck, soaking her clothes right through.

"I didn't ask for your help"

"Would you stop being so fucking stubborn for one second?" She countered, clearly annoyed. They stared one another down for a moment, ignoring the ways their stomachs fluttered to see each other again.

"Come on, get in" she said, softer this time. Both of them now completely sodden.

He watched her get back in the car, torn at whether he should or not. He was still a good fifteen minute walk from his flat and already wet through, his shoes as well.

A short five minute drive in the car with his ex was a tough choice.

He opened the passenger door, eyeing the seat for a moment. He leaned forward, and opened the glovebox to find it empty (apart from her logbook and various other scraps), his heart going a million miles an hour. Eyes darted about the footwell, desperate to see if it was safe or not.

"It's alright, Billy…" she said softly from the driver's seat. In the low light of the car, he'd almost forgotten how pretty she was.

To both of them, it was clear that there was still love there. But neither wanted to be the first to say it. Or even acknowledge its existence.

He swallowed nervously and slumped into the passenger seat, suddenly feeling bad at how wet the seats must be. But it didn't seem like she minded. She just put the car in gear and drove the familiar five minutes to his flat in relative silence, apart from the quiet hum of the radio.

Of course the first time he's in a car in months, it's with her.

She pulled up to the curb, keeping the car running, as if she'd expected him to open the door and just run out, without saying anything. But Billy surprised himself, sat firmly in the passenger seat, he didn't move.

He didn't know what was happening to him. But for some reason, now that he had her back within reach, he didn't want to let her go.

He felt like a dick. For treating her as he did back then, and even tonight, when she'd offered him a lift, not expecting to even come in for a cuppa, he'd been cold and reclusive.

She turned off the ignition, looking over at him as he stared distantly into his lap, "You alright?" She asked carefully.

He wished he hadn't caved and looked at her, but he did. And his mouth went completely dry when he met her gaze. She made him feel so safe. So safe. Even now, when there was no real danger or chance of it, her mere presence seemed to calm that quick pounding of his heart.

"Do uh…you wanna come in?"

It came out more desperate than he'd intended. But he didn't regret saying it.

One of her hands noticeably gripped the steering wheel tighter, and he could see the internal battle she was fighting. Deciding whether or not it was a good idea.

She cleared her throat, unbuckling her seatbelt, "Sure, yeah…"

Billy winced remembering how messy the flat was when he'd left, and wondered what she'd think. He knew she was never the type to judge, but it embarrassed him all the same.

He felt his heart pitter patter in his chest at seeing her in his flat again, where she used to spend so much of her time. Where they'd nuzzle close on his tiny sofa, watching old 90s movies. Where she'd make him breakfast every Sunday morning, without fail. Where she'd come home after a bad day, seeking nothing but the comfort of being wrapped up in bed with him, stroking her hair.

"Tea? Coffee?" He asked, slipping into the kitchen. She followed, her hands wrapped around herself from the chill of being damp.

"Tea…thanks"

The loud, unrelenting hiss of the kettle filled the silence for a bit. Billy was trying to figure out what to say, keeping his hands busy fiddling with the teaspoon. He hated this. Hated that now they had to pretend to be strangers. As if they hadn’t spent the last few years devoted to each other. Spent night after night in his bedroom, basking in the fucked-out glow of the evening watching whatever was on late night telly ‘til either of them fell asleep.

Milk. No Sugar.

She suppressed the smile that he remembered how she liked it.

She nods her head whispering a thanks as he hands it to her, palm over the top of the steaming mug. It must hurt, she thinks. But he gives it to her this way so that she can put her fingers through the handle and not scald herself. At this small, tiny act of kindness on Billy’s part, she can’t help it, she does smile. A sad one. But a smile nonetheless.

His hallway that leads to the living room and bedroom is a bit cluttered, with his several pairs of Adidas shoes piled near the entrance, where he’d toed them off and never bothered to put them away. Billy brushes behind her to carry his own cuppa to the living room, the warmth in her tummy doesn’t go amiss either. He’s a lot taller than she is, one of the things she always shamelessly loved about him.

On the corkboard are several receipts, important looking bills as well as some letters from the NHS, easily spotted with the blue header.

“Still going to therapy then?” she asked, voice half-raised to reach him in the living room.

The therapy I organised, she thinks.

“Sometimes, yeah” he answers quietly.

The living room is a reflection of Billy. Messy, not put-together, various items strewn about the room like empty cans of beer and old letters he’d not bothered to throw away. It’s not necessarily a disgusting mess like old plates of food, more just items, but worry still gnaws inside her at how he is currently living.

She looks out the balcony doors, mostly to avoid looking right at him sat on the sofa, bouncing his leg anxiously and at the obvious way he is also trying not to be caught looking at her.

"How's your parents"

She looked at him only briefly, "Alright. Dad's retired now. Moved to Australia last month. I'm paying them rent til the mortgage runs out"

Billy's eyebrows raised in surprise. The thought of her in that house by herself was a sobering one and he thought she must be lonely there all alone.

She'd always come to his flat, for a sense of privacy and independence, but also to do the things they couldn't when she was in their house.

Those lazy weekend mornings, warm beneath the sheets with their bodies pressed together. Sleepily brushing the sheets from her bare skin to touch it, tracing all her feminine lines and curves. Her breath against his neck, hurried and needy. Fucking her into the mattress until the early afternoo-

"You're being quiet" she said, almost so quiet he didn't hear. Billy steeled his expression, to try and make it obvious he wasn't thinking about all the times he'd had her in that very bed. Like he didn't know all her sweet spots, the ones that made her breathe his name in a way that couldn't possibly be replicated. In a way that made his stomach lurch into his chest in flutters.

"I don't know what you want me to say" she was holding the mug in both hands, staring out the balcony windows, looking at her car outside, being hammered with rain.

Billy poked his cheek with his tongue, hands still clasped on his lap, thinking.

"Think it's me who owes you an explanation" he replied, voice low. Like he was a child in trouble. What he'd said made her look over at him, her face and hair still damp.

"I don't know" she put the mug down, turning to him, as if she didn't trust herself to hold it, "is it?"

He forced himself to look at her, hating the way she was trying to mask how troubled she was.

“Look, I know you’re upset-”

She scoffs, pulling her tears back, crossing her arms, “Understatement of the year”

“I don’t want a fucking fight right now”

“Neither do I. But I have a feeling your explanation will make one” she kept shifting her weight from foot to foot, nervous.

Billy sighed, “I just-I didn’t feel like myself. Realised you were too good for me, and that someday you’d realise it too” he explains quietly, hands clasped together, “Thought why not speed up the process”

“And you think you know what I want, do you?” she counters, her fingers digging slightly into her palm, trying to ignore the way her chest is getting tight.

“I just want you to be happy. Sometimes you can’t get that with someone dragging you down like I was doing”

She laughs, a short puff of air off her chest, hardly able to believe what’s coming out his mouth.

“I didn’t do all that I did for my fucking health, Billy. I did it because I loved you. And not once did I ever make you feel bad for it, for giving you space” she argues, catching her breath a moment, “I just-”

“It’s not about that” Billy says sharply,

“Isn’t it? You said you didn’t need my help, remember? Or is that just a Billy way of saying you don’t love me anymore?”

“I do love you” his expression could have fooled her. He looks exasperated and angry, frustrated.

“You have a funny way of showing it” she snaps, “I was just trying to help you”

She steps back a little when Billy stands up, his height shocking her for a moment as she has to crane her neck to see his face. His fists are clenched hard beside him, body quite literally shaking with the anger he’s trying so desperately to keep in.

"You were suffocating me!”

She scoffs, “Oh I’m sorry, I’ll refer to the handbook next time my boyfriend is trapped in a car with a bomb in the glovebox, shall I?”

If he hadn't been so upset, he'd have laughed. She was always funny. Unintentionally as well. Yet another thing he loved about her.

He must have shown a little bit of it on his face, because she shook her head, “Oh I’m funny now, am I?”

It didn’t shake the small smile from his face. Billy only swallowed over the lump in his throat, feeling uncomfortably hot against the still damp hoodie that was sticking to his chest. His eyes softened instantly and he couldn’t bear to look at her as he thought about what he might say.

“It just made me realise…I mean come on-I haven’t got a job, a future, my brain’s fucked…” he confessed quietly, “...I didn’t have anything but you and I can’t help but feel I drag you down-”

“Billy…”

“No-look at you, you’ve…got your life sorted out, a home…you deserve someone on your level, someone…that might not be me”

His heart lurches right into his throat, blue eyes brimmed with tears, when she steps forward to take his hands, almost outright sobbing at the feeling of her skin against his again. Her thumbs drawing soft and gentle circles on them.

“Don’t think like that, please..” she practically begged in such a soft, desperate tone, “I could never ever imagine my life without you and when I had to-I just couldn’t…love you too much to do that”

Billy feels his heart hurting. For months it had been so rarely used. And now to feel it so full of love just in the last hour he’d seen her, the stretch to accommodate it was painful. But the nice kind.

“I nearly lost you” she chokes out, “And I hated that I couldn’t do a single thing about it…”

He feels his mouth go dry. Thinking back, after the incident, she never did cry about anything. Rather, she pretended to be the rock, emotional walls built high, so that Billy could allow himself to let go.

He was so absorbed, perhaps rightly so, in his own situation. How he'd felt. That he hadn't stopped to think how broken she'd been by what happened, and all he could think about was that desperate hug she'd given him that day. How tightly she held him, her hands touching every piece of him she could to check it wasn’t some cruel dream.

She was hurting just as much as he was.

"I'm so fucking sorry, I-" he paused halfway, choking up and unable to form the rest of it once he saw her teary eyes.

He could've sobbed when she put her hand so gently to his face, her small thumbs wiping away the wetness on his cheeks. She gave a small watery laugh, her smile breaking through the sheer exhaustion of her heartbreak in her eyes.

"You're really fucking thick sometimes, you know that" she laughed softly.

And he couldn't help it, he let out somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Finally allowing himself to run his fingers through her hair, some strands drying and some still stuck together, forming waves in their wake. Another thing he loved about her.

"It's a Washington trait" he replied, his voice quiet and desperate. Both of them trying hard not to lose it again and cry.

"I know, '' she said with a genuine smile, her eyes lighting up in front of him again from the glow of a street lamp outside.

It wasn’t clear who moved first, but neither of them cared enough to think. If her hands on his face was a small slice of heaven, having her lips against him again was paradise. She just fit against him so perfectly as he wrapped his arms around her waist, desperate for the contact he had been denied in her absence. His hand dipping slightly beneath the hem of her shirt, feeling her tacky rain-soaked skin, almost groaning right against her mouth as he broke to take a breath. The hand that was at his face tugged him closer, deepening an ever-desperate kiss, like they had both been freed to desire each other.

His lips trailed from hers to her jaw, to her neck, inhaling her familiar scent, sighing at the perfume she would always wear. That hadn’t changed either. He left open-mouthed kisses against the tender skin there, trailing down the slope of her neck to her collarbones, hot and quick pants of his breath coming in huffs against it.

Her hand tightened on his shirt, “Billy…”

She’d hate it if she could see the boyish smirk on his face. At him knowing how much she wanted him, needed him. How hot her body got when they were near each other and how that familiar pool of arousal settled between her legs at the idea of this intimacy.

He pulls her to him by her waist, tugging her to straddle his lap as he lands on his sofa, resisting the urge to rut against her as he feels her clothed core rub against him. She can feel how hard he is, how hard he has been since the second they'd touched lips. Their kisses are having less effect, only delaying the inevitable wanton need they have for each other. And yet he chases her warm, soft lips and goes back for more which each break of breath.

The second she goes to pull off her top, throwing it somewhere across the room, his hands are on her, unclasping her bra to join it and his lips and tongue running over the newly exposed flesh. It smells like a mix of her perfume, her natural scent and the earthy smell that the rain leaves behind.

He savours every breath, every soft moan that tumbles out her mouth when he mouths one of her perk, rosy nipples, taking one and running his tongue all over it. His hand joining the other to give it attention. He could die a happy man buried between her tits like this, feeling the pleasant thrum of her heart beneath her ribs.

When her hand slips beneath the waistband of his jeans, wrapping around his cock, he groans against her chest, sending vibrations through her torso. She smiles a bit, with flushed cheeks, that he's already hard.

"Miss me?"

He'd missed her playfulness. But the way she's tugging at his length, squeezing ever so slightly harder when she gets to the tip, smearing precum over the head of it as it weeps with arousal. It gives her attitude a run for its money.

His half lidded gaze looks up at her, her hair framing her face no nicely in the dim light of the room. Rosy lips parted in anticipation of his reaction to her touch, glazed and kiss-bruised from before.

"Fuck…" he breathes, tipping his head back slightly.

With his eyes shut she dips her head to his neck, sucking and biting softly on his pulse point, speeding up the motions of her hand only slightly. But not enough. She skims over his clothed chest, letting her legs fall between his to the floor, her lips kissing just below his navel over the smattering of sandy blonde hair.

Billy looks down with a sort of admiration, watching the way she tugs his jeans over his hips, taking his boxers with it. Her mouth covers every bit of skin that's shown, taking his hot and aching length in one hand to give him some languid pumps before she dips her tongue against the base.

It's the teasing that makes Billy breathe faster. But nothing prepares him for the way her mouth sinks over his cock in one smoothe warm motion. After having been together for so long, she knew how to take him well and so she takes as much as she is able into her mouth, relaxing her jaw and using the other hand to pump whatever else she can't fit.

He pulls his hoodie over his head and she can see the way his muscles on his stomach flex, trying to hold back as much as he can. His fingers thread through her hair at the side of her face to the back, not pulling her on him, just holding her as she bobs her head against him, her tongue running against the vein on the underside, a motion that makes his fists tighten against her scalp. Every now and then when her eyes look up at him, his breath is stolen from his lungs and feels as if he might cum right there and then.

She hums around him appreciatively, enjoying the heady, intoxicating taste of him after so long. Not wanting to cum too soon, Billy gently pulls her off him, his cock shining with her spit and still standing hard against his stomach.

"You're so fucking good…" he whispers as his thumb drags over her bottom lip, tugging her to his own in a deep and wanton kiss. She pulls her jeans down with her underwear before sitting astride his narrow waist again, dragging her wetness over his cock as she sways her hips over him. Being naked in front of each other like this again is just so right, so basic and human, it's like nothing ever happened.

He smirks in the kiss at how ready she already is.

"Miss me?..."

Her face blushes with embarrassment and she playfully swats his shoulder, "shut up"

He reaches between them, running the head of his cock through her slick folds. It'd be so easy to just slide inside, to be enveloped by her warmth and feel the familiar ridges of her core, squeeze him just as tightly as they always had.

"Billy please…" she sobs as he teases her, moving away when she tries to sink down on him, "please just fuck me..."

He didn't need to be told twice.

He squeezed the flesh of her ass hard when he sank inside, leaving red marks against her skin as she stretched to accommodate his size. Her lips parted, eyes softly shut as a gasp escaped her mouth, matching his.

Their breaths mingled with each other as she took him fully, the head of his cock kissing that rough spot inside, easier in this position.

"You were fucking made for me…" he breathed against her lips, using her hips to move her on hip. She mewled out in pleasure, tears pricking the corners of her eyes at feeling him so deep inside her.

He moved her on top of him, back and forth, over and over again, fucking her using his own hold on her waist, meeting her halfway with his own pressing of his hips, watching the way her tits bounced with ever harsh thrust. Her sounds, every soft moan of his name, were music, only urging him on.

“God…Billy…” running her fingers through his hair, she held him close, lifting her hips to aid their chaotic fucking. Trying and failing to hold back the intensity of her moans as her first climax fills her limbs with warmth, thighs trembling around him and a series of expletives as he shoves himself harder into her through it. It takes the wind out of her for a moment while she gathers her breath, the lewd sound of her slick against the base of his cock the only sound in the room.

Only he could make her feel like this. Lose control like this. It didn't happen overnight either. At first he'd been apprehensive to show how much he wanted sex. But when she teased it out of him, it couldn't be contained any longer.

"Taking me so well-shit" he moaned out, her breasts against his face.

He could feel himself getting close.

She squeaked in surprise when her back met the sofa, looking up at Billy over her as his large palm pulled her legs apart again. He looked so good. Naked, his cock hard and covered in her arousal, lithe form and his face, rivalling that of a statue carved out of stone. Sharp jaw and nose, his soft blue eyes, sandy blonde hair now tousled from their intense lovemaking.

How could she not love him.

He was perfect.

He unapologetically gave that boyish Billy smile as he looked down at her, her chest speckled with heat from the passion of it all. Her tits moving with her breathing and her cheeks as she smiled lazily up at him, tinged with the prettiest pink he'd ever seen.

Billy remembered the last holiday they went on together, in the late spring. They'd driven to Cornwall with a hired minivan. And before arriving into Port Isaac, they'd stopped on a country road in the late afternoon when the sun touched the sea. He'd made love to her in the driver's seat and admired the way the orange sunset kissed the colour of her hair. She looked gorgeous then, face flushed and legs astride him.

How she looks at him now reminds him of that afternoon.

"What?" She asked, when he just sat and admired her.

He just shook his head, "You're just beautiful…"

He captured her lips with his own, leaning over and slowly teasing himself back inside her, sliding through with the aid of her new rush of arousal from her orgasm. Slowly like this, she feels every ridge, every vein and it does nothing to stem the desire to have him do whatever he wants. As long as it's with her.

With the soft thrust of his hips against her, pulling her legs around his waist, his hand runs up her front, between her breasts to her neck, gently holding her while he looks down to see how his cock just effortlessly disappears inside her over and over. His hips meetings hers slower than before but with just as much power, as if trying to imprint the shape of him inside her so they’d never forget how each other felt.

Billy bites at the skin between her neck and shoulder, hoping the marks take there, before pulling her leg up in his palm and pushing it higher so that he can raise himself and fuck down into her.

"Billy…don't stop…" she breathes as her eyes meet his. He can tell the new position reaches somewhere so incredibly deep that she clutches his shoulders for purchase, nails leaving half moon shaped indents in his skin.

"Fuck, you're so-" he chokes out, the veins in his neck pulsing with desire the more he feels himself losing control. Her mewls and moans fill the otherwise quiet room, whispering his name like a chant, "I'm gonna-"

"Yes…Billy…need you" she whispers, her hands gripping his shoulders again when the pressure inside her lets loose once again, making her tighten around him.

He cums with a shattered moan against her neck, rocking himself against her a few more times for friction before stilling inside her warm heat as it convulses around him, the aftershocks of he orgasm only serving to prolong the pleasure of his. He can feel his blood humming with hunger and a sense of completion, like he's found the other half he'd been after, and doesn't want to let it go now.

He can feel their heartbeats against each other, her chest meeting his with every sharp inhale. Her skin is so warm and soft against him, he never wants to know what it's like to not have her again.

When he looks down at her, her eyes find his quickly and for a moment they admire the fucked-out expressions on their faces, the large dilation of their pupils and how their touch goes form harsh and needy to tender and loving.

She smiles tiredly and he can still feel her heartbeat inside her, even as he begins to soften.

"Tea's gone cold…" he breathes out between pants.

Her laugh fills his heart with warmth, a genuine laugh with teeth and those little lines around her eyes. And he can't help but feel a bolt of pleasure up his spine at how the laugh reverberates through her body to his cock.

He falls to his side against the sofa, lazily pulling a blanket over them and pulling her to his chest, running his fingers through her wavy, slightly tangled hair. He kisses the crown of her head, inhaling her scent, musky from the rain with a whisper of her shampoo.

"Stay here…please…" he begs, his voice thick, as if he couldn't bear the rejection of her saying no. Not after everything. He even feels his chest tighten at the thought.

Her head moves to look up at him, reaching out to bring his face to hers, kissing his lips so tenderly it made him want to weep.

"I could never leave you…ever" she whispers against his lips, slotting hers against his once more, her hand ghosting over his heart. To feel how alive he is.

Those three words don't even need to be said. They both knew it. Knew it had never left even in their absence. When their hearts had been divided.

But for old time's sake, they said it anyway.

Dividers by @saradika

General Taglist: @risefallrise @valeskafics

Billy W Taglist: @fan-goddess & for my Billy simps @assortedseaglass

*Bold means I couldn’t tag, if I can't tag you you can always turn on notifications for when I post. DM me if you wanna be removed besties

[sitp-recs]

Any recs for funny mpreg? Can’t Fight the Moonlight (found here) is a fave. Love you and your blog xxxxxx

LOVE Can’t Fight the Moonlight! It’s one of my favorite fics and I’m always revisiting it. I haven’t read a lot of mpreg but here are other fun recs:

It's Okay, Love by nerakrose (G, 2.5k)

In which Draco accidentally takes Harry's fertility potion, gets hysterical, proceeds to name the kid a horrible, in Harry's opinion, name, falls pregnant, insults Harry and traumatises the entire maternity ward. Not necessarily in that order.

You First, Loser by @lol-zeitgeistic (E, 6k)

When Harry and Draco’s “not serious” three-year relationship results in a one-in-a-million pregnancy, they decide who will be the unlucky one to tell their families in a very mature and adult fashion that indubitably proves their inherently stellar parenting abilities: with a bet over a (probably rigged, let’s be real; Draco is playing) game of Exploding Snap.

The Betting Men by @dracogotgame (T, 6k)

When Draco and Hermione get pregnant at the same time, their husbands take it upon themselves to make a small bet or five. This was Mistake Number One.

Up The by @shiftylinguini (E, 7.5k)

“I feel I need to point out,” Draco kissed gently over Harry’s Adam’s apple, “that this is the most Gryffindor approach to conception that could possibly exist.” Or: Harry's had madder ideas.

Expecting by @bixgirl1 (E, 9k)

Running into Malfoy wasn't a rare thing. But running into him coming out of the male pregnancy offices at St. Mungo's was downright shocking.

Shine On, You Crazy Diamond by @lagerloutfic (E, 42k)

Harry has probably always wanted Draco, it just took him a few years to figure that out. A story about the joy of discovering exactly who you are and how easy it can be once you do.

Edit: adding a rec from my followers:

Draco Malfoy and the Secret Inheritance by Nattish (E, 47k)

Draco is pregnant. Pregnant! At age 16, no less, and (if you hadn’t noticed) he’s a bloke. How on Earth did this happen? If that’s not upsetting enough, he has no idea who fathered the damn thing. Lust, lies, and scandal abound! EWE, NC-17

[torukmaktoskxawng]

tsamsiyu ta'em - strangers like me

Masterlist - part ten

Summary: Kayla continues to learn about island life with the Metkayina and also learns a bit more about her teachers along the way. Tonowari and Ronal find their student strange and intriguing.

Pairing: Ronal/Tonowari/Original Female Character

Tag: #tsamsiyu ta'em fic

posted on ao3

Word Count: 6k+

Taglist (bold indicates "could not tag"): @motheroffae @undeniableadrenaline @mooniequeen @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @heart-an0n @amiets2 @slutforsmut4ever @yeosxxx​ @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @sucker4angstt @inolaphoenix @ilovechickenwings tojisleftarm andyfromku @ivysully

A/N: I am so sorry for my absence! I wish I have a good excuse for being absent, but the truth is I'm not doing so hot in the real world rn. My job is cutting back hours and I barely have enough for rent. I'm getting a second job next month so hopefully, things smoothen out.

Here is the long-awaited update that I will kick myself for delaying in exchange for obsessively crying over Good Omens Season 2. Let the montage of Awa'atlu life commence! Again, thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy!

Note: The title is named after the Phil Collins song "Strangers Like Me" because Tarzan and Avatar just go together XD

To avoid having Ronal hunt her down again, Kayla got up earlier the next morning and made her way back to the village to join her brother's family for breakfast before her lessons. Kiri was definitely doing better and Tuk was excited that her aunt had decided to see them off before their busy days. After pleasant conversations and the promise to meet before their midday meal, the kids took off to pursue whatever they planned for the day. Kayla stood up with the intention of going to find either the tsahik or the olo'eyktan and so Jake walked her out of the marui as they talked.

"So Neteyam mentioned that you guys talked about what happened between Lo'ak and Ao'nung," Jake started off.

'Oh, boy, here we go,' Kayla thought as she tilted her head to glance back at him, feigning partial innocence, "Yes? What about it?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to let you know that it's already been handled, and it sounds like the boys are actually getting along now. Neteyam also mentioned that you didn't get to meet Ao'nung yesterday so I wanted to make sure you knew this before you went looking for a fight with the kid."

"Jake, how young do you think I am?" When his face twisted with hesitance, she rolled her eyes, "Don't answer that. What I'm trying to say is that I'm not a child, I'm older than I look, and believe it or not, I do realize this. You don't have to worry about me... but you could've been a little nicer to Lo'ak."

Jake refrained from also rolling his eyes, knowing his sister would say this. He wasn't blind. He was well aware that Kayla would always be quick to defend his youngest son, no matter what he did. Jake was half-convinced that Lo'ak could get away with murder as far as his aunt was concerned, "He knew he wasn't allowed to go beyond the reef but he went anyway. He was at fault as much as Ao'nung."

"I get that, but it feels as though Lo'ak received more punishment than the boys who actually put him in danger, and for what?"

"For picking fights."

"No, for defending his sister," her eyes narrowed, "Not that you would know what that means."

Jake took the verbal lashing in stride, internally sighing, "I can't punish the chief's son for what he does against my kids, Kayla."

At first, Kayla had every intention of cursing her brother out, but instead paused and tried rephrasing her response. Her eyes drifted to the reef while she recalled far-off memories, "I remember Mom and Dad were allowed to punish the neighbor kids if they misbehaved with us and no one would bat an eye."

The mention of his old life irked him, and he wasn't afraid to show that in his deep snarl, "Well, Mom and Dad aren't here and we're not on Earth," her posture visibly stiffens but doesn't interrupt. Jake's wave of anger is immediately replaced with guilt, so he opts in taking a breath before he could say anything else he might come to regret, "Things are different here. So be civil and keep the peace. Don't go picking fights with teenagers."

"I won't," she mutters darkly, the coldness in her eyes returning as she side-eyes him, reminding Jake that he still wasn't out of the storm regarding her, "That's what you're here for."

She doesn't stay long enough to hear whatever rebuttal he might have in mind. Instead, she walks down the pathways leading further into the village before calling back, "I'll see you later."

Tail lowered in distress and possibly shame, Jake could only turn back to the marui and try to go about his day as he normally would. He knew he deserved the petty insults and his sister's aggression toward him, especially after all the radio silence she had endured for months while he was here experiencing a new way of life, on top of everything else. He just wished Kayla could manage to let go of all the pain and anger like he did when he first began to learn the ways of the Omatikaya. Physically, Kayla's avatar hasn't changed apart from the new Na'vi trinkets she had added to her standard-issued cargo shorts and crop top. However, Jake had hoped her mentality toward him would change the more she learned how to be Na'vi. 

He knew he was a fool to get his hopes up so soon. 

Walking through the village, Kayla went down the same route Ronal had brought her yesterday, hoping she would catch sight of the tsahik. Again, there were some stares from the Metkayina, but they didn't last as long as the day before and the reef people didn't look as bothered by her appearance. The Na'vi go about their day without much acknowledgment to Kayla, and before she knew it, she had made it to her destination, the craft huts she had met Tsireya just the other day.

It wasn't hard to find Ronal among the crowd of mottled skin patterns. Her accessories, tattoos, and rounded stomach are a dead giveaway, and the tsahik easily found Kayla in the crowd in turn, though it wasn't as hard, given the circumstances. Ronal's eyes visibly squint when her gaze lands on Kayla, then the Na'vi woman pulls away from her task to rise and meet the avatar. Another Na'vi stands to join her, a teenage boy and Kayla had an inkling who it was.

When Ronal approached Kayla, she motioned to the boy behind her, "My son, Ao'nung."

Smiling timidly, Kayla greets Ao'nung as respectfully as possible, though even she could admit her smile was tighter than usual. Ao'nung didn't say a word back, instead deciding to simply nod and avoid eye contact. His ears drooped and his head lowered like this was torture for him. Clearly, he was being coerced into being here with Kayla, but she decided not to fault him for it. Perhaps he's already being punished enough for his wrongdoings that he didn't need Kayla to torture him further about it.

Ronal doesn't appear to notice nor care for Ao'nung's discomfort and sternly stated to Kayla, "We will be teaching you how to communicate underwater. Do not fall behind or you will be left behind."

Kayla refrains from the small smile that threatened to escape her. Ronal's words vaguely reminded her of Neytiri's way of teaching Jake both from the stories she heard and the video log Jake had recorded. As Jake had once phrased it, 'Learn fast or die.'

With that in mind, Kayla doesn't complain and silently follows Ronal and Ao'nung away from the craft huts and further down the pathways. It didn't take long before they brought their guest to a large marui. It wasn't as big as the communal pod for the feasts, but it was significantly taller and wider than the normal ones Kayla has seen, including the Sullys' marui. She took note of the different colors of weaving and decorations adorning the home, such as the totem and skimwing skull hanging over the front entrance in greeting, a small windchime of shells softly dancing in the warm breeze. If Kayla had to guess, this was the olo'eyktan and tsahik's pod. Soon after stepping inside, both Ronal and Ao'nung lower to the ground, sitting back on their legs and Kayla does the same, proceeding to listen as Ronal starts off the lesson.

Nothing eventful happened as Kayla learned the Metkayina equivalent of sign language. Ao'nung never said a word regarding Lo'ak or any incident that happened with Kayla's nieces and nephews prior to her arrival. In fact, Ao'nung didn't say a whole lot other than chiming in a time or two to help Kayla with the lesson. Perhaps he never said a word outside of the subject of his people's sign language because his mother had been giving him sharp looks throughout the whole lesson. It was hard to miss. Ronal wasn't exactly a subtle creature. She openly expressed whatever she was feeling, unafraid of hurting someone's feelings, not even her son's, it would seem.

It was amusing to find all the similarities between the mother and son, both physically and spiritually. Their glare, eyes, and even their pout were the same. Kayla even dared herself to look a little closer without getting caught and noticed that Ao'nung inherited the same mole as his mother's, both spots found above their lip, on the top right side.

She must have lost track in time as the suns rose higher in the sky. Before she knew it, her next teacher had shown up to take her to her next destination. Tonowari stepped up into the marui, his large frame blocking the majority of the light coming in through the entryway. His gaze brushes over Kayla and Ao'nung before his eyes land on the tsahik, "Ma Ronal. Is this a good time?"

One of Kayla's ear flick to the side at the term of endearment, glancing over to the woman in question who only firmly nods and stares back at Kayla, "Go on. My mate will continue your riding lessons from yesterday."

Kayla mutters her thanks and stands up to join Tonowari. As they turn toward the exit, the olo'eyktan points back to his son, "Ao'nung. Remain with your mother."

"But, Father--"

"Do not question me, boy," the tone in Tonowari's voice was a little louder and stronger than normal, and even Kayla could feel her spine straightening up, despite not being under his scrutiny. Kayla briefly glances back at Ao'nung and notes the way he shrinks in on himself, still unable to look her in the eye, clearly embarrassed. Kayla looks away and follows Tonowari out of the marui, shadowing his footsteps as he addresses her, "I apologize for my son."

For the moment, Kayla had the empathy to pity the teenager and decided to soften the blow against Ao'nung, "There's nothing to apologize for. He was a pleasant enough teacher."

His voice had reverted back to its normal tone, significantly smoother and kinder on the ears, "Did you learn well?"

"I think so. It's not that different compared to what the Sky People have," when he flashed a questioning glance over his shoulder at her, she further explained, "They have a language that requires hand motions, too."

He doesn't question it further, instead looking back ahead and leading Kayla down to the docks. The ilu anxiously await their arrival in the water below, clicking and calling excitedly as Tonowari pulls a harness over one of their heads. The two adults get into the water and stand beside the earnest ilu, Tonowari trying to calm the creature whilst Kayla makes tsaheylu. She mounts the creature with ease, remembering yesterday's lesson and dreading the idea of falling off again as Tonowari begins reassuring her, "You need to exude confidence. Tell the ilu that you will command them and you will be respected by them. Do not give them space to come up with their own ideas."

She takes a few deep breaths to calm her nerves and nodded, waiting until Tonowari steps away before commanding the ilu to move forward using only the bond connecting them to each other's thoughts. The creature obliges and all appears to be going smoothly. Kayla manages to instruct the ilu to swim faster before eventually sinking underneath the water's surface. The ilu picks up speed and even as she clings on for dear life, Kayla could already feel her grip loosening. Angry and determined, Kayla tightens her thighs around the saddle of the creature and demands her bonded steed to leap out of the water and let her breathe, no room for nonsense.

To her shock and delight, the ilu chirped happily and sprung out of the water like a bullet, briefly flying through the air and allowing Kayla to take a breath before diving back in. She was so shocked that she almost lost her grip before regaining composure and asking the ilu to do it again, in case she had only imagined her success. The ilu was ecstatic to leap out of the water again and did so without a fuss, and this time, Kayla laughed as the shock wore off.

On the surface, the woman is met with a small audience. Lo'ak, Neteyam, and Tsireya were out riding their own respective ilu that afternoon before briefly pausing to watch a school of fish swim all around them, tickling their feet. Just as Kayla appeared to finally be getting the hang of riding an ilu, the teenagers caught notice of her as well. Lo'ak is the first to spot her, cupping his hands over his mouth as he crows in encouragement, "Go, Auntie! Woo-hoo! Yeah! You got it!"

Kayla laughs as Neteyam and Tesireya begin to cheer her on as well, their voices carried by the winds as Kayla and her ilu dive into the water and back out again. By the time Kayla remembered herself and returned to her teacher, Tonowari had his arms crossed but otherwise appeared pleased by her improvement, tail leisurely swaying behind him with curiosity.

~~~~~~~~~

Weeks go by since Kayla first arrived in Awa'atlu, and despite having to adapt to yet another completely different culture, Kayla had to admit that it was getting easier as time went on. She originally thought the ways of the Metkayina were a cakewalk compared to the Omatikaya, but maybe it was because she learned from the Forest People first that made learning from the Reef People easier than she originally thought it would.

She makes sure to reiterate this to Norm and the other humans every time she sees them. When everyone in Awa'atlu is meant to be resting, Kayla retreats to her campsite and secures her avatar form before closing her eyes and breaking the neural link. The next time she opens her eyes, it's within the link gurney back at High Camp.  Norm and Max are always there to greet her, asking about her headaches and other health problems. There were days even Kayla had to admit were rough. After spending so much time in her avatar form, it's starting to strain the link connecting herself to her human form and it causes massive headaches every time she breaks a new record of not reporting back for days on end. To distract her friends from lecturing her, Kayla just updates everyone on Kiri's condition and relays any messages Jake or the rest of the Sully family wanted her to bring. In return, the scientists or even the Na'vi, such as Txe'la and Meui, would update her on any information regarding Ardmore or any Sky People activity. 

She's always left disappointed when they say the same thing. No one has seen Spider. 

Trying not to let the news discourage her, Kayla always wakes back up in her avatar form in better spirits so as not to worry Jake and his family. Kayla continues to treat the days as normal, continuing her lessons and helping out in any way she can so as not to overstay her welcome. When she wasn't following Tonowari or Ronal around, Kayla was usually in the company of her nieces, nephews, and their new friends.

Tsireya was one of those friends, and she was such a sweet girl who would happily entertain Kayla in any endeavor. When she wasn't busy, one of Kayla's favorite pastimes was helping Tuk and Tsireya find seashells for their hair and any jewelry idea they had in mind. Tsireya, as Tuk said, knew all the best spots where the shells were always fully intact and not crushed into pieces by the harsh tides. During these little adventures, Kayla, Tuk, and Tsireya would learn more about each other, bonding over the fact that they were all their families' younger sisters. 

The sign language was easier than the verbal language, but Kayla felt as though she had a rug pulled from beneath her feet when Ronal knowingly stated that she was going to be teaching her student a third language. The tsahik, with the help of other Metkayina, began to teach Kayla the language of the tulkun, the sea creature Kayla learned to be the spiritual animal and companion to the Reef People, as the ikran is to Forest People. Apparently, not even Kayla's nieces and nephews have progressed as far as learning the tulkun language yet, and they became ecstatic to realize that they would be learning this alongside their aunt. Joining Ronal in these lessons with Kayla and the Sully kids would also be Tsireya and Rotxo, which only excited the forest kids more. Ronal wasn't as pleased with her own student when she caught Kayla fondly watching the children interact more than once. 

Kayla had to learn this extra language on top of her breathing lessons, the latter of which was taught by both Tonowari and Ronal. Sometimes they would teach her separately, and other times they would do so together, but whatever the case may be, it didn't matter to Kayla. She would carefully listen to whoever was teaching her, and sometimes she listened so intently that she caught herself observing her teachers a little too closely. 

Like Tonowari's eyes for example. Kayla noted they were a light blue at first as she sat cross-legged across from him while they practiced breathing exercises. But upon closer inspection, Kayla noticed specks of green engulfed by those blue orbs, like clumps of islands surrounded by warm sparkling oceans.

He was a clenched fist with a gentle touch. Kayla greatly admired him for being someone who could easily take advantage of his strength and position above his people but chooses to be kind and soft-spoken instead.

 It was fascinating for Kayla to see just how different the Metkayinas' eyes were compared to the Omatikayas'. Whereas every Na'vi of the Forest had orange or yellow cat-like eyes, the ones who live off of the reef had rounder and bigger eyes, not to mention they had a variety of different shapes, sizes, and colors. 

Like Ronal's eyes. The opposite of her mate's, Kayla noted that Ronal's eyes were more green than blue, with specks of a warm, gold color, like a sunset reflecting off the ocean surface. 

She was orphic, but that's as far as Kayla allowed herself to describe the tsahik.

There was plenty to say about Ronal, but Kayla thought it best not to linger on any of the words bouncing around in her head. It was clear to her that the tsahik will always disapprove of Kayla and her presence among the Metkayina, so Kayla didn't want to compliment the Na'vi woman too much, especially since she doesn't intend on staying for very long.

Her stay was still very much temporary, at least in Kayla's eyes, as she still intends on going back to the forest to find Spider. For now, however, she was content with her small campsite just inside the treeline of the Metkayina island, a campsite that Ronal appears to disapprove of along with everything else about Kayla. The tsahik still has to occasionally venture out and find Kayla among the trees if she is in need of the avatar woman, like today when Ronal had the mind to take the time to find Kayla. It wasn't hard since the demon had kept her promise and never moved her campsite so she would be right where Ronal could find her. Still, Kayla was apologetic when Ronal found her and the tsahik begrudgingly told the foreigner to follow her back to the village.

Ronal brings her to the shoreline and recruits her to help fix an ilu pen that had begun to wither with age. Tonowari was already hard at work on it and briefly looked up to greet the two women when they sat down on the edge of the pathway and gracefully slipped into the water with him. After a brief instruction from him, Kayla gets to work in silence, and Ronal isn't opposed to doing the same. The silence wasn't as awkward as they were in the past, but out of the corner of her eye, Kayla could clearly see that something was bothering the tsahik, as Ronal wasn't ashamed of openly frowning while watching Kayla work. She didn't appear to be glaring in disapproval, but she looked... frustrated. It was as if she was trying to figure out a complicated puzzle. Kayla briefly glanced at the Na'vi positioned on the other side of her and noticed that Tonowari was much more subtle than his mate. Unlike Ronal, he only snuck glances at Kayla and her work here and there and did his best to hide whatever expression was on his face.

"Am I doing it wrong?"

"No. You're doing well," a compliment was not what she was expecting and it shows as Kayla's ears perk up and her eyes briefly widen. Ronal pointedly ignores the reaction and blatantly asks, "Why do you not stay with your brother's family at night?"

Kayla looked at Ronal, nose scrunched slightly in confusion, all the while completely unaware of the stare Tonowari sent to his mate from above Kayla's head, "Why would I?"

"Group sleep is also customary in the Metkayina."

"What's a group sleep?"

By Eywa, did the Omatikaya teach this alien woman anything? Ronal huffs out an irritated sigh, "Families sleep in large groups, usually in their swaynivi. Some clan members will sleep alone or with their mate just as long as they return to their family's nivi in a short period of time. Otherwise, they're deemed spiritually unhealthy. It is unsafe for one to sleep alone."

"I see," Kayla's ears pin back and her posture straightens, understanding the question now while pointedly staring down at her work on weaving the ilu pen together instead of addressing Ronal, "Well, where I'm from, that's called an invasion of privacy. I would assume that the families who sleep in large groups mostly contain parents and their children, correct?"

She doesn't wait for a response as she further explains with a small distaste in her mouth, "Since I'm neither of those, I don't want to invade my brother's and his children's privacy. Thank you for your concern, but I've been alone for a very long time. I can assure you that I am just fine with the sleeping arrangements I have now."

Even Ronal can sense a dismissal when she hears it in Kayla's voice. It was clear that the alien woman didn't want to further discuss this topic and so the tsahik didn't push it. Returning to her work, Ronal now briefly shared a glance with Tonowari but he pointedly kept his mouth closed during the whole conversation and after.

Luckily, the silence is saved by Neteyam as the teenager arrives with a purpose, slightly bouncing over the pathways above the adults' heads, "Auntie. My father is looking for you."

Kayla's discomfort visibly melts before Tonowari and Ronal's eyes. She looks up and smiles at the Na'vi boy, "Tell your father he can come and get me himself next time instead of sending you out. You should be elsewhere, enjoying the reefs and hunting with your friends."

She briefly turned back to the clan leaders, silently asking for approval to leave with her eyes flicking between the two Metkayina. Both nodded and openly watch as Kayla turns back to Neteyam, smiling up at her nephew as she rises up onto the pathway and follows him out, gently shoving him once to get him to pick up the pace so she didn't trip on his heels.

Neteyam huffed a small laugh as they walked, but the sound falls in replace of shame. He was visibly acting a little shy as he avoided eye contact, "I am sorry that I told my father about our conversation. I should have asked for your permission."

"Hey, no harm," she nudged him, "It's not like our talks are meant to be a secret or anything. It's nice that you can trust your father with everything; trust him enough to talk about whatever you want. As long as you're comfortable, kiddo."

"Was your father not like that?"

Kayla bit her tongue to refrain from visibly wincing, staring directly ahead instead of at her nephew, "No. I don't think he was. Not from what I can remember. Mostly I relied on Tommy and your dad growing up."

"What was my father like as an older brother? Am I like him?"

Kayla briefly grew quiet as they walked, pondering about how she could best word this to her oldest nephew. She tried seeing Jake in Neteyam, she really did, but whenever she tried comparing the teenager's best traits, they only remind her of Neytiri. And when Kayla thinks about Jake, all the pain and other torture he had put her through both intentionally and by accident, she couldn't even fathom Neteyam doing the same thing to his own siblings. Physically and mentally, deep down she knew that Neteyam was nothing like his father, and she was secretly grateful for that.

So instead of agreeing, Kayla simply smiled while staring the teenager in the eyes so he could see her sincerity, "No, 'Teyam. You're like Tommy. He was the older brother. When it comes to how you treat your siblings, you remind me of him, and I think your father sees it, too."

~~~~~~~~~

When Ronal isn't busy with her duties as tsahik or teaching Kayla, she is making sure Neytiri also adapts to their way of life. Although the former tsakarem had been comfortably accustomed to island life by the time her sister-in-law joined her family, Ronal still takes Neytiri into the jungle for a second pair of hands to gather the needed plants and herbs for her stock. Today was no different as the two women stumbled across a large jungle tree, larger than any of the others around them. Instead of following Ronal's suggestion to skip this tree and its healing fruits in exchange for a shorter one, Neytiri stops and shakes her head. Ronal was adamant about moving on since she was in no condition to climb and wasn't built to climb trees even if she wasn't currently pregnant. 

Neytiri still shook her head in defiance and simply said, "You need Forest People."

The Forest woman opens her mouth and calls out at the top of her lungs, causing Ronal's ears to twitch in response to her whooping and cawing. Notifying her family about her location, it didn't take long for Jake, Kayla, and all the Sully children to come running to Neytiri's call. 

Neytiri proudly smiles at her family while explaining why they had been summoned, "Our tsahik needs the fruit from the top of this tree and the ones surrounding it."

The others take a moment to look at one another before Kayla breaks the silence, briefly tapping Tuk's shoulder before running off, "'Last one to the top is a rotten egg!"

Tuk squeals and immediately chases after her aunt. The older Sully kids smile and break into fits of laughter, following suit and running after Kayla and their little sister. They all leap up, grabbing onto the lower branches before lifting themselves up, climbing expertly higher without their arms protesting the weight of their bodies. Ronal watched them climb higher and higher, keeping her expression stoic while observing the way Kayla makes the collecting and scavenging into a game for her nieces and nephews, challenging them to see who can gather the most fruit. In the corner of her eye, Ronal could still see Neytiri standing beside her, also watching the trees and smiling fondly up at her family. Jake soon stands beside his wife, hands on his hips while watching his sister and his children with a careful eye.

It was then did Ronal address Toruk Makto directly, flashing a face of disapproval, "Does your sister always act so childish?"

Jake's posture stiffens and he struggles to find the right words under the tsahik's watchful eye, "Well-! Uh..."

"No, only with the children," Neytiri answers for him, eyes hardened when they meet Ronal's as if daring her to speak again, "She plays with them because she wants to remind them that they are still just that. Children."

~~~~~~~~~

Kiri woke up bothered about something and everyone could tell. That girl didn't know how to hide her feelings no matter how badly she wanted to, the definition of an open book. Even though no one knew why she was upset, they could clearly tell that whatever it was, it had something to do with her aunt. Kiri wasn't necessarily cold to Kayla, but the teenager would go quiet and only speak in one-word responses whenever the older woman spoke directly to her. 

Kayla decided that she needed to fix whatever was going on between herself and her oldest niece, so she offered to take the children out as the afternoon slipped into the evening. Neytiri suggested bringing them swimming through the reefs to collect barnacles and other underwater plants for tonight's supper, a passing time a lot of the villagers tend to do. Kayla takes up the idea and presents it to the Sully kids, who all agree to go, some more enthusiastic than others.

Tuk immediately splashes into the water and her brothers chase after her. Meanwhile, Kayla and Kiri linger on the beach, watching them disappear into the ocean. Kayla had tried breaking the tension with a small smile, "So when are you gonna show me how to use those underwater fairy wings?" 

She was hoping for a small laugh or even a smile, but Kiri does neither. Instead, she looks sad and distracted, looking out over the horizon where the sky meets the sea, daydreaming of other lands... of home. Kayla bravely touches the girl's shoulder, and when Kiri looks up, her aunt could see the concern plain on her face. The avatar woman squeezes Kiri's shoulder, "What is it?" 

Kiri bites the inside of her cheek before giving in, letting out a small sigh, "When are you going back to the forest?" She quickly understands how that could easily be misinterpreted and corrects herself, "It's just that-- you promised you'd look for Spider. And yet, you're here and he still hasn't been found yet."

Kayla relaxes both in posture and touch, removing her hand from Kiri's shoulder and instead letting it fall to her side, "I'll likely be gone by the end of the week, but for Norm's peace of mind, I'm going to be running a few tests on you so he and I both know you'll be okay," silence follows and Kayla reaches out once more, letting her hand gently grasp Kiri's arm, "Kiri, look at me."

The teen does so, a little belligerent at first. Upon staring up at her aunt, Kiri could see the determination in her eyes that closely matched Kiri's father's. Kayla tilts her head down to try and stand more at Kiri's height before softly explaining, "I haven't given up. And you might find it pointless to keep an eye on you after what happened, but I don't, and I don't think Spider would either. Think about it, kiddo. Spider would want us to make sure you're alright before we ever went looking for him."

Kiri ducks her head and watches her toe make shapes in the sand beneath her feet, "I know... but that doesn't mean I have to like it. He deserves to be put first for once."

Silence lingers between the two of them before Kayla simply says, "You're right."

Kiri doesn't wanna look up to see whatever expression was on her aunt's face. Instead, Kiri takes her arm and drags her to the water, "Come."

"'Where we going?"

"You said you wanted to learn how to use a txampaysye."

Kayla's nose scrunched up, testing the word on her tongue with bitterness, "How do you even spell that??"

Kiri manages to loosen up and laugh before they both held their breath and sank down into the water, sinking until they joined the rest of the Sully children. They introduce Kayla to txampaysye -gill mantle- and instruct her on how to use it in order to breathe underwater. Kayla wasn't far off. The gill mantles really did look like fairy wings, but other than maybe a few comments or stories, none of the Na'vi children would know what exactly a fairy was. The children and their aunt spend the evening doing as Neytiri suggested, gathering underwater plants and barnacles alongside other Metkayina, most of whom all wore the txampaysye. By the time the communal dinner rolled around, the Sully family was exhausted, but content all the same.

~~~~~~~~~

A peaceful morning where the Sullys invite Kayla over for breakfast goes uneventful until they're rolling up their nivi after a good night's rest. Their peace is interrupted by a horn, followed by whoops and hollers of celebration coming from outside. Confused and on edge, Jake and the kids emerge from the marui, looking around as the Metkayina jump around and dive into the water, making the newcomers curious as to what was going on.

Their answer came in the form of Tsireya, astride an ilu as she waved down her people from the water below their homes, "The tulkun have returned! Everybody! Our Brothers and Sisters have returned!"

Kayla looked up toward the atoll wall protecting the village from less docile nature. Emerging from the tunnels and pathways underneath the wall were rolling waves indicating something large below the water. Spurts of seaspray spring out like geysers from beneath the ocean's surface. It was a large pod of whale-like creatures, massive and slow. Their descent onto the village was graceful and one that brought much joy to the Metkayina as they couldn't get in the water fast enough.

The Sully kids couldn't wait either, jumping from the walkway around their home and into the water below. They scatter, exploring the new creatures one way or another. Tsireya had grabbed Lo'ak when she spotted him and pulled him onto her ilu, swimming away to introduce him to her Spirit Sister. Jake summoned his tsurak and both he and Neytiri take off to observe the sacred animals themselves. Rotxo had come around and pulled Kiri and Tuk away too, leaving Neteyam and Kayla to wander. Ao'nung was not far behind his friend, however, and invited Neteyam to come along with him to find his own Spirit Brother. Earning a small reassurance from his aunt, Neteyam doesn't hesitate to jump in and both teenagers each grab an ilu and take off, making a game of chase with Ao'nung in the lead.

Neteyam kept close to Ao'nung the entire time. The chief's son leads Neteyam through the chaos expertly, the two of them swimming quickly around a particular tulkun. Kiri, Tuk, and Rotxo were hanging onto the bull's fin and gliding peacefully through the water, the tulkun likely the reef boy's Spirit Brother. Neteyam was only able to catch a glimpse of this as they swim by, keeping close to Ao'nung's tail and playfully chasing him.

Jake had been leisurely swimming his skimwing through the maze of tulkun and Metkayina before glancing off to the side and perking up. Reaching back and tapping Neytiri's thigh to grab her attention, he waits until her eyes are on him before pointing out the sight he stumbled across. Following her husband's gaze and finger, Neytiri spots a mother tulkun and her calf, the smaller whale-like creature keeping close, mostly under its mother's fin or belly. Neytiri smiled with delight, her heart melting at the picture.

Kayla had been floating above the surface, watching the vast sight of tulkun from up top the back of an ilu she had successfully summoned. She didn't venture very far until the olo'eyktan sought her out. She noticed his tsurak first, flying above her head before gracefully sinking into the water, folding in its webbed fins. Tonowari brings it back around and swims up to Kayla's side, a determined smile on his lips, "We must put all that you learned to the test. Come meet my Spirit Brother and see how well you can understand and communicate with him."

She nods and dutifully follows him into the water after taking a deep breath. They submerge and take off, weaving through and around the large bodies of tulkun, dodging other ilu and Na'vi while Tonowari keeps his pace slow for Kayla's ilu to catch up. Underwater, Kayla can get a better look at the tulkun, and to her amazement, she realized that most of them were tattooed like their respective Na'vi. Eventually, they come across a large bull and Tonowari slows to a complete stop, disengaging from his tsurak and openly swimming the rest of the way to the heavily tattooed tulkun male. Kayla disengages from her ilu and watches it swim away before swimming in the same direction as the olo'eyktan, keeping a small bit of distance while he approaches the tulkun, greeting it like an old friend with a wide smile before gesturing Kayla to come closer.

When Kayla swims close enough to float near the large eye of the creature, Tonowari motions to the bull and makes rapid hand movements, "This Makayla te Suli tsmuke te Toruk Makto. She is of the Forest People and has come to learn our ways."

"Greetings, Makayla te Suli." The tulkun sings, and Kayla is delighted that she can understand him.

She quickly signs back, just as she had practiced, "I See you, great and mighty tulkun."

"Have you learned much since your arrival?"

"Yes, many things. I have excellent teachers in the olo'eyktan and the tsahik."

"Indeed. You are in good hands with my Brother and his mate. Ro'a speaks highly of her."

Curious, Kayla turns to the olo'eyktan in question, hands slowed by the water as she asks through the Metkayina sign language, "Is Ro'a Ronal's Spirit Sister?"

Tonowari nods while further explaining with his hands, "Yes, and I believe Ro'a has just given birth to her first calf."

"Indeed." The tulkun calls softly, the beautiful sound muffled in Kayla's ears like a song trying to pierce through cotton, "We are very proud and happy for our sister. What of Ronal's child?"

Tonowari beams, "Growing fast. Halfway there."

Kayla faintly smiles as her lungs begin to faintly burn, then quickly makes the appropriate hand motions to signal, "Forgive me. I need air."

She tilts her head upward and kicks her arms and legs to plunge up to the surface. Kayla immediately gasps for air the moment her head broke through the ocean waves, taking deep and calm breaths while looking around at all the joyous reunions going on around her. Laughter and cheers are still clinging to the approaching afternoon air, not a single Metkayina worried about the day's chores as they are too busy reacquainting themselves with their Spirit Brothers and Sisters. Kayla fondly watched these interactions, her heart warm and yet... sad as she watched the Na'vi swim around her without a care in the world. It's not as though she expected anyone to notice her, but it was a brief realization that today she was invisible and an outcast compared to these beautiful tulkun creatures. It was just another reminder that she didn't belong here and she had no Spirit Sister of her own, feeling out of place among an entire lagoon full of tulkun, Na'vi, tsurak, ilu, and other aquatic creatures.  

Once she caught her breath, Kayla inhaled deeply and stuck her face back into the water to check out the activity going on beneath her treading feet. Looking around, she managed to catch a glimpse of a familiar Na'vi, a woman, adamantly communicating with her hands toward another tulkun, a female and her calf. Kayla recognized Ronal's ornaments that expressed her importance among the other Metkayina, along with her rounded belly. Without those traits, however, Kayla wouldn't have recognized her because the tsahik was smiling, broadly, unbothered by anything going on around her as she spoke to what had to be her Spirit Sister, Ro'a.

In all the weeks Kayla had been living here, she had never seen Ronal smile, let alone smile like that.

A/N: Please remember that I can't reply to any comments below every chapter because I'm using a secondary account. So if you have questions about the series you would like answers to, please put it in the ask box, thank you!

If you have a request, check the rules first! Much love!

Buy me ko-fi <3

Just a brief notice that updates are gonna be spotty from here on out as summer is coming to a close and I'll be working two jobs next month (Sept). Keep the love and support coming and I hope to update for y'all soon!

[allwaswell16]

Fics by allwaswell16 📖 2023

🍄 Louis/Harry 🍄

Bitter Ends Turn Sweet (series) [E, 34k, kid fic, fic post]

Part One: Bitter Ends Turn Sweet [E, 30k, fic post] It had been four years since Harry first heard the song his ex wrote about him and far longer since they broke up. He forgave Louis long ago, and now his life was focused on his career, his family, and especially his son, Max. But Louis was back in Chicago, after all this time, and he’s not an easy man to ignore.Or a songfic inspired by the song Chicago Part Two: In Time [M, 2k, fic post] Harry's uncertainty about their relationship began before he ever stepped foot on the plane to Amsterdam.A prequel/timestamp to the fic Bitter Ends Turn Sweet Part Three: Yours and Mine [T, 1k, fic post] Louis goes to the library with his favourite people, his boyfriend Harry and his son, Max.A Bitter Ends Turns Sweet timestamp

Heart Beat [E, 33k, kid fic, fic post]

Hideaway Haven is the place that Louis has always called home. It's also the place that Harry had tried to leave behind him. When Harry returns to start a music academy in his hometown, he finds himself face to face with his high school crush—and his charming daughter who wants to learn to play the drums.

Ace of Spades (series)

Part Three: Ace of Hearts [E, 10k, fic post] Louis Tomlinson, the alpha Duke of Yorkshire, had returned to England to stay now that he’d married and mated. But since his husband was also the omega he’d once held captive aboard his half-brother’s pirate ship, he held back from pushing Harry into parenthood.With the Ace of Spades now docked in London, Harry spent time with his friends from the crew and remained a bit oblivious to his alpha’s deepest desires. What he was aware of was his best friend’s hurt and his mother-in-law’s wish for more than friendship with her oldest friend.

On That Note [E, 6k, coworkers, fic post]

Louis’ office job on an omega only floor would be absolutely fine, if not for the alphas he and his friends have to deal with in the building. But although they’ve never met face to face, the friendly notes sent between him and Harry in Purchasing help him get through the day.

Do You See What I See [T, 2k, pets, fic post]

Harry may or may not be rescuing stray animals as an excuse to see the very hot local veterinarian.

Or an absurd pet fic inspired by She Is Beauty We Are World Class

All This Time [T, 1k, a/b/o, fic post]

Louis Tomlinson had been best friends with flower shop owner Gemma Styles for years. It wasn't until she suggested he date her alpha brother that he ever thought of Harry that way. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea...

Netflix Original [T, 1k, neighbors, fic post]

Harry's hot neighbor overhears that he doesn't have Netflix.

Walk of Shame [T, 1k, meet cute, fic post]

On a cold, rainy autumn morning Louis meets someone else doing the walk of shame.

A Deal [T, 898 words, Potter Direction, fic post]

Slytherin Harry Styles spends his free time drawing down by the lake. Unfortunately, he can't show anyone what he's drawing because they're all of Gryffindor Louis Tomlinson.

🍄 Rare Pairs 🍄

One [E, 4k, Louis/Tommy Shelby (Peaky Blinders), fic post]

When omega Louis Tomlinson becomes pregnant after an unexpected encounter, he decides his only option is to flee his pack. But Tommy Shelby, pack alpha of the Peaky Blinders, might not be willing to let him go so easily.

Daydream [T, 2k, Louis/Zayn, fic post]

Every Thursday, Louis nods hello to her fellow regulars at Horan’s Cafe, one of whom is the woman of her dreams.

Crush [T, 1k, Louis/Niall, fic post]

When Niall stops smiling around the office, his co-worker Louis sets out to lift his mood with the help of their office mates.