#dear god this was like 6k words

[bucketsofmonsters]

Without Expectation

You know how everyone is talking about how Astarion has a difficult relationship with hero characters bc he felt abandoned by them when he was suffering? What if, during his 200 years of imprisonment, he’d met one? Very much inspired by this post

cw: pre-game astarion, Cazador, prostitution and non-consensual sex alluded to but never shown, healing from trauma, Astarion being sexualized, Astarion sexualizing himself, objectification, blood drinking, he’s kind of sexually aggressive in this but it's just because he’s scared and he doesn’t know anything else, reader is from a group of monster hunters that I made up who have been harassing Cazador, they are separate from any in-game monster hunters who are less Astarion friendly

Astarion x gn reader

Word count: 6k

He was charming. Pretty words, perfect hair, a dashing smile, and hollow eyes. 

The second Cazador had said the word, he was all over you. 

You couldn’t turn down the offer. Not for the promise of pleasure, that was the last thing on your mind looking at him. 

But if you got him alone you could talk to him, outside of the watchful eye of his master. 

He had you pinned to the wall of your bedroom before you could even say a word. You had to shove him back and he stumbled, a frightened, hurt look crossing his face before the practiced charm slipped easily back. 

“Oh, you like to play rough, do you? That’s fine with me, I don’t mind being pushed around a little.”

“Stop,” you pleaded with him. “Please, can I just speak for a second?”

“Say whatever you’d like, darling.”

“Listen… Astarion, wasn’t it?”

He smirked at you. “It is, but you can call me whatever you'd like.”

“Astarion, you don’t have to do this.”

“Of course I don’t. I want to. Don’t you want me?” He moved to get into your space again but you stepped back and he didn’t follow. 

You did your best to push past his flirtation. “How often does he make you do things like this?”

“Like this? Not often. My lovers don’t typically live to see the morning. Although I suppose it doesn’t make much difference to me,” he said with a laugh, one that felt practiced and put on. 

“Oh.” You couldn’t imagine it, being forced to not only be with so many people but to send them off to their deaths night after night. 

Your eyes drifted down as your thoughts spiraled and he grabbed your chin, pulling your face up so your eyes met once more, directing all your attention back to him. “Is that what’s bothering you, darling? I promise Cazador has given me very clear instructions on how well you should be treated.”

“No, that’s not the problem.” You dropped your head into your hands as you tried to figure out what to do. “God, this is such a nightmare. Listen, I can sleep on the couch, you should take the bed,” you said, gesturing vaguely at the loveseat tucked in the corner of the room.

“Come now, that’s not necessary my dear,” he practically purred at you. 

You felt a little more nauseous with every pass he made at you. “You really don’t have to do that, I swear. Not in here at least. It would probably be prudent to pretend in front of Cazador but that’s an issue for tomorrow.”

“Even if you don’t want sex,” he said with a little roll of his eyes. “The couch is not necessary. I promise I won’t bite.”

It was a bad idea. You knew that much. But the bed looked so soft and comfortable and the couch wasn’t even long enough to fit all of you if you tried to lie down. 

You sat on the bed tentatively and sunk into the mattress. It was by far the most comfortable bed you’d ever been in and you ran your hand along the silky sheets. “Alright, but we’ll just be sleeping,” you said with a pointed look in his direction. 

In a heartbeat, you were pushed back onto the mattress and he was looking over you, his hands on either side of your head as he grinned down at you. “Are you certain, my dear? I could make you feel so good.”

“I’m sure you could,” you said with a smile, cupping his face in your hands. His eyes lit up at the contact and it was clear that he thought he’d done it, that he'd won you over. “But that won’t be necessary.”

You leaned up and pressed a kiss into his forehead before gently pushing him off of you back towards his side of the bed. 

He seemed wounded and frightened by the gesture, a far cry from the practiced seduction you’ve seen from him so far. “You don’t want me.”

“I assure you that is not the problem,” you said, careful to keep your voice gentle. 

He did not seem convinced, a tragic vulnerability starting to seep through his facade.

As he stared at you, a worried look plastered across his face, you grabbed some of the many pillows from the top of the bed, placing a few between the two of you. 

He scoffed at the sight. “I don’t know what those are meant to stop. Not exactly impenetrable security against a rabid vampire.”

“They’re not for you. I have a tendency to get… grabby, in my sleep.”

He huffed, folding his arms as he finally conceded ground and laid down next to you. “Good. Maybe you’ll be more interesting than when you are awake.”

You doubted he’d find you snuggling a pillow particularly interesting but you let him interpret your words however he pleased. 

“Perhaps. Now if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to sleep now.”

“It’s not all the same to me, thank you very much.”

“Alright,” you said with a yawn. “Goodnight.”

You woke up with your arms wrapped around a pillow from your little wall, holding it close to your chest as you eased your eyes open to see Astarion unabashedly staring at you. 

He spoke as soon as he caught wind you were awake. “You weren’t kidding about being grabby, you’re practically smothering the poor thing.”

Your face warmed slightly at his words, embarrassment fluttering in your chest. “It’s an old habit. What about you, couldn’t sleep?”

“Elves don’t sleep.”

You suddenly felt incredibly foolish. “Oh. Right. So you’ve just been sitting there all night then?”

“I tranced for a while. It was certainly a more boring night than I expected.”

You yawned as you sat up, setting the pillow you’d been holding behind you. “Terribly sorry to disappoint. Hopefully, there will be many more boring nights in your future.”

He pulled back, cocking his head to the side. “What?”

You realized you hadn’t told him of your little scheme yet. “I was thinking. This whole meeting with Cazador was more of a formality than anything. He’s killed too many of our people, we need to make this deal, at least until we can figure out how to sort him out for good. But he doesn’t know that and maybe, if you’re amiable to it, I could throw in a final term to the deal. Where he has to give me… well, you. Not that you should be his to give, but I figure if I can save someone from this place and I didn’t, what kind of a monster would I be?”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you want from me?”

You shrugged. “I’d say nothing if I thought you’d believe me. If you need to rationalize it, let’s just say it’s an ego boost. Now I get to feel like a good person and you get to leave this place. As long as I don’t mess it up too badly.”

Mistrust was written across his face and it seemed like the first completely honest emotion you’d been able to pull from him. 

“I don’t believe you.”

“That’s fine, we can fix that after I get you out of here.” You sighed. “Wish me luck. I’m an awful liar.”

He trailed after you as you left, seemingly incapable of letting you out of his sight. 

Maybe he was. Maybe he’d been ordered to do so. You had no way to tell. It made your heart hurt, the sight of him here, the idea of Cazador’s other spawn that you couldn’t save. At least not yet. 

He followed you like a loyal pup all the way to Cazador, who was lounging in a chair without a care in the world. 

He chuckled at the sight of Astarion behind you. “And how was my spawn? To your satisfaction?”

You swallowed down that bile that rose in you as you said, “He was a delight. I was wondering, in the name of our agreement, is there any way I could keep him? It’s just that I’ve grown quite fond of him so very quickly.”

Cazador laughed, a putrid, callous thing. “I’m sure. He can be quite… convincing. And this would make you amenable to my terms?”

You nodded. “All the monster hunters in Baldur's Gate will focus their attention in… other places. You and yours will be entirely safe from our wrath.”

“And if we’d like to push you in the direction of another creature?”

You gave him a tactful nod. “We could be convinced.”

“Good.” He laughed once more. “Typical monster hunter. You pretend to hate us and yet you want to keep a vampire pet.”

Astarion leaned into your side and you felt a little queasy at the performance as you snaked your arm around him. “Like I said, he was very convincing.”

He sighed. “You drive a hard bargain. As you wish, you shall have your terms. Just tell me if he doesn’t behave. I can get him sorted right out for you.”

It took everything you had not to lunge at him thinking about everything he’d put this poor man through. “Of course, but I’m sure I’ll be able to manage just fine on my own.”

You got out of there as fast as you could. Even if you hadn’t had Astarion with you, you didn’t want to spend any longer than absolutely necessary with the monster. 

You pulled him through the streets back to the house you were staying in, racing against the sun. You barely had enough time to get him there and pull him inside, but you had a feeling he’d prefer this mad dash over staying another day with his master.

Regardless, the whole time your eyes were darting around, looking for places you could hide him should you need to. 

You wondered what you’d even do if it had come to that. Just sit with him for the rest of the day, you supposed, unless he wanted to try a risky maneuver with a thick blanket. 

You tried to pull him inside but it was like an invisible wall had stopped him in his tracks. You gave him a questioning look and he grumbled, “You have to invite me.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, come in!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, he rushed in beside you and you set yourself to making sure all of the widows were fully shut, pulling the curtains tight. 

He watched you dart about, tugging at the thick fabric. His gaze was judgemental but at least the emotion seemed genuine. 

As soon as you were mostly certain he wouldn’t burn to death, you turned to him. “We won’t be leaving for a while so you can make yourself at home. If you need anything just let me know, okay?”

You didn’t see him for the whole day. You were busy and he made himself scarce. You couldn’t blame him. You imagined he’d long since made it a habit to avoid being seen by anyone. Anyone except his forced prey, you supposed. But still, he hid away from them, in his own way. 

“Astarion, can you come look at this?” you called out as the sun finally dipped fully below the horizon, hoping he was close enough that he could hear you. And hoping he would come even if he did. 

It took a few minutes but eventually he came sauntering down the stairs. 

“Yes, my dear?”

You grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the window, gesturing out at the carriage that was illuminated by torches alone, shrouded in the thick darkness of the night. “Do you think it’ll be alright? The last thing I want is for you to get hurt.”

He stared out at the carriage you’d spent hours painstakingly attempting to make impenetrable to light. You’d painted the windows black, hung blankets over top of them, shoved old linens in the cracks in the doors. 

He cautiously headed outside, staring at the carriage with furrowed brows. “Did you do this?”

“Yeah, I tested it during the day. It seemed pretty solid but obviously you couldn’t check then. I could bring a torch around the outside if you wanted to check for yourself.”

He looked at you like you were mad. “We could have just traveled at night.”

You shrugged. “It’s a two-day journey and I didn’t want to depend on inns and shelter along the road to protect you during the day. This seemed safer.”

He opened the door, sitting inside and looking around at the painstakingly covered windows and cracks, and you couldn’t tell if he seemed uncomfortable because he was worried about the sun or because of the sheer amount of effort you’d clearly put into it. 

“Do you want anything for the ride?” you asked, pushing forward. “Some books or something? I could go get them for you.” 

“Your company is all I could ask for.”

“Okay, but for real though. Never mind, I’ll just get you some books.” You doubted you’d be able to pull an honest answer from him for a very long time, if at all. 

After a frenzied book run, the two of you were ready to head off, locking yourselves inside the carriage until the sun set once more. 

The bumps of the carriage jostled the two of you as you rode. The flickering orange light of two lanterns, one for each of you, barely illuminated the darkened space and you couldn’t help but feel a little claustrophobic. 

He was sitting, staring at you, book untouched on his lap. 

You’d brought as many options as you could think of, romance novels, epics, history, a horticultural book that had pulled a snort and an incredulous look from him when he’d seen it. 

He didn’t seem much in the mood for reading and under his unblinking gaze, neither were you. Instead, you stared at the painted-over window, wishing there was anything else you had to look at in the dim light. 

“Admiring your paint job?” he asked with a chuckle as you continued to refuse to meet his unblinking gaze. 

“Something like that.” You decided to take the broken silence as an opportunity. Anything was better than being silently stared at and you weren’t sure you’d get a better chance to ask him. “Can I ask you something that’s potentially insensitive?”

He smirked at you with that practiced allure. “Ask away.”

“Were you one of his favorites? Cazador's, I mean.”

He scoffed. “In a way. He loved torturing me more than anyone else.”

You leaned forward. “So it might be easier to convince him to part with the others?”

His eyes narrowed at you and you watched as he tried once again to figure out what your angle was. “You’ve got a real bleeding heart, don’t you?”

“We’ve been unable to hurt him for so long, failed at it for years and years. Every day you were there was because we weren’t good enough at what we did. I can’t help it, I feel a little responsible for you. For all of you.”

“Oh please,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Like I’m not one of the monsters you hunt.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Why would you be? Who have you hurt?”

He laughed a cold, cruel laugh. “Darling, you have no idea how many people I’ve hurt.”

“You haven’t though. Cazador hurt people through you, sure. But you didn’t hurt anyone, not really. You’re a victim just as much as they were. At least we managed to save some of them.”

He squirmed in his seat. “I think they might disagree.”

You shrugged, something delicate in his eyes telling you not to push. “Maybe.”

The rest of the ride was completed in silence, not only fueled by your discomfort but now also Astarion’s irritation with you. 

Your driver gave a knock on the door as the sun disappeared, just as you’d instructed him to, and you opened it to find a quaint little inn surrounded by woods in front of you. 

He left to take care of the horses and you led Astarion inside, securing two rooms for the three of you. In a perfect world you would’ve gotten Astarion his own room, but his vampirism wasn’t exactly subtle and you couldn’t help but worry that some overzealous patron of this establishment might take it upon themself to rid the inn of the supposed monster. 

You led him up to the room you’d be sharing and as you entered, he stood in the doorway and took in the sight. 

You were quick to give him a quiet, “Come in,” but he brushed you off.

“That’s for houses, not individual rooms. I just…there’s two beds.”

You nodded. “Yup. For two people.”

He eyed you suspiciously, as if the two beds might be part of some devious scheme. After a few moments, he seemed to decide it was just a normal room and took the bed nearest the door. 

He seemed paler than he’d been the night before and a horrible thought struck you. “Oh my god, you need to eat! I haven’t been feeding you.”

He chuckled. “Good luck with that, there aren’t many disposable animals out here. At least, not ones you could catch. Unless you want to let me at the horses, but that would leave us in quite the predicament.”

“I mean, you could drink from me. Not everything, obviously, but I could spare some.”

You held out your hand to him, presenting your wrist and looking at him expectantly.

“I’m not allowed to drink human blood,” he spat back at you, the bile of hundreds of years of resentment lacing his words. “Cazador doesn’t allow it.”

“You’re not his anymore. He gave control over to me and I say you can do whatever you’d like and that you don’t take orders from anyone anymore. The offer stands.” You went to withdraw your hand until his hunger bested his hesitation but he grabbed your wrist, stopping you from pulling away. 

“Well,” he said with a sly smile. “As long as you’re offering, I would be a fool to turn you down.”

It was so strange how quickly it happened, how easily he could slip right back into that faux confidence. 

He leaned towards you and you backed away at the hungry look in his eyes, one you were more than familiar with. 

“If you really want to I’m sure there’s ways we could make this a more rewarding experience for you,” he said and in a heartbeat he maneuvered himself over you, his hands interlaced with yours and holding you to the mattress. 

You pulled yourself back in an instant, leaning against the headboard as you presented your wrist to him once more. 

You didn’t fault him for it. After years of surviving with it, of course he would keep trying to draw you in with his sexuality. The instinct couldn’t be snuffed out overnight.

You’d bat away his attempts as many times you needed to, try and make him understand. You weren’t sure if it would ever work, not fully, but you’d keep trying. 

“It’s easier this way,” you said in explanation, giving him something to latch onto that didn’t feel like rejection. 

He rolled his eyes. “Easier, I’m sure. Typical, I got a master who’s allergic to fun.”

“I’m not your master. You can do as you please, could leave now if you wanted.”

“And go where?” he snapped. “You can pretend if you must but I know what I am. I know where I stand. I am a lot of things, but I am no fool.”

“I know.”

He studied you for a moment, eyes daring across your face before he pulled your wrist towards him, digging his teeth into your flesh. 

The sharp pain lasted for a heartbeat before it faded away to a dull ache. He lapped at the open wound, his put-on demeanor disappearing as he got lost in it. 

He cradled your hand like it was a lifeline. In a way, you supposed it was. 

You could feel yourself getting lightheaded as he fed but you refused to stop him. You would not command it of him, would rather die than force him into it. You let out a quiet whine, your form slumping back into the bed. 

He drew away immediately and your blood began pouring onto the white sheets of the bed. 

A moment of panic reflected in his red eyes before he grabbed the corner of the sheets, wrapping them around your wound. 

“There,” he said, his voice quieter than his normal bravado. “Should keep you from bleeding out.”

Your eyes were locked on his collarbone, a dark bruise becoming visible as your blood fled through his previously starved body. The longer you looked, the more of them you could see, peeking out from under his clothes. 

“Oh, you poor thing,” you said in hushed tones, hands moving to reach for him before stopping in their tracks, unsure if your touch would be wanted. 

He was otherwise preoccupied, his eyes alight with something entirely new. He looked stronger, livelier. There was a warmth to his cheeks you’d never seen before. 

You resisted the urge to touch him, to see if he’d become warmer as your blood had begun to run through him, bringing a new light to his eyes. 

“You should get some rest,” he said, looking down at you lying exhausted and drained on the bed. “You certainly need it.”

You barely had time to laugh at his comment before you’d drifted off. 

The ride back was as quiet as it had been the day before, if a little less uncomfortable. Astarion still stared for much of it but he at least pretended to read his book. The healthy flush to his cheeks seemed to come with a bit of newfound comfort and ease around you that made you puff up with pride, even if you still felt a little woozy from the night before. 

“Here we are!” you said as a knock sounded on the door, opening it and leading him inside your home. It was an old manor of your family's, not particularly big, right on the edge of nowhere, and perhaps falling apart just a little but more than suitable for your purposes. “It’s a little bit of a mess but I kind of like it that way. Come on, I’ll show you your room.”

You decided to put him in a room that was just a few doors down from your own, pointing out just where he could go to find you if he needed anything. 

You laid down to sleep once you got him situated, more exhausted than you typically were at this time of night. Despite how tired you were, presumably from the blood loss, you had to fight the urge to go and check on Astarion just one more time. 

You hadn’t known him for long but you’d already developed an intensely protective instinct towards the man. 

You did your best to put him out of your mind when a knock sounded at the door. 

“Come in,” you called out. You made no attempt to suppress your smile when he peeked in the doorway. 

“I think I’ve grown accustomed to your company,” he said sheepishly, and for once it didn’t seem like he was trying to seduce you. He seemed worn down, looking just as tired as you felt, a defeated air present on his face. 

You were too tired for subtlety, opening your arm to him and muttering a sleepy, “Just come here.”

He seemed grateful to not have to explain himself. To not have to ask. 

He sat on the bed, looking down at you where you lay. 

“No pillow this time?” he asked in that snide voice he used so often. 

“I can if you want. Just thought you might appreciate the closeness.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Fine, I’ll be your little pillow to hug. Fair warning though, I run cold.”

You tried and failed to suppress a yawn as he got into bed beside you and you wrapped your arms softly around him. “I don’t mind. G’night.”

“Goodnight, my dear.”

Just like that, it became a bit of unspoken habit between the two of you. You felt it might honestly kill him to comment on it, to ask you for affection. But with no words, no pleasantries, there he was every night, beside you. 

One night, about a week into his residence in your home, he seemed more restless than normal, fiddling endlessly with your hand, incapable of sitting still. You turned to him with a pointed look. “Come on, out with it, it’s not good to go to bed with things left unsaid.”

He scoffed. “Why not?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, what if I die in my sleep or something.”

“If you die in your sleep, I think I might have bigger problems than things I didn’t say to you. Namely, some monster hunters who might take issue with the vampire you died next to.”

You shook your head. “No, I already told them about you, they wouldn’t hurt you.”

That seemed to take him by surprise, pulling back a bit at your words. “You did?”

“Of course I did. Now come on, out with it, what’s going on it that head of yours?”

He sighed dramatically and flopped back on his pillow. “It’s really nothing.”

“Not if it's bothering you. I want to help.”

“Did you mean it?” he blurted out, like the words had to be forced out of him quickly or they wouldn’t come out at all. “When you said you wanted to save the rest of them too?”

“Of course I did. And I will. At least if I have anything to say about it,” you said quietly, your stomach turning at the thought of the other spawn you’d left behind.

He turned from you as if you’d slapped him. “Right. I’m going to sleep in my own room. I should’ve been in there anyway, this was silly. Goodnight, darling.”

You chased after him in a heartbeat, catching up at him before he’d even managed to open his door. “Wait, what did I do? Astarion?”

He was an unstoppable force, storming into his own room. 

“I don’t understand what I did,” you pleaded with him, desperate to fix it. You raked through your conversation, trying to dissect every word spoken, every facial expression. You found nothing. Shouldn’t he be happy you wanted to help them? It didn’t make sense to you. 

He sat on his bed, one he’d never slept in, arms crossed and brows furrowed. When he spoke, there was a faux casualty to it, like he was trying to pretend none of it mattered to him. “I’m just making room for the next stray you let into your bed.”

You sat next to him, careful to keep your distance as you moved your head down to try and catch his eye. “You know I’m not replacing you, right?”

He huffed in response, turning away from you again. 

You made sure to keep your tone gentle and soft. “You know I wouldn’t let just any vampire spawn sleep next to me, right? It’s because I care about you, it’s not just because you’re there. No one is replacing you and I promise there is enough of me to help people while also still being there for you. I will save as many of them as I can until I can rid this world of Cazador but you’re not just Cazador’s victim, you’re my friend.”

He turned to you suddenly. “Stop saying that. Stop saying you’re going to hunt down Cazador. If he catches wind of any of this you’re dead. At least, if you’re lucky you’ll be dead. And then where will I be?”

“Hey, I’ve been doing this a long time. I know what I’m doing, we all know what we’re doing. He’s not going to get me.”

“That’s why you made that deal, is it? Did all the other hunters he slaughtered know what they were doing too? You aren’t a threat to him, you are a nuisance. You need to stop,” he snarled. 

You couldn’t stop. You both knew that, could see it as clear as day. 

Instead, you just said a quiet, “Come on, come to bed,” and walked out of the room. 

He trailed behind you, the unendable argument weighing heavy on the both of you, no more words spoken as he slipped under the sheets. You gave his hand a squeeze, trying your best to reassure him despite knowing it would never work. Not as long as he was still out there. 

And then, as he leaned into your space, head brushing against your arm, something he’d been getting slowly more comfortable doing, something occurred to you that should have many days ago, back when he’d first arrived here. It was strange that he was here, now. Not just because of his uncomfortability with any sort of nonsexual closeness, but because of when it was. 

Not only did elves not sleep the same way nor as long as humans did, but vampires slept during the day typically, to enjoy the night as best they could. 

“I’m going to start sleeping during the day,” you said decisively. “That way we can keep doing this,” you said as you gestured around vaguely, “and you can go out, can do things with your waking hours. I’m sorry it didn’t occur to me sooner.”

His eyes widened. “You’d really let me leave?”

His surprise felt like a shard of ice through your chest. “Of course I would. You can do whatever you want. I’ll even do my best to help if you’ll ask me for it.” Another horrible thought struck you. “Wait, you didn’t think you could leave and you’ve been with me most nights. What have you been eating?”

“Whatever I could find. I make for wonderful pest control.”

Your heart sank. You should’ve considered this sooner, never put him through any of this. 

“Here, drink from me,” you said, sticking out your hand. “I can get some bigger animals for you, keep them here so you don’t have to hunt for them if you’d prefer, but for now I will have to do.”

He hesitated, although his gaze was less suspicious than the last time you’d done this. Instead, he looked nervous. “You’ve… you’ve already done so much for me. I shouldn’t.”

“Astarion, you’re starving,” you said quietly, trying to reason with him. 

“I’d rather not push it. Eventually, even your charity will run out.”

You shook your head. “It will not. It’s fine if you don’t believe me, I know it’ll take time, but I will keep being here for you until it sinks in. Promise.”

He laughed quietly, seeming more for himself than for you, something that had been happening more and more lately. “You underestimate my distrust, I think I could outlast you.”

You smiled back. “Challenge accepted. But until then, you need to eat.”

You held out your wrist for him, the marks from the last time just beginning to fade. He took it, gingerly, bringing it slowly to his mouth and watching your face for any apprehension. 

You showed none, instead giving him a soft smile. “Go on. I don’t bite.”

That got a real laugh out of him. “That’s not funny.”

He pressed a soft kiss into your skin before sinking his fangs in, that sharp pain coming with a flutter of warmth inside your chest. 

He was slower this time, more intentional as he drank. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he wasn’t as hungry or if it was because it felt less like his meal might be ripped away from him unceremoniously. 

He didn’t get as lost in it this time, eyes flicking up to meet yours, checking in on you. 

You didn’t even get the chance to try and tell him you were feeling woozy before he drew back, pulling a handkerchief you hadn’t even noticed off the side table to wrap around your wrist. 

“Wouldn’t want to get our sheets all bloody,” he said as he knotted it tight around your wound. 

Your hands moved slowly as soon as he released them, reaching up towards his face and giving him plenty of time to back away. 

For a moment, when he first saw you reaching for him, he pulled back and you were ready to retreat and shower him in endless apologies when, as suddenly as he’d moved away, he leaned into your touch. 

Gentle hands cradled his face, ones he’d flinched away from but a moment before. He leaned into them openly now, unabashedly, making a home between your palms. 

He was warmer like this, with your blood rushing through him. 

You pulled him closer as his head tucked right under yours, your fingers carding gently through his hair. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, barely loud enough to reach his ears, and you had no idea if he believed you. 

You doubted it, doubted that you’d been able to break through all those years of his living hell so quickly. His walls had been carefully constructed for a reason, and you understood why he was so hesitant to break them down. You couldn’t blame him, would never blame him. 

It didn’t really matter. You’d keep trying either way.

[utahimeow]

to bind a god — satoru gojo

summary — satoru gojo lets you tie him up.

pairing — satoru gojo x f!reader

warnings — nsfw content. minors dni. bondage, femdom, sub!gojo, established relationship (reader and gojo are married), degradation, praise, edging, choking, slight dacryphilia, handjob, oral (f receiving), implied subspace, creampie

word count — 6k

author’s note — this was not supposed to be six thousand words long

To most, the idea of restraining Satoru Gojo seems inconceivable.

A being so powerful that he’s as close to omnipotent as a human can get. One who can bend reality to his will. Even to touch him, to come close enough to make contact with him– an impossible task.

So how does one restrain Satoru Gojo?

You ask him nicely.

Play with his powder-white hair as he lays in your lap, scratch at his scalp until powder white eyelashes flutter shut and he’s humming, content. Get him right where you want him to be. And then, dangle his undying love for you over his head. It works every time.

“Baby?” you muse.

“Hmm?”

“You know how you love me so much? In sickness and in health? Till death do us part?” It’s not entirely uncommon for you to remind him of the very words you had repeated to one another the day you became forever bound to one another. And before you had made your vows to one another, it was some other twisted way of getting exactly what you wanted. In truth, however, batting your eyelashes at Satoru was usually enough. 

Your husband’s eyes flicker open and he gazes up at you, one thin white eyebrow raised pointedly. He sighs then, even rolling his eyes a little, ever so dramatic. “Yes, my dear wife, you know I'd do anything for you.”

“So then, you’ll let me tie you up and edge you, right?”

He barks out one of his booming, obnoxious laughs. As if you’ve just said the most impossible, unfathomable, unimaginable thing. 

He sits up, still laughing, searching your face for a sign that you’re joking. He doesn’t find it. 

“I’m being serious, Satoru.” 

His cerulean irises, the very ones that hold an ancient power so immense that it seems like a myth, widen. He audibly gulps and his Adam’s apple bobs. Yet amidst his off-put reaction, something else lingers. Something that tells you he just needs a little extra push.

“Come on, I mean… think of all the things I let you do with me, baby,” you reason. Not that Satoru’s particularly into anything obscure. Rather, the intensity of the way he takes you usually leaves you recovering for days– because you love when he does. Naturally, he’ll use toys, or a blindfold, or handcuffs, but never anything as ‘serious’ as bondage. And sure, he assumes the dominant role, but that’s only because you enjoy having him in charge of your pleasure. It’s never any kind of formal dominance or submission, either. No titles, no punishments– outside of being playful, that is. 

The final blow is, in fact, when you bat your eyelashes and pout at him. 

Of course, he agrees. Because you’re you, and he’s him, a man not immune to a little sweet talk from his wife.

And of course, he does point out the elephant in the room – he’s the strongest human being in existence. What’s to stop him from slipping out of the ropes? He could do so without so much as blinking an eye.

“Just pretend, dummy! No teleporting, no breaking or dissolving the ropes into thin air, no nothing,” you tell him. Without a doubt, you assure him that these come with the exception that if Satoru needs to escape, by all means he may escape – an alternative to a safeword. 

Thus, two weeks later, Satoru kneels in the centre of your shared California king bed. He’s bare as the day he was born, his body sculpted like a divine statue, the manifestation of years of sorcery displayed in the way each muscle has been carved to perfection.

A tiny smirk sits on his face as he observes your concentrated state. Your lip is trapped between your teeth while you weave strands of rope together into neat patterns over Satoru’s chest, torso, arms, thighs. His arms are pulled behind his back, bound together by delicate knots. His steady breathing orchestrates your movements, and when you catch his gaze you pause just to admire him for a moment. Your heart swells with warmth, with debilitating affection for him.

Before long, you’ve weaved the rope into perfection. You take a step back from the bed, away from his kneeling form, to drink in your masterpiece. 

The rope slithers over his body, milk-white skin tainted by sanguine red. It’s not tight enough to squeeze, yet his biceps seem to swell between the gaps. The strand that runs down the middle of his chest and underneath leaves his pectorals bulging and you’re filled with the urge to bite and mark him. To claim him as yours. As if he’s not already wrapped up like a present for you. As if he’s not wearing a ring that pledges his soul to yours.

You’re rather impressed with yourself, too. It’s not bad at all for your first time, although technically you’ve spent weeks practising on anything limb-shaped whilst your husband was out of the house. None of it is particularly intricate, yet somehow you think that, had it been any of the more detailed patterns you’d seen on the web, he would not look so breathtaking. 

“Well? Is it everything you imagined?” Satoru quips, pulling you from your trance.

You narrow your eyes, questioning why you presumed that being tied up would ever stop him from running his mouth when even a ball gag would be useless on him. You nod though, humming in affirmation. It’s the last bit of satisfaction he’ll get from you. 

“You look pretty, Satoru,” you say, and it’s genuine, yet there’s a flutter in his belly at the teasing edge in your voice. “It doesn’t hurt anywhere?”

“No, ma’am,” he grins.

“Good. I’ll be back in a second,” you tell him before you prance off to your walk-in closet where two little pieces of lace await you. 

Satoru can’t be the only one all dressed up, after all. 

When you return, you’re in a bustier top, with lace and frills and tiny ribbons, and a matching thong– red, to match the ropes that decorate your husband’s body like ornaments. Satoru’s grinning like a pervert, devouring you with his eyes, his cock twitching and leaking as it hangs between his thighs. 

“Oh, look at you,” he says with a gaze filled with awe. Heat crawls to every corner of your body, but you swallow the urge to melt from his words and maintain your composure. “You got yourself a little outfit?”

You nod, mischief flashing across your face. “Since you were so kind and generous to let me tie you up, I thought I’d treat you a little.”

“Fuck, I’m lucky, heh?”

Tilting your head, you step closer to Satoru once more, his eyes like rhinestones glimmering with far too much arrogance for your liking. He has no idea what you have in mind. Or maybe he does, and he’s naive enough to think it won’t have any effect on him. 

You kneel on the bed in front of him, leaning in until you’re mere millimetres away from his face and your breath is warm on his lips. 

But you don’t kiss him. And when he sways forward, trying to catch your lips with his, you pull away.

“Aw, come on, baby. I can’t even get a kiss?” He’s pouting. Unfortunately for him, it’s a habit of his that you’ve grown resistant to.

“Say please,” you say.

His smile only grows, devilish and knowing. Then, a “please?”

Your hand lands at the base of his neck when you press into him, your lips meeting his softly, tongue dipping into his mouth just barely, just enough to keep him wanting more. The hand that sits on his clavicles begins inching down, sliding over the rope you so carefully placed. 

Feather-light, you brush a single fingertip against the head of Satoru’s dick which now stands upright between his legs. He shivers instantly, ever so sensitive to any touch, but especially sensitive because it’s you.

He did grow up with no choice than to be self-indulgent, after all. To cling to anything remotely good, even if he has to be a little selfish about it. So he clings to pleasure. He clings to your sighs and moans, to the way you wrap around him, to your hips and thighs, to every part of you. It’s made him far too spoiled. 

Your finger traces down his shaft, over the unforgiving veins, along his flushing skin. Your hand wraps around him then, fingertips hardly touching, and he groans into your mouth. 

“Eager?” you taunt. His eyes dart to your lips as you pull away from his face, watching the way they’ve become slick with honey-like spit. 

“You really can’t blame me,” he replies. 

You chuckle, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip and settling onto your knees in the spot next to him.

Satoru’s gaze drops down to the way your first wraps around his cock. Just as quickly, you lift his head back up, fingers under his chin until his eyes meet yours.

“Eyes on me,” you say. Something behind his irises bubbles, clawing at the surface. Still, he’s grinning.

When your hand starts to move, he sucks in a breath. Even if it’s achingly slow and barely enough to cause any stimulation, the relief that lies in being touched by you is enough. 

“You always take such good care of me,” you tell him, batting your eyelashes so sweetly at him. “Let me do the same for you, won’t you?”

He hums, long and drawn out, and your thumb glides over his tender tip. As you smooth over the slit, you shouldn’t be surprised when your fingers become damp with his arousal. 

“Already wet, huh?” 

“Well, you know what you do to me,” Satoru says, with a slight drawl in his words already, cheeks heating.

Maybe that’s part of it, but you also have no doubt that the ropes that frame his arms and torso are starting to coil around his mind too. Promising to take him to a space he’s never been to before.

So soon.

You drag your fist up and down, inch by inch, having no intention of speeding up. Not for a while anyway. He’s much too used to getting anything he wants from you.

He’ll try to pretend he’s patient. That’s fine. You’ll work him until he’s no longer pretending.

You ghost your lips against his jaw, along the column of his neck, nipping at his marble-white skin until there’s a mark or two left behind. Your teeth graze at his earlobe and he shivers. Something in your brain clicks when he does– the thought of him writhing beneath you makes you dizzy. 

You’ll get him there, you assure yourself. The slower the better.

Ever so slightly though, you pick up your pace, pumping him a little quicker now. 

“How’s that feel, Satoru?” you ask, a mix between taunting and the genuine desire to hear his affirmation.

“Feels real good,” he breathes, still grasping onto steadiness, refusing to let his tone waver.

The next time your hand slides up his cock, you squeeze a little harder, like a reward for his surprising lack of sarcasm. His breath hitches slightly when you do, leaving you grinning.

Every pearl of precum that drools from the slit of Satoru’s cock gets smeared along his length by your palm. It doesn’t take long until he’s covered in a layer of slick, aiding the way your hand glides up and down at a speed that’s finally enough to light a fire deep in his abdomen. 

His jaw clenches and he gulps, yet he remains practically silent– much to your disapproval.

“Wanna hear you, baby. Go on,” you coo, catching his gaze as you tighten your fist around him for a split second. It’s not like him to keep his noises to himself when he feels good, anyway.

His mouth drops, and a breathy little whine falls from his lips, and it becomes clear why he needed your encouragement. The noise makes your own clit throb, painfully unstimulated.

“There you are, such a good boy,” you say, stroking your hand faster. 

From then on, Satoru doesn’t resist letting out his whiny noises, mixed with his panting. It’s a complete contrast to his usual grunts, growls, and groans that are always so low, coming from deep in his chest as he takes you exactly how he likes, how he wants, how he needs. Now he’s all breath and high-pitched, sweat building on his temple, helpless as he sits wrapped up in the palm of your hand.

His cock is near-purple and painfully hard as you jerk him off, twisting your hand at his tip with a slick noise. His hips are starting to buck, the hard ridges of his abdomen starting to ripple. The ropes stretch, like they’re breathing, and then they come to life.

“Tell me when you’re close, Satoru,” you say, stern compared to how sweet you’ve been up until now. When you look at his face, his eyes are half-lidded and clouded over, his eyebrows pulled together. Your hand slows to a near halt and he whines pitifully. “Look at me.”

It takes him a second, but he blinks and then his glazed irises meet yours. 

“You’ll tell me when you’re close, won’t you?”

“Y-yes,” he moans, hips rutting slightly into your fist, begging for friction once more. “Please.”

You smile, satisfied. He’s been so obedient thus far, you have no reason to not resume the cruel jerking of your hand– with even more haste this time.

This time, you pump your hand with determination, lip caught between your teeth as you watch him eagerly, soaking up his reactions. As Satoru starts to near his edge his head falls back, his name on your lips as his veins start to burn with a familiar sensation.

“Close,” he breathes. “I’m close.”

And everything he’s built up comes tumbling down the second you take your hand off of him. 

“No, please,” he cries, voice cracking, him squirming in his restraints. It’s pathetic. It’s adorable. “You can’t do this to me, baby.”

You giggle, watching his eyes brim with tears. “I just did.”

“I’d never do this to you,” he says, more desperate than you’ve ever heard him. 

“Because you can’t control yourself, baby. Maybe now you’ll learn,” you tell him, smiling so sweetly. Your fingertip brushes against his raging, red cock and he flinches, near-shrieking. “Deal?” 

“Fine- please, just touch me again, fuck,” he begs, his voice sending bolts of pleasure to your core and you’re suddenly aware of the slick pooling in your own panties. 

Your hand wraps around his dick again and falls back into a steady rhythm, dragging up and down the hard length in a way that has Satoru whining again instantly. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whimpers over and over.

Within mere minutes, he’s throbbing into your hand once more, hardly muttering the word “close” before you take your hand off him.

“Ple-ease,” he mewls. “Need to cum, please let me cum.”

You have Satoru Gojo under your thumb. There’s no doubt about it.

Your chest aches with sympathy for him, truly. You are doing this for purely selfish reasons, after all, to soothe a sadistic, power-hungry instinct inside you. He’s done nothing wrong. But God, the way your brain buzzes from being able to get him like this in no time at all.

“Just hold out a little longer for me, Satoru, yeah? I promise it’ll feel so good,” you tell him. Your original plan was to see how long you could keep working him up for, but your pussy is starting to become restless. Between your legs, a pulse begs to be relieved. 

He replies with a moan and a twitch of his hips up into your hand that’s tugging at his cock again. You didn’t think it possible for it to be this red, this swollen and hard, veins bulging, his tip leaking so much precum that it almost looks like he already came. You drool a little, shivering at the thought of it stretching you out. 

The next time Satoru warns you of his impending orgasm so you can take your hand off of his cock is much sooner than the last few times. His entire body squirms, his arm muscles tensing against his restraints, and he sobs, tears slipping down his blood flushed cheeks.

From his swollen lips comes a stream of pleas and whimpers, ones that make you want to give him the world. You’re not sure how much of this you can take, let alone him. 

“It hurts,” he whispers. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard. 

“It hurts? You can safeword if you need,” you remind him, scanning his eyes for any signs of panic, but you’re only met with a blissed out haze. 

“No,” he says, shaking his head with determination. “I’m the strongest.”

Despite his dazed state, he manages to give a stupid, insufferable smirk like he just told the greatest punchline in history. 

“And here you are, crying like a little bitch because I won’t let you cum.”

You thrive off of the cry he lets out when you squeeze his cock, hard. In the blink of an eye he returns to whining pathetically and begging for release.

“Please… please,” he sniffles, tossing his head back in frustration. 

Frankly, you’re amazed that he hasn’t teleported out of the ropes. You doubt he can truly keep up the act– that the ropes are really binding, that he can’t simply tear them apart without so much as lifting a finger– so why hasn’t he?

For a moment you peer up at him, at the desperate sight of him wriggling and squirming, at the straining of muscles that are packed with immeasurable strength, and a chill runs down your spine. 

He thinks he’s truly restrained.

It shouldn’t surprise you that the second he’s put under a shred of control, he gives in instantly. The moment he can surrender his power he’s forced to carry, he does it without hesitation. There is no one else he would ever be so vulnerable for, but you. No one else whose hands he would feel so safe and secure in. No one else he would ever rip open his chest and show his heart to.

The least you can do is put him out of misery, for now.

“What do you want?” you ask, dripping with honey, dragging your hand up and down, up and down. Every movement gives a shlick, shlick, shlick from the way his cock weeps.

“Wanna cum,” he whines, arms twitching behind his back, desperate for some kind of leverage. “Please, I-I need to cum.”

And so you succumb to his pleas. Finally, you give him exactly what he wants, working your hand over him so fast that his whimpers turn into a stream of incoherent cries. He twitches and throbs in your palm, until at last, with a choked sob, he cums.

Streaks of warm, white seed splatter over Satoru’s chest and abdomen, his entire body wrought with tremors as pleasure sinks into every muscle and every fibre that he’s made up of.

“Good boy, there you go,” you murmur, keeping your slicked up hand stroking him at a gentle pace to get him through his climax. “Did so well.”

His entire body trembles as he breathes through the aftershocks of his orgasm. Your clean hand soothes over his hard thigh, over his shoulder, squeezing softly as you crane your head to slot your mouth against his. He barely has the energy to kiss you back, yet still his tongue moves against yours like a natural instinct, albeit weakly. 

You pull away, hovering a mere inch away from his face and cradling his cheek with your hand. “Doing okay?”

A dopey smile makes his features light up and any blooming anxiousness within you gets put to rest. “Yeah. It felt so good.”

In turn, your own lips curl into a smile of satisfaction. Then the heat pooling between your legs makes itself known once more, and your brain sparks with an idea. “Good. You think you can help me out now?”

Satoru nods, ever eager, drool forming at the corner of his lips. It’s adorable how whipped he is. 

Your fingers hook into the knot in the centre of Satoru’s chest, guiding him to turn so that he faces the headboard. You crawl up a little, splaying yourself out against the pillows, spreading your legs with your bottom lip between your teeth and the confidence of the entire world.

Satoru watches you with galaxies in his eyes as you push your little thong down your legs and toss it to the floor. His tongue nearly lolls out of his mouth when he finds the glimmering slick that dribbles out of your hole. When you bring two of your fingers down and drag your fingertips through your folds, you think he might start panting like a dog. 

You make a show of dipping your fingers into your soaked cunt, rolling your eyes back and arching a little as you moan, sweet and soft.

“Baby, please,” Satoru croaks out, wriggling in his ropes a little. 

“What, Satoru?” you tease, the sound of his begging sending heat straight to the growing bubble of pleasure in your gut.

“Can I have a taste?”

You grin devilishly as you pull your fingers from your dripping hole. Rising to your knees, your arm snakes behind his head, your hand settling on the back of his neck. The other hand, with your fingers covered in your nectar, hovers by his puffy lips. 

“Open for me,” you say, voice low and, without meaning it to be, sultry. 

Satoru’s mouth drops without a shred of hesitation. Your fingers sit on his tongue, your eyes locked with his as you say the word, “close.” 

He does, and then he’s drinking in the flavour, suckling on your fingers as though they’re an oasis and he’s been in the desert for his entire life. 

How you wish you could savour the image of his eyes as you push your fingers further into his mouth. White lashes flutter and tears well up, threatening to spill over his lash line, your grip on the back of his neck tightening as your fingers sink deeper into his mouth. When they reach the back of his throat, he mewls softly, swallowing around your digits.

“Such a good boy,” you say. Saliva webs cling to your fingertips as you withdraw them from Satoru’s lips slowly. “Now why don’t you eat my pussy like the good boy you are?”

“Please, please, let me,” he practically garbles, drooling and slobbering at just the prospect. 

You lay back, opening your legs so invitingly for him once again that he nearly lurches forward this time–that’s his place, after all, his home. Between your thighs. 

As you grasp the centre knot once more, Satoru allows himself to fall forward, diving straight into your cunt. 

He makes no effort to tease, or take his time. He’s hungry, and having his hands bound behind his back makes his face grow hot with pure frustration. He needs to feel your soft, velvety walls clench around his fingers. Craves it, in fact. 

Then his tongue runs up and down your folds, lapping at the sweetness that spills from you, and his mind floods with the single desire to make you cum with his mouth. 

Both of your hands fly to his head, weaving into the roots of his snow-white hair as moans start to fall from your lips. Your thighs tighten around his head when he latches onto your clit, swollen from neglect and aching to be touched. 

It only takes a few seconds before your belly starts to fill with a pulsing warmth that has you keening for more. As Satoru slurps at your cunt, your hips rut against his face in tandem. You’re selfish, shamelessly so, allowing yourself to indulge as Satoru always does with you. Something gleams in his eyes when you catch them with yours– bliss, thrill. His head is swimming, pure liquid, as the thought of you using him purely for your own selfish pleasure sinks in and makes his dick grow hard all over again. 

Over the lewd, wet noises of Satoru’s tongue flicking and suckling at your clit, your sweet, airy moans harmonise with his own grunted ones, muffled slightly by your pussy, but they’re still so loud. His voice vibrates against your core, and it sends pangs of bliss shooting straight to your gut. 

The sight of his huge, hulking body, bound and bent over, is breathtaking. Thick thighs keep his body from collapsing to the bed. If it were you, your abdomen would have long given out. Yet he stays upright, his head between your legs, his mouth never once faltering in the way it ravages your pussy. 

“Satoru- fuck,” you whimper, pressing your hips up into his mouth, your greed fuelled by the way he moans in reply and licks at you without any mercy. 

Spit and arousal pools on the sheets beneath your ass. Satoru comes up for air for half of a second, his cheeks and chin shining with your saccharine essence. The pure mess–the carnage of it all makes your head spin. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip, and in the blink of an eye he’s flattening his tongue against your clit once more. 

Your head sinks further into the pillow beneath you as you claw at his scalp and press his face closer into you. He’s ravaging you now, drunk on the sight of you being torn away from sanity as you near your climax.

Then, with nothing but your whimpered warning, that pulsing warmth in your belly erupts, washing over your entire body in a violent wave. Your muscles tighten, your mind numb from the overwhelming bliss, and Satoru wishes he could devour you whole. 

He waits until you tap at his shoulder to sit back on his shins with a smirk tugging at his lips and slick dripping down his jaw. Your legs tremble as you rise to your knees and shuffle closer to him, heartbeat still thudding in your ears as you crane your neck up to his face. Your lips are so messy against his, yet your kiss is so tender and full of affection when you wrap your arms around his neck. 

Between your legs, Satoru’s erection grazes against your thighs. You giggle into his mouth, and there’s a smack when you pull your lips from his. 

“So needy, aren’t you, Satoru? You like eating pussy that much?” you tease, reaching between him and you to stroke at his length. He gasps when your hand wraps around him, twitching into your palm.

“You know I do, baby, love your pussy so much,” he says, breathy and rasped. His jaw strains when you scratch at his undercut and bite your lip, your eyes no doubt glinting with mischief. 

“Then get on your back and I’ll let you fuck it,” you tell him. 

He throws himself to the mattress comically fast, inching up the bed, laying there, all wrapped up and patient for you. 

You giggle as you throw one of your legs over his waist and straddle him, bringing your hands down to his chest. Slowly, your palms run over each ridge and knot once more. Satoru revels in the brush of your flesh over his, in between rows of rope where his caged skin blushes. It glitters, too, with a sheen of sweat that matches yours. 

“You look beautiful like this,” you tell him, reaching up to stroke your thumb over his warm cheek, looking straight into the oceans of his irises as you say the words. 

His features turn soft, flashing with so much affection that it makes your heart soar. 

Taking his cock in your hand, you love the way he shivers as you drag the head through your dripping wet folds. Then, unable to hold out even a second longer, you line him up with your entrance and let him plunge inside of you. Both of you hiss in tandem, you sinking down on him, taking every last inch all at once. 

Satoru is already whimpering as you seat yourself on him, your hips flush to his. Your eyes roll back into your head, the delicious stretch of his cock making your brain turn fuzzy. 

The first bounce of your hips has him nearly crying. As though he’s been punched in the gut, Satoru gasps at the way you squeeze around his achingly hard, overstimulated cock. He feels every crevice of your walls, how the soft warmth sucks him in so sweetly that the ceiling above him starts spinning even though barely a minute has passed.

“Satoru,” you giggle, not caring that you fail to hide the breathlessness in your own voice from the sensation of being speared on his fat cock. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were a virgin.”

His dick twitches and his eyes grow round, his mouth dropping as you start to move in a steady rhythm. “I-it’s too good, I- fuck.”

“It’s too good?” you tease, dropping down on him a little harder now. Your hands wander along the patterns of rope absentmindedly, toying with him. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna cum already.”

“‘m not, I promise,” he whimpers, sucking in a trembled breath, his gaze fixing on your face. 

“Good boy,” you say. Then, you abandon all mercy. 

Fucking yourself back onto him, you let a chorus of shameless moans spill from your lips, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock rub against your walls. Satoru is even noisier, struggling to contain his high-pitched whines and whimpered moans as he struggles against his restraints. 

Your fingers curl around a knot on Satoru’s abdomen for balance. The way you move your hips is relentless, the skin of your ass smacking against his thighs, wet and sticky with sweat and arousal. Utterly lewd.

Satoru’s cock pounds against your sweet spot effortlessly each time you bounce in his lap. Brushes against your cervix when you lean forward just a little. It makes your eyes roll, the way he’s carved himself out inside you after all these years, the way your cunt moulds itself around him and clings to him so perfectly.

He looks so sweet beneath you. Taking everything you give him. His jaw is slack, his hair a tousled mess. His eyes are blown out, with nothing but dazed bliss behind them. His skin– hot pink and dewy. You’ve never seen him like this. So dishevelled. So ruined. And in the deepest corners of your brain, something has been altered. Something that makes you yearn for more of him just like this. 

It’s almost subconscious the way your hand traces up Satoru’s hard abdomen and sits on his neck. He shivers at the touch, his gaze flickering with something dark, before your fingers start to press softly into the sides of his neck. Ever so slowly, his moans turn to strained breaths. For a fleeting moment, the corners of his lips even quirk upwards.

What a slut.

You bend forward, your flesh warm against his ropes, your clothed tits pressed to his chest. Your lips slot against his, sloppy, your love spilling into him as you kiss him hard. Inside you, he throbs, just as a pulsing heat bubbles inside you from the constant friction of his cock brushing your sensitive spot. 

You pull away from his face, gazing into his irises to watch him slowly unravel. To let him watch the way you’re slowly starting to fall apart, too. You’re growing closer to your edge by the minute, refusing to falter your rocking hips despite how your thighs are trembling and starting to ache. Despite how pinches of pleasure run through your veins and make your head heavy.

When you gently loosen your fingers around Satoru’s throat, his chest blooms up against you as he gulps down the oxygen you’ve deprived him of.

“My little slut,” you whisper into his lips, pressing a quick kiss to them before straightening your back and pushing yourself upright. Suddenly, the urge to make both him and yourself cum is detrimental. 

One of your hands grips your tit over your bustier, squeezing at your own mound until your head falls back and you sigh. Your other hand travels between your legs, and you jump when your fingers find your swollen, sensitive bud. Still, the bliss that shoots straight to your core as you start to rub rapid circles into it has you moaning– loud.

From the sight alone, Satoru’s hips start to buck wildly up into you. His moans become never-ending, his cock jumping, balls tightening like they’re ready to be drained. 

“Fucking- gonna cum, can I? Please?” he huffs, squirming helplessly. You’re just impressed he still remembered to ask for your permission.

“Yes, Satoru, cum for me. Fill me up,” you tell him, breathless as you ride him with determination, clenching around him like you’re going to milk him– and you are milking him.

Satoru’s cumming, his back arching into the air as he sobs out, almost like he’s in pain. Your walls turn white, streaked with seed as his cock pumps you full. 

Still your hand works your clit relentlessly, your other hand flying to Satoru’s abdomen to steady yourself because before long your own orgasm hurtles towards you. Deep in your gut, the bubbling heat finally boils over, sending searing pleasure to your very fingertips. Satoru moans in unison with you as stars dance in your vision and your pussy tightens around him like a grip. 

A moment later, once you’ve come back down from your high, Satoru’s voice comes out in a rasp. “Let me see it.”

You lean backwards, bracing yourself on his thighs so you can lift yourself up off of him, letting his cock slip out and watching his sticky cum follow. It drools out of your hole so obscenely that you almost want to hide your face, until you remember that it’s your husband who’s staring at you. 

When the sheets are stained with every last drop that Satoru had emptied inside you, you collapse forward, heaving as you collect your breath. All at once, your aching thighs, your fatigued muscles, and your fuzzy head hit you like a punch to the face. The side of your face is pressed to Satoru’s plump chest, where his heart pounds against his ribcage so hard that you hear the way it races. 

“Did so good, baby,” you hum. Sleep calls you, wrapping its tendrils around you, but you fight it off in favour of clambering off of his lap. Something in your mind urges you to be gentle with him, like he’s glass– even though he’s anything but. Still– the blissed out, empty look in his eyes almost makes you sob. “Doing okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies, chuckling softly like he knows it’s exactly what you need to hear. 

“Can I undo the rope?” you offer, running a hand through his mussed up hair.

“No need,” is all he says. He sits up, stretches his arms to the sides, and the rope splits, falling off of his body in a crimson heap on the bed sheets.

You shouldn’t be this surprised; still, your mouth hangs from your husband’s display. Somehow it’s easy to forget just how strong he is until he reminds you once more. However, the ropes have also left their own reminder in snake-like imprints in his skin.

“You know, I was gonna offer to rub lotion on you, but apparently you don’t need it,” you huff. It’s not like he can’t just use Reverse Cursed Technique to heal himself, anyway. “Also, what if I wanted to use those ropes again?”

Satoru’s hand glides softly over your thigh, his face genuinely apologetic. “We can always get more, baby. And by the way, you were really good at that, you know.”

“You think so?” you question, leaning into him. “So, you’ll let me do it again, right?”

“Well, I didn’t say that.”

His words are void of any genuine objection. 

We’ll see about that.

to my wonderful beta reader @tetsutits <3 reblogs and feedback are much appreciated!

[chelseeebe]

and i never (saw you coming)

summary: coming back from college for the summer, you never would have expected to meet someone in your tiny town. and you most definitely would not have expected that someone to be steve fucking harrington.

a.n: so this is a henderson!readerxsteve BUT there are absolutely zero descriptors and no mention of being blood relatives or anything so please take the sibling relationship however you would like!! this is also a part one to a lil two part thing. set in s4 but i've changed it to be summer break rather than spring and i am finally writing canon material wherein the UD exists (part two) shout out to miss swift for the title xx

wc: 6k+

no smut but there may be in part two and as a baseline, i am an 18+ blog so please respect that. mentions of weed, drinking and sex. no use of y/n!

‎♡‧₊˚

Steve doesn’t usually make the effort to get out of his car to collect Dustin. But he had honked his damn horn five times now and was getting frankly sick of waiting for the petulant boy. 

He races up the gravel path, cursing under his breath about not being a fucking taxi and how he shouldn’t take him for granted. Steve’s sure there’s smoke coming out of his ears as he pounds on the door, prepared to give the boy an earful. 

His mouth is open when the door creaks open, “Dustin I have told you-,” it’s only then that he realises that Dustin isn’t the one behind the door. It’s you. 

“Excuse me?” you start, frowning at this apparent grown man who seemed to have a problem with your younger brother. As much as he got on your last nerve, you’d defend him to the moon and back. 

“You’re not- um, is Dustin home?” he asks sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck in utter shame. Dustin had mentioned you a few times and he was sure he remembered you from school but never really took much notice. 

“Why?” you ask pointedly, scowling at the man. He was from school, you knew that much. One of the basketball players that absolutely would have sniggered about you in the halls. 

“I’m giving him a ride to uh- to the movies,” he nods, realising that he sounded like an utter weirdo. 

“Aren’t you a little old to be hanging out with my brother?” 

Steve hesitates because yes, he probably was too old to admit that your little brother was his friend. Let alone the fact he considered him a best friend. 

“Uh.. I could see why you think that but mentally I’m probably more his age than mine,” smiling at you, genuinely not seeing an issue with his statement. 

Your eyes narrow, brows knitted together. You knew he wasn’t some dodgy old pervert but he had absolutely not helped his case there. “Right.. well, no. He’s not back yet so…” 

“Oh, well I’ll just.. wait in my car,” he nods, slowly turning to jump back into his car. Eager to not make himself look any stupider in front of you. 

You sigh, “you can wait inside,” opening the door wider for him, you wouldn’t hear the end of it from Dustin if you made his dear friend wait outside. 

He tiptoes into the house, eyeing the quirky decorations your mom had covered the house in. It was clear now why Dustin was so.. eccentric. He’s like a stray dog, hovering around the couch, too scared to sit down. 

You resume your spot, attempting to pay attention to whatever movie is on the TV but struggling knowing he’s still just standing awkwardly above you. 

“You can sit down, you know?” you bark, not bothering to look at him. 

He does almost immediately, running his sweaty palms along his knees. God, why was this making him so flustered? 

“You’re Dustin’s sister then?” the words falling out of his mouth without much thought. He wants to fall into the floor. Obviously you were his sister. Fuck. 

“Yup.” 

“Cool.. I haven’t really seen you before.. I’m uh-,” sticking his hand out for you to shake, “Steve.. Steve Harrington,” smiling as you glance at his outstretched hand, hesitantly shaking it. 

The mention of his name makes everything click into place. This is the infamous Steve that Dustin didn’t shut up about. You were in the same grade at school and had shared a few classes but had never really spoken. That might’ve been something to do with him being a gigantic prick the entire five years you were in school. 

“Oh,” you nod, trying to mask your apprehensions, “I remember you,” hoping that didn’t give too much of your distaste away. 

“Yeah.. I’m not like.. that anymore,” picking up on your obvious distrust. It’s not surprising that so many people still hold reservations about him, even he could admit that he wasn’t exactly a saint. 

You hum in response. You can mostly believe him because there was no way in hell Dustin would’ve ever become friends with someone like King Steve. In fact, knowing your little brother, he probably would’ve detested the kind of boy he was in school. 

“So.. you go to college?” he asks, trying desperately to change the subject. 

“Yeah.. uh, Chicago, I didn’t wanna go too far yanno?” not that you really could’ve. College was a last minute, fuck it kind of decision and you hadn’t really even planned on staying past the first week. But you had, and had even found yourself liking it. 

“That’s cool.. what do ya’ do? If you don’t mind me asking,” shifting in his seat, eyes dead set on you. 

“Language studies, it’s not cool or exciting at all but I enjoy it,” shrugging as you pick at the loose thread on your shorts, avoiding any direct eye contact. 

Despite Steve Harrington being a changed man, he still made you incredibly nervous and you felt like suddenly you were back in high school. He just had this aura to him and the way he carries himself, even now, was just intimidating. 

“No, that is cool? I wish I was smart enough for college,” chuckling nervously, “I bet it’s crazy out there.” 

Your definition of a crazy night meant smoking with Julia, your roommate, and eating a stupid amount of shit food. His definition of crazy definitely included some frat party and hooking up with some stranger in a crowded house. 

“Hah.. not really, I think maybe we have different definitions of crazy.” 

“Well, what’s your idea of crazy then?” 

You look around on the off chance Dustin and your mom had somehow snuck into the house completely silently, “getting high and eating a bunch of junk food.. not exactly the kinda shit you imagined.” 

“How d’you know what I imagined? Maybe I think that’s a crazy night too,” laughing at your assumptions, evidently he was still hanging onto that King Steve persona. 

“Nah.. you’re thinking of getting black out drunk at some party and then having sex with some girl you’ll never speak to again,” raising your brows, smug that you’d sussed him out completely. 

“Is that what you think of me?” jokingly placing his hand over his heart, shaking his head, “I don’t even like parties that much anymore and actually I think you’re right, that would be a crazy night,” smiling to himself. 

Because to him that did sound like a great night, and he’d kill to be able to do that with Robin and if it wasn’t for the fact that she got so intensely paranoid that one time they’d smoked together, they’d probably do it more often. 

“Oh, well.. you’ve surprised me,” giving him a small smile. You still had your reservations about him, but if he was good enough for Dustin, you were sure you could come to perhaps tolerate him. 

“Yeah, I do a lotta that nowadays.” 

“Well are you surp-,” you’re cut off by Dustin barging through the front door, nearly taking the damn thing off its hinges. 

“Steve? We’re gonna be late! C’mon!” he yells into the living room as if he wasn’t the one who had shown up fifteen minutes late. He’s huffing and puffing with his hands on his hips, clearly something inherited from your mother. 

“Woah dude, chill out,” he looks at his watch and jumps up out of his seat, “okay shit- sorry uh, oops let’s go,” rushing over to Dustin. He turns at the last second, waving at you over his shoulder, “it was nice to meet you,” a genuine grin on his face. 

“You too,” you call back, watching as your brother drags him out of the house. Muffled voices arguing over what time the movie started and how dare Steve enter his house without him present. 

Dustin’s still going on in the car after much push back from Steve that actually he was early and Dustin was the one who was late. 

“Your sister’s pretty cool,” Steve blurts out, driving along the bumpy road. He wants to rescind his sentence almost immediately after Dustin glares at him from the passenger’s seat. 

“Absolutely not. No, Steve. No.” 

“What?” flabbergasted that Dustin had so brazenly assumed he had some ulterior motive. He hadn’t even said anything. Not yet anyway. 

“Just no. I know you and I know what you’re thinking and I’m putting a stop to it now,” Dustin cringes, mentally perturbed by the thought of you and Steve even speaking. 

“Wha- dude, I was just saying.. you barely speak about her.. that’s all,” tapping on the leather steering wheel, playing it off rather smoothly, he thinks. 

“I know my sister’s cool.. way too cool for you, okay? So you should forget about it because it will never ever happen.” 

“I wasn’t even gonna.. you’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?” 

-

Steve’s sat in the booth, opposite what must be the worst date of his life. Dear God, Tammy Thompson was hot but holy shit was she annoying. Her voice agitating his ear drums with every word, irritating and nasally as she rambled on about her singing ‘career’. It wasn’t much of a career, Steve thought. Singing the national anthem in your high school gym was hardly a career. He thought it was quite sad actually. 

He nods along to her bullshit, maybe she would sound better when he got her into the back of his beemer. Well, he was hoping anyway. 

“You guys finished?” the familiar voice rings out across the table, his eyes darting from Tammy to find you standing at the end of the table with a fake grin plastered on your face. 

“I didn’t know you worked here,” he sounds confused, attention fully shifted from the blonde in front of him to you. Surely Dustin could’ve had the courtesy to let him know that you worked at his favourite date spot. 

“Uh.. yup, so you’re done?” still in customer service mode, trying desperately to ignore the awkwardness. 

“Oh, yeah.. thank you,” he smiles, pushing the empty plates toward you “how long have you worked here.. I’ve never seen you,” positively baffled but happy nonetheless. 

You shrug, “like sophomore year,” confused why he seemed to care so much, “I’m just doing part time over the summer..” stacking the plates as quickly as possible, wanting nothing more than to get far away from the awkward date you had stumbled upon. 

“That’s cool, I mean, I’m here a lot so..” 

Both you and Tammy flash him a look, granted hers was far more annoyed than yours. You mutter a small nice before scurrying off to the kitchen, relieved to be far from the impending disaster that was waiting to implode. 

-

Something’s not right. 

Even with Tammy practically climbing over the centre console to get to him, fully willing and eager.. he’s just not feeling it. Something or someone rather stuck in his head. They had been since last week and no matter how much he’d tried to shake it.. nadda. 

He pulls away from Tammy, sighing pathetically, “I’m sorry.. d’you mind if I just take you home? I don’t feel great..” he hopes it’s at least half-convincing. 

“Are you fucking serious Steve?” Tammy whines, staring across the car in utter disbelief.  

He offers an apologetic smile, shuffling in his seat to get away from her, “yeah.. must be something I ate.. sorry,” grimacing at this incredibly awkward moment. He couldn’t exactly tell her the truth, could he? 

“Whatever,” crossing her arms over her chest, frowning as she re-buckles her seatbelt, starting straight ahead. 

He starts the car with a sigh. She was a nice enough girl, but she just wasn’t.. well, she just wasn’t Dustin Henderson’s mysterious older sister who just hadn’t let this mind since you’d met last week. That was the problem. 

She doesn’t say a word as she gets out of the car, making sure to slam the door in his face when he leans over to say goodnight. He’s sure she’ll tell all her bitchpack friends who’ll vow to ignore him until he smiles at them over the Family Video counter and they’ll forget all about it. 

Why couldn’t that just work on you? 

-

You don’t see Steve for another week. Dustin normally runs out of the house the second he hears Steve’s car in the driveway meaning you don’t cross paths.

But now he’s sat in the exact same booth as last week, this time alone with a half empty cup of coffee in front of him. 

Your legs sort of work on their own, carrying your body over to the booth. It’s only when you’re stood at the end of the table do you realise you have no idea what you should even say to him. 

“Who’s the unlucky lady this week?” your mouth blurts out without second thought, startling him from staring out the window. His lips curling into a smile the second he realises it’s you. 

“No lady this week, flying solo,” internally dying from his choice of words. Yeah, that totally made him look cool. 

“Oh,” pulling the dirtied plate across the table, “Tammy Thompson didn’t work out then?” Why are you even asking? You shouldn’t care about who he dates. 

“Nah.. we didn’t really..” he mashes his hands together, “vibe,” smiling up at you from the seat. He obviously wasn’t heartbroken over it. 

“Well if it’s any consolation, I always thought she was a massive bitch,” and she was. One of those girls that prowled the halls waiting for somebody to humiliate. Bare in mind, Steve was too, he just picked on the weird boys rather than the girls. 

Steve chuckles, “yeah, she was.. or is.. I don’t know,” he’s sure that in her opinion, he was the bitch that didn’t want to hook up with her because his ‘stomach hurt’, and really that was a fair enough assertion. 

You give him a quick smile before picking up the plate, beginning to walk away when his voice calls out from behind, “what time do you get off?” 

“Nine.. why?” apprehensive as you answer. Spinning on your heel to face him. 

“I can give you a ride home? I mean, if you want?” 

You pause just before you reach the counter. It seriously would beat walking home in the summer heat. Dustin would certainly have a few choice words when you showed up at home in Steve’s BMW, but who cares? 

“Okay, yeah that’d be great.. thanks,” giving him a tight lipped smile, “you gonna sit there for the whole four hours?” 

“I- wh.. no,” laughing awkwardly because he hadn’t exactly planned what he was going to do until nine but he had assumed it’d be fine if just hung out here. “I’ve gotta go uh.. pick Robin up from work,” lie. He and Robin had worked the morning shift and she was off at some family dinner she had complained about all week. 

“Robin Buckley?” you ask, slightly confused as to how the two of them even knew each other. 

“You know her?” he perks up. 

“Eh.. kinda, we were in band together.. how do you know her?”

He’d love to tell you that they had become inseparable after nearly dying in a Russian basement with your little brother last summer. But he doesn’t. Because you, like the majority of Hawkin’s residents, were still blissfully unaware of the weird underworld that lived beneath your town. 

“We worked together last summer and now we’re best friends I guess,” it sounded far too simple as he said it out loud. 

He was an asshole in school and was well aware of that fact, someone like him would never have become friends with someone like Robin if it weren’t for the Upside Down. But he was grateful nonetheless, and telling you the shortened story was much easier than opening the can of worms that was the Upside Down. 

“Oh..” you nod slowly, “you really have changed, huh?” thinking back to Dustin’s constant appraisal of the new Steve and how you didn’t really believe any of it. 

“Yeah.. I don’t..” he clears his throat, “I don’t know if I was an asshole to you in school but if I was then.. I’m sorry,” looking sheepish as his head hangs low. In all honesty, he couldn’t really remember you ever being at Hawkins High but felt an apology was due either way. 

You nod, accepting the apology though the worst he’d ever done to you was the time he sat there and cackled as Carol Perkins knocked the pile of books out of your arm. 

“You want another cup of coffee or d’you have to go?” still clutching onto his dirty plate. 

He checks his watch, not that the time actually mattered as he’d leave here and probably end up driving around until it was socially acceptable to come back in. “I could do one more.. thank you,” grinning softly. 

You slip into the kitchen, questioning the warm, fuzzy feeling that had settled in your chest. Convincing yourself that it was only because he was being nice to you. Nothing more. 

-

Steve strolls in again at 8:40 after driving around the entire town, ending up parking in town and just watching the tiny clock in his dash until it turned 8:30 and he could slowly make his way back to the diner. 

It’s empty, has been pretty much all night bar the few regulars that seemed to spend their lives here. You’re sat behind the counter flicking through the Hawkins Post someone had left behind, reading about the upcoming bake sale. Riveting stuff, really. 

“You’re early,” you point out, looking at the clock that had moved incredibly slow all day. 

“I had nothing else to do so thought I’d try and squeeze one more cup of coffee from you,” he grins cheekily, testing the boundaries of this incredibly new.. friendship?

You roll your eyes, motioning over to the pot, “help yourself,” sending one of the clean coffee mugs over the counter so he could do your job for you. 

The clock slowly ticks over to nine and you do one last check around the place to make sure you’d done everything needed. Javie, the cook, had gone home already, thankfully cleaning the kitchen before disappearing. Begging you not to tell Kevin he’d slipped off early with a promise of whatever you wanted to eat on your next shift. 

You turn the key in the door as Steve stands behind with his hands shoved in his pockets, “are you normally the only one in there at this time?” walking beside you to his car. 

“No, Javie normally finishes when I do but he had a date or some shit so he left early,” shaking your head. It would’ve been useless to make him stay anyway. 

Steve jumps in front of you, grabbing the handle before you got the chance, pulling the door open, “Oh.. good, yeah that’s good,” closing the door and clambering into his own side. He wants to believe that he’s not sure why the mention of Javie’s name made him feel so funny.  

“You sound disappointed.. were you planning on robbing me?” chuckling to yourself. 

“No! No.. what? It just seems unsafe for you to be there on your own so late..” 

“It’s nine pm Steve.” 

“Yeah I know but.. there are a lotta weirdos in Hawkins yanno?” starting the car as quick as possible, not wanting to stick his foot in his mouth any further. 

You smile, it was very kind of him to look out for you after all. “Yeah.. I’m in the car with one right now,” glancing at him with a shit eating grin. 

“Oh ha ha.. you’re so funny,” rolling his eyes in jest though his lips twitch into a small smile. 

“I know that actually,” turning to watch the trees as they disappear behind you. The air is perfect, reminiscent of the summers you had here as a child. 

Steve takes the opportunity to look over at you admiring the night sky. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, this was going to be the death of him. 

Well, you were. 

-

Steve’s itching to just ask him, get it out while he’s driving so Dustin can’t run away. 

“So.. I have a question for you,” testing the waters before fully committing. 

“Uhh.. what could you possibly have to ask me?” Dustin asks, curious. 

“Well.. I need you to ask your sister if she’d maybe wanna come to the movies with me,” he holds up his hand to preemptively stop Dustin’s inevitable reaction, “I accidentally bought two tickets and I don’t wanna let it go to waste, so don’t start.” 

“Steve, I already told you that that is not happening.” 

“It’s not a date Dustin,” Steve hisses, “you said she liked horror movies so.. I thought she might wanna come.. that’s all.” 

Dustin looks incredulous, “since when do you like horror movies?” 

“Uh.. since forever?” lying through his teeth. Steve hated horror. Would point blank refuse to watch anything even remotely scary when Robin suggested it. 

“You’re a bad liar,” Dustin frowns, he’d had many of his own movie suggestions shot down by Steve for being inappropriate and too scary. 

He rounds the corner, pulling up onto your drive. He was running out of time to convince Dustin to do this for him. And see, he’d do it himself but that would mean he’d undoubtedly end up a bumbling idiot in front of you and that was not what he was aiming for. 

“Can you- will you please just ask her?” he begs, pleads even. 

“Fine,” Dustin rolls his eyes, sliding out of the car. His feet dragging along the pavement as he walks into your house, not bothering to give his usual wave to an idling Steve. 

He slinks up the stairs, banging on your bedroom door. Get it out of the way and then he could mourn the loss of both his sister and his best friend as quickly as possible. 

“Yeah come in,” you call from the other side, closing the notebook. 

“Steve asked me to ask you if you wanted to go and see some movie with him, he also wants me to tell you that he accidentally bought two tickets instead of one but I think you and I are both smart enough to know that isn’t true,” your brother rolls his eyes, perched in your doorway. 

You smile to yourself, rolling your eyes. It was childish but admittedly endearing, “tell him to ask me himself and I’ll think about it.” 

Dustin nods, frowning as he walks over to your bedroom window, leaning out of it to holler at Steve who was still sat in his car awaiting your answer, “she told me to tell you to ask her yourself,” sticking his middle finger up at him before storming off into his own room. 

You watch him leave, open mouthed before going to the window to find Steve looking up to your window. He points towards the door, shrugging. This really wasn’t how he’d have liked this to go. 

The door swings open and you blink at him, allowing him the opportunity to go first. This was his question after all. 

“D’you wanna come to the movies with me? I- Dustin mentioned that you like horror movies and I don’t wanna waste this ticket.. it’s cool if not,” Christ, he really needed to stop hanging around Robin so much. She had a knack for being completely defeatist before even receiving her answer and it was clearly starting to rub off on him. 

“Yes, I’ll go to the movies with you,” smiling softly at him. He really was light years away from the dickhead you once despised, now just some shy guy trying to ask someone out on not-date-date. 

“Okay,” he responds with far too much enthusiasm, “great.. Friday! I mean- I’ll pick you up on Friday.. eight o’clock,” cheesing as he walks back to his car. Throwing up a thumbs up before realising how stupid he looked and rushing to get into his car. Heart fluttering out of his chest. 

-

You’re shitting it. 

It wasn’t a date. No really, it wasn’t. 

But you couldn’t help the nerves bubbling up in your stomach as you wait for him to pick you up. 

“I think this is disgusting by the way,” Dustin pipes up, scowling as he paces the hallway. Desperately trying to conjure up a plan to stop you from going. He couldn’t think of anything worse than his sister and his best friend dating. He shudders at the mere thought of it. 

“Well it’s a good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion,” rolling your eyes, peering out of the window to see if his car had pulled up yet.  

“Why can’t you date any of the other losers in this town? Or someone at college? Why does it have to be Steve?” his shoulders slump, frown evident as he skulks into the living room. 

“Oh my God Dustin, stop it. Yanno, the more you complain about it, the more I’m going to make sure it happens,” letting go of the blind and giving him a smug smirk. For his sake, it probably would just be a movie. 

You weren’t exactly Steve’s usual type so you were certain that the second someone from school spotted you together he’d probably get embarrassed and drop this little crush. But hey, you could entertain the idea for the summer and perhaps you also had a tiny, smidgen of a crush on him too.

The doorbell rings out and Dustin lets out a ghastly wail, rushing to answer the door before you could. “You never come to the door for me!” he pouts, glaring at Steve who stood nervously on the front porch. 

“Because I don’t like you,” Steve jokes, attention quickly pulled from your younger brother as you appear behind him. “You look.. nice,” smiling as Dustin’s eyes ping pong between the two of you. 

“Thank you.. so do you,” barging past Dustin who looks positively distraught, “don’t cry too hard,” you call out, walking down the path beside Steve. The door slams when you reach his car and you share a look with Steve, giggling as he opens the door for you. 

The second you sit, the nerves come spilling over. This was no longer just a silly thing you could tease Dustin about anymore, it was actually happening and you were here and he was here and you were about to go on a not-date-kinda-date. 

You’re both fairly quiet on the ride to the cinema, exchanging small talk about your days and the movie you were about to watch. It was fairly obvious that he’d bought these tickets specifically with you in mind, because Steve Harrington would not willingly watch Friday the 13th, especially not on his own. 

“So you accidentally got two tickets, huh?” eyeing him from across the car. 

His cheeks flush, bottom lip trembling as he attempts to come up with something to explain his bullshit story, “I- fuck, no.. I didn’t,” looking bashful as he pulls into the parking lot, “I didn’t actually think you’d say yes.” 

“Why?” 

Steve sighs as he turns off the ignition, “I don’t know.. you’re like cool and in college and I’m just some loser from high school,” shrugging half-heartedly, finally meeting your eyes. 

“You’re not a loser.. you were a loser but, I think you’re pretty cool now.” 

His eyes widen, his smile fighting to come out, “I think most people would say the opposite,” he certainly didn’t hold the same level of prestige he had in school anymore. In fact, he’d sorta lost it in senior year when he’d decided that people like Tommy H and Carol were not the type he wanted to associate with. 

And it wasn’t like he’d lost it all, girls still fawned over him and the basketball team would still get excited to see him but he had kinda just slipped into the background. Another guy who had peaked in high school that was destined to stay in this dead end town with a dead end job and a wife he’d grow to loathe. At least, that’s what he had always pictured. 

“Yeah well, I’m not most people,” climbing out of the car. Not once in your life had you ever thought you would be telling Steve Harrington that you thought he was cool. Much less getting out of his car to go see a movie together. 

You’re met with a genuine smile from over the roof of the car, he doesn’t need to speak for you to know that he appreciates your words. 

For a moment you forget where you are until his eyes linger a little too long and your heart begins to pound again. Pulling your own gaze away and mumbling something about missing the trailers. 

-

It’s unfortunate and a little sickening but you can hardly focus on the film and even though it’s dark, you can feel his eyes shift to your face every few minutes, distracting you from the movie. You don’t look back of course, keeping your eyes firmly glued to the screen. 

His hand shifts suspiciously close to your knee, stopping just before he makes contact. You’re trying your hardest not to overthink it.  He’s just.. moving his hand. That’s all. 

Fuck. 

You were fucked. 

Your hands are practically trembling as you sit there. Finally gaining enough courage to look back at him the next time his eyes wander. 

Steve’s not like you, see. He’s a little nervous of course but he’s had years of experience with girls, knows all the tricks in the book to get them falling for him. And when it really came down to it, he could unleash his moves to have you right where he wanted. His eyes don’t flicker back to the screen, they lower, gazing at your lips instead. He wants to do it. He does. Urging himself to just lunge forward and close the distance between you. 

But you’re not like that. You wouldn’t have even looked at him twice in high school, immediately and rightfully passing him off as the dickhead that he was. These tricks were futile on you. 

“Watch the movie,” you whisper despite not watching it yourself, blinking rapidly as you feel your cheeks heat up. Praying that the dark of the cinema would shroud your flushed face. 

His lips twitch before slowly pulling his eyes away, nodding to himself as an acknowledgement to be on his best behaviour. 

It takes every single fibre of your very being to get through the rest of the movie without looking at him again. 

“Well I actually enjoyed that,” he professes loudly, walking out of the theatre a few paces behind you. 

“Oh? I’m surprised you actually saw any of it,” walking to his car in the pitch black parking lot. 

“I wasn’t talking about the movie,” grinning as he lays on that signature charm. It’s shameless and you feel like a fool for even falling for it. 

“Shut up,” you mutter, pulling on the door handle as his car remains locked. He sidles up to the passenger side, one side of his mouth curled into a small smile. 

“How tired are you on a scale of one to ten?” mere inches from your face. 

“Hmm.. a five.” 

“Great, get in,” leaning closer to open the door for you, outstretched arm keeping you between his body and the car. You swallow harshly, slipping past him and into the car.

You’re not sure if you like this version of Steve, the one that had the confidence to make you a bumbling fool for him.  

“Where are we going?” you eventually pipe up, bewildered that you had just let this boy drive you to this mysterious location without any contest. 

“You’ll see.” 

The very second he turns onto the darkened road you groan, knowing exactly where he had taken you, his motivations becoming increasingly clear. 

“Fucking skull rock?” you exclaim. Everyone had heard the rumours in school, this was his spot and girls were to be extremely appreciative if he brought them here. You should’ve known really, he hadn’t changed a bit. 

“Well yes, but that’s not why we’re here.. I swear,” only now realising how scummy this looked but the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind until it had yours. 

Your arms wrap over your chest, jutting your bottom lip out, “then why are we here?” you sounded disgusted with him. How could you have been so stupid? 

“Because I-,” the car stops in the tiny lookout spot, “wait, get out of the car,” he instructs, hopping out of his side. 

You don’t move a muscle, refusing to fall for his tricks once again. So he walks around the car, opening up your door, “look, I wanna show you something,” his tone is desperate and it makes you ever so slightly believe him. 

There was no chance he was that eager to make out with you surely. 

Your nostrils flare as you get out of the car, immediately wrapping your arms back around yourself. “What? What could you possibly have to show me out here?” 

“Just look,” pointing towards the sky. It was littered with stars, bright and twinkling with the view of Hawkins in the distance. It was breathtakingly beautiful, a sight you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. 

He chuckles, “I come here sometimes.. just to think and stuff,” scuffing his shoes on the loose stones, “I thought you’d appreciate something like this,” hands shoved into his pockets, gazing at you as you gaze at the sky. 

“Wow.. you can see everything from here,” still marvelling in the absolute beauty, blissfully unaware that he was doing the same, just not at the same beauty you were seeing. 

“I thought you’d like it,” dragging his feet along to the bonnet of his car, leaning back against the maroon metal. “I’m a little offended that you just assumed that I was tryna get you here for any other reason though,” laughing softly, what more could he do to prove that he was no longer that meathead jock from school? 

You finally break your gaze, looking at him as you join him on the bonnet. Heart pounding as your elbow brushes against his as you shuffle further up the car. It’s so silly, you feel like a fool, trying your hardest to contain your flushing cheeks. 

“I’m sorry..” admitting that perhaps you were a little harsh, “but can you blame me? We’ve all heard the stories,” purposely knocking your elbow into his arm, wiggling your brows. Turning your attention back to the picturesque view in front of you. 

“Yeah yeah.. that was a long time ago, I told you, I’m not like that anymore..” it’s only a tiny lie. He still made out with girls in his car and took them to darkened corners of your tiny town. But see, the difference was that he was actually trying to date these girls, mindless sex was no longer his goal. 

“Yeah I can see that now..” your shoulders slump, relaxing as your guard comes down, “thank you, this is a really cool spot and I’m grateful you chose to share that with.. me,” smiling softly. 

“You’re like the second girl I’ve ever shown this to.. by the way.” 

“Second?” poking fun at him. 

“Robin came first, obviously,” choosing to ignore your little dig. 

You had wondered why he wasn’t just dating Robin, he was a changed man now and obviously the pair got on like a house on fire so why wouldn’t he have tried it with her? Maybe he had and she’d shut him down. She seemed cool enough in band, definitely not someone that would ever be interested in Steve, no matter how much he had changed. 

“Ahh.. obviously,” trying desperately not to sound jealous. 

“So you like it?” watching your face instead of the sky once again. 

When you pull your eyes away from the sky to look at him, you’re taken aback to find him already staring back. “I love it,” the way the moon illuminated his face left you breathless, struggling to contain your heart in your chest. 

“Good..” he smiles before descending into some ramble about the stars and how he had discovered it. 

You weren’t interested. Focused on one thing and one thing only. Deciding against your better judgement to just do it. It was utterly reckless and someday you might live to regret it but you’d regret it tomorrow if you didn’t. 

Pressing your lips to his, quietening his little tangent. It takes him a moment to register what was happening and you doubt yourself, wanting to pull away and run through the woods hoping to never see him again. But it finally clicks and he springs into action, masterful hand snaking its way through your hair, resting on the back of your head. Keeping you right there, pressed to him just like this forever. 

Your hand nervously finds his cheek, brushing over the slight stubble that adorned his jaw. There’s no urgency, no ulterior motives. Pure and simple, only a desperate need to stay like this forever. 

You pull away, lips still lingering over his. A small giggle erupts from your throat, crumbling under his stare. “Sorry..” you mutter, still trying to catch your breath, “you were saying something..” 

“Sorry?” he exclaims, keeping his hand intertwined in your hair, “don’t ever be sorry for doing that.. like ever,” the stars reflecting off of his chestnut eyes back into yours, his features intricately lit up by the sky. 

“Okay..” laughing slightly, “okay.. I’ll keep that in mind,” shying away from his eyes, dipping your head. 

There was not one part of you that would have ever guessed that you would be the one to make a move on him first. Or that he could ever be so sweet, so kind and thoughtful and you feel awful for ever just assuming the worst of him without even giving him a chance. 

You’re pulled out of your head when his head dips down to match yours, “can we do that again?” thumb tracing back and forth along your neck. You nod quickly, chest bubbling with excitement as his lips connect with yours once more. 

It must’ve been gone three by the time you sneak back into your house. Praying that Dustin is already asleep as you sneak back up the creaking stairs. 

It’s too late. You’ve been caught. 

“Come here,” he whispers harshly, peeking out of his bedroom door, his brows furrowed. 

You oblige, slipping into his room and shutting the door quietly, “you gonna give me a lecture?” 

“No,” he sits cross-legged on his bed, “I was going to ask if you had a good time,” willing to put his pride behind him for the sake of his dear sister's happiness. 

Your frown turns into a grin, joining him on his bed, “I did.. he’s really nice, Dusty,” moving the deconstructed lego set from his duvet so you could scoot closer. “If you really don’t like it.. I can tell him that we can just be friends,” smiling earnestly at your little brother, it would suck but after all, he was Steve’s friend first.  

He sighs, swallowing his disgust, “you don’t have to do that..” this is hard for him to even get out, “if you’re happy then.. I’m happy,” giving you his brotherly blessing. 

You beam at him, “but, I have some rules that you’re both gonna have to agree to,” setting his boundaries for your budding relationship. 

“Shut up,” you giggle, ruffling his mop of curls before collapsing back onto his bed. 

You’re happy. Genuinely happy and you’re not sure anything could happen to change that. 

[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.

[tenjiiku]

1995 / i do

6k words

masterlist | next

“I’m never going to trust a man ever again! Never! Never in a million years!”

A woman wails to two of her friends in an empty ramen shop during a chilly Winter night in November. Said ramen shop was aptly named Minano Ramen, a few miles away from Minano Station, Saitama. Said woman had no correlation to the location (as she was a bona fide country-bumpkin, hailing from somewhere in Nagano), nor to the type of provisions being sold at the aforementioned ramen shop (she was in a committed relationship to whole wheat and everything which came from it). Still, her company grounded her — which is why said woman, Amaya Bando, persisted under such shoddy circumstances.

You, being one of Amaya’s closest accomplices, gently pat her back as she lounges across half of the dining table. Her blouse was an utter disaster, and her hair was in an even more uncanny state of disarray. Being as you were sitting in the stool next to her, you were in charge of physical comfort for the night: The Good Cop. Your friend, the owner of the family-owned Minano Ramen shop, Umeko, was overseeing the harsh, motivational talks — as she was across the counter from both of you, wiping down dishes to close up for the night: The Bad Cop.

“Amaya-chan, you will sprain a muscle exerting yourself like this,” you coo, ever-so-softly, gently running a hand through the woman’s chestnut coloured hair.

“So be it! It will just be another tragedy added to the list that is my life! What is one more, anyway!?”

“You’re turning red,” Umeko coolly interjects, passing a glass of ice cold water to the hysterical young woman, “calm down before you burst a blood vessel.”

Amaya, sniffling, finally lifts her head from the counter. She is, indeed, flushed in the face. Her nose is an almost violent shade of burgundy — and she blows it once more in the handkerchief you hand her. Your brows furrow and your lips pout. You did not like seeing your friend like this, even if she currently resembled a spider monkey.

“I just thought—,” a gulp of water, an exhausted moan, “I just thought Sota would—would be the one, you know?”

“For fuck’s sake— he made you pay on the first date. I’m glad he left you.” The Bad Cop chastises.

“You deserve someone so much better, Maya-chan,” The Good Cop consoles.

Amaya’s eyes fill with tears. She opens her mouth — presumably to resume shrieking — but nothing leaves. A few seconds pass just like this, her mouth gaping and her teardrops escaping her eyes to fall on her flushed cheeks.

“You think she’s paralyzed?”

“Umeko— you… don’t say that. She’s upset.”

“Over Sota…”

“Yeah, so?” Umeko shoots you a look which screams ‘Are you serious?’ which makes you snort and murmur a quiet, “What?”

“Sota.”

“I know Maya-chan’s ex-boyfriend’s name, Umeko.”

“The man with the receding hairline. Who made our dear Maya-chan take the bus home — knowing he had a car — from their first date. Which she paid for, by the way.”

Amaya chokes and you jump at the sound, gently patting her back and shooting Umeko a stern glance. Umeko only snatches the napkin you scrunch in your hand away from you and walks away into the back, presumably to throw it out. Or leave you and Amaya to your lonesomes. That too was a possibility.

“Why do you care so damn much about who and who didn’t pay on the first date?!” Amaya hollers, suddenly gaining the strength of twenty bulls when being on the receiving end of Umeko’s cold indifference.

Before you can interject, the woman is already returning to the bar, hot on her heels. You open your mouth — but, like Amaya, excluding the frenzy — nothing falls out.

“That should have been a sign! No good man would have taken you on such a shitty date. And what do you do? Call him an hour after you return home and tell him you had a good time! A good time! Your socks were soaked from the downright torrential rain for god’s sake!”

“Umeko—”

“Yeah?! Well— I—I’m a nice woman! Unlike you! I—I see the good in people. And Sot—So—… whatever-his-name, he—he did many good things after!”

“Amaya—”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Ume—”

“He—He bought me flowers! Took—Took me on other dates that he—he did pay for, by the way! Since money is everything to you!”

You sigh shakily into your cup of coffee and lean your cheek against your palm, grinning when you receive a message notification on your phone.

>> (19:00) Where are you?

“Yeah, he bought you chrysanthemums! You’re allergic to chrysanthemums! He basically tried to kill you!”

“Why—Why are you so mean?!”

“Why are you defending the man who dumped you to be with someone else?!”

A silence befalls the shop after Umeko’s last statement. The two women engaged in the for-some-reason argument recline into themselves. Peering up at them, you shake your head before sending a reply to the message you received moments ago.

>> (19:02) Minano’s. Witnessing Ume and Maya in a brawl. Got off work?

“I think we can all agree here that Sota is the real McCoy of dickheads. And I think we can also agree that Amaya is much too beautiful and kind hearted for half of Earth’s population — and that Umeko can use Benadryl.”

A huff escapes Umeko’s lips and she runs a hand through her dyed yellow-blond hair. Amaya snorts a laugh, snot escaping her nose and the last of her tears pouring from her eye. You squint a little at the sight, and take a tissue from the rusted napkin dispenser to hand it to her.

It is a peaceful quiet for a few seconds. Then Amaya asks, her voice strained with a hint of pure amusement tinted between, “What the hell does being the real McCoy mean?”

“The saying originates from Elijah McCoy. Quite a famous inventor in the late 1800s, owned many patents after a bunch of dupes followed his name.”

Umeko guffaws at your statement. She looks at Amaya. “Can you believe she’s the one in a committed relationship between the three of us?”

You snicker and smile smugly to yourself, with Amaya letting out a chortle of her own. She sighs, scooting her stool closer to yours to rest her head on your right shoulder. You pet her cheek with your left hand, the other holding your phone open.

“Where’d you find such a man like Rin?” Amaya sighs gently, nuzzling into the sherpa of your coat.

Umeko sets down the last bowl on the counter before leaning against it, elbows propped up as she sneaks a glance towards your phone screen. She leans closer, seemingly also wanting to know the answer.

“Find? They’d been attached to the hip since university. If anything, he wouldn’t leave,” Umeko teases. You grin shyly and shrug your shoulders, careful not to exert the gesture and disturb Amaya’s newfound calmness.

“Yeah,” you murmur, “I just got lucky.” Turning towards Amaya you lightly pinch the fat of her cheek, “It’s about to run out. I can feel it.”

The low lighting of the bar sets Amaya’s piqued expression so naturally — it was as though it were her instinctual reaction to everything.

“You’re just a perpetual pessimist. I’d be willfully ignorant and quiet if I were you. Evil eye is a thing, you know.”

“Since when did you become so spiritual?” Umeko retorts.

“Since my ex stole ¥11,000 from my shoebox and left without sparing so much of a goodbye in the middle of the night.”

Umeko and you still for a few seconds. It is so silent you can hear the bellowing of the snow outside the shop. Then, Umeko murmurs, very quietly, “The hell? You never told us that. That’s a crime.”

“It’s fine… he left his Grand Seiko watch.. I bet it will fetch a good price.”

You grin and Umeko huffs. “Good girl, Amaya.”

The chime of the door opening alerts the three of you. Though the closed sign was turned, the establishment remained unlocked. No one had ever dared come inside when the patio lights were off. At least, not until now. The sight of the person at the door, however, pains a pleasant smile on your face. You hop off of the stool, not without a groan from Amaya who has to resume laying on the cold marble of the bar table, wrapping your arms around your body to adjust your coat.

“Yo, Itoshi, we’re closed.” Umeko’s voice hollers from across the shop. Rin grins at the statement, and it grows when you approach him.

“Hello, Honda-san, Bando-san.” he greets formally, taking your purse with his free hand and adjusting it to fit into the crook of his elbow, where his briefcase rests. The side of his mouth lifts as he looks down at you — adjusting the collar of his peacoat.

“It’s Amaya, Rin-kun. A-ma-ya.” The half-drunk woman slurs into her mug of beer. You shoot Rin a teasing smile, making him apprehensively run a hand through his hair and loosen his wool scarf — a bright neon pink colour — which you bought him as a joke years ago, but for whatever reason he wears consistently through the cold season.

“What are you doing here?” You whisper to him as Umeko and Amaya argue on the latter’s alcohol tolerance — or, lack thereof. You place your warm hands on his cheeks, turning his face left and right as you look for any imperfections.

“I was in the neighbourhood. I thought you knew?”

Rin murmurs in the low voice you like so much — the one that leaks in the bedroom. Your eyes widen and you look up, meeting his roguish gaze. You subconsciously cross your legs and shyly adjust your hair and pencil skirt, looking down at your sore feet clad in heels.

“I—I didn’t think you were this close.”

And he really was not. His office was a good twenty minutes away from Minano Station, by train. Thirty, if you consider the harsh Winter blizzard and Friday night traffic. But if Rin Itoshi was anything, he was your overzealous lover.

“I wanted cheesecake,” he says, so casually deflecting your onslaught of guilt. It never hits you. He never lets it.

You laugh at this softly, shaking your head. He leans into your one hand that still cups his cheek and you can feel his smile against your skin.

“Your hair is a mess.” You mutter, bending down to meet his eye.

“You look very pretty.” He replies instantly, making you flustered all over again. Rin has gotten better with pouring out compliments in recent years. It still takes you aback each time you are the receiving end of them.

An obnoxious cry breaks the two of you out of the daze you find yourselves in. You turn to find Amaya glaring at you with disgust, then looking towards Umeko.

“Blah! If you both are going to be in love and whatnot, please do so with a five kilometre distance away from me.” She utters and Umeko resumes to bicker with her regarding what constitutes as too much beer to consume in one sitting for a four foot one woman in her late twenties.

Rin looks at you, confused. He bends down a little bit, to accommodate for the strain you put into your neck. You feel the side of your mouth twitch. You can practically see his tail wagging.

“Breakup. Sota is an asshole.” You explain. Rin hums.

“I never liked him. He tried getting me to invest in Worldcom. Its trajectory is not looking good.”

Amaya, still listening in on your conversation and tuning out Umeko’s incessant lecture, sits up as straight as a brick.

“What? So Sota’ll lose money?” She inquires.

Rin sighs, taking his hand to rest around your shoulder and nodding. “If he still holds, definitely.”

Amaya makes a sound between a choke and a laugh and simultaneously claps her hands. She leans back in her chair and you quickly step forward to catch it — Rin being pulled with you.

“Umeko-chan, keep the celebratory drinks coming!” The woman cheers loudly, chugging her empty mug and presenting it to the tired woman across the counter. Said woman sighs exasperatedly — turning her gaze to Rin and yourself.

“You two should leave. Amaya is an obnoxious drunk and I don’t want to ruin the eve of your 30th birthday.”

You giggle at this, and turn your eyes to Rin. You ask him mentally — “Should we?”. And he gives an answer by positioning your purse and his bag — “We should.”

“Alright. Maya-chan, drink responsibly.” You murmur, placing a kiss on Amaya’s temple. She hisses so you take a step back. You nod towards Umeko. “Umeko, take care.”

“Yeah, yeah. You better send us photos of the celebration tomorrow.” She answers, furrowing her eyebrows when Amaya raises her mug and slurs gibberish on simultaneously wanting to be loved and to be a cat.

As Umeko ushers you both out, the door chimes softly, signalling the end of the raucous camaraderie. The cold night air greets you once again as you step onto the snowy streets, your hand held tightly in Rin’s. Neon lights cast ephemeral shadows on the white canvas beneath your feet, creating a surreal ambiance. Rin’s touch provides a comforting anchor in the quietude of the night. The city, wrapped in its wintry silence, seemed to only amplify the tenderness exchanged.

“You’re so warm…” you whisper to Rin.

“Am I?” He mumbles, his voice deep and smooth. It sends shivers up your spine, “You’re making me incredibly nervous, dressed like that.”

A wind blows by. You blame the sudden gust of cold for the sudden rigidness you find yourself experiencing.

“Rin…” You mumble, hiding your face in his forearm.

He only laughs, and stops walking when the two of you are under a street lamp. Opening your eyes, you find him in front of you — looking as though you have a treasure he desires. He takes your cheek in one hand, caressing your cheekbone with his thumb. You lean into it, placing a kiss against the expanse of his thumb, and you giggle when you see a sudden redness develop on his face and earlobes.

“I love you.” He murmurs, leaning down to capture your cold lips with his warmer ones. You sigh, content at the warmth and the fluttering feeling travelling up and down your frames

When the two of you part, your whisper to him — a want, a need, something you have never received from anyone before. Until him.

“Never leave me.”

When Rin smiles, you know you are safe.

“Always.”

.

.

.

Five minutes after you arrive home, you vomit the contents of Minano Ramen Shop in a spectacularly violent fashion. In the quaint washroom you currently are in — still in your work clothes and with Rin in his half undone peacoat — resides two toothbrushes in a Miffy cup Rin bought for you for Christmas, a poster of the album cover of The Bangles, All Over The Place which the two of you found venturing small thrift shops in the corners of Shinjuku and pencil marks on the door frame — measuring your height for the last two years, bi-monthly (you have only grown half a centimetre. Rin has grown five.)

“Oh, love.” Rin mutters, holding your hair back as you clutch the toilet seat for dear life. You cringe at the smell, tear up and sniffle, then resume emptying the contents of your stomach — unwillingly, “I’m here. Let it out.”

Rin is very patient. You hang your head low, tears soaking your face. You do not want to see what you look like in the mirror. Probably anything but pretty. You can sense Rin bend down onto the soft bathroom mat beside you, massaging your shoulder and running a comforting, large hand down your back.

“Are you alright, darling?”

“Yeah, I—I think,” you gag before you can finish your sentence — and continue vomiting. Rin stays with you, his gentle voice acting as an anchor to ground you.

The whole ordeal lasts nearly a minute — but it felt like one hundred million years to you. By the end of it, Rin is carrying you to your shared one bedroom as you slur your words of protest.

“I can walk, Rin. I puked food… I think. Not blood. So I’m not dying.”

“You talk too much for a sick person.”

“I’m not sick,” you say, holding back another gag when you smell the remnants of vomit on your chin. Rin lays you down on your queen-sized bed, magically pulling wet wipes from his person and cleaning your face off. It is scary how overly attentive he can be at times. You were convinced he possessed psychic abilities for the first few months you started going out. Unfortunately, to your dismay, he was simply born with an innate sense of observation skills.

“Stay here.” He orders you, like you are a wet dog. He stands from his crouched position, and you feel much too dizzy to follow as he leaves the room.

He enters with a thermometer. You grunt.

“Rin… this is ridiculous.”

Of course, he does not listen to your demands. Hooking his index finger and thumb to your chin, he gestures for you to open it. You obey, of course — because you are hoping this attentiveness of his will stay after he is done this checkup of his.

“Your temperature is fine…” He murmurs, gazing down at the device. He looks up at your tear-stained face and his lips twitch, “I will go brew some tea.”

Anyway, he is gone again — and far be it for you to divert him from his rigid mind. You lay there, roughly for five minutes. You wonder if Rin is preparing anything else for you other than tea. You would not put it past him. Something possesses you when you are left to yourself, though. It has been happening for the past few weeks. A sudden intuition or shift in your brain — it tells you: ‘Something is wrong. Something is not right.’

You don’t know what exactly drives you to take a pregnancy test. You just turn your head to your bedside table, open the drawer, and see the plastic bag from the pharmacy. You picked up medicine for your frequent headaches and nausea, but, as stated previously — something possesses you when you are left alone. And, at that moment, it drove you to purchase some pregnancy tests. Plural, because this Thing is quite persuasive and nagging.

Rin returns to the bedroom, a tray with miso soup, warm rice, a cup of jasmine tea and leftover mackerel from this morning in his hands. He does not find you there. He calls for you, with no answer.

“Honey?”

A sound from the bathroom catches his attention. He places the tray on the bedside table, coming to you.

“Darling! What are you—”

You sit on the toilet seat, your hands shaking as you hold one of the tests in your hand. Your eyes are wide, and Rin sees it before you even have to tell him. He falls to his knees in front of you, bracing you by placing his hands on your thighs.

“It’s positive, Rin,” your voice is soft and weak. You can make out the sound among the ringing of your ears, “Am I losing my mind? Are you real?”

“Y/n…” Rin’s voice is even more gone. He opens his mouth, then opens it again. You can hear the tremble in his tone, “Is this real?”

You sniffle and your voice is wrecked as you whimper out, “What? Why are you asking me? I peed on the stupid thing and now it’s saying this. You think this is a sick prank?” You lightly hit Rin at the chest with your hands, but by the fifth swing he is bracing your wrists and looking up at your tear filled eyes with a pair of his own.

“Rin…” you feel your feet grow numb, and the ringing grows louder and louder, “I’m pregnant.”

.

When you were young — you would guess around seven or eight — you had a neighbour, Sana-san, who had a new man over everyday. Or, every night. You would watch her greet them from your parent’s bedroom’s terrace — typically around dinner time. Mama never let you watch television shows around 6:00 pm, so you resorted to watching your very own live reality show.

One particular evening, when papa was working overtime, and after watching Sana-san greet a man — who looked no older than 23 — with a hug and a kiss and a smile, you find yourself seeking out mama who cuts small chunks of potato directly into the hotpot. You only reach her hip, but you manage to fetch your stool so you can reach the counter height and observe as she makes your favourite beef curry.

“Mama,” You ask as she goes to wash her hands, “Why does Sana-san have so many husbands?”

Mama makes a sound between a choke and a grunt. You see her back stiffen and her hairs stand up. She turns to you, and in the softest voice she can manage, she explains to you.

“They—They are not her husbands, kitten.”

“But I saw her kissing them.”

“Where?! Where did you see that?”

“From the terrace. Every time I feed Inari.”

The stressed woman buries her face in the palms of her hands. You tilt your head, and follow her as she gestures to you outside the kitchen. Was she upset that you housed a bush warbler, whom you named Inari? You sit on the couch, as she crouches you in front of you with her apron still on.

“Kitten…” she starts, “Listen to me, Sana-san is a… very peculiar woman. She has her own ordeals and I have mine. I only have papa and she… she chooses to have many lovers.”

“Lovers? What does that mean?”

“It’s in the name. Someone you love. They are your lover.”

You hum at the explanation, then smile widely, “I want to be like Sana-san when I grow up. She has so many of them.”

Mama’s eyes widen the size of saucers, and she clasps your hands on her own. You flinch at the sudden movement.

“Kitten!” She blurts. You tilt your head.

“What?”

“You don’t— You shouldn’t strive for that. I mean, it’s nice, you’re right — she has many… many lovers. But it is even more special if you have one true lover that will stay with you forever and ever — like your Prince Charming. Right?”

You look into mama’s eyes. She seems tense. Strange, considering most of the time she is very much composed. It must be important, then, that you take her word for this situation. Though Sana-san seemed delighted every night, you were never the early bird — so you never saw her expression when her lover for the night would leave in the morning. Was Sana-san aware that they were going to leave? If she knew, how did she manage to say goodbye? Would she even get the chance to if they left without saying anything?

The possibilities all send an unpleasant feeling in your stomach. You want to eat curry and forget about it.

“I guess so…”

And that was it — at least for the night.

The next month, you saw Sana-san for the last time. She had come over, actually. You remember mama telling you to go upstairs when the woman came. But, being the sneaky seven or eight year old you were, you managed to hide yourself around the corner of your living room. You recall seeing Sana-san sob into her hands, and mama holding her small frame. You’d never seen Sana-san cry — not like this, not in general. The woman seemed so much smaller to you at that moment. You did not know what she was crying about, until you were thirteen and were running errands with your mother when you asked in the chip aisle — casually and erratically.

“She got pregnant. Her.. partner at the time wasn’t pleased. Neither were her parents. She moved to Australia, to live with her Grandmother.”

You swore to yourself from that day forward, you would never allow yourself to ever be in Sana-san’s place — even if you had to let go of everything good in life.

.

But you were a naive thirteen year old. You acted like you were thirty at that age. Now that you are twenty nine — you are acting as though you are nine again. Maybe living with your debilitated grandmother would be better than finding out you are pregnant with snot and vomit covering your shirt.

“Y/n.” Rin calls for you, squeezing your hands, “Everything will be okay. This is… it’s all alright. At least, it is to me.”

“You’re fine with this?” You ask, and your voice is drenched in anxiety and an unfamiliar rawness.

“Of course.” Rin expresses, looking down to meet your eyes when you lower your face to avoid his, “Are you?”

“I—I’m going to be a mother, Rin.” You whimper, “You—You’re going to be a father.”

The sudden realisation hits you — and it feels like a million pounds descend on top of you, not giving you any room to breathe. You feel terrified yet ecstatic, all at once. The beginning of an end.

“Oh—Oh,” you fall into Rin’s embrace, and he holds you — all of you, the dirty bits and emotional parts.

“I’m right here,” he whispers, “I love you.”

Through your sobs and whines, you murmur a small anxiety which makes Rin laugh and you feel alright.

“I drank black coffee. An hour ago. What if they’re hurt?”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine.” He whispers, and you feel a wetness fall on the top of your head, “We’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.”

.

.

.

The next morning and late into the afternoon, you decide to take on the role of an interviewer, with Rin being your more than willing subject.

Brushing your teeth together in the one bathroom you have in your shared apartment, staring at each other’s features — trying to see which one falls first:

“What if—What if my feet start to swell? And my boots don’t fit anymore? I’ve heard that happens…”

“We can buy new boots, love.”

Rin, frying an egg for you on the stove as you stir your cup of coffee again and again and again with a spoon — as though your milk and espresso could be anymore amalgamated. The pigeons you shelter in the heated house you impulsively spent two weeks salary on — when you stumbled upon one shivering in the corner of the building entrance — chirping a morning melody for you in the snow-covered balcony. Brrr brrr brrr:

“Where will the—the,” your voice becomes a whisper, as though you are uttering a profanity or a strange secret, “baby,” then it returns to its normal tone, “sleep for the first few months?”

“With us, of course.”

“What if I smack their face? You know I’m a violent sleeper.”

Rin brings you your egg in one hand, and in the other, a bowl of freshly cut strawberries. He places a kiss on your forehead when he leans down towards you, “I am pretty sure there are beds for newborns we can look into to prevent that from happening.”

Standing, frozen, in the food bar of the grocery store — eyeing today’s special: sashimi. Rin directly behind you, reading the discount of chocolate chip cookies — 2 for the price of 1!:

“I am not allowed to eat raw fish. I—I shouldn’t. Well, I don’t know. Mama ate it all the time when she was pregnant with me. I turned out fine, didn’t I?”

“You did.” Rin murmurs, holding your hand but not turning around, making his arm bend in an uncompromising manner, “You turned out beautifully.”

You turn your head to Rin, then back to the sashimi, then back to Rin. You walk up next to him, and wrap your two hands around his forearm, resting your head against his bicep.

“I will eat tempura.” You mumble, and without looking, he pets your cheek as he reads the sale written on the sign.

And, the present — as the two of you sit side-by-side in your childhood bedroom, on your twin-sized bed that still has the same sheets on it as you left it (washed, you hope, if your overzealous mother remained overzealous enough):

Only a lamp is on. Its golden hue sets a peaceful tone. The window is open, the curtains bellowing at the cold Winter breeze filters through the wires. This was your sanctuary for so many years — until you left for university. You shared so many memories in this room, and now your unborn child… (Fetus? Really, what should you refer to them as at this stage? They must be not even the size of an edamame seed) resides in the same room you had your first kiss in.

You sit quietly, just like this. You can feel Rin observing you, as he always does. Except, unlike all of the other times, he gives you your space — room to act as unadulterated as you please.

Your mouth opens, and you can feel your lips tremble when you hear your mother and Rin’s laugh with one another about the wilted tulips outside, on the porch.

“I— we have to tell… our parents.” You say, your voice the quietest it has been today, “Just in case… in case anything happens. They’ll… They’ll have to find out eventually— if—if that happens, right?”

Rin has your left hand in his lap. He holds it with both of his, gently massaging the skin. He picks it up, and places a small kiss, before returning it to rest on his thigh.

“Nothing will happen. But, you’re right. We should tell them, preferably before you start to show. It would be a little… awkward if that were to happen.”

You laugh, and you cannot help but let a few tears leave your eyes. You turn your face to Rin’s, urging him to hold you. He obliges, and runs his thumb across your under-eye to catch your tear before it falls. You cannot believe how hormonal you are already starting to act. You are apprehensive on finding out how you will completely and utterly change as a woman — as a human being — for the months to come.

“Papa is out buying me a cake, right now. And his unmarried daughter is pregnant. God.” You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“Is that what you are worried about? Having a child out of wedlock?”

You snort, “Out of wedlock? What are we? In the 80s?”

“Darling.” Rin whispers, and damn him for calling you that — because he knows you like it so much, “If that is what you are worried about… it’s trivial.”

You are hormonal and cranky and pregnant, so, obviously you flip out on him over a very rational statement with no hidden undertones.

“What? How is that trivial you bastard? Are you going to be a deadbeat father— only visit during holidays and their birthday, is that it—”

Rin cuts you off — shuts you up, for a lack of a better term — with a suggestion so out of left field it almost makes you jump.

“I want to—I want to marry you, Y/n.” He starts, his voice louder than it was before, “And… And I want you to want me to marry you, too.”

For a few seconds, you say nothing. You just stare at him, as the moonlight behind you paints him in an evanescent glow. For a moment you think you are looking at an apparition from a dream. But Rin looks at you — and he looks at you with all the seriousness of a thousand men.

“You propose like this? When I look so hideous?” You say, your voice weak.

“You never look hideous. Ever. For as long as I’ve known you.” Rin mutters, getting off of your twin bed to only bend down on one knee in front of you. His hand plays with the hem of the dress you wear. He kisses the tips of your fingers, each one, looking up into your eyes.

“You—You are serious about this.”

“I am always with you. You know this, more than anyone.”

You feel your breath hitch. You feel the urge to hold him. Do something to sedate this uneasiness within you. So you mutter a half-brained statement, successfully pushing this off of you.

“You… Grandma does not even know who you are. Neither do any of my distant cousins. We—We’d have to let them know, too. Right?”

Rin pauses. His eyes widened. Your lips tremble as he cups your right cheek.

“Is that a yes?”

“I—There’s so many—There’s so many things to take into consideration—,” you start. But Rin does not let you finish this time.

“I know,” he says, voice low and you feel the thousands of pounds lift from your frame. “But is that a yes?”

.

You hold Rin’s hand as the two of you make it downstairs to the living room. You adjust your dress, and Rin his tie. You make sure to stop in front of a mirror to wipe the remnants of red off of Rin’s lips. He only smiles down at you — almost as though he is proud of the current situation.

Really. What the hell was I thinking? Having sex with my parents downstairs, in the bedroom I used to play dolls in. What type of answer is that to someone’s proposal?

“Sweetheart,” you jump when Rin’s father and yours appear from thin air. You instinctively grab onto Rin’s forearm, and his hair falls on his face when he bows to greet your father. The man in turn only holds a hand out, and Rin stands up straight again.

“Happy birthday,” Rin’s father smiles at you, holding out an envelope. Your eyes widen.

“Otousan… you shouldn’t have…”

What leads from that conversation is a lot of back-and-forth. What the etiquettes one should follow on someone’s birthday are — even those who may be close to the birth haver. Your father rehashing his thirties, with Rin’s father going into vivid detail about all of the spicy details and drama which enfolded in the University of Tokyo, where he was taking his masters.

By the time your fathers let the two of you be, your feet are already sore.

“It’s starting, already.” You sigh dramatically, and you can’t help but giggle at Rin’s expression.

“Relax, honey. My feet are just sore. I’m not giving birth at this instant.”

Rin’s eyes widen even more, and he looks around him to make sure no one is listening. He knocks his forehead against yours.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he mumbles, low, eyes flickering between your eyes and lips.

“Keep it in your pants, Itoshi.” You bite back, kissing his cheek. He places a hand on your hip, but before you can even start, a tired voice speaks up behind Rin.

“Still seeing my brother, huh?”

Rin turns and you watch his face drop. You grin and step in front of him.

“You ask that every year, Sae-san.”

“And every year I hope to hear another answer,” The red-haired man retorts. You shake your head as Rin and him start to argue amongst themselves.

Hearing a knock at the front door, you excuse yourself to fetch it.

“I’ll get that.” You say, leaving Rin and his brother to fight in your living room — you have learned you can lead a horse to water but cannot make it drink.

You were not expecting anything when you opened the door. It could be a few other family friends mama invited. You were happy and you were content. You had a loving family, a loving partner, and a cake awaiting your arrival.

But, when you turn the door and your eyes meet the man who stands there — the same as he left you — you are suddenly nineteen again, and going through the first heartbreak of your life.

“Long time no see star-girl,” he says, a nickname you have not heard in nine years.

“Yoichi…”

You were right, last night — your luck was beginning to run out.

[insult-2-injury]

To Crush a Foe

Tartaglia x f!reader NSFW 6K

Wrote this months ago for @chickenparm and her hydro husband 💦

AO3 Link (fluff, pining, fingering, p in v, dirty talk, friends to lovers, reader is traveler)

~ ~ ~ ~

Surreal. That was the word you decided on; that strange fusion of emotion that went along with the final crushing of a former foe. Not in the crossing of swords, this time, no, but in the acceptance of a simple invitation.

Gods, if someone had told you one year ago you’d be sitting here eating supper with Childe’s family, you would have had yourself a good laugh right in their face.

“How did you fare on the ship ride over, dear?”

“Hm?”

His mother smiled. The charming ease of it was uncannily reminiscent of your red-haired travel companion beside you, who only smirked at your quiet, nervous reverie. If you sat anywhere else, outside the comforts of Childe’s kitchen maybe, you’d smack him upside the head in an instant for that.

You’d avoid such confrontation here. 

“It was great!” You felt your face heat at the over-enthusiastic crack in your voice. Why were you so nervous suddenly? You had nothing to prove here. “Truthfully, I stayed inside the cabin most of the trip. Here I thought Dragonspine was cold.”

“Well I’m certain you’ll adapt just fine,” his mother said. “From what we’ve heard, you’re quite the adventurer. Our Ajax is lucky to have you.”

You blinked. You weren’t stupid. You knew what it looked like: the implication of him bringing you here. You could only hope that Childe had set the record straight: that you were just two people who had put aside a lifetime of differences in order to tolerate the other. Friends, you’d almost call it. Comrades, he would say in that unerringly cheerful voice of his.

You nearly jumped when Childe’s palm reached to wrap the top of your leg beneath the table, squeezing slightly.

“Forgive her for the spaciness, mother, she’s not used to the company of humans.”

You whipped your head over to him with an incredulous frown, dislodging his too familiar touch by crossing your legs. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Relax. I only mean she has an… interesting array of travel companions.” You narrowed your eyes at the impish grin crawling across his lips, both of you knowing full well he’d be calling Paimon a floating flour bag if his mother weren’t sitting right there.

“Oh what, like you’re just some ordinary guy?”

He chuckled. “Far from it!” The table creaked as he leaned forward on his elbows, addressing his siblings.

“I kid, of course. It’s just as I said in my letters home. The traveler here has embarked on adventures all across Teyvat, each more impressive than the last. It’s a wonder she doesn’t have a big head.” He gestured with his fork toward Tonia, Teucer, and Anthon, who sat like grinning ducks in a row. “You know… you’d be wise not to mess with her.”

The back of your neck prickled and you reached up to scratch at the heat. The center of attention was never a spot you particularly enjoyed. 

“I’m not so scary.”

“See,” Childe said, leaning forward conspiratorially, “this one’s as tricky as they come. Don’t let her fool you, she’s a force. May have even knocked the wind out of me once or twice.”

You’d done more than that. You shook your head, something tender and nervous fluttering in your chest at the flattery.

“Enough talk about me,” you said, waving him off and addressing the kids. “Tell me about your adventures.”

And as they did, you became lost in thought.

Why had you accepted his invitation again?

Oh yeah, because he’d been relentless about it. Sending you letter after letter to come visit his family, along with pictures. Pictures of the gifts he’d sent over for his younger siblings' birthdays, the extravagant meals he’d eaten on his latest adventures. So many letters and pictures that it became something of suspicion to your other traveling companions. 

And you were hopelessly intrigued, warmed by the trust he put in you, each battle making it progressively harder to find a way to dig into that diminishing well of rancor in your chest that had existed so strongly only a year prior. 

But you’d pushed that flicker of affection aside and you’d told him to cut it out, that sending you messages across Teyvat was nothing short of reckless, but he’d matched your fervor with a cheeky smile.

“What, a guy can’t send a letter to a friend?” he’d said before unleashing a torrent of hydro upon you.

And he had worn you down– so much so that one day you’d just… accepted. Plain and simple; sent a single word answer back: Fine.

Gods, you wanted to fight him. You wanted that hand on your thigh again.

“Did Ajax get you properly packed, then?”

“Hm?”

She smiled and repeated herself.

“Oh. Sort of. He sent a checklist and I did the rest. I did get an – unnecessary – talking to about my wardrobe selection on the way here, though.”

Childe smirked. “All she packed were pretty little sundresses-”

“He’s lying.”

His booted feet crossed at the ankles as he balanced back in his chair, chin tilted down so he could properly examine you.

“I did give you a bit of a hard time, didn’t I, traveler? You weren’t too happy with me at all.” He reached over and playfully flicked a loose piece of hair that had been covering the full extent of your side glare. He laughed and turned to his mother. “You should’ve seen the way she was huddled up in the cabin, it was quite the entertainment. Folded herself up like the cutest little block of ice.”

Your heart skipped a beat, face heating, but he seemed all too casual. Cute? Who was he calling cute? You vowed to serve his head on a platter at the next family meal.

“It’s much colder at sea,” you muttered. 

“You wouldn’t believe it now, mother, but there was a time she’d have had my head for teasing her like this.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t rule that out just yet.” Your eyes darted across the table to meet his mother’s twinkling gaze. You felt the uneasy furrow in your brow immediately begin to smooth and softly, you smiled back at her.

Childe re-crossed his arms cheerfully. “Luckily we’re on better terms now, aren’t we traveler?”

“Not for much longer.”

His family laughed. Unable to meet his gaze, you dropped your eyes to your plate, clanking your silverware around, feeling like a nervous child.

The rest of supper was uneventful, all things considered. You told them of your adventures; the choleric skies of Inazuma, the rolling hills of Sumeru, embellishing a bit only for the benefit of the younger Teucer, who sat on his hands, looking between Childe and you with a shining devotion.

The boy, then, with the enthusiasm of a dog with a bone, launched into the story of that day at the “toy factory”, when you’d seen the first glimpses of the shadows Childe hid inside. It both pleased and saddened you to know that the boy held the memory so close to his heart. 

So shockingly in tune you were with the outward flow of Childe’s energy that it was impossible to ignore the near imperceptible shift in his demeanor. You peeked at him. Childhood had to end somewhere, of course, but knowing what you did about Childe, the last breath of innocence had come for him much too soon. Which made Teucer’s fearlessness all the more troubling to him.

“I worry.” Childe had written to you once in a letter. “I was never so bold as him. Not then at least.”

Those shadows of himself, they weren’t so easily hidden from you now.

Childe’s fingers tapped lightly upon his thigh and like a rubber band pulled taut, your hand snapped toward him with zero destination, your heart solely aching with the sudden need to comfort. He stilled, gaze dropping surprised on your fingers fluttering uncertainly upon the bare skin of his forearm.

Embarrassed, you moved to pull away, but quick as a flash, his hand snatched you back, warm, gloveless fingers capturing yours, threading them through and tightening. 

Teucer kept talking, everyone clueless but perhaps his attentive mother to the pyro burst that had just singed through your every waking nerve, something a lot like terror running rampant through your veins. Your skin felt too hot at the simple touch, stomach too tight. 

You jumped when Childe chuckled at Teucer’s exuberance. His hand idly squeezed yours, thumb rubbing idle circles into the skin between your thumb and index finger. When his head quirked to the side and found you quietly studying him, the corner of his lips began to curl into the makings of a soft smile.

You looked away, swallowing around the tightness in your throat.

He liked to be near people; liked to hug and touch arms and ruffle hair. But this was a gesture that implied the two of you spoke often through touch. 

Well, you suppose that wasn’t entirely untrue. 

You fought often, after all, and battle was an intimate affair; breaths intermingling, swords locking as you met in the middle again and again. Insults would fly, sweat would mix, your own gasps of exertion displacing that damp lock of ginger hair that always plastered to the center of his forehead when you’d been at it for awhile. The mere thought of it now had heat pooling like liquid gold in your belly.

You yanked away from the intimate grip and flew up from your seat to start helping his mother at the sink. With a yawning stretch, Childe stood and started clearing the rest of the dishes and your heart squeezed at the sight of this domestic side of him.

Teucer’s arms wrapped your legs from behind. “I’m so glad you’re dating my brother.”

The laugh on your lips turned into a choke as your brain short-circuited, thoughts turning to mush as your eyes widened on Childe, who’d frozen mid-step, a stack of dishes fitted into the crook of his elbow. You could almost see the cogs turn in his mind as mischief flared in his eyes like a lit match, terribly devilish when coupled with the slight upturn of his lips. He cocked his head at you as if to say “well?” a tuft of autumn hair falling across his eyes. 

Gently, you detached yourself from the boy. “We’re- we’re not uh…”

Teucer’s brows furrowed, shoulders falling in disappointment. 

“You’re not? But…” He looked to his older brother.

There was something so sad in the boy's voice that you hesitated and the silence grew incriminating, thicker and thicker until his mother stepped in. 

“Teucer, sweetie-”

“We are,” you blurted, voice pitching unnaturally. “Yeah, uh. We are.”

“I knew it!”

Teucer beamed up at you and then let out a loud whoop, running away with his arms raised high.

You blinked. Oh Archons, you’d said it. You’d just said yes. You’d lied, sealed yourself off to a fate of the worst kind of humiliation at the hands of your former foe. You didn’t think it was possible for your cheeks to get any hotter.

Childe regarded you from beneath his brows and you quickly looked away from his terribly unreadable expression.

He turned to his mother abruptly. “So how are the fish biting this season?”

Oh, you were going to kill him.

The rest of the night was a blur. You didn’t address Childe and he disappeared anyway, making himself busy putting the kids to bed as you helped clean up and chatted with his mother, who blessedly didn’t mention your gaffe.

You hardly remembered what half-baked excuse you’d murmured in order to excuse yourself. You thanked her for dinner, bundled up quietly, and headed out into the bone-chilling cold, the bitterness a balm for your frayed nerves. 

You approached the tiny guest house.

Gods, what spun out lie would you have to come up with to get out of this one? You considered slipping away into the night as you turned the key in the lock.

The room was pitch black and you fumbled for a good few seconds for the light before cursing, finally conjuring up a crackling ball of electricity in your palm.

“Hey, girlie.” You yelped and crashed back against the door right as light blossomed across the one room house. “Took you long enough.”

Childe was eyeing you lazily from his laid back position on your bed, looking wholly bored. Like you’d kept him waiting for hours. His hands were laced over his sternum, fingers tapping an unheard rhythm.

“What is wrong with you?” you hissed. “What is your insistence on always slinking about like some creepy old ghoul?”

“A ghoul?”

“You almost scared me to death!”

“Oh,” he said casually, propping himself up on his elbows. “Well it would be awfully depressing if after all this time I lost you to a bit of fright.”

You set your jaw and marched over to light the small fireplace, shrugging out of your coat, anxiety surging forth to take the place of the adrenaline ebbing out of your system, your hands shaking slightly as you stoked the fire. The image of him propped up on your bedspread was a tantalizing one. His gaze prickled at the back of your neck.

“Freezing in here,” you muttered. A chuckled response at your nervousness had you spinning around to pin him with a lethal glare, the fire behind you swelling at your call.  Your hand instinctively went to grab the hilt of your sword, only to remember it lay packed away in your bag. So your arm whipped out to point at him accusingly.

“What are you even doing in here? Get out!” 

“There she is,” Childe said, his voice almost reverent as his eyes flicked across you. “Stay right there, traveler. Perfect. You know, you’re quite the pretty picture like that.” A small thrill shuddered through you at the flicker of dark excitement in his eyes, there and then gone. His palms raised in mock surrender when your nose scrunched, fists balling angrily at your sides. “Hey, no need for theatrics. You’re my guest, after all. What kind of host would I be if I didn’t make sure you made it home safe?”

Your focus flickered briefly to the wide spread of his long legs.

“On my twenty foot journey over here?”

His head fell against his hunched shoulder with a teasing grin. “Who knows what sort of ghouls lurk around the forests of Snezhnaya?”

“I mean, I’d hope you would.”

Childe shrugged. “I do,” he admitted. “I just couldn’t let my best girl leave without so much as a goodnight.”

A shocking brightness blossomed in your chest and you set your jaw against it.

“Okay. If this is about what I said earlier… it was a slip of the tongue and I’m embarrassed enough as is so-”

“C’mere.”

“No.” 

His mouth tilted into a fond smile. “Please?” He pushed himself to sit fully upright, leaning forward, elbows coming to prop atop his knees. You squinted as if he’d grown a second head. “Come on. I have something for you.”

“Last time you said something to that effect, I was nearly crushed by a whale.”

“It’s nothing like that. Swear on it.” He placed an earnest hand over his heart. “Besides, this shack is far too small, not much merit in taking us both out, don’t you think?”

“You’ve done crazier things.” You drew on your dwindling anger. “Like calling me cute.”

“You are cute,” he said. “Especially when you get all spitty with me like this. Now come here. Please. Don’t make me beg.”

You swallowed, fingers twitching at your sides, a sudden desire thrumming a needy tune between your legs. Bracing yourself, you stiffly closed more space between the two of you, still stopping several feet away.

He hummed disapprovingly. “Closer. Come on. You scared or something?”

“I’m plenty close. And if you hand me a stupid beetle or something, I’ll kill you.”

His hand flew out to grab a fistful of your shirt and yank you forward with a squeal. “Childe!” you shouted, catching yourself against his shoulders.

“There we go,” he said softly, your faces only inches apart. “Not so bad like this, is it?” He reached behind him. You relinquished your hold on his shoulders but his knees tightened around your thighs to keep you moving away. And for the first time, your instinct was to stay. 

“Here,” he said, pleased. “Tonia told me to give this to you.” A single flower was in his hand, a beautiful coral red star with giant, shimmering petals.

You struggled to find words in the following silence. “Oh…”

“Do you like it?” The dark stem of a dendrobium spun between his agile fingers as he stared at it in thought. “I suppose you’d already know it’s a rare thing to come across one. There’s a legend in Inazuma that says dendrobiums can only grow in the wake of spilt blood. The bloodier the soil, the prettier and bigger the petals. Someone smart as you could probably puzzle out why I’m drawn to such things.” 

Your nervous swallow was excruciatingly loud. “How would Tonia have-”

“Traveler…” he scolded quietly. Your breath cut embarrassingly short when his teasing gaze rose to meet yours. “You know how it hurts my heart when you don’t listen. I never said Tonia picked it herself. Just that she advised me to give it to you. After all, it was you that came to mind when I spotted it poking out so colorfully from between the rocks. Do you mind?” 

His hand rose and he waited before taking your frozen, doe-eyed gaze as permission to sweep his fingers ghostlike up your cheek to push a fallen strand of hair behind your ear, sliding the flower into your hair.

The significance of his words hit you with the force of a raging Sumpter beast. He’d picked a flower for you. Such a simple gesture, yet your heart slammed in your chest. 

Was this all some ploy? Your throat tightened further when you found no such evidence, bottom lip warbling slightly.

“Thanks,” you said carefully.

Slowly, studying you closely for any signs you meant to pull away, Childe curled his index fingers into your belt loops. His lips quirked when you allowed him to tug you further into him, until you were nestled fully within the heated framework of his thighs. 

“What you said earlier at dinner,” he murmured. “You made me wait a long time to hear you admit that.”

“Admit what exactly?”

“That we’re something special, you and I.”

Childe latched onto your wrist, massaging gentle circles into your knuckles. When you wobbled on your feet, he twisted your palm upward to press a lingering kiss to the center of it and you shuddered, lips parting slightly. A pleased, catlike smile toyed at the corner of his mouth.

“Are we together, traveler, like you said?”

With one hand, you gripped the base of his chin between forefinger and thumb, the latter sweeping upward to explore the outline of his lips before tracing slowly up the curve of his jawline in thought. He hummed at your touch, the sound low and drawn out, sending a shock of heat between your legs. Your face burned and you opened your mouth. Shut it. Opened it again.

“I didn’t mean to say that earlier-”

In one swift movement, Childe’s grip had tightened on your wrist and he’d yanked you toward him, using the momentum to whirl you onto the middle of the bed with a cry of surprise. Intent on giving him an angry earful, you shoved yourself up, propped on your palms. But the words swelled and stuck in your throat at the roguish gleam in his eyes, the bed dipping as he crawled toward you.

Without any thought, your legs fell apart to allow him through.

“I’m going to have to disagree with you,” he said, advancing still, forcing you to retreat backward, flatten yourself until all you knew was his pretty face hovering above yours, his weight settling between your legs. “You never say things you don’t mean.”

Your heart clattered, chest rising with shallow breaths that drew his gaze downward. 

“Maybe. But sometimes I do say things before I’ve thought them all the way through.”

“Mm, you’re not so wrong about that.” He lowered onto his elbows until the tip of his nose nearly brushed yours. 

“I guess I just didn’t think before I said it,” you stammered. “Your brother seemed so confident and I didn’t…” You squeezed your eyes shut. “I didn’t know if you wanted that.”

Your skin burned white hot at the admission. Did he know just how vulnerable you were allowing yourself to be right now? The terror that lit through your chest when you thought about him not feeling the same way?

Childe grinned. “It’s a shame you’re blind as well as loose-tongued. Well, it would be pretty awkward to take it back now, yes? So I guess you’re stuck with me in the meantime.”

You laughed, the ball of tension easing in your chest. 

“I think your family likes me alright,” you said quietly and he laughed at the change of subject.

“They do. A little too much, I��m afraid. We’ll have to make sure Teucer doesn’t smuggle himself along in your bags.”

You looked up at him, a long felt but never before addressed emotion swelling almost painfully in your chest. “You’re rare, you know,” you blurted. “I’ve never- I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Childe’s eyes softened. “I can hardly believe you’re real sometimes.”

Foregoing further words, you spread your legs all the way, inviting him to nestle more fully into the crux of your thighs. His breath stuttered across your lips at the hard press of his erection against your front. You bit your bottom lip, holding in a smirk. “I’m plenty real when I beat you in every fight–”

Matching your energy immediately, two large hands cupped your face, thumbs bracing beneath your chin to gently lever your mouth shut. “Shhh,” he murmured, slowly bending down to press a kiss to each corner of your mouth. “We can get to the bottom of that another time. But for now just… behave.”

A tiny whine from you was all it took for him to finally press his lips against yours.

The room dimmed and sharpened all at once. The muscles on his arms and back turned boneless beneath your fingers as he sighed into your mouth, as if your lips working back against his were a long-awaited antidote. It was slow, sweet. His thumbs traced gentle half moons under your eyes and his tongue dipped in tentatively before he grew bolder, gaining ground when you parted your lips in response to a well-timed drag of his hips.

A hand smoothed down your hair, coming to cradle the back of your head, pulling you in like he could inhale you completely, until it was bruising and raw and exhilarating; a different kind of battle entirely.

Your fingers worked clumsily at the buttons of his shirt from the top down, ghosting over the raised skin of old scars as you went. His breath hitched beneath your touch, the skin of his abdomen tightening and jumping as you teased beneath the hem of his pants before working unsuccessfully at his belt buckle.

“Stupid Sneznhayan bullshit…” you hissed against his mouth.

The hand in your hair tightened and you let out a humiliating noise, abandoning his belt and finding purchase in his shirt, using it to lever your hips up into his. Grinding to relieve some of the ache pulsing between your thighs. An amused laugh puffed against your cheek at your frustration and his head dropped to murmur against your ear.

“I do love your determination. It’s one of my favorite things about you. But it would be a shame to rush through this first part, don’t you think?”

His hand cupped the opposite side of your face so he could plant a firm, lingering kiss to your temple while the other now ran up and down your side.

“Be patient with me?”

“Sure thing,” you said hoarsely right before his thumb found and circled the pert bud of your nipple through your shirt. You shuddered violently against him, legs wrapping his hips mindlessly, yanking him in. “Actually no. No, no, no.”

Childe laughed but the noise was tattered around the edges.

“Always figured you’d be greedy in bed.”

“Archons, y-you’re so annoying sometimes.”

He nipped your bottom lip, sharp and punishing, drawing back to look at your disoriented expression. 

“I want you to do something for me,” he said, raising his shoulder further so he could wedge the wandering hand in between you. 

“Wha-?” you squeaked, hips dipping into the bed to assist. 

“Will you tell me about the day we met?” 

The request was unexpected. Kind of wholesome if it weren’t paired with the slide of his palm between your thighs, cupping gently along the curve of your pussy through the fabric of your pants. Oh gods. You shuddered, eyes fluttering shut. It felt so deliriously good, just being held by him like this. With the heat of his palm unmoving and his bare skin just two layers away from yours.

“You don’t remember?” you croaked. He drew just his middle finger firmly up the seam and back down, catching your clit, your spine arching upward like you’d been hit by an electro burst. 

“Of course I remember,” he said, brows furrowing at you as if the question was offensive. “But we’ve all got our versions to tell. Let me hear yours.”

“I was–” 

You paused nervously as Childe’s lazy grin turned almost smug. He worked with only one hand at your belt, his eyes attentively on yours as he showed you up, unclasping and tugging until the two ends separated. He undid the button beneath with a deft thumb and forefinger. Without being asked, your hips raised, wriggling as he sat back on his heels to slowly tug your pants and underwear off.

You thanked your past self for lighting the fireplace as the open air hit the glistening wetness of your spread cunt. Childe’s gaze roved unabashedly, his fingers at his own waist now, undoing the clasp of his belt but going no further. His eyes flicked back up to yours with a devout intensity before he shrugged out of his shirt.

“Go on, traveler. You were saying?” 

Emboldened by the bulge pressing hard and insistent at the front of his pants, you pushed yourself up to your knees, scooching forward until your thighs bracketed his own, gifting him with the sight of the spread of you. His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip as he glanced down. No longer in a rush, you trailed your hands across his chest. Explored the soft planes of his abdomen, running along curves of smooth, defined muscle. Rising to thumb over his nipples, testing him, studying his reactions. Seeing what he liked. 

“I uh–” you cleared your throat “-was running from the Millelith.”

“Interesting but I already know that. Tell me what you were feeling,” he said, tossing your shirt carelessly over the side of the bed, moving on to your bra. “Hmm, better yet, tell me how relieved you were to see me.”

“Ah ok. So you need your ego stroked.”

“For starters.” His lips curled suggestively. Previously dragging light patterns across his skin, your nails clawed in hard and you were rewarded with the slight drop of his jaw and the low rumble of an appreciative groan.

Being completely exposed before Childe was nothing like you’d imagined. There was no self-consciousness, no reservations at all as his hands explored and cupped. Because you already knew each other, you realized, had already done this intimate dance; each dip, each curve memorized and stored from all those battles at the Golden House. The only thing left was to see. 

“I think I was too full of adrenaline to be nervous,” you began. “But I guess I was backed into a bit of a corner when you found me.” You leaned forward with a small smile, palm cupping between his legs in the same tormenting fashion his had, sliding along the outline of his cock. Childe’s hips jerked. A soft moan tickled the hairs at the crown of your head, his chin coming to rest briefly atop as if looking at the motion of your fingers would be far too much. 

“I was relieved to see you, sure,” you continued, thumb teasing at the ridge. “Could’ve handled it on my own, though.”

You felt his throat rumble out a warm laugh as you worked his pants open. “You could have, I’m sure.”

“I think I liked you right away,” you continued. “Before anything I admired your prowess. But I suppose I found you… cute,” you said, recycling the same word he’d used to describe you. You pulled him out before he could say anything cheeky in response. Wrapped him with your warm palm and gave an experimental stroke, grinning when he went completely stiff, a hushed curse following.

“Did you ever think about me like this?” The words spilled from Childe’s lips and he pulled back to look down at you, breathless, jaw working as he relished your slow strokes for a moment. “Back before you knew who I really was?”

“Yeah,” you answered honestly. You waited for the pang of resentment that used to come at the thought of his previous betrayal. But there was nothing, the idea so far removed from who the both of you were now that there was no harm in expounding. “Even after I knew, too. I… touched myself a lot. The thoughts were just angrier.”

“Yeah. Yeah I bet.”

Some strangled noise that seemed like it had been stuck at the back of his throat was released when your thumb swiped over his leaking tip. Cupping your face with a sudden urgency, he yanked you into a fierce kiss. But he pulled back as soon as it started, smile lazy and pleased at your dazed expression.

“My turn, yeah?” Childe’s head cocked. “I saw you first at the gates of Liyue when you arrived. I had to see the golden hero of Mondstadt with my own eyes, after all. And what a sight you were,” he purred. The fast, downward trajectory of his hand had you pulling in a breath and holding it in anticipation. “So pretty in that little dress. I thought about taking you for all you were worth right then and there. I think you would’ve come around to it. Am I right, traveler? If I’d have approached you then, would you have let me do this to you?”

You expected him to tease, hold out on you, so when his middle finger slid directly through your folds to dip lightly into the mess of your center, you nearly combusted, letting out a hoarse cry. Tried to pull away but his other hand curved the back of your neck, tugging you into his shoulder.

Childe turned to lay a gentle kiss on your cheek, fluttering his finger at your entrance just lightly enough to make a vulgar, wet noise. 

“Well? Would you have?” 

You shuddered. Nodded mindlessly and he purred in satisfaction at the easy give of two fingers, sliding into your cunt to the knuckle, hooking and hitting a spot inside you that had starlight bursting behind your eyelids. But still you fought through, pumping him, the movements jerky and pathetic now.

“But it was the day we really met, traveler. That day at the Golden House when I saw you for what you really were. That wild look in your eyes when you wanted to kill me so badly. I’ll never forget it. That’s when I knew for certain that no matter the outcome, I had to have you.”

“Childe–” you whined, hardly remembering to stroke him still.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, “just hold onto me.”

And so you did, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him pump his fingers into you, slow and torturous until you burned white hot and senseless. Hardly aware even of your back delicately pressing into the mattress again, the new position allowing him more depth, each curl accompanied by a tiny whimper. You felt the quiet flutter of climax already brushing like a flurry of feathers across your skin. It was like nothing you’d experienced, being tucked into Childe’s neck like this, one of his hands still caressing your hair so sweetly while the other stretched you open.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” his faraway voice murmured, coaxing you to relax beneath him but you couldn’t while his lips brushed your cheek. While his fingers pumped, while the smell of him filled your senses.

You loved him. You loved him.

Everything swelled at once; emotion and that twisting pleasure in your belly rising sharply until your body went rigid, nails digging helplessly into his shoulders as you grasped for a tether to reality. A torn keen loosened from the depths of your chest as he worked you through with murmured, rhythmic praises. You spasmed against him, clinging like the illusion of him could disappear at any moment, leaving you nothing but a shuddering mess. You fell back onto the bed panting.

A press against the corner of your mouth and your eyes fluttered open. The sensitive slide of his fingers out of your pussy had your lips parting just enough that he could slide his tongue softly through. You lay there motionless for a time, blinking the pleasure from your eyes, Childe just massaging his tongue against yours, eyes closed, dipping in and out of you slowly.

His cock laid heavy and hot on your hip, leaking hot precum across your skin. Groaning, you finally reciprocated his kiss, your fervor met with a long purr of contentment from above. Your nails dug grooves into his bare hips, dragging him against you, imploring him without words.

Childe inhaled a sharp breath and pulled back to look at your face, eyes glazed slightly.

“You alright?” was all he said, voice in such shreds it had you laughing, cupping his face in your hands.

“Yeah, you idiot.”

The side of his nose brushed yours, a wry grin curling his lips. “Kind of impolite for a girl who was just cumming all over my fingers.” He pressed a single, firm kiss against your mouth before reaching between you to position his cock, wetting it with a drag through your slit before pressing in just slightly.

Childe’s blue eyes flickered between yours.

“I love you, too, by the way.”

Your eyes widened but any further reaction on your part was taken up by the delicious, burning stretch as he slowly pushed into you with a drawn out groan, not stopping until he’d bottomed out inside you, the only sound punctuating the room for several seconds the sound of steadying breaths.

You could already feel yourself making room for him, fitting yourself around him. 

“Keep moving or I’ll die.”

His laugh was strained and he seemed oddly hesitant still, like he wasn’t quite ready to stop looking at you. You smiled softly and he let out a content sigh, his head falling to your shoulder. His cock inched out of you, pushing back in at the same dragging pace. And he began to fuck you deep, rocking into you slow.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured into your ear.

He loved you. Childe loved you.

Everything was perfect. He was perfect. The way he sucked gentle bruises into your skin. The way his hips rolled so steadily and how he was ruining you slow, hitting all the right spots inside you that had you gasping for breath, softly whimpering with each thrust. 

You were warriors, yes. It was your baser instincts. But the pace that he set made clear that the quick step, fierce clashing of swords was momentarily being tossed aside in favor of slow hands. You panted as you took him again and again, your sweat mixing, brushing that damp lock of ginger hair to the side so you could fall into the blue of his eyes.

“I have another confession,” Childe murmured against your neck. “And I feel terrible about this one. So don’t bark at me.”

“Is now really the time for confession?”

Childe turned you over, his hands falling immediately to steady your hips, guide them into the same rolling tempo on top of him.

“Good as any, I think.”

He pinched the skin of your thigh when you didn’t respond, too blissed out and focused on the second rising tide swirling low in your belly.

“F-fine.”

“I told them myself that we were dating.”

“Wh-hat?” you choked out as his thumb found your clit, rolling in tight circles. He groaned at your hard clench around him. Archons, you were right on the precipice.

“I told my family in my letters,” he panted. “Told everyone I could that we were together a long time ago, traveler. That I’d found myself a pretty little adventurer in Liyue that I intended to make mine. Don’t you think that was presumptuous of me?”

“Ch-Childe–”

You didn’t know how to process the information, let alone respond. Your head spun, everything tightening inside, but terribly slow. With a plea on your lips, your hands flew up to play with your nipples, desperate for something to send you over that edge. You heard Childe curse under his breath quietly, hands digging into the flesh of your hip bones as he seemed to steady himself.

“Childe.”

“So really, I knew before you did,” he said, sounding like a fraying rope. “The whole world knew you were mine before you did. But I knew you’d come around. Knew it as surely as I know the Sneznhayan sky. Knew it as surely as I know you.”

Childe drew one arm around your back, the other up your spine until his hand found the back of your neck, pulling you forward to press his mouth to yours before his lips slid forward and found your ear.

“And I do know you.” 

Suddenly, you were locked against him, his hips snapping into yours with a fervor. You gasped because there it was, that pounding friction that had you nearly sobbing into his neck, clawing at the bed as you were sped toward that edge and soared right over it.

The arms holding you so tightly left no space to roll and flex your body naturally through your release. It was a debilitating ecstasy, destructive and wet, all centered at one nexus point between your legs, so powerful it had you drenching his cock as he stuffed you again and again. Before you’d even remembered to breathe, Childe was swallowing your anguished whine, shifting your body upward so he could chase his own release.

“Say it again,” he gasped against your lips. “Please.”

Somehow, you knew. “Love you,” you breathed, completely dazed.

“Again, again, again.” He pounded into you desperately and you felt the telltale tightening of his abdomen, the beginning stutter of his hips.

You grabbed his face and poured every ounce of yourself into it. “I love you, Childe.”

A choked laugh turned into a groan as he slammed himself deep, emptying inside your still convulsing cunt, showering you with so many breathless praises that they all slur together like a desperate prayer. His face tipped back so beautifully, twisting in ecstasy before he went boneless, the only sound in the room your labored breathing.

You waited until your heartbeat slowed to shift atop him, rolling until you were tucked into his side instead. Your eyelids felt like a weighted blanket but you were too lost in thought to drift off now, fingers tracing lazy patterns into his skin.

Minutes and minutes passed. You fiddled with the flower in your hair.

“So everyone knew we were together except me?” you asked, more sheepish than intended, cheek moving against the hard planes of his bare abdomen so you could peer up at him. Childe burst into laughter and you found yourself pressing closer to absorb the sound.

“You really are blind. Every opportunity I had to show you my true feelings, I took. Even that floating bag of flour had her suspicions.” You smacked his chest hard but he continued with a chuckle. “Always looking over your shoulder like she could kill me on the spot. If she could see us now.”

With practiced quickness, you straddled his hips, palms propping on either side of his head. “That’s enough.”

Naturally, his fingers found your sides, dragging up and down, eyes full of a shining devotion. 

“You’re beautiful.”

“You’re just saying that to get your cock touched again.”

Childe smiled dangerously. “Dirty words from such a pretty mouth. Careful, or we’ll end up making a battlefield of Sneznhaya yet.”

You grinned down at him for a long, giddy moment. “I could be tempted.”

[excalibur-gone-missing]

Paring: Dino x fem!reader

Requested: no

Genre: angst, fluff

Warning(s): cheating, angst, sadness, mentions of pregnancy (do inform me if there's more)

Summary: You were the light guiding Chan for the most of his life. now that you are not there anymore, he cant help but feel your absence as he reminisces his past and all those times you were there to ground him no matter what.

Word count: 6k

Other works

disclaimer: this is not the exact representation of the subjects in real life. I just use them for my inspiration.

special thanks to @spamgyu for helping me out 😭

a/n: I would greatly appreciate it if all of you could take a moment to comment on this fic. As an author, I find great value in your feedback, as it allows me to better comprehend my readers, and I thoroughly enjoy interacting with all of you. Constructive criticism is always welcome, so don't hesitate to talk about this fic or send me an ask.

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Chan's life was determined before he had a chance to consider it. His family wasn't well-off. They struggled from early on to get food on their plates. He knew from when he was a child that he had to support his siblings because his parents refused to do so.

So that’s exactly what he did. He got into SNU with a full scholarship, secured a good job, and built a stable life with six figures coming in annually to his bank account, providing enough money to support his siblings’ dreams.

But what did it all get him?

Nothing!

He sacrificed his teens and his twenties because his father felt the need to be a raging alcoholic, and now he stands in the middle of Gangnam in his beautiful flat with its polished floors. But he lacks the most important thing in life: happiness.

To be truthful, he lacks a lot of things, but happiness takes the cake. If someone asks him, he lacks friends too. But our dearest Boo Seungkwan would like to disagree about that. In Chan’s defense, friends are absolutely not equal to friend (just a difference of ‘s’, as our dear ‘Kwanie’ said. Plus, his multiple personalities make up for the said lack of ’s’, which further raises the question as to why the man does not go for a checkup, as it seems he has self-diagnosed DID. We shall never know).

Chan is happy about his brothers doing what they like, though. It’s not that hard to not be happy when he literally raised them. Sacrifices need to be made, he has realized; some just make more than others, and there is nothing one can do about that. He accepts that he is indeed grateful for the friend he has made, the one who has stayed with him and accepted him as he is.

Now, it may sound sappy, and Chan swears he will never tell this to Seungkwan, but he has indeed helped him through the thick and thin of life. All those late-night drinking sessions and ugly crying have brought him to this stage in life where he thinks of the boy as more of a family than anyone else. He helped him when Chan’s life was falling apart, and he also was there to scold him back to the right track when no one believed in him, not even himself.

Although he lacks happiness, he is fine with that (he at least has Boo Seungkwan). He can live with being sad; he already has!

This is where you came in, the reason for Chan’s genuine smiles, from back in college to five years ago. It was a pretty serious relationship that you both had. Chan loved you. He had plans of making you his wife. For God’s sake, he was in a relationship with you for almost ten years! But somewhere along the way, he messed up. He became the exact thing he had hated all his life.

He became a person like his father.

You, being the nice kind, tried your best to stop him from spiraling down the rabbit hole of bad habits. But alas, it takes two to tango, and if he didn’t want to be better, no one, not even God himself, could do it for him.

It took losing you to realize how messed up his life had become.

--

“Chan, I’m heading out. Dinner’s in the fridge—please actually eat it this time. We don’t need two meal skippers in this household,” you quipped, watching as Chan chuckled and gave you a quick giggle inducing peck before returned his attention to the document he’d been typing for the past hour.

“Sure thing, Your Majesty. Your command shall be dutifully followed!” he exclaimed with a mock salute, drawing out another laugh from you. With a playful ruffle of his hair and another peck on his cheek, you left the apartment to begin your night shift at the hospital.

Chan, unlike you, has just started his new job after completing his MBA. It’s been tough, but he’s persevered, and soon enough, you both will be able to enjoy the luxuries he could only dream of growing up.

Your fifth anniversary is approaching faster than ever, and now Chan finally has the means to fulfill your dream of a trip to Europe. The pressure of this new job is more than the last one, but getting those tickets would be a walk in the park now.

Quickly finishing his document and mailing it to the head of the department, he immediately goes to check those flight ticket prices and hotel prices. He releases a happy sigh the minute he realizes that it’s exactly what he had expected the prices to be. So, without wasting a single moment, he buys those tickets. He knew this gift would make you happier than ever.

The next month, you had been notified about the expensive purchase only because you had to get a leave from your job, and you obviously can’t disappear for two weeks unannounced. He, in reality, had no plans to inform you about anything, but he couldn’t interfere with your job either.

But at the end it was worth it, the look on your face the minute you were informed about the trip. Oh, if only Chan could frame it and keep it away from the world, only if he could keep you near him and never let you go. But he didn’t think of that then. No, he was happy he had told you earlier.

The happiness radiating off you as you kept going on and on about the clothes you needed to buy, all the foods you were going to try once there. It was what helped him keep going throughout the day, even though the work became tiring with every passing minute.

If only he could have stopped time and lived in that moment forever.

—

One thing he never realized is how demanding his job would be once he got into a higher position. The calls kept him up at night; they came at the most ungodly of times, and Chan was expected to pick them up, because he always did.

You never complained; it was fine by you. If anyone understood him, it was you. Both of you had highly demanding jobs, and nothing could beat the expectations your colleagues had on you both.

But what he had not counted on was those calls interrupting your trip. During the entirety of your anniversary, he was glued to that phone of his, never once able to leave it. It was one problem at the office or the other.

Again, you kept your mouth shut, enjoying your own company as your boyfriend busied himself with work in the hotel room.

That was the last trip you both had gone on. You figured that it was too much to ask from someone who had so much work to do. But still, you understood his hunger to do better in life. You understood that someone had to compromise in the relationship and wholeheartedly accepted that it had to be you.

Coming to think of it, it was not supposed to be like this. Never! Both of you were supposed to communicate and figure out what your relationship was supposed to mean. But somewhere along the line, it just became regular sex and nothing else. When you talked about this with your friends, all of them had the same reaction.

‘Leave him!’ they had told you, ‘he wouldn’t change, he prefers his job more than you.’

It was a regular thing now. But you were scared. All the years you had invested in the relationship, you never wanted it to become what it had. You had held out hope that one day Chan would notice you. He would realize he had a girlfriend who also needs his attention as much as his job.

It didn’t take too long for those dreams to come true, though.

—

One night, you sat down with the man, asking him about the changes in his life. You begged him to look your way beyond the times he made love to you. It was an intense conversation, filled with words that neither of you actually meant, but hurt you both equally.

That night brought you both another few years, or that’s what you think. It became better, both your lives and the relationship. You both would talk more, spend time with each other, laugh with each other, and go about your days with lovesick smiles on your faces. Although none of your jobs became less hectic, it still was as painstaking as ever, but the scenery in your shared home was peaceful. It was both of your comfort zones.

What neither of you realized, this peace that you both had brought back into your lives, was fickle. In order to keep it like that, both of you had to put in some effort.

—

It slowly became visible to both of you how much more effort this relation of yours needed. Both of you saw the way your paradise was crumbling down bit by bit. Nights became lonely for you. Chan, being the perfectionist he is, would be stuck up in his office until the rays of sun hit the glass windows, reminding him of the fact that he indeed had stayed the night in his office. The hectic job took everything away from him. It stripped him of his identity, and slowly it was also stripping his happiness and sanity away. It was like the darker times had hit both of you again.

It was then that he suddenly passed out on the streets due to extreme fatigue and was brought immediately into the nearest hospital, which was the one you worked at. Lo and behold, you were the nurse on emergency room duty that day. This was the first time you saw the love of your life in that state; you saw what this new job had done to him. How it had taken this happy and healthy person you knew and turned him into this sick, unhappy, and overworked person. Your helplessness mocked you in your face. At night, you stayed by his side after the doctors had given their verdict about him being too overworked. You took care of him like never before, making sure to make him take an ample amount of rest.

Sadly, the industry is ruthless. As soon as the employers became aware that their once highly valuable employee’s usefulness had diminished, they ultimately opted to terminate him. Although Chan claims there were some more internal politics involved in this sacking, there was no way he could have evaded it.

Both of you soon realized it was the best thing that could have happened to him. While being the worst experience he could ever go through in his corporate career.

You stayed by his side through every hurdle though. You never once let him feel the need to be more than what he already was. But life was giving both of you a hard time.

It took Chan another month to get a new job. But only this time, it was a better, more important position in a better company. This is when life took off for both of you again. With Chan back on track, equipped with the newfound knowledge of not working more than necessary, he was on a roll. Almost unstoppable.

This change also affected your relationship, but positively this time. Chan and you would go on constant dates and enjoy each other’s company way more than ever.

—

It was nearing your seventh anniversary. Both of you had talked about getting married and starting a family enough times for him to know this was the perfect time for him to propose.

So, on the day of your seventh anniversary, he had planned to take you to this fancy Italian place. He claimed that you deserved only the best. No one could ever argue with him about that. You, along with Seungkwan, had been by his side for so long that he had forgotten the time when he didn’t have you both. Nothing, absolutely nothing, would change that fact. With that it brought him to the most important question of that year.

“But what ring do I buy her?” the stressed boy asked his best friend.

“Wow, I wasn’t informed about the fact that y/n suddenly had become my girlfriend!” Seungkwan exclaimed sassily.

“Dude, you can calm down. She is still my girl, ain’t no way you are getting her. Find a girl of your own,” the shorter boy retorted back.

Why am I being asked about her preference for a ring then, huh?”

“Because she said, and I quote, ‘if you buy me an expensive engagement ring that I can’t even wear out because it looks too expensive, I will castrate you’,” Chan said seriously, bringing out a seal-like laugh from the back of Seungkwan’s throat.

“Do something meaningful for her then, you dumb fuck,” making Chan almost cringe at the scolding. Without letting the boy talk, his best friend continued, “Put in some effort and do something that shows you care, without having to spend a copious amount of money. I have no idea what you should do, but bro, if it were up to me, a girl would for sure get a ring no matter what!”

Now, this made him think. It made him think hard. But even after all that thinking, he couldn’t come up with a good idea for an alternative for an engagement ring.

It was not until the next Saturday when he was sitting on the couch waiting for you to choose a movie for the weekly movie night, did he stumble upon the perfect idea for a ring? Like any usual person, the man was scrolling through TikTok when he found out that one could make rings out of clay.

Perfect!

If you didn’t want a diamond ring, you shall get a clay ring. For you might catch the sun lacking one day, but not Chan, never Chan!

—

This kick-started the learner phase of Chan’s life once again. He would visit the pottery classes every week because he needed to excel at the art to mold the perfect ring. One suitable for daily wear and also because this hobby brought him more peace than ever.

He made some friends here; they were fun to hang out with. You had met all these new people flooding into his life. He would parade about the with his hand on you showing you off proudly.

“Who wouldn’t?” he would ask whenever someone pointed it out. This question had the power to make him start ranting about you at any given point. So much so that after a point, people stopped asking him about you, no matter the context.

Because, oh boy, was he in love.

--

It took him one year and some friendships to finally complete learning everything there was to learn about pottery. In the course of that time, he had littered your shared house with his creations.

Oh, you wanted to buy a new bowl because you saw it on Instagram? No fear, Chan shall make it this instant. Oops, your favorite coffee mug broke? Chan has come to your rescue with a better, scientifically cute, usable, and overall better mug for you.

The creative spark of the boy never dimmed down, nor did his extroverted nature. Every other day, he would be out with his new friends, so much so that even Boo Seungkwan noticed. You both had chats with each other about the changes in Chan’s life over a cup of tea whenever Seungkwan would come over.

To say that you both were happy about him enjoying life would be an understatement. You had seen the pain the man had gone through in his life. It only made sense for him to have the best of the best experiences when he had the opportunities.

But again, as people say, one should do everything in moderation. It seems that Chan could do nothing in moderation. He would work himself half to death. In this case too, he started drinking and partying himself half to death. The outings that were done to unwind after a long hard day became parties that were making the day even longer.

The friends that helped him overcome the pressuring environment of his office became the ones who would pressure him to go way out of his comfort zone, all for the wrong reasons. People say twenties are times when people experiment with their life and gain new experiences.

The same was applicable for Chan too, the only difference being he was learning different ways of spiraling down holes that are hard to climb up from. The hilarious part being, these were the holes that he had carefully dug out himself.

It’s not like you never stopped him, because you did. The minute you realized these new friends were pushing Chan’s limits in the wrong way, you didn’t waste a second to tell him.

“I think you should calm down with this partying and stuff. It’s unbelievably bad for your health,” you had told him one night when he had come home drunk out of his wits.

“I know how to have fun, not my fault you don’t!”

The boy had shouted at you before collapsing on the couch. Realizing it was a waste of time to even try and talk to him in this state, you tried again the next day when he was far more sober.

“Do you remember what happened yesterday?” you ask Chan, to which he shakes his still-hungover head and winces. Sighing, you continue, “Chan, you can’t let them get to you like this. Moderation is the key here. Please don’t overdo anything, I beg you!” You hugged him, trying to coax him to understand where you were coming from. He obviously hugged you back and promised you to keep your advice in mind the next time they asked him out.

He didn’t. He swears he tried to. But the peer pressure got to him. Before he could even back off, they had already hauled his ass to the bar. He never wanted to disappoint you. So he chose to accept the most coherent plan his drunk mind could formulate: the plan to lie to you.

—

Your seventh anniversary had come and gone a year ago. The only gifts he could provide you that day were a fancy dinner and a solid promise that he would indeed get you the greatest ring you will have ever seen in your whole life. Now the time had come. The time to prove his skills. Those skills he spent an entire year honing.

During this cute date at home, he produced a small wooden box from his pocket. After you had enjoyed the homemade meal he had whipped up for you and you both were cuddling on the balcony, he proposed to you with stars in his eyes and hope in his heart.

He shocked you with the ring. Like your relationship, it was delicate, yet made with lots of love and care. You obviously said yes without hesitation. After all, you loved this man, and he loved you too. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could ever go wrong if he was with you.

--

It seems that no matter how hard you try, life always seems to have other plans for you.

The month right after you accepted his proposal, you received an invitation for a two-year-long workshop in Germany. Such opportunities don’t come every day, so you were elated.

Without wasting any time, you called Chan, informing him about the opportunity you had received. But like every coin, this great opportunity had its drawbacks too.

With the prospect of studying and learning under some of the greatest doctors and nurses came the hardship of leaving your fiancé behind. Chan didn’t like this one bit. He could barely stand to be away from you for a second, let alone two years.

But seeing the excitement on your face and hearing the joy in your voice, he couldn’t bring himself to ask you to stay back. He knew you had sacrificed a lot for him, compromised at times when you could have been happy if he hadn’t made decisions that ruined his life.

--

So he put on a happy smile and told you that if you didn’t take this opportunity, he would pack your bags himself and kick you out of the house. This assurance gave you the confidence you needed. Without wasting any time, you sent an email accepting the proposition to join the workshop.

The next five months passed in a whim. During this time, he had asked you to marry him before you went away, but with a peaceful and determined smile, you had told him, “I will marry you once I come back, like that, we won’t have to spend too much time as newlyweds. Plus, I will be smarter than you too.”

“You are always smarter than me. I can never surpass you,” was the answer you had received, along with a sweet kiss, making your heart swell like a balloon.

Life was starting to feel better again.

Chan had finally made his boundaries very clear. The boy felt extremely guilty for lying to you, though he never confessed to you about doing so. He made sure his actions proved his redemption. He ensured to let these new friends of his know that going out too much with them was affecting him in ways that he didn’t appreciate. Although they did sometimes win against him and force him to go out, it was not as bad as it was before.

—

Soon the day came when you had to fly away to Germany. To say that Chan was sad would be an understatement. He was devastated when he saw you off at the airport with Seungkwan. He had cried the whole way home, making Seungkwan scold him as if he were a baby.

“Now if you keep behaving like this, do you think she would be happy?” the older boy questioned him.

“No, but I miss her already,” Chan replied in a whisper while wiping his tears harshly.

“Be nice, be happy for her. You can talk to her all the time. It’s not the Stone Age,” Seungkwan said with an exasperated sigh, making the younger one stop his sad boy antics at once.

But it was not like Chan was okay. He started working overtime at the office, desperately waiting for you to call him when you got free. And call you did, religiously at six o’clock in the evening.

You both made the decision to talk at that time, regardless of any circumstances. This went on for six months. He tried his best to follow the routine of overworking himself before you would call and save him from killing himself with work.

But with all these works, his willpower also started to crumble down. The old ways came back to him. Before he realized it, he became a party animal. He made new friends at these clubs and bars he started frequenting. He thought you wouldn’t pick up. But you did. You saw how your boyfriend was slowly changing. It was not that obvious at first, but slowly you realized he was getting drowned with work.

Being the lovely girlfriend you were, you asked Seungkwan to take care of him. The boy tried his best to do so. But alas, he was not that successful.

It seemed to both of you that Chan had spiraled back into his overworking session. What you both were unaware of was that it was more than that.

Chan was not just overworking; he was over-drinking and over partying too.

—

One faithful night; he met Eva, his pottery class instructor. She was pretty. They talked the whole night, catching up like old buddies and having fun.

She brought a change to his life again. She started being there for him during times when he would lose himself. She was a great friend, so great that in no time you had the chance to meet her.

You had come back for a week’s vacation. Seungkwan thought it was important for all the friends to meet up because it had been a long time since he had seen you. This meeting was supposed to consist of only you, Chan, and Seungkwan. But Chan asked to bring in another friend he would like you to meet. It was Eva.

You liked her; she was nice. You wanted to be friends with her. Her sweet personality was something no one could resist, a great example of a sweetheart through and through.

For once, you were actually proud of your boyfriend’s choices in life. Your visit was over even before it had started. Suddenly, the week was over, and you were packing your bags to return to Germany.

This time, Chan was not as scared of things going downhill anymore. He knew that within a few more months, you would come back, and he could happily start the wedding preparations. He also knew he had a solid group of friends to have his back. Most importantly, he had learned the art of living without you. Not that it was happy, but now he could enjoy spending time by himself.

—

Time flew faster than ever. In no time, it was Chan’s birthday. Your program would finish that same month, so sadly you couldn’t visit him. All you could do was video call him that morning and congratulate him for hitting thirty before you, to which he grumpily replied, “Your birthday is in six months; I’m gonna make it hell for you.”

“Whatever, old man, get dressed. Don’t you have a job to go to?” You laughed at his grumpy face while teasing him even more.

“I miss you,” Chan suddenly called out, pouting.

“You will meet me next month, Channie. Don’t be this sad now.” Although that did make him happy, the thought of spending yet another birthday without you was saddening. But it’s not like it was going to last. You would be back in no time.

That thought put a smile on his face. Soon enough, he was skipping around the house cooking breakfast and answering numerous calls from his friends and family for being a thirty-year-old now.

Seungkwan and Eva had also planned a not-so-surprise party for him. It consisted of meeting in front of his office and dragging his ass to the bar to drink and have fun. Although the day was spent slaving away in front of the computer, that night he had a lot of fun. He talked to Seungkwan and Eva for hours, and the three of them were pretty intoxicated when they left.

The only thing he remembered from that night was the fact that Eva, being the one out of the three with the most alcohol tolerance, was the one who had made sure that all of them returned home safely.

There was just one slight problem. Eva started to avoid him. Now, in any other situation, he would not have noticed it, but the text the next morning asking him if he remembered anything from the night before had him confused. When he asked her what it was all about, she refused to answer him, opting to ignore him instead.

He had no recollection of the night before, and Seungkwan didn’t either, so it was a mystery to both of them. But then again, his gut told him the problem was bigger than what he thought it was and might come to haunt him if not solved now.

So he did the most sane thing he could think of: He asked her to talk to him about it. He knew the wedding preparations would start the minute you came back, so he wanted to make sure to fix any problem that might affect you both before it blasted out of proportion.

—

“You kissed me,” was the first thing Eva told him after sitting down, making Chan’s heart drop to his stomach.

“Huh, but I don’t remember anything,” Chan retorted.

“It’s not about you remembering or not, it really happened, Chan, and I hate it,” she said, her voice almost breaking.

“Hey, calm down. We were both intoxicated, and we didn’t do it on purpose. Any other time and we wouldn’t have done it,” this seemed to have little to no effect on improving the girl’s mood.

On the other hand, Chan’s blood pressure was rising. The last thing he needed was a big mistake from which he could never turn back. With you coming back from Germany in less than a week, he needed everything in his life to be sorted out, especially something that could jeopardize a relationship with so much love in it.

“Chan, I think I like you. I’m not sure when it happened, or how it did. But I like you. So please don’t tell me I wouldn’t have done it if we weren’t intoxicated.”

The impact of this statement was so immense that it completely shattered his world, leaving him in disarray. It was true that he liked Eva. What kind of feelings he actually held for her was a mystery to him.

So, in the spur of the moment, he kissed her.

Just a few minutes ago, it was bothering him, but once he took the step, he didn’t feel what he was supposed to. He didn’t feel the disgust and hatred towards himself he should have. It felt like sneaking out of his house when he was not supposed to. It made a rush of excitement run through his body. He could feel the adrenaline rush through him.

He felt alive. maybe it was the feeling of doing something forbidden or it was something else, he didn’t know.

But, that night, they did more than kissing.

—

Once you were back, it was all sunshine and rainbows in the first few weeks. You both were happy, spending all your time together and having fun relishing in each other’s presence.

But it didn’t take you long to notice the changes. He would be stuck late at the office but come back home surprisingly lively, or those random texts from his brother late at night asking him to come over, or even the most obvious of them all, the vibrant smell of floral perfume that you never wear.

But you held out. You had promised to give him a chance to explain himself if he came clean to you. But that day never came. You asked him about these odd behaviors, but somehow he would always evade the topic altogether.

All those questions of ‘where were you last night’, ‘when will you come home’, or ‘shall we go on a date sometime soon’, all went unanswered.

He outright ignored your presence at home. But this didn’t stop the wedding preparations. Because his siblings and your parents alike loved him, they had taken the responsibility to take care of the wedding plans.

Before he could continue with his little escapades, Seungkwan caught and confronted him. Not by you but by Seungkwan. The older boy’s disappointment was beyond words. He screamed at him for an hour straight and then he had sat Chan down and calmly said,

“Either you tell her or I will.”

“But I can’t; she will leave me if I ever tell her.”

“Then she will be right in doing so.”

“Chan, I love you to death, but either you stop this and tell your girlfriend the whole truth, or I will take matters into my own hands. She has put up with enough of your shit. Don’t hurt her more,” he had said.

“Give me some time; I will do it as soon as possible,” the younger one had strained out, fisting his hair.

“She better know about it all before the wedding,” Seungkwan had warned him before seeing himself out.

—

Chan had cut off Eva after that. He tried to change everything before actually marrying you. Then, being the kind person you are, you tried to understand your boyfriend. You really did. But this was the first time in ten years you considered leaving him.

This relationship didn’t make you happy anymore. But you had gone through so many troubles together. The effort to hold each other upright was taking a toll on you.

But you were a fighter. You had fought many battles with him by your side. You couldn’t give up on those years either. Your internal dilemma was killing you. But all of this came to a halt one day when you had come back from your night shift, only to find your boyfriend and the girl he oh so diligently claimed to be his good friend, talking in the living room.

It was not like they were trying to be quiet because you could hear every single word spoken by them.

“Chan, it’s yours.”

“Eva, I have a fiancé. I will never leave her. I already told you, I love her.”

“Oh, so you didn’t think about that before fucking me”

“It was a mistake”, Chan shouted.

“No, it wasn’t, we both were very sober”, came another shout

The conversation hit you like a truck, and with each sentence, you felt your heart shattering. The decision suddenly seemed a bit too easy to make.

You walked out of the chaos, leaving the ring behind on the shoe rack. That night, you stayed at your friend’s place.

Following that event, you called Seungkwan, informing him that you won’t talk to Chan anymore. He simply asked if you wanted any help moving out, to which you answered with a simple no.

That was the end of the relationship for you. You refused to talk or see Chan ever again.

—

Now, five years later, Chan is to be married again. Not with you; no, he missed his chance. It's with Eva. They figured the best way to raise Minhan was to be together. In a county like theirs, it wasn’t the best idea to raise a kid with two unmarried parents.

Chan loved Minhan to death. But he could never show the same love for Eva. Looking at her reminded him of the mistakes he made in life. It reminded him of the happiness he could have attained, but he lost due to his own faults.

He is happy Seungkwan is still beside him. He knows he doesn’t deserve a friend like him, so the fact that Seungkwan stayed beside him makes him feel grateful.

He knew that his wife and child would move in with him soon, but he didn’t have the courage to let them into the house yet. The house that held both your memories was a bit too precious to let go of so easily.

The next day came faster than he anticipated. As Chan stood there waiting for his bride, he saw a face that he had been longing to see for the last five years.

He saw your face, sitting there on the benches, a sad smile adorning your face. Your eyes filled with emotions and stories of the years you had spent together.

Oh, how badly Chan wanted to abandon everything and run to you. Apologize a hundred times and ask you to take him back. But he couldn’t; he had children to take care of and shoes to fill.

As he stood there saying his vows, hoping it’s you he saw walking down the aisle and it’s you he kissed, but they are called dreams for a reason. And not all dreams come true.

As he kissed his bride, he saw a glimpse of your teary eyes amongst the crowd, and a tear of his own fell. Wishing for a future he was never destined to have.

the end

[5-puthyyy]

The Magick That Binds Us (Agatha x Rio)

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 6k

Summary:

“What exactly is your plan now, then?” Agatha asks, taking a different approach hoping to talk her way out of this, “You haven’t thought this through, clearly. Are you just going to stand there, gaping like a fish? Staring at what you can’t have?”

Rio snaps her head to Agatha, frowning at her words. “I already have you…” she claims, pulling her dagger out of her boot. Agatha gulps, clenching her hands into tight fists.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Agatha panics as Rio gently presses the blade to her neck, just above the collar of her buttoned shirt, “You can’t kill me. That’s not allowed.”

Rio grins, wide and wild. “Oh, don’t you worry, sweetheart…I’m only giving you a little death.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Agatha tries to set Rio up but really she set herself up for a good old fashioned hate fuc---

WARNINGS! -- (18+ ONLY) SEXUAL CONTENT, CHOKING + BLOODPLAY + BREATHPLAY + FACE SLAPPING + (does vine-fucking count as monster fucking? help?) + RESTRAINTS

The Magick That Binds Us

For as long as she can remember, Agatha has been running. Running from Death who, despite being on this plane since the beginning of time, can’t seem to take a goddamn hint. Agatha feels she is well within her rights to want Rio dead, to want to never see her face again, to want her gone and out of her life. What she did is unforgivable.

But Agatha cannot force her feelings to disappear. Rio was her first love, her forever love. She knows deeper in her bones Rio is her destiny and she cannot outrun that. But it is far easier to hate her than love her, and are love and hate not different sides of the same coin?

“Agatha…” Rio’s voice echoes in the dark cabin Agatha had managed to lure her into, “Come out, sweetheart,” she continues, her voice playful and beautifully honeyed as it always is, “You’ll have to stop running eventually, my love.”

My love. Gods, Agatha hated that phrase now. She begged and begged for her love to do the right thing, to be there for her, but duty will always come first for Rio. Always. And Agatha had to be the one to suffer the consequences.

Agatha cackles a wicked laugh from the shadows, bouncing from wall to wall. Death tilts her head at the sound, trying to locate it but finding nothing but weak wood and barred windows. “My, my, the years have not been good to you, dear,” Agatha husks, her voice slithering around Rio’s neck.

“I’m in mourning,” Rio says simply, blunt and honest as she explains her new all-black attire. Agatha’s jaw tightens at her words, already feeling the anger within her rise to the surface.

“What do you have to mourn? You took everything from me!” she screeches, her voice no longer bouncing but coming straight from up the broken stairs.

Rio turns to face the direction of her voice. “I lost him too, Ag–”

“Quiet!” She yells, the sound disgruntled, twisted and angry, monstrous. Finally, she makes her appearance, stepping down the stairs from the shadows. She looks…Gods, she looks beautiful. So beautiful and broken. Rio can’t help the quiver in her lips as she frowns.

“Time looks great on you,” Rio whispers, clasping her hands behind her back to prevent them from reaching out. Agatha’s hair flows down her back in waves, still brown even in the darkness of this cabin. Her hands look skinnier, longer, somehow, fingers threateningly twirling the air. But those eyes. She’s opted for dark purple shadows that brighten the light blues in her eyes. She’s hypnotic.

“Tryna catch flies, hun?” Agatha teases as she begins circling the unmoving Green Witch. Rio stays in her spot, unable to move, terrified to move actually. She’s finding it a lot harder than she thought she would; being this close to Agatha for the first time in decades, that is. She missed her more than she could put into words. Rio has always been weak for Agatha, only her, so having to keep her hands to herself is proving to be a challenge, “Pathetic.”

Rio shakes her head at that, frowning at the cruelty of her love. She was never cruel to her, before. Agatha used to shower her with gifts, with love and affection, with that smile that shone so bright even Death couldn’t stop herself from being covered in the light of it. Now, all she can see is pain, sorrow, grief. It’s dark and dingy, wicked and sinister; there’s nothing pure, real, tangible in Agatha’s eyes as she observes Rio, circling her with the confidence of a Goddess.

She’s hiding, Rio realises; from Rio, from herself, from the grief that is threatening to consume her soul. “There is nothing pathetic about wanting you,” Rio replies smoothly, adoringly, not hiding the devotion in her wide eyes as Agatha’s pacing comes to a stop in front of her, “You know you cannot kill me,” Rio whispers, finally brave enough to reach a hand towards her witch.

Agatha aggressively slaps her hand away before it can reach her. “I can sure make it hurt, though,” she pushes through gritted teeth, smirking before lifting her hands in the air. Rio rolls her eyes adoringly, thinking if there was anyone on this plane more dramatic than Agatha, Death has yet to claim them. “Stop looking at me like that,” Agatha grumbles, pushing her hands forward.

The two stand in awkward silence for a moment, waiting. Rio lifts a brow. “Now what?” she says bluntly. Agatha grunts, using her fists instead. She takes a swing but it’s easily diverted, causing her to stumble forward into Rio’s waiting arms, “Hi there,” she smiles, wrapping her arms around Agatha’s reluctant form.

“Get the fuck off me, imbecile! What did you do?” She shoves and shoves while Rio sighs happily, burying her face in her lover’s neck. 

Agatha wonders why her Magick is not working in her own rune-protected space, desperately trying to conjure up the smallest of spells to get Rio away from her. She can’t do this, she can’t be this close to her. The scent of soil, death, mixed with that smallest touch of jasmine is too much for Agatha’s still-wounded heart. She can’t get mixed up in her again, not now, not like this.

“Did you really think runes would work on the Green Witch? You’re smarter than that, my love,” Rio chuckles, laying a gentle kiss against Agatha’s neck. The witch squirms in Rio’s arms, pushing against her chest, fighting to no avail. She remains locked in there, forced to endure the torture of this intimacy, “Look around you,” she encourages, humming in praise when Agatha listens.

“What is this?” The witch mutters, glancing around at the lit-up runes around the cabin. Rio lets go for a moment, giving Agatha her moment for reality to soak in, “How did you–”

Rio chuckles darkly, pulling her black hood back to reveal her own dramatic change. “What was the plan, Agatha?” With a swipe of her hand, a vine comes out of the ceiling, twisting around one of Agatha’s wrists, “Lure me here with angry, desperate cries?” Another vine appears, grabbing the other wrist, much to Agatha’s angry protests, “Runes…And you call me pathetic? This attempt was pathetic. I didn’t think you were capable of underestimating me, sweetheart, but here we are,” The runes flash green, indicating Rio replacing Agatha’s sketchy ones with her own.

Agatha remains silent, trying to think of a way out of this. She tugs at the vines but they’re indestructible, unmoving. Before she can think up anything else, another two rip through the air and grab at her ankles, “Vidal, if you don’t let me go, I swear to you I will not rest until you meet your end!” she sneers, suspended in the air now. Her knees are bent, calves pressed to the back of her thighs, arms behind her back. Rio twists a finger, the vines twisting to her will until Agatha’s facing her ex-lover.

“I already have,” she whispers, trailing a finger down the side of Agatha’s jaw. She hovers over Agatha’s pulse point, feeling the fast throb of her heart, in awe of how it quickens as she steps closer, “Why don’t you want me?” Rio whines, sniffing hard as she buries her face in the space where Agatha’s neck and shoulder meet.

The witch sighs, throwing her head back at the proximity. “You know why.”

It’s a simple answer that requires no explanation. But Rio demands one, needs one, needs a solution to their problem. “I had no choice,” Rio says quietly, more to herself than Agatha, voice trembling, quivering, fingers dangerously low on Agatha’s hips now.

“There is always a choice, Vidal. Always,” Agatha replies, her tone stern, unmoving. 

Rio smirks at that, stepping back, noting the subtle way Agatha rolls her body forward. “Oh, yeah? Get out then.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Agatha spits, grinding her teeth together so hard Rio can hear it in the silence between them.

Rio laughs again, a sound bordering a snort this time. “No, no, go on. If there’s a choice, get yourself out of my vines and leave,” Rio leans in close again, the tips of her fingers brushing over Agatha’s waist, twisting and turning to her lower back, “We both know you’re clever enough to do so…unless you don’t want to leave,” she smiles against the back of Agatha’s neck, dramatically licking a long strip of skin, “Unless you want me.”

“I don’t,” Agatha insists, shuffling and tugging against the vines, “I don’t,” she sneers again when Rio circles back to her with a proud smirk.

Rio takes her moment to really look at Agatha, at the twitch in her brow, the slight gulp, the way the tip of her tongue peeks out to lick at her lower lip. She’s turned on.

The smirk only widens and so does that warmth in her chest. “You can deny it as much as you wants but we’re bound to be together,” Rio lets out a loud ‘HA’ at her pun, much to Agatha’s frustration. The witch simply rolls her eyes at the stupidity, sighing in defeat.

“What exactly is your plan now, then?” Agatha asks, taking a different approach hoping to talk her way out of this, “You haven’t thought this through, clearly. Are you just going to stand there, gaping like a fish? Staring at what you can’t have?”

Rio snaps her head to Agatha, frowning at her words. “I already have you…” she claims, pulling her dagger out of her boot. Agatha gulps, clenching her hands into tight fists. 

“Wait, wait, wait!” Agatha panics as Rio gently presses the blade to her neck, just above the collar of her buttoned shirt, “You can’t kill me. That’s not allowed.”

Rio grins, wide and wild. “Oh, don’t you worry, sweetheart…I’m only giving you a little death.”

With that, Rio uses the dagger to rip right through the white shirt, revealing Agatha’s lacy green bra. The buttons scatter across the floor as the tip of her dagger catches them.

“Wore this for me?” The Green Witch sighs, wasting no time as she nuzzles between Agatha’s breasts. Her witch suppresses a sigh at the feeling, choosing to thrash against the vines, still suspending in the air.

“Oh, don’t fucking flatter yourself,” Agatha grumbles defensively, huffing in frustration as Rio sucks an angry mark onto the top of her breast. The discomfort of this position is already dawning on Agatha; it’s even more uncomfortable with the growing wetness between her thighs. 

Gods, she fucking hates her. She hates how Rio makes her feel, hates the power and control she’ll always have over her, hates that Rio always gets to take and give nothing in return. And most important of all, Agatha fucking hates how much she loves it. The chase, the danger, the thrill of that dagger against her throat knowing that she’s tied and unable to stop her. Rio could kill her right now, or take her right now, and the choice is entirely in her hands. But Agatha will never tell Rio how badly she wants this, wants her all the time.

“Are you going to fuck me or leave me hanging?” Agatha asks, clearly trying to entice Rio to take the first option.

“Ha,” Rio snorts, pulling back to hold Agatha’s cheek in her hand. She takes a moment to look into her eyes, trace her slightly aged features, still as beautiful as ever, “You’ve been a bad girl, Agatha,” Rio whispers, voice low and dark as she leans in, teasingly swiping the tip of her tongue over Agatha’s parted lips, “And bad girls gets punished.”

It was frankly impossible for Agatha not to let out a whimper at that, the tiniest of whimpers ever but loud enough for Rio to hear – she must have, given the look of pure glee that takes over her features. With that, Rio quickly pecks Agatha’s lips with a whispered, “Love you,” before circling a finger in the air.

“Hate you,” Agatha sneers back, yelling in anger as she’s spun around by the vines, body twisted and positioned like a ragdoll. She’s facing the floor now, her legs lowered, her behind towards Rio. It takes her a moment, only when the breeze hits her skin, for her to realise Rio magically removed the rest of her clothes.

“I think I’ll keep these,” the Green Witch contemplates, greedily tucking Agatha’s lace panties into the back pocket of her pants, “Look at you…” Rio whispers, sighing contentedly as she indulges in feeling the soft skin of Agatha’s thighs, “So beautiful, Agatha…Always so pretty for me.”

To mark the end of her words, Rio suddenly slaps a hand to a plump ass cheek. Pushed forward by the pressure of the hit, Agatha swallows her grunt, swallows her pride, utterly exposed in this position. She won’t give Rio the satisfaction of hearing her whimper and beg like a–

“Fuck, God,” A loud whine rips out of Agatha’s throat as Rio’s hand suddenly slaps against her glistening lower lips.

The Green Witch lets out a dark chuckle, slithering a finger between Agatha’s slit. “Not God, sweetheart. You’ll be stuck with me for this life…and the next,” she rasps, punctuating her words with another spank to Agatha’s cunt. Agatha barely had time to react with a moan before she choked on the sound, taken by surprise as Rio slapped harder, this time leaving her hand to linger.

“Fuck you,” she curses, teeth grinding together in anger.

Rio merely smiles wickedly, fingers tracing wet folds and sliding between them teasingly. Death has not just felt power; she is power. But nothing can beat this, her, taking Agatha and making her submit. It was one thing at the start of their relationship, being able to touch someone as beautiful as her witch, being wanted in that way, whimpering at the whispered promises of forever in Agatha’s gentle fingertips that pressed to her shoulder blades. But after…after Nicky, after Agatha left her, blamed her, blurred the line between love and hate…after that, it became about power. Not because Rio wanted it to, but because it had to. Agatha gave no love and wanted none in return. And Rio had promised to always give her love what she wanted.

“All you have to do is ask.”

The air is sucked out of Agatha’s lungs as Rio’s fingers plunge into her, starting at a rapid pace with no plans to slow. All the while, Rio continues with her ramblings and Agatha tries to ignore her words and focus on the mix of pain and pleasure between her legs.

“I really am hurt, Agatha,” Rio grunts, using her free hand to spank Agatha’s reddening ass cheek, eyes wide and eager as she watches the pale skin change, “Not that you set this all up to try to kill me, no, if anything that’s got me absolutely soaked for you,” with a flick of her fingers, the vines twist Agatha until her back is flush to Rio’s front, “You’ll get a taste of that soon enough,” she whispers into Agatha’s ear, teasingly biting her earlobe before flicking her back into her bent-over position, “No, I’m hurt that you thought you could do it.”

Agatha groans, rolling her eyes. “Oh, stop fucking talking and fuck me like you mean–”

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

Agatha sucks in a sharp breath at the sound of Rio’s demon voice; dark, cold, detaching yet angry all at once. She felt that familiar mix of excitement and fear in her as this only meant one thing. Rio’s going to absolutely ruin her. She’ll tear her apart, break her down, make her forget everything and everyone but Rio.

Rio hums in approval, curling her fingers as she drags them inside Agatha’s tight walls. “Won’t call you what you want just yet…but keep it up and you’ll get your reward,” she husks, taking Agatha’s immediate silence as obedience.

Agatha means to speak up, means to argue and fight back, claw at Rio with her words, but nothing comes out. Nothing but her shaky breaths and stutters.

“Is that really all it took?” Rio asks patronisingly, “Huh? Oh, baby, I’m so sorry for taking this long to come back to you…” Rio soothes, her touch deceptively gentle as her fingertips trail up Agatha’s spine, “Has it been that long since you’ve been touched?” She asks with a smile as she runs a hand through Agatha’s locks.

But Agatha decides that she’s not done yet. She chuckles, low and dark. “Oh, now you’re about to truly be hurt…”

Rio’s hand freezes in her hair and Agatha can’t see a thing, can’t turn back to watch that smile drop. But she instantly feels it. Feels it in the angry curl of Rio’s fingers still gently fucking her, in her tightening hold of Agatha’s hair, in Rio’s ragged breathing.

“Who?” Rio utters a single word, a command. Despite Rio exuding power, Agatha remains strong in her defiance, choosing to stay silently smirking. With a disgruntled grunt, Rio pulls her fingers out, leaving Agatha with a harsh spank that catches her clit.

Agatha whines, managing to swallow only half the sound before it comes out. Rio’s suddenly in front of her in a puff of green, too impatient to simply walk. Her hand grips Agatha’s face, forcing her to bend her neck to look up into her angry, wide eyes.

“Name.”

The silence is thick between them, so thick Agatha feels she’ll choke on it soon if she doesn’t provide Death with an answer. Their eyes remain glued to each other, unblinking in a silent battle, Rio’s flashing with vulnerable jealousy she has always been terrible at hiding. Agatha nearly wants to laugh at it, at her innocence when it comes to human emotion despite the fact that she has been here longer than humans themselves, long enough to master it. But when it comes to Agatha…well, Rio has always been weak.

“Green looks good on you,” Agatha chooses to whisper teasingly, breaking the silence. It’s a tense moment or two as Rio decides what to do with her, her hand slowly loosening before sliding down inch by inch until she’s gripping Agatha’s neck, “What–Uh, what are you doing?” Agatha nervously stutters, knowing she’s pushed Rio far enough now. The raw, untamed aggression was always the one thing that would break Agatha’s front.

Rio stares into her eyes, sucking all the fear, the anticipation, the disobedience out of Agatha, her eyes flashing darkly before she squeezes. While Agatha’s distracted, gasping at the new sensation, Rio lifts her other hand and, without warning, slaps Agatha’s cheek. The sound echoes as Agatha gasps sharply. Yet it’s nowhere near as loud as the silence that follows. Agatha slowly turns her head back to Rio, her eyes wider, brighter yet darker at once, lips trembling. Her cheek’s already turning red from the impact but Rio can only see the storm in her eyes.

She clenches her jaw, her face flickering to her Death form for just a moment, but it’s enough to threaten her little witch whose eyes flutter beautifully. “I will not ask again.”

“Her name is Grace.”

The hand tightens until Agatha’s cheeks are red and the vein on her forehead protrudes. Rio only lets go when she feels that Agatha’s call to her is close, relishing in the desperate harsh breaths in for air. She steps back, keeping herself busy by using her Magick to form a chair for herself–No, a throne, made of branches, wrapped with vines that pull from the Earth. It breaks through the wooden floorboards as Agatha catches her breath in the back.

“Hm,” Rio hums as she descends, legs spread, arms resting as she watches over Agatha’s hanging figure, eyes gleaming with self-satisfaction watching her vines controlling Agatha’s body, “I’ll ask you that question again when I’m done with you. I expect a better answer.”

With another flick of her fingers, Agatha’s body’s flung around until she’s horizontal but slightly upright, just enough for her eyes to always meet Rio’s, legs spread for Rio to watch freely.

“What…” Agatha pants, frustration growing as Rio tilts her head from her throne, “Are you just planning to sit there and watch? What happened to me getting a taste, huh? Are you going to fuck me or have you forgotten how, hmm? All these years without practice must have–”

“How would you know?” Rio interrupts Agatha rudely, paying her offended expression no mind, “I was hurt, Agatha. You abandoned me. Rejected me. How would you know whether I sought comfort in the arms of another?”

The mere suggestion has Agatha’s jaw clenching, Rio watching the sharpness of it with satisfaction. “You wouldn’t.” 

Rio lifts a brow. “Wouldn’t I?”

“No, you’re mi–” Agatha cuts herself off before the slip-up, lips quivering as she forces herself to look away before anger takes control of her. Maybe this was a mistake. Coming here thinking she could handle seeing Rio again, could forget the years they missed, could accept the fact that they were done and Rio would not wait forever for her.

The slip-up is too obvious for Rio not to notice, but instead of pride, she’s surprised that she only feels rage. “No, Agatha. You don’t get to have me. Not after what you’ve done,” she yells, her tone cutting sharp enough for Agatha to flinch, “All you get is punishment.”

With that, one of the vines twirling around starts to thicken, leaves floating to the ground. Agatha’s head snaps to it as it appears, wrapping, slithering up and around her inner thigh. “Wait,” Agatha suddenly pleads, having not expected Rio to pull something like this. She pulls at the restraints, grumbling, huffing and puffing as they refuse to loosen, “Rio, I’m–”

The Green Witch has no time to focus on Agatha’s use of her name – finally – before twisting her hand, controlling the thick vine that thrusts through Agatha’s entrance. Her witch moans deliciously at the invasion, no longer able to keep up her act. She wanted this, wants Rio, badly, given how wet she is. 

“Oh, would you look at that,” Rio comments, amused at the way her vine slipped in with no struggle, “Someone’s eager,” she snickers, pulling a leg up to rest her foot on the edge of her throne. Her hand hangs over her knee languidly, content to sit there with a soft smirk as Agatha moans, groans, and whines at the relentless pace of the vine between her legs.

This is what she wanted all along. To be taken by Death, by the Green Witch, used and put on display for her satisfaction. The true punishment isn’t the slapping, the choking, the angry, brutal pace of her thrusts, no…the real punishment is taking her power from her.

“No clever retort? Hmm, Agatha? Nothing left to say?”

God, she loves how Rio says her name, insists on saying it all the time. She pronounces every letter, spells it out slowly, gently, like it’s the first and last time she’s saying it, like she’s trying to memorise the way it feels on her tongue. Agatha’s too focused on that to reply, too focused on seeking her pleasure, her walls tightening around the intruding vine. It’s thick enough to stretch her slightly, deliciously painful as it gives no warning, no time for adjustment; it simply takes, following Rio’s command because that’s all she wants to do to Agatha. It’s all she’s ever done. Take, take, take–

“Fuck you, you crazy fucking–” Before she can finish off her angry insult, her mouth is suddenly full. Her eyes widen in shock, meeting Rio’s eerily dark eyes and satisfied smirk.

“Speak up, sweetheart, I can’t hear you,” Rio cackles, swirling her fingers to control both thrusting vines, the one between Agatha’s lips and the thicker one between her legs. She’d be fucking her with something else right now if Agatha wanted her to, if she would only be good for her. But no, that would make Rio feel every inch of Agatha wrapped around her entire being and she can’t have that now. Agatha doesn’t deserve that. Not yet, anyway.

Instead, Rio sits back and observes her lover, pushing her own needs aside despite how uncomfortable her soaked panties feel right now. Her eyes stay locked to Agatha’s wide, fearful yet lustful ones, a silent question radiating from them. Rio leaves it unanswered, breaking her gaze to glance at the vine steadily pacing inside and out of Agatha’s mouth. Her lips split apart, plump, swollen, pink and glistening with her spit that had made its way down her neck. She follows the trail to Agatha’s chest, her dark nipples painfully hard, practically begging for Rio’s mouth to take them; she has to grip the armrest of her wooden throne to stop herself from pouncing.

The final act is the most enticing. She’s been hearing the obscene, wet squelching sounds but now that she’s looking at it, Rio finds her self-control wavering. She’s barely started yet Agatha looks utterly destroyed. Red, swollen pussy lips easily part for Rio’s vine that comes out coated in more and more of Agatha’s slick with each thrust. The patch of brown curls gleams from the wetness that has spread everywhere; her inner thighs, dripping down her pussy to her puckered hole, Rio’s sure it has to be on the fucking floor too.

Agatha senses Rio’s on the edge of the barrier and moans filthily around the vine invading her mouth. She attempts to roll her hips to the thrusts, wanting more and more, wanting Rio, God, she wants her so bad, wants to be wanted, needed so badly that Rio fucks her like an unrestrained monster.

“You–” Rio clears her throat at the croak, nails digging into the wooden armrest, “You’re enjoying this a little too much for a punishment,” she says weakly, trying to save herself some embarrassment at how affected she is by the sight, but she can feel the smugness in Agatha’s eyes and knows it hasn’t worked, “Guess I’ll have to fix that.”

Rio places two of her fingertips together, tilting her head in concentration as she zeroes in on Agatha’s cunt. Deciding she needs to hear Agatha first, she flicks her other hand, pulling the vine out of Agatha’s mouth with a wet pop. Her witch immediately gasps, coughing as she sucks in as much air as she can.

“Are you–Fuck,” Agatha throws her head back at the pleasure, feeling herself reaching closer and closer to the edge of that mountain, “Are you finally going to fuck me yourself or are you still too scared you won’t satisfy me?” she manages to tease, using all the tools in her box to try to push Rio over that edge. 

Death simply looks up at her with knowing eyes, seeing right through her. She presses her fingertips together, looking Agatha directly in the eyes as she slowly pulls them apart. She takes in the wide, darkened blue eyes, the gasp, her lips parting, the whimper that slips out; Agatha’s body tenses completely, flexing her subtle muscles at the feeling, the realisation that Rio is making the vine buried deep inside her thicker.

“Fuck, Rio,” Agatha moans her name like a whispered prayer, breaking their heated gaze to throw her head back as her eyes roll, “Yes,” she hisses at the painful stretch, arching her back best as she can in her hanging position. 

Rio drops her gaze quickly to Agatha’s cunt, breathing in sharply at the sight of her walls stretched, trying to throb and pulse around the big green vine but failing miserably. She’s ethereal. Rio’s heart swells, suddenly leaving her throne and walking over to Agatha like a magnet. She can’t help but reach out, brushing her fingertips up Agatha’s calves, along her inner thighs. Gathering a little slick between them, she pulls her trembling fingers to her lips, daring herself to stick a tongue out and taste what she’s been missing for so, so long.

Agatha cannot speak a word but her eyes, her body tell all as she watches excitedly. Taste me, they say. She rolls her hips upwards, take me, they say, ruin me, devour me, claim me.

With a deciding growl, one that surprises Agatha, Rio steps back, forcing herself to her throne. She twists her fingers until the vines retreat from Agatha’s holes, the witch immediately moaning in despair at the sudden emptiness. 

“Rio,” She pleads, moans her lover’s name in the hopes of enticing her, “I’m close, so close, don’t you want to taste me? Feel me tight against your tongue?” She says absolutely everything but the word Rio needs. The Green Witch tilts her head, watching with a tight jaw as Agatha grinds her hips against the air, tugs her wrists against the vines that refuse to let go. She tugs and tugs until she yells in frustration.

“Tell me you want me,” Rio commands, her words coming with a tone of finality. It’s all Agatha can do to get what she wants. Rio’s making it clear that it is the only option.

“You want me,” Agatha retorts, trying to catch Rio off-guard, beat her at her own game. But she should know her better by now.

“I do,” She says simply, refusing to deny it, brutally, painfully, tenderly honest as she looks into Agatha’s annoyed eyes, “I want you, Agatha, I want to hold you, feel you around me, taste you, fuck you until you cry for me to stop. I want you, always.”

“Stop.” 

She doesn’t stop, comes closer, fingers tracing Agatha’s jawline. “In all my existence, I have no wanted. Until you. Now all I know is want.”

“Stop it, Vidal.” 

“Do you know how it feels, Agatha? To go your entire life with nothing, feeling nothing, wanting nothing. To have accepted that as what it is, just for your world to be flipped upside down. The aching…the longing…I spend every single second thinking about you, about kissing you, touching you, just looking at you is all I needed Agatha, but you left. Me. You left me, alone.”

“I–”

“Tell me. Do you feel it, too? Do you ache?” she punctuates the word with a flick of her finger, the tip of a vine brushing over Agatha’s clit, “Do you long?” another vine flicks hard over her nipple, “Do you think of me?” 

Agatha refuses to speak, and despite Rio seeing how close she is to breaking, she still loses her patience. With another growl, she circles her hands facing the ground before lifting them up, breaking the flooring with a wooden platform just like her throne. It’s covered in soil, another flick allowing fresh azaleas to bloom. The vines wrap around it to secure it and before she knows it, Agatha’s lowered to lay on the platform.

The vines wrap around Agatha’s wrists and ankles, blinding her, stretching her. She doesn’t bother struggling, doesn’t bother tugging; it won’t work and they both know it. One look at Rio’s dangerously dark expression and Agatha decides the best thing to do is lay back in defeat. She drops her head, surprised when it hits softness instead of rough wood.

“I missed you, my love,” Rio husks, her fingertips burning against the skin of Agatha’s sweaty thighs. They follow the wet trail left in the mess of Agatha’s desire until they reach the pulsing heat between her legs. She takes a moment to tease, twirling the damp patch of impossibly soft curls between her fingers.

“Rio, just touch me,” Agatha begs. It’s right there at the tip of her tongue, and Rio senses it, gives in for a moment but not without a teasing glint in her eyes that lets Agatha know she’s plotting something. Before Agatha can say anything else in protest, Rio thrusts two fingers into her knuckle-deep. “Fuck, Rio,” Agatha chokes on her moan, arching her back into Rio’s touch as best as she can.

Rio growls at the sound of Agatha’s intoxicating moans, jumping up and mounting Agatha with untamed desire. Her tongue immediately finds Agatha’s neck, licking up from her collarbone to her ear, all while her fingers relentlessly thrust inside of her. The act of licking her neck is filthy, but Agatha loves it, throwing her head to the side to expose more of her neck to Rio’s mouth; the Green Witch eagerly bites down, creating mark after mark as if painting over a canvas.

“Say it,” Rio demands again, panting hotly into Agatha’s ear. She clings to her goal, needs to break Agatha’s walls down until there is nothing left but the raw truth.

But Agatha remains silent still and Rio takes that as disobedience. The witch arches into Rio’s touch, eyes rolled to the back of her head, lips parted like they the gates to paradise and Rio wants nothing more than to dive in and claim it. The way her warmth is tightening, throbbing around Rio’s fast fingers is more than enough to tell Rio she’s seconds away from falling over that edge. Which is why she pulls away.

“Fuck, no, no, you–you can’t–” Agatha’s words are sucked in as Rio’s hand smacks her across the face again. Her head turns right back in defiance, attempting to stand her ground.

Rio grins wickedly. “I can. I did,” she leans down, biting Agatha’s lower lip hard enough to draw blood which she eagerly licks up, “You want to come?” Rio asks mockingly, her hand coming down to grip Agatha’s neck, “You know what you need to do.”

The thrill and pain of this torture have Agatha at a crossroads. She feels on the verge of tears, orgasm, and murder all at once, and she’s unsure which she wants the most. But what she does know is all roads lead to Rio, and she really does only have one choice here.

“Please.”

Rio pauses, her smirk faltering at the unexpected turn. “What?” she whispers in shock, no quiet believing her ears. She takes in Agatha’s expression, her brown eyes wide, unblinking and observant; she refuses to miss a single shift. The way Agatha’s brow twitches slightly, the subtle quiver of her lips, her cheekbones sharp as her jaw as she bites her tongue and sucks in her pride.

Agatha sighs out a shaky breath, blinking once, long, her blue eyes shedding a layer to show Rio her willingness to be vulnerable. Of course, it’s only to get what she needs out of this, and they both know it, but Rio lets herself sink into the delusion that this is more. Agatha will want more, she will well and truly forgive her one day and love her not because she simply does, but because she wants to.

“Rio, I need you to fuck me. Please.”

It’s not exactly what Rio wants, but it’s enough. Her fingers find their way back to Agatha as does her heart; they both sink into the unforgiving witch with a tenderness gentle enough to bring tears to the soulless. She keeps her face buried in Agatha’s neck. Rio cannot bear to look at her, cannot bear the inevitable rejection, the humiliation of it all.

“Right there,” Agatha whimpers into Rio’s ear as her lover pumps three fingers into her tight heat. It’s fast, wet, loud, and suddenly incredibly tense as Rio’s silence amplifies the sound between Agatha’s legs. There’s a discomfort and eeriness to it, to a quiet Rio. Agatha’s unsure whether she likes it or not, which is a shock to her since all she’s wanted to do is shut the witch up.

“I’ll give you what you want, Agatha,” I always will, she thinks, but doesn’t dare say aloud. She fucks her, her fingers pumping almost mechanically, her thumb twisting up to brush against Agatha’s clit with each thrust, her tongue lapping gently, lips kissing, mouth sucking, teeth biting. The claim means nothing in the end. Agatha will run again because it is less painful than bearing the truth, accepting the Magick that binds them.

Agatha writhes beneath her, her whines turning into loud, wanting moans, desire as untamed as her hair. She’s been pushed to the edge over and over again all night, this should be easy now that Rio’s fingers are inside her. But something holds her back. She tightens and tightens, forces her eyes to shut as she concentrates on the building pleasure, but she reaches that edge and stays there, her body too stubborn to let her fall.

“Fuck, Rio, I–” Agatha groans in frustration, her tone shedding another mask, “I can’t, I need–”

Rio’s mouth hovers over her ear, always obedient and eager for Agatha. “What do you need?” she asks, gently kissing the skin of her ear, “My fingers are inside you, and I won’t stop. Is that not what you needed?” Rio continues, “Is it permission? You have it, Agatha, do what you like. Have it your way, as you always do,” Rio’s words scream devotion but her tone screams defeat and Agatha…Agatha hates it. And more importantly, she hates the way a defeated Rio makes her heart clench painfully in her chest. She doesn’t want this, no, not Rio like this, so broken, so detached. No, she wants her eyes, wants her lips, wants to feel Rio’s soul sink into hers until Rio is all she can feel.

“I want you.”  

There is no mistaking the raw truth in her tone this time. Gone is the facade, the mask, the fear of vulnerability. Rio can hear it all, can see her, see what she truly wants. She slowly pulls her face away from Agatha’s neck but her eyes remain shut tight, terrified she’ll open them and see deception. Her fingers pause, curling inside Agatha like she’s attempting to carve herself into her lover.

Rio flinches at the sudden touch of a gentle hand to her cheek, the unexpected feeling forcing her eyes to snap open to meet the clear skies Agatha’s eyes are communicating to her. Gone is the storm and all that is left is…

“You. I want you, Rio. I need you, crave you, I ache for you more than you will ever believe,” she whispers, words too quiet as if she’s terrified of speaking them.

Rio lets them warm her heart as she sinks her body into Agatha. She lets herself go, wanting to be close and taking it, taking Agatha who wraps her legs around Rio’s waist and pulls her in as if she wants to mould their souls together.

“Agatha,” Rio whispers like a prayer, brushing her nose to her lover’s. She slowly begins to thrust her fingers again, sucking in the breath Agatha lets out. Their eyes remain locked together, lips brushing against each other with each powerful, deep thrust.

“More,” Agatha begs, “Please, more,” she begs, begs, begs and Rio cannot deny her, not while she’s like this, heart split open for Death to consume her.

“I would give you the world, if only you would ask,” Rio pants in confession, whining and whimpering as Agatha’s nails find the back of her neck, “I–I did all I could and more, Agatha, I swear this to you,” Rio whimpers again, letting a tear drop and slide down Agatha’s cheek.

“I know, my love,” Agatha sighs, gasps, tightening her legs around Rio’s waist as she pulls her in, “I know you did.”

It only takes a kiss to throw her over the edge. Rio leans in just as she curls her fingers and presses a thumb to Agatha’s clit. Their lips meet gently, yet passionately, hungrily sucking. There’s a swipe of a tongue and someone lets the other in, their tongues begin to dance and there is no fight this time, just surrender. 

The Sun is up by the time their lips part. Rio is resting her head against her lover’s chest, eyes still teary, hands still clutching so tightly because that sinking feeling of inevitability in her stomach has refused to leave.

“You already gave me the world, Rio,” Agatha says, voice hoarse yet stronger, shielded again, “And then you took it from me.”

masterlist + guidelines

idk why i made this painful but lmfao here you go

[wrongcaitlyn]

wrongcaitlyn masterlist

decided to make this for anyone coming from greatest of luxuries or new to my works in general, in case anyone wants to check out my other stuff! my ao3

my name's tawny (not caitlyn, lmao, that's actually from caitlyn kiramman from arcane), i use she/her pronouns, and i write pjo and marauders fics!

asks are open, i love rambling abt any of these fics (or general fandom stuff) <3

i currently have one main wip that i'm working on:

the greatest of luxuries (is your secrets): solangelo, part of the dear reader series, popstar!nico, and a sequel to talk your talk. updates every sunday!

other ongoing wip's:

checkmate, i couldn't lose: solangelo, hs/nerds/academic rivals (sort of) au, road trip with lots of fluff

i can fix him (woah, maybe i can't): solangelo, renegades au (so like, superheroes and villains), enemies to lovers (sort of) + secret identities

and several completed fics (both multi-chaps and one-shots)!

PJO COMPLETED FICS

dear reader series - popstar au - talk your talk and go viral (i just need this love spiral) - 34 ch, 145k words, solangelo - still hoping that the fire won't burn me (just one time) - one-shot, 11.1k, valgrace - forever going with the flow (but you're friction) - 2 ch, 17.1k words, fierrochase - you don't need to save me (but would you run away with me) - one-shot, 6k words, shelper - still look at you (like the stars that shine) - one-shot, 7.4k words, rachel

keep your eyes open series - hunger games au - staying on guard (every lesson forms a new scar) - 6 ch, 40.2k words, solangelo, MCD - i've got a lot to pine about (a lot to live without) - one-shot, 2.2k words, solangelo/will solace-centric, graphic depictions of violence, psychological torture

because i'm a mirrorball series - will solace-centric, canon-verse - i've never been a natural (all i do is try, try, try) - one-shot, 10k words, will solace from pre-tlt to botl, not tsats compliant (written before that was released and my own version of will solace lore) - i'm still a believer (but i don't know why) - one-shot, 9.2k words, will solace from botl to tlo, not tsats compliant, canonical MCD - when i break, it's in a million pieces - one-shot, 1.7k words, will solace-centric, battle of manhattan aftermath, all canon/tsats compliant - i'm still tryin' everything (to get you laughing at me) - one-shot, 3.5k words, solangelo from ttc to end of boo, mostly tsats compliant - i'm still on my tallest tiptoes (shinin' just for you) - one-shot, 2k words, solangelo during toa, all canon/tsats compliant - all along there was some invisible string (tying you to me) - one-shot, 1.3k words, solangelo pre-toa, missing scene that's referenced in tsats (their first kiss), all canon/tsats compliant

god, i'm actually invested (haven't even met him) - one-shot, 5.7k words, solangelo au where nico goes to camp jupiter after the giant war instead of staying at camp half-blood, and will meets him years later when going to new rome university

so american - one-shot, 9.6k words, solangelo fame au (country singer will & actor nico)

let's go (battle royale) - one-shot, 7k words, solangelo fortnite streamers au, lots of references to the greek gods-themed season

on a wednesday in a cafe - one-shot, 2.3k words, solangelo college/coffee shop au, an absurd amount of taylor swift song references

like i'd be saved by a perfect kiss - one-shot, 1.1k words, aroace reyna-centric during toa, reyna's pov of rejecting apollo

i'm a mess (but i'm the mess that you wanted) - one-shot, 5.1k, solangelo arcane/timebomb au, nico as jinx and will as ekko but canon divergent from what actually happens in arcane (you don't need to watch arcane to understand it though)

midnights become my afternoons - one-shot, 3.3k words, aroace leo-centric on the argo II, with a bit of leo & nico friendship, canon compliant

ARCANE COMPLETED FICS

dream of some epiphany - one-shot, 1.7k words, caitlyn character study, her thoughts after she takes out the knife in the fight against ambessa and then after the battle

MARAUDERS COMPLETED FICS

reputation (regulus' version) series - celebrity au - starry eyes (sparking up my darkest night) - 16 ch, 113k words, regulus as rep era taylor swift au, james as joe, marauders as a band, background wolfstar and dorlene - baby, let the games begin - one-shot, 1.7k words, bonus chapter to starry eyes, jegulus (in between chapters 15 and 16)

clear blue waters (high tide came and brought you in) - 7 ch, 32.1k words, jegulus cruiseship au, background wolfstar and lots of teenager tonks, very fluffy

and one on hiatus!

may these memories break our fall: jegulus/wolfstar, percy jackson au, and follows the quest of heroes of olympus.

OTHER COMPLETED FICS

- overdue for a revival - one-shot, 8.6k words, harry potter au where charlie weasley becomes the comc professor in poa

[orqheuss]

Not yet corpses (still, we rot)

(Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow/GN!Reader HURT/COMFORT)

Summary:

For a moment, everything felt still. Silence consumed the space, sucking all the air out of the room like the tide as a tsunami made its way towards shore. All Ominis could hear was the harsh ringing in his ears and the startled gasp from his counterpart behind him. Panic began to crawl its way into his throat once more. Sebastian’s heart stuttered in his chest, his words forcing themselves out around the lump that formed under his jaw. “Oh, dear God…” *** What were the boys doing while you were saving Hogwarts? *** Contains spoilers from the game Title from the song "Dirt and Roses" by Rise Against

Word count: 6k

AN: I’m moving all of my fics over from Ao3 to make them more accessible! These are my fics.

TW: - Blood - Gore - Anxiety - Detailed descriptions of injury - Near death experiences - Claustrophobia (only for a little bit, tho. I have it too and that's all I could write, lol) 

“Knight to E5.” Sebastian quips, leaning back in his wicker chair, his arms crossed against his chest and a smug smile tweaking at the corners of his mouth. He watched the boy across from him regard the wizards chess board, the tip of his wand blinking that comforting red light he had grown accustomed to after years of friendship. It was probably not the most fair thing in the world to go against someone blind in a game that required sight over everything else, but that didn’t stop the brunette from trying his very best at beating his best friend in absolutely everything— he was nothing if not competitive. That being said, as much as he loved the idea of pulling one over on Ominis, the feat was nearly impossible . The blond was far too good. It didn’t matter if it was a game of gobstones, a duel in Crossed Wands, even exploding snaps, a game where sight was a necessity, all because of that blasted wand! The only thing that Ominis was truly bad at was potions, and even then he would likely still get an Acceptable on their OWLS. Sebastian felt that this round of chess was different, though. He could see the furrow of his partner’s brows in the low candlelight of the Undercroft, trace how his hand rested on his chin in puzzlement— fingers pinching at the skin there and stroking like tweaking an imaginary beard. He was currently in the lead, most of Ominis’ pieces resting broken on his side of the board. A truly violent game, that wizards chess. 

A light tisk came from his companions mouth, his wand still gently coasting over the top of the board just out of reach of the pieces, before his eyebrows slowly rose back to their normal position on his temple, a mischievous smile making its way across his cheeks and a twinkle of something unrecognizable, but all the more devious, in his eyes. He leaned back in his own chair, adopting a similar cadence as his brunette counterpart, his body language oozing confidence. Sebastian shifted in his seat, eyes casting uneasy glances between the boy and the board as sweat began to bead on his brow. Surely not, he mused— there was no way Ominis figured out a new strategy. 

The blond lightly chuckled, sensing the sudden nervousness of his friend. “Queen to E5.” 

Bollocks.

Sebastian was helpless to watch the white marble queen piece shift its way across the board towards his onyx black knight. The matriarch stood from her throne, bringing her chair around to her front and up over her shoulder, before crashing it down over the head of his brave steed. The brunette scowled at the board before tilting his chin to the ceiling, his head cracking lightly on the back of the chair as he leaned away and groaned into the musky air of the hideaway, his arms thrown upwards in a show of surrender. 

“You’re a bastard, Gaunt.” 

Ominis laughed, his form slumping forward over the little end table they were next to as he waved his wand, collecting all the broken pieces and placing them back into the chess box where they would self-repair. 

“No, unfortunately my heritage is legitimate.” He simpered, a light jab dancing on the tip of his tongue. “The juries still out for you, though, my dear friend. You have as much grace as a charging erumpent.” 

Sebastian gasped in outrage, his hand dramatically fluttering to his chest and resting over his heart like a damsel in distress. “Oh, I’m wounded! You’ve wounded me, Ominis. How ever will I recover— doomed to live a life of desolate mediocrity at the hands of my very best friend?” He slowly slid out of his chair, letting gravity work its magic and flopping dramatically on the floor, limbs sprawled out like a flattened lizard. 

The smaller Slytherin guffawed, a large grin splitting his face as he kicked his leg out towards the brunette, his shoe jabbing him harshly in the calf. “Quit it, you buffoon. You aren’t going to die because I beat you in wizards chess.” 

Sebastian sighed heavily, the back of his hand slapping against his forehead in overzealous woe. “Oh but I am! I will never be the same, never! I shall cover all of my mirrors so I never have to see my failurous face ever again— cover my head with a ghastly bag to shield the world from my shameful dereliction!” Small sounds of sorrow continued to fill the air around them, long drawn out “boohoo’s” falling from the brunette’s lips at a consistent rate. 

Ominis stood from his chair, stepping over the fallen idiot and plopping down onto the chaise lounge to their left, a book floating into his hand with the flick of his wand. “I think the entire student body would thank you for that.” 

The blond laughed at the incredulous noises of his companion, leaning his head to the left quickly as Sebastian’s boot flew through the air right where he once was and smacked into the pillar just beyond. The taller Slytherin got up from the ground, muttering obscenities under his breath as he limped over to where his shoe landed, taking the time to lightly smack the blond on the back of the head before rounding the space and throwing himself on the other lounge chair diagonal to the opening of the Undercroft. 

“You’re an arse, do you know that?” 

Ominis smirked downwards towards his book, lethargically licking his finger before flipping to the next page with gusto. “Oh yes, I pride myself in it. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m only one to you— I’m quite nice to everyone else.”

Once his boot was securely back on his foot, Sebastian pulled out his pocket watch from his waistcoat; he checked the time, glancing in confusion at the gunmetal gate entrance of their secret space. 

“Hey, have you seen our charge today? They’re normally down here by now.” 

Ominis scoffed, a blank look crossing his face and a sardonic bite taking over his tone. “Do you ever think before you speak?” 

Sebastian met his gaze with a blank look of his own. “Where’s the fun in that?” 

The blond sighed deeply, raising a hand to his face and waving it in front of his unseeing eyes. “No, I haven’t ‘seen’ them today, nor have I heard from them.” 

Lifting himself to a seated position, the brunette’s brows scrunched together in puzzlement, slight worry tipping the corners of his mouth into a frown. You normally met them in the Undercroft after dinner so they all could hang out until curfew. Today, though, you were missing. Sebastian couldn’t remember if he had seen you today at all, come to think of it. You were supposed to have potions with him, but in his hazy memory he remembers that your stool was empty. Where were you? 

He turned his gaze back to the other Slytherin, confusion and concern lacing his tone as he spoke. “I haven’t either. Should we go search for them? They normally owl us if they’re going on a mission.” 

Another sigh. “Sebastian, I’m sure they’re fine. They’ve bested practically the whole wizarding world in a duel at this point— they can handle themselves. Let’s just have a quiet night, yes?” 

The Sallow boy threw himself back onto the chaise with a huff, his hands folding together and smacking against his abdomen. He knew that you were more than capable of taking care of yourself— he had seen it in action. Still, the knowledge of your fighting prowess did little to alleve his nerves. Each of the trials the Keepers were sending you on got more and more difficult— more dangerous. The thought of you getting hurt, or even worse, dying, made him feel ill. Ominis felt the same, they had talked about it before, but he was better at hiding it. Even now, though, Sebastian could see the telltale bounce of the blonds leg from nerves out of the corner of his eye. He was just as worried about you. You had told them all about the trials after they had stumbled upon you in the Undercroft a few weeks ago, bruised and bloody with at least five Wiggenweld potions scattered around you, as well as some gauze. Instantly the both of them had asked, nay insisted, that they go with you for safety, but you shut them down quickly— the trials were for you and you alone, no outside help. They reluctantly agreed to let you handle them, but they certainly weren’t happy about the arrangement, not in the slightest. 

The two sat in silence for a while, their eyes drifting every so often over towards the Undercroft gate like you’d step through any moment. Worry began to claw at their throats like a rabid animal begging to be let out of a cage. Ominis’ leg had picked up speed around the five minute mark, no longer paying attention to the book in his lap and instead turning his ears minutely towards where you would hopefully be coming from soon. Sebastian was right, you would normally send them a letter if you were going to be out for the day— you knew how they worried about you. Silence seemed to spread around the room like a thick fog, its tendrils wrapping around the boy’s heads and slithering into their ears, leaving an unnerving ringing behind. They were getting antsy, anxious energy pouring from them in waves.

Just as they were about to move and suggest looking for you again, a loud, deafening boom rang through the room. Crates tumbled to the ground with a crash as the ground rumbled below their feet. It was like the earth below them, below the entire castle, was breaking apart piece by piece. Paintings fell from the walls around them, tables shook and tipped over, school work and books spilling across the floor in rivers. Sebastian sprang from his seat, sprinting across the small space and throwing himself next to a shaking Ominis, his arms wrapping around the blonds head to shield him from falling debris. The tremors continued for what felt like years before everything halted in their tracks— silence filling the room once again and only breaking around the heavy, panting panicked breaths that left the two boy’s lungs. They slowly de-tangled themselves from the other, their gazes lifting up from the ground to take in the damage around them. Dust covered every surface, clinging to their clothes and hair and dyeing everything a light grey. 

Ominis spoke first, his voice whispering like he was afraid that if he broke the calming quiet everything would start all over again. “Are you alright?” 

Sebastian sighed shakily, his heart hammering in his chest as he grabbed the blond's hand and squeezed. “Yes, I’m fine. Are you?” 

He nodded. “What was that?” 

“I have no idea. Sounded like it came from under the school— an earthquake maybe?” 

Ominis shook his head, dust lightly falling from his hair and brushing against his shoulders. “In these parts? At this time of the year? Unlikely.” 

Sebastian furrowed his brows once again. “Then what could it be? Should we go check—”

The brunette paused, his blood running cold in his body as his skin turned a ghostly white as sudden realization hit him like a speeding broom. Ominis seemed to have come to the same conclusion, his hands shaking at his sides as they both turned towards each other, brown eyes meeting milky blue in barely hidden fear. Only one thought passed between the both of them: you were out there somewhere. 

The room began to shake again, the stone floor trembling with stronger aftershocks as more things began to slam to the ground around them. The duo quickly jumped up, their arms covering their heads from falling debris as their legs carried them as fast as they could go towards the exit and up the stairs towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts hallway. They quickly scrambled through the cabinet door, slamming it shut behind them as their feet nearly slid out from under them on the smooth tile floors of the main floor. Professors were running around, herding students left and right and ushering them towards their common rooms for safety. Sharp corralled them both, blocking their path from the rest of the school and their mad dash to find you amongst the chaos, and shoved them in the direction of the Slytherin common room, only turning away to look for more lost souls as the two boy’s got swallowed by waves of green and silver robes. Sebastian desperately fought against the stream of students, throwing elbows left and right as he swam towards the front and towards, what he hoped, was freedom from the crowd. A sharp cry came from his left and he shot his head in that direction, barely catching the sight of Ominis’ blond head as it disappeared in the hazard of students. His hand darted out, catching his friend’s shoulder before he could be trampled and pulled him to his side where he would be safe, clutching onto him like a lifeline in a storm as they were carried away, down the Grand Staircase and into the dungeons. Once safely inside, the ornate serpentine door slammed shut behind the students, bathing the room in startling silence once again.

The rumbling was muted this far under the black lake, only the sound of murky water splashing against the large bay windows of the common room filled the large, encompassing space. Students milled about, some retiring to their bedchambers while others sat on the various surfaces spread around the room. Tense whispers filled the air, questions and theories about what was happening swimming in everyone’s minds and entering through their eagerly listening ears. 

“Was on the moving stairs when it started, I was. It was quite funny watching all the paintings scramble from their frames before they fell.” 

“What do you think is happening? It seems to be coming from under the school.” 

“I saw all the Professors run towards the Astronomy wing. What do you think they’re looking for over there?” 

“Weasley had something in her hand before it all started— a bit of parchment. Looked as pale as the Bloody Baron after reading it. Wonder what it said?” 

“I heard one of the Ravenclaw's say they saw some goblins over by the east wing. Do you think they have something to do with all of this?” 

“Do you think they’ll cancel finals if half the castle is destroyed?” 

The two fifth year boys stood apart from the crowd. Sebastian paced the length of the room, going back and forth a number of times, wringing his hands in front of his chest and worrying on his bottom lip with his teeth. Ominis sat on the bench in front of the large floor to ceiling windows, elbows bent atop his knees and long fingers wracking through his normally perfectly styled hair. Anxiety oozed from them like a poorly made potion seeping out of the bottom of its cauldron. No one had seen or heard from you before or after the chaos. They had to get back to the Undercroft— it was the best place to wait for you. The brunette caught bits and pieces of the conversations flowing around the common room, and each one set his nerves alight just a little bit more. Astronomy wing? Goblins? Oh Merlin. He knew, whatever was happening had to do with Ranrok. If it had to do with Ranrok, then you had to be there too. Sebastian spun towards his friend, quickly pacing towards him with determined steps and nearly throwing himself onto the bench to the blonds left. He leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, just low enough so no one else would hear. 

“Ominis, we have to get out of here. If we get back to the Undercroft, we can wait for them there. They know we’d be there.” 

The smaller Slytherin inhaled deeply, his body shaking with tremors stronger than those rocking through the castle. “How are we going to get out? The room is packed— there’s no way we could sneak out undetected.” 

The brunette hummed in thought, placing his hand on Ominis’ knee to steady his nervous jittering. It was up to him to come up with a plan, the room was much too loud for his companion to think clearly— multiple stimuli overwhelmed him easily. He racked his brain for a solution, every thought coming in small glimpses around the unending worry he felt for you. They’d have to be invisible to get out of the common room, there was no way another student wouldn’t see them leave.

A lightbulb sputtered to life in his mind. 

Oh. Oh. That would work. 

He squeezed the blonds knee before letting go and grabbing his wand from his robes. “I have an idea, follow my lead.” 

Sebastian cast the disillusionment charm around himself quietly, watching his fingers and legs disappear into a slight trick of the light. Ominis nodded, doing the same to his right. They both stood as quiet as mice and made their way through the throngs of silver and green clad students, dodging and weaving around flying limbs before all but running up the grand spiral staircase and skidding to a halt outside of their common room door. 

An eerie hush fell over the still castle dungeon. The rumbles had quieted down enough, only a soft vibration making its way through their shoes and shaking their bodies instead of the intense tremors that shook the building moments earlier. That had to be a good sign, Sebastian mused. 

They both took off towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts wing, their legs pumping as fast as they could go. The setting sun cast shadows across the floor, catching on each piece of debris and drawing the brunette’s attention to just how much damage had been done. Sebastian grabbed Ominis’ hand, pulling him along and calling out obstacles in their path. They leaped over fallen pillars, dodged around scattered armor, and slid around corners, their shoes loudly squeaking on the linoleum floor and nearly sending them tumbling into walls with their haste. 

Finally, they made it to the hidden cabinet leading to the school's underbelly. The blond threw himself against the door, unlocking it with a flick of his wrist and all but shoved the brunette down the stone steps. With a loud crack, the metal gate clipped shut behind them. They both heaved over, their bodies folded in half as their hands grasped onto their knees. Heavy breaths left their lungs from the exertion, sweat beaded on their brows from the heat of their bodies as well as from the intense nerves that shook through their bodies. Sebastian stumbled over to the table they sat around earlier, picking up one of the wicker chairs that had been knocked over from the ground and plopping himself down into it. Ominis collected himself, rolling his spine back into a standing position before beginning to pace. Each second of taciturnity filled his gut with more and more hysteric energy. His mind was going at the speed of light, horrible images of what fate could be befalling you slid behind his eyes like a demented moving picture show. All of his reserve flew out the window with the rest of his carefully curated apathetic coping mechanisms. His hands pulled at his hair, fingers digging into his roots and sending spikes of pain through his skull. The brunette carefully watched him from his vantage point, his eyes following each step of his companion as he made his way across the length of the rather large room. He could see the silvery tears that began to gather in the blond's eyes from his intense fear and called out to him in what he hoped was a calming voice. 

“Ominis please sit down, you’re only going to work yourself into more of a panic if you keep pacing like that. They’ll be here soon— everything will be fine.” He cringed at the tremors that were present in his words, hoping the young wizard didn’t notice it. 

The other boy turned towards the sound of his voice, quick as a whip, his eyebrows crinkled at his brow in dread and hands flailing around punctuating his snapped words. “What if they don’t, Sebastian? You heard the others in the common room, there were bloody goblins near the school! You know just as much as I do that that could only mean Ranrok is here. He’s probably the reason for everything that’s happening, and if he’s here that means that they’re down there, wherever in Merlin’s name there is, with him! They could be dead in some unknown tomb under the school and we would be none the wiser!” 

Blinding, distressed anger struck down Sebastian’s spine as he stood from his slumped position. He snarled towards the smaller of the two, “Don’t you dare even say that. They’re not dead, they can’t be. Don’t even put that idea into the universe!” He could see the blond flinch at his harsh tone, his hands moving to wring together. The brunette sighed deeply, willing his heartbeat to slow down and his anger to disapparate. He carefully made his way towards Ominis, steps loud but gentle like approaching a startled animal, and placed his hand on the other's shoulder. He pretended it didn’t hurt him that he felt the boy stiffen under his touch. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you, but we can’t think like that. We have to stay hopeful.” 

The Gaunt boy relaxed slightly, his hands falling to his sides as he lowered his chin towards his chest. He sighed, “You’re right, it’s no use getting worked up. All we can do now is wait.” 

Sebastian carefully led him towards the lounge chair he was sitting on earlier, gently pushing down on his shoulders so he would relax into the plush cushions before joining him. He tilted his head back towards the ceiling, eyes closed as he silently prayed to whomever was listening that you’d return to them safely. 

***

The Undercroft filled with the sound of the large brass clock that resided in the Hogwarts clock tower, two loud clangs ricocheting off the stone walls that surrounded the space and filling the anxious ears of the two Slytherin’s that rested in its belly. Hours had passed since the tremors started; they long since puttered off and made way for the chilling quiet of the night. Both boys had not moved from their spot on the chaise lounge, each glancing longingly at the gate that led towards the castle hallways as they waited impatiently for their friend to return from what they could only imagine was a deranged war. They both fought valiantly against the sleep that clung to their bodies, each ticking second sending them closer and closer to sweet unconsciousness. They couldn’t sleep as long as you were still out there in Merlin knows what condition. 

Sebastian sighed for the umpteenth time, his hands running through his already unruly curls and sending them into all possible directions. His leg bounced at his side, the muscle flowing with his anxieties and only being released by the constant movement. Ominis stood once again from his side, shaking the sleep from his person and beginning to pace the space once again. He couldn’t keep still any longer, not when you’d been gone for so long. Blond tresses fell in front of his eyes from his incessant hands combing through it. He took deep breaths, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth in order to calm his rapidly pounding heart. The silence was driving him mad, every little sound that wasn’t you coming through the metal gate was like a bullet to his brain. He feared the worst for you— the idea of you leaving this world without a word made his chest feel like it was caving in on itself. 

The creak of the Undercroft gate broke both of the boys from their perturbed revelry. Sebastian sprung to his feet, head whipping to the side at the sound as Ominis spun on his heel and ceased his endless pacing as you stumbled through the doorway. 

The blond made a small sound in the back of his throat, relief palpable in the air around him. “Thank Merlin you’re okay, we were worried sick about you!” 

For a moment, everything felt still. Silence consumed the space, sucking all the air out of the room like the tide as a tsunami made its way towards shore. All Ominis could hear was the harsh ringing in his ears and the startled gasp from his counterpart behind him. Panic began to crawl its way into his throat once more. 

Sebastian’s heart stuttered in his chest, his words forcing themselves out around the lump that formed under his jaw. “Oh, dear God…” He breathed, his feet glued where he stood in shock as he took you in.

Ominis’ heart rate picked up exponentially. Tuning his ears to what was happening around him, he could hear the heavy breaths leaving both of his best friends with a renewed clarity. Your breathing was more stuttered than Sebastian’s, like you were struggling to suck in the air around you. Something was dripping lightly on the ground by your feet, the sound of its little plinks against the stone bounced around his skull like a small pebble skipping across the black lake. Pushing himself to focus more on the sound, the scent of copper filled his nose and sent a shiver down his spine. 

With a pained whimper, your legs gave out and you crashed to the hard ground with a resounding thump. 

Sebastian sprang into action, your noise of distress breaking him out of his stupor as he rushed over to your fallen form, calling out to the other boy in panic. 

“Ominis, get the Wiggenweld potions!” 

The blond stumbled over his feet, running towards the box in the far corner of the room that they filled with first aid equipment for moments just like this. The Sallow boy slid the rest of the distance between the two of you on his knees, arms outstretched to catch the top half of your body against his chest as the rest of your body gave in to gravity. He grasped you gently by the shoulders, moving your face into his vision and scanning you for injury. 

“What happened? Who did this to you!?” 

Your eyes were unfocused on his, black half moons coloring your bottom lids and the tops of your cheeks. Your voice was soft, barely loud enough for Sebastian to make out anything you were saying. He caught little snippets, mumbles of words like “Ranrok,” “repository,” and “Rookwood.” Blood dripped from a cut on your forehead, cascading down your incredibly pale face and staining the collar of your white button down. Your house cardigan was sliced open at the arm, showing a deep laceration stretching from the top of your arm to your elbow— Sebastian worried that if it was any deeper it would have hit bone. Your skin was almost grey from blood loss, your veins zigzagging under the flesh of your neck, chest, and arms like small strikes of lightning. He could see your knees through the rips in your trousers, the skin shredded and bruised, little bits of gravel dotting the wound like birth marks. One of your hands clutched your side, blood blooming through your fingers like a macabre rose bouquet. He carefully pried your fingers away to assess the damage and his breath caught in his throat, a sound of agony escaping from his open mouth. Through the hole in your shirt he could see multiple large, jagged slices in your side, each oozing buckets of blood. You winced as his fingers ran along your ribs, another groan of pain vibrating in your throat. He raised his eyes back to your face, irises dancing side to side as he tried to catch your gaze. Your entire body was shaking with adrenaline. He gently cupped your cheeks in his hands, forcing you to meet his piercing stare. His voice shook with dismay, the words leaving his mouth in a frenzy. 

“I need to look at your side, okay? I need to see how bad the damage is. Just nod if you’re okay with that.” 

You blinked slowly at him, a hand reaching out and wrapping around one of his wrists as you minutely nodded. Sebastian carefully took your hands into his and placed them on his shoulders for stability before unbuttoning the bottom of your shirt. His eyes were greeted with an enormous bruise, purples, blues, and blacks covering the skin of your lower left ribs and splintering out towards your chest. He sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth— you definitely had a few broken ribs. Your body began to slump against his, eyes fighting harder to stay open. He lightly slapped you on the cheek, frantically trying to keep you conscious. 

“Hey, hey! No you don’t, you need to stay awake. Stay with us, okay?” 

You laughed, wincing as your ribs shifted painfully, and smiled, your teeth stained a light pink from swallowing blood— you were absolutely delirious. “You should see the other guy.” Sucking in a deep, stuttering breath, your vision began to blur even more as your mind filled with numbing static. “I-I did it.” 

Sebastian took your face into his hands once again, watching you with bated breath. “What did you do? Please, what happened to you?” 

Your gaze focused on him finally, eyes softening as your smile stretched even wider. “I controlled it— the ancient magic, it’s inside me.” 

The brunette blanched, his brain needing a second to catch up with your words before he laughed incredulously, head shaking in disbelief. “We can focus on that later. Right now, we need to stop you from dying, okay?” 

Ominis appeared at his side, arms laden with as many potions as he could carry as he dropped roughly to his knees to your right. The oblong shaped vials clinked together as he haphazardly set them down on the ground, quickly drawing his wand and scanning you for any other injuries. Each pulse of his wand, each image blasted into his mindseye, sucked a little bit more color from his cheeks in horror. His hands hovered in the air next to your arm, shaking with barely contained terror as his mind fought whether to touch and comfort you or not touch you in case he hurt you even more.

His whole body vibrated, nerves completely shot to hell and his voice betraying every ounce of trepidation he held inside of him. "We need to get you to the infirmary! Why in Merlin's name did you come down here? You need a proper doctor, not us!" 

You shook your head weakly, your speech slurred as your head slightly lulled in his direction. "Knew you'd worry— had to make sure you both were okay..." A breath. "Wanted to be with you— to see you...one last time..." It was getting harder and harder to breathe— each breath felt like you slammed your lungs in a bear trap.

Sebastian shushed you softly, lips grazing the skin of your temple as he whispered into your hair. "Quiet now, save your strength. You're safe now, you made it to us." He cleared his throat, adopting as much determination as he could muster. "You aren't dying today, alright? We won't let you, you stubborn bastard."

He gently lowered you so you were laying on your back and your head rested against the cool ground of the Undercroft, pushing the hair sticking to your temple back so he could clearly see your eyes. In his haste to move you, he didn’t notice that they were closed. Your breathing left your parted lips at a dangerously slow rate; your body finally giving out from the intense pain pulsing through your system. White hot panic screamed at the front of his skull. 

“Hey! What did I say? Stay with us, dammit!” 

You didn’t budge. 

“Shit. Shit!” 

Uncorking one of the potions, he pressed it against your lips with one hand and tilted your chin back with the other, whispering prayers for you to wake up as the bitter liquid slid down your throat. Ominis bit his lip hard, muffling the hysterical pants that threatened to leave his lungs. The taste of his own blood filled his mouth as it steadily dripped down his throat. He pressed his fingers against the pulse point on your neck, feeling for your heartbeat. It was soft, but still there.

The blond grasped one of your hands in his while the other still held his wand, coasting the tip of it over your body like he did to the chessboard hours before to check the status of your injuries. Your fingers were so cold. 

Nodding towards the brunette, unseeing eyes never leaving your body and voice shaking, he shouted, “Give them another one!” 

Sebastian pressed a second potion to your lips, watching it flow down your open throat as color began to return to your cheeks. His heart continued to slam against his ribs painfully, threatening to break out from under his skin. 

The skin around your arm began to lace itself back together, the large cut that resided there turning into a barely raised scar— the same happening to the slice on your temple. 

Another potion.

The bruising around your naval began to disapparate, the skin around your ribs painting itself to match the rest of your complexion. 

He gave you the last of the potions, watching as the final scars of your battle stitched together and solidified at your side. Your flesh was red and angry around where the wound was, raised and burning to the touch, but no longer gushing enough blood to feed a small army of vampires. 

Both boys held their breath as they waited for your eyes to open once again, each one counting the seconds that you remained unconscious. The space behind their eyes began to sting with unshed tears. Dread nestled itself in their chests and spread through their entire bodies like a wildfire, both fearing the worst— that you wouldn’t wake up, that the potions didn’t help, that you were still dying. 

“Please don’t leave us. Not yet.” Sebastian whispered, leaning down and pressing his forehead against yours. His voice cracked with sorrow. 

After what felt like a century, your eyelids fluttered open and you took in the world around you. The taller Slytherin leaned back so he could catch your gaze, breathed a heaving sigh of relief, tears gathering in his lashes and streaking down his cheeks as he gave a weak, watery chuckle. He brushed his fingers through your blood slicked hair, a soft smile tweaking the corners of his mouth. 

“Hey, stranger. You scared us there for a second.” 

You smiled up at him, eyelids slitted but finally open, finally alive. “Can’t get rid of me that easily.” You croaked, your voice raspy. 

A harsh sob left their blond companion, his body finally slumping around the tautness he held since you entered the room. He rolled onto his back, legs thumping against the ground below as he brought his hands to cover his face, tears of pure, unbridled joy leaking through his fingers and wetting the dusty floor as light relieved laughs and muted curses spilled from his lips. 

“You both are going to send me to an early grave, I’m sure of it.” 

Laughing to himself, the brunette gazed down at you, his thumb lightly tracing along your cheekbone. “Let’s get you to the hospital wing, yes? Then you can tell us all about what happened.” 

You nodded against his hand, letting him pull you up to your feet and wrap his hand around your waist. Ominis stood with you both, doing the same on your other side after pressing a careful kiss to your hair, squeezing your hand in his. 

Safely tucked between your two boys, the three of you made your way out of the Undercroft and into the hallways of the castle you saved— the castle you called home.

***

like what you read? here's more!

[buckyarchives]

Metal Arms and Short Skirts [Drabble]

summary: you and bucky run into a small bump when he brings up kids.

word count: 6k

author note: i, personally, have a strong hatred towards the “girlboss has tradwife ephihany after meeting a man” trope so here is me doing the complete opposite

second (sober) note: i wrote, edited and posted this stoned as fuck so tell me if you like this more than usual fics so i can make a note to write high more often

read on AO3 | masterlist

It was a well-known fact after two years into the relationship that you and Bucky were the ‘it’ couple, both inside the compound and outside. Especially due to the rise in the avenger’s popularity, your hobby of walking red carpets and mingling with the rich and famous (you’ve even been over at the Kardashian for dinner once — yes, Sam was beyond upset he didn’t get an invite) helped with that fact too. Many times have you brought Bucky along as your plus one, so much so that he started getting invited and being plastered on magazine covers and Twitter feeds.

So when the news - no, rumors of a breakup came out? Dear god, Nick Fury would have thought the world was ending. 

no one was sure what happened, and no one saw it coming either. you guys had been absolutely thriving since announcing it officially. Steve saw a complete difference in Bucky’s demeanor, he still wasn’t the old Bucky — but a new, healthy, and not despair ridden. He was happy. and maybe Tony wasn’t happy about it in the beginning, considering he saw himself as a sudo-father figure. He couldn’t deny you seemed happier with life, your work sure shows it. 

Natasha noticed it first when Bucky's shoulders sagged more and he was spending more nights in the compound instead of your apartment. as well as the continuous night eating and sleeping in. Then, Wanda, she gossiped a lot. about good and bad, so when you skillfully began to avoid the man in every conversation. she began to realize something was wrong.

Soon everyone noticed it. because once Bucky's depression turned to blind hatred and his sparring partners (Sam) were getting beaten a little too hard. snide comments were being made and he just became a genuinely unpleasant person to be around. Sam and Steve more than jumped to find out what the hell happened.

Wanda and Sam stood before the stove, flipping pancakes and eggs. The morning hue showed on everyone’s face and hair. Natasha's red hair looks wild in her messy bun, if you can even call it that. She sat next to Steve, trying not to publicly flirt since their relationship started to flourish. mostly not to miss Bucky off too. 

and Bucky sat hunched over like an old and angry man, shoveling bacon into his mouth with the seemingly permanent scowl he’s worn for the past few weeks.

they had a loosely put-together plan to figure it out, but Wanda couldn’t help but slip up out of frustration, she missed the days when you sleep over and join them on their team breakfasts. “what happened to breakfast at y/n?”

Bucky visibly flinched at your name, his breath hitching in his throat and almost choking on his bacon. they had danced around the subject of you once figuring out the obvious separation, your appearance at the compound got less and less to the point someone would think you got transferred somewhere else. 

Sam sent a surprised glance towards Wanda, whilst all other eyes were on Bucky as he gaped his mouth open and tried to find a response. Steve was practically on the edge of his seat after not getting a word of you from Bucky for weeks.

clearing his throat, and gulping down both water and his nerves. “we’re not on good terms right now.”

“Well, if that wasn’t obvious” Natasha murmured under her breath, focused on her food. Bucky sent a glare out of the corner of his eyes. rolling his eyes, he threw the now empty plate into the sink. not wanting to be bothered by the looks of the other, he headed for the door.

“ah! not so fast, tin man. we have some serious stuff to talk about.'' Tony popped up from literally nowhere and stood before the exit, blocking Bucky from leaving the kitchen and to his room or the gym.

“move, Stark. I'm going on a run.” Bucky said - a lie - he was most likely wallowing in self-desperation in his room.

“Wake up on the wrong side of the bed, honey?” Tony snarked.

Bucky went to shove his way around him, but then Tony stepped to the side and suddenly the common room was on lock down and the door slammed shut in front of his face.

“no one is leaving this room until I figure out what happened to you and y/n, and fix it,'' Tony said, taking a seat with an annoyed and almost angry face. Bucky’s jaw clenched as he stood awkwardly, half of the avenger's eyes on him, staring at his feet. “because my best worker is lacking in worK and most important — trying to leave the company.``

“What?” the brunette's head pops up, as well as everyone else’s in the room. a matching concerned face was shared through the avengers, wilder on Buckys.

“she won’t tell me why, but I can only assume it has something to do with you so don’t mess up my life anymore and tell me why.'' Tony lectured, the usual blind and comedic annoyance turned to actual anger towards Bucky as he explained. Then everyone soon realized you weren’t just distancing yourself from Bucky, but everyone and it hurt Tony - someone who (despite popular opinion) actively tried to keep the family together at all cost. because he was losing one of his longest friends now.

“He's right, man. we’ve all noticed how this thing has affected you.” Sam spoke up, much more concerned than tony.

Bucky noticed all the eyes on him, stripping him down and making him feel seen and vulnerable. he felt small. Bucky huffed disappointingly as he shuffled to the small couch in the common room. falling dramatically on it as he clenched his jaw, “y/n and I have come to some… disagreements about…” Bucky's words were slow and shaky, trying to figure out how to describe what happened. “our future together so we’ve decided to see other people.”

glances were shared of confusion and concern, and Bucky’s gaze stayed glued to the air. He really, really did not want to talk about this. it sends a cold and painful chill down him that aches.

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Tony shouted, still frustrated and mentally done with Bucky’s grief spared attitude. He just wanted you back at work and happy again or he’ll try choking out a supersoldier today.

“It means she broke up with me, okay?” Bucky choked out, not wanting to dwell on you anymore. 

“But why?”

Bucky groaned, “because we had a disagreement!”

“About what?” Tony shouts back, growing more and more frustrated as Bucky dodges the real question.

Bucky shot up, beginning to grow frustrated as well. He yelled, “I can't tell you if you're going to yell and look at me like a caged animal!”

“Okay, boys. Tony chill, Bucky - sit and just explain to me what happened." Natasha shot up and nudged herself in between the two, breaking up whatever brawl was going to happen.

Bucky was so drained mentally and depressed that he just plopped down and sat next to Natasha, Natasha gave bucky such a warm comfort he didn’t fight against it, he felt safe enough to talk about this with her (and maybe more if Sam, Steve or Wanda didn’t continue to stare down his neck as Bucky mustered up any words)

“I brought up our future… kids and marriage.” bucky started, “and we disagreed on a few things, and it sparked an argument. We both said some very hurtful things and we decided to end it, or at least a break.”

“Like officially breaking up?” Natasha asked.

Bucky wore the pain he felt on his face, he just missed you and felt speaking it out loud would give it a mouth, and then he really would never see you again. “I don’t know, maybe? We were too busy yelling at each other to figure that out.”

“Okay, “ Natasha breathed out, Sam and Wanda were quick to join the impromptu therapy session. Bucky was glad it was them rather than someone like Tony or Thor. The one time Thor gave Bucky relationship advice it was along the lines of having an orgy because “it builds trust and passion.” or something along the lines of that.

“Have you talked to her since?” Wanda asked, approaching the topic gently as he sat across bucky with soft and understanding eyes. Realizing he should have brought this up sooner with the group rather than his therapist, the girls came to him with a much more understanding and comforting approach.

Bucky shook his head shamefully, “the morning after the argument, she said she wanted space and to possibly seek out other people. Told me to explore other options.”

Everyone shared confused looks, either bucky was lying through his teeth or something really weird had gotten into you. None of this sounded like you, “what type of disagreement did you two have for her to come to that?'' Sam perked up.

“Um, well.” Bucky's head fell down as he fidgeted with a loose string on his shirt. “I brought up having kids, and other things like marriage and moving in together, but mostly kids. She didn't want it and I don't even know how the argument started but we were both really frustrated and tired and it did. By the end of it it seemed she practically gave up on us because our idea about the future looked different and now- now, I don't know how to fix it.”

Bucky's voice croaked a little toward the end, showing how absolutely hung up he was on the possibility of losing you. Since the gala he's known that you were it for him, the one secure thing he could come back to at the end of the day and you were stripped away from him so abruptly. 

It didn't help that fact Bucky was very adamant about having a family, since he technically doesn't have one anymore. Not blood anyways, so eventually retiring and starting a family was one of the most important things to him now that he was free.

“She did always says she wasn't going to have kids,” Tony mumbled under his breath, but Bucky heard it and it definitely did not help his mental state.

“Anyways, by the end of it - we both said very hurtful things and I don't think she wants to speak to me right now.” Bucky sighed.

“Did you apologize?

“She hasn't given me a chance to yet,” Bucky admitted, he tried to – not very well. But you've done more than enough to avoid it, it hit bucky in the chest like a spear. So far you were trying to transfer to San Diego and work for Pym. And everyone knew Hank would be more than pleased with the idea of that, so yes - it scared Bucky to death that he was slowly losing you.

Everyone sat silent for a moment, unsure of where to go from here as it seemed Bucky had hit a brick wall with you. Everyone knows how stubborn you can be.

“You are all a bunch of idiots.”

A low and raspy voice snarked from the doorway, and a blonde archer stood with a less than disappointed look as he leaned against the wall.

“How’d you get in here?” Tony perked up. 

Clint decided to ignore the questions, “you’re asking advice from a bunch of single people, a girl who's dating a literal toaster, and don't get me started on Pep and Tony's dynamic. I am the one happily married person with kids on this team.” 

Everyone was left dumbfounded as Clint continued his speech, striding in front of the slouched and sorrow-filled Bucky Barnes, leaning down with his hand on his knees to meet Bucky's face. 

“Do you love her?”

“Yes.” bucky quipped like it was second nature.

“Like, really, really love her. Like take a bullet for her or have to snake the drain every 2 weeks love her.”

Odd questions but Bucky already was snaking the drain frequently for you, for a doctor-engineer you were weirdly squeamish. And Bucky knew he'd step in front of a bullet for you with absolutely no thought, and that didn’t even scare him, as long as you were safe. 

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Clint's voice rose and fell stern, almost in a lecture-type voice he'd only heard from a mother. “Snap out of it, get off your ass, buy her flowers or something, and go get her. Because you are losing her every second you don't.”

“But I don't know how to fix it.'' Bucky realized he was starting to sound whiny and desperate now, but he felt it inside too. He was a complete mess, and Clint was going to shake it out of him one way or another.

“God, you really need help. How have you survived these two years.” Clint mutters, “you compromise! That's like 60% of keeping a long-term relationship. Communicate and compromise, if you love her that much you will do that.”

Bucky felt stupid now, but maybe he would have tried that out earlier if he had the chance. “But she's made it very clear she doesn't want to talk to me.”

“Doesn't matter, she's had three weeks of space and I'm sure the one thing she's waiting for is for you to seek her out.” Clint explains simply like he's gone through the situation before. “I don't care if she’s already found a new place in California, go to her and beg for forgiveness for whatever hurtful things you said and just. Talk.”

Bucky carded a hand through his brunette locks, his hair was getting grease from simply being too depressed to shower and letting his emotions out on the poor punching bag in the gym. He nodded slowly, hyping himself up in his head to do exactly what Clint was explaining. 

“Okay, I'll find her and talk.” was all bucky could say, he still had a lot of thinking to do.

“And shower first, please. You smell like a dog.”

Bucky just nodded. 

/

Three weeks ago.

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to bring this up now, Bucky had just gotten back from a 2-week-long mission, and being stuck with a fake identity with Sam in Tokyo had made him beyond frustrated but equally happy to come home to you. Bucky didn't know it then, but you'd been working yourself to the wit's end after the new discovery of nanotech between you and tony. Many nights were spent up late and awake early, since Bucky wasn't there to drag you to bed and away from the lab.

But, It's been on Bucky's mind for a moment now, on the tip of his tongue every time he got a moment alone with you. And now as he sat across from you, the kitchen light shining down on you as you went through the new research on nanotech. Your eyebrows furrowed as you concentrated on the words, gently tugging at your bottom lip. Bucky let himself watch you for a moment before bringing up the topic that's hovered over him for the past couple of months.

“Baby?” he stared, your head perking up towards him.

“Hm?” you hummed, closing the file to put your full attention on bucky.

He fidgeted with his thumbs nervously under the table, licking his lips before starting. “We’ve been together for a while and I was just wondering about something…”

You instantly put on a defensive face, many assumptions swirled in your head about what he could be alluding to. Many things but all you knew is that it was going to be a hard conversation to have. “Yeah?”

“I was thinking about trying for kids, you know? If that's something your able to do…” Bucky spoke slowly and cautiously, this was the first time he’d seriously brought this up. Only a few jokes were shared about kids' names and how you'd raise your children, always lighthearted and mostly unserious.

You gulped, unsure of how to exactly approach this topic with bucky. You knew his stance on family and how important that was to him, “yeah, I can get pregnant. but, I'm not too sure about kids, buck.”

“Why not?” Bucky asked innocently, he didn't mean to sound pushy even if it may have translated like that towards you.

“I- I don't know, I just don't think that'd be good for us right now.” 

Bucky tried to bite his tongue, but that had never worked in the past, especially not now. “I think it'd be nice, you don’t want a mini us running around?”

In truth, you were beyond tired, you had been barely keeping your eyes open as you read. Your hazy mind was caught off guard by such a question, especially after work has been so hectic for each of you. Bucky was either away on a mission, or you'd be in the lab or flying out for research and meetings. Barely anytime for each other right now and suddenly, Bucky asking to start a family now?

Frustrated, you sighed. “I didn't say that - I know how important family and kids are to you but I just don't know if I can do that.”

“You don't have to agree because I want to, it's your body – you do what you want.” bucky shot back, growing equally frustrated, he started to regret the timing of this conversation but he opened the pandora's box and he wasn't sure how to close it now. “It was just a suggestion.”

The attitude and words left your mouth before you could even understand how harsh it was, but you were working with half a brain right now. “Well, it kinda feels like you're pressuring me into this, Bucky.” you huffed, abruptly getting up from your seat to put the files away. You'd had enough reading for the night.

“I'm not!” bucky quipped, almost instinctively following you around the apartment. “I just think we’ve been together long enough to seriously talk about our future.”

A headache began to grow and you just wanted to go to bed. “Well, I'm sorry but I can't give you the answers you're looking for, bucky.”

“I just wanted to at least talk about it together.'' Bucky pleaded, he was trying – at least. Yes, he was frustrated and equally tired but somewhere in his head was telling him to stop and finish this later, but maybe the desire of starting a family was too strong. 

He realized soon after he got his mind back that most of his bloodline was killed off by either the war or simply just died off by old age. He remembered the night he looked for nieces and nephews, hoping Becca got married and lived a good life. Only to find nothing and then truly realize he was alone at this time, Steve and you – sure. Maybe he was getting greedy but he wanted someone he could call real family.

But now he realized he shouldn't have pushed.

You threw your hand up, almost angry now as you shouted back. “I’m sorry, but I’m not 100 fucking years old and looking to reproduce right now!”

Bucky's face dropped, “really? You have to bring that shit into it.”

“Yes, because I have other things to be focusing on right now,” you yelled back.

“Like what?” Bucky argued back.

“My job!” you shouted like it was completely obvious, which it sort of was, and that made you even more angry that bucky couldn't see that.

“y/n, your net worth is nearing eight fucking figures! It's not like you're going to starve anytime soon!” Maybe Bucky was bitter, for many reasons. Growing up poor, and the feeling that sometimes you pay more attention to your work than bucky. “What about us?”

You stood back, mouth gaped and utterly taken off guard by bucky. Narrowing your eyes at him, “really? I cannot believe you actually said that.”

“I'm serious. I feel like I've been left in the dark recently and just want to know the endgame with us.” 

“Okay,” you snarked, “we finish this conversation and you figure out I can't give you what you want? What happened then?”

“I don't know but-”

You quickly cut him off, bitterness dripped from your words and your head grew hot from anger. “You find out I can’t give you kids, or marriage or I don’t turn into a 1940s fucking trad wife you expect out of me. What then? You gonna go find someone else?”

“I don't expect any of that out of you! And I don't want anyone else but you.” Bucky shouted, his hands shaking with nerves and anger at your jabs at him. Never expect you to bring up his more than unfortunate past. “Do you want that?”

“At this point, maybe! Because what's the purpose if I can't give you a life you're happy with?” you choked out and the fear that washed over Bucky was unreal, if what you're alluding to is true. 

Bucky's face scrunched up in anger, and confusion and his heart pounded in his chest and threatened to break. “Really? Are you really saying we need to end this?”

“I'm not going to continue a relationship if either one of us is unhappy, no amount of love can fix that crack, bucky.”

Bucky's breath hitched and he can only assume that his heart has broken now. He's been a hopeless romantic since his first crush in elementary. So the words coming from you hit him like a train - and he is not a fan of trains – and caused tears to threaten to spill as he bit back any further hurtful words. 

But the damn was broken and both tears and his words came out with no stopping, he scoffed. “It's great to know how much faith you have in us.” sarcasm and anger dripped from his words and equally hit each other like a knife. 

“Bucky–”

“No,” he croaked out, hurt and defeated by this argument. “I can't do this right now, I'm sleeping on the couch and we can talk about this tomorrow.”

Bucky didn't want to end it like this, you've had arguments before but never like this. Always fixing it before you could leave the room, never leaving words unsaid or arguments hanging unresolved. You two have never gone to bed angry with each other or worse – separated. 

And you let him snatch his pillow from your bed and leave the room, despite the urge to pipe up and ask to stay. But you were stubborn and held grudges, it was a well-known fact and one bucky had too. Which was the last way each of you needed to be acting right now.

Because as each of you woke, the tension in the air was thick and hurt like a fire. Bucky stayed in the kitchen making food for both of you and kicking himself as he heard you successfully avoid him for half of the morning by taking your sweet time getting ready.

It hit bucky like a knife when you shamefully stared him down, arms crossed and jaw clenched. Telling him that this was it and to see other people, he choked on the swarming thoughts and just held his tongue and nodded. Frozen in fear of actually losing you, unable to stop you from walking out the door and going to work.

You had the final word and Bucky cursed to himself as he left the apartment for what he thought would be the last time.

/

“I don't know. Hope.” you sighed, balancing the phone between your shoulder and ear. “I said some mean stuff, and buck wants a kid but I just can't do that right now.”

“I know, but are you really going to separate because of it? Not to be mean, but that seems pretty dramatic.” hope scoffed, slightly distorted as she spoke from the other line.

“He deserves a good and happy life though, after everything he's gone through. If kids and marriage and the white picket fence thing are what he needs, I just can't give him that.” you sighed, “I tried to go on a date with an old classmate, and he tried to kiss me. I felt like I was cheating somehow. I just kept thinking about Bucky.”

“Isn't that like a perfect sign to talk to him?”

“Maybe.” you sighed.

The past few weeks have been a little less than torture, bearable if you threw yourself into work but that also meant going to the compound where you would most definitely run into bucky. This is the last thing you need if you were trying to move on for him, it's for the better – you'd tell yourself at night when you were close to just calling him because you miss falling asleep in his arms. 

Work and money have been the top priority in your life since you got your first job working at a car garage at 15. It wasn't stopped anytime soon and the way bucky spoke made you feel as if he expected you to stop that for him. Which sounds selfish, yeah – but you knew how men thought back in the 40s and you were the farthest thing from that. Your mistake for thinking bucky would understand.

“Well, you know my dads been trying to steal you from Stark for years now so if you need that much space you have a job over here.” Hope offered, referring to moving to San Diego. You lived near the area for a while after college, you didn't like the hot weather and slowness of the city but stayed for work. It would be a sure way to stay away from Bucky and maybe get over him, but that commitment and sureness of it being all over scare you.

“Maybe, I'll think about it.” you rubbed your hand on your neck to soothe your anxiety and nerves, the thought of bucky recently had done nothing besides spring tears in your eyes.

Ding!

The doorbell rings through the apartment and snaps you out of your self-wallowing thoughts. “Hey, hope. I'll call you back.”

“Sure, y/n. Just send me a text if you want the position here, it's open to you anytime you want it.” Hope reassures. 

“Mkay, bye.” you bid your goodbyes and quickly hung up, taking a deep breath as you set your phone down on your bed. Your feed padded as you went for your front door, and whoever was waiting patiently behind it. You hoped it was your new self-indulgent purchase from Prada.

You experience something short of whiplash when you swung open the door, your mouth gapes and you swear you stopped breathing. Definitely not Prada.

Bucky had somewhat planned this appearance, with the help of Clint. He shaved a little, but not full because he knew you liked him with stubbled. His long hair was tucked behind his ears neatly and he wore that one blue sweater you bought him, your favorite. Bucky held your favorite flowers in one hand, a bouquet the size of your head by two. And in the other, if your nose was correct, your favorite food.

Oh, he's good, too good. 

You both stood awkwardly in front of each other, Bucky had to restrain himself from either bursting into tears or dropping everything to hug you as if his life depended on it. 

“Can we talk?” is what he settled on.

You nibbled on your bottom lip nervously, going over your options quickly. But everything in you was telling you to bring him in and never let go, despite how much it hurt. “Using my favorite food against me is cold, sarge.”

Bucky's heart ached and leaped at the nickname, being deprived of your sweet words for weeks did something to him. With a cheeky grin, he held up the pack. “Spicy Thai soup with shrimp. Just for you.”

It was way too hard to be mad at him when he was so attentive and so good-looking.

“Come in.” you sighed and moved out of the way to let him in. 

hesitantly, keeping you at arm's length as he walked in and set the food and flowers on the island. You watched him intensely, he kept his gaze away and bit his cheek. You settled down on a bar stool and watched as he found an empty vase in the pantry.

 With no words shared Bucky cut the ends and put the flowers in a vase of water to be displayed. A routine he knew by heart, getting flowers every week or so was normal and you didn’t realize how much you missed it until now.

You gritted your teeth, shame swelled in your stomach for pushing him away so aggressively, someone who loved so fiercely. You felt like you were going to hurl when his gaze met yours, he looked so sad. 

Looking down at the counter, not moving an itch. “I'm sorry for using the fact you're 100 years old against you.”

The phrase was so comedic and stupid that Bucky couldn't help but stifle a small laugh, it worked in his favor when he saw you bite back a small grin. How could he stay away this long? 

“I think it's actually 102 or 103, I lost count after 90,” he mentions, but you looked at him and his face fell seriously. “And I'm sorry for pressuring you to have kids, that wasn't my intention.”

You nodded, “I'll have kids with you, I want to. Just not right now.”

Bucksy face lit up and nothing could stop you from swooning over him now, biting back a grin as he spoke. “Really? I'm serious, you don't have to go through that just to please me.”

“I want to, I really do,” you reassured, taking deep breaths. “There's just so much going on right now and I panicked because it felt like you were asking that of me now, and I'm sorry for working so much and pushing you–”

Bucky sprung up with a more than sympathetic face and he cut you off by holding your jaw in his hands. You forgot how warm and welcoming his embrace was, you almost collapsed into him there. “Hey, don't apologize for being the badass, genius, hard-working woman you are.” he spoke with an adoring grin, “I shouldn't have put that against you.”

“No but you’re right, I've been putting Stark industries and my projects before you and I shouldn't be doing that.” you leaned farther into his touch. Chasing his comfort, bucky just smiled down at you because he missed this too much, being starved of you is high on his list of torture tactics. “And you are right about needing to talk about our future, it's just that…”

You trailed off, avoiding bucky’s eye contact again and nipping at your bottom lips from nerves. Bucky was quick to run a thumb across your lips to stop you and get your attention once more. His voice was unbelievably gentle and soft, “What is it? Come on, let's talk.”

“I know I don't talk about my family but my mom was a lot like me, you know? Workaholic, always trying to rack up the digits on her paycheck, lavish and indulgent lifestyle,” you explained and bucky was so attentive to your words - it took everything to not kiss him right there. You exhaled a shaky breath, “but then she met my dad and had me and she kinda stopped all of that. Stayed at home and got a small part-time job, letting my dad bring in all the money and there's nothing wrong with that! I could just tell she was miserable like that but kept at it because it was what my dad wanted.”

“Oh.” Bucky sighed, urging you to continue.

“And I think I took your words the wrong way that night and got scared of ending up like her, I know you wouldn't do that but I panicked and pushed you away because of it.” you finished and let your eyes travel to your lap, but bucky was having none of it as he urged you to look him in the eye. 

“Hey, I forgive you and I'm sorry for scaring you like that, but it's important to me that you know I wouldn't force that lifestyle on you.” bucky smiled, a tease to the end of his next words. “If anything, I'm trying to be a stay-at-home dad and live off your paycheck.”

You couldn't help but laugh at his statement, a smile growing from ear to ear. All the past emotions rushed out of you as a few happy-sad tears sprung to your eyes, chasing his embrace when you pulled him close and hid in the crook of his neck. Oh, how you missed his smell, “I love you, James.”

Bucky handheld your back as he pulled you even closer, he felt warmer than ever and smiled to himself. “I love you too.”

You stayed tucked in Bucky's arms for a while, you missed him too much to pull away right away. Bucky’s hand caressed your back as he soaked up your touch. Mumbling into his shoulder, “let's try not to fight over something stupid again and actually talk.”

“Agreed.” bucky nodded to himself, slowly pulling you back to peck your cheek. A mischievous grin fell on his lips that made you quirk an eyebrow.

“What is it?”

Bucky pursed his lips, “so no babies right now, correct?”

“Correct.”

“Okay,” he hummed, his hands falling to your waist and pulling you against him. “Then let's just practice for when we want to, yeah?”

“Bucky!”

/

Bucky's phone began to ring annoyingly from beside him, somewhere hidden in the couch cracks. Gently reaching over to grab it, not moving too much so he doesn't wake the sleeping beauty on his lap. 

After catching up on about 3 weeks of sex, a few rounds on the kitchen counter, and a few more on the couch. You both ended up half-naked and heating up the now-cold Thai food. Bucky was surprised it didn’t get knocked to the ground when he quite literally bend you over and fucked you hard on the counters. You both settled warmingly onto the couch and begged Bucky to watch Pixar movies, and of course, he couldn't say no. 

It was dark now and empty containers of food littered around the coffee table, getting fucked good and hot food sure can wear a girl out as you fell asleep on Bucky. probably the best sleep you've gotten since the fight. 

Steve was calling, definitely to check up on the talks. Bucky glanced back down at you before pressing accept, still sound asleep and slightly snoring. Bucky put the phone to his ear.

“So, how'd it go?” Steve asked.

Bucky wore a warm smile when he replied, gaze not leaving you. “Good, really good. We talked it out and it mostly boiled down to miscommunication.” 

“Just talked or?” Steve teased, something bucky wondered if the blonde could read his mind.

“Oh, zip it,” Bucky said, a chuckle coming from the other line. “I don't want to wake her, so I'll call you tomorrow?”

“Alright, don't get yourself into any more trouble.” 

“Don't plan on it, pal.'' Bucky bid his goodbyes to Steve and hung the phone up, throwing it to the side.

Bucky knew he had to wake you and get you into bed, clean up the apartment, and slip under the covers close to you. But for now, he was just enjoying the safety he felt with you in his arms, and not alone in the compound with you in California. It was more than true that you were it for him, and after getting a taste of what it was like to lose you. 

Well, he'd be damned if anything got in between you two now.

tags; @matchat3a @sebsgirl71479 @heavenswrld @ivywasmaroon

@nt-multi-fandom @michaelfuckinglangdon@fand0mskullfa1ry

@athenabarnes @almosttoopizza @genlovesdcb @mavrellover91

[ellekhen]

Of Silk, Sun, and Sparks

Chapter 2 - A Room With A View

Summary: Laundry day forces Church to make use of a gift from his betrothed, much to Astarion's smug satisfaction. But the tiefling's relaxing, sunlit evening in Waterdeep is about to get a lot more involved — and magical — thanks to the arrival of a dear friend.

Pairing: Astarion/Male Tav/Gale (w/established Astarion/Male Tav) Rating: Explicit Length: 6K+ words; Chapter 2/4

Excerpt below:

“Careful, Gale,” Astarion warns their friend coyly. “You don’t want to break him.”

Church whimpers as the wizard pulls off of him, running his fingers back through the hair fallen over his face. He looks reverently up at the tiefling, still stroking him with an unhurried hand.

“No, that wouldn’t be very much fun, would it?” Gale muses, wiping at his mouth. “Perhaps we should let him squirm a little longer.”

Church is torn — part of him wants to let the rolling, searing waves of pleasure continue forever. The other part is already absolutely agonized, seeking the release roiling inside of him. “Mhh, no, don’t let me keep you…”

“I don’t know,” Astarion murmurs into his ear, brushing his lips along the shell of it. “You do like to be kept, don’t you?”

Church yelps as Astarion hauls him fully onto the window seat. He kneels upon it face to face with Gale, his hands still restrained by the elf behind him. Church finds himself breathless and wide-eyed as Gale tilts his chin up. Gods, he wears a hungry look that the tiefling has only ever seen his friend reserve for ancient tomes during their adventures…

But Church finds himself hesitating, flicking his eyes pointedly to the side. 

“We are… very much in the window,” he utters, mortified at the wizard. “Um. Your neighbors probably wouldn’t…”

In an instant the wizard’s thumb is pressing upon his lip, and Church shuts up at once. Oh. Oh dear — this is very different. 

It doesn’t help as well that he can feel Astarion’s velvet skin and presence crowding up behind him, a long-fingered hand stroking unhurriedly along his ridged spine and all the way down his anxious tail…

“Did it ever occur to you that a solitary wizard might spruce up his place with precautions when it comes to privacy?” Gale asks — almost indignantly. 

Church blinks up at him, his mouth twitching up into a smirk. “…no.”

“Well!” Gale plucks at the Weave near the window’s glass, and the magical matrix ripples at his touch. “That certainly raises some questions for me,” he breaks character reproachfully, gesturing helplessly at Astarion. “…such as despite the fact you’re concerned now, your partner here has been quite colorful about how you two exhibitionists like to spend your evenings on this very window seat…!”

“Astarion?” Church lets out a mortified laugh, but he suddenly shudders and gasps as he feels the elf’s hips press flush against him, his hard length resting in an imposing line against the tiefling’s cleft. 

“Mm, yes love?” Astarion chuckles, pressing a lingering, teasing kiss to his back before pulling away. “Something the matter?”

[smolvenger]

A Court of Mischief and Purpose Chapter Five (Loki x fem! Reader, Hiddlesverse A Court of Thorns and Roses AU)

Chapter Summary: As you get to know the different variants of Loki, his purpose of uniting them is revealed. There is a crucial threat to your worlds...and you make a decision regarding Will.

Chapter Warnings: Discussions of cheating, and violence. Odin being Odin (tm). Some angst and some fluff/comfort.

Chapter Word Count: 6K

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr

Chapter One//Chapter Two//Chapter Three//Chapter Four

“Now, to our purpose!” Loki announced.

The last servant passed by the food. For breakfast, you learned that Norse Gods enjoyed foods similar to your own- only very hot and hearty. Eggs and thick slices of bread and butter. Not like the overcooked burnt bits your mother tended to make. You began to enjoy some. Though one servant did bring some coffee, especially for you. You smiled up at her and then she bowed and left.

Robert turned his head watching the door close. Then he turned back.

“Are the rumors…true?” Loki asked.

Robert sighed, “Only one of us can confirm that. It’s not my job to snoop around.” He picked up a piece of bread and munched at it.

He turned to Jonathan. Jonathan crossed his arms. He let out a deep sigh, retaining his frown.

“Yes, it is true as far as I can tell. Grendel and his mother have made an alliance with the Dark Elves.”

You nearly dropped your cup as you were lifting to have a drink.

“Grendel?! That’s the same name as…do you mean from Beowolf?” you cut in.

Jonathan turned to you with a nod.

“One and the same!”

You leaned forward, your eyes widening to Loki.

“Are you telling me that Grendel is real?! And still alive?! I thought Beowolf killed him and his mother!” you cried.

“You actually believe that poem? Hm, you’re a bookish girl, aren’t you?” Robert commented.

“Well, my lady, Grendel, and his mother turned out to be real…I was as surprised as you,” Hal said. He picked up another orange and began to peel it with his dagger.

Loki gave a wide smile and leaned toward you.

“I’ll be the one to explain, my dear. Long ago, Beowolf lost to Grendel in a fight. Beowulf fled with his tail between his legs and a few broken bones. He used his time recuperating from his injuries to write an entire poem about how he completely defeated Grendel easily. He spread it through his kingdom- so they all believed him! Why else would he write a whole, long poem boasting about how wonderful he is?”

Loki turned to Jonathan. He kept his fork and knife politely on the plate, cutting up his food and taking small bites. You could smell Hal’s orange as he set the discarded peel on the plate.

“In the taverns, those drinking and caroling sometimes mention Grendel. Only briefly. Most laugh and shrug it aside. But only a wise few are genuinely fearful. As they should be…”

Loki looked at all of them. The forks and knives stopped with the gravity of his voice.

“Grendel is a powerful being. Far more than the poem wrote. And far smarter. Gets it from his mother. Between the two of them, he’s determined to do what it takes to invade and rule all of us…and he is looking for ways to do it easily.”

“There is…another rumor…” Jonathan began. “But it’s something.”

Heads turned over.

“Well-what is it?” Robert pressed. He lifted his own drink and took a long sip.

Jonathan then set down his hands and folded them across the table. He looked seriously at every person there.

“They say there is a prophet…he resides in Jotenheim. He is one of the Frost Giants. But he has ancient knowledge. Of things that are, will be, and might be. I heard he might have…information. That Grendel has a weakness. Now- all that are rumors. But the prophet knows what it is. If we give him something, he will return the favor and tell us.”

“What sort of something?” Robert asked, arching an eyebrow.

“He accepts offers of food, of warmth.”

“Warmth? Ironic for a Frost Giant!” Loki commented.

You leaned forward. “But… and let's assume the worst-if Grendel has an alliance with these Dark Elves, whoever they are, I assume it means he has an army… How will any of you stand against an army?” you asked.

Loki tilted to you. He rested an elbow on the table and looked at you, resting his hand to rub on his chin.

“You are far from wrong. And do you think I would let these mortals near an army and ask them to defeat them all? No! We knew Grendel had a weak spot. If we located what it is and asked this prophet. That is our mission. To discover this weakness of his and take care of it. We get the weak spot, I doubt that the army will be behind him.

Loki turned to Jonathan.

“Do you have anything else to report from your spying?”

Robert Laing took out a cigarette. You could smell the smoke where he was. Hal then turned to Loki.

“I heard one thing. Now, I a spy? No! But I do hear that Odin plans on naming his heir. Perhaps going during the day of the ceremony will keep him distracted.” Loki froze. The corners of his lips twitched. He stared and blinked once. Then he frowned gently.

“That is…a good idea…I will be expected to go but…the rest of you may.

He swallowed. Something in his eyes dimmed - a sadness. Then he blinked rapidly and threw a hand up.

“Now, enough! Please, let us move on…where is Thomas?”

“Thomas? Yes- you mentioned another? Is he staying here too?” you asked.

In answer, in walked another gentleman. His clothes were not too far off from what men of your time wore. He looked a lot like Loki- an uncommonly handsome man with curly dark hair blue eyes and pale skin. In his arms were several contraptions.

“Please forgive the delay. A gear was spinning the wrong way!” he said.

He went over and sat down on the table. He flourished out a napkin and set it on his lap.

“Loki, we have been going and going…but if I’m going to find something to track him, I will need some magic to my devices, as you promised. I have been working at it all mo-”

His voice cut off. His eyes went to you. You gave him a smile and he gave a beautiful one back to you.

“Oh…we have a new guest?” he crooned.

Loki nodded.

“Thomas, this is the ever-charming Y/N- she hails from a small town in Essex. She’s another guest in the palace.” Loki introduced.

He nodded to you with his head, his eyes were so bright you felt something flutter inside you. He was a natural charmer.

“Why- Miss Y/L/N, the pleasure is mine. I am Sir Thomas Sharpe, esquire.”

“Sir?” you asked. “Are you a lord?”

“A baronet,” he answered.

“A Baronet! Then it should be mine! I am so honored- I never met a Baronet before!”

“Well, now you have, Miss Y/L/N,” he answered.

You curtsied excitedly and he smiled. You saw Loki frown at him. Something glimmering in his eyes. He began to fork at some eggs and eat. After he smiled, you turned to the baronet.

“What brings you to Loki?” you asked.

“I’m working on an invention for him. A contraption to find Grendel. He tends to hide a lot. I am sure that Loki’s magic could help. As well as anything to help with training,” Thomas explained.

You looked around.

“Training? For fighting?” you asked.

Loki nodded.

“It is a requirement of my little circle. We train to know how to fight. I do have my beloved daggers.”

With his magic, a dagger-long and sharp- appeared in his hand.

“But one must know how to wield them. Thomas and Robert must especially practice. Hal knows of battling with swords…”

Hal smirked.

“I was raised to be a warrior. Shrewsberry changed me.”

“And it is Jonathan who teaches sparring and the like. Far less elegant in my opinion. But it strengthens the body and gets the job done,” Loki added.

“You have…fought before, Mr. Pine?” you asked.

Jonathan sighed.

“Yes. I was a soldier. I’ve seen battles. Been part of many, in fact,” he replied calmly.

Robert tipped off the burning end of his cigarette.

“Just go to our time, Loki. Find a gun and just shoot Grendel!” he suggested.

Loki let out a laugh in spite of himself.

“If it was that easy, I would have done it! But Grendel has survived many years for a reason. I doubt a mortal bullet would scratch him.”

“I will say- training is an excellent workout. Far more exciting than any gym I’ve been to,” Robert replied.

You thought about it. You were…weak. You could see her again. See Cora again. Leaping about and running. Even with no bloody corset to prove how superior she was to the other women. But…strong. Getting dirty and going about in the muck and through forests and beaches. And was that why Will…lost interest in you? Betrayed you for a “stronger” woman? You felt a tear curl up on your face.

Robert turned his head.

“Y/N…are you alright?” he asked.

You wiped off the stray tear with your napkin and then asked on impulse.

“Could I join? Just for one?! I would like to train to fight too,’ you announced.

They all looked at you. You folded your hands back in your lap.

“I would like to train with you…to be…be strong. Please teach me how to fight like the rest of you!”

If you said such things back home, it would very, very, very likely be immediately shut down. You prepared for it. The verbal rejections. The rolling of eyes. Sighing. Even laughter.

There was nothing like that here. Loki then blinked and smiled.

“Oh…of course…if you would like to, you shall! I’m sure any help concerning Grendel would be appreciated, my dear.” Loki replied.

Your eyebrows shot up. Hal did squint a little, and then he relaxed. Jonathan was smiling and he nodded at you.

“Really? Do none of you have anything against women warriors?” you asked.

“No, not at all!” Jonathan assured you.

“There is one- Lady Sif! We must alert her- won’t she be thrilled! She fights alongside all of us!” Loki replied.

“Yes! Maybe…she could teach me too! We could use Thor’s help!” you suggested. You took a bite of a thick slice of bread.

But Loki shook his dark curls. His smile was melted. His jaw looked tight and his pale face turned slightly red. His voice came out as a slight snarl.

“No. Only as a last resort, I supposed. But you underestimate how much of a brute and dunce my brother is…”

You nearly choked out what you were eating.

“Thor a Brute?! Dunce?! Loki, you’re being very harsh on him!” you chided.

“Just wait and see-you will understand what he is really like!” Loki declared.

“Thor has been nothing but kind to me. What has he done to deserve these words?” you asked.

“You only just met him- I knew him all his life,” Loki argued.

“My fiancee is twice the brute Thor could ever be!” you impulsive declared.

There was such silence in the room one could hear a bug crawl. Robert tightened his lips. Jonathan ate his food quietly. Hal began rubbing a hand over his mouth as if hesitant to comment something. Then Loki relaxed.

“Well…we’re not here to discuss my brother…we’re here to discuss Grendel and replenish ourselves, let us move on, please.”

But Thor had been so kind, so friendly- A blonde Great Dane in human form. What would Loki have against him? But…wasn’t something about an heir mentioned earlier? Was that the great grudge Loki held against him? Yes, they were brothers. But sibling rivalry was always a thing. Thor never seemed to bully or belittle Loki. But that was only the few times you saw them interact.

Jonathan wiped his mouth with a napkin and then looked around.

“I hope all of you have enough to eat-we should resume training today right after breakfast…and Y/N, you will be with me. I’ll show you the basics of sparring,” he declared.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“So then! Let us begin!” Hal announced.

The training grounds were a courtyard. The sun shone warmly that day and there were leafy green trees fluttering in the wind. They provided ample shade. Loki and Hal were still in their normal clothes, though Jonathan’s look was far more casual. A simple shirt and pants that allowed movement (even if they did look a little odd to you). Thomas simply rolled up his sleeves. Then there was Robert’s outfit- a white shirt and very short pants. It was everything in you to hold yourself from staring at the exposure of his legs.

You were changed out of your normal dress into the athletic wear of your day. A shorter dark skirt that merely went a couple of inches above your ankles and a white shirt. You wore comfortable boots that would allow quick movement.

It began with warming up. You had to stretch and do jumping jacks. Robert grunted but did so easily. He had been doing this for a while. You were getting used to it. Robert could easily do several push-ups ups quickly. You could not. Your arms screamed as you tried to push yourself up and down from the ground.

Prince Hal went up to Robert, handing him the end of a practice sword. Loki stood by to observe them. Jonathan then went up to you.

“Would you like to know the basics of punching, Y/N?” he asked.

“Oh- yes, please! Please, Mr. Pine! I’ve…I’ve been weak all my life- but I’ll try!” you cried.

Jonathan shook his head.

“I don’t think you’re weak, Y/N,” he said.

“I’ve never…punched before….I bet it must be…”

“It’s not a matter of physical strength, it’s how you do it.,” Jonathan advised.

After he practiced a parry, Robert turned his head towards you two.

“Oh, Jonathan- we have to spar again! I will defeat you this time. Easily,” he bragged.

“Good luck,” Jonathan bit back.

In his distraction, the practice sword tapped his shoulder. Robert’s eyes turned big and he twirled around to Hal and Loki laughing at them. Jonathan rolled up his sleeves. He then went to you.

“Y/N, open your stance-like so,” he stood so his legs were a couple of inches apart. “Your dominant foot leads and the other goes to the back.

You did so. Just one little step. If you made them all little steps, it wouldn’t feel as bad.

“Now bend your knees a little-very good. Now make two fists. You put them to your face. If it’s quick-it’s a jab.”

Jonathan opened up his hand.

“Hit me very quick with your dominant hand-try it.”

Lightly as a tap, you tried a jab onto his hand. Jonathan smiled and nodded his head.

“Very nice! That’s one way to punch. Let me show you a way to defend yourself. Crough a little beneath your fists- it makes you a smaller target for them.”

You did as much as your corset would allow you. You couldn’t slouch, but you could bend your knees and lower your head with good posture. You peeked out at him from between.

“Now, throw twenty jabs with your leading hand, Y/N,” Jonathan instructed.

You punched his hand.

“Now harder,” he pressed.

You jabbed with more force. You felt the smack of skin against skin. You exhaled quickly and as quickly as you did.

“Now bounce between your feet…there…there you go-not punch my hand again- hard as you possibly can. ”

You thought of Will again. In your mind like a flash. The field. If their kiss was a picture printed on Pine’s hand. You punched harder. With such force, Jonathan took a few steps back.

“Excellent, Y/N he praised.

“I did good!?”

“Yes- see? You’re a natural,” Jonathan praised.

“A natural fighter?” you asked.

“I think you are-you just had to learn how. But it’s only your first day-it will take time, but if you want to, you’ll learn.”

You spent the two hours learning about about crossing. About hooks. He taught you combinations and you moved the punches with focus. It was a matter of repetition- doing it over and over again. But with the sun beating down and the demand of the exercise you sweated so much. You wanted to guzzle water. You wondered if you were going to pass out (again). The pain of your muscles being worked hard as you moved, begging you to stop.

But you pushed through and survived. More than survived- your body buzzed with life, with newfound soreness and strength. Though your hands were stinky and sweaty, tight from being in fists, you had done it. You had learned the basics of throwing a punch. You never felt so…powerful before. You couldn’t recall the last time you felt so.

Going back to your room. You saw that on the desk was the engagement ring. Still glittering. You merely sat in your chair to stare at it. Looking down at your sweaty hands, you noticed a mark on your finger from how often you wore it. It felt a little bit like your finger was naked. But here you were doing well without it. Could you have learned to punch with it on? No.

But there it was. Staring at you. Mocking you. You pushed it aside to see your beloved journal.

You had used it to write diary entries, but it was filled with so much more. You pressed flowers and photos and scraps of paper with recipes and doodles and memories-often happy ones. There was one photo on the first page that kept a special place in your heart. You and a few of the local women your age sitting on the beach for a picnic among friends. Everyone’s hair was swept by the wind and several of you kept a hand to keep your hats on. But everyone was smiling-big, genuine, happy smiles. Smiles such as the one caught when one was going to have a big, full-belly laugh. In the center was Stella, becoming as ever with her blonde braid draped to the side of her right shoulder and her bright eyes beaming full of life. It was the smile she made right before she was going to laugh. You had looked at the camera at the side and everyone had linked arms or shown off their plates of cake slices. The sand looked as light as snow and the sun was gentle that day. You put a hand over it to trace the edges and the inside, your fingers lightly touching down it as if to feel the happy memory on your skin.

You deliberately did not look at anything regarding Will. There was a page you had pressed the red rose he gave to you and a lock of his hair you both exchanged with each other when you got engaged. You gaped at it, your stomach dropping as you took it in along with his small photograph. Your eyes shot down to the white edges of the pages as if you could not have it in you to even look at him. You then forced the page to close to the next one.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You all were invited to dine with the royal couple the next day. You were thrilled. You never imagined being in the same room as Queen Victoria herself. Godhood was a different matter altogether.

Dressed in a dinner dress from your time in a rich blue with a bow on the breastline, you placed your napkin on your lap as you sat down. All of you all sat at that golden table. Pine was in his nice blue suit, Robert his grey one, and Hal in some dark satin with gold buttons. Everyone rose up to their seat as the royal family walked in. Odin was a man with long, white hair and a white beard. Frigga was always graceful, smiling, and comforting as always. Thor followed afterward, lumbering into his seat. Everyone took note and returned to their own. Servants filled goblets of wine and served large legs of chicken and more side dishes than you could count.

“How are you, lady Y/N? I heard you were here but I never saw you around. There was a rumor you were unwell, my dear-is it true?” Frigga asked, her voice soft with genuine concern.

“I have had…a recent difficulty…” you started.

Robert took a deep drink of his wine. Loki leaned forward, putting an elbow on the table and a hand over his lip. He watched you intently-willing himself not to speak.

“Oh dear- are you ready to speak of it or would you rather not?” Frigga asked, she leaned forward. The warm, full plate of her food was forgotten. Odin meanwhile immediately dug into his meat.

You nodded, bunching up the napkin on your lap like a handkerchief.

“I can speak about it... My betrothed was…he…uh, he betrayed me for another. I found their letters. Then saw them embrace.” you explained.

A hand flew to Frigga’s heart and her mouth formed a small O. Right as the words were about to get out of her, the AllFather cut in.

“Oh, slighted by a beloved?” Odin asked.

You swallowed back the impulse to yell at him.

Slight?! Slight?! Slight like it was nothing. Slight like you were overreacting. Slighting was when you looked at someone and they turned the other way. Slight was when someone said, “no, I do not feel the same about you.” Adultery was not slight. It was not little. If it was little, you would be over it by now. You knew that. Odin should know that!

But yet -this was this world’s king! You couldn’t chide him or rebel. Even if you were a guest, it would create bad tensions. And between a king and some mortal peasant woman, you knew who held the upper hand.

You turned your head down. But a clearing of a throat nearby you made you look up.

“If that is how you put it, Father-but Y/N darling deeply loved him. She still does. It was a betrayal, nevertheless,” Loki informed.

He shot you a look and a nod. An acknowledgment. An understanding.

“Oh, you poor dear! That must be very hard! No wonder the rumors flew!” Frigga sighed.

She reached over and offered her hand. You took it and she rubbed one over in comfort. You gave her a smile.

Thor nodded. He picked up a leg of chicken and knawed at it. Robert took another sip of his wine.

“Yes, he was full of faith. He just couldn’t be faithful.” Robert commented.

“Indeed, lady- that is a miserable situation- Have you considered meeting him on a battlefield and ramming a sword through his gut?” he asked with his deep voice.

You gave him a bigger smile that was met with a half chuckle. You saw Hal beam at the idea. But then you tensed up again as you answered.

“I’ve been tempted to!”

“Then by all means, Lady Y/N, do it!” Thor encouraged.

“It’s easier said than done,” Robert commented.

Thomas was cutting his meat with his knife and fork into bits. Suddenly he set down the fork with food on it. Jonathan watched intently, not saying a word.

“If I break the engagement…I will be considered…. Damaged. Embarrassed. Even unmarriageable…”

“Unmarriageable? Why?!” Thor cried.

Thomas leaned in and politely put in.

“It is true but… usually, Miss Y/L/N, it is more severe for the gentleman to break it than the lady. But yes-I can confirm. From our time, it can risk a lady's reputation.”

“It would mean…ruin…” you added.

Loki’s eyes gave an angry glint and his frown was hard at Thomas.

“Are you implying that Y/N is defective? Do you agree with them, Sir Sharpe? She has done nothing to be ashamed of!” he hissed.

Thomas shook his head, his eyes wide and losing his sudden grace.

“Oh! No! I’m so sorry! I’ve heard it…but…Miss Y/L/N…”

Thomas leaned closer to you.

“The advice given is to write a letter. A calm one. Send it to him. Return the gifts, no matter how expensive-especially if there is a ring. Was there?”

A lump was in your throat as you nodded.

“I…I’m so scared to…to…to do it,” you confessed.

A whole future you were so looking forward to. A man you loved. The promise of a peaceful life in a nice small town married to a handsome, faithful vicar. You still wanted it. But that was never to be. On top of the humiliation of a broken engagement, you knew you had to let go of wanting things to be an ideal instead of what it was. But holding onto it never made you feel any better. And the idea of going back home and walking down the aisle of that brown church and being brought to his brown house knowing what he did seemed impossible.

“My dear, you have good reason to….if you want to. It is your decision,” Frigga encouraged.

She looked at Odin and he nodded as if on cue before drinking his goblet.

“My worth, my future…will be gone…” you mumbled.

“For letting go of an engagement?! Of course, it won’t!” Robert added on. You turned to him.

He began to shrug. “Where I come from, there are hundreds of breakups like this-hundreds of divorces. They’re normal in the future.”

Loki made a gesture to the blonde man politely cutting his meat into strips.

“Better than being stuck with something miserable. Jonathan here is divorced! But he’s not some ruined good with no future- if his own life moved on, and so could yours!”

Jonathan nodded.

“It is true…but it doesn’t make it any less painful, Y/N,” he said.

Thor smiled and raised up a goblet to you.

“Warriors have scars on the battlefield. And this is just another battle for you, Y/N. But you will win it, no doubt..”

You gave all of them a smile. Then continue your meal. Odin turned to his elder son.

“Speaking of battles…I heard there was a duel between you and a warrior of Jotenheim- how did you do son?”

Thor curled his fingers into a fist with a proud grin.

“Crushed him, easily!” he boasted.

Odin applauded with a laugh. He reached a hand and touched his arm.

“There you go, there’s my boy!” But as you turned, Loki’s face drained of its color. He ate the rest of his meal in a hurry and then excused himself. Once it was finished, you found him on the balcony.

“Loki…you don’t like Thor…though he’s your brother and he’s kind to you…how come?” you asked. No matter beating around the bush.

You followed him over. You both were looking out the balcony onto the evening sky. The Asgard city sparkled in its lights before you. Loki turned around to you. His voice was quiet.

“Do you remember what Jonathan said at the meeting? About Thor?”

“Odin’s going to name Thor as his heir?” you recalled.

“Yes…Odin’s going to name Thor as his heir. Not me. Him. And you saw him at dinner-lauding over every little thing he does.”

He looked out. He began to mourn softly-the words fresh out of him. Losing the cool confidence he kept as a god.

“All of my life. I have been second to Thor. Thor the Great. The Mighty Thor. He’s always been Father’s clear favorite. He’s gotten everything to him on a silver platter. Me…not so much.”

You placed yourself closer to him. You saw his hands grip the railing. A small tear ran down his face despite his angry frown.

“Oh…dear, Loki-that is miserable…your father shouldn’t treat you like this…no father should,” you consoled.

“You only need to understand what it is to have Father’s favorite in front of your face paraded all of your life.”

You arched an eyebrow.

“Do you think I don’t understand what it is for someone I love to prefer another person over me?” you asked.

There was silence. Then Loki looked down. He then noticed your hands.

“They haven’t come off since the bargain…I wonder…how much do you know about the spell?” you questioned.

“I only know how to perform it and what it does. But as to the after effects…I’ll have to ask my mother. She is the one who taught me magic, after all.” he explained.

Both of you looked at the small marks across your skin. Then turning up, you met Loki. How relaxed he seemed here. No formal dinner. No swaggering display of power. Just…just himself.

“So…you keep Thor out of this quest…so you can get all the glory?” you asked.

He placed both of his hands on his hips and tilted his head a bit.

“Is there anything wrong with that?”

“No..it’s just…it’s a complicated scheme. Perhaps you should just sit down and tell your father how you feel?”

He turned to the balcony and looked at the city again. Down one could see people going in and out of places-joyful and smiling and laughing. As if a celebration was going on down there.

“I have other matters. Bigger ones. We have a threat to our planet. Our world. To Asgard And yours and the others. If we’re going to keep anyone we love safe, we have to go through. We began and we will see this to the end,” Loki answered.

You looked down, then back up.

“Alright..then count me in…” you said.

Loki turned to you.

“What…what do you mean?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Loki…what if I stayed here? Trained every day? Stayed here and helped you?”

“You…want to stay here? You have someone waiting back home to marry you…” Loki mumbled, blinking rapidly.

“If I go now…I will be pressured to marry him at once and I…I…I don’t want to…not after what he did…Loki…don’t send me back there and leave me there…I…I don’t want to marry Will. I want to stay here. Don’t send me back to Aldwinter, please.” Your voice became pleading.

He looked at you. His blue eyes became shiny, and then his posture relaxed.

“Then I won’t force you…you are free to come and go from here, but stay as long as you like. We’ll make it a second home…” he answered.

You stepped forward and hugged him. In honest gratitude. He nestled into you, nuzzling tight.

“Thank you…I wish Odin could see this side of you- the generous side…” you muttered.

“And your priest could see your bravery,” Loki replied.

You squeezed him tighter. As if you could squeeze out the air from him. But he took it. He held you. And he didn’t release until you were the one to let go.

“I’ll ask Jonathan to escort you back to your room.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You sat down at the desk the next morning. You put out a piece of paper and began writing. This first letter would be an easy one.

“Dearest Mama and Papa, I was never abducted. I am not Loki’s whore. I am safe and cared for in Asgard. I plan on staying there a while but I will stop down and visit you. I do not know when I will be returning, but they treat me like part of their family. There is something there that requires my assistance. I will write to you soon with more details- but I am very much alive and well and unharmed with all of my needs met. You have nothing to worry about with me. I will write to you as often as I can. And visit when time allows. All of my love, Your daughter, Y/N.”

You stared at the piece of paper. Your pen hung in the air. One piece of paper- and it would determine your fate. Your future. A whole future you had set up that you were now going to throw away… No…it was nothing you did to ruin it.

“Will,

I have written to my parents to say this, but I will tell you. I am in Asgard. I am safe there. All of my needs are being cared for. I am no one’s whore as some might say. I plan to stay there for some time…”

You paused. This was hard. It was very hard. But you knew it had to be done, tears brimming in your eyes. You recalled the evening you danced together at a party, not too long before he proposed. A happy memory made sad and bitter.

The letters. The tan coat. The red dress. Cora. The kiss.

It curled up in your stomach and made the inside of your bowels feel like it was full of fluids. And not in a pleasant way. The people in Aldwinter will chide you for this. But the people in Asgard… said you would still have worth.

No matter what I have worth. And I will survive this and move on, you thought. After all, it was not you who was ruined. It was not you who did any wrong, you had to remind yourself. And if this means I am ruined because I know what I want in my husband, so be it. With a deep breath to calm yourself, you continued writing.

“Our agreement was made when we were in love but we truly did not know each other. We did not understand marriage- neither of us. When I did not understand what it meant to be your wife. And you did not understand what it meant to be my husband. Now we do. You have hurt me. Deeply. And one day you will answer to your God for what you have done as much as you answered to me. May you be prepared. I remember Proverbs- “the man who commits adultery is an utter fool, for he destroys himself. He will be wounded and disgraced. His shame will never be erased.” William, I cannot marry an adulterous man. There are women out there perhaps more forgiving than I am. I hope you meet one. Be loyal to her forever. May she never suffer the cruelty you have done to me. May you be willing to die for her, be a mere slave at her feet. May she never be shattered at the expense of your pleasure. For this, I release you from our contract. You are free now. Do not ask me to marry you again, I will say no. Do not look for me in your blind congregation. Do not go out and seek me. Do not speak to me. Do not do anything for me. And do not beg me to be kind to her. She knew you were not free. And it did not stop her. She is as guilty, as selfish, as unkind as you. No wonder you both were drawn to each other. I release you, with a heart full of both love and grief for who we were and who we might have become. You may visit my house for I would like to have the gifts you gave me returned to you. You are no longer mine as I was never truly yours. Goodbye, Father Ransome.

Sincerely, Miss Y/L/N.”

You folded it and tucked it into an envelope. You turned to your journal. You took out the page with his flower, strand of hair and picture. You put a finger through it to feel it. Tears ran down your cheeks, but your determination steeled you forward. You placed them in the envelope. Then, finally, you placed in the engagement ring and sealed the envelope shut.

You then walked over and found Loki in the dining hall with Thomas. Thomas was looking at a small music box, fiddling with the gears.

“I need this letter delivered to my home- to Essex, to Aldwinter. First this one to my home, and then…then this one to the church…” you said.

Thomas stood up.

“I think I would be the most suited- I think your time is close to mine. I dress a decade early already.” he sighed.

He put on his top hat and cloak and Loki’s magic whisked him away and then back. Thomas merely took off his top hat and brushed off the dirt of the town.

“There! Delivered efficiently! Now, Y/N, Loki-come here- this little box can play a different tune than it had at first! Come have a look…”

That night, you slept. Free from your betrothal. Free from your home. Free from living with the judgment of others. Yet you had an odd dream. You saw the sea- it looked like the sea back home.

Then images began flashing. A boat. A boy with brown hair. Flowers in the water. Spools of thread in the water. Little bottles in the water. Shells in the water. Then a glimpse-you saw threads of blonde hair floating in the water…someone was in it…perhaps swimming…but you could not make out a face, a person, yet you felt a presence…you saw a white hand reach outstretched towards the surface, where the sun glimmered through the sea. Then it went down, down, down…

When you woke up, somehow, the dream stuck with you.

[thatonehighschoolreject]

The Merc's Final Kill

Where V chose the easy way out. Saying goodbyes on a rooftop. He was hoping to make amends with Johnny and himself. Thanking each other for their time together.

wordcount 6k canon compliant spoiler warning V's third POV TW for suicide

Relic Malfunction Detected

V stepped into the elevator and raised an unsteady hand to press the down button on the touch screen. He coughed hard as the doors slid shut. And then he fell to the ground, barely able to save himself from a broken nose by catching the ground with his elbows.

"I warned you," Johnny groaned from behind him, pissed beyond belief. He approached V. Then suddenly a chrome hand pushed the stop button.

The lift came to a sudden stop, unsettling the bile in V's stomach. He kept it down nonetheless, surprisingly. "What're you doing?" V was baffled. How the hell did Johnny press the button anyway? He was in the cockpit- not piloting. He frowned and lifted his head to see Johnny standing by the doors now.

The engram scoffed, "What am I doing? I'm showing you what it's like to feel fucking trapped." He paced as V flipped over and backed into the corner of the elevator. Right now, he was wishing he was in any life but the one he currently lived. "Asked you. Warned you. But you've insisted on not giving a shit." He was using a tone that one would use when explaining something complicated to a toddler, like he believed the mercenary wouldn't understand him no matter how simply he worded it. "Now this porcelain cunt is gonna use you in her fancy scheme." He looked down at the dying man like a cat would a wounded mouse - with disgust and primal disrespect.

V didn't stand for disrespect.

He fought off the lightness in his limbs and the spinning in his head. He tried to pull himself to his feet and sputtered the words : "Fuck off." V didn't see that he had much choice in the matter. And who was Johnny to say what he could and couldn't do? It was his body not the rockerboy's. "I haven't agreed to anything yet." He was only half standing now, the rest of his body weight he was forcing the wall behind him to hold. He was gripping the railing, holding on for dear life so he wouldn't fall.

Johnny glared daggers and his words were soaked with venom, "But I know you still don't understand how these leeches operate." He threw his hands in the air in frustration before continuing. "She met you face to face. She revealed her plan. She sunk her teeth deep into you-" The ghost lowered himself to be on V's level, "Not gonna be able to pry yourself out."

V weighed his options, considering the latter. "Well, we could ask the Aldecaldos to lend a hand." His mind wandered to Panam. And he briefly wondered if he would be able to say goodbye. If he'd even have the guts. God, she was like the little sister he never wanted. But he loved her to death. Well, death doesn't hold much value nowadays. Especially considering he'd be lucky if he had a month to live. Definitely not enough time to tie up any loose ends.

Johnny rolled his eyes as if V had suggested he ask the Tyger Claws for help instead. "Listen up, V. Those guys are trailer tuggers!" He stood back up straight and continued to pace, this time even faster than before. He seemed very distressed. "An assault on Arasaka's just not another convoy to jack. You already tried this with amateurs." He tilted his head as he looked over to him. "We both know how that ended."

"And you tried it with pros. It didn't end any fucking better." V's voice sounded weaker this time. Like he was grasping at straws to stay conscious. His bones felt so sore and weak. His head felt like it was going to explode. And it seemed like Johnny didn't even care one bit. He managed to stand all the way upright before a wave of pain struck his body once more. And he had never felt pain like this before. Like he was being crushed between two semis both going 200mph.

Relic Malfunction Detected

"Johnny…" That was all he could get out in a broken breath. Then V came crashing down to the floor again, landing on his side. If he made it through this, he would definitely be bruised from shoulder to knee. And he had sworn that he heard something crack. Was that his wrist?

"Great! You checking out again?!" Johnny moved to get down by V. Hoping that maybe if he got closer maybe V wouldn't lose consciousness- or his life. Well, both their lives. He was hoping that he could save him. Just like he had so many times before.

Just before he could reach a knee to the paneled flooring everything went black.

It was so dark. So damned dark.

V had never seen such darkness. His eyes were open- at least he thought they were- and he still couldn't see a thing. Couldn't feel anything either. Fuck. Had the biochip really taken V clean out of the land of the living?

If he had flatlined, then that would mean Silverhand's name was the last thing to leave his lips. God, that would be a damned pathetic last line. Definitely not one to go down in a documentary.

The darkness seemed to swallow him whole.

"Wha… Am I…?" V muttered this thoughts, begging to get an answer on if he were actually dead or not.

"Not yet," Johnny said confidently from the confines of his mind.

The black faded to a white. V opened his eyes and was met with a blinding light. He winced at the throbbing stabbing in his body.

"Easy there. Don't move just yet." He had heard Viktor's voice before he had seen his face.

"Vik?" He let out breathlessly.

"You're in a lot of pain, I know. Delirious when you arrived so I had to dose you with betalaperadol." The ripperdoc looked at V's narrowed pupils and squinted eyes, "But light oversensitivity's a good sign. Means your optic nerves aren't damaged." He looked back over to his computer. "Almost done stabilizing the biochip."

V was overwhelmed by the pain. His words were barely more than a whisper. "My head…" He groaned as another spike of soreness washed through him. "Feels like…"

"Like someone's using your head as a knife block?" Viktor finished for him. Well, it wasn't an inaccurate way to describe it. A good way to put it even, it did feel like that.

V didn't even remember walking into the doc's clinic. All he remembered was that damned elevator. And what it felt like to be inches within death. "How… How'd I get here?"

"Dragged yourself here beat to hell and back. Gave Misty a hell of a fright. Then, you shoved my patient at the time off the table. And demanded you be treated immediately." Viktor stared him down, as if hoping retelling the ordeal would help rejog V's memory or at least strike him with an ounce of shame.

"Tell him it was your guardian angel," Johnny whispered aloud. It was then V realized he had the engram to thank for him to be still kicking. He had seemed so mad before, V never would've guessed he'd want to save him after that conversation.

"Huh?" The doc replied as if he had heard him. But that was impossible. V's eyes wandered to find the ghost leaning with his arms crossed, just a few meters away from the table he found himself crumpled on.

"I, uh… wasn't completely myself." V struggled to explain his actions. If he admitted that Johnny had taken over so easily the doc might've underestimated V's sense of control in his own body.

Viktor looked to him, a look in his eyes glinting an unreadable emotion. "I know. It's a bit worrying."

The mercenary struggled to show a small smile as he offered a light comment. "I'll order a weaker poison next time." He would almost laugh if he didn't know it would hurt.

Viktor had hardness in his stare and his voice somehow got even more stern. "This ain't no joke, kid." He briefly glanced away to follow V's eyes then turned back to face him once he found nothing. "As I see it, there won't be a next time."

His words really hit where it hurt. Metaphorically, because literally everywhere was hurting. Even parts of him he didn't know could hurt. Was this really the end of the line for him? For Johnny's second go around as well? Maybe Johnny didn't care about V's life. Why would he care about anyone but himself? He had hated the kid since the day they met so why would he feel any different now?

He probably just saved V to deal with some more of his unsettled business, to use his second chance at life to pick up the pieces of his previous one. After all, almost nobody dies without a speck of unfinished business weighing in their heads and on their souls. Johnny was certainly a prime example of that matter. That man had more loose ends to tie up while dead than he ever had even attempted while he was still alive.

It really struck him. He didn't have much longer did he? A couple days? Maybe less?

In not much time he'd feel just as lost as the ghost that haunted his mind. He would have just as many things he'd wished he coulda done. Just as many regrets and grudges, too. Just as many guilty deaths weighing on his conscious moments before his own end came to meet him.

V had once doubted that the biochip would be the death of him. A month ago, he begged Viktor to say it was just some crude joke. Now, it seemed that Viktor was right. But at least Johnny had attempted to save him and prolong his inevitable demise. But what would that matter now?

The doc typed something into the keyboard with a glum expression. "Alright. That should be a little better." He nodded his head, shutting the display. His eyes fell back on the dying man. "Try sitting up. Carefully."

"Okay." V huffed, "Don't expect a miracle." He braced himself on the table with his hands against the arm rests. As he straightened out his legs, he whimpered in pain. His joints were flooded with uncomfortable static. The mercenary slammed his eyes shut, face contorted in discomfort. His sharp inhales struggled in assisting him to not scream.

"I said slowly-" Viktor repeated, eyeing him with worry.

V groaned as he straightened his back out, speaking through grit teeth. "Another victory for the history books."

"Hmm." The ripperdoc hummed, crossing his arms. He clearly wanted to say something but he was holding back.

"Well, looks like I can sit up alright." V trailed off, prying at him, "But I can tell you don't have good news." He feared the next words that would come out of the other's mouth. What could be more important than what he was going through right now? Nothing better than this shit, that's for sure.

"How much longer is this going to go on?"

He averted his eyes from Viktor's troubling gaze. "You tell me."

This was the most serious V had ever seen him. "Looking at you, not long at all." Viktor shook his head, seemingly overwhelmed by guilt. He felt to blame for the man's state, even though he had nothing to do with it. "Next attack, you won't be able to crawl back here. You'll flatline in some back alley. This is your last chance to take matters into your own hands. Understand?"

"Take matters into my own hands? The fuck you think I've been doing?" He narrowed his eyes in anger, pushing himself to sit up so he was finally upright.

Viktor raised a brow at the other. "Well, whatever it is, it keeps landing you on my table." He stepped to the side and V's eyes landed on a medical cart that was behind him. Johnny appeared beside it. "You see that setup over there?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

"You'll find the last dose of pseudoendotrizine there. A gift from Misty. Want to give in to the voices in your head? Go ahead. Take a puff. Go silent. Get out." Viktor let out a long sigh that sounded as though he was holding it in for hours. His gaze was heavy on the dying man. "Or, find another way. End things on your own terms. Got a little present from me over there too. Blockers. Managed to walk those few yards to the table. The rest will be up to you and you alone." He stepped away from V and walked to the other side of the room.

"On your own terms, huh?" Johnny pressed, now standing right in front of V. He glared in Viktor's direction then looked back to the mercenary. "Really subtle there, doc."

"Enough, Johnny. I just…" V looked down at his legs. "I gotta think about it." He got off the table and onto his own two feet.

"Need to stretch your noodle?" Johnny's voice echoed. "Fine, just not in this basement."

"V, christ. You're talking out loud." Viktor called out.

"Out loud? What?" V paused. That echo wasn't an echo after all. It was V speaking as Johnny. Fuck, he was really losing it after all, huh?

The ripperdoc huffed, "Just go fix this thing."

V stumbled a bit as he tried to take a step. He groaned. "I think I can do it."

Johnny walked beside him just as slowly. "Whatever you decide, let's make sure to get outta here first."

The mercenary nodded his head and went to the medical cart. He grabbed the pills and stuck them in his pants pocket. He ignored the growing lump in his throat as he grabbed the pistol and holstered it on his hip. He turned to walk towards the exit. Misty stood by the door. Fuck, he hadn't noticed she was there. Did she hear all of that?

"Hey, V, I heard…" She began to speak, "Well… your thoughts?"

V swallowed hard in reaction. "Shouldn't have had to. Sorry… bout that."

Misty shook her head, "No need to be. I know what's going on." She empathized, "And I know it won't be easy. For either of you." She glanced around the medical room. "If you don't want to decide here, I know a much better place."

He considered it. "Sure. Got a feeling Vik's had enough of me, as is." He frowned, looking at him in his peripherals.

"Don't be mad at him," the psychic eased, "His chakras are all blocked up today. Plus he's had too much coffee."

V fought the urge to laugh. "Lemme guess. My aura's sputtering?"

She seemed to look at him as though he were the saddest thing imaginable. "Mhm, afraid so."

"Lead the way." He nodded his head towards the door. "Why's this spot so special?" He wanted to calm his mind. Hell, could barely think, let alone with both Viktor and Johnny's eyes staring him down.

And lead she did. So V followed. "I took Jackie there once. It's not far." Misty made her way up a flight of stairs and he struggled to keep up with her pace.

"Jackie? What's he gotta do with any of this?" He narrowed his eyes. He hadn't heard anyone say his name in a long time. It hit with whiplash only comparable to being in a high speed motorcycle wreck.

One could hear the smile in her voice. "You'll see. C'mon." Misty slowed her walking to match V's speed.

The walk was so ominous. What could possibly help him decide what he wants to do with his last days alive? Was it really that grand of a spot that Jackie would've fallen deeper into love with her? Misty walked through elevator doors and V followed. Not without being reminded of his last time in an elevator but at least someone would be here to help him if his brain and body were to shut down again. That and he was only a short walk away from Viktor's clinic.

"Top floor." The psychic nodded her head to the display. V pressed the roof button then looked back at her. Really, what could help at a time like this? "He had the same glum face."

"Who, Jack?" He narrowed his eyes in doubt.

" 'This is it, chica. I'm done for.' " She quoted, not seeming to be hit as hard when talking about him as V did.

V never thought of Jackie to ever be in a pessimistic state. Even in his last moments he still seemed to be planning what he would do next. "Doesn't sound like the Jackie I knew." He admitted.

Misty offered a soft smile. "That was a long time ago. His mom had just found out he signed up for the Valentinos." The elevator came to a stop and she lead the way to another set of stairs. He followed blindly. "Trust me, Señora Welles on one shoulder, your gang choombas on the other, no choice can ever seem right."

He hummed in agreement though he had never been in that situation before. Not any like it really. He never had anyone looking out for him or trying to stop him from making any rough choices. Save for Johnny but he didn't really count. He just made a decision and if it came to bite him in the ass then oh, well, he'd deal with it then.

"Life wasn't easy for my Jackie. But he found the courage to bet on himself." After walking through a long hallway, Misty opened the door to the rooftop. V followed and greedily took in a breath of the fresh city breeze. "After, I brought him here."

The getup was pretty mellow. There were a couple of plastic beach chairs placed near the edge of the roof with a small table placed between the two. It gave a perfect view, you could see every skyscraper in the entirety of Watson. There werebits of trash littered around but that was true for anywhere in Night City.

"Ah, that's more like it. Air." Johnny commented from V's right, not hesitating to take a joying lungful, as well.

The air felt like ice hitting the back of his throat. It helped ease the pain in his head, clear it a bit too. He didn't feel as sore anymore.

Misty continued, moving to sit in one of the chairs. "I come out here when I need a break. Be alone with my thoughts."

"She's onto something," the engram agreed, surprisingly. "Ought to sit. Mull through some shit yourself."

V made his way over to the edge, taking a seat in the other chair. "Thanks, Misty. You were right, choice spot." His mind lingered before he was able to voice his thoughts. "So what… What did Jackie decide up here?"

"Oh, you know, 'Gonna be a legend in this city!' " She quoted him, even putting in that enthusiasm he had always seemed to have.

At that moment V was heavily reminded of his departed friend. His voice. All that he had left behind. All who he left behind. Misty, V, Momma Welles. Countless others for sure. He was grateful to have met Jackie but had wished he had known him a bit longer. Wished he could've spent more with him. And he was sure Misty felt the same way.

"I'm gonna leave you alone. Take your time." Misty sent a smile his way before getting up and leaving.

As she shut the door behind her, Johnny appeared again. He was sitting on the edge of the roof, right in front of the amazing view. "Fuckin' scared me, you know that? Thought you were on your way out."

"No." V didn't let his eyes leave the rockerboy. "Still here."

The ghost grimaced. "For now. Y'know, you should call anyone you wanna say goodbye to."

"Worst case scenario. That what you expect?" Did he really have so little hope in him?

Johnny shook his head. "No, but whatever you decide, risk's gonna be high. If things don't go our way…" He couldn't seem to place his thoughts together to continue the way he would've liked. "Just fucking do it. Anyone you gotta talk to, now's the time. Pills can wait." The only reason Johnny would bring it up is because he wishes he had been given the chance.

The chance to call Kerry and let him know he might not make it past the next night. To call anyone that had ever once mattered to him and say his final goodbyes.

He wished he had taken that opportunity and given those around him the tiniest bit of closure. But he hadn't. Maybe because he only thought about himself in that moment and didn't care to think about the after.

And he can't undo that now. All he can do is attempt to stray the kid in a different direction than he had gone.

V considered it. Considered all the people he could call. Just to talk to one last time on the holo in case this was his last night alive. He couldn't call Panam. He didn't have the courage to. How would he explain this one away? 'Yeah, sorry, Panam, I don't have long to live. Don't cry about it for too long.'? Yeah, right.

And it would suck the life outta him to have to call Judy. Let alone Rogue. To have to tell her that she was about to lose Johnny for the second time and lose him as well. That would crush her. He couldn't do that. He wondered, if he did drop dead, who would be the one to find his body? Who would be the one to spread the story? Who would be the one to tell the people he knew that he was no longer? Would he end up being a legend after he died just like Johnny had been? Unlikely. Yet, he held onto that thought.

But why was he thinking about all of this? Maybe there was a way to save himself. To keep from ending up six feet under. Even if there wasn't, it wouldn't do well to dwell on the after. Because he wouldn't be there to see it. So it shouldn't matter. Right? He wouldn't be the one to mourn for it. He wouldn't be the one to grieve his death. Still, it was a lot of pressure to put on those around him.

If he had much choice in the matter he'd choose to live longer instead of going out like a sick dog that others would just want to put down. To be put out of his misery and suffering. Hell, if it were that easy he'd choose life instead of death. And maybe, just maybe, he'd choose to let Johnny stick around. Because why should the guy have to go through death twice? Wasn't dying once enough for him? Once is enough for anyone, really.

"No. Not really my style, goodbyes." He came to the conclusion. One he would likely regret if he was alive long enough to. A hard choice. That's what this place was for, right? Choices.

Johnny frowned but didn't protest. "You do you. Come a long way to get here, haven't we?" 'We' that word stuck with V. To think of him and the ghost as a duo, as an 'us,' well, that made him feel less alone in the matter. Made him feel like maybe all this hard work and fighting his way through was actually worth it. "Just think. It all started in a fucking landfill."

V scoffed at the memory. Reminded of Takemura and being told he didn't have long to live. The beginning of this whole mess. "Then you tried to kill me." He wondered where he was going with this.

"Exactly what I mean. Here we are now, together. Soaking in this sweet vista of Night City. I only regret I won't get to see how it all ends." Johnny continued, moving to sit in the chair the psychic had been in prior. He had a point, though the use of the word 'together' sat with him. Such a small word for such a big thing. Together meant that neither of them were alone. That brought comfort to the both of them.

Hey, who knows, maybe in another fifty years some poor, unknowing guy will put the engram in his head and Johnny will get to see what happened after this life ends. V, well, V wouldn't be so lucky since he couldn't afford to become an engram.

"Gee thanks. Got that little faith in me?"

Silverhand shook his head, disagreeing. "Not in you, in the rest of 'em." He looked off into the distance at the landscape. With the tiniest beat of silence that lingered, his eyes were back on V again. "Listen, wanna trust Panam and her tarmac rats? Fine, but it'll be their lives weighing heavy on your soul. And if you take Arasaka's deal, well, that'll be your own soul on your conscience."

Without hesitation V spoke, "Gonna try to ask Panam for help."

"You absolutely sure?" He eyed V, not wanting to go through with either choice, really. "No going back on this, you know."

He paused to gather his thoughts before speaking them. "There is another option, though." V wondered if he would regret this one or not in another life. He took the pseudoendotrizine and omega blockers out of his pocket and stared down at them in his palm.

"What?"

"We put all this- the pills, everything to bed."

"If we don't try something, anything, we're both doomed." The rockerboy frowned, hoping the other truly knows the consequences of what he does next.

"I know." He gripped the pills tight and chucked them off the ledge. "Exactly why we'll do one last thing." V's heart was beating out of his chest.

"Okay… You lost me." Johnny swallowed, "Realize the shit we've been through to get this far, right?" It only took him one look at V to tell that he wasn't bluffing. That he was serious.

"Sure do."

"To let it all go now, why?" He asked such a simple question but V was grasping at air to find the words to say next. Why does anyone else commit suicide? They see it as their best or last option.

"Cleanest, least bloody option. We try anything else," V thought of the casualties of the other options, "people die."

Johnny didn't seem to understand, "People die. It's the way of things."

V was convinced he was thinking clearer than ever, convinced that this was a rash decision. "Am I worth their sacrifice? Are you?" That was a good point.

Would a thieving mercenary and the ghost of a suicide bomber be worth the lives of countless others?

Would it be worth it for kids to bury their dads or moms?

Would it be worth parents burying their daughters or sons?

Worth someone their losing brothers and sisters?

Worth someone losing a good friend like Jackie?

Worth partners left to bury their boyfriends and girlfriends?

No. Of course not.

Neither of them were worth ruining a family. Let alone several. They weren't worth it all. Certainly not in this lifetime. "Besides, it's the only way we'll both be aware." V finished.

"Of what? Death?" Johnny seemed heartbroken to be letting go again so soon.

"Mhm." V's voice was softer now. "The moment life escapes."

The silence seemed to linger in the air for so long. Is this what death would bring? Silence? Or would be loud and repulsing.

What if death would be better than the entirety of this life he had lived? From what he's heard, most people never realize there's better things out there until they find it.

V didn't realize he could find a friend until he met Jackie, until he met Johnny. He thought he would live and die alone without anyone batting an eye or caring to notice.

Who knows, maybe if he had chosen to live the extra twenty-four hours longer he would've died without anyone. All alone. Nobody to say goodbye to. Nobody to say they'll miss him. Without even Johnny to ground him and reassure that death isn't that bad. This could be his last chance at a good, honest death.

Was it worth the risk?

V would argue yes.

"Hmm. Never really gave it a thought." Silverhand examined the other's features, maybe trying to read out more than what he was being told. "Funny how you still manage to surprise me, sometimes."

V laughed softly into the chilly air. "Might be something I learned from you."

"V," Johnny looked at him with a face of concern. "You sure about this?" He wanted to be sure that he truly wanted this. That he was actually willing to give it all up. Johnny never had anyone to ask him if he was making the right decision before he died, so he had to be sure he was that person for V. To give him what he had never received.

The mercenary glanced at the gun at his hip. "As long as you have nothing against it." He would hate for Johnny to not feel like he got a choice in the matter. Especially since this was now his life just as much as V's.

"Not how I'da done it, but that's alright." He seemed to finally feel the weight of what was going to be done. And he accepted it rather easily.

V raised a brow, "Just like that, no pushback?"

"Huh, mighta learned a little something from you, too." Johnny reached his chrome arm out and placed a hand on his shoulder.

It was the first time V had felt his touch since the time he tried beating him to death in his apartment. Hell, he had forgotten what his touch even felt like. Or the touch of anyone not trying to punch him, really. He was sure he was one of very few, or quite possibly the only one, to ever experience a gentle touch from the rockerboy. It was exactly as Johnny had intended it, to be comforting.

"Is it time?" He held great sorrow in his eyes. Not for himself but for V. To see one lose the will to fight hurt to watch. Still, it was V's choice to make, not his. And he respected that. Even if he thought V was stupid for it.

V nodded. He looked back out to the cityscape, admiring the neon lights and metal buildings from afar. "It really is beautiful."

"Been nice working with ya, V." Johnny said his goodbye, tenderness in his voice that not many had the luxury to hear. The sincerity of his words made the mercenary pause and think again.

So, this was it, huh?

The end?

Everything would be gone forever.

For good.

"Yeah, with you, too, Johnny…" The words were barely able to make it past V's lips. He wanted to cry but he couldn't. Instead, the lump in his throat almost cut off all breathing.

Was this really how it ended?

At least he wasn't alone.

At least he had Johnny.

And at least Silverhand didn't have to die alone this time either, left crying out to empty air. Someone would be there for him this time. Someone who cared.

V would give him something he never had. Something he never knew he needed.

V looked at his chrome hand and took it in his. He squeezed Johnny's hand. Neither of them could recall the last time they had held someone else's hand. But they were both sure that it didn't mean nearly as much as this time felt now. Wasn't as significant. Nothing would ever be as important as this.

This was a final goodbye.

He met Johnny's eyes with regret.

Not regret of sticking his biochip in his head, nor regret of having met Johnny.

Instead, it was a regret of not having had more time. Of not having met each other sooner.

Neither V nor Johnny were the same men they were before they were forced to each other.

V had been a suckup for corpos, always trusting in officials to make the best choices for the city. He saw no life purpose other than to make a name for himself on the streets.

In so little time, he learned so much about legends and that being one wasn't worth the price to pay. He learned that within the blink of an eye you could lose everything. That and sometimes the hardest to make decisions were the most important ones.

Johnny had refused to see any purpose in life other than to change the present for future generations. He thought to take down the higher-ups by whatever means necessary would be the solution. That it would save the world.

In so little time, he had learned so much about the connections of those around him and how they mattered more than anything. That and one man can't take down an entire family philosophy with only one bomb.

Even if he had never had the honour to meet someone like V in his life, to change him for the better, at least he had him in his death.

Who knows? Maybe after all this is over, they'll meet again.

In heaven or another life.

Maybe they'll be reunited under better circumstances and won't have to worry about putting aside their differences to see the decency in each other.

And maybe V would be the one saving Johnny next time around.

As V reached for the pistol and pulled it out from his holster, he felt the rockerboy's grip tense. He pulled back the hammer and saw there was already a bullet in the chamber. He placed the barrel against the underside of his jaw, aimed straight up towards his frontal cortex. He spared a look to Johnny as he rested his finger on the trigger and was met with the saddest eyes imaginable.

Johnny reached his other hand over and wiped a tear from V's cheek with his knuckle. V hadn't noticed he was crying. So that's why the ghost looked so sad- because he had never seen V cry before. His organic hand fell back down to meet with his chrome hand, gripping V's. Both their hearts were beating out of their chests in fear.

So much was left unsaid.

They weren't doing it alone. That's what mattered most.

Yet they couldn't find any way to shape them into coherent statements. So while V steadied his trigger finger and kept eye contact with his ghost as he squeezed the trigger.

V heard the blast just as everything went black.

This time, he didn't have to beg the question if he had flatlined. He knew it to be true. And this time, there was no panic in the darkness. He just let it envelope him.

And this time, Johnny didn't feel so alone. He finally felt like he had pursued a purpose.

If in their lives they hadn't been granted the luxury of peace, at least in death they would.

And even if they weren't perfect men, at least they would be remembered by friends.

That's what counts, right?

Johnny would argue yes.

[phantom-does-a-thing]

for the ask game: 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15,16,17,19,20,21,22,23,24,25,26,27,28,29,30 :)

ok bestie

How many words have you written this year? 537,776

How many works did you publish this year? 143

What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)? maybe "It wont be the same when my favorite person leaves" but idk... I worked REALLY hard on that fic and it was really cathartic to see an idea that I have been plagued with for months finally come to fruition in a way that I really enjoyed I think. The first version of that fic I wrote was really discouraging because I really hated it but I like the version I posted. Also "Death, suits you dear sir" that one was just really enjoyable to write and I enjoyed the process of it. I think I would've wanted it to be a little scarier but I like the tone I put and I like how I wrote it. I can say I'm proud of that one. Lastly "I can't escape my shadow" is very near and dear to my heart, it's reminiscent of my old writing and It was really fun to write more horror for the first time in however long.

What work of yours has the most hits? "I want a nice soft place to land I want to lie down forever" which makes sense since its one of my owl house fanfics and thats a pretty popular fandom. But it also really surprises me that it's my most popular fic this year bc like... I really hated that fic when I wrote it like, I had the idea in my head and it didn't come out the way I wanted it to at all. The words fought me and I was SO unhappy with it and I still reckon I could do it better. But it's my most popular fic this year I guess.

What work of yours got more feedback than you expected? Ok so there might be a lot of recent fics bc like I wrote a lot this year but honestly? "Words I don't say" I did not expect a lot of feedback and it was a little bit of a shot in the dark being the first fic I wrote for that campaign. I think I'm noticing a pattern of the ones that I am insecure about are usually received the best

Favorite title you used "Icarus and melted wax" you know how much I love Icarus references

If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most? I think I literally just threw out the sheets of paper I used to collect this data when I cleaned my room a bit ago. Crap. I think it was either Alec Benjamin or Tamino

Pairing you wrote the most for this year? Oh thats a good question oh god how do I find this out easily without having to collect the data myself. Probably Albatrio bc I think I have the most riptide fics. Wait I think I figured it out if this is accurate data its a tie between Jay and Gillion or or Chip and Jay

Favorite pairing you wrote for this year? Dakota and William I think (or PolyPD)

What work was the quickest to write? Oh god I think I have several like 2k fics I wrote in like an hour I absolutely am NOT going to remember which ones. Uh probably "You're my brother and I love you that's the truth" I wrote and posted that one in school. I don't know when I wrote it during the day but it took like an hour...

What work took you the longest to write? The unfinished halloween fic anyway probably "A glimpse in time" it's my longest fic this year and I'm pretty sure it took me a REALLY long time tbh.

How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year? heavy sigh. I doubt it's going to be that many because that implies that it's something I intend to finish and not something I gave up writing. Probably only one that I intend on finishing but if I count ideas that I still want to elaborate on: 3

What’s your longest work of the year? A glimpse of time linked above, that fic possessed me so hard I do not even understand how. I wrote like 6k exposition for it.

What’s your shortest work of the year? OH that's actually a really good question I never actually like... thought about. "sandstorms" at 1,430 words. I always forget I wrote legend of zelda fic, one of those i need to revise and fix bc the tense makes me so unreasinably mad

What WIP are you taking into next year with you? weeping sobbing shaking crying I don't wanna talk about it I don't wanna talk about the halloween fic I'm crying and shaking and sobbing. Oh also the two unfinished fluff prompt asks that I do still intend on writing.

What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag? Probably "I wrote this instead of sleeping" only 92 of my 411 fics are NOT tagged with that, Phantom does NOT get sleep actually. In second place is "fluff"

Your favorite character to write this year?A William wisp <33333333333 but Vyn is fun to write too bc I make him a creature.

you didnt put 18 so im not answering that one lol

What’s one pairing you want to explore next year? Kian Rolan and Rand I need to write more with them I NEED to write more bitb fics lest it drives me insane.

Which work of yours have you reread the most? Good question, I honestly usually reread like the most recent stuff I post, I always reread my fics in the morning after I post them to look at them with new eyes and see how I feel about them then. This one is gonna be a list hold on "I'm a wreck when I'm without you" "The birds who sing in the dead of night" "Until you're in my arms again" I have no idea what others, that's getting a bit older in my fic sooo, I don't usually go that far down.

How many kudos in total did you get this year? 16,395

Which work has the most comments? "I want a nice soft place to land I want to lie down forever" Linked above

Did you do any collaborative works this year? uh no? Is that working w ith another person to write a fic, I assume that's what it is and no. Other than the fact that I bounce ideas or plan a good bit of my fics now with you sami

Did you write any gifts this year? No but I may or may not have been supposed to and have not written that yet. This year will be me writing my first gift I feel it.

Did you receive any gifts this year? Two!!! "Struck by lightning" by Nyxthedragon25 and "Lost dog" by Periperson both absolutely lovely fics and everyone should go read them absolutely

What’s your most common category? Hold on what are the categories... oh I don't use those anymore so I can't answer something with that. I very rarely use slash tags I am absolutely not comfortable enough to use those tags.

What do you listen to while writing? Instrumental music or classical music probably.

Favorite work you wrote this year? I have literally no idea tbh but I really like "Here's a health to the company" that one's just a really nice fic, I might add a bonus to it sometimes this year where I add ashe into it which is what I originally wanted to do when I wrote it but I didn't know anything about Ashe enough to be able to write him. But like I had and have an idea of what I could do for him in that 5+1 situation.

Favorite line/passage you wrote this year? "The words should have been a weight lifted off her shoulders. It should have been relieving to get it off her chest, to tell the big secret that she had been holding close to her heart for so long.

That’s what she had been told. That it was a relief to finally tell the truth.

Whoever said that was a liar through and through."

From "I cry hard because I have died, and you're alive" I'm actually surprised I wrote that in 2022... just barely but it I thought for sure it was gonna be 2021 anyway that line has always stuck out to me I think. There are probably better lines and stuff I've written recently but that one just sticks out to me, I think it's really cool.

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year? I think just mostly all the fics I managed to write, all the support I've had and I think the friends that I have made. It's really just... shocking to me that people enjoy my fics, a lot of people comment about seeing me upload in their inbox implying that they have notifications on for me and that's just... really wild to me. I can't really comprehend the support and the love people have for my writing, it feels unreal I think. I don't understand it at all haha, I'm just here writing silly things and people actually like it.

I think also my biggest surprise is my growth and how much Jrwi put me in a chokehold haha I didn't expect to write this much this year and I think I'm really happy with where I am with my writing. This year has been amazing and I'm so proud of myself for everything I've done and I'm so glad to have met a ton of amazing people in this fandom and to actually interact and join the community in whatever way I can.

Side note: I'm actually really proud of myself for actually like trying to put myself out there a little more. I hate making fandom posts because it makes me really nervous, but I think that I've gotten over that fear and I've tried to interact more with some people. I've made some great friends and some great mutuals and I'm really happy with that. It's been an amazing year so thank you all.

[nemesyaaa]

“ everything about you screams i always win ” “dont "hey man, me ” “ not around me, i got you ” “ i'm gonna break every bones of your hands ” “ sweetheart ”

the war inside me is crazy !!! your writings is wonderful. i love the way you write and describe things ! and this new rafe concepts is so hot. i can totally see him as a pilot. i'm a fan of the shows masters of the air soo 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ this is gonna do it for me !! it was 6k words but please, i didn't see the time pass. the story with the words just flowed in front of my eyes !! rafe being an cocky confident bastard while reader doesnt want to make the same mistake to protect her heart. this is so sweet please ! but this man always win, but i'm glad, what a beautiful one-shot !!!

There was that god-awful distinct scent of jet fuel in the air, a reminder that you were in one of the Navy’s busiest air bases. The hum of roaring engines wasn’t anything new; it had become a part of your day-to-day existence. The bar you worked at, The Mirage, was a hotspot for pilots, flight crews, and pretty much anyone else who was stationed nearby. A quiet coastal town didn’t offer many options for a social life, and if you wanted to get a cold drink or unwind, The Mirage was the place to be. WLZKDKZKDKEKE I'M ALREADY SO HOOOKED WITH THE BEGINNING

You’d been working here for just over a year and a half, long enough to recognize the distinct swagger of a military man when he walked through the door. They were easy to spot – especially the pilots. IT'S SO CREATIVE

Sweetheart? Oh God, one of those guys. His voice had that low, southern drawl, smooth as Tennessee whiskey, dripping with charm. It was the kind of voice that could make anything sound like a compliment, even when he was teasing. And the way he leaned on the bar, just a little too close, just a little too familiar, like he’d been doing it his whole life and knew exactly what effect it had—it was almost criminal. KFKZKDKEKEKE MAKE ME FEEL SOME TYPE OF THINGS SORRY 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ “ TENNESSESS WHISKEY » MY COUNTRY GIRL ASS IS SCREAMING. “ DRIPPING WITJ THE CHARM ” 🫡🫡🫡🫡

So, you didn’t move. You let him come closer, closer until you could feel the warmth of his lips brushing against yours, so light at first it was barely there. A soft, testing touch, like he was still making sure this was okay. And then, when you didn’t pull back, he pressed his lips fully to yours. KDKZKDKEKE THE KISS, YESSSSSSS😩😩😩😩 IT'S SO DEAR TO ME AFTER THE JEALOUSY SCENE. LIKE YES LACK OF COMMUNICATION BJT FIX IT, TALK TO ME, REACH AT ME AND COME GET YOUR KISS !!

all that talk is killing me - rafe cameron

request here: Fighter!Pilot!Rafe AU x Sweet!Reader. word count: 6.5K (YIKES) warnings: tooth rooting fluff and rafe being too charming.

There was that god-awful distinct scent of jet fuel in the air, a reminder that you were in one of the Navy’s busiest air bases. The hum of roaring engines wasn’t anything new; it had become a part of your day-to-day existence. The bar you worked at, The Mirage, was a hotspot for pilots, flight crews, and pretty much anyone else who was stationed nearby. A quiet coastal town didn’t offer many options for a social life, and if you wanted to get a cold drink or unwind, The Mirage was the place to be.

You’d been working here for just over a year and a half, long enough to recognize the distinct swagger of a military man when he walked through the door. They were easy to spot – especially the pilots.

Sunglasses permanently glued to their faces, that stupid untouchable arrogance radiating from them, the knowledge that they were some of the best in the world at what they did. It was almost admirable, if it wasn’t so…predictable. 

You had sworn off pilots. No, you’d sworn off men in a uniform all together.

It wasn’t like a hard rule or anything, but after what happened with your last boyfriend—who, shocker, also wore a uniform—you weren’t about to make the same mistake twice. You’d learned the hard way that guys like that came with way too much baggage. 

Long deployments, their egos inflated to the size of fighter jets, and let’s be real, they weren’t exactly known for being faithful. Military men had a reputation, and in your experience, they earned it. You weren’t about to get your heart broken again.

You’d been there, done that, and had the emotional scars to prove it.

So yeah, working at a bar right next to a Navy air base wasn’t exactly ideal, but you weren’t here for the guys. The Mirage was just a job, a way to pay the bills while you figured your life out. It was a decent gig. Good tips, a steady flow of regulars, and every now and then, you’d get to watch a squadron of cocky, ego-driven fighter pilots try to charm their way into someone’s pants. 

Fun to watch, but that was about it.

The first time Rafe walked into The Mirage, you felt it immediately—the shift in the air. 

You had your back turned, trying to keep busy wiping down the bar, but you could practically feel his presence as he swaggered up, like the whole place had just taken notice of him at once. Lean and built like he was carved from the side of a mountain, with shoulders that filled out his flight suit just right, and a chest broad enough to make any woman’s heart skip a beat.

And when you finally turned around? He was standing there with that stupid, lopsided grin, a couple of dog tags peeking out from beneath his half-zipped flight suit, the sleeves pushed up like he had zero intention of playing by any rules but his own. He had this ridiculously good-looking, disheveled kind of vibe going on, like he’d just gotten off a jet and didn’t care that his hair was all over the place.

You almost hated how good he looked.

He didn’t even hesitate when he caught your eye. He walked right up to the bar and leaned on it like he owned the place.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, flashing you a panty-dropping smile that probably worked on most girls. “Can I get a beer?”

Sweetheart? Oh God, one of those guys. His voice had that low, southern drawl, smooth as Tennessee whiskey, dripping with charm. It was the kind of voice that could make anything sound like a compliment, even when he was teasing. And the way he leaned on the bar, just a little too close, just a little too familiar, like he’d been doing it his whole life and knew exactly what effect it had—it was almost criminal.

“Sure,” you said, not bothering to match his energy. You grabbed a bottle and slid it across the bar to him, intentionally keeping it short and sweet. You weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of a flirty smile or small talk. Guys like him lived for that.

“Thanks, darling.” He tipped the bottle to you, still grinning like he knew something you didn’t. You sighed, turning back to your work, already half-expecting him to hit on someone else.

But over the next few days, Rafe kept showing up.

Every night, like clockwork, he’d stroll in after his missions with that same laid-back swagger. You noticed how people gravitated toward him, like he had this magnetic pull. His squadron buddies? They idolized him. Girls? Yeah, they fell for him hard, like they didn’t see the giant walking red flag that he was.

But the worst part? He kept coming back to you. 

Every time he walked into The Mirage, he’d make a beeline straight for the bar, leaning in with that smirk that was starting to get under your skin.

“You’re not like the other girls around here,” he said one night, lounging across the bar like he was settling in for the night.

So typical it gave you chills. He was a natural-born flirt, and he knew it. He wasn’t subtle; he didn’t have to be.

You snorted. “Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“They all like a guy in uniform.” He motioned to his flight suit, like he was showing off. “But you? You don’t seem impressed.”

You met his gaze and deadpanned, “I’m not.”

That should’ve been the end of it. Usually, when you gave guys the cold shoulder, they got the hint. But Rafe? He wasn’t so easily shaken. If anything, your disinterest seemed to make him more determined.

“Gotta say, I like the challenge,” he said, watching you like you were some kind of game he was about to win.

You rolled your eyes, but part of you couldn’t help but laugh. The guy had confidence, that much was clear. But you had to remind yourself why you’d sworn off pilots. This wasn’t your first rodeo. You’d been with a guy like Rafe before. The type who’d make you feel like you were the center of his universe—until you weren’t.

“I don’t date pilots,” you told him flat-out one night after he tried to get cute, leaning closer than necessary over the bar. You were done playing games, and he needed to know it wasn’t happening.

He just raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable for a second before that grin returned. “That a hard rule?”

“Pretty solid, yeah.”

“And why’s that?”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical as hell, “You don’t even know my name.”

He leaned in slightly, that annoying grin never leaving his face as he took a sip of his beer, eyes never leaving yours. “You’re right,” he said casually, placing the bottle back down. “So, what’s your name, sweetheart?”

The audacity. Like his smooth confidence was supposed to melt away all your reservations like you were just another one of his conquests. You could see it so clearly now—the cocky smirk, the way his voice had that low, drawling quality that practically screamed “I get what I want.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head as you wiped down the counter. “I’m not giving you my name, Rafe.”

"But you know mine," He arched a brow, not even remotely phased. “Fair enough. Guess I’ll just have to earn it.”

“Not happening,” you shot back, trying to keep your tone firm. 

But you could feel a tiny sliver of amusement creep into your voice despite yourself. He was relentless, and for some stupid reason, it was kind of fun to watch him keep trying.

There was something about a man in uniform that made women lose all sense of reason, and you weren’t about to be that girl again.

And yet, Rafe Cameron kept coming back. 

Like a stray, relentless and impossible to ignore. And as much as you tried to play it cool, to not be another notch on his flight log, you couldn’t help but notice how his grin deepened every time you turned him down, like he was getting some kind of kick out of the challenge.

“You really don’t give up, do you?” you asked, throwing him a sideways glance as you refilled a couple of drinks for some regulars down the bar. You could feel his eyes on you the entire time.

He chuckled, that easy confidence still dripping from him. “Not when I see something I like.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, grabbing an empty glass and polishing it to distract yourself. “Well, you’re wasting your time,” you muttered, half-hoping that would be enough to shut him down for good.

But he didn’t take the hint. Instead, he leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough to make it feel like the two of you were in on some kind of private conversation.

“Maybe. But something tells me you’re not as immune to my charm as you think.”

That did it. 

You turned to face him, arms crossed over your chest, giving him the most unimpressed look you could muster. “I’ve met guys like you before. You roll into town, flash that cocky smile, and think you can get anyone in bed because you’re a hotshot pilot. You’re probably great at what you do, and I’m sure girls throw themselves at you left and right. But I’m not one of them.”

His posture faltered just a little, and you almost—almost—felt bad for bursting his bubble. But then he just laughed, “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

You shrugged, nonchalant, but you could feel a small sense of satisfaction. “Why should I? Guys like you are all the same.”

Rafe leaned back, studying you with a look that was half amused, half intrigued, like you were some kind of puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

“Nah, I don’t think we are,” he said, almost to himself. “But I guess you’ve got your reasons.”

That hit a little closer to home than you expected, and you felt your defenses kick back in full force. “Yeah, well, they’re good ones.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he said, his tone softer than before. He tapped his fingers against the bar, like he was considering his next move. “But just so you know, I’m not looking for an easy win here.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Oh really? Because everything about you screams ‘I always win.’”

He laughed—more like he was in on a joke that only he understood. “True. But this feels different.”

Different. Sure, like every smooth-talking pilot didn’t say the same thing when they were trying to get a girl to let her guard down. You’d heard it all before.

“Look,” you started, leaning on the bar now, “I’m sure you’re a nice guy when you’re not playing the whole ‘bad boy in uniform’ thing. I’m not about to go down that road again. Especially not with someone who spends more time in the sky than on the ground.”

His eyes stayed on yours, unwavering. “But you don’t know me. Not really.”

“And you don’t know me either,” you shot back, feeling a bit defensive.

“That’s true.” He nodded, but there was a spark in his eyes that made you feel like he was more than ready to change that. “But I’d like to.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“Nope.” His grin was back, but this time, it felt less like a game and more like a challenge. Not in the annoying, overconfident way, but in a way that made you almost—almost—want to see how far he’d go. “And I’m willing to take it slow, if that’s what you need.”

You weren’t used to guys like him offering to go slow. In your experience, they wanted everything fast—fast cars, fast planes, fast relationships. The fact that he was even suggesting the idea caught you off guard.

“I don’t need anything from you,” you said, though your voice wasn’t as firm as you wanted it to be.

“I know,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “But maybe you want to give me a shot. Maybe.”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if this was some kind of trick. But all you saw was that stupid grin and those frustratingly blue eyes that were starting to chip away at your resolve.

“I’ll think about it,” you muttered, not fully committing but not entirely rejecting him either.

Rafe’s grin widened like he’d just won a small victory. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the drinks you were supposed to be serving, but you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. Damn it.

You weren’t ready to let him in, not yet, but maybe—just maybe—you didn’t mind the idea of him trying.

Because, against your better judgment, you kind of liked the way he made you feel.

Over the next few months, Rafe didn’t just disappear like the others. 

He stuck around, but not in the way you expected. At first, you thought he was still working some angle—coming into The Mirage every night, sitting at the bar, chatting you up like he was trying to wear you down. But after a while, something changed. It wasn’t like he was chasing after you anymore. It was more…normal. Friendly, almost.

It started small. He’d ask you about your day, your shift, little things like that. He didn’t push for more. When he wasn’t in the bar, he’d still check in—he’d send these short, goofy texts from time to time. Just little updates, nothing deep.

“Heading out on a mission, don’t burn down the bar while I’m gone.”

Or, when he was away for a while:

“Bet the place is boring without me around, huh?”

It wasn’t anything serious. Just light, casual. And you liked it that way. It was enough to feel like he was there, but not so much that it freaked you out.

Sometimes he’d ask about your life outside of work—how your art classes were going or if you’d gotten your car fixed yet. He never let you walk home alone. You hadn’t expected that from him. Like, when you first met Rafe, you pegged him as the type of guy who only cared about himself. But he’d actually listened to you, remembered stuff you’d said, which was…surprising. And kind of nice.

Still, you kept your guard up. You weren’t about to let him in fully. Not after everything you’d been through before. But you couldn't deny that a part of you enjoyed his company.

One night, about six months in, he came into The Mirage after being away on a longer mission. He looked more exhausted than usual, but his grin was still there as he slid into his usual spot at the bar.

“Miss me?” he teased, tapping the counter as if he’d been gone for a year instead of a few weeks. That flight suit clung to him like a second skin, half-zipped just enough to reveal a sliver of tanned skin and a hint of a tattoo peeking out. The sleeves were rolled up, showing off forearms roped with muscle, veins running down like they were tracing a roadmap to all the trouble he’d been in. His dog tags swung carelessly against his chest, catching the dim light of the bar.

He looked good enough to eat.

“Not even a little,” you shot back with a smirk, pouring him his usual. But the truth was, things had felt kind of off when he wasn’t around.

He took a sip of his beer, watching you closely like he always did. “Sure about that?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Cameron.”

You expected him to throw some cocky line back, but instead, he just chuckled. “You been good?”

It was such a simple question, but there was something in his voice that made you pause for a second. “Yeah,” you answered, nodding. “Same old, same old.”

“Good.” He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned his attention to the rest of the bar.

Everything felt kind of…easy with him now. You didn’t really know how or when it happened, but somewhere along the way, you’d started to see Rafe as more than just a cocky pilot. He was still all of that, sure, but there was more to him than you thought. He wasn’t just the guy who flirted relentlessly; he was the guy who checked in, who listened, who made you laugh when you didn’t even feel like smiling.

It was nice.

That night, The Mirage was packed. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and loud laughter. The usual suspects were there—pilots unwinding, a few locals mixing in, and the occasional sailor trying his luck. You’d been running around non-stop, the orders coming faster than you could keep up. Rafe had disappeared to the bathroom a few minutes ago, and you were focused on getting through the rest of your shift.

That’s when someone came up behind you. You didn’t even see him coming—just felt the sudden press of a hand on your waist, fingers gripping too tight, a body too close. Your breath hitched in your throat, heart picking up speed as you twisted around to see who the hell thought they could just grab you like that.

It was some guy you hadn’t seen before, a stranger with bleary eyes and a stench of cheap whiskey rolling off of him. He leaned in, way too close, his breath hot against your cheek. 

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he slurred, his hand sliding lower, and you felt your stomach twist.

“Get off me,” you snapped, trying to shove him away, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he grinned, like he thought this was some kind of game.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” he drawled, his other hand moving to grab at your arm, pulling you back toward him.

Panic flared fast in your chest. You tried to twist out of his grip, but he tightened his hold, pulling you closer.

“I said, let go!” you shouted, shoving him harder this time, your voice cutting through the noise of the bar. Your heart was racing now, pounding in your ears.

You glanced around, hoping someone would see what was happening, maybe step in, but everyone seemed too caught up in their own worlds, too fucking drunk to notice.

The guy just laughed, a low, sleazy sound that made your skin crawl. His hand slipped lower, fingers pressing into your hip, and you felt a cold rush of fear. “Just want to have a little fun,” he murmured, his voice thick and rough.

You opened your mouth to scream, to shout for someone, anyone, but before the words could come out, you heard it—the sound of glass shattering. You blinked, confused for a second, and then you saw Rafe.

He was back, and he was livid.

You’d never seen him like this before, eyes dark and wild, his jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscles twitching. He shoved through the crowd like a storm, fists already balled at his sides, his whole body taut with rage.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, voice low and dangerous, like he was barely holding himself back.

The guy barely had time to turn around before Rafe grabbed him by the collar, yanking him away from you with a force that sent him stumbling back into the bar. 

“Get your hands off her,” He spat, his voice like gravel, his eyes blazing.

The guy looked stunned, confused for a moment, before his face twisted into a sneer. “Hey, man, relax—”

But Rafe didn’t let him finish.

“Don’t ‘hey man’ me,” he growled, stepping closer, his hands still clenched into fists. “You touch her again, and I’ll break every bone in your fuckin' hand.”

You were still trying to catch your breath, your pulse racing, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You’d seen him mad before, but this was something else entirely. His whole body was tense, like he was ready to pounce, and there was a look in his eyes that was almost… feral.

The guy seemed to sober up real quick, his eyes flicking nervously between you and Rafe. “Alright, alright, I’m going,” he muttered, hands up in surrender as he backed away, disappearing into the crowd.

Rafe watched him go, his chest heaving, his fists still clenched like he wasn’t quite done yet. He turned to you, his eyes softening a little, but his face still hard, still angry. “You okay?” he asked, his voice rough, breathless.

You nodded, swallowing hard, trying to steady your breathing. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you managed, but your voice was shaky, betraying the fear still thrumming through you.

Rafe stepped closer, his hands reaching out to gently touch your arms, his fingers light against your skin. 

“You sure?” he asked, his eyes searching yours, his face so close you could see the worry etched into his features.

You nodded again, feeling a little steadier now, your heart still racing but slowing down, your breath coming easier. “Yeah,” you whispered, “Thanks to you.”

“You don’t have to worry,” he said quietly, “Not with me around. I got you.”

You felt your heart stutter in your chest, and you realized—maybe, just maybe, you were really starting to trust him. And that thought, more than anything, scared you to death.

It's why it felt so hard to be around him from that day on. You were trying to balance between wanting to keep things normal with him and avoiding getting too close. After what happened that night, you were more on edge than ever, and it didn’t help that Rafe was still making his usual appearances, his cute texts and late night calls. His protective streak had only made things more complicated.

“Everything alright?” he asked, his tone casual like he was trying to read between the lines.

You shrugged, “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

He didn’t buy it. “You seem off. Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened,” you said, a little too quickly. “Just a long night.”

Rafe didn’t push. Instead, he grabbed a drink and started chatting with you about mundane things—the kind of small talk that was meant to fill the space without digging too deep. 

He casually mentioned his plans for the weekend, how he was heading out with some friends, making it clear that he was open to other social opportunities.

“Gonna be out of town for a bit,” he said with a shrug, almost as if he was testing the waters. “Thought I’d let you know.”

You looked at him, trying to keep your expression neutral. “Okay.”

He paused, a smirk playing at his lips as if he was waiting for a reaction. “You sure you’re okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but the tightness in your voice gave you away.

Rafe’s smirk widened, clearly satisfied with the effect he was having. “Just checking. Didn’t know if you were going to miss me or somethin''.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage to find plenty of people who will,” you shot back, grimacing.

He chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You know, you’re more complicated than I thought.”

“That’s what makes life interesting,”

You finally let yourself admit it—his casual flirtation and the way he seemed to enjoy getting a rise out of you was starting to mess with your head. And that was exactly what he wanted.

So maybe, your petty self, doesn't answer to a single one of his texts while he's away. You figured if he wanted to play the game, you could play it too. It wasn’t like you were avoiding him or anything; you just wanted to make a point.

The first day, you didn’t think much of it. The second day, you told yourself it was no big deal. By the third day, you were trying not to obsess over the fact that your phone hadn’t buzzed with a message from him in the past twenty four hours. Like he'd given up. You kept yourself busy with shifts at The Mirage, catching up on sleep, and even dabbling in a new painting project.

When he finally came back, you were trying to act like it was just another day. You were behind the bar, pouring drinks and chatting away when he walked in.

Rafe’s usual swagger was in full force, but today, there was a hint of weariness in his eyes, like he’d been through the wringer. He slid onto his usual stool and flashed you that same charming grin, but this time, it felt a little more… tentative.

“Hey, stranger."

“Hey,” you replied, trying to sound casual, like you hadn’t been avoiding him. You set a beer in front of him and went back to wiping down the bar, giving yourself something to do so you wouldn’t have to meet his gaze.

Rafe took a sip of his beer, “So, you’ve been quiet lately. Everything alrigh'?”

“Just been busy, I guess.”

“Busy or just avoiding me?” 

“Why would I be avoiding you?” you chuckled, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’ve been working and catching up on things.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly not buying it. “Did I do something to piss you off?”

Uh, duh. He was making you fall for him. Recklessly. 

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’ with a little too much force. “Everything’s fine.”

Everything was not fine, especially not when a girl you'd never seen before decided to eagerly join him on the stool next to his. 

You didn’t mean to be staring at them. You really didn’t. 

But there she was, practically hanging off Rafe’s arm like some kind of human accessory, her giggle obnoxiously loud over the music in The Mirage. She had this glossy, perfect hair, one of those flirty little dresses that clung to all the right places, and legs for days. And she was touching him. All over. Laughing way too hard at whatever stupid joke he’d just made.

You could feel your stomach twist into a knot, and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why it bothered you so much. It’s not like you hadn’t seen this before—girls throwing themselves at him like he was the last guy on Earth. You’d watched it happen a dozen times. Maybe a hundred.

But today? Today it felt different. Today, it felt like there was a boulder lodged in your chest, and you could barely breathe around it.

God, this was so stupid. You didn’t even like him like that. He was just…a friend. A hot, annoyingly charming friend who maybe made your heart race a little bit every time he walked into the bar. Whatever. It didn’t matter. You were not—repeat, not—catching feelings. You couldn’t be.

Still, your hands were gripping the bar a little tighter than necessary, your smile plastered on your face as you poured drinks for some regulars, trying to pretend you weren’t glancing over at them every five seconds.

But then she had the audacity to look right at you, her big doe eyes blinking innocently, and ask, “Hey, could you get me another drink?”

Your fingers tightened around the beer tap, and you felt a jolt of irritation shoot through you. The girl was practically hanging off his arm, and here she was, smiling at you like you were her personal waitress. 

You forced a smile, the kind that didn’t reach your eyes, and nodded. “Sure, what do you want?”

She twirled a strand of hair around her finger, leaning in even closer to Rafe as if she needed to be attached to his hip. “A tequila sunrise, please,” she chirped.

You had to grit your teeth to keep from rolling your eyes. “Coming right up,” you muttered through clenched teeth, turning your back to them as you reached for the tequila.

You could feel Rafe’s gaze burning into the back of your head, could practically hear the smirk in his voice without even looking. He was loving this. Watching you squirm, seeing you get all pissy while he played the charming flirt. God, he was such an asshole.

“Here you go,” you said, managing to keep your voice steady.

She beamed up at you, completely oblivious, and took a sip. “Thanks! You’re the best.”

He looked like he was having the time of his life. That stupid grin plastered on his face, his blue eyes sparkling as he leaned in close to hear whatever the girl was saying. And she was soaking it all up, practically melting into him, flipping her hair like she was auditioning for a shampoo commercial.

You felt this weird, hot sting in the back of your eyes and immediately blinked it away. Oh, hell no. You were not going to cry over this. Over him. No way.

But it was getting harder to hold it all together. You turned away, busied yourself with wiping down the counter, anything to stop looking at them.

And then it happened.

He looked over at you.

Just a quick glance, but enough to catch your eye. Enough to let you know that he knew you were watching. And damn it if he didn’t look like he was enjoying every second of it.

That did it. You felt the flush of heat creep up your neck, the anger boiling under your skin. You slammed a glass down a little harder than you meant to and mumbled something about taking a break.

“Hey, you okay?” one of your coworkers called after you, but you were already pushing through the back door, needing some fresh air, some space to get your head straight.

You ended up in the alleyway behind The Mirage, your back against the cool brick wall, eyes squeezed shut as you tried to keep it together. You felt so stupid, so ridiculous for even letting this get to you. He wasn’t yours. He was just…Rafe. And you were just you, the girl who’d sworn off guys like him a million times.

But it hurt. Way more than you wanted to admit. And before you knew it, a tear slipped down your cheek. You quickly swiped it away, cursing under your breath.

And that’s when you heard it—the creak of the door swinging open, footsteps on the gravel.

You didn’t even have to look to know who it was. Of course he followed you. Of course he did.

“What’s this?” Rafe’s voice was teasing, that familiar low drawl that usually made your heart flutter, but right now it just grated on your nerves. “Are you crying?”

You scoffed, keeping your back turned, hoping he’d take the hint and leave you alone. “No. Just…got something in my eye.”

“Sure you did.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, that stupid, smug grin that he always wore like some kind of armor. “You jealous or something, sweetheart?”

God, he was such an ass. “No,” you snapped, turning to glare at him. “Why would I be jealous? You can flirt with whoever you want. I don’t care.”

He stepped closer, still grinning like he’d won something. “Really? ‘Cause you looked pretty pissed back there.”

You felt another tear threatening to fall, and you bit down hard on your lip, willing it to stop. “I’m not pissed,” you lied, crossing your arms over your chest. “Just…busy. And you’re distracting.”

Rafe laughed softly, and you wanted to smack that grin off his face. “Distracting, huh?”

He was closer now, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off his body, and it just made everything worse.

“I’m serious,” you said, your voice shaking just a little. “Just…leave me alone."

But of course, he didn’t. Instead, he took another step closer, reaching out to tilt your chin up so you had to look at him. His thumb brushed against your jaw, and you hated how good it felt, how much you wanted to lean into his touch even though you were mad as hell.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer now, all teasing gone. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You sniffed, trying to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you. His grip was gentle but firm, and for some stupid reason, that only made the tears come faster.

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled, hating how weak you sounded. “Just…go back to your fan club, okay?”

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you saw something there, something that wasn’t just amusement. “Fan club?” he echoed, his brow furrowing slightly. 

“You mean that girl?”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. That girl. You seemed pretty into her.”

He let out a low chuckle, but it wasn’t mocking. It was almost…gentle. “Sweetheart, you think I’m interested in her?”

You blinked, not trusting yourself to speak, so you just shrugged.

Rafe shook his head, his thumb still brushing your cheek. “Nah. I’m not. I was just…” He paused, a grin tugging at his lips. “I was just waiting to see how long it’d take you to get jealous.”

Your mouth dropped open. “You—what?”

He grinned, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “Oh, C'mon. You think I didn’t notice the way you were glaring at her? You looked like you wanted to rip her hair out.”

 “I did not,” you protested, but the redness in your cheeks betrayed you.

Rafe’s grin widened. “Yeah, you did. And I gotta admit…kinda hot seeing ya all riled up over me, sugar.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, but there was no heat in your voice now. It was hard to stay mad when he was looking at you like that, like you were the only person in the world.

He laughed softly, but then his expression softened, and he cupped your face with both hands, pulling you closer. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and serious now. “For the record, there’s no one else. Just you, okay?”

Your heart did a stupid little flip at his words, and you wanted to be mad, you really did. But instead, you just felt relief flood through you.

“Okay,” you whispered, and before you knew it, you were in his arms, his lips pressing against your forehead, his hands wrapping around you like he was never letting go.

“You don’t have to pretend you don’t care, you know,” he murmured against your hair. “I kind of like that you do.”

You sighed, finally letting yourself lean into him, burying your face in his chest. “I hate you,” you mumbled, but your arms were wrapping around him all the same.

He chuckled, pulling you even closer. “Nah, you don’t.”

And damn it, he was right.

Then, you shifted back a little, looking up at him. His face was closer than you’d realized, his breath warm against your skin. You could see every fleck of gold in his eyes, the way his lips curved slightly like he was trying not to smile too much.

"You’re an asshole, y'know that?" you whispered, but your voice came out softer than you meant it to.

He laughed, a low rumble that you felt in your chest more than heard. "Yeah. But you kinda like that about me, don't ya?"

There was no hiding the grin tugging at your lips. "You think you’re so charming."

"That's 'cause I am," he shot back, but his voice had this low, husky tone to it now. His gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there a beat too long. You could feel your heart speeding up. It was like everything slowed down in that moment.

Before you could overthink it, he leaned in. Slowly, like he was giving you a chance to pull away, his eyes locked on yours, searching, waiting for any sign that you didn’t want this. But you did. More than anything, you wanted this.

So, you didn’t move. You let him come closer, closer until you could feel the warmth of his lips brushing against yours, so light at first it was barely there. A soft, testing touch, like he was still making sure this was okay. And then, when you didn’t pull back, he pressed his lips fully to yours.

It was gentle at first, careful, his hands still cupping your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks like he was memorizing every inch of you. You could taste the faint hint of beer on his lips, feel the scratch of his stubble against your skin, you felt something sweet, something that was just him.

You kissed him back, tentatively at first, but then something in you snapped. You sighed against his mouth, a soft, involuntary sound, and that was all it took for him to deepen the kiss. His tongue brushed against your lower lip, asking for permission, and you granted it without thinking, opening to him, meeting him halfway.

All the tension, all the months of pretending you didn’t feel anything, it all spilled out at once. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your fingers threading through his hair, deepening the kiss.

Rafe groaned softly, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you flush against him. And you kissed him back just as fiercely, letting yourself feel every bit of it. When you broke apart for just a second, gasping for air, but he didn’t go far. His lips hovered over yours, his breath warm, his eyes dark and intense, like he was seeing straight through you.

"God," he whispered, his voice ragged, "I’ve wanted to do that for so long."

You didn’t even have time to say something before he captured your mouth again, this time slower, deeper, like he wanted to savor every second. His hands were everywhere now—one in your hair, the other sliding down to the small of your back, holding you like he was never going to let go.

You broke apart again, both of you panting, his forehead pressed against yours. “Fuck,” he breathed out, a smile spreading across his face. "You sure you don't hate me?"

You laughed, breathless, your heart hammering against your ribs. "Maybe just a little," you teased, but there was no hiding the smile that was stretching across your face, the way your fingers still tangled in his hair, like you couldn’t let go.

He chuckled, leaning in to steal another quick kiss, softer this time, sweet and playful. "Well, I can live with that." he murmured against your lips.

And as he kissed you again, you realized that maybe you could, too.