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mothandpidgeon · 17 days ago

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Nine Lives (witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader) - Part 4

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader

rating: E MDNI

summary: As you came into your powers and your curves filled in, Ezra realized he feelings for you were more than just affection. The only problem? He's a 300 year old crused witch. Oh, and he's a cat.

contents: age gap (like 300 years), nudity, alcohol, only one bed, masturbation, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 7.1k

a/n: Hello again, my friends. This chapter took much, MUCH longer than I expected and also much longer. It probably would have been a lot faster had i not been encouraged to add some smut you know who you are. There are at least 3 more parts to this story. Thank you for being on this journey!

Big thank you to @lowlights and @schnarfer for advice on this and to @moonlitbirdie for betaing and loving me unconditionally.

🐈‍⬛

He’s having that dream again. The one where he’s human and you’re holding him, lips against his shoulderblade, fingers stroking the coarse hairs low on his belly. He’d live in these dreams if he could.

After the disappointment of the night before, Ezra revels in it, even if this is fleeting.

He should never have gotten his hopes up. It wasn’t just the risk to consider but the complexity of the spell. You’re not a child but as witches go, your powers are still young. And, with his last minute decision, the two of you bodged together the potion in less than a day. The chances that it would have been successful were so slim, he’d been a fool to believe that you could pull off such a feat. He’d been caught up in the moment, your unfailing belief in him, the tantalizing question what if…

At least he has his dreams. Half awake, Ezra reminds himself that had the spell had worked, he wouldn’t be laying naked in your arms. There’s no knowing how things would change if he did.

Sinking into the sweetness of the dream, he can’t help but roll over and bury his face in your neck, purring against your pulse. Instead of being met with your mouth, your hands searching for more of him, you scream.

It’s enough not only to wake him but startle him out of the bed. What would normally be a swift leap off of the mattress, landing on his feet, is an inelegant tumble to the floor, knocking his head and pulling the sheets off with him. You’re actually shrieking. It’s not just some figment of his imagination. A string of creative expletives leave you as Ezra tries to untangle himself from the covers. When he finally rights himself, his heart beating like a rabbit, he finds you pressed against the headboard with a look of terror on your face.

“What the fuck! What the fuck!” you shout, your heels digging in the mattress as you scoot away from him.

“Easy! It’s me, little mage! It’s me!” he says, breathless.

Your eyes somehow manage to grow even wider.

“Ezra?” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “It worked.”

His head is spinning so quickly that your words take a moment to sink in. Another is spent in disbelief as he look down at his hands, outstretched in submission. Ten fingers. There are legs snarled in the bedsheets not covered in black fur but with wiry hairs.

Ezra touches his nose, still bent from where he broke it in his youth. He feels the divot of the scar on his cheek, the whiskers on his upper lip. All as he was.

He stares, speechless for once in his life.

“Ez, it fucking worked!” you cry, tumbling across the bed and diving over the side.

You clasp your hands on either side of his face, your eyes wild with delight, and your laughter is a mix of joy and relief. He joins you, it’s contagious, laughing and gripping into your shoulders. If he didn’t feel your palms against his cheeks, he’d think this was still a dream.

Luckily he has the presence of mind not to plant a kiss on your mouth though with the amount of glee bouncing between the two of you, he doubts you’d protest.

“We did it!” you say.

“You did it,” Ezra corrects, marveling at you.

You amaze him more each day. Not only did you do some incredible and complex magic but you foresaw it all. Beautiful, clever, talented. And now you’ve given him his greatest gift. He’s human once more.

Your eyes dance across his face in turn, taking in the new details

“It’s really you,” you say.

You stroke at his face with your thumb. It’s a light touch but to Ezra, the sensation is so powerful he’s afraid he’ll shatter into a thousand pieces.

You smile softly and reach for his hair. “Your patch,” you say, twisting the white strands out of his forehead.

“Oh, Ez!” you exclaim.

Overwhelmed by it all, a dam bursts. Tears are slipping down his face without him even knowing. Centuries of them finally making their escape.

You lean in, press your forehead against his as you have so many times before yet it’s so new. The bridge of your nose brushes against his, your lips hover so close he can feel your breath. You stroke behind his ear, fingers in his hair, a sensation that’s familiar, grounding.

He’s so grateful for you, for your faith in him.

You sniffle and he realizes that you’re just as emotional. Your cheeks glisten with tears when you pull away, still shaking your head in disbelief.

“Thank you,” Ezra says. Chokes. He’s never done this properly though he’s tried to show it. It’s too difficult to put into words, even for someone as verbose as he is. He’s grateful with a depth he can’t find words for though he’s always considered himself a master of them.

Tears well in your eyes again but these aren’t like the joyful ones you just shed. Your lips quiver. Ezra catches one as it slides down your cheek with his fingertips. He’s watched you cry so many times and he’s always wanted to do that.

You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. It feels better than he’s ever imagined. You fit in his arms so perfectly, he could hold you for a thousand years. He inhales your scent, familiar to him but different now. His senses have dulled but drawn close, he loses himself in it.

“Ezra,” you say after a long moment. “I just realized. You’re totally naked right now.”

Perhaps he should be embarrassed, worried that this is your first glimpse of him and you’ve seen all that there is to see. But he couldn’t care less.

The two of you descend into giggles.

—

“This is how I’m to make my debut in the world?” Ezra asks, stepping out of your bedroom.

He’s wearing the clothes you picked out for him, all that you could find that would encompass his broad frame. Your sweatpants are cinched tight around his slim waist, ending far above his ankles. Below that, his toes overhang the edge of your old flip flops. The outfit is finished with a big sweatshirt you bought several Halloweens ago– the words Witch, please emblazoned on the front in a cutesy font.

A startled snort leaves you and he scowls.

“I’m sorry,” you say, covering your smile with both hands. “You look–”

“Like a buffoon,” he says.

“Like you need to go shopping,” you correct.

You wait for Ezra outside of the dressing room, your back pressed against the door. The very first stop outside of the confines of your apartment is the local department store to get him something normal to wear. Ezra’s an oddity, everything from the way he speaks to his awkwardness adjusting to walking on two legs make him stick out. An ironic sweatshirt and sandals aren’t going to help him blend.

The excitement is still buzzing through your veins. Every few minutes you want to open the changing room door and make sure that he’s still there, still human. A couple of times you even peek under the door just to see his feet haven’t turned back into paws. It’s really happening. You’re out in the world with Ezra. Ezra the human, a man. You changed him yourself, just as your dream had predicted, but you’re less fixated on the feat of magic and more on what he’s transformed into.

Ezra’s not at all who you were expecting under the fur. He’s remarkably handsome. Tall and broad shouldered. A strong nose accentuated by a dark mustache. His mouth is almost always set in a pout, full bottom lip turned out, jaw dotted with stubble.

He’s not entirely unrecognizable. There’s something about the mirth in his smile that feels familiar, a slyness in his eye.

Still It’s hard to believe that this is your Ezra, the little cat that curled up in your lap, tiptoed behind you on the back of the couch. He’s all man, big enough to swallow you up in his embrace. If you were strangers, you’d be too intimidated to even look him in the eye.

You giggle to yourself at how ridiculous that thought is. He’s Ezra. Your best friend. It doesn’t matter what he looks like. And if you told him he was good looking he’d never shut up about it.

“What’s so funny?” he asks from the other side of the door, his voice muffled as he brings a shirt over his head.

“Just thinking about how my sweats fit you,” you say.

“Breathe a word of that to a soul—“ he grumbles.

“Are you done yet?”

He sighs and you hear the latch on the door and there he is again. It knocks the air out of your lungs to be face to face with him once again, with that new face. Ezra stares back at you. His eyes are nothing like those sharp, golden eyes you’ve known for so many years. They’re deep brown, big and round— funny enough, more like a puppy dog than a cat.

Your gaze falls down onto the outfit he’s chosen.

”What happened here?” You ask.

His shirt is only half buttoned leaving a large swath of that golden chest in view, a constellation of freckles dotting his neck clavicle. You noticed them when he was sprawled out on your bedroom floor, tried to keep your focus on those instead of letting your eyes wander too much.

”I’m afraid I haven’t gained mastery over my thumbs yet,” he admits sheepishly.

“Let me.” You try to hide your grin.

You work the buttons, careful not to let your knuckles brush his front. His warmth radiates through the thin cotton and you’re suddenly very aware of how close you’re standing. It shouldn’t be so tense. This is the same Ezra after all, the cat you snuggled to sleep every night. Nothing’s changed between you and yet it’s definitely not the same. You feel him watching you and you swear he’s holding his breath. He shifts uncomfortably.

”Are you sure these trousers are right?” He asks finally, palms grazing the fronts of his jeans. “They’re exceedingly restrictive.”

”When’s the last time you wore pants?” You ask him.

“When you tried to put me in that ridiculous cowboy get up,” he reminds you.

“You were so cute!” you laugh, remembering how he flopped down on the floor in protest.

He scoffs.

“Come see yourself,” you say, motioning towards the trio full length mirrors at the end of the hall of dressing rooms.

Ezra’s a sight to behold in his new outfit. A crisp white shirt tucked into a pair of dark jeans. If you squint you can see the man he once was in one of those romantic billowy shirts.

“Looks good,” you say.

Ezra’s furrowed brow smooths and he catches your eye in the mirror with a bashful smile.

“You have a dimple,” you say.

You keep noticing new things about him as the day goes on. There’s a little bald patch in his beard, wrinkles around his eyes when he laughs.

“I suppose I forgot,” he says, blushing. “Am I not what you expected?”

If you didn’t know him better, you’d think he sounded nervous.

“I don’t know,” you say. He’s not what you pictured yet he’s exactly right in every way. He’s better than you pictured. He looks like that. How could you expect he was existing in your presence all this time?

You remind yourself quickly how wrong it is to be thinking of Ezra that way. He’s the closest thing you have to a brother. How many nights did you stay up pouring your heart out to him about life? It’s just the novelty, you assure yourself. Once you get used to him, it’ll be different.

“I guess I thought you’d look like Ichabod Crane,” you tease.

“Hilarious.”

––

“You should go to the Grand Canyon,” you say.

All night, you’ve been brainstorming a list for Ezra, all of the things he can finally do now that he’s turned. The two of you already crossed off the first thing— eat dinner at a fancy restaurant— and you’re working on the second item— drinks at the local watering hole.

It’s a busy Saturday night but you worked some magic to get a cozy table. The place is rustic by design, the kind of bar invented for the Brooklyn transplants that are renovating barns into Air BnBs.

It’s chock full of mortals but Ezra couldn’t care less if he were surrounded by the witch hunters of Salem, just being out and about with you feels like a thrill.

“What about having a human body is necessary to visit the Grand Canyon?” Ezra asks.

The more drinks you had in you, the more esoteric the ideas became.

“I don’t know. You could hike?” you say.

“I think I had the advantage with four legs. I’ll pass,” he says.

“I guess you’re right,” you say. Then you point an excited finger at him. “Learn to drive!”

He tilts his head, considering it but you’re already onto the next one.

“Dancing!”

“I’m not sure I know how it’s done these days,” he says. He’d enjoyed dancing when he was human the first time, mainly because it gave him ample opportunity to touch and flirt.

“I don’t know. You just move,” you tell him. “Come on. I’ll dance with you right now.” You reach your hand out for him across the table to show that you really mean it.

Ezra’s seen you dance hundreds of times. At witches gatherings, of course, but many more times in the kitchen, wearing your pajamas and singing off key, you scooping him up and rocking him to the beat. You might not be a good dancer, he’s not one to judge, but he’s always loved watching your hips find a rhythm.

He’s still unsteady on his feet with less than 24 hours on his new legs and yet he couldn’t care less if he looks a fool if it means he can dance with you. The two of you are sure to draw attention— no one else is dancing despite the fact that the music’s so loud he has to shout to be heard. That doesn’t bother him. Let these mortals see you with him for once. Let him pretend for a moment that you’re his.

He takes your hand, his heart speeding up in anticipation of your body being close, when your face falls. Your gaze is somewhere past him and you pull out of his grasp.

“Oh, fuck,” you say.

Ezra looks over his shoulder to see a familiar face. A lanky guy carrying a guitar case stops in his tracks when he spies you. The last time Ezra saw this mortal he had his paws all over you.

“Shit. I completely forgot. Connor’s playing a gig here tonight. He invited me,” you groan.

This fuck. Ezra’s joyous mood is jolted by the memory of Connor slobbering over your neck, the sounds of the two of you on the couch that he tried desperately to block out, the jealousy that sickened him. Here was one of the mortals that had touched and tasted you in the way Ezra had only dreamed interrupting his first chance to truly be close to you.

But his lips crack into a wicked smile as Connor’s face twists in disappointment. Ezra knows how it looks to him. You’re here at his show where he hoped to woo you with song and you’re cozied up to another man. How many times had Ezra himself been forced to endure such humiliation?

“Hey,” you say with unconvincing friendliness, selling it by standing up to offer a hug when Connor finally works up the nerve to come by.

He keeps a wary eye on Ezra who in turn sits up straighter, chest out. He makes himself larger the same way he would passing one of the strays in the graveyard. It’s been hard to adjust to his new body, constantly bumping into things because he’s bigger, off balance without a tail. But right now, he couldn’t be more pleased with his new form.

“Who’s your friend?” Connor asks without exchanging any pleasantries. He’s not masking his annoyance very well.

“Oh. This is—“

“Ezra,” Ezra offers.

“Hey,” Connor says dismissively.

“He’s a friend of mine,” you add quickly. “Wanted to tag along to your show.”

“I hear you’re quite the talent,” he says.

There’s a twitch in Connor’s brow as you kick Ezra under the table.

“I guess you need to go set up,” you encourage, so ready to be rid of him.

Ezra has other plans.

“You must have time for a drink first. What’ll it be?” He asks. He can feel your eyes on him, trying to figure out his ulterior motive.

“IPA,” Connor answers after a moment’s hesitation.

Ezra’s powers tingle as he waves over the waitress.

Connor finds a chair and joins you at the little table. The beer sets his mind at ease as you bullshit about how Ezra is an old friend, trying to save this guy’s pride. It seems like he buys it. Like all mortals, he’s a bit dim.

He’s ridiculous, too. Talks a lot without asking you questions. Thinks he’s terribly interesting when he’s no different from the other mortal men that have shared your bed.

“Isn’t your cat’s name Ezra?” Connor finally realizes after droning on about David Bowie as if he were the one that heard an original pressing of Ziggy Stardust.

You stutter for a moment but you don’t have to come up with an answer because Ezra chimes in.

“Now, what was it you were attempting to elucidate with regards to psychedelic rock?” Ezra asks.

You stifle a laugh, choking down some of your drink to hide it. This time, beneath the table you’re pressing your knee into his.

“Uh,” Connor says, trying to gather his thoughts. “Yeah.”

He clears his throat, runs a hand through his hair then reaches for his beer again.

“Well a lot of people think it starts with The Beatles but actually,” Connor lifts his drink to his lips in a theatrical pause, taking a swig, but his expression contorts in confusion, then disgust. He spits the beer back into his glass and with it comes a spider, it’s spindly legs thrashing about wildly. “Ah! Fuck!” he sputters.

In his fright, Connor’s arms flail cartoonishly. The glass flies from his grasp and hits the table top, spilling its contents in all directions. You cry out, jumping up to avoid getting a lap full of IPA. The spider spins in the slippery puddle, trying to scurry every which way. Connor tries to distance himself from the arachnid but he legs of his chair catch and he topples over backwards onto the floor.

All conversation dies away around you as the other patrons have turned to watch the chaotic scene– Connor’s feet pointed up towards the ceiling, the floor beneath the table pooling with spilled beer. Ezra sits cool as a cucumber, his side of the table miraculously dry.

”Careful there, Connor,” he says. “Just a pretty little spider.”

You shoot him a look and he shrugs innocently. Your eyes say behave but it’s contradicted by a budding smile.

“You good?” you ask.

Connor lays there wincing, probably much more embarrassed than he is bruised. Ezra offers a hand to help him up, all friendly smiles. Connor scowls but he has no choice but to accept, letting himself be hoisted to his feet by the other man. The crowd loses interest as Connor dusts himself off.

“What a tumult,” Ezra says with a laugh. He slaps Connor on the shoulder so hard that he stumbles forward.

The waitress comes over with a bar rag and a judgemental look.

“Did you hurt yourself?” You ask.

”I’m fine,” Connor answers a little too quickly. He flattens his ruffled hair. “Listen, maybe I should just go warm up.” He motions towards the little platform that serves as the stage.

”A wise idea,” Ezra says and Connor darts away.

”You’re bad,” you say but you’re practically bursting with laughter.

Ezra considers continuing his mischief while Connor’s performing— make him play the wrong notes or break a guitar string— but he doesn’t have to. Connor’s eyes keep finding you as he sings his whiney little songs and each time, Ezra’s right there. Leaning in close to talk to you over the music, making little quips that have you close to spitting out your drink. Right now, you couldn’t care less about this mortal, busy trying to convince Ezra that karaoke should be added to his adventure list.

“Let’s go,” you say after draining your glass.

“But your friend’s not done,” he teases.

“I think we’ve heard enough,” you say.

You offer Connor a sad little wave as you get up from the table, taking Ezra’s hand in yours to lead him through the throng of people crowding the bar.

He watches Connor’s face fall as his eyes follow you to the exit. It’s a silly little revenge but to Ezra it’s delicious, a comeuppance for every mortal that’s been in your bed. Maybe Connor thinks you’re taking Ezra home to do the same to him. Good. It’s so delightful that Ezra doesn’t even care that it isn’t true.

––

“What have I unleashed on the world?” you ask with laughter, crossing the threshold of your apartment.

“I have no idea to what you are referring,” Ezra says but there’s a smirk on his lips.

“You’ve gone from hairballs in shoes to public humiliation.” You should be more sympathetic to poor Connor but you can’t stop giggling. Every time you recall the sight of him flying backwards, flapping his arms, you’re in stitches again.

“Just a little harmless magic to warm up my powers,” he replies. “Not to worry, little mage, I’m sure he’ll still be more than happy to accept a booty call.”

You shake your head. Between the awful conversation, the spew of spider, and the wailing of his songs, you have no interest in revisiting things with Connor.

In the kitchen you pour two glasses of water, adding a few drops of a tincture you keep handy for hangovers. You’re still a little tipsy, will probably wake up with a headache in the morning, but you don’t care. You can’t remember the last time you had so much fun with another witch. Not that it should surprise you. It’s Ezra after all.

”You know, you can’t fuck with these mortals too much. You do that to the wrong guy and they’ll start hunting us again,” you warn. You hand Ezra one of the glasses and flop down on the couch beside him.

“But it’s alright to toy with their emotions?” Ezra retorts. “How many hearts have you broken?”

You scoff in mock offense but you know he’s right. You’ve never let yourself get attached to any mortals. Somewhere, deep down, you knew you’d never have a serious relationship with one of them so there was no fear of falling in love, no worry about their feelings, no risk of getting hurt.

Now that you’ve stopped moving, fatigue sets in. You rest your head on Ezra’s shoulder. You’re starting to get used to the fact that you can actually do that but it hasn’t gotten old yet. An absent grin plays on your lips.

“Did you have a good first human day?” you ask.

You feel his chuckle under your cheek.

“I did indeed,” he says.

Your smile widens. Ezra’s arm wraps around your shoulders, his fingers gently grazing circles over your sleeve, and you nuzzle further into his chest.

“Thank you, little mage,” he says.

”Mm,” is all you manage.

Your heavy eyelids begin to drift closed. It’s so cozy, you imagine yourself as a little cat in Ezra’s arms. You wonder if this is how it felt for him, cuddled in your lap, getting scritches under his chin, and you swear you’re purring. No, you’ve fallen asleep and started snoring.

You force yourself awake with a groan. Ezra’s sitting contentedly beside you, watching you shift and stretch.

“I’ve got to sleep,” you yawn and manage to drag yourself onto your feet.

Ezra doesn’t move, just nods and says, “Good night.”

“Are you staying up?” you ask. He must be exhausted after such a roller coaster of a day.

“I think I’ll sleep here,” he tells you.

You falter just outside of your bedroom.

“You don’t have to,” you say.

“I should,” he says.

“Oh. Okay.” You’re not sure why it hurts. “Well, then you take the bed. I'll sleep out here,” you offer.

“It’s your bed,” he says.

A pang of guilt punches you in the gut. How many times had you reminded him of that?

“It’s alright. I’ve slept here on numerous occasions,” he assures you.

You linger for a moment, trying to come up with some good reason why he shouldn’t stay on the couch. It shouldn’t be important to you. He might want his own space, some privacy after all these years, yet it feels like you’re losing something.

“Let me get some sheets—“

“I know where the linens are,” he says. Obviously. He lives here too.

Eventually you have to stop standing there like a weirdo and go to the bedroom. Door open or closed? You leave it somewhere in between.

“G’night,” you say.

You lay in bed listening to Ezra in the linen closet, then shucking his jeans and settling on the sofa. Suddenly you’re wide awake and sober as a judge, ruminating on what this means for the future. The two of you can only slip further and further away. He wants his own place to sleep, he’ll want his own place to live. It’s only natural. He’s not yours anymore. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?

You roll over, pulling the covers up to your ears. Then off. You punch your pillow into shape. You strain your ears, listening for Ezra's breathing in the next room. Is he sleeping? You lean off the side of your bed, peering into the darkness and do your best to make out his form in the shadows.

Soon Ezra will have his own life, his own friends. He’s always been his own person. At least that’s what you’ve always said. How long have you been deluding yourself?

You shift again, grabbing your pillow and squeezing it in your arms to mimic his cat’s body. No luck. Nothing’s the same as Ezra. The occasions when you’ve fallen asleep without him clutched to you have been few and far between. Loneliness aches in your chest. This wasn’t something you’d thought through before you cast your spell.

Finally you throw back the sheets and march into the living room.

Ezra lays on the little couch as best he can, bare to the waist clad only in the boxers you made him buy. One of his long legs is sprawled over the side of the couch, the other tucked under his body. His eyes are wide open, staring up at the ceiling, an arm folded beneath his head.

“I can’t sleep,” you say.

“Likewise,” he says.

“This is ridiculous. Ez, you’ve always slept with me,” you complain.

“That was different,” he says, sitting up on an elbow.

“Well–” You want to tell him that nothing’s changed but it doesn’t really feel like the truth. Everything’s felt different today. You throw up your hands. “This is weird.”

He looks at you for a long time, the swell of his bottom lip turning into a deep frown.

“Just. Come on,” you say.

You leave the door open for him as you go back to your room and climb into bed. It’s his turn to hesitate, loitering in the doorway. Moonlight catches on the slope of his shoulder and the angle of his nose, glints in his unsure eyes. You sit with your arms crossed until finally he relents.

It’s certainly not the same as it was to have your cat beside you. Ezra occupies a large part of your double bed but he leaves a wide swath of mattress between you, keeping his limbs close to his body. Your instincts tell you to reach out for him but you don’t want to overstep this new boundary.

Despite the awkwardness, the delicate balance neither of you want to upset, feeling his warmth on the sheets, you’re finally able to breathe a sigh and sink into your pillow at last. His warm eyes gaze at you, giving you a long, slow blink.

“Better?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you answer.

And soon you’re both fast asleep.

––

Ezra’s cock greets him in the morning like an old friend.

He can feel your breasts warm against his back, your arm curled around his waist the same as always. Despite his efforts to keep his distance, you found each other in the night, sleeping the only way you know how. His body responded in kind.

This was what he feared, why he tried– briefly– to be good and sleep on the couch. Though to say that you’d twisted his arm was a lie. He’d given in far too quickly because he wanted you too much.

He can’t keep thinking about you like this if he wants to stay close to you, if he plans on surviving as a human. But all he wants to do is crawl down the bed, bury his face between your thighs, and make you his.

Before he does something rash, he slips away from you. You’re fast asleep thanks to the drinks and the late night. As Ezra rolls off the mattress, you let out a complaint, a little whimper that goes straight to his groin. He freezes, cock aching, and watches you roll over. You’re beautiful bathed in morning light, the sheets laying gently across your curves. If only he could run his hand over their outline.

His movements are not exactly cat-like as he creeps into the bathroom, the old wooden floors protesting with each step. As soon as the lock clicks he’s divesting himself of these ridiculous underthings. And there he is, that old menace. His length glistens with leaking precum, tip flushed red, begging to be touched. Ezra grips the base carefully but it still elicits a groan. He’s too sensitive— hundreds of years of pent up desire and a night beside you have him dizzy.

He gives himself an experimental stroke and it’s like lightning. His knees buckle and he has to hold himself up with his palm against the back of the door. With a silent curse and a steadying breath, Ezra spits into his fist and goes again. Slow, gentle. He knows he won’t last but he’s afraid his new body won’t be able to take the rapture. It’s divine torture, his mind soon swimming in pleasure.

Every dream he’s had, each time you danced under the moon or came out of the shower skin beaded with water, it all rushes past his eyes a cacophony of obscenities. Thank the stars you can’t see him like this, more animalistic than when he was one. Repulsive. Fucking his fist as he thinks of you, the only witch that’s ever cared for him. Defiling you in his mind.

He promises his guilty conscience that he’ll never do this again. He just needs it this once as his muscles strain and tighten. It’s bliss and agony all at once and he’s so close to breaking, he can hardly bear it.

“Ezra?” he hears you from the bedroom. Your voice is still rough and husky from sleep and it’s more than enough to push him over the edge.

His head falls back, eyes squeezed shut, and he chokes down the growl that’s erupted from his chest. His hips jump and his hand is coated in hot release.

“Ez?” you call out.

Ezra swallows dryly, inhales as deeply as he can manage.

“Just a moment,” he manages to croak out as his forehead comes to rest against the cool wood of the bathroom door.

“Oh,” you say with relief. “You weren’t there. I thought-— I was afraid maybe the spell went wrong.”

“Not to worry, little mage,” he says. “I’m still under your spell.”

—

The two of you spend the day in the basement, doing magic together. Ezra shows off the spells that were something of a specialty for him. Mostly, they’re party tricks. (“This one used to send the mortals frothing,” he says as he changes a glass of water into wine.)

The only blemish on an otherwise perfect day came when you offered helpfully, “You know, if we can clean out the spare room down here, you could have a place of your own.”

It stung though Ezra knew you would expect him to leave the nest eventually. Maybe you’d heard what he’d been doing behind the bathroom door and were hinting he find somewhere else to abuse himself.

It feels good to be doing magic again, even better to share with you. He’s a little rusty, working a muscle that’s been comatose for years. You don’t seem to mind. You’re impressed, just as giddy as he is, though you’re not amused when he turns a bowl of pasta noodles into worms.

“If you ever do that to me, I’ll turn you back,” you swear.

You’re particularly fascinated with a piece of magic Ezra shows you where he ignites a flame in his hand.

“Show me again,” you say.

He strikes his thumb against his fingertips as though they were flint on steel and the fire sparks. You watch with a furrowed brow, rehearsing the motion with your own hand.

“You can do it with a candle. It’s quite the same,” he explains. The flame glows orange, hovering in his palm until he snuffs it in his fist.

You hold your hand forward and mimic his motion to no avail.

“It’s not a snap,” he says in reply to your frustrated groan. “Observe.” He demonstrates again, slower this time.

“That’s what I did,” you complain.

After a few more attempts you shake your head.

“I can’t do it.”

“You turned a cat into a man. This is well within your abilities,” he assures you.

You thrust your hand towards him. “Show me.”

“Very well,” he says.

It’s not like your touch is new to him and still he swoons as he cups your hand in his. Maybe it’s because yours is so much smaller, almost delicate. It’s the intimacy of this moment, the magic, that has his heart hammering. Your powers vibrate beneath your skin, heating you from within.

You don’t have to stand so close but you slot yourself against him, your shoulders against his chest.

“Relax,” he whispers into the shell of your ear. He can’t help himself, resting his other hand on your hip.

You take a deep breath and he marvels at how easily you unwind in his arms. If you turn towards him, your lips will brush.

”Focus,” he says as if his own head isn’t swimming.

You nod and Ezra guides your thumb across your fingers.

The fire doesn’t just spark to life in your hand but it ignites as if it were fed by kerosene, flaring wildly. It burns so hot he can feel it radiating through your fingers. You let out a delighted squeal, your smile brighter than the flame itself.

“Holy shit!” You turn to share your joy with Ezra, so close your noses touch as you move. You giggle.

He can’t help but grin himself. You are truly amazing.

It all shatters in an instant. You hear the jingle of the shop door above and the fire in your fist fizzles to ash. You freeze except for your eyes that grow wide with horror. Footsteps cross overhead, the floorboards creaking. The bookstore is closed just as it is every Halloween week. There are no customers coming in. There’s only one person that could be here.

Ezra hears Margot call out your name and his stomach drops.

”Are you down there?” she says. She’s just at the top of the stairs where you left the door propped open.

”Uh huh,” you answer. You still haven’t moved an inch, just stand there dumbly.

You’d talked briefly about how the two of you would break the news to Aunt Margot but you hadn’t come to a decision. You still had time to figure it out and you were both so giddy that you couldn’t imagine a world where she was anything but delighted to see what he’d become. Suddenly it’s an incredible risk and neither of you are prepared.

“”I just kept thinking about you here all alone. I left as soon as I could,” she says. “Everybody was asking about–“ her eyes finally land on Ezra and she stiffens ”–you.”

“Aunt Margot–” you try.

Percy, who’s just peeked his head out of her breast pocket, lets out a squeal.

“What have you done?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper.

He’s not sure how she knows– Margot is perceptive in ways neither you or Ezra could anticipate– but she doesn’t need to be told.

She stares at the man before her and he’s brought back to the look on Cee’s face years upon years ago when he stood over Damon’s limp body.

It’s a punch in his gut delivered by himself long ago, it all slips away. The party is over, the jig is up. The past two days evaporate like one of his dreams. Those sweet mornings waking up beside you, the swell of your touch, the thought of a future. He’d really believed it could go on like that forever.

You look as terrified as your aunt but you swallow it down and say, “I turned him back.”

“That’s not possible,” Margot says.

“I’m afraid it is,” Ezra says. His words don’t hold any of their usual cool confidence.

“Is this why you stayed home?”

“No—“ you try.

“You lied to me,” Margot says. “And you had no right to do this.”

“We had no intention of doing this before you departed,” Ezra begins.

“The laws have changed,” you snap. Ezra wraps his hand around yours, not sure if he’s protecting you or grounding you before you lose your cool.

“Well, they’re still laws. And shame on you, Ezra, for letting her do that,” Margot snipes.

“I talked him into it,” you say.

“Oh, yes, I’m sure it took a lot of convincing,” she replies with an eye roll. “Have you lost your mind?”

“It’s unjust what they did to him,” you argue.

“He was convicted of killing another witch. I’m sorry, Ezra, but that is no petty crime.”

“That other witch was a child abuser!” you snap.

Ezra clenches his jaw. You’re the only other person he’s told about Cee and now seems like an inopportune moment to start pouring out his guts. Margo’s sharp eyes look to him for confirmation, her frown softening with surprise.

”I make no excuse for my transgressions,” he says.

“You should turn yourself in to the elders before they find out on their own,” Margot says.

”No,” you say.

”She’s right,” Ezra says, his eyes cast to the floor.

“No,” you say once more. ”Ezra served his time. And he should never have been such an inhumane punishment.”

Margot hears none of it, shaking her head with her eyes screwed shut. “The elders will take your powers for this. Or worse. They’ll make you both into cats. And you did this all under my roof. Did you think this through at all?”

Reality sinks in the pit of Ezra’s stomach. He’s put you in danger but Margot too. She’s always been good to him, one of the few people he enjoys and he’s gotten her mixed up in a crime.

”You weren’t even here,” you say, your voice wavering. Clearly the guilt is creeping through your veins as well.

”Go upstairs, dear. I need to speak to Ezra alone,“ she demands.

”No,” you say with indignation.

“It’s alright,” Ezra tells you.

You look between the two of them. Margot stares at him as if you’ve already left the room and you have no choice but to obey.

Margot says nothing, shooting daggers at Ezra for an excruciating amount of time. At last, she puts her hand to her brow in exasperation and does her best to collect her emotions.

”Let me get a look at you,” Margot says when she stands tall again.

Ezra steps forward, presenting himself with a slight bow as he was accustomed to do. He has many years on her but he currently feels like a boy caught by the schoolmarm, about to get his knuckles rapped.

She takes his hand, turns it over in her own, inspecting the magic you’ve done. Margot lets out an indignant scoff.

“How did she do it?” Margot asks, her voice half suspicion, half wonder.

“A potion. A spell. It was by her own hand,” he explains. “She foresaw it in a dream.”

Margot fingertips brush her lips, the whirl of thoughts racing through her mind plain on her face.

“You know what kind of witch has the powers to cast a spell like that?” he asks.

Her answer is a nod and a sigh, her shoulders straightening. Still lost in thought, Ezra fills the silence with his plea.

“Margot, I have served your family for two centuries but I have never cared for another witch as deeply as I do your niece,” he admits. “I’m well aware that what we’ve done is bold and rash. Foolish, even. But I promise you that I will not let any harm come to her so long as I’m living.”

His heart beats so hard, he’s afraid it might leap from his chest.

Margot looks into his eyes and there’s a momentary prickle along his scalp. Her lips quirk and her expression softens and Ezra feels too vulnerable. He’s let her see too much of the truth. If he could, he’d climb out of his own skin. The moment passes as Margot masks her sympathy, raising her chin and crossing her arms in a way that reminds him of you.

“Fine. This isn’t an endorsement,” she says. “But you can tell her I’m not going to rat you out.”

“Thank you,” he says. He knows that he’s been given yet another gift he doesn’t deserve. Hopefully Margot can sense his gratitude as she did his conviction. He heads after you, towards the back door of the shop but is stopped by the sound of his name. Turning, he sees Margot with her keen eye on him.

“Be careful,” she warns.

He’s not sure what she’s referring to but he knows she’s right.

🐈‍⬛

Comments and reblogs appreciated! Asks always open! I'd love to hear from you!

#ezra prospect #ezra #ezra x f!reader #ezra prospect x f!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #prospect #prospect fic #witchy

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jakesduskwood · 7 months ago

Text

even statues crumble if they're made to wait

Pairing: Jake x Fem!MC

Genre: Post-Episode 10 Duskwood, Post-Episode 1 Moonvale

Words: 8,916

Summary: It's been three months since the explosion in the mine. Three months since Hannah was found. And MC's accepted that Jake is never coming back. When she gets roped into another missing person's case, it makes for the perfect distraction. Jake is dead. It's fine. That is, until she finds herself on the phone with Alan Bloomgate who says he has something to show her. But it's fine. Jake is dead.

Until he's not.

EPISODE-1 MOONVALE SPOILERS AHEAD (MAYBE)!

[ A/N: Hello! :)

I know it's been a while since I've done this, but I finished Moonvale Episode 1 and if you've seen the ending (and used its Duskwood code), you know what happened and how excited I was to receive that bit of Duskwood. So, I took it and ran with it, and out came this extremely long fic. I did not proofread this as it took me literally almost 12 hours to write so it is completely and 100% me and my love for Jake and I hope you love it.

Side note: I suck with anything related to timelines, so I made one up on my own. I know Episode 1 of Moonvale takes place over the course of a day or two, but for the purpose of this fic, it made sense to make it longer, so it's not a typo, or me losing my mind, it's just the way my brain processed this.

Enjoy! :) ]

It’s been three months since the explosion in the mine.

Three months since Richy had been killed. Three months since Hannah was rescued. Three months since I had last spoken to Thomas or Cleo or Lilly or…or Jessy. I didn’t blame her then and I don’t blame her now. Any of them, really. I didn’t share the bond they had with each other. I wasn’t from Duskwood. It didn’t matter that we’d experienced a tragedy together—and yes, perhaps them more than me, but I loved Richy too. I had lost Richy too. And Jake—

But mostly, I think they just wanted to forget. To move on. They didn’t want to remember that their friend had been capable of…of that. And I was a constant reminder of that to them. So I understood why we didn’t necessarily talk anymore.

The one person I did keep in contact with from Duskwood, oddly enough, other than the occasional update from Alan Bloomgate, was Dan. We weren’t best friends or anything, but he allowed me to check in on our friends in a way that I didn’t know how to do with anyone else. Maybe because I thought he was the least affected among them. I knew he cared about Hannah, but he wasn’t to her what Thomas or Cleo or Lilly were. And he wasn’t to Richy what Jessy had been.

I’d learned from him that Thomas and Hannah had broken up. There was no bad blood, but Thomas hadn’t quite figured out how to accept the things he’d learned about his girlfriend when she’d been gone, and Hannah hadn’t quite figured out how to re-trust someone after Richy. Even if that person was Thomas. But I’d hoped they would find their way back to each other in the end.

I thought about reaching out to Jessy every once in a while—even just as an apology for everything that had happened. I’m sorry that Hannah was found at the expense of Richy. I’m sorry that he did this to you. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner. We should have. We should have. We should have. I miss you. But I never send it. I’m not all that sure she’d respond anyway.

Cleo and I were never all that close. She has her best friend back, so I think she’s probably as okay as she can be. Helping Hannah find a new kind of normal in a time where her childhood friend had kidnapped her in order to prove a point. I don’t know how you come back from that—I don’t know how you come back from knowing that you killed somebody at all.

I hadn’t found the courage to ask if somebody had told Hannah about Jake.

Not that I think it would matter anyway. I hadn’t heard from him since before the explosion in the mine, which was, like I said—three months ago. I waited the appropriate amount of time—twenty-five days—before I broke down and concluded that maybe he hadn’t survived. Which just piled a shit-ton of guilt onto my shoulders because it was supposed to be me in that mine. He had gone in place of me and now he was dead.

It was the only explanation that made sense. I was used to Jake disappearing for days at a time, but never as long as he had been now. And he didn’t seem like the type to tell me he loved me and then leave without a single explanation. Not unless he had to. But it had been three months and as much as I missed him, as much as my chest ached with the thought that we would never eat Chinese food out of shitty motels and have that on-the-run ending we talked about, I had accepted that he wasn’t coming back.

I wonder if he had known about Richy or if he had died still thinking Michael Hanson was the one who had kidnapped Hannah. I wonder if his last thoughts were of me. Maybe it’s selfish, but I kind of hope they were, because I’m pretty sure I’ll think about him for the rest of my life.

I wonder what it would have felt like to run my hands through his hair. To kiss him. To spend every waking moment with him and know it was because I loved him. Because I would have. Talking to Jake became about more than just finding Hannah. It became a part of my day I looked forward to more than anything else. He confided in me in a way that told me he never had with anyone, maybe not even Hannah, and I needed that from somebody. I needed somebody to trust in me the way that Jake did. I needed somebody to love me the way that Jake did.

It was strange—and maybe a little ironic—the thought that something so beautiful could come out of something so tragic.

Anyway, my point is: it’s been a long couple of months. Of thinking about my friends. Of thinking about Jake. Of wondering if I should have done things differently. I should have gone to Duskwood to help. Not even with the mine, but sooner. I could have. I could’ve gone when Jessy was attacked on the way home. I could’ve gone when the group made plans to cut out of town and hide away in the house Richy had found. Selfishly, I should have. In that moment, when they were settled around the fire and Lilly called me, I had never remembered wanting anything more. I should have grabbed Jake—metaphorically, maybe even literally—and rode it out with them to the end.

I don’t stop missing them after three months. Of wishing things could have been different. Wishing I could have done more. But exactly ninety-five days after the explosion in the mine, seventy days since I had accepted that Jake was never coming back, twenty-two days since I had last heard from anybody from Duskwood (Dan included), my phone dings with a new message.

And the cycle starts all over again.

It’s somebody named Eric, who claims he needs my help to find his friend Adam, who disappeared while he was waiting for a ride in someplace called Redlog Pines. And much like with Duskwood, I have never heard of Redlog, and the case reminds me way too much of Thomas’ first message to me, so much that it makes my chest ache, but I can’t say no because there’s somebody missing, and if I’d say no the first time, God knows where Hannah would be.

So, I say yes, and I help out where I can, and Eric decides he needs to bring about four more friends in on his little plan and I try my best to stay emotionally unattached because I remember everything that happened the last time and I can’t go through that again. I offer up information when I can and keep my words short and careful because I’m not ready to get attached to somebody else I know I might never meet.

I know how this ends.

Two days in, Ash, one of Eric’s friends, brings up my Duskwood past and the unhealed wound I’ve been trying to mend breaks open again. She asks about Richy, and about the mine, and then because I’m me and I can’t help myself, I tell her about Jake. She tells me the news never mentioned another body and I shove that thought to the back of my head because hoping for something that will never come true will kill me.

Four days into Adam’s disappearance, and the police not giving a shit—as Charlie, somebody who reminds me far too much of Richy for comfort, points out—my phone beeps with an incoming call from somebody I haven’t spoken to in a while.

“Go for [MC].” I answer my phone.

Ever since Hannah had been found in the mine and Jake had��you know, my phone had been more silent than I’d gotten used to. Until this new case. But even that—it was only a few days old and I didn’t want to go down the same path with them that I did with my friends in Duskwood. We didn’t really know each other that long, sure—even though sometimes it’d felt like it—but it felt like I’d finally been a part of something. Like, I had found these people who had chosen me for me.

And originally, maybe they had. Maybe they’d had every intention of keeping me around, but then Richy was the Man Without A Face and Alan Bloomgate had rescued Hannah and nothing was the same as it had been when we’d met each other. We knew too many secrets about each other by the time the town settled. Secrets we would have to take to the grave.

Or maybe I’m losing my mind a bit and I had really only been a means to an end.

Either way.

“Alan?” I raise my voice when there’s nothing but breathing on the other end of the line. “Did you mean to call me?”

His tone is clipped. “I found something.”

“You found something.” I repeat.

My heart clenches. For all I know, it might fall into my stomach. As far I know, from watching the news, from what Ash told me, Jake’s body was never found. Richy’s was. Or what was left of him to find, anyway. I had assumed that there just hadn’t been enough of Jake left. The thought left me nauseous, but it was better than hoping for something I knew I could never have.

“I’m sending it to your phone now.” He responds. “Let me know what you think of this.”

And then he hangs up.

That was a riveting conversation, I think as my phone dings with a message. I do my best to ignore my other messages—contacts from Duskwood I’m still not ready to acknowledge—and click Alan Bloomgate. He sent me a video that looks like—oh God.

Immediately, I’m overcome with emotion as an all-too-familiar forest pops up on my phone. It’s a video of Alan’s bodycam footage. He’s searching the Duskwood forest. A forest I’ve seen too many times in the background of other video calls.

I watch as he stumbles upon an object that’s too dark to make out at first. When he gets closer, it’s clear that it’s a backpack. It’s simple. Black. Nothing about it that screams this is mine and I left it here about anybody in particular. You stupid, stupid idiot, I tell my heart when it rattles against my chest in hope. He’s dead.

Alan stands and treks away from the backpack—I want to scream at him to go back, to open it and look through it and tell me if it’s what my heart aches to believe, but I can’t, because this is a video and I’m simply watching with wide eyes, waiting for…for something. But then. But then, he moves further into the forest and I watch as he stumbles upon an object that makes my knees tremble and tears rush to my eyes and my hands shake. A black hoodie. It looks like it’s been through hell, with holes scattered up the sleeves and dirt cakes into the hood, but it’s unmistakably his.

And then—Alan lifts the hood and picks up something that makes me sink to my knees with a sob that wracks my entire frame. Because I’m staring at Jake’s mask. The mask he doesn’t go anywhere without. The mask that protects him. And so my relief is short-lived, because I realize that even if he’s alive—which seems like a very big possibility at this point—he’s alive without the things that he needs to survive.

And then the anger kicks in. Because if he’s been alive, on his own, for three months—why has he not contacted me? Unless he survived the mine but he didn’t survive the after. But that didn’t make any sense. So, okay, he wasn’t dead. But that didn’t make any sense either. He told me he wouldn’t let them catch him. Because catching that meant he would be apart from me. Did something happen that prevented him from being able to reach out and tell me he was at least okay? A quick text that said didn’t die in the explosion in the mine, you don’t need to mourn me, by the way, going off radar for another year. Did he think I would have given up on him?

I wipe my eyes and shoot a message to Alan.

ME: Recently?? Did nobody search the forests before?

ALAN: Searched the forests for what, [MC]? The logical assumption seemed to be that if anybody was inside the mine when Richy set the fire, they would have perished alongside him. Officers were stationed outside every known entrance and exit. Besides, after the story you and your friends spun around this town, do you think anybody would have gone back into its forests?

ME: But it’s possible?

ALAN: I would say these items had been there for some time. But I would say it is likely he ditched them when he fled the mine, yes.

Another sob tears through my throat. Jake is alive. I don’t know quite what that means for us as of now, but I know it’s the best news I’ve heard since Hannah was found. Jake is alive. He’s out there somewhere. And even if it’s been three months, and even if I’m a little bit mad at him right now, I know that if he was here, I would throw my arms around his neck and hold on to him until someone dragged me off, and even then—I would fight kicking and screaming.

I close out of my messages with Alan and pull up a conversation I haven’t had the heart to look at in quite some time.

ME: Jake’s alive.

LILLY: …

LILLY: Have you spoken to him?

ME: Alan called. He found some of Jake’s things in Duskwood. I don’t know a lot of details. But I know he made it out of the mine.

Lilly types for a long while, but she doesn’t respond. I don’t take it personally. I think it’s probably hard for her to be happy that her brother’s okay while also trying to accept that her sister may never be okay again. Her sister, who had once-upon-a-time been kind-of-sort-of in love with their brother she didn’t know she had. I think that would probably mess with any family’s heads. And on top of all that, you throw in manslaughter and a kidnapping. I wouldn’t wish anybody, not even my worst enemy, to have had to go through what the Donforts had.

When it becomes adamant that Lilly isn’t going to respond, I start scrolling through messages with the rest of the group in Duskwood. I click on Jessy. I’m here if you need me. That had been the last thing I sent to her, a couple of days after Richy’s death. She hadn’t responded. I click out of Jessy’s contact and click on Thomas’ instead. Thank you for everything. That had been his last message to me after we found Hannah. I’d liked it. I hadn’t expected at the time it would be the last thing we’d ever say to each other. I click out of Thomas’ and click on Richy. So, you want to turn yourself in? I’d asked. That was before he called me. Before he lit a match and burned himself and the mine to the ground. Some people would call that heroic. I mostly call him a coward.

I click on Jake’s name. It’s been a while since I read messages between the two of us. Maybe before I had accepted—thought—he was dead. In that twenty-five-day period when I’d hoped with all I’d had that he would come back. I love you. That was the last message he sent me. I’d responded with I love you too, Jake. Then, four days later: Are you okay? A week later: Jake, please, you’re starting to scare me. I know you said you would contact when you could, but it’s been a week. After twenty-five days, when I had finally accepted our fate, I’d sent one final message: I hope you know that I love you, and I will always care about you, but I think it’s time for me to move on. I’m so sorry that I sent you into the mine. It should have been me. And I will probably feel the guilt from that for the rest of my life. Thank you for everything. Take care of yourself, wherever you are.

After that, I had closed out of our messages and hadn’t looked back. Partly because I couldn’t bear the pain of it. It felt like I had given up on him. I hadn’t—if I had thought for a second that he was alive, if I knew then what I know now, I would have never sent that message. But holding out hope for somebody who I thought was a ghost at the time? That was slowly killing me.

It’s only then that I notice the screen flickering. Much like the way it used to whenever Jake would hack into my phone. I don’t think he’s much in the mood to be hacking right now, but somehow, I know it’s him. When had he done this? Recently? If I had opened our messages, would I have seen this ten—twenty—even fifty days ago? It hadn’t looked like this the last time I texted him. Did he see my last message about needing to move on? Was that why he hadn’t reached out to tell me that he was okay? Because he thought I was moving on happily without him?

No, my brain supplies. He wouldn’t. He would reach out anyway, because he knows how much the thought of him not being okay would have destroyed you.

The screen flickers once more and then a message pops up, bright and blue-tinted and clear as day on my phone.

[MC]

I WILL FIND YOU

And the world around me shifts.

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

Maybe it sounds crazy, considering I’ve never seen his face before, but I always thought that if I’d ran into Jake one day, maybe on the street or at one of those motels he stayed at or maybe even in Duskwood, surrounded by all our friends, I would know it was him. I would, because it’s him, and it’s me, and we’re the only two people who understand each other quite the way we do.

I still believe that.

I believe it when I book my flight to Duskwood (or rather, twenty miles outside of town, which is the closest airport). I believe it when I board the airplane and find a seat next to a mother with her screaming child and when I shoot off a quick text to Eric to let him know I’ll be MIA for the next few hours, but to message me if he needs anything—and I think about how much easier this case would probably be to solve if we had Jake.

Maybe it would have been harder to find Hannah without me, but I know damn well they would’ve never found her without Jake.

Dan picks me up from the airport. I haven’t told the others yet. Something about it felt off—like I shouldn’t message them and say hey, I know we haven’t spoken in a while, but I’m booking a flight to look into why my maybe-slash-not-really boyfriend left his belongings in a forest we really wish we could forget about, and by the way, can I crash at your place?

It’s quiet on the car ride back into town. I’m looking through my messages from Eric and the group from Redlog Pines and thinking about how I’m Duskwood with this group and I want so badly to laugh because it’s ironic, but Dan wouldn’t understand. He might just call me crazy. Better yet, he would ask how I manage to get myself into these situations, and really, I don’t have an answer for him.

“How have you been?” I ask, just to break the tension, as Charlie, in my messages, tries to persuade his friends to head back into that creepy cave in the middle of the forest. He’s going to get someone killed, I think.

Dan looks over at me. “Are you still with Hackerman?”

My chest squeezes. “His name is Jake, Dan. And we were never really together.”

“Hm.” He nods like he doesn’t quite believe me. “You already know mostly everything that’s been happening here. Thomas and Hannah called it quits. They say it was some mutual decision, but it’s hard to find them in the same room together. Jessy hasn’t been out with us since. I think we remind her too much of Richy. The group’s all changed.”

“And you?” I ask.

He gives me a cheshire-like grin that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’m always the same.”

We make it to Duskwood just as the sun’s going down. Much too late for me to try and trek through the forest and retrace the steps Jake might have taken that night. Not that I think it would help give me any clues as to where he might have gone, but mostly because I wonder if it will make me feel closer to him. We’ve never been in the same place before, and even if he’s not there now—he once was.

“Can you drop me at the police station?”

Dan blinks. “The police station.”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“We answered their questions for weeks, [MC]. I don’t think anything you have to tell them at this point is going to help. The investigation’s closed. Everybody knows Richy did it. He died with the fire in the mine. Everybody’s trying to move on from that.” He works his jaw. “Did you come here to open old wounds after all this time?”

I try not to show the hurt look on my face. “This isn’t about Richy. Look, Alan called me. He asked if I could look at some things. I figured it was better for me to do it in person. That’s it. Nothing to do with Richy. Nothing to do with Jessy. Nothing to do with you.”

He sighs, and I’m not entirely sure he’s going to abide by my wishes until we pull in front of a tiny building—tinier than most—that says Duskwood Police on the sign. Duskwood must not have that much crime. Well, not until this, I suppose.

“Thank you.” I tell him as I reach over to undo my seatbelt and climb out of the car. “This is a nice ride, by the way.”

He raises a hand in some mock-salute. “Need me to pick you up?”

“Nah.” I shake my head. “Think I’ll explore the town for a little bit.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs and then he’s off.

I square my shoulders and take a deep breath before opening the door to the police station. It wasn’t like Alan asked me to come down here. He hadn’t. Even during the investigation into Richy’s death and Hannah’s kidnapping, when he questioned us, he never asked me to come to Duskwood. We’d done way too many video calls and phone calls and at one point, I had asked if he thought it would be easier for me to come to Duskwood, to which he responded back, are you ready for that?

No, I hadn’t been. I’m not even so sure I was now. But knowing that Jake was alive, that here was the last place was, I had to try.

“Can I help you?” The woman at the front desk asks.

I clear my throat. “I was wondering if I could speak to Alan Bloomgate. I’m one of—I was involved in the Hannah Donfort case. My name is [MC].”

Her eyes widen. “Give me a moment.” She stands and heads to some back office—which looks to me more like a closet—and then returns with a clipped smile. “He’ll be right out.”

Apparently, she isn’t lying, because not two minutes later, Alan is stepping out from the same door and staring me down. I hold his gaze and hope it says that I’m not here to argue. I will tell him my truth, but only my truth, not Hannah’s, not Jake’s, not anybody else’s.

“I was wondering when I would see you.” He says.

I shrug one shoulder. “Isn’t a few months later better than never?”

“Let’s go into my office.” He says, and leads me around the desk and back into the closet space he had come out of. He sits behind the desk and motions for me to take a seat opposite him. “I’m just going to guess you’re not here to talk about Miss Donfort.”

“I want to see them.” I tell him. “His things. I want to see them for myself. And whatever you want from me in return, I’ll give to you.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game here, [MC].”

“He isn’t a game to me.” I snap back and then sit back and try to relax. “I appreciate that you called me. It’s—I helped you find Hannah. I would do it again. Even with knowing the things that we do now, I would do it all again. That’s how much that group means to me. That’s how much he means to me. I’m not asking you to break any rules or to lie for him or to—to let him hide in your basement for the next five years. I’m just asking you to show me what you found.”

He stares me down for a moment. Then, he sighs, says “wait here for a minute” and disappears to another room. When he comes back, it’s with an evidence bag in his hand filled with the objects I saw on his bodycam footage. My breath hitches in my throat.

“I can’t let you touch them.” He says as he lays them in front of me.

I stare into the eyes of the mask. “Did you tell anybody that he’s alive?”

“I don’t know that he’s alive,” is all the answer he gives, which is an answer to my question. I slide my gaze down to the black hoodie, to the dirtied sleeves and muddy hood, and think about the fact that Jake wore this. I’m so close to him.

And yet I’ve never been further away from him.

“Thank you.” I tell him. “For—for this. And for listening to me about Hannah. If you hadn’t, I—I don’t know what would have happened. How much longer he would have gone on for. If he would have ever stopped.”

Alan’s silent for a minute. Then, he clears his throat. “You know, it was strange to me. Both Hannah and yourself swore to me that neither of you knew the other.”

“I don’t.” I swear.

It was one of the (albeit many) things that didn’t make sense to me. How Hannah got a hold of my number. How she sent it to Thomas. She’d told Alan she hadn’t really remembered texting him my number at all.

“I believe you.” He reassures. “I just think it’s strange. One mistake, if you can call it that, and you throw yourself into a missing persons case to help a stranger.”

“They’re not strangers.” Even though Hannah is kind of still a stranger.

“But they were.” Alan reasons. “You had no reason to say yes to helping Thomas. I doubt anybody would have held it against you if you turned the other way. But you decided to follow this until the end. To make sure they found Hannah. And you care about them. Maybe that’s why I find that I’m more lenient with you than maybe I should be. Why you’re sitting across from me right now calling the shots. Why I’m not asking you about the hacker.”

“I wouldn’t tell you if you did.” I look him in the eye so he knows I’m telling the truth.

He returns my gaze. “Maybe that’s the other reason.”

“Hm.” I acknowledge before I turn my gaze away—from him, from the objects that I know belong to Jake and it takes everything in me not to snatch them up and run. “Well. Thank you for allowing me to steal some of your time. For letting me—” I cut myself off before I say something that makes me break down in a fit of tears in front of him. “—just thank you.”

Leaving the station is easier than coming in. I’m still not any closer to knowing where Jake is than I was when I arrived here, but there’s a comfort in knowing he walked these streets. I wonder what he would think if he knew I was here. He hadn’t wanted me to come to Duskwood when everything was happening…but now that it was over, would he be happy that I was here? That I had come to Duskwood to piece together where he might have gone? Would he track my location and come to find me and…or was I grasping at straws?

It felt like I had just gotten him back. Not really, not entirely…but knowing that he was alive, that he was out there somewhere, maybe thinking of me and looking for ways to come back, to live the life we talked about when he asked me if I was sure…that was worth it. The thought that we could maybe someday have that—even if it was a twenty percent chance.

I check my phone again to see a new message from Ash. She’s asking me if I’ve heard from Charlie in the last few hours. Apparently, he’s AWOL, and I want to help, really, but…it doesn’t really feel like that’s where I am at the moment. Not just physically—obviously—but mentally. We got lucky with Hannah. And that was really only because we had Jake. Adam didn’t have a Jake. Or…maybe he did and I just hadn’t met him yet. But I already had a Jake and I didn’t want another one.

Maybe—if I found him, I could convince him to help. That was a big maybe. Not because I thought Jake would say no. He would say yes to anything I asked of him. The maybe was whether or not I could find him. More likely, the maybe was whether or not he would find me.

Three months ago, I would have been able to come to Duskwood and have no shortage of things I wanted to do and people I wanted to see. Now, as I stand outside Duskwood’s police station, I feel nothing but loneliness. Nobody knows I’m here. I could pass Thomas on the street and he wouldn’t even know it. I could run into Jessy at the library and she would walk by me without even a second thought. Why would they? I hadn’t told them I was here.

So, with nothing left to do, I walked. Toward the town center. Toward the library that Jessy showed me on our walk through Duskwood. Toward the Rainbow Café where I knew that Cleo and Hannah had spent a lot of their time. Toward the Black Swan. Toward—

Ah, what the hell.

I had nothing better to do and The Aurora seemed like a great place to drown my sorrows. To think about my next steps. To figure out—now that I was in Duskwood—what I planned to do. The thing about Jake being so secretive (and on the run) was that I couldn’t retrace his steps. I wasn’t able to ask if anyone had seen him. One, because he would make sure nobody had. And two, because three months was a long time to forget somebody’s face if you didn’t know who you were looking for.

I pull open the door to the bar and step inside. Immediately, I’m hit with the stench of whiskey and a handful of chatter. Duskwood’s a small town. And The Aurora definitely proves it. The bartenders move melodically around each other, serving patrons on the other side of the bar. If you walk down further, there’s a handful of tables.

And dead in the center is a table with my friends. Or, some of them. Dan and Cleo and Lilly. Could I still call them my friends? Ex-friends, maybe? Acquaintances? I didn’t know what they were. Or how to address them. It wasn’t like we had gotten into a fight. We didn’t stop talking for any reason other than that we did. We stopped talking.

I make a beeline for the bar to avoid a confrontation and plant myself on one of the stools. One of the bartenders—a girl cute with bleach blonde hair and brown Bambi eyes—asks what I want and I channel my inner Dan to order a whiskey—neat.

Looking over my shoulder, I focus on the table of them. On Lilly, who’s smiling at something Cleo said. On Dan, who’s the only one of them who actually knows I’m here. But even he’s focused on the conversation they’re having. It’s strange—to see Dan a part of something I’m not sure he would have been before. It’s nice.

“[MC]?”

I turn my head away from the table of my friends and focus my attention across the bar on someone I should’ve expected to see. “Phil.”

“I thought I recognized your voice from when we talked.” He smiles. “I wasn’t sure, but I saw you staring longingly at them—” He nods towards Dan and Cleo and Lilly. “—and I knew. What brings you around here? I expected you to show up maybe a few months ago, but by now, I thought you’d moved on without us.”

I was tired of the words move on. Like I’d had a choice. Like the people from this town might open their arms and welcome me back into their lives. So I’d been part of the group who’d saved Hannah Donfort. So had a lot of people. It didn’t make me special and everyone here knew it.

I offer him a smile in return. “I’m looking for somebody.”

“Anybody I know?” He asks.

I shake my head. “Nah. At least nobody you would recognize.” I pause. “How’s Jessy?”

“She’s—Jessy.” He answers, like that is an answer. “I don’t know if she’ll ever really be okay with the way things happened with Richy. I wouldn’t expect her to. Obviously. But I don’t know. I think I just thought she would have gone back to her normal life by now. And then I remember that most of her life revolved around him. He was her best friend. She worked for him. And I’m trying to be patient about that. But—” He shakes his head. “Maybe you should talk to her.”

“She doesn’t know I’m in town.”

“Okay.” He hums. “So, you’re not in town for my sister. And you’re not in town for your group of friends because they’re over there and you look like you’d rather be anywhere else. There’s always Hannah, but I don’t think you knew her that well. Or at all. Would I be right to assume this is about a certain hacker who helped to find Hannah?”

“He didn’t help find Hannah.” I defend. “He was the entire reason we found Hannah. I would have never been able to do it on my own. Even with the others’ help. He’s the only reason we found out about—” I pause before I say something I maybe shouldn’t. “It doesn’t matter. He’s the only reason we found her. Everything I did was just dumb luck.”

“That wasn’t what the news said.” A voice cuts in and I turn my attention from Phil to focus on the stranger that slides into the seat beside me. Not too close—a couple inches away. I don’t recognize him. I don’t know him. But I don’t know every person in Duskwood. Maybe a total of like nine or ten. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But I heard you had a lot to do with finding Hannah Donfort. The news said you were some kind of hero.”

I offer him a tight smile. “That’s nice of them. But…if they knew my—friend—knew what he did to find her, I don’t think I would be as much of a hero as everybody says.”

“That’s noble.” He says, eyes meeting mine, and it strikes me at once how handsome he is. He has dark hair. Bright green eyes. Focus, [MC]. I scold. You have a…a someone.

My phone buzzes.

ERIC SENT A PHOTO.

ERIC: What do you make of this?

I sigh and click on the photo. It’s of—some object. Much like the one that was addressed to me on the envelope in Adam’s glove compartment. The image is a bit different—but I don’t know enough about what it means to have an answer as to why.

ME: Was this one addressed to me?

ERIC: Nope. Ash.

“Are you okay?” Phil asks.

I clear my throat. “I’m a popular person—apparently.” A thought strikes. “Have you ever heard of a place called Redlog Pines?”

Phil frowns. “No.”

I turn to look at the stranger. “You?”

“Redlog Pines is a small town about two hundred miles north of Duskwood.” He answers. “Known for their wooded forests, much like Duskwood.”

“Why are you looking into a place with forests as creepy as ours?” Phil asks, incredulously. “Didn’t you get enough of that with Hannah’s case?”

“Yeah.” I sigh. “You would think.”

“Hey, [MC]!”

I wince at the sound of Dan’s voice. Shooting Phil a look that screams please help me to which he shakes his head amusedly, I turn and plaster on a fake smile as I take in the shocked looks on Cleo and Lilly’s faces. I should have known better than to come to The Aurora and talk to Phil when the three of them were having a conversation across the room. I should have known they would sooner or later see me. I just hoped it was later.

“Hey.” I hop off my stool and make my way across the bar to them. “It’s, uh, fancy seeing the three of you here.”

“What are you doing here?” Cleo asks.

“I haven’t really figured that out.” My eyes meet Lilly’s. “It sounds crazy to say it out loud. But I was hoping that—I’m not sure if Lilly told you—”

“That Jake’s alive.” Cleo nods. “None of us ever really thought he wasn’t.”

I don’t think she means it as a dig—but it still feels like one. Like she’s saying you gave up on him you gave up on him you gave up on him even though she’s not and she didn’t really know him and the only person I can talk to at this table who even might understand is Lilly and even—Jake didn’t confide in her the way he did me.

“Right.” I acknowledge. “So I thought that maybe if I came here, I could trace his steps from when he was here and—I haven’t really thought that far ahead. It’s not like I thought he left me any clues in the forest or anything like that. I don’t think he expected me to be here. He hadn’t wanted me to be the last time we talked. But that was before everything happened.”

Lilly’s eyes track behind me. “Does Jake still have Nymos on your phone?”

“Uh.” I furrow my brows. “I think so. I hadn’t heard from him in a while, but I went back and read through our messages after I talked to Alan and…my phone glitched, like it used to when Jake had hacked it. And then this message appeared on my screen.”

“And by chance, can Nymos track your location?”

“What—” I shake my head. “Maybe. I don’t think I ever really asked him. It didn’t seem necessary at the time.”

“Uh huh.” She focuses on me once more. “Let’s say, for one minute, that Jake has access to Nymos who has access to your location.”

Cleo must catch onto something I’m not sure of. “Jake didn’t want you here.”

“Uh, thank you?”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” She waves me off. “He didn’t want you in Duskwood. He had been adamant about that when we were talking about the mine. That’s why he went. If you showed up in Duskwood—”

“Nymos would have alerted him.” Dan finishes.

“Okay…” I’m not entirely sure I’m on the same page as them. “So—you think that Jake found out when I came to Duskwood.”

“Correct.” Lilly beams like she just solved life’s greatest mystery.

“And you think he would—come find me?”

She smiles sympathetically at me—like I’m the world’s biggest idiot for not realizing what she has been trying to say sooner. “I think he already has.”

“You think Jake’s in Duskwood.” I deadpan.

“[MC].” Cleo grabs my shoulders and turns me around. “We think he’s in this bar.”

Stranger, as I had nicknamed him—AKA the guy sitting beside me at the bar, with Phil and Redlog Pines (which he probably only knew about because of me) and the whole Hannah being kidnapped and not taking any of the credit thing—was looking back at me. So was Phil. Like they thought I was the crazy one. Like it would’ve been so hard for him to look and me and say it’s me or anything that might have clued me into the fact that—

“Jake?” I whisper, because I’ve lost quite a bit of sleep over the past couple of months and I’m not one hundred percent sure what—or who—I’m seeing is real. “Are you here?”

He tilts his head and smiles at me. Actually smiles. A bit shyly, like it’s something he’s not used to doing, but maybe like it’s something he could get used to. And I think about how terrible I probably look right now because I’m not wearing makeup and my hair is tousled from constantly pulling at it and my clothes are wrinkled from the plane and the police station and I look like a mess. But our relationship has never been about looks. Clearly. I didn’t even know the person I’d been talking to until Lilly and Cleo and even Dan pointed out the obvious.

“If I—” I close my eyes and open them again. Nope. Still there. “I need you to still be there by the time I reach you because it’s been a—” I sniffle. “—it’s been a rough few months and I don’t think I could handle you disappearing again.”

He stands from the stool he was sitting on and shuffles his feet. Like he’s not quite sure where he’s supposed to stand. If he thinks about moving, I’ll tackle him onto the floor of The Aurora and then apologize to Phil later. It feels like everything I wanted is right here in front of me. And I’m scared to death that it’s not real.

“What’s one thing you would take with you if you were stranded on an island?”

His smile stretches. “My computer.”

And that—that’s what breaks me. I think I might start blubbering like an idiot but I don’t remember the time it takes for me to cross the measly twenty feet between us. All I remember is grabbing his black hoodie—because of course—and dragging him to me. I don’t kiss him, despite how much I want to, because I don’t want our first kiss to be tainted with my snot and tears. Instead, I bury my face in his collarbone and wrap my arms around his neck and hold on for dear life.

Because I can. Because he isn’t dead.

“Y—You’re here.” I pull back and cup his face with my hands. “How are you here?”

“You came to Duskwood.” He responds, and then—hesitantly—he presses his lips to my forehead in a kiss. “Alan called you.”

“He found your things in the forest.” I whisper back. “He said they’d been there a while. The police hadn’t searched the forest because they assume you died in the mine.”

“They aren’t looking for me here.” He confirms. “I didn’t expect it to take so long for them to find my belongings, but I anticipated that you would find out. At the time, it wasn’t safe for me to reach out and contact you. They kept on my trail for a while before they assumed I died in the mine with Richy.”

“Why didn’t you contact me then?” I ask. “Is it because of what I last messaged you? I didn’t mean it—I swear, I thought you were dead. If I had known you were alive, I would have waited, however long it took. I wasn’t trying to give up on you.”

“Hey.” He places both hands on either side of my face. “I know. I know that, [MC]. That was never why I didn’t reach out to you. I know you said you wanted this life with me. But I didn’t want that for you. But I was selfish. I couldn’t let you go. So I was trying to find a way to make both of those things true. But I was always coming back to you.”

“And did you?”

“Come back to you?” He asks.

I sniffle. “Find a way to make both of those things true.”

“Not entirely.” He admits. “Nymos alerted me you had boarded a plane headed in the direction of Duskwood and I—” He shook his head. “I knew I would find you here.”

“You could have found me sooner.”

He lets go of my face and he feels like he takes my skin with him. “It wasn’t that easy.”

“It could have been.” I demand.

I’m angry again. Now that I know he’s alive and okay and that he could have found me, I’m angry that he didn’t. I told him I would choose that life with him. Over and over and over. He didn’t need to make the decision for me. He didn’t need to try and protect me. And yes, maybe the fact that he did makes my heart flutter a tiny little bit, but that’s besides the point.

“I told you before you left me.” I tell him and I’m aware it sounds like we’ve been in a relationship for five years and I’m aware that everybody in here is watching and listening in on our conversation and they probably all know we’re who we are, two people involved in helping to find the kidnapped Hannah Donfort, and maybe that’s all we’ll ever be in this town. But I would rather be the girl who found Hannah Donfort in Duskwood with him than be me anywhere else. “You told me you would let me go with you.”

“That was before I told you I loved you.”

My heart skips a beat. It screams I love you I love you I love you back, but I say— “What does that have to do with anything?”

He looks somewhat amused. Like he knows I would never hold it against him. It’s clear to both of us that I wouldn’t because even though I’m glaring up at him with my furrowed eyebrows and my lips pouted, I’m still pressed tightly against him. His hands—even though they’ve moved from my face—are now resting on my hips. Pulling my tighter to him. There’s no space in between us. If it was up to me, I’m pretty sure there never would be again.

“[MC].” He says, and oh god I wish he would say my name every day for the rest of his life. “Have I—in the short time we have known each other—ever struck you as the type of person who says I love you? But with you…” His words are a whisper against my lips. “It’s easy to fall back into old emotions with you.”

“I want to be angry with you.” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.” I agree. “But I might be if you don’t kiss me.”

He brought one finger underneath my chin and tilted it up until our lips were separated by a fraction of an inch. My eyelids fluttered. I didn’t care that everyone in here was about to see just how much Jake meant to be. I didn’t care because I had waited too long for this. And then—just as I’m leaning toward him to press our lips together, he whispers— “[MC]?”

“Hm.” I acknowledge.

“Who’s Eric?”

My eyelids crack open and I shove at his chest. “That’s what you’re worried about right now? Here I am, in front of you, covered in snot and tears and who-knows-what-else because you’re here right now, and you’re worried about some guy I don’t even know?”

“Who’s Eric?” He repeats.

“Ugh.” I run my hands through my hair and take a step back. “I don’t know. He’s the other side of Thomas or whatever you want to call him. If we lived in a different town.” I glare back at him and try not to admit that I think his jealous side is a little cute. “He messaged me. Thought I picked up his friend from some parking lot and I didn’t, but his friend sent him my number, and it was Hannah all over again. I’m trying to help them.”

“This Adam has been sending you a lot of videos.”

“You know I hate when you hack my phone.” I complain, even though I really don’t. Even though I had prayed for him to help me with this case. “I really don’t know Adam. Like—even less than I know Eric.

“But you know Eric.”

“For like a week.” I reassure. “He added me to this group chat with him and like three other friends of his. They’re desperate to find Adam who has apparently dropped off the face of the earth and I don’t know what to do. I had you with Hannah’s case. And you knew her. And they—” I look over my shoulder at Cleo and Dan and Lilly, who are pretending like they’re not listening in even though I know and Jake knows they are. “—they knew her. And obviously Adam’s friends must know him but I don’t and you don’t and there is no Jake in Redlog Pines.”

“I don’t trust him.” He shakes his head. “Any of them.”

I laugh. “Jake, you didn’t trust half the people in this bar when we first started talking.” I look over at Phil and then Dan. “It doesn’t mean they committed a crime. If I had backed off when you asked me to help you find Hannah, we may never have.”

“I thought that was all thanks to me.” He sounds smug, like that little smiley face he loved to annoy me with (AKA make me fall in love with him). “Did he flirt with you?”

“No.” I deadpan. “I think he was focused on his missing friend.”

“I was focused on my missing sister.” He shoots back.

I close my mouth. Alright. He has a point. But I wasn’t flirting with Eric. He was focused on finding Adam and I was focused on mourning—and then finding—Jake. Maybe it felt like Eric and I were two sides of the same coin. Maybe that’s why I agreed to help him. Because I didn’t want to happen to him what I thought had happened to Jake—to me.

“You’re being ridiculous.” I say instead. “How do you think I could ever entertain the idea of being with somebody else when for the past three months—more than that if you count the time we have actually had together—I’ve been focused on you? On discussing Hannah with you and then talking to you about anything and everything and then worrying about you and then hating you a little for convincing me you should me the one to go into the mine and then mourning you when it was hard to even think about you and then finding you?”

His eyes are wide. I think I’ve rendered him speechless. Which—serves him right. I know he’s not somebody who serves their feelings up on a silver platter. I know that. Obviously, I knew that from the first time I spoke to him. Back when he was nothing more than ??? and I was almost convinced that Dan was right and he was the Man Without A Face—a thought that I now hate with everything in me. But I need him to trust me. Jealousy streak and FBI and the missing persons cases aside, he needs to trust me.

“Trust me.” I cup the sides of his face again. “He’s nothing like you.”

He swallows. “Some people might consider that to be a perk.”

“I don’t.” I say.

And then I’m kissing him and it feels like coming home.

#duskwood #duskwood everbyte #duskwood game #duskwood jake #duskwood jake x mc #moonvale everbyte #moonvale #duskwood fanfic #duskwood mc #everbyte game #everbyte studios

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guiltyasdave · 8 months ago

Text

heaven can't help me now

chapter 3 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You're afraid Dave might not like you as much as you like him. ...Meanwhile, Dave is afraid of the same thing. (They're idiots okay)

word count: 6.5k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks), able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, phone sex, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, biting, cream pie, use of panties as a gag, orgasm denial, pet names, let me know if anything is missing!

a/n: co-written with my angel @joelscurls, throwing around these ideas with you is so fun, i love you <3

taylor swift said “what if he’s written mine on my upper thigh” and i took that personally

thank you @catchallfangirl for beta reading! <3 (and listening to me freak out about this on a daily basis)

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @guiltyasdavenotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

Dave regrets the message as soon as the small text underneath it switches from delivered to read.

He knows that he’s been cruel to you, he could see the confusion and hurt written all over your face when he drove you home. But he has to be the responsible one, the adult in this situation. The one who’s able to hold back. Nothing should have happened between you and him, not once, let alone twice. He shouldn’t indulge in this, shouldn’t give you hope.

He has always looked down on men who were with women much younger than them. Midlife crisis. Not able to have a relationship with someone on the same maturity level.

That’s not who he is. He understands that the reason why you’re attracted to him lies at least partially in your relationship with your father, and he won’t take advantage of that. It’s not who he is and it’s not what you deserve.

You’re gonna go back to college in a few weeks and he can pretend that none of this ever happened. You’re gonna meet a nice boy your age, become a lawyer, get married and live your life the way you’re supposed to. Eventually, the memory of you writhing underneath him, your voice so sweet and needy in your desperation, surely won’t be as vivid as it is right now.

But then he found your panties between the cushions of his couch, still damp with your arousal, still smelling of you. His mind started wandering, conjuring images that he should be ashamed of. The things he could do to you, the things he could show you.

It’s like he’s lost in a haze, stroking his throbbing cock to fantasies of you, all the depraved shit that some respectful fellow student would never do, but that he knows you crave. He hears your whimpers so clearly in his head, pictures your face, so pretty begging him for things only he knows how to give you, until he releases himself all over the lacy bit of fabric that’s clutched between his fingers.

But now you’re not answering, and shame is swirling in his stomach, surely now he’s overstepped, why did he even think–

His racing thoughts are interrupted by the quiet ping of his phone and a message from you. Just a photo, no text.

His eyes widen, taking in the image. He can’t see your face, only the shape of your tits, already so familiar to him, covered in dark, lacy fabric. Exactly the same color, exactly the same pattern as the fabric that he soiled and photographed to send to you.

You put on the matching bra for him, he realizes. Which is probably why it took you longer than usual to answer, you had to get into the lingerie and put yourself all prettily on display for him. He drinks in the shape of you, the skin that he knows would feel so soft underneath his touch, the swell of your breasts, the nipples hidden behind lace, how they would harden for him, how you would squirm if he–

Desire starts coursing through him again, and he feels like a teenager, reduced to this by just a photo. His thumb finds your name on the display almost instinctively.

“Fuck, baby.”

The rasp of his voice hits your ear as soon as you accept the call. Your heart had been hammering away inside your chest since you hit send on the photo.

“You like it?”

You hate how needy you sound, how desperate for his approval. David exhales sharply and you wish you were with him again.

“Trust me, I like it very much.”

Your cheeks heat at his tone. He blows all other thoughts out of your head. You forget how rejected you felt, how you told yourself you wouldn’t let it happen again. It doesn’t matter, not when he talks to you like this. You whisper a thank you and he chuckles.

“Are you in bed, sweetheart?”

“Yeah.” You bite your lip, considering the words resting on the top of your tongue. Deciding to take the leap. “Wish you were here too.”

You don’t need to see his face to know how he purses his lips, how he slowly curls them into a smirk.

“Mhm? What would you like me to do if I was?”

Your face burns hotter.

“I– Touch me, use your fingers to–”

He groans, a rich, deep sound in your ear. You’re still sore, but your fingertips ghost down your body anyway, chasing the need that’s building up between your legs again. You gasp when they find your clit, already swollen and covered in your slick.

“Are you touching yourself right now?”

“Yes, please David, I need–”

“Don’t worry, baby. I got you.”

He keeps talking to you, low murmurs in your ear, directing your fingers over your body. He doesn’t let up until you’ve come twice, until he’s reduced you to a whimpering mess without even being there.

He doesn’t apologize for earlier, not directly at least. You didn’t expect him to. In a twisted way, that you’re not sure anyone but the two of you would understand, this was his apology.

You’re not sure what changed his mind, but he doesn’t go back to his distant self afterwards. Maybe he’s come to the same realization as you. That neither of you is going to be able to stay away.

He’s on your mind constantly, you catch yourself checking your phone for new messages way too often and smiling down at the screen whenever he’s texting you. You know that you shouldn’t act like this, shouldn’t give him that much power in your mind. But it feels so good, to be seen, to be wanted like that.

You’re both busy; he’s working on an important case and you’re in desperate need to catch up on job applications and college work, which you’ve neglected over the past few days, as your father is quick to remind you.

But you keep exchanging messages, keep sharing hushed whispers at night. It never lets up, the thrill of his voice guiding your fingers and hearing the sounds that he makes when he’s putting his hands on himself. Knowing that it’s you, the thought of you that elicits them.

You’re having dinner with your father, who is home earlier than most days, the brightly lit dining room reflecting off the massive windows, when the bubble bursts.

“You remember Dave, right? From the country club?”

You freeze, your fork hovering in the air over your plate. He knows, your mind screams. No, there’s no way he would know.

You fight hard to appear nonchalant, to not let your face betray you. You nod, humming questioningly in a way that you hope sounds innocent enough.

“I told you how he got divorced recently, didn’t I? It’s been hard on him, poor fella…”

Your dad sighs and shakes his head. You furrow your brow, at a complete loss where this conversation might be going.

“Well, guess who got him a date?! Cheryl from the office is single and I realized, she’s perfect for him! An amazing match. He never goes out, always been a bit of a loner, I guess… But I set them up and they went out last night! Great, huh?”

Your mind is running a mile a minute. You force a weak smile, lifting your head to meet your father’s proud grin.

“Y-yeah, dad. Great,” you echo. You feel hollow.

He leans back in his chair, looking extremely pleased with himself.

“Looks like I’m gonna have to play matchmaker for you too, eventually, with the way things are going, hm?”

Under different conditions, the snide remark about your dating life and how he’s never been even remotely happy with any guy you had dared to bring home, would sting a lot more. Right now though, you’re reeling from the fact that David went out with another woman last night.

“Sure,” you whisper. “May I please be excused?”

You don’t wait for an answer, already pushing back from the table and rushing up the stairs. Back in your room, you grab your phone, scrolling through your past messages. You didn’t hear from him last night, which you hadn’t found weird at the time, but it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth now.

Maybe he finally realized that someone his age would be much better suited for him. A real woman, not some little girl who still goes to school, calls him drunk in the middle of the night and can’t stand up against her father. Of course that’s not what he wants.

You pace in your room, thoughts running through your head. Do you confront him? You never talked about it, never discussed exclusivity, but still… You don’t want anyone else and you had thought that he wouldn’t either.

After tossing and turning in your bed for hours, you decide not to ask David about it, to not contact him at all. Maybe that’s for the best. Save him the trouble of letting you down. It’s like a weight pulling under, the uncertainty and fear of this being it tying itself into a tight knot in your stomach. But you’ve been desperate enough for him already, you try to reason, you need to stop embarrassing yourself by running after him.

He texts you the next day, sounding just the same way he always does. You can’t bring yourself to not reply to him at all, but it’s clipped, one-sentence answers, which he picks up on soon enough. His name lights up your phone as you’re hunched over your desk in your bedroom, pondering over an essay that you’re supposed to write over the break.

“Hello?”

“Sweetheart.” The deep smoothness of his voice travels from the speaker right under your skin, holding you under his spell the way he always does. “Is something wrong?”

You bite your lip, muttering a no in reply. You sound like a petulant teenager, everything that you don’t want him to see you as.

“Now why do I not believe that?”

You hear his smile in the way he sounds. You want to see him so badly, want to be on the receiving end of that smile. You wonder if Cheryl from the office got to see it last night too. If he’s given her all the parts of him that he’s given you.

“Dunno.” There’s a sting in your voice, not unlike the sting that you feel piercing through your heart at the thought of him with someone else.

Dave frowns at the way you sound. You’re never this short with him, never seemed so sad since that night you called him drunk and he turned you down. And even then, it was different, not dismissive the way you are now.

His anxious mind immediately provides him with a variety of explanations. Maybe you’ve finally come to your senses and realized that you don’t want him. That you don’t want a man twice your age, that him wanting you actually makes him a fucking creep, that he isn’t as great as you’ve built him up to be in your head. Maybe you’ve realized that what you’re doing is wrong. He wouldn’t blame you for it. One of you should be reasonable and end things for good. He has been telling himself that.

But you sound so upset that worry settles in his gut. He feels that pull towards you again, only that it’s not explicitly sexual this time. He just really needs to see you, to touch you, to make sure that you’re okay.

The invitation for you to come over leaves his lips without thinking about it, just the overwhelming need to have you close. You pause, so long that he gets even more uneasy, but eventually you agree.

Dave knows that something is wrong as soon as he opens the door. You look smaller, slightly curling in on yourself. You don’t meet his gaze, eyes downturned and without the spark in them that he sees in his mind when he thinks about you. He pulls you into a hug, one that you barely return.

His bedroom door is once again firmly closed, and he’s directing you towards his couch again. Still the last invisible line, the one that he tells himself will keep him from letting you in all the way. Your eyes linger there for a moment, he can almost see the wheels turning in your head. You deflate even more.

He hates to see you like this. Fights the urge to wrap you in his arms, satisfy his hunger for your lips and fuck you until every trace of that sadness written over your face is erased.

The door that you presume leads to his bedroom is closed, just like the last time you were here. You wonder if he opened it for Cheryl, if she got to see a part of him that you didn’t. Then again, he probably treated her like a lady. Wined and dined her properly, maybe a chaste kiss to say good night. Because she’s someone who’s right for him, someone worth putting the effort in. Not the quick fuck that you had been.

He probably invited you over to tell you in person that he really can’t see you anymore. That he means it this time. You suppose that in his mind, that’s the decent thing to do. You think that you would have rather had him text you about it. That way you wouldn’t have to pretend, wouldn’t have to tell him to his face that it’s fine, that you understand, don’t worry.

Still, he called and you came running. Like a fucking idiot.

You sit down on the edge of his couch, decidedly keeping the images of the last time you were here buried in your memories. “Do you want something to drink?” You shake your head no and he sits down beside you. You’re acutely aware of his presence, of the simmering need that you feel for him, even now. Please just get it over with.

“You didn’t have to do all this, you know.” You’re not looking at him, keeping your eyes on your hands, your fingers gripping each other tightly, tense like the rest of your body.

“Do all what?”

You bite your lip, attempting to swallow down the anger at the fact that he’s gonna make you the one to say it, but it’s no use. Your eyes fly up to meet his.

“Make me come here, to talk to me in person, or whatever it is you think you’re doing. You– you could’ve just texted me.”

He furrows his brow, a hint of defensiveness in his warm brown eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

You scoff. “My dad told me. About your date.” You’re never like this, your voice biting and your eyes glaring. You’re never like this and you have no right to be like this now, getting worked up over the end of something that never even was, not really. “I’m sure she’s nice. A great match, he said, so you’re gonna tell me to fuck off. It’s okay, I understand.”

Your voice breaks on the last word. A lump is building in your throat and your eyes burn with unshed tears. This can’t be happening. It’s bad enough that you feel this much about it, but it’s indefinitely worse to have him know it.

David’s expression softens. “Oh, sweetheart. That’s not–” He slips one hand in between yours, gently pries your fingers away from each other. “You thought that’s why I asked you to come over here?”

You shrug, once again unable to meet his gaze.

“The date was shit. I wouldn’t even have gone if Jim hadn’t kept bugging me about it.”

Inhaling deeply, you slowly trail your eyes up to his face again.

“Really?”

He nods, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest. His lips press against your forehead.

“Promise.” He sighs. “You sounded so upset, that’s why I asked you to come–”

You sniffle, suddenly feeling stupid about the whole scene you made. He holds you a little longer, and you revel in his scent that’s engulfing you, in the warmth and solidness of his body. When he finally pulls away, his hand finds your chin and lifts it until you’re looking straight at him. A hint of amusement is glinting in his eyes.

“Were you jealous, baby?”

You’re well aware that he can see right through you, but shake your head anyway. He allows himself a grin.

“What then? Worried that you’ll find no one else to fuck you like I do?”

Heat is burning in your cheeks, but you can’t help but laugh. He’s not wrong, at least partially.

Your lips curling up and the soft laugh tumbling out of you soothes him, eases the sting in his chest. The severity of your reaction to the idea of him dumping you for another woman took him off guard. He never wants to see that kind of hurt written over your face ever again.

He should have told you, he realizes that now. He knew nothing would come out of meeting with that woman that Jim had been boasting about all week, but what was he supposed to say? No need pal, I already got everything I need fucking your daughter?

He doesn’t know when you began feeling like everything he needed. He knows that you shouldn’t. He knows that he shouldn’t check his phone as often as he does, shouldn’t spend his days fantasizing about you, shouldn’t imagine you by his side almost constantly.

But how can he not, when you’re looking at him like this, your eyes so wide, so filled with trust. Always ready, always desperate to give him everything of you. Like a dream come true that he didn’t know he had.

“Maybe,” you admit, teasingly but still so, so soft. Everything about you is so fucking soft. His to touch, his to defile. Because, inexplicably, you fucking let him.

He needs to reassure you that he’s worthy of that trust. He leans in closer, feels your breath ghosting over his face as his nose nudges against yours. He pauses, searches your expression for a moment. You dip your chin down in a tiny nod and he’s onto you, chases your mouth with his. He pours all the emotion that he doesn’t understand, can’t begin to name, into the kiss. How much he misses you, how often you are on his mind. How he doesn’t want to hurt you, wants to do right by you, but has no clue how.

Your lips move against his with more fervor, a mess of tongues and teeth clashing against one another. Your whimpers drip into his mouth, leaving him drunk off you. Heat spreads through him, like a fire that’s going to consume you both. He thinks that he wants it to.

He trails kisses down your throat, sucks at the skin, relishes in the shivers that it sends through your body. You grasp at his shirt, trembling fingers fumbling with the buttons, but he stops you. Nipping at your collarbone, he looks up at you, takes in your wide blown pupils, the hunger in your eyes.

Maybe this is all he can give you, but he’s going to do that right. He’s going to give you what he can, as long as you let him.

He hooks his fingers under the neckline of your dress, pulls it down a little, inhales the sweet scent of your perfume. Every new inch of your skin that he reveals fills him with the need to worship it.

“Will you let me make it up to you, sweetheart?” He mouths at your skin again, his eyes still trained on your face. “Let me make you feel good?”

You nod eagerly, a breathy please, David falling from your lips. He runs his hands up your thighs, marvels at the almost feverish warmth of your skin, before he lifts your dress and helps you pull it over your head.

Your underwear is white this time, a picture of innocence that only he knows is an illusion. His arousal swells at the thought, his cock pushing against the confines of his pants.

“Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this,” he admits, his hands trailing over your waist, tightening his grip momentarily and enjoys watching you squirm in response. “I think about you all the time.”

Your gaze flickers for a moment, and he realizes what he just said. It’s not a lie, but also not a truth that he intended for you to know. You bite your lip, expression turning thoughtful for a moment. Then a small smile spreads over your face.

“M–me too,” you whisper, a bit shy, like you’re still half-expecting him to take it back, but putting your trust in him anyway.

He has to kiss you again, remove all remaining doubts about how much he wants you from your mind. Licking into your mouth, he starts toying with the cups of your bra, pulling them down just so that his fingertips can graze over your nipples. You press your body into his touch, your back arching off the cushions, and he undoes the clasp, lets the fabric fall away from your body.

He runs his fingers over your flesh, teases the hardening buds, loves the way you keen into his mouth in response. Palming your tits roughly, he pulls away a little to look at them. He doesn’t think that he’ll ever tire of the sight of his hands on you.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmurs. “Like you were made for me.” It stings only a little right in this moment, while he’s touching you, to know that you are not. He can keep pretending, for a while. It’s worth it, seeing how you light up at the praise, how you drink in his every word, sinking deeper into his touch. His, his, his.

David peels your panties off of you, the image of the white lace against his hand one that you know will burn itself into your memory. His eyes linger on the fabric, a grin slowly growing on his face. Arousal tingles at your spine at the sight. You’re entirely bare now while he hasn’t removed one item of clothing. The obvious power dynamic leaves you feeling vulnerable, you and your body at his mercy, but you trust him. To treat you the way you want, need to be treated, to push you to your limits and to still keep you safe.

The weight of his hands lands on your thighs, slowly pushing them apart, making room for his body between them. You’re acutely aware of how wet you are, and how clearly he can see it right now, with your folds all spread out right in front of him. You feel your slick coating your inner thighs, feel his breath ghosting against it.

He groans at the sight and sinks to his knees, almost at eye level with your pussy. The realization of what he’s about to do sinks in as he leans forward and places a gentle kiss against your clit that has you trembling. But still–

“Y–you don’t have to do that,” you stutter, suddenly feeling a different kind of vulnerable. A shame that you can’t explain starts welling up inside of you.

He pulls back, sitting back on his haunches and looking up at you. His hands gently push your thighs back together, leaving you less exposed.

“Do you not want me to?”

You bite your lip, fighting not to avoid his gaze. “I don’t know. I– I’ve never–” Your voice trails off. A fire is burning in his eyes, intimidating you.

“No one’s ever eaten you out?” He sounds incredulous.

You shake your head, shoulders moving up in a shrug, a wave of embarrassment growing in you. “Men don’t really… like to. In my experience.”

He sighs and leans forward, presses a soft kiss to your left knee. “Most men are idiots.” It’s mumbled into your skin, lips moving against it. His fingertips inch up your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “You deserve to feel good, baby.” His voice sinks into your skin, low and raspy, and you have no choice but to believe it. “Will you let me make you feel good?” he asks again.

His dark eyes are on you, his fingers still tracing shapes over your skin. So close to where you want him. You’d let him do anything.

“Please, David,” you whisper, for the second time.

He pries your legs back open, a low growl in his throat as you’re spread out for him. Then he dives in, licking and sucking at your clit, gently at first, but quickly getting more intense, until stars start to burst behind your eyelids and you’re gasping his name. It’s overwhelming, unlike anything that you’ve ever experienced before.

He lets up momentarily, licking through your slit, drinking up your arousal that’s dripping out of you and groaning at the taste of you. His mouth moves to your inner thighs, kissing and sucking on the sensitive flesh. He bites down suddenly, sinking his teeth into your skin and you scream his name at the unexpected burst of pain that transforms into pleasure almost instantly.

He does it again, and again, leaving his marks on your body. It hurts just right, the sensation of him leaving his trace on you, marking you as his. You clench around nothing, desperate to feel him on your clit again, to take you the final bit to the top.

As if he was reading your mind, he lets up his ministrations on your thighs and kisses his way to the spot where you need him so desperately. Your fingers sink into his hair, tugging at the roots, and he looks up at you, smug pride glinting in his eyes. He licks through your folds, nudges at your entrance with his tongue, before his lips find your clit again, closing around the sensitive nub.

You come within seconds, the waves of your arousal crashing over you so suddenly that it takes your breath away. His groans vibrate against your skin as he laps at you, drinking you down. You feel like you’re in heaven.

David gives you time to calm down, gently mouths at your heated skin, licks over the spots where you feel the indents of his teeth, before he kisses his way up your body. You taste yourself on his lips when they connect with yours. It’s messy, and filthy, and you can’t get enough of it.

You whimper when he pulls back and his eyes find yours again, his almost black, the pupils blown wide. He rises to his feet and looks down to where you’re spread out, thighs parted, on full display for him as he towers over you. He leans down, a finger tapping against your mouth.

“Open.”

Your lips part immediately, giving him all the access he wants. He groans at your obedience, trails his knuckles over your cheek for a moment, before raising his hand to your eyes. He’s holding your panties again.

“These are so pretty. Would be a shame to just leave them lying around, don’t you think?”

You let out a sound, something akin to agreement. His grin widens.

“Good girl.”

His fingers push the fabric into your mouth, your spit soaking the material, mixing with the arousal that’s already sticking to it. You moan at the taste, your eyelids fluttering shut.

His palm connects with your cheek in a light slap. Not hard enough to sting, but your eyes fly back open at the sensation. You grind down onto the cushions, desperate for friction as another wave of need floods you.

“Eyes on me, remember?”

You try voicing a sorry, but it comes out garbled and he chuckles. Soothing his fingers over the spot he just slapped.

“There’s no need for you to talk. Just be a good girl and take what I give you, yeah?”

Your body is buzzing, but your mind is blissfully empty. Ready to give yourself over to him, to submit to whatever he asks. It feels so good, so easily being able to please for once in your life. To follow rules and be praised for it. Simple. Safe.

He wraps the lace around your head and ties it together in the back, effectively gagging you, leaving your mouth opened, the fabric stretching against the corners. Your desire is coursing through your body with so much force that it’s almost painful.

He kisses you over the gag, pressing his lips against yours. One of his hands wraps around your throat, applying a hint of pressure. Your hips chase him, your arousal close to unbearable. He chuckles against your mouth before he pulls back.

“Such a good girl.”

He teases you endlessly. Drinks in the sight of you writhing under him as his fingers are back on your nipples, tugging them harshly and eliciting soft mewls from you. You look beautiful in the golden light of the evening sun that’s falling through his windows, almost angelic.

An angel that he wrecked, already so fucked out when he finally sheds his own clothes and starts sliding his cock through your folds. He coats himself with the slick of your desire, taps his head against your clit, nudges at your entrance again and again without sliding inside.

Your whimpering cries are music to his ears, your fingernails digging into his shoulders sting just right. You’re pleading with him through the makeshift gag, your words all muffled, and he revels in the desperation in your eyes. Loves the sight of it.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” he coos, slides over your clit again. “Tell me.”

You’re trying, trying so hard to get out real words, and he chuckles at your efforts. Deciding to grant you a little mercy, he pushes the head of his weeping cock into you. He throbs at the feeling of it, of how your slick pissy tries pulling him in deeper. You’re whining at the stretch, your hands desperately grabbing at him, before he pulls back again.

Your eyes are swimming with tears, silently pleading with him. It’s like a rush. You’re always such a good, polite and well-behaved girl, so sweet, and here you are, completely bare and spread out underneath him, crying to get fucked. By him. He’s a bad man, he knows it. He doesn’t care, not when it feels like this.

He smirks down at you. “Say please.”

It’s obvious that you’re trying, your tongue struggling against the soaked fabric in your mouth. He lines himself up once more, looks at your face, at the desperate hope written out in your eyes. Then he slams into you. You scream, gripping his shoulders so tightly that he thinks you’ve drawn blood. He couldn’t care less.

Now that he feels your tight walls all around his cock, engulfing him with pulsing heat, it’s impossible to tease you any longer. He pulls back, just to sink deep into you, again and again. You cry out at every thrust, every time that he hits that spot deep inside of you that leaves you such a trembling mess.

He can tell when you’re starting to tighten around him, your cries getting higher, and he knows that you’re close. Slowing down, he leans his head down to yours, his thrusts becoming more shallow.

“Hold it,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting against the soft shell of your ear. A whine escapes from your throat, fresh tears falling from your eyes, your whole body trembling underneath him, your cunt squeezing him deliciously tight. He’s breathless, high on the control you’re giving him, on your level of obedience, doing every single thing that he asks from you.

Letting you calm down a little, he busies himself with kissing every inch of your skin that he can reach. Almost bursting with arousal himself, he knows that he’s not gonna be able to keep this up much longer.

When he speeds up again, he sets a harsh rhythm, jostling your body with every thrust, mesmerized by the way your tits bounce with the movement. Your walls start tightening around him again, pulling him in. He can’t hold back anymore.

“I’m gonna come. Gonna leave you just as messy as those little panties of yours. ‘S that what you want?”

You nod eagerly, more unintelligible pleads stumbling through the gag.

“Fuck, come here–“ His fingers scramble, ripping the fabric out of your mouth to kiss you properly, to feel your tongue against his.

His hips move at rapid speed, pumping into you and chasing both your orgasms. He’s breathless, high on the feeling of your wet cunt squeezing him so tight. You come with a cry, muffled by his mouth on yours, and the sensation of you clenching around him sends him over the edge as well. He buries himself deep inside of you, spilling his cum to leave you just as messy as he promised you.

“Fucking perfect, like you were made for me, only want you sweetheart…” He’s rambling, barely aware of what he's saying, still lost in the bliss of his orgasm. The words only register when an unreadable expression flies over your face in reaction. Shit. He goes through things to say, ways to somehow explain, though he couldn’t even explain the words to himself.

His mind quiets when you smile shyly and burrow your face in his neck. He moves the both of you until you’re a tangle of intertwined limbs, resting on his cushions, watching as the light slowly fades outside. You’re warm in his arms, your breath coming softly, fanning against his skin. It feels too right to be wrong, he decides silently.

The peaceful silence between you breaks with a chime from his phone, a message from your father.

“Looks like I’m invited to have dinner at yours,” he says, turning the screen towards you.

“Fuck,” you mutter, grabbing for your own phone to check the time. “I should get going.”

He helps you get dressed, until your still soaked panties end up in his hands again. His eyes flit up and down your body, lingering on the hem of your skirt, on the bare thighs beneath them. You take a step closer, your hand stretched out for them, but he pulls them away, sliding them into his pocket.

A smirk grazes your features as you take another step closer. “Again? Really?”

He shrugs, takes your hand to pull you into him. Your responding giggle is a sound that he’ll never get tired of. He sneaks a hand under your dress, palms your bare ass and presses your body against his.

“Be a good girl and stay like this, for dinner,” he murmurs against your lips, before he kisses you once more.

A grin slowly grows on your face as you realize what he’s saying.

“Deal,” you agree, your eyes glinting.

You’re sitting down next to him, sliding into the chair beside him with the most innocent, sweetest smile to both your father and him. You’re still wearing the dress that you left his place in, the one that, if you’ve been good, you’re bare underneath.

He reaches for you almost instantly, hidden under the tabletop, the pull towards your skin too strong to resist. You tense up for a moment, throwing him a quick glance, before you relax into his touch. He draws circles, featherlight on your skin, and you part your thighs a little more, allowing him to slide further between them.

Focussing on the conversation with your father isn’t easy, not when you’re right here beside him, so pliant under his touch.

“So, how was it with Cheryl?” your father asks, far too invested in the whole thing for Dave’s liking. You’re looking down at your plate, your shoulders slumped forward.

He shrugs, his hand traveling upwards, beneath the hem of your skirt, pulling your thighs apart a little more. “She’s nice, but– Not the right fit for me, I think.”

The memory of meeting the woman flashes through his mind. “You must be Dave,” accompanied by a shake of his hand. All wrong, so different from the way it sounds when David falls from your lips. He had wanted to leave right then and there. His grip on you tightens at the memory.

“Well that’s a shame,” Jim sighs, leaning back in his chair. “I really thought you two were a good match.”

Dave grunts noncommittally, taking another bite of his food.

“This one,” your father continues, his eyes falling to you, “has yet to find a good match as well. Not the best choices so far.” He chuckles, either blind or indifferent to the way you seem to shrink in your chair. You mumble something about focussing on school and your career right now, your voice so small that it breaks Dave’s heart.

“Boys your age are idiots anyway,” he says, grinning at how your eyes widen, his emphasis on your age in no way lost on you. “Wouldn’t want to have them distracting you, right?”

You nod silently, but fire burns in your eyes when his hand reaches so high that his fingers swirl through the slick that’s covering your upper thighs. Dave grits his teeth, fighting the urge to kiss you right here and now, consequences be damned.

It’s wrong, it’s so so wrong, but it’s like he’s lost in a haze, high on the feeling of your skin under his fingertips. On the way your thighs fall open so willingly for him, always such a good and obedient girl. On the way you both know that you’re bare underneath your skirt, dripping with the filthy proof of what you did together. On the way he’s staked his claim all over your inner thighs, to the point that he’s certain the indents of his teeth are still pressed into your flesh. All while your father has no idea what’s happening right in front of him.

The secret rebellion of it thrills you, he understands that now. He wonders if that’s what he is to you, an opportunity to do something so deliciously forbidden that you couldn’t resist. He’ll gladly be that for you. The idea to be the person who brought this out in you thrills him too.

He somehow makes it through the evening. Not a single conversation topic has found its way into his memories. All he can think about, all that he knows he will remember is the feeling of you under his tight grip. All his.

You had excused yourself when your father brought out the whiskey, squeezed his hand under the table before you stood up, carefully smoothing out your skirt. Call me, you had mouthed, turning back to look at him before exiting the room.

He knows that he will.

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider putting a smile on my face by reblogging, commenting or sending in an ask <3 thank you for reading!

#pedro pascal #dave york #dave york x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #fic: wildest dreams #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedrostories

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marvelstoriesepic · 10 months ago

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Listen to your gut

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky is assigned on a Hydra mission. Letting him venture back in the lion’s den without backup sets a deep unsettling dread knotting your stomach. Drowning out logic and reason you beg him to stay.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: angst, fluff

author’s note: Soft!Bucky here y’all

Masterlist

Something was wrong.

You knew it the moment you stepped foot in the debriefing room, getting unpleasantly greeted by those red tentacles of the Hydra symbol. A triggering wave of unease washed over you and a chill ran down your spine. The stark contrast of the red tentacles against the whiteboard felt like a sinister omen, a reminder of current dangers.

Technically you were on bed rest due to two broken ribs you received during the last mission you had with Steve, Nat, and Clint. Normally Bucky would join any mission you participated in even if he wasn’t needed but he couldn’t fathom the thought of not being able to protect you and stay in your reach.

Unfortunately though Tony, Banner, and he flew to Wakanda a few days prior due to research purposes on his new arm. Bucky wanted you to join him but since you were leading a training program for the new coming shield agents you were tied to the compound.

Already unpleased Bucky surely wasn’t happy to hear that you and the others got called in last minute and were already on your way to Siberia. He couldn’t get any updates on you the whole day and felt pretty helpless in Wakanda. He knew you were more than capable of holding your own in any situation. Your skills were unparalleled, your determination was unwavering. But despite his confidence in your abilities, he couldn’t shake the gnawing worry that gripped his heart. He loved you. And he worried. And he hated the thought of you being out there fighting the bad guys instead of crunching on chips on the couch, sparring with Nat, or joking with Sam all safe and sound in the compound.

So when Bucky heard of what you injured he was reeling. He couldn’t keep still, asked about updates on you every two minutes, scared a few kids with his glares after not being able to connect and talk to you on the first try and annoyed even Tony, usually immune to Bucky’s intensity, to the point where he was willing to fly back to the compound earlier than wanted.

After being able to communicate, you told him you’d be fine and you’d just be on bed rest for the next two weeks and he should just stay there until everything’s figured out but Bucky wasn’t hearing any of that. He just wanted to get home, hold his girl, and see for himself that you were truly okay.

So here you were, one week later sitting on a chair next to Bucky and looking up to Steve, who started detailing the mission plan, with that looming dread blooming in your stomach, refusing to be ignored.

You knew it wasn’t necessary for you to be here and listen to a mission plan you couldn’t participate in but it included Bucky. Healing took him a lot of time and you all knew he wasn’t completely over it. He never will be. How could anyone blame him? So you weren’t gonna let him sit through this alone to talk and hear about the organization that held him captive so many decades of his life.

Said man was currently sitting next to you, he scooted your chair to knock at his before you even sat on it to have you as near as possible. Your thighs were touching and his hand was linked to yours resting in your lap. Although it should probably be hard for him to sit here and hear Steve talk about those people while seeing them in pictures right beside him, Bucky’s main worry was you.

But you were uncomfortable. Not because of your injuries, you forgot them the second you got here, but because of that pit in your gut that wouldn’t stop increasing.

Bucky's gaze lingered on your profile a little longer the next time he looked at you, a slight crease in his brow. His concern for you was evident in every glance, every reassuring touch, but even his unwavering support couldn’t dispel the growing sense of unease that knotted your stomach. You knew you had no logical reason to feel this way, no tangible evidence of danger, but the nagging voice in the back of your mind refused to be silenced.

His name called by Steve made Bucky's head turn away from you but his grip didn’t falter.

As Steve spoke, his words washing over you like a distant murmur, you found it increasingly difficult to focus. Despite your best efforts, the details of the mission blurred together, overshadowed by the relentless drumbeat of your anxiety.

A squeeze of your hand helped you return your focus and you looked over to Bucky, his concerned gaze already on you. You sat up straighter, squeezed his hand back, and gave him a curt nod and a quick kiss on his cheek. With that, you moved your gaze toward Steve and pretended to listen.

Bucky’s focus was entirely on you still while he moved your joined hands to his mouth and kissed your knuckles affectionately. He was adamant about talking to you now, wanting to chase away whatever shadows were clouding your mind, but he knew this wasn’t the time.

You actually caught a few things here and there about what Bucky's tasks would be on that mission during the rest of the meeting and although it was pretty simple, especially for a 6ft super soldier with a metal arm, your worries didn’t ease. It also didn’t exactly relax you knowing he wouldn’t have any backup.

As the meeting drew to a close, you rose from your seat, your hand still firmly clasped in Buckys. His touch grounded you, anchoring you to the present as you navigated the seemingly endless hallway back to your room. With each step, the weight of your worries grew heavier, your hands trembling with the force of your emotions. Your bottom lip was hurting through the pull your teeth had on it. Bucky didn’t let go of you once. He opted to move his arm around you and pulled you into his side, kissing your head softly every now and then, and didn’t let up until you entered your room.

He closed the door with his foot and turned you to face him, moving his hands up to your face to cup your cheeks and take a better look at you.

“Baby what’s-”

“Don’t go!” you just blurted it out, interrupting him. But you needed to say it.

Bucky blinked, a little flashed at your urgency and the near desperation lacing your features. He swiped his thumbs over your cheeks, lips parted and searching your face. He took a breath but before he was able to utter a word you forestalled him.

“Don’t go on that mission Bucky!” you pleaded, voice wavering. It felt ridiculous and absurd to beg him to stay, to ask him to set aside his duty for the sake of your own fears. Missions were his job after all and you couldn’t explain what you were feeling exactly but just thinking about Bucky venturing into the heart of Hydra once again without any backup knocked your breath away, logic and reason drowned out. You couldn’t bear the idea of him facing such dangers alone, not after all he had been through.

Feeling hot and cold at the same time you felt goose bumps rising on your arms underneath your sweater. You didn’t need to see them to know they were there, desperately holding onto Bucky's wrists, clinging to him as if he were the only anchor keeping you grounded. Nothing you did however shook the feeling that something was wrong, that sending your Bucky into the lion’s den without any backup was a recipe for disaster.

Bucky ran his hand over your hair. He picked up on your elaborate breaths and your heartbeat increased erratically. You couldn’t even feel the normally soothing contrast of flesh and metal on your skin.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he whispered softly and leaned down to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I’m here, sweetheart. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Your teeth were still grinding on your lip until Bucky lifted his thumb to your chin to get it out of its death grip. He smothered the irritation on your lips with his finger while you avoided looking at him. You didn’t know how to explain your sneaking suspicion, didn’t know how he’d react to you just having some gut feeling. Cause that’s all it was. But if there was something you remembered of your grandmother it was to always listen to your gut sweetheart. It may save lives one day. You kept that in mind, a comforting reminder of the importance of trusting your instincts.

In junior high, you got asked out on a date by some guy a little older than you. You said yes and excitedly dolled yourself up later that day. But before you even got to leave the house, you felt it. A shiver ran down your spine, muscles contorted, and that uncomfortable dread loomed inside your stomach. Your body was basically screaming at you to turn away from the doorknob and not to leave the house. You listened. You sent the guy a quick apology saying something important came up and stayed inside. Up until today, you didn’t know if that suspicion was justified but you didn’t hear anything from that guy again.

Now, faced with a similar feeling of unease, you couldn’t ignore the warning signs that your body was sending you.

Your name being called, uncertain and concerned, cut through the haze of your thoughts. Baby blue eyes reached your vision again, Bucky having tilted your head to meet his gaze. You cleared your throat, a lump burning there.

“Uhm..I,” you took a shaken breath, “I just-” Your brows were furrowed and you closed your eyes for a second to get a hold of yourself and gather your thoughts.

Bucky still ran gentle fingers along your cheekbones, his body pressed against yours with his chest leaning back a bit to see you better. Worry lines creased his forehead, brows pulled together almost painfully and with a look so perturbed and as anxious as you although you hadn’t voiced what was on your apprehensive mind yet.

“I just feel like…” your voice trailed off, words faltering as you struggled to articulate the unease gnawing at you from within. You bit the inside of your cheek, but Bucky's light nod encouraged you to continue despite your doubts. “I just have a bad feeling about all this,”you finally managed to say, the admission leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

God, how would he think of you? Making such a fuss and worrying him out of his mind to tell him all you had was a bad feeling. You felt ridiculous again, burdening Bucky with your irrational fears when logic dictated otherwise. Letting out a huff at yourself you tried to leave Bucky’s hold, but he wouldn’t budge.

His metal arm wound around your back, pressing you back in his chest, the worry lines on his face might as well be permanent by now. He lifted your chin to meet his eyes. They were still so soft and understanding behind all the agitation. “A bad feeling?” he repeated, his voice gentle and devoid of judgment. All you could hear was his concern for your frenzy state.

Taking a deep breath you looked back at him. “Yeah, I just- I have that kinda gut feeling something’s gonna happen and I...I don’t know I-”

“Hey,” Bucky called again, moving his metal hand up and down your spine. “It’s alright baby. Steve said I probably won’t even have to engage in combat too much. It’s a quick in and out for all of us. It’s not an active base, we’re just there to gather intel.”

“Then they could do this without you.”

Bucky’s patient and understanding expression softened. “Theoretically they could,” he conceded. “But I’m good at going in there baby, don’t worry your pretty little head. And Steve would have sent somebody with me if he thought it wasn’t safe.”

You shook your head, frustration clear to see on your face. He just didn’t get it. And you couldn’t blame him for that. He was still not used to someone worrying about him. He was the last person to worry about himself and it broke your heart the first time you met him as it did now. He didn’t understand that you couldn’t live if something was to happen to him. So if your gut feeling could save his life you sure as hell would make him believe it was worth it.

“Buck!” It came out as a desperate plea, your voice cracking with desperation. Tears welled in your eyes as you clung to him, fists clenched tightly around his shirt “I’m begging you, please don’t go!” Your words were barely above a whisper, but the intensity of your plea spoke volumes.

All you could think about was the thought of losing him, the unbearable pain that would consume you if he were to be harmed. Your fear was raw and unfiltered, laid bare for him to see.

His initial reassurance fell away as he realized the depth of your fear, your vulnerability tearing at his own resolve. “Hey, look at me doll!” He grabbed your face in both hands again, wiping a lone tear away that left your eye. His expression grew painfully serious. “Don’t cry baby, please! It’s alright!”

He leaned down to press his lips to your forehead. More tears slipped past your lashes onto your cheeks and Bucky wiped them away immediately, looking pained himself.

With gentle hands, he kept cradling your face, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, his own eyes betraying the turmoil within him, so he squeezed them shut.

“Don’t go!” you whispered again, closing your eyes. It was all you could say.

He couldn’t bear to see you in such anguish, couldn’t fathom leaving your side when you needed him most. His forehead rested on yours. “I won’t go! Won’t go, baby, I’ll stay here.” He repeated his words as a mantra tugging you in a tightened embrace while whispering promises in your ear, his face in your hair.

Bucky’s heart clenched at the sight of your distress, his own anxiety rising in response to your tears and pleas. Your love for him was a beacon in the darkness of his past, a light that guided him through even the toughest of times. His thoughts often played with him by giving him scenarios of you dying. Of him losing you and what that would mean to his life. Well, he wouldn’t have a life anymore. Facing the possibility that you would feel the same if something were to happen to him was both, a burden and a relief. He felt a sense of helplessness wash over him. You always prided him on being strong, but in that moment, he felt powerless in the face of your fear.

You mourning his loss was a reality he couldn’t bear to contemplate, a future he refused to accept. So he did what he had to. He vowed to stay by your side, to forsake the mission and the risks it entailed in favor of your well-being.

He knew about the gravity of his choice. Steve would have to replan the whole thing, although he might be understanding, but this couldn’t necessarily be said about the other team members. Maybe he’ll be benched on the next few missions. But you finding the courage to confront your fears and laying yourself bare like that to him made him immensely proud. So in that moment, none of the consequences mattered. All that mattered was you, your safety, and the certainty of your love.

His words were a balm to your frazzled nerves, a soothing melody in the chaos of your mind. You clung to him, hands making wrinkles in his shirt, feeling grateful beyond words, and breathed in the comfort of his presence. The storm of your anxiety slowly ebbed away.

In that moment, Bucky made a silent vow to cherish every moment with you, to protect you at all costs, and to never take your love for granted. And as he held you close, he silently prayed that your gut feeling was nothing more than a passing fear, a shadow in the night soon to be dispelled by the light of dawn.

“When something feels off, it is”

- Abraham Hicks

#bucky barnes x reader fluff #soft!bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #soft bucky #bucky x y/n #james buchanan barnes #the avengers #avenger reader #avenger!reader #marvel #marvel bucky barnes #marvel fluff #bucky oneshot #listen to your gut

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redrose10 · 1 year ago

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Chapter 4

Here it is! I was nervous to put this out here so I hope it lives up. Yoongi realizes some things in this one but it might be a little too late. Chapter 5 should be out within a few days!

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word Count: 3,404

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

Waking up with a long stretch you were more than surprised to wake up in your hotel bed. The last thing you remembered was falling asleep on the beach but you have no memory at all of walking back to the room. You figured that hotel security probably found you and thought you were just a drunk so they brought you back to the room after finding your room key on you.

Looking over to the empty space next to you memories from the night before came flooding back to you. The delicious dinner you had and the joyous company of the waiter Hoseok. The sight of Yoongi and the brunette that was all over him. How he lied and called you his sister instead of his wife. How you felt lonely and betrayed and you just wanted to wish everything of the past couple months away.

Suddenly as if your brain finally caught up you realized you were sleeping in the same bed that Yoongi and that woman most likely hooked up in and that caused your skin to crawl. You jumped out of bed like something bit you tripping over your suitcase in the process and landing on the ground with a loud thud. You’d never been so happy for a vacation to end before. Getting in the shower you scrubbed your skin so hard you’re pretty sure you did damage but you wanted to scrub until you no longer felt dirty. After packing up your few belongings you walked out to the living room of your suite. Yoongi was already sitting at the dining table. You scanned his body for any new marks but nothing was visible even with the v neck tshirt he was wearing that caused you to internally scold yourself for staring at him a little too long. When he finally noticed you standing there he pointed to the seat across from him,

“It’s a chai tea. Jimin said you don’t really like coffee so I didn’t know what else to get.“

Sitting down at the table you noticed that the selection of food was all of your favorites. Chocolate chip muffins, a bacon croissant sandwich, crispy potato hash, strawberries, pineapple, a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice. Yoongi cleared his throat, “Jimin also told me some of your favorite foods so I had them bring what they could.” Unable to hide the shy smile nodded before taking a bite.

“Umm do you know when or how I got back to the room last night? I don’t remember walking back so I wanted to go thank whomever brought me here?”, you awkwardly chuckled trying to break the silence but also piece together last night. He took another sip of his coffee, “Yeah actually I carried you back to the room and put you in the bed.” His statement caused you to choke on the strawberry you had just popped in your mouth, “I’m sorry you did what?”

He repeated, “I saw you laying on the beach so I went down and brought you back and put you in the bed.” You looked at him with wide eyes, words escaping you. You ate another strawberry trying to stuff your mouth before saying something you’d regret.

“Why is your skin so red? It looks like you washed yourself with sandpaper?”, he asked looking you over.

“Oh when I woke up in the bed I felt kind of gross, you know since you hooked up with some woman in there, and I’m sure the sheets weren’t changed afterwards. Guess I got a little carried away.”

Yoongi nodded before taking another sip of coffee, “I didn’t hook up with her.”

You laughed, “Come on Yoongi. I saw the two of you. If you didn’t hook up then what did you do with her in here? I know you guys didn’t play a game unless it included clothes coming off.”

“I told her to leave.”

“What?��

“I told her to leave.”

“I know I heard you the first time but why?”

He returned back to his bagel without a word and you rolled your eyes, “Okay fine. Don’t tell me. I don’t really care at this point anyways.”

Yoongi let out a long deep sigh, “After a while I realized that you didn’t come in the room with us. I didn’t know where you’d be able to go at that time of the night and I didn’t think it was a good idea for you to be wandering around by yourself so I told the woman that we should continue somewhere else and that I’d book us another room so you could come back to the room. So when I went to grab my wallet on the table next to the balcony I saw you laying out on the beach. It looked like you were sleeping and I didn’t want you to stay out there like that because it was late and it’s dangerous and you might get eaten by a crab or something so I told her that we were done and that she needed to leave. I walked down to the beach to bring you back. I was gonna wake you up but you looked really comfy so I just carried you here and put you in the bed and went to sleep myself.”

You were dumbfounded at his story. Your face was full of disbelief. Taking a bite of your muffin you nodded, “Oh well uh thank you for bringing me back.”

He nodded.

“Also if there was a crab out there big enough to eat me I think we’d have some major problems.”

He rolled his eyes before he walked off to the bathroom trying to hide the blush creeping down his neck. You continued to eat but confusion plagued your mind. You just can’t figure him out. One minute he’s hooking up with some random woman on your honeymoon and the next he’s going out of his way for you and trying to be kind, almost seeming kind of protective. You really weren’t sure what to make of him but you wished he would just make up his mind because you’re starting to get whiplash from the back and forth.

The flight back home was uneventful. The two of you sat in comfortable silence other than the occasional statement. Yoongi sipped on a whiskey and you even decided to get wild and sip on some champagne.

The car pulled up to an extravagant looking building confusing you as to where you were and then it hit you. You had to move into Yoongi’s place and of course he lived in the most luxurious building in the whole country. You thought spending a week in the same hotel room was awkward so you had no clue how living together was going to go but part of you hoped that maybe the two of you can finally work on some things in your relationship.

Once in Yoongi’s penthouse he gave you a very brief tour. The home was incredible. Jimins apartment was nice but didn’t compare to the penthouse. Floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the city. All the furniture appears to be high end and high quality. You’re pretty sure your entire apartment back home could’ve fit in the kitchen alone.

Thankfully Jimin was able help you coordinate with the movers to have your stuff shipped over. You didn’t have to bring much since Yoongi already had a fully furnished home. You just brought some clothes and a few sentimental items.

“My office is the third door on the right. If I work from home I’ll be in there but please keep interruptions to a minimum and only if necessary. My bedroom is the second door on the left. Don’t go in there. Your room is right here.”, he said opening the door. You were thoroughly confused. “Wait we have separate bedrooms?” Yoongi sighed irritation evident again, “I have the space so I figured why should we have to share a room. This way we can stay out of each others way.”

When you saw his eyebrow move up you knew what he meant by that. You sat on the edge of the bed staring down at the floor. Sure it was a nice room and bigger than any room you’d ever had before with it even having a private bathroom. But that didn’t stop the loneliness and hurt that you felt. You were more like a roommate or even worse, a nuisance that that he just wanted to shove away so he didn’t have to look at you.

That thought made you chuckle though, “Good thing you don’t have any staircases in this place or I’d be stuck sleeping under there I guess.”

Yoongi looked at you with eyebrows furrowed.

“What you’ve never seen Harry Potter before?”

“Do I seem like the kind of guy that watches Harry Potter?”

“I guess not but you sure have a lot in common with a certain he who shall not be named.”

“What are talking about?”

“Nothing never mind.”

Yoongi noticed your change in demeanor. Stuffing this hands into his pockets he spoke, “You’re welcome to paint or decorate the room however you want.” You met him with continued silence. He continued, “I have to go into the office to catch up on things. I ordered some groceries to be delivered later. Jimin told me about you liking to have a mug of warm milk before bed and I was out so that’ll be here later along with some other things for you.” You nodded in acknowledgment whispering a thank you before he turned and shut the door behind him.

Due to your small amount of belongings you were unpacked in no time. Luckily you just put your last piece of clothing away when the doorbell rang signaling the grocery order arrived. Taking the bags from the delivery driver and thanking him profusely you set to work putting everything away while also familiarizing yourself with the kitchen. As you pulled out the groceries you chuckled a little more each time. There was the milk just like Yoongi had promised. There was also a large package of chocolate chip muffins, multiple containers of strawberries, your favorite ramen, some cookies, a box of popcorn, and cookie dough ice cream. All of your favorites. You made a mental note to thank Jimin and maybe also send a thank you to Yoongi depending on how he was acting later.

Over the next few weeks things between Yoongi and yourself didn’t improve much. The two of you barely spoke other than the occasional question or statement and that was if you even saw each other at all. You spent most of your time in your bedroom while he claimed to be at the office or other work functions. The one time you did venture out and sat in the living room your movie was interrupted when Yoongi came strolling in with a woman in each arm heading towards his bedroom after giving you a quick nod like you were just one of his friends who he was trying to brag to about his “score”. Suddenly not feeling so well you turned off the tv and got in bed. It didn’t take long to hear moans and a headboard banging against the wall from down the hallway so you grabbed your headphones hoping to block out the sound and fall asleep as quickly as you could.

The next morning Yoongi and his new friends were long gone by the time you got up. You set out on checking off some things on your to do list that you created. One thing you wanted to work on was learning Korean. You knew a few phrases thanks to Jimin but now that you were living in Korea you thought it would be a good idea to get to know the language in a proficient way so you started calling around to different companies trying to find someone to give you lessons.

That’s how a few weeks later you were sitting at your kitchen table with the teacher the company you chose had sent you. Kim Namjoon was a handsome man no doubt about it. He was tall with broad shoulders. The cutest dimples you’d ever seen. His glasses framed his face perfectly and they looked great with his caramel colored hair. His cologne the complete opposite of Yoongi’s cinnamon and vanilla scent. Namjoon smelled light and citrusy. It was clean and refreshing and somehow managed to take the stress away from you. The way he spoke was so elegant. It was nice being able to have a full conversation with someone. You loved Jimin but you guys mostly just goofed off and went on rants to each other and trying to have a conversation with Yoongi was like pulling teeth. You hadn’t realized just how lonely you were before Namjoon came into your life. This was only your fifth session and you found yourself really excited that you were getting to spend some time with him again.

“I don’t know Y/N. How will baking cookies help you learn a language?”, he sighed trying mask his playfulness. You giggled, “Well I could learn all the names for the ingredients and I can try to give YOU the instructions in Korean while you make the cookies.” He sat there and pondered before you continued, “Come on Joonie. Back home I’m famous for my double chocolate chip cookies and I know you can’t say no to chocolate.” Finally he ran a hand through his hair, “Alright but you have to tell me each step in Korean.” Excitedly you jumped up running around to collect the ingredients.

Watching Namjoon try to make cookies was one of the funniest things you’ve ever witnessed. He told you he had no business being in the kitchen but you didn’t think it was this bad. He was currently trying to mix in the flour to the chocolate batter and you couldn’t stop laughing as you watched half the flour fall onto the counter which covered him in a puff of white smoke.

“Here Namjoon let me help you.”, you said placing your hand on his much larger one so you could guide his movements to slowly mix in the flour. You looked up to see him smiling down at you dimples on full display. His lips looked soft and warm. The thought of kissing him definitely crossed your mind. Yoongi hadn’t kissed you since your wedding day and the most physical he’s got with you was carrying you to the room from the beach and to be honest you wouldn’t let him touch you anyways without seeing some test results first to make sure he didn’t pick up anything along the way. The ring on your finger caught your eye before you could act on your thoughts. Yoongi may be an insufferable adulterer but that didn’t mean you had to be one too. Two wrongs don’t make a right in your book but damn if Namjoon wasn’t making you think about doing all the wrongs regardless of the rights.

You were so focused on trying to explain to Namjoon how to add the chocolate chips in Korean that neither of you noticed Yoongi walk in. He watched you gently grasp Namjoon’s hand while smiling up at him. You looked so cute in your daisy printed apron. Namjoon said something that made you burst into a fit of laughter. Yoongi felt a pain in his chest. He had never heard you laugh like that before. You looked so happy with Namjoon. He knew that was all his fault so he didn’t understand where this jealous feeling was coming from and why his brain and heart were betraying him.

He watched you reach up to wipe away some of the chocolate that had gotten onto Namjoon’s cheek. The two of you definitely sharing a moment and Yoongi felt his heart rate increase. He quickly pushed that feeling aside as he had no right. He had slept with multiple women since you got married and he was the one that told you that you were welcome to see other people so if you took Namjoon to your bedroom right now he had nothing to say.

He thought back to that night he carried you back from the beach. You looked so adorable with your lips slightly parted, your skin a beautiful hue of pink thanks to the sun, the way you wrapped your arms around his neck nuzzling your face into his shoulder. At that moment on the beach he realized how harsh he had been and that you didn’t deserve any of it. It’s not your fault that at 19 years old another woman ripped his heart out and stomped on it and then lit it on fire and he decided he’d never allow himself to go through that ever again instead choosing to be the breaker of hearts. The night after he carried you to the hotel while laying in the bed next to you he made a decision that he’d change if not for him then at least for you. Obviously, he failed once he returned to Seoul and he was introduced to the two female interns that he brought back home while you sat innocently watching a movie waiting for him. He knew he was a coward. He was too scared of getting his heart broken again that he decided to continuously break yours and now it looks like you found someone to help mend it and who was he to take that away from you. Deciding he saw enough he rushed off to his bedroom before you could find him standing there.

Once the cookies were baked and cooled you packaged most of them up before handing the box to Namjoon.

“Here take these. There’s no way I’m going to eat them all.”

He smiled but shook his head, “What about Yoongi? I’m sure he’d love to have some of these. I don’t want to take them all.”

You chuckled, “Yoongi never eats anything I cook. He’s probably worried I’ll try and poison him or something so I could get out of this marriage.”

Namjoon laughed at your joke and then confirmed again he was okay to take all the cookies before thanking you and heading out the door. You did a quick clean up of the kitchen before heating up a mug of warm milk and grabbing the two cookies you had saved and headed off to your room for the evening after shutting off the light.

Later that night you woke up hearing a loud bang come from the kitchen. It sounded just like a cabinet closing so you assumed it was Yoongi making himself something to eat. Not being concerned you turned over and went right back to sleep.

Yoongi however, had checked every cabinet and drawer looking for the cookies you made. He always snuck little tastes of your food in the middle of the night when you weren’t there even though you always offered him food each time. Part of him being too stubborn and not wanting to give you the satisfaction of eating the food you cooked and another part of him just felt like he didn’t deserve your food and was too embarrassed to eat it in front of you. He had heard all about your famous cookies from Jimin and he was really looking forward to trying one when he saw you and Namjoon baking them. Giving up he turned to shut off the light and that’s when a little baggy on the counter caught his eye. Inside a perfect looking double chocolate chip cookie with a stick note attached to the bag saying ‘Yoongi’. He took one bite and was in heaven. He thought back to you and Namjoon looking so happy together. Like a real couple. How you smiled and gently touched him. How Namjoon made you laugh. Yoongi finished off the cookie but he was no longer enthralled by the chocolate goodness. Suddenly the cookie tasted like a mix of heaven with a pinch of jealousy and a dash of regret.

#bts #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #min yoongi #bts fanfic #yoongi fic #bts yoongi #yoongi x y/n #yoongi #arranged marriage au #ceo au #yoongi au #cinnamon&vanilla #namjoon #bts fic #bts x reader

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animehideout · 9 months ago

Text

LOVE IS THE MOST TWISTED CURSE OF THEM ALL

GOJO SATORU X FEM! READER

PART 12

check out final part here

a/n: Hiiii I'm back with another chapter, only one chapter left till we reach the end if this story. I apologize for the late update, my schedule kinda changed and it got busier so that's why I wasn't able to write and post, but good news that I'm back now yay ✨❤️.

Anyways I hope you enjoy this part as well. Some Angst, so grab some tissues and a snack of course to munch on while reading 😀.

Enjoy your reading session, love y'all so much 🫶🏻

Not Proofread ❌ Slight smut at the end.

You took another glance around the room, but didn't dare to ask any of your students about him. You sighed in disappointment but forced a smile to not worry your students and look suspicious or sad. You hated to admit it even within you, but you wished he was there, holding your hand till you awake. But you woke up surrounded only by your students, it's not like you don't appreciate them or they're not enough, you just wanted another kind of feeling, and that feeling could only be with your husband, Satoru. Once again you felt neglected by him even in this terrible condition.

Megumi was too focused on you, he knew right away by the way your gaze was shifting in every corner, every face in the room that you were looking for Gojo, he knew you needed him.

"Ehm, I'll go get Gojo since you're awake now" he said in a reassuring tone without meeting your gaze, and left the room to look for him.

"Where the hell did he go" he mumbled to himself.

"Hm Megumi? Is Y/n awake?" asked Nanami

"Oh yeah she's awake, and she's fine! By the way, did you, perhaps see Gojo around?"

"He's not here"

"Then where?"

"He'll be here later, don't worry about him"

"Nanami Sensei! I. Need. You. To. Tell. Me. please! It's important " he insisted,

With a tired sigh, he spoke,

"Alright! he's at one of the interrogation rooms at Jujutsu High, probably interrogating Mei Mei-"

"or my father"

and without further words, Megumi headed to Jujutsu High to bring Gojo to the hospital, to bring him to your side.

"Hey Megumi wait" yelled Nanami but je was already gone.

*1st Interrogation Room*

"Happy now? Where's that usual dirty smirk at? Gone?" started Gojo as he looked down at Mei Mei who got both her hands chained to the chair.

"How dare you chain me up? A well respected Jujutsu sorcerer!" she exclaimed angrily.

"Oh no no trust me, after releasing Toji from prison, paying him to kill my wife and putting the Jujutsu community in terrible danger, officially you're no longer respected" he spat and started to walk away

"NO NO PLEASE WAIT! GOJO WAIT I BEG YOU! I did this for you!" she started crying,

"I did this for you Gojo, just for your sake. You know about the prophecy, I couldn't let her exceed you and become stronger than you, you're the strongest Gojo and it should remain that way–please, I wanted to protect you–" she pleaded desperately, tears streaming down her cheeks, each sob echoed in the vast empty room.

With a mocking chuckle, he approached her again and bent down till he met her eye level, tilting his head to the side, his blue eyes piercing through her soul,

"oh yeah?" he started

"Y-es, yes just for you Gojo" she said with a soft smile while sniffing.

"Hah, pathetic how hard you're still trying, how hard you're still trying to manipulate me and get me to believe your lies–lemme give you the real fact behind all of this, the fact is that you desperately wanted Y/n to die. You knew Y/n will become something, more powerful than any of us, and of course your jealousy, ego and hate were triggered because another woman effortlessly stole the show and your desperate ass always wants to be in the spot light, taking all the attention, you've always wanted to br known as the strongest woman sorcerer, the perfect match for me, the strongest man! But all of that collapsed when I married Y/n" he paused and pointed his index finger at her,

"You desperately wanted to be her, you envied her even at her lowest, you're obsessed with her to the point that you betrayed the jujutsu world. But lemme tell you something, Mei Mei, Y/n didn't only steal the spot light, she also stole my heart! I love my wife, I love Y/n so much and if you dare to think of any possible plan that could possibly get you out of prison to hurt my wife again, then I'll end you–" he said calmly in a serious and low tone, moving away from her to open the door and leave.

"–end me? just like you ended Geto?"

she wanted to trigger him, to hit his weakest spot, to make his heart ache like hers and to see him all vulnerable, but he swallowed it, even though the name Geto was killing him and slicing him to pieces for years. His hand clutched the door handle tightly, turning his head, side eyeing her,

"Yes I'll end you just like I ended Geto"

Then he shut the door, leaving her all alone.

Right then, she knew she lost Gojo forever, and her last attempt to convince him by bringing Geto was only another reason for him to hate her even more.

"NO GOJO WAIT, no! don't leave me here! GOJO PLEASE"

She begged and begged, but for nothing he's left already and outside that room her screams are inaudible, no one is able to hear her loud cries, no matter how hard she tries.

Gojo reached the other door handle, moving into the next interrogation room,

"Gojo Satoru, we meet again" said Toji with a smirk, his hair falling on his face, his lip bleeding,

"Toji Zenin"

"I go by Fushiguro now"

"And I don't give a fuck, you're a criminal either way"

"Oww, too salty Satoru"

"I don't have time for this kind of chit chat, what was your plan to do to my wife?"

"Kill her obviously, duh!" said Toji rolling his eyes

"You son of a bitch, and you're proud of that, I'm not allowed to kill you, that was the higher ups call so be thankful for that, or else I would have put you through the most terrible death you could possibly think of"

"Are you threatening me? besides it wasn't my plan, it was your side chick's plan"

"The fuck did you say?" said Gojo angrily, taking quick steps to Toji punching him once again, making his nose bleed.

Toji started laughing hysterically,

"Alright you win, you win for the second time Gojo Satoru, but I don't think you won her heart, pity all this effort to save her is for nothing"

"Shut up"

"What? You think now you'll live happy ever after? That you'll start over and become a happy couple? Nah you're egocentric, selfish and fucking arrogant, and you've never known love and never will, I've spent three days with her and I can tell she can't live with someone like you. Both of you are far away from each other, two extremes, too empathetic and too apathetic. She'll leave your ass"

"I SAID SHUT UP" yelled Gojo, once again punching him,

"G-gojo?" said Megumi as he opened the door and witnessed it.

"Megumi?" said Gojo and Toji at the same time,

Megumi looked at Toji with what appeared empty eyes, but in the inside his heart was breaking into pieces.. He shifted his gaze to Gojo,

"Gumi what are you doing here?" asked Satoru

"Came to see you Gojo, you have to go to the hospital Y/n is awake and she was looking for you!!"

"D-did she tell you to l-look for me?" he asked hia heart skipping a beat,

"Nah I just figured out, you better go now"

"Wait aren't you coming with me?"

"No, I have to talk to him"

"Megumi! You know you don't have to stay here, you don't have to talk to him, he'll soon get the punishment he deserves–"

"I know, but he's my father and I need to ask him why!"

"Then I'll stay with you, it's not safe!" he reached to grab Megumi's arm,

"Gojo, please! just go to your wife, she's waiting, don't make her wait any longer! I promise I'll be fine" said Megumi with a smile,

As soon as Gojo left the room, Megumi approached his father standing right in front of him,

"S-son!"

"Why? Why did you do that?" said Megumi in a cold tone,

"Son please!"

"You've almost killed one of my close friends! Y/n is not just a teacher to me, she's my friend as well! and now I can't even look her in the eye, you know why?" he paused, trying to swallow back the lump that formed in his throat making him struggle to talk,

"Because of you! because of the shame I'm feeling whenever I see her or remember that MY FATHER WANTED TO KILL HER JUST TO GET SOME DIRTY MONEY FROM MEI MEI"

"Megumi! you need to listen to me! I had to do that!"

"No, there's no excuse that can get you away for murdering innocent people, first Riko and now attempted to do the same to Y/n just because Mei Mei told you?"

"I did all of this for you, to buy a house, a house that we can all call home! Where we can be a family again, me and you!"

"A family?" said Megumi in a mocking way,

"Yes, we can try again, I can fix everything, and make up for the years that I wasn't by your side–"

"You know what dad!"

"Yes son tell me!"

"I'm glad you left when I was young, I'm glad Gojo raised me and not you, or else I might end up a criminal like you. If my mom was alive she'd be the most disappointed in you, SHE WONT EVEN RECOGNIZE YOU DAD!"

"Megumi don't say please!" said Toji, tears forming in his eyes,

Megumi's words destroyed him because he knows they were true, his wife would be disappointed in him if she was alive.

"You ruined my life dad! Enough of it, stop trying to ruin others' lives just for money, just because you were neglected by the Zenin clan! Don't make others pay for what your clan did to you..." he added, taking steps backwards to leave the room,

"Son wait please! I'm so sorry I caused you all this pain, I'm sorry I wasn't there–"

"Just forget you ever had a son, just like what you did with your humanity....goodbye -dad"

with that he closed the door forever, not only the room's door but the door in his heart that he kept open for his father, wishing that some day, he would repent and fix his mistakes even though he knew deep down they can't be fixed. And now he's finally ready to let go, he can never forgive him for all this mess, for all these mistakes that he willingly committed.

Unable to keep it inside, unable to hide his true, delicate, sensitive self, after maintaining the cold, strong image for too long as a coping mechanism for always feeling inferior than others for being parentless. He finally let out the child thay was kept locked inside, and finally broke down into tears. With each loud sob, his chest rose and heaved with sadness. He cried because of the shame he felt, and because of the fact he's now letting go of his father, once and for all. He cried alone, hugging his knees like a baby, till it became hard to breathe.

But was he alone really?

"MEGUMI!!!!"

That voice, the voice that used to annoy him for telling jokes non stop, for laughing really loud and not letting him sleep, that voice now is saving him.

He looked up, his eyes puffy and red with tears.

Yuji and Nobara running towards him, worried expressions drawn on their faces, their eyes wide since it was the first time they see their friend shed a tear. They finally reached him, joining him on the floor.

"Megumi??! what's wrong buddy what happened?" asked Yuji his eyes softening,

"Fushiguro? Is everything okay? Why are you crying did someone hurt you?" asked Nobara her voice shaking with fear and worry.

He just started at them, not saying anything single word. Looking ay their genuine worried and confused faces, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, realizing that his friends got his back, that they won't let him down and most importantly he realized that he doesn't have to feel alone anymore. They truly loved him and cared for him. He was too broken to realize that, he thought his dad abandon him because he hated him, so he grew up with that mindset; his father hates him let alone people out there. But now, finally realizing that love, friendship saved him, from himself, from his dark thoughts and now he can start anew.

Nobara waved her hand on front of his face,

"Hey Fushiguro??"

Without saying anything he hugged both of them, finally feeling the love he's been rejecting. Allowing himself to feel it for the first time and damn it felt good to have someone care for you, it made his heart at ease.

He hugged them really tight, refusing to let go, without hesitation they hugged him back in a comforting way, their warmth radiating.

"Awww Fushiguro-Kun is being soft" chuckled Nobara

"Shuh Nobara, we love this version of Megumi, geez didn't know you're a good hugger Fushiguro" said Yuji smiling,

"Aaaaa why'd you ruin the moment guys" groaned Megumi

"Nah nah we're sorry, we're just wondering where's the real Megumi and what did you do to him" she added,

"Nah it's the real Megumi here, you just unlocked a premium version. Get used to it" said Megumi pulling away from the hug a smile still decorating his face.

"Well for sure we'll get used to it" said Yuji and Nobara at the same time.

"Wait!! did you leave Y/n alone at the hospital, till Gojo arrives?" said Megumi in a moment of realization.

"Nah nah she's home now, we brought her at the dorms" explained Yuji

"Oh shit"

"What?"

"Gojo went to the hospital to see Y/n, so he won't find her there"

"Come on, he's a married man, his wife would tell him" said Nobara smirking

"Wasn't she supposed to spend the day there, till Shoko makes sure she's fine?" he asked again,

"Yeah but after you left the room to get Gojo she insisted to leave as well, she said she was feeling okay and doesn't need to stay there" exclaimed Nobara.

*At The Hospital*

Gojo pushed open the door of the room that you were in. A mix of anticipation and stress took over him, not knowing how he would behave in front of you, is he gonna hold your hand, kiss you? What was he going to say? Baby? My love? I missed you? All these thoughts disappeared when he found the room empty, devoid of your presence. Confusion clouded his features as he stepped inside, his eyes scanning the surroundings, trying to find any of your belongings, but there was absolutely nothing. Anxiety took over him, his heart racing inside his chest. He got really scared, thinking that someone abducted you, still terrified from the last incident that happened to you. With shaky hands he reached his phone to call one of his students, but before he can do he received a message from Nanami informing him that they moved you out of the hospital and took you to the dorms to rest there.

He let out a deep breath he didn't know he was holding, calming down slowly.

With a heavy sigh, he sank onto the edge of the bed, blaming himself for not being there when you woke up.

*Flashback*

You laid unconscious on the hospital bed after being treated by Shoko. No one was there except Gojo. He held your hand tightly, staring at your soft features as you were in your pretty slumber.

"I'm here Y/n, my beautiful wife, my princess" he whispered to you as you slept.

"I'm sorry, please wake up..wake up so I can tell you how much I love you, how bad I want to make you mine, how I want to fix things and start anew with you as a true husband, a husband that will love you, care for you and protect you, I won't let anyone hurt you.." he paused, remembering the state he found you in, on the floor, bloody nose, shirt almost torn off, his body tensed up.

"I'll punish them for what they had done to you" he added and left the room heading to the interrogation rooms at Jujutsu High.

*End of flash back*

*Time skip, night time*

Your students and Nanami already brought you everything you might need; food, water, some snacks and some manga books that Yuji gave to you to pass time.

You laid your back on the bed frame, grabbed a bag of chips, a manga book and started reading enjoying your own company, trying your best to distract yourself from thinking about Satoru.

Engrossed in the pages of your book and in your own world, the soft rustle of the door opening brought you back to reality. You already knew who it was, it was your husband Satoru. Even though, you were distant from each other, you got used to his footsteps. He closed the door behind and greeted you gently,

"Hii Y/n"

However, you remained absorbed in your reading, refusing to look up at him or even greet him back. He thought you were too focused on the book and didn't notice him arriving so he cleared his throat, attempting to get your attention this time and said,

"A-are you feeling better now? How's your leg?"

But again you remained silent, as if he wasn't in the room, as if his voice was inaudible to you. He received the message and realized that you don't wanna talk to him, and he respected your decision, he chose to not push too far especially that you're still traumatized from what happened to you.

With a resigned sigh, he took some clean clothes from the dresser, and made his way to the bathroom to take a shower that might wash the tiredness away. The sound of the running warm water that fell on his body mingled with the quiet of the room, a gentle reminder of the distance between you and him.

You put the book on your nightstand, and shut your eyes, you tried to go to sleep before he joins you again, you've already took your decision, you'll ignore him, you'll distance yourself even more, you won't let him pity you and help you because he feels sorry for what had happened to you. You refused to be the victim, you won't allow anyone to feel bad for you.

...

Opening the door again, he found you fast asleep, hugging your pillow for comfort. He smiled to himself as he saw your sleeping face.

He missed being in your presence, even if you were only sleeping. He dried his hair and then gently approached the bed, already dressed in his pajamas. The mattress sank as he joined you, getting under the covers. He used his elbow to keep himself up a bit while he watched you sleep. Your pouty lips that he craves to kiss, your soft skin that he wants to caress, your chest that rose and fell with each breath. It was the small details that made him fall for you, that made you so special. He was watching and watching till your comfy sight lulled him to sleep, and now he joined you, his head next to yours, his arms fell on your waist as he spooned you. Finally both of you not only sleeping under the same roof again all safe and sound, but being this close to each other.

.....

You woke up in the morning to him all over you, his arm laid comfortably on top of you. You rubbed your eyes, thinking it was a dream but it was reality. As much as it made the butterflies in your stomach go crazy, it made you feel sad as well. And the small smile that instinctively formed on your lips, disappeared.

"Maybe he just rolled over" you said to yourself, still convinced that whatever he was doing was everything and anything but love.

You pushed his hand away, getting ready to get breakfast with the rest of teachers and students as well. You missed those mornings, with Nobara talking nonstop, Panda eating everything on the table and Nanami annoyed whenever principal Yaga announced a new mission. You felt like family, you felt included but it's always something missing, the true love, the love of your husband.

It is indeed hard to live a one sided love story, realizing your feelings towards Gojo were more of a problem than a realization, maybe it could have been a lot easier if they remained undiscovered, because starting from today you'll live with the fact that your husband that you fell head over heels with doesn't reciprocate your feelings, at least that's what your mind told you.

The mind works in mysterious ways, sometimes when you're used to some kind of feeling, it becomes like a drug, so when you experience another feeling you always find a way to include that specific feeling again. And that's the case for you, you've been feeling lonely and unloved your whole life, and you thought you'd be feeling that way for the rest of your life not even giving yourself a chance to ask if he feels the same.

...

You walked towards the table, the food was ready, the scent of coffee was intoxicating. Your students already there, excited for food like every single morning.

"OH Y/N - SENSEI GOOD MORNING" said Yuji excitedly,

"Good morning Sensei" said the other students in union with a big smile.

You nodded smiling at their morning energy that was circulating in the air,

"Good morning everyone"

Nanami and Shoko joined, followed by Principal Yaga and then Gojo who came running and out of breath looking for you, but then letting a deep sigh once he saw you sitting around the table safe and happy. It became his new freshly unlocked fear; you not being by his side.

"Oh you're here" he mumbled,

"Huh Gojo what's up with that face? did you see a ghost?" said Principal Yaga

"I'm fine" he shrugged and then joined you, sitting on the chair that was right next to you.

He gazed at you, clearing his throat,

"You woke up early today, I thought about bringing you food to bed so you don't have to tire yourself" he started almost whispering.

You shoved the spoon full of rice in your mouth, not bothering to look at him. The others exchanged gazes but started eating shortly, not wanting to get into your business. Gojo started eating as well thinking about ways to approach you or find a key to start even a small conversation and get you to talk to him.

"So Y/n are you feeling better?" asked Nanami

"Yeah much better actually, thank you Nanami!" you smiled,

And Gojo felt his heart crash, as if he received a stab right in the chest. He wished it was him you were smiling at.

"Yuji can you pass me the salt please?" you said gently,

but before Yuji could reach it, Gojo already snatched it from in front of him and gave it to you,

"Here!" he said with a silly smile,

You poked the inside of your cheek and took the salt from him not even looking at him.

"Um Y/n–" started Satoru but you cut him off by starting a conversation with Yaga sensei.

"By the way Sensei, I feel like I'm ready to start teaching again–"

"WHAT NO!" yelled Satoru

You raised your eyebrow,

"You need to rest Y/n, you've been through a lot" he added worriedly.

But you ignored his concern and his comment and shifted your gaze to Principal Yaga again,

"My students must be missing my classes"

"But y/n Gojo is right! You need to rest! it's been only one day" exclaimed Principal Yaga

"I'm feeling okay!" you said smiling.

"Alright then, do as you please but don't tire yourself, okay?" said Yaga sensei with a smile

You nodded smiling.

"Y/n please, you've been through a traumatic experience, this phase is the hardest even if you're not realizing it" said Gojo with worried eyes.

But you ignored him again, getting up from the table, wiping your mouth with a napkin heading to your room to get ready for a day full of teaching.

......

It was a long day full of laugher with your students, they did everything they could to make sure you were comfortable and happy. Especially Yuji he acted extra silly to get you to laugh uncontrollably. They wanted to help you forget about the terrifying experience as soon as possible.

You were in the balcony at night, enjoying the night sky, getting back to your favorite night activity, watching the stars. It always put a smile on your face. It reminded you of how vast our universe is and how small our problems seem in front of it.

"sensei?"

You looked back,

"hm Megumi? are you okay?"

"Yeah! is it okay if w-we talk a bit?"

"Sure Gumi, tell me!" you replied with a soft grin, now giving him your full attention, anticipating his words

"I–I w-wanted to apologize!" he said looking down at his feet unable to meet your gaze

"Hm? for what?"

"I - I'm sorry sensei, I'm ashamed of what my father did to you, he doesn't represent me, I'm not like him and I completely oppose it, always been I–" he said nervously fidgeting with his fingers.

"Megumi" you started, placing your hands on his shoulders,

"I know who you are! I know how kind, caring and loving you are! You don't need to apologize, you don't need to explain anything. It's not your fault that your dad chose the wrong path, so don't ever blame yourself! Stand proud Megumi! You are an amazing student, an amazing person and an amazing friend of mine" you insisted giving him a light squeeze.

"Really?"

"Yes you are! Don't ever doubt yourself! come here" you added and pulled him into a warm hug.

.........

*2 days later*

"Yaga sensei, since Toji is in prison now what about Y/n and I go back to our house?" suggested Gojo.

"Huh? Why the rush you don't like it here?"

"No it's not like that, it's just since our marriage we had to live here so it would be nice to go back to our own house"

"I like it here" you said out of the blue, showing that you refuse to live with him in a vast house alone.

"But y/n, our house is big, you'll feel more comfortable there, our room is waiting for you–"

"Oh Yaga sensei I thought about making a writing test as well not only a practical one" you said cutting Satoru off, as if his words didn't matter.

Starting a new conversation, totally neglecting him. Everyone around the table noticed it but have no right to interfere. Your inside was screaming, wanting to give in and move back to your house again where you can live only you and your husband, enjoy each other's company and privacy but it was complicated, life is not a movie scene and you can't wipe away the bad memories easily.

*Time skip*

You were in the balcony, waiting for the sunset. You've been lying to yourself, thinking that teaching again and distracting yourself with some jokes would make you forget about the hell Toji and Mei Mei put you through. You were already suffering from anxiety and this incident made it worse. You were getting a good night sleep just because you were using the pills that Shoko gave to you or else you'll wake up screaming from your night terrors, from the trauma you had lived. You started getting random panic attacks whenever you were alone, your hands would get all sweaty and start shaking, cold sweat dripping from your forehead and you felt like being choked.

Maybe it would have been easier if you told them what you truly felt and not pretending to be okay. Maybe it would have been a lot easier if you confessed your true feelings to Satoru even if he rejects you.

A tear rolled down your cheek, knowing that it got worse and that Gojo did a mistake by saving you. Maybe the world would be a better place without you. You felt useless and a heavier burden now, going back to teaching to prove yourself useful in something, only to find your students pitying you and trying to help you instead of you helping them. With a deep breath, lost in your thoughts, you came to a conclusion, that leaving is the best option. It's been weeks and your curse didn't break, and you've already lost faith that it would break, and you can't live on false hope that one day you'll become a sorcerer and make your family proud. You feel like your husband that was forced to marry you, is now forced to take care of you and treat you differently because you were the unlucky one to get kidnapped by one the most dangerous murderers. Your family won't accept you or treat you fairly as long as you remain a monkey with no curse energy.

"It's all related" you chuckled to yourself,

You checked your phone, and credit card, already clothed in your jacket to protect you from the cold.

You took a moment to watch the sunset first, it was mesmerizing, the color degradation representing different phases.

"Sunsets are a living proof that endings can be beautiful too" you said to yourself.

You started walking away, leaving Jujutsu High behind, not knowing where your legs would take you but at least you know you'll be safe, Mei Mei and Toji are in prison now. You just wanted to get far away from everyone, you knew you didn't fit anywhere, you don't belong anywhere. So maybe you'll start as a normal simple human, with a normal simple job. It broke you to run away from them, you considered them a family and you knew you'll carry all those beautiful memories with you whenever you go, but what broke you the most, is leaving Gojo without a proper goodbye, but for your self-respect you chose not to give him another reason to feel sorry for you.

*Time skip*

"SENSEI! SENSEI HAVE YOU SEEN Y/N?" asked Gojo as he rushed downstairs after asking literally everyone and they said no.

"No!"

Panic coursed through his veins,

"Sensei what if someone abducted her again?"

"Relax Gojo, she's not a kid I'm sure she's safe, Toji is imprisoned so is Mei Mei, I'm sure she just went for a night stroll"

Gojo looked at him in disbelief, and left Jujutsu High and start searching for you, maybe he's being paranoid now and scared by the slightest thing but he can't afford to lose you, not again.

...

He searched everywhere, anywhere possible, he even went to Mei Mei's house to make sure you weren't there even though he knows damn well that both of them are paying for their mistakes. He check every corner, every street, every alley but you're nowhere to be found.

He started sweating, his heart hammering against his ribcage, feeling the sky narrowing around him and suffocating him.

"Where are you y/n, please!" he said to himself.

He paused when a thought crossed his mind, he knows you're a space enthusiast. You enjoy watching the clear night sky and chase the stars, but to do so you need an excluded area, away from Tokyo lights. A hill 2 hours away from Jujutsu High, but it's Satoru, he doesn't need 2 hours to reach that hill in a matter of seconds he found himself there.

It was dark, but he could see a figure standing, head's up to the sky. The city light bellow on full display. He knew right away that it was you. He wanted to announce his presence to not scare you, so with a soft voice he spoke,

"y/n?"

Yoh turned around, looking at him in disbelief. Without saying anything you started to walk away but he rushed towards you and grabbed your arm,

"Wait y/n please talk to me!"

"Satoru leave me alone"

"No! no I'm not leaving you alone, not this time! Why are you ignoring me? Why are you being being so cold towards me? I understand it was my fault and I'm so fucking sorry about it but please talk to me–"

"Satoru! For god's sake, let me go, let me live, let me try a new start away from all of this"

"Why? you can start anew here? with us! with me!"

"No you don't understand! I don't belong to your world, I don't belong here! I'm sick of it" you explained a tear fell down,

"You belong with me y/n, please let me help you"

"I don't fucking need your help, I don't need anyone's fucking help, I'm tired of being the one in need, I'm tired of being the one who needs to be saved. Because no one of you will, and because it's so fucking degrading, I'm sick of myself, sick of not being able to protect myself-"

"Y/n you're not realizing your potential, please don't rush things!"

"Don't rush things? It's been weeks Satoru and nothing worked, I can't let you go through this, you deserve to be with someone like you, you deserve to be with someone strong, a sorcerer not a talentless human. It's over okay!! I was ready to send you the divorce papers so you don't need worry about anything, I'm no longer a burden, and you won't take my responsibility, I know you're sick of me and of all this prophecy shit" you paused,

looking straight into his blue eyes, if you could trade the night sky for his eyes then you would, you would choose to look deep into those blue canvas. You wanted to take into his face, to stare longer memorizing his features so they take a longer time to fade from your memory.

"Rejoice Satoru, you're free!" you said and freed yourself from his grasp, walking away,

His heart beats escalated, watching you walk away. No it can't be, you can't leave him, not when he realized that he couldn't breathe without you, not when he realized he can't sleep without your scent in the room.

"No, you can't leave me"

He grabbed you again, pulling you against him,

"I can Satoru, that's what you fucking wanted so don't act like you don't want it"

"I'm not acting, I don't want you to leave"

"Why? So you can feel less guilty by making it up for me even if you don't want it?"

"NO!"

"Then fucking why?"

"BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE YOU!"

A moment of silence fell over the place, looking into each other's eyes, only your heavy breathing is being heard,

"I love you y/n, I love you so fucking much that I can't take it anymore, I love you that the only thing I can focus on is you, I lOVE YOU THAT I WOULD GIVE UP HEAVEN IF IT MEANS I GET TO BE WITH YOU, BECAUSE YOU'RE MY HEAVEN Y/N, YOU'RE MY BLESSING. I WAS YOUR CURSE AND I HATE MYSELF FOR THAT, BUT LOVE, LOVE MADE ME A FOOL, A FOOL FOR YOU"

You didn't say a word, you were too shocked, words still processing in your mind. You froze, trying to figure out if it was a dream or a reality. But when he crashed his lips on yours, you knew it was real, by the way his soft plump lips felt on yours. His big hands grabbing your waist pulling you towards his body that was screaming, yelling for you, for your touch. You closed your eyes enjoying the sensation, a sensation you dreamt of for many nights, and days. Daydreaming, wondering how his lips would taste.

Instinctively your hands moved around his neck, pulling him closer. Your breath mixing, breathing each other in and out. Kissing each other so passionately as if your lives depend on it as if the world stops rotating, the clock stops ticking, and humans stops breathing. Only you and him in a vast world.

He pulled away, intoxicated by your taste, his eyes full of love and lust at the same time, growing impatient as the seconds passed by, the he spoke with a foggy voice,

"Let's go to our house, our home, tonight I'll make you mine and you'll make me yours.. let me do your duty as your husband, allow me to get a taste of you and get a taste of me"

Your chest rose and fell, feeling the electricity run in your system, turning you on even more.

"mhm" you nodded, you'd follow him everywhere even to your decease.

You were ready to finally give yourself to him, to allow him to do as he pleases to you and you do as you please to him. Finally, a few moments till you become a real husband and wife, a few moments till you taste heaven.

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phan3145 · 4 months ago

Text

Title: Slippery Slope. Fandom: Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Implications, Possessive and aggressive behavior ) Pairing: Eventual Noa x Human!Reader.

***Notes: I will be going on a HIATUS for a few weeks. Work is switching over tech this week to new software I need to learn, and then next week is my one year anniversary with my husband. We are going to swim with dolphins at Discovery Cove in Florida! I’m excited, but I’ll be writing in my free time and banking chapters so everyone will have more regular Wednesday updates when I return. Until then, thank you to everyone who has been reading and commenting up to this point. You all mean the world to me ❤️

Chapter 10: Bad Words, Bad Feelings

Noa

When she turned, the look in her eyes had him wanting to kneel on all fours in submission. Ridiculous. He was Master of Birds, he submitted to no one. Anaya did not have the same title as him, actively looking down and shuffling back a step. He would have teased him for it, for his submission to an Echo, if the next step she took did not have him questioning his own assurance. He fought his spine’s urge to bend, remaining upright by sheer will.

Her anger was somewhat confusing, but it became clearer as she demanded, “Is that what I am to you? A pest?”

Ah. That seemed to be the cause of her mood shift. He tried to explain the situation, hoping to calm her, “Humans are…considered pests…to my clan…they have never met…a good Echo…that could speak.”

Unfortunately, this did the opposite of what he had intended. She took another step towards him, hands balled into fists at her sides. He knew she was not foolish enough to try to fight him, let alone hit him, but the idea itself was amusing to think about. He recalled her nails digging into his shoulders a few days ago, that was probably the most pain she could inflict on him if she tried. Still, he had seen that look in her eyes once before. Only once, during a time in his life that seemed so long ago now. It was when Mae had killed Lightening, using her human weapon to save Soona. It was angry, it was resolute, and there was a trace of fear behind it all.

“If we’re such pests, and you had to convince your elders, then why even bring me?” She asked, shuffling in place as if she couldn’t decide if she wanted to take another step forward or go back.

“I had…no choice,” he admitted. “You…saved my life…you..spend time with…Master of Birds…but do not…show yourself…makes apes…uneasy.”

“No choice…” she muttered, looking away from him and back towards the village.

He could see many expressions dance across her face, her eyes distant as she seemed to be thinking on his words. Whether that was a good or bad thing, he could not say. He noticed the muscle along her jaw become more prominent, before her head snapped back to him like a cobra strike, eyes holding heat worse than fire. This time, he did flinch back. It was scary, how Echos could be calm and docile, then turn like a wild animal ready to defend its existence. He did not understand it.

Her voice raised, louder than he had heard it before, “No choice? There’s always a choice! There should always be a choice. What frustrates me the most about this, is you say you didn’t have one, but I know that’s not true! You’re the Master of Birds, no one…higher than me, remember? You expect me to believe you didn’t have a choice?”

He could not meet her eye, casting his gaze downwards. He had a choice. Of course he did…though it really did not feel like one. He had responsibilities now, he was no longer a youngling. He could not keep running off with his Sunset Brother and Sister to visit a strange Echo as if his life had no purpose. The clan demanded more of him, they needed a leader who was present. Anaya and Soona deserved better from their leader too, having to assist him on days they did not see you to make up for the days they did. They each would hunt and gather food equal to three apes, while he tended to eagles and prepared for Big Climbs of this season’s apes.

Though she also assisted with gathering, there was only so much an Echo and three horses could carry. It would be better if he could bring a larger party, but that meant not seeing his Echo, or worse, scaring her. That is what it came down to. He was choosing her comfort- choosing her, over his clan. If she could just meet them, maybe even be accepted as part of his clan, then he would not have to choose. There would be no choice.

The elders of course, were the cause of this. They learned of his meetings with an Echo, smelling her on him when he returned from their visit to the library. They ‘advised’ him to either chase her away, to avoid further distraction, or present her to them so that they may learn her scent and know her. She was not a threat of course, so that should be no problem. The real problem was, if her first exposure to apes of the clan after everything she had been through was the elders, then she would never come back. The elders were…elders. They would not treat her with the respect she deserved immediately, if at all. They still did not care for Humans. Mae certainly had not helped his cause either. He thought his mother, the younglings, and a few apes only a season or two younger than him might be enough to sway her opinion in a positive favor towards his clan.

She scoffed, his continued silence stretching too long for her liking. “I knew it. And when we first met you accused me of being a liar.”

“I did not…lie.” He growled, gaze jumping back to hers. He made sure his canines were not bared, anger creeping up on him now as he confessed, “The other option…was not a choice…I had to…think of my clan.”

“Of course! Oh, and since we’re on the subject of choice,” she was quick to add. “Were you going to give me a choice? You didn’t think it might be important to tell me that you were blindly leading me to your village of apes?”

Shame burned the pit of his stomach, knowing he was untrue when it came to this. She was right, and oh, how he hated it. Still, he could only argue, “Thought…it would be better…if I did not…if you could…only meet apes.”

“I have met apes, Noa.” She hissed, teeth bared now as she paced towards him, stopping with only a few inches separating them.

Any other time, he would enjoy being this close, her scent becoming this familiar yet ever changing thing that he had memorized countless versions of. It brought comfort to him, certain scents of hers calling forth memories he had shared with her in private. He did not understand how or why her scent was not constant, but he decided he did not dislike it. At present, her being this close, hissing and baring her teeth? Her scent was an unwelcome distraction, forcing him to fight the natural instinct to bare his own canines and force her to yield to him. He did not like this feeling of having to defend himself from her. It was not natural, as an ape or as her companion.

“You know I’ve met apes before. You also know what they took from me, and what that has done to me.” She continued, voice lowering. It was softer in volume, but harder in tone, like it was coming from the back of her throat. It sounded hurt. “You know this, because I told you. I told you because I trusted you. I have never trusted an ape like I trusted you. That’s because you were never like them, Noa. Never. Not once.”

He felt his own rising anger cool and mellow, hearing her praise him even while hurt by his actions. She wasn’t done though, “Today was different…you were different. Instead of setting yourself apart like you always do, instead of being the Noa I’ve come to know…you took the choice away from me. You decided for me because you believed that you knew better. This is why I live alone, no one gets to make decisions for me. Especially not an ape.”

“Trying to fix…” He began, but she cut him off.

“You don’t get to argue this!” She said, raising a finger to point at him, “Just because I trusted you, doesn’t mean you suddenly get to make decisions for me. You’re trying to fix something that’s not broken! The way I react, the way I am, it’s what keeps me alive! But why am I surprised? This is the way apes are. With enough power and time, you and your clan will become just like them.”

The words stung, and he gritted his teeth, lips pulled down as far as he could over them, “Not..true.”

“No?” She questioned, “How are you any different? You and your clan already see humans as pests, something lesser than you, to be chased away. Do you think that’s any different from how they saw me?”

A part of him recoiled on the inside, remembering similar words he had spoken to Raka regarding Echos. He did not know then, but he knew now, and that is not how he saw her. “You are not lesser…but you are…alone…you do not have to be…apes in clan would…welcome you.”

“You think so?” She challenged.

“Know…they would.” He replied, “Anaya…and Soona did.”

Her eyes cut then to Anaya, who was swaying on his feet, arms tucked into his chest, taking in everything happening around him. He looked as if he wanted to leave, but also would not tear himself away from their Echo while she was upset. He had become strangely loyal to her…though maybe he was not the only one. Her gaze returned to him, something underlying in her tone as she argued, “Not every ape is like Anaya and Soona.”

“Come and…see for yourself.” He tried, grasping for her. His palm connected with hers, and he had just started to curl his fingers around her wrist, when she swiftly ripped her hand away. She avoided his touch, a first for them, and took several steps back, completely out of his reach. He saw her overlap both arms across her chest, hiding her hands away from him within the crook of her elbows.

It was another sting, but he refused to chase after her. “You said…did not give you…a choice…I chose…because I know…you would have…chosen to run…like you always do.”

Her eyes went almost comically wide before narrowing, “Excuse me?”

“You are…afraid.” He continued, thinking he could potentially goad her into following him. “Ridiculous…dumb…Eagle Clan…would not harm you…yet Echo is…scared…so scared…always scared…of apes…jumbled.”

With every word her breathing increased, hands clenching and jaw tightening. Anaya, seeing the same thing he did, grunted, “Noa…stop.”

He raised his arms, keeping them wide as he challenged, “Prove…wrong.”

She stood there, unblinking as she stared him down. He thought she would march back up the hill, so strong willed and stubborn when she wanted to be. A few more silent moments passed before she finally decided to respond. He could not have predicted the next words out of her mouth.

“No.” She said, no anger or malice in her tone. It was flat, emotionless. That scared him.

His arms bent, lowering slowly as he parroted, confused, “No?”

Her steps were strong, purposeful, her shoulders back and head raised as she devoured the distance she had placed between them. Though her movements were not threatening by any means, he tried to keep some space between them, feeling his breath become heavy in his chest when a tree suddenly met his back. There was something about her now, this new stance, that made his own mind jumbled. He forced himself to focus as she spoke, “No. I do not have to prove anything to you, I owe you absolutely nothing. Not my time, not my attention, not my life, and certainly not my trust.”

His brows furrowed, “You…would rather run away…than trust my clan…trust that I…would not let anything…happen to you?”

Her words were scathing as she answered. “Let me explain this to you in a way your chimp brain can understand. I want nothing to do with your clan…or you, Master of Birds.”

“Echo does not…mean that.” Anaya interjected, finally stepping forward and somewhat in between the two of them. “Echo is…upset…Noa is wrong.”

He huffed at that, “Echo thinks…but it is true…she will always…be afraid…if she runs now.”

She pivoted around Anaya as he attempted to edge her away from him. “What are you trying to accomplish here? Do you think I’ll meet your clan and just forget what happened to me? Or are you naïve enough to think your clan will suddenly accept an Echo pest because you told them to? I’m not an ape!”

“As good as,” he countered.

She scoffed, “Is that meant to be a compliment or an insult?”

“Only human…would think being called ape…is an insult.” He snorted, realizing how this was the first time in a very long while he referred to her as a human and not an Echo. When he had actually begun to separate the two terms, he was not sure. “Having the mark…will be enough…for most to…accept you.”

Her hand rose to her crown, eyes narrowing in what he believed was confusion, “The mark is enough? Why? Because there is no other ape who currently has it?”

He puffed out air from his cheeks and rolled his eyes at that, “Echo is naïve…there has never been…anything other than ape…to wear the mark.”

“So, what?” She shrugged, “I’m the first Echo, that doesn’t change anything.”

“Changes everything!” He snarled, the fact she didn’t understand the importance of her situation frustrated him. “You are not only first Echo…but first outsider to wear it…only meant for apes…of the Eagle Clan...symbol of belonging...stronger than…my word as leader…cannot be undone…once honor has been granted…that is why…I did not want to give it…in the first place.”

There was silence, her body almost going slack, allowing Anaya to push her back a few steps with ease. She looked surprised, as if a tree limb had smacked her during a climb, one she did not see. He had seen that look many times before. Even Anaya, noticing her expression, simply let his hands rest on her arm. She was far enough away now not to be considered a challenge, his mind reeling before quickly righting itself. He knew better, with humans, they were more of a challenge when they were silent than when they spoke. He waited for another turn, for her to lash out when the shock wore off.

“That’s why Soona and Anaya…” she trailed off. “Why give it to me then? You didn’t want to, and it’s not as if I was aware of what it meant.”

Still, she did not understand! She was important to Anaya and Soona, and whether he liked it or not, she was important to him. She was not an ape and she was not part of his clan, but with her defense of them from the boar, she had earned it. There were witnesses, and Soona had called upon him as a worthy leader to bestow it. He had been unsure when both Soona and Anaya pushed for the honor to be bestowed. It was not as simple as it being against The Law, that would have made his argument easy, it had never been done before! He believed it impossible.

To make it possible, he had practically re-written The Law for her. His first true act as leader; not to present a new birth to the clan, or celebrate a completed bonding of ape and eagle, but to bestow the mark of Eagle Protector on an Echo! The elders passed must have felt great shame- it was completely against ape tradition. He was more ashamed that he was not more true when the time came. He tried, but when Anaya had asked him to vocalize the reason for his refusal, he could not. He was too afraid that to say she was not ape, would hurt her. Ridiculous. She was not, she said it herself just now.

It was his own jumbled spirit that lead to his decision to honor her. He had been terrified for her safety when she had taken his horse and engaged in battle with the boar. He felt helpless, Anaya and Soona too far away to coordinate with, and no trees for him to use to assist her if she needed it. He owed her his life already, but more than that, there was a fire inside of him that screamed out that she was his to protect, and he was hers. It had been a dull sound in the back of his mind since they met, which became louder the more time he spent with her. It had reached deafening heights when he saw her body hit the ground and then go still, blocking out everything else around him as he ran to her.

He had been so angry, and so relieved to see that she was mostly fine. He was more impressed by her display of capability, that he knew that to not honor her would be wrong. It had soothed that fire inside him, to see her wearing his mark, but that same screaming terror returned when he could not wake her later that night. The only thing he had been able to think about while she slept was what would have happened if she had been alone in the same situation. She was so smart, protecting and providing for herself, which was appealing, very admirable in an Echo alone. It was not suitable. She needed someone to take care of her, to provide for her, at least in times when she was sick or injured. She was more than worthy of a capable mate to live out her days with. Someone should take care of her.

“Noa!” She snapped, pulling him from his thoughts. He was no closer to understanding the right thing to say as she looked at him. Her eyes were full of hurt and betrayal, her body looking as if it was on the verge of collapse. “Answer me. Tell me why!”

“Sh-Shelter is not…home.” He began, carefully. He did not want to be at odds with her, and he did not want to hurt her. He needed her to understand, to know that what he did, he did with good intentions. “Echo would be…difficult to accept…apes do not trust…Echo for…good reason…but if Echo arrived…wearing mark of Eagle clan…mark of honor…then you would be welcomed as any other…clan member would.”

Her eyes narrowed, “You gave me the mark so they would know I’m trustworthy, that I’m not dangerous?”

“You are…dangerous.” He amended, “Mark…shows that…but to wear it…also shows that… you would…one day welcome…a place not only…amongst the three of us…but amongst the clan…a bond…belonging…a home.”

“I would never join your clan,” she spat quickly. She found her strength again, his careful wording seeming to cause that other turn he had been concerned about. She swatted Anaya’s hand away as he attempted to pull her back once more. “Stop touching me Anaya! What do you think I’m going to do to Noa?”

“Sorry,” Anaya grunted. “Not afraid…of what…you will do.”

Her brow raised at that turning from Anaya to him, “Really? Does that mean I should be afraid of what you will do, Noa?”

��Petty human,” he muttered, his instincts flaring once more at her obvious aggression.

“What was that?” She mocked, “I couldn’t hear you over your own pride!”

He was done holding back, she certainly was not. What good had it done him anyway? The more he tried to reason with her, the more she gnashed her teeth. Might as well be the brutish ape she was accusing him of being. He raised himself to his full height, pushing back from the tree and bridging the small distance Anaya had managed to put between them, baring his canines as he roared, “You are ungrateful…selfish…only care for yourself!”

She pushed her shoulders back, stepping forward to be toe to toe with him, not afraid to look him directly in the eye as she screamed back, “Ungrateful? Selfish? Are you sure that’s not you? I don’t care? You forget, I taught you how to read!”

She had him there, but something was wrong with his mind. He could not concede, he needed to win now. “Better off…thanks to apes…would not leave…your hole in the ground…without us!”

“Better off? Better off! I was just fine before you came into my life!” Her eyes were red, but there were no tears, not yet, and he had to wonder if Echo’s cried when they were angry too. “Can you say the same?”

“Yes!” He answered, without really thinking about it. “If Echo was not here…would make life…much easier!”

“If Echo was not here, you would be dead!” Her voice cracked as she screamed that final word.

There was silence for a few racing heartbeats. She seemed to be panting, and it was echoing in the forest around them. No, that was his own breaths. He was panting just as hard as she was, anger physically rolling off of them both. She would not bend, and he would not bend. He felt the fingers of his left hand twitch, something in him whispering that he should make her bend. His canines were pushed further into his gums then, he ground them in harshly, attempting to force that thought from his mind.

What she said was true, and that brought him pleasure as much as it brought him frustration. Those two emotions were mingling his thoughts together, and her scent-…it was different today. Past the bitter and sour smell of her anger, there was something else. It was the same smell as before. The one that made him want to get closer to her, made him lose the ability to speak, but this time it was…more. It was something he wanted to investigate, to understand. Where was it coming from? How much closer would he need to be to find it? She was practically on top of him now, and still he felt too…

Too close. He was too close.

He was breaking an unspoken promise right now, and if she were not so angry she would know that too. Angry…she was too angry. He was too jumbled to think clearly, and her scent was too enticing. He needed to get her away somehow. He would not touch her, fearing that would only make things worse between them. He could only speak a half truth now, hoping to push her away using his words like he had before.

“No longer…in danger,” he huffed. “Do not…need Echo…to be here…anymore.”

“Fine!” She growled, turning abruptly away from him, “Then I won’t be here! You don’t need anything from me, and I don’t need anything from you!”

“Noa…Echo please…stop.” Anaya pleaded, following alongside her, “Both are…untrue…bad words…from bad feelings…friends do not…mean it.”

She stopped, turning abruptly to Anaya, eyes searching for something in his features. Her brows furrowed and her face crumpled, “I wish I could believe that.”

Anaya visibly shrunk, releasing sorrowful hoots, looking helplessly between their Echo and him. He snorted through his nose, unwilling to back down. She was wrong. He was wrong too, but he believed he had more than earned her trust. She obviously did not trust either of them as much as she said she did. If she did, she would have agreed to go to the village. She turned then, eyeing him up and down before raising a shaking hand to her head.

Shaking? When did that start?

She removed his gift, hair sticking up in places as she gently pulled it away. She stared at it, thumb grazing over the eagle mark. He saw the sadness reflected in her gaze, before she tossed it at his feet. It landed in front of him with a dull thud, mocking him as a dirt cloud swirled up around it. He felt the anger and desire to win melt away from him, eyes seeking hers out as his jaw went slack. Something in his chest physically hurt now, feeling as if he was back in that burning tower, plummeting to the ground and unable to do anything to stop it.

“Echo…?” Anaya questioned, hesitating as he watched her. She turned to his Sunset brother, mournful smile obvious as she reached for his neck and brought her head forward to meet his. He heard her whisper something to Anaya, but could not tell what it was. As she pulled away, Anaya’s hand hovered over her arm, but he chose at the last second not to touch her. Anaya turned to him then, begging, “Noa…fix…please.”

He reached down to pick up the crown, straightening up and locking gazes with her once more. She was watching him, her anger seeming to have completely vanished. With his own mysteriously missing, all that was left now was regret and shame. He did not know what to say, how to stop this, or how to fix it. She visibly swallowed, tears clear in her eyes, “I don’t need it. I don’t belong to…your clan.”

He could not argue with her. Her words were true, but there was a strange ache in his chest that told him those were not the words she wished to say. Instead, he nodded. He thought he heard a high pitched noise, like a whimper from her, but it was so faint it could have been his imagination. He opened his mouth, but found words had deserted him again. They had fled to her, as she hummed, “It was nice while it lasted…goodbye, Noa.”

The words caused him to feel cold, an awful realization dawning on him. Did she mean forever? She turned and began to walk away. Was she leaving for good? He had to know! He called after her, first using the term Echo, but when she did not react, he called her name. Still, she did not stop.

He called her name again, “Stop…come back!”

He took several large steps to try to bridge the space between them, when she suddenly became a blur of movement. She had crouched to the ground, straightening up and spinning around at the same time, before he felt an intense pain in his jaw. His left hand came up to clutch his muzzle, hearing Anaya gasp and screech, jumping back a few paces.

He looked down, finding a stone at his feet. His movements were sluggish now, head turning up to see her arm raised, another matching stone resting in her palm. It was poised to be thrown. The surprise was so intense he could not find it within himself to react. She on the other hand, was still shaking, shifting from foot to foot, arm still raised. It shook too. Her breathing was shallow as she said, “I’m leaving. You can’t stop me, so don’t try to.”

He nodded again, huffing several times through his nose while backing away from her. Anaya shuffled over to stand next to him, looking just as shocked as he felt. Her shaking became less intense, but did not stop. She finally lowered her arm, eyes darting to the stone in her hand before shifting to the one on the ground. She looked distraught as she stared at it. Did she not know she had thrown it at him? Had she acted out of instinct?

One thing was for certain, she was leaving. She had dropped the rock in her hand and taken off in a full sprint before he could blink. She was soon out of their line of sight, and that seemed to finally shake Anaya out of his silence. He looked to Noa, confused and upset. He screeched, slamming his fists on the ground, before turning and racing back up the hill on all fours. He called out, much louder than he had heard him screech before, “Soona!…Soona!”

No matter how many seasons passed, he would be able to recognize that sound. By the way he was calling her name, by the tone of his voice, he knew that it would not lead to good things. He chased after Anaya, yelling, “Anaya…no…Anaya…stop!”

“Soona!” He screeched louder, creating even more distance between them as he ran. Anaya was still faster than him. He would never be able to catch him as he continued to call, “Soona…Soona…Echo gone!”

He was definitely in trouble.

…

Soona was screeching at him before he could even get a word in. Not for the first time, he cursed Anaya’s natural ability to run fast and speak faster when he wanted to.

“Why would you…say that…to her?” Soona asked, throwing an old piece of nesting at him.

He had brought them into the eagle tower, not wanting Anaya to panic half the village, or worse, alert the elders to her absence. Apes never needed privacy, but at the moment, he could not face any other after what he had done. He hung his head, whispering, “I do not…know…thought I could…convince her…she is usually…not like that.”

“Why was she?” Soona wondered, sitting down next to him, her own annoyance subdued. “I have…never seen her…angry…or upset.”

“Noa…knows.” Anaya accused, sitting away from him, crouched on the floor with his arms around his knees. The stance was a familiar one of mourning, and somehow this hit him harder than the Echo’s rock. Anaya refused to even look in his direction as he added, “Noa knows…about Echo…and apes…something not good.”

Soona turned her head, raising her brows, “Noa…?”

“Anaya…speaks true,” he said. Whether she returned or not, he decided that for the sake of understanding what went wrong, he would need to reveal her story. “We are not…the first apes…she has met.”

Soona was quiet next to him, but Anaya turned abruptly to face him. He still looked upset, but pushed himself to his feet, moving closer to Noa before asking, “Was…a pet?”

He was surprised by Anaya’s words, huffing, “How…do you know?”

“Guess,” Anaya said. “You are not…the only one…who speaks with her.”

He hesitated now, the statement catching him off guard. He knew that Anaya was close with her, but the moments he had shared with her, he wondered if she had shared similar moments with Anaya. When? When would they have had the opportunity? He recalled Anaya returning his arm band, not thinking anything of it when he mentioned finding their Echo by the water. He obviously did not know the whole story, but she must have trusted him with some of it, for Anaya to know the Echo’s meaning of that word.

Soona nudged him then, his original thoughts returning. “She told me…the night…after the boar attack…felt like a secret…so I did not speak of it after…she agreed that it was best…not to.”

“But you decided first,” Anaya grunted.

He felt his own brows furrow, “What…does that…matter?”

Anaya huffed, turning away, “Echo does not…like decisions being made…for her…yet you do…all the time.”

“I am…Master of Birds…need to decide things…sometimes.” He defended.

Soona shoved his shoulder, taking him off guard, “Still…dumb male…she is not…part of the clan…yet…you cannot…decide things for her…honor means…nothing.”

“Noa dumb,” Anaya agreed. “Echo…did not like…surprise…did not want to…be taken to village…Anaya said…so too.”

“I thought,” he defended. “If she did not…have time to…think about it…could see how…peaceful apes are…she would...be okay.”

“She met…apes before.” Soona asked, “That were not…peaceful…like…Proximus?”

He shuffled, arms folding around his own knees as he confessed, “I think…worse.”

#planet of the apes #pota #kingdom of the planet of the apes #kotpota #noa #noa x reader #noa pota #fanfiction #kotpota noa #noa kotpota #noa x human reader #kotpota anaya #anaya pota #kotpota soona #soona pota #soona #anaya #Slippery Slope Series

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badasgirlfriend · 1 year ago

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Love On The Down Low | Bada Lee Social Media AU

pairings: bada lee x zhong lei

prev - masterlist - next

a/n: sorry for not updating i was going through some shit but im back and i def missed these two, hope u enjoy it😈

tw: suicidal thoughts pls dont read it if you are triggered by it

taglist: { @1luvkarina , @hallotherenicetomeetyou @fillthwvoid , @kdacase @prilux @jjlovesbada @waveartistry , @dkluvs , @pinksults , @tikitsune , @b1ackbunny , @adaiasafira, @froufrousnowman , @99ycs, @badaslali , @italiekim , @saturnushasmyback , @heedoya @fairiechuu @itsbokutosjuicyass , @tnu-ree @jesuschrist2006 , @ssivinee , @downbadforbada , @starryelling , @pupbistro }

Lei slid her phone into her bag and watched from afar as Bada sat on a nearby bench. Her face was hidden behind her signature bucket hat, the brim casting a shadow over her features.

The chinese girl let out a sigh as she thought how late it is for Bada to be outside, especially in a place she doesn't know. It had been several days since she had last seen the older girl, and she was beginning to worry.

She knew that Bada was going through a tough time, but she was trying her best to be understanding and supportive. She can't do much when Bada had been pushing her away, making it difficult for Lei to help her.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling overwhelmed. She never asked to be a babysitter, but she had somehow ended up as one.

"I don't know how much longer I can do this" she sighed. "God, give me a sign, should I keep this up?"

"Is she crazy?"

"I think so"

Lei lowered her head, meeting the gazes of two kids. They were probably no more than 14 years old, and yet they stared at her with a mixture of confusion

"What are you staring at?" she yelled "Don't you have better things to do?"

"Don't you have better things to do than talk to no one?" the young girl mocked.

"Babe, stop it before she cries." the boy next to her said, giggling. Lei watched him closely, he seemed familiar

"Aren't you two supposed to be sleeping right now? It's past your bedtime," Lei said with a mischievous grin.

"Alright, stop grandma-" one of the kids shot back, rolling their eyes.

Lei smiled as she recognized the boy. "Aren't you Felix's cousin?"

She glanced over at the boy, now smirking when she recognized him, but her smirk deepened when she saw his smile disappear "Aren't you Felix's cousin?"

He grabbed his girlfriend's hand and pulled her away, a mixture of embarrassment and haste in his face

Lei laughed, amused by the couple's reaction "I'll be having a word with him" she said, watching the couple disappear into the distance.

Sighing, she looked at the park. Bada was still there, alone. She didn't want to go up to her, but she knew she had to. This was it, she thought to herself. It was going to be now or never.

As she took those first few steps towards Bada, she already felt her mind spinning with the possibilities.

Her heart pounded in her ears, each thudding beat like a hammer against her chest. Her hands trembled slightly, as if they might fail her at any moment.

It's not that deep...

She drew closer, still unable to see Bada's face. The older girl had hidden her face with her hands.

Bada wasn't okay.

Even an outsider could see it. Her days felt like a prison, with no escape in sight. The scandal, the comments, the constant hate. It was getting to her. The pressure was building and building, and Bada felt like she was suffocating.

This whole thing was funny, really. Why were her fans so quick to turn against her? Without a shred of proof, they were willing to throw her under the bus and bury her, just because a random girl she didn't know said so.

Just one sentence. One. And it destroyed everything.

This was her dream, and now it was being stolen away. She had made it this far, and the dream was within her grasp. But it was out of her reach now, stolen away by an allegation that could not be proven.

She could feel the sleeves of her hoodie being soaked by the tears that flowed down her cheeks. She didn't care. She needed to let it all out, and if a few tears ruined her hoodie in the process, so be it. Another cry rose up from her, all of her emotions bottled up and finally being released. It was too much, but it felt like such a relief at the same time.

It was scary because the thought of ending it all wasn't leaving her mind and it was sounding good. Everyone would be happy and relieved, even she would be in peave

She wouldn't be anyones bother, many people would be happy. After all she's doing them a favor and listening to them

She knew her members were right, she wasn't the Bada she used to be. The old her wasn't rude to strangers, didn't snap at everyone around her. Heck, she would never tell a gorgeous girl to leave her alone.

Not the time Bada…...

She took a deep breath and rubbed her hands across her face. She wiped away her tears, but her eyes remained swollen and red. Suddenly, she heard the snap of a twig behind her. She froze

What if it's dispatch…?

So many things were running through her mind, all at once. And for the first time, Bada felt a sense of relief as she heard her voice.

"Bada, are you okay?"

"Im fine" Her mind was a mess, and she was far from okay.

She didn't need to look up to know where she was. The warmth next to her told her all she needed to know.

"From afar away, you looked like a dealer " she chuckled, leaning back as her eyes rested on Bada's figure. "-or like you're having a mental breakdown. So... I'm going with the latter. Are you okay, Bada?"

"Do I look okay, Zhong?"

Bada finally turned to face Lei, and there was a slight hint of annoyance on her face. She wasn't too fond of the girl, that much was obvious. She also hated how kind and comforting she was, despite their rocky start.

Bada loathed how her voice sent shivers down her spine at every word and how she looked so effortlessly beautiful without even trying.

Lei bit her lip as if deep in thought, her eyes never leaving Bada's. The cold wind blew through Bada's hair, making it blow in unexpected directions. She was unable to look away. She studied the girl next to her, she knew she was crying. It doesn't take a genius to get that

But fuck did she look beautiful

"Hmm." Lei looked lower, taking in Bada's hidden face under her hat. "Red eyes, that means the dealer part is true."

Bada scoffed and turned her head away from Lei, trying to hide her small smile.

"I needed fresh air"

"Right, you needed fresh air" Lei nodded. "I understand, I'd feel the same if I was locked up ignoring everyone."

Bada shook her head, as if amused by her own actions. "Sorry about that."

"I know it's hard to live with a stranger, especially in this situation, I'm not saying we have to be best friends, but I meant it when I said earlier that you can always come to me for anything."

Bada stayed silent, not responding to her, so Lei continued "You don't need to keep everything inside you I know what it feels like for everyone to suddenly hate you, and to feel like no one understands you-"

"You don't understand." Bada cut her off harshly

Lei sighed, a hint of annoyance filling her voice. "Believe me, I do. I was also a trainee once, and I have an idol brother. I know everything."

"I'm fine really" Bada lied "Sometimes it gets too much that's all"

Lei nodded, she wasn't being entirely honest but it's a start "That's understandable"

A silence fell between them, and both girls just stared at the swings in front of them. They didn't speak, just listened to the sounds of the wind blowing through the park. It wasn't an awkward silence, but Bada still couldn't stand it. She couldn't stand being alone with her thoughts, so she decided to speak up again.

"What's up with you hating Hann?" Bada taunted with a smirk on her lips

Lei's face was caught off guard by the sudden question. How did she know that "W-what?"

"You said it's not that good" Bada repeated. "Now I know not everyone has good taste, but I'm curious. What did you mean by that?"

Lei rolled her eyes again, her tone turning haughty. "Really, Bada? Implying that I don't have good taste?"

"Hey just saying"

"Wait, how do you know about that?" Lei's face twisted into a smirk as she flicked Baka's hat. Bada scowled pushing her hand away

"Are you stalking me on twitter?"

Bada shook her head, too quickly for her liking "No I wasn't stalking you. Soojin just sent me your twitter account when she told me I was gonna live with you so I saw that tweet on accident."

"Sure," Lei replied in a teasing tone, a small smile now lighting up her face. "Follow me next time, no need to stalk me in secret."

"Don't change the topic" Bada chided her, now turning fully towards Lei.

"I was joking when I said Hann isn't good. It's actually one of my favorite songs" Lei said as she gathered her knees and put her chin on her knees.

"It was just to piss off my best friend" she added with a grin

"Hanni right? The one with Yeeun's left toe username" fuck Bada for giving herself this easy, now she really sounds like a stalker "Yeeun loved her by the way"

"If I tell Hanni about this, she'll pass out." Lei laughed softly before adding "She's a huge fan of your group."

Bada smiled, the first genuine one that Lei has ever seen. "Well, I'll make sure she gets a signed album from all of us." Bada's smile quickly disappeared "If I ever go back" her tone suddenly growing cold like a winter storm.

"You produce almost all of your group's songs right?" Lei leaned closer, their shoulders now almost touching.

Bada stared at her for a moment, confused she nodded. Lei smiled, reaching out her hand.

"Come on, let's go somewhere." She continued, shaking the plastic burger king bag in front of Bada.

"I know a place you'll like. Plus we can share this burger" she said with a wink.

"I'm not sure-" Bada started, her tone unsure as she stared at Lei's hand.

Lei sighed in exasperation. "Come on, I'm not asking you anymore."

Bada yelped as she was quickly dragged away, her hands numb in the bitter cold. Lea's hands were soft and warm, the contrast almost too much to handle.

Nonetheless she followed the shorter girl

Bada was surprised when Lei took her to a studio, a home recording studio to be more precise.

She was left speechless at how big and well-equipped it was. She knew that Lei loved to sing, but she didn't know that she was this serious about it.

She touched the buttons of the monitor in awe, her awe quickly turning to excitement. "This is amazing, you make songs?"

"Yes" Lei nodded, motioning for Bada to sit. "And sometimes I sell them depends if I like the artist"

She just hoped that Bada would not notice the fake smile on her face. After all, what happened during her training days left her with so much trauma, but the love for music was something she could never lose.

Yes, she was scared to perform in front of other people, and for other reasons, which was why she initially began selling her songs. But she still wanted her songs to be heard, not by her though.

"You sell your songs?" Bada's eyes widened as she sat down next to Lei. She was filled with curiosity now. "What songs have you made? And who did you sell them to?"

"No" Lei replied, her tone turning playful

"Come on" Bada nudged her, pointing at the computer in front of them. "Show me" she repeated.

Lei laughed and gave in, turning towards her console to open up the files in front of them. Bada saw another folder with the name 'Lei's private songs' but didn't mention it

With one click a folder full with songs opened. Bada leaned in licking her lips as she stared at the screen. She knew most of these songs, but what surprised her they were all western artists songs, but one song caught her off guard

Bada turned to Lei quickly, her face filled with surprise. "Wait dude, you wrote 'Never Felt So Alone'?"

Lei turned towards her, looking at Bada's face before replying, her voice filled with a hint of nervousness.

"Yes" she said. "Did you like it"

"You listened to it?" Bai asked. Her voice sounded hopeful, as if waiting for a good response.

"Did you like it?"

"I had it on repeat when it came out," Bada admitted, making Lei smile.

"So you're the famous unknown girl who sings with him?" Bada wondered. "Why didn't Labyrinth give you credits?"

"I didn't want to" Lei replied. "I want to stay anonymous."

"Are you crazy?" Bada asked, she looked at Lei as if she grew two heads "Do you know how much people wanna know the girl who sings in that song?"

"I know but I don't care," Lei replied. "I like it like this."

Bada was quiet, and her gaze returned to the computer.

"I noticed you only wrote songs for Western artists" Bada said, as her eyes followed the words on the screen.

"You never wrote kpop songs before?"

"No" She said grabbing the burger she got along with the knife she took before coming upstairs "I only helped Chenle with a few songs but other than that nothing"

She cut the burger in half slowly and Bada only watched her. Something was weird but Bada didn't want to push it, in the end it's not her place

"But I like it like this" Lei said through her teeth. "I give it to them willingly."

"They give me money" she added with a shrug. "We both get something out of it."

Lei held out the half-burger, and Bada accepted. Her eyes remained fixed on the younger girl, as she took a bite from the burger.

"I'm sharing my burger with you – be grateful," Lei said with a smirk, pointing at her

Bada rolled her eyes, her expression turning playful as she let out a small thank you. She looked around the studio, the cozy environment and the familiar layout calming her somewhat.

The walls of the studio were covered in white paint, though the pink LED lights created a vibrant atmosphere that brought the room together. Some old vinyl records and colorful band posters hung on the walls, adding a hint of personality to the space.

In one corner, a cute black leather two-seater sofa sat beneath a small round armchair. Near the sofa there was a whiteboard hung on the wall. It had some polaroids of Lei and her friends taped to and a few written notes that Bada assumed were from her friends

The recording booth was an added bonus that made the studio even better. Although she didn't mind working in studios without a booth, it definitely improved the songs in the long run.

In another corner, there was a keyboard piano and two guitars on display.

"When Chenle debuted and got his first wage, he bought me that brown guitar" Lei said, catching Bada's fully attention

"I remember telling him to spend his money on things he needed, but he was so stubborn, he still is" Lei continued, both of them laughing.

She sighed at the memory of young Chenle giving her the guitar, a conflicting mix of happiness and sadness flowing through her.

It was a happy yet sad memory for her. He was so happy that day she vividly remembered him saying 'I made it because of you'

She never told anyone she cried a week because of that

"He's a really nice man" Bada said softly, tossing the wrapper in the trash.

"When Soojin first introduced him to us" she went on "I expected him to be awkward and nervous."

"But man was he hyped" she added with a grin.

Lei laughed in response, that sounds like her brother.

"Honestly, I don't know what goes through his mind." Lei grabbed a notebook and pen, opening the first pages to check if she wrote something on it.

Finding nothing, she turned towards the idol and handed it to her

"What's this?" Bada asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at the blue notebook. "You want an autograph"

Lei scoffed at the idea, shaking her head. "You wish."

Bada smirked back, turning towards the notebook. "Oh no need to deny it." She began writing something, then signing it. She tore the page and gave it to Lei.

"Yah, to my number one fan?" Lei exclaimed hitting her shoulder lightly "Im not your fan"

Bada's smirk never left her face, she was enjoying this "You act like one"

"I gave you this to write songs," Lei huffed, a tone of annoyance in her voice. "Can't even be nice these days."

"Wait." Bada dragged on her words slightly, before repeating what Lei had said in a tone of surprise.

"You gave me this to write songs?" she asked.

A look of confusion filled her face, and she slowly turned towards Lei. "Why?"

"I don't know, you can get inspired and write something," Lei said with a smirk, "you can always use my studio too, I don't mind."

Bada's face lit up with excitement. "Really?" she asked eagerly, her expression turning into a bright smile when the other gitl said yes. "Thank you"

She opened the notebook again and wrote down 'Bada's Lyrics Diary (Australia Version)' in big, bold letters. She began drawing some cute doodles to go along with the title, smiling to herself as the memories came flooding back.

Lei's jaw dropped as she saw that the oreo haired girl started writing already. "You're already writing this fast?" She asked in amazement.

"After all the shit that happened, I definitely had some inspiration" she said with a smile, not looking up

Lei chuckled, coming close to the older girl to see what she was writing. And for the first time in so long, Bada was happy and she had fun. She was quick to judge Lei, cut her some slack, everyone has bad first impressions of someone

Bada was grateful, truly. After two weeks of not being home, of being in a messy state, this would definitely help her feel better. She needed to get back into herself, and making music was definitely the tool to do that.

Today started bad, but it was ending good

And Bada could only thank the girl next to her

#talking with eli #bada lee #bada lee edit #bada lee imagine #bada lee fanfic #bada lee x reader #swf #bada lee x oc #gxg #lee bada x reader #bada lee imagines #bada lee x y/n #bada lee au #bada lee fanfiction #lee bada #lotdl smau #love on the down low smau

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holdmymallowsweet · 3 months ago

Text

What are you doing here? 05

Ominis Gaunt x f!MC Word count: 5491, properly tagged on AO3

Chapter summary: Time heals all wounds, but some things help speed up the process.

a/n: Sorry this took me much longer than I said it would, (I should just stop making promises about when I’ll update this thing) but this is a chapter that I actually really like and feel good about, so I hope you’ll enjoy! And this chapter was beta read by the very sweet and lovely ladyelisabeth from AO3, who did an absolutely amazing job ❤️

Warnings: mentions of nausea and throwing up, no detailed descriptions but I thought I’d mention it.

Chapter 04 || Masterlist || Chapter 06

Chapter 05 - End of the night

Ominis made the remaining few steps to the common room in a daze.

He gave the door the password- it didn’t open. Then he realised he’d said it in Parseltongue. He couldn’t remember the last time his mind had been so addled.

Inside, he made his way past the table where he’d done his homework mere hours earlier, but now it felt like a different lifetime, and a different person. Haphazardly, he ran his hand across the surface- his mess was gone, someone must have cleaned it up. A prefect, probably.

Oh, but if they hadn’t, he would have dragged his fingers through a sea of ink. Would he have cared?

Near the window, someone laughed, someone else joined in, briefly drowning out the calm tunes of the piano. And Ominis stood there, in the middle of it, not willing to believe that he’d made it back into a world where there could be laughter, or music, or anything good at all.

The nausea came back, and he dragged himself off towards the dormitories to spare his housemates the sight of him throwing up.

A few steps up the stairs, then through the corridor and the door to the room he shared with Sebastian.

Sebastian. Where was he?

Ominis opened the trunk at the end of his bed, carelessly throwing out his belongings, until he found it, the wooden box he always kept safe but never opened. Now he did, for the first time in years, with shaking hands. He felt the letters, the pin in the shape of the Gaunt family crest- he’d never wear it but couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it either- and underneath, there it was, the small stuffed animal, the only one he ever had.

Given to him by Aunt Noctua, like all the other things he’d locked inside that box after she’d disappeared. Too afraid that touching them again would be too painful, but it didn’t matter now. He could hardly imagine feeling worse than he already did.

Ominis sat on his bed, clutching the stuffed animal to his chest, feeling the little face, the small beaded eyes. Noctua had told him it was a Kneazle when she first put it into his tiny, eager hands. It had felt so much bigger then. He’d never been sure how much it resembled an actual Kneazle, as he never had the opportunity or the urge to pet a real one, but he’d loved it all the same.

His parents only ever gave their children toys that would challenge their mind, or kept them occupied at least. They saw no value in something that was meant to be loved, to provide comfort. But Noctua did. She was the only one who’d gift him something like this, and he couldn’t ever bring himself to part with it, even after all the happy memories faded.

Ominis squeezed it so tightly he feared he might accidentally dig holes in it with his fingers, and then the tears finally fell. It was too much. Aunt Noctua was gone- yes, he’d known, he’d known, but he never had to face it, not like today.

She’d be gone too. His new almost-friend. Not from this world, but from a future where they would be more than strangers sharing a friend.

And Sebastian-

Ominis let himself fall on his side, face smushed into his pillow, hugging his Kneazle and his knees tightly to his chest.

Sebastian did it because he had to. Because he had to, not because he wanted it- but he had to want it. And it had been too easy. That disturbed him more than anything else.

He didn’t know how long he’d spent curled up on his bed, quietly sobbing, until he had no more tears left. Now he just felt exhausted, like he’d aged a hundred years in a matter of hours.

The door opened slowly but he didn’t bother getting up, there was only one person it could be.

“Are you asleep?” Sebastian asked cautiously.

Ominis considered pretending, just for a moment. “No, I’m not.” His voice sounded hoarse from all the crying, but if Sebastian noticed it, he kept it to himself. At least he didn’t insult him by asking if he was all right- his swollen eyes and blotchy face were probably all the answer Sebastian needed anyway.

“Ah.”

Silence. Should he ask where Sebastian had been, since they split up outside the common room? Did he want to know? He heard Sebastian sit down on his bed.

“Will you tell Anne?” Ominis asked numbly.

He waited several moments, until he was about to repeat the question, assuming Sebastian hadn’t heard him.

“No, I don’t think so,” it finally came from the other bed. “Will you?”

“No. She has enough troubles, I think.”

There was a time when they’d told each other everything.

“Do you think she’s all right?” Sebastian asked after another long pause, and with so much hesitation, Ominis wasn’t sure if he really wanted to hear the answer.

It was obvious they were no longer talking about Anne.

The honest answer was no- she’d only suffered the curse once, and it likely wasn’t as strong as it could have been, given Sebastian’s inexperience. Like his own back then. His father had called it weak, but the screams of his victim suggested otherwise. So no, he did not think she could possibly be all right, but as much as Sebastian should feel the weight of what he’d done, he knew what it was like to live with that guilt.

“Don’t worry too much about her.” Ominis said softly.

Ominis heard the rustling of fabric and thought Sebastian was changing into his nightclothes, but after several long moments realised he must be fidgeting with his bedsheets, or the curtains.

“She wasn’t quite herself, was she? When she left. Quieter.”

“You would know better than me.” It was a lie.

The realisation of it came suddenly, digging into his heart with iron claws. He’d gotten so used to it, her being a constant guest in some corner of his mind, always so close but out of reach, behind the wall he’d put up between them.

And he’d subconsciously tried to make up for it by remembering every single one of her unique little habits and peculiarities, learned to decipher her mood by the subtle way it tinted her voice instead of asking how she was, let her smell tell him where she’d been instead of simply talking to her.

…he could have simply talked to her.

He could have.

Not anymore.

Sebastian’s fidgeting had turned into him nervously tapping against his bedpost. It was starting to wear on Ominis’ already frayed nerves. “Sebastian, she’s better off with the other Hufflepuffs. They won’t ignore it if she’s still in pain.”

“Pain?” Sebastian audibly jolted out of his bed. “In the book, it said the pain only lasts until the curse is lifted. Why would she-“

Something in Ominis snapped.

“You’re unbelievable.” Ominis sat upright, letting go of his stuffed animal, and faced Sebastian with a cold look, which he hoped was very noticeable. “Has it ever occurred to you that I would know better than your bloody book?”

“I… well, it’s not something you ever-”

“Obviously, did you think I’d want to relive the experience over and over again?” Ominis’ hands were shaking. “You thought the book was going to tell you? That someone who writes instructions on how to cast an unforgivable would have compassion for its victims?”

“She’s not a victim, she agreed to it,” Sebastian said quietly.

“Did she know what she agreed to? Truly?” Ominis turned his back to Sebastian and threw himself down on his bed again. Now he regretted not pretending to be asleep when he’d heard his friend come in.

“I… fine, I’ll go- I’ll make sure she’s alright, if she needs anything-“ Sebastian had already half crossed the room before Ominis could reply.

“Don’t. What do you expect her to need from you? If you regret what you’ve done, deal with it on your own. Leave her alone.”

Ominis heard Sebastian shuffling around uncertainly, then the distinct sound of something being kicked- a stack of books, probably- followed by him storming out of the room and slamming the door shut.

Ominis squeezed his eyes shut. He felt the beginnings of another wave of nausea, the shiver from his hands now ran throughout his whole body. He felt so cold, but it wasn’t because of the never ending chill of the dungeons. It didn’t help, though.

It was too similar.

He wrapped his blankets tighter around himself. At least the Hufflepuff common room would be nice and warm. Bright and comforting. Not at all like the scriptorium, perhaps that helped. He hoped it did.

Hopefully she’d find some sleep tonight. He knew he wouldn’t.

He had no sense of time as he laid in bed, not knowing whether he’d rather fall asleep to stop the never ending waves of regret and self-loathing or spare himself the nightmares. The little Kneazle laid somewhere on the floor, where it must have fallen at some point during his argument with Sebastian.

Seconds turned into minutes and then hours.

Sebastian returned eventually, in the middle of the night, wordlessly changing into his pyjamas and going to bed, but the lack of his usual soft snores told Ominis that sleep didn’t come easy to him either.

Ominis drifted in and out of consciousness, though he couldn’t tell if he was ever fully asleep. Sounds and slivers of their conversations came together in his mind to form a dissonant mess, incomprehensible, but they made his airway close up and his chest painfully tight. Then he thought for a moment of true horror that he felt human bones scraping against his fingertips.

He woke up shaking and covered in sweat, barely making it to the bathroom before he finally threw up. Hands clenched tightly at the edges of the sink, sweat soaked strands of his hair sticking against his forehead, he stood there, retching for another few minutes even as his stomach was long empty.

It hadn’t been the first time they’d tortured Muggles for sport, and it wouldn’t be the last. They’d usually wipe their memories clean and throw them out on the street, not knowing what had happened to them, only that it was something unspeakable, something unnatural they couldn’t explain. But that time had been different, that time it had a purpose, to teach him a lesson, to make him understand.

They told Ominis they’d make it stop for them, once he’d manage to use the curse. In his child’s mind, he hadn’t understood what that had meant.

The walk back to his bed seemed to take forever and yet felt too short at the same time. When he finally laid back down, he couldn’t fall asleep again, not that he wanted to.

After an eternity, he heard Sebastian get up. The patter of his sluggish steps on the way to the bathroom. The sounds of running water, the wardrobe opening and closing, clothes rustling and falling to the floor. A familiar symphony signalling the start of yet another school day.

Ominis stayed in bed, clutching the sheets.

Footsteps getting closer to the door, then they paused.

“Ominis…” Sebastian hesitated. “If you still want to get breakfast before classes, you need to get up now.”

Ominis curled up tighter. “I don’t feel well. Would you please let the Professors know?” he said hoarsely.

Uncertain shuffling. “All right. ‘Course I will. Want me to bring you something from the Great Hall?”

“No, thank you, Sebastian.”

“Are you sure? It’s no problem, I have time.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“I’ll check on you between classes.”

“Don’t bother.”

“When I see her, should I say something?”

Ominis flinched. “No.”

“I’ll let her know you’re worried-”

“Please don’t. Please.”

Silence.

“Get well soon, then,” Sebastian said, and while both of them knew fully well that Ominis hadn’t suddenly fallen ill last night, Ominis could tell his friend was happy to go along with the lie. He was probably glad to keep his distance as well, to make it easier to pretend nothing happened, and truly- who could blame him.

The door closed, and for a moment, he felt relieved. It didn’t last. The dread crept back in, all the questions and uncertainties that had wracked his brain all throughout the night. And being completely and utterly sleep deprived didn’t help in sorting them out, so they just sat there, stewing and festering.

How concerned should he be about Sebastian, being so adept at using the dark arts that he could flawlessly cast an unforgivable on his first try? What was he going to find in that spellbook- Ominis had been too out of it to pay it much mind yesterday, but now he wished he’d been able to pay more attention when the two of them talked about it.

How was he ever going to face her again?

If he hadn’t tried to approach her under false pretences- because what else could one call it? She hadn’t known what he’d done, what he was capable of-

But she had. Ominis frowned.

“Sebastian told me a little of what happened when you were young”

Even at that moment, it had stung. That, more than anything else, should have been his choice to tell her. And Sebastian had taken that away from him too.

When? After they’d met in the library, or before?

And how much had Sebastian downplayed and justified Ominis’ actions, if she’d still been willing to follow him into the scriptorium, despite knowing?

Well, she knew now, the full extent of it, in a way that even Sebastian or Anne couldn’t ever comprehend. Ominis groaned, pulling the sheets over his head only to throw them off again, because he had enough trouble breathing already.

Keeping track of time was difficult in the Slytherin dormitories. He only knew that another hour had passed whenever there was a change in the ambient chatter coming through from the common room, signalling the start or end of someone’s free period or the lunch break.

Was she able to keep food down by now?

Did she even go to classes today?

Did Sebastian talk to her after all- and would it be obvious to him that she thought Ominis was the last person who had any right to feel unwell?

The day slipped into its afternoon, and the weight he’d felt all day grew heavier. Sebastian would be back soon enough, and even if he drew the curtains, pretended to be asleep, he’d have to leave his bed for some reason eventually.

Ominis couldn’t do it anymore, he had to go- somewhere else, anywhere else, because he didn’t think he’d survive the night if he kept laying there, trapped in his own mind and barely able to breathe. He forced himself out of bed with a groan. His limbs felt leaden and numb, and his eyes burned from crying and lack of sleep. Treacherous, useless things.

Ominis put a reasonable amount of effort into washing up and making himself look presentable. Not as much as he probably should have, considering he’d spent the last day in a grimy, almost thousand year old dungeon corridor and his sweaty bed, but enough not to gather unwanted attention from passersby.

He sluggishly made his way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts Tower. Walking past chatter and laughter, groups of friends who had a free period and spent the time sharing jokes or lamenting their woes.

Someone told his friends they sent Duncan Hobhouse a howler for making a mess in their dormitory, and any other time it would have made Ominis grin like a madman. More silly little tales for his collection, to add to the ones he’d filed away in his mind, thinking perhaps he might one day share them with her.

What a pointless endeavour.

And she still had Noctua’s letters, but Ominis was no longer sure he wanted them.

He should consider himself lucky if she could ever stand to be in the same room as him again, if they could at least go back to being polite strangers.

Why did it have to turn out so wrong? For a while, it hadn’t been so bad, it even felt like perhaps their jaunt into the scriptorium could bring them all closer together.

She didn’t even mind him being a Parselmouth.

“I wish I could speak to snakes”

“I’d like to see one someday”

Ah, right. He’d known she was curious about snakes, Ashwinders at least, she’d told him in the library. He’d completely forgotten by the time they went to the scriptorium. Why did he remember it only now, when it didn’t matter anymore?

If he’d remembered before, he could have- what, offered to accompany her on her trips around the Highlands, looking for Ashwinders with her?

Ominis ended up at his favourite spot next to the Serpentine Beast window, on the floor. The hall wasn’t as seasonally decorated as most other parts of the castle, but the faint smell of pumpkins and fallen autumn leaves came through every now and then, whenever a lone straggler would open the door leading to the Transfiguration Courtyard.

He’d made it just in time for his favourite part of the day, when the rays of the afternoon sun came streaming through the stained glass window he’d never see, flooding the hall and gently warming his neck. It wouldn’t last, but it gave him some solace, a brief respite. For the first time in hours, though it certainly felt longer, he didn’t feel like he was suffocating. It became hard to keep his eyes open.

He dozed off, unable to fight the exhaustion any longer.

He was woken up again- he didn’t know if it was seconds or minutes later, only that he wished he’d been granted more time, why wasn’t he ever allowed more time? And for the first few seconds after his eyes flew open, he didn’t know why he felt a crushing wave of dread, more powerful than before, until he recognized them.

Her footsteps, drawing closer towards him.

He’d expected something like this. She was entirely too kind, too considerate to ignore him and carry on as if they were strangers, of course she’d do him the courtesy of telling him in person-

That it would be for the best if there never was a second attempt at a study session in the library.

Ominis had known he’d have to face her eventually, but he’d hoped that it would be after he had time to sort out his thoughts, or at least get a few more hours of sleep.

“Hello, Ominis.”

He choked on the trepidation in her voice.

Of course she was nervous, she was about to tell him that she’d like him to keep his distance, that what he and Sebastian had put her through wasn’t what she’d come to Hogwarts for, that his secrets and sins weighed entirely too heavy on her conscience, that she-

“Do you mind if I sit down?”

His voice failed him, he fought the urge to get up and flee, because there was nothing she’d say which he hadn’t already heard her tell him in his mind, over and over again, all night. But he hardly had the right, so he straightened his back and moved his legs out of the way, a silent invitation.

She sat down at his right, not touching him, but closer than she should.

She smelled like Wiggenweld potion again, although Ominis was sure she couldn’t possibly have been outside in her state- she must have tried to use it to alleviate the echoes of pain from the curse, not knowing it wouldn’t help.

“I came to apologise.”

He couldn’t have heard her right.

“I’m truly sorry, Ominis, I mean it. I never wanted to hurt you,” she said softly.

Ominis screwed up his face in disbelief. “Hurt me?”

“... in a way.”

“You were the one who- I should be the one to apologise.” His voice broke.

“What for? You didn’t know it would turn out like this.”

“Of course not, if I did, I’d never-”

“Then what are you apologising for? You were the only one of us who didn’t want to go. I’m the one who talked you into it.”

“But I let you. I should have known better. Sebastian should have known better.”

She huffed, as if she was offended. “Don’t blame Sebastian, please. I’m the one who offered to talk to you, and just between you and me, I think he was slightly offended that it worked.”

‘Now you’ll share? You wouldn’t tell me when I practically begged.’

She was right. Ominis could always tell when she was lying, but she sounded the same as she always did, as if she wasn’t- how could it be that the two of them were talking as if nothing happened?

“How…” his voice broke again. He forced himself to breathe, mustering up the courage to ask what he should have from the start. “How are you feeling?”

She tensed up. “Not well, to be honest. I suppose there’s no point in trying to hide it from you. It’s… I can still feel it. I wanted to go to the Hospital Wing last night, but I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t know if the nurse could tell somehow. I didn’t want Sebastian to get into trouble.��

Ominis had the sudden urge to reach out to her, to hold her hand and tell her it was going to be all right, to tell her- “It’s not real.” He turned his head towards her, to make sure she could see that he was being sincere, in case she was looking at him. “Aunt Noctua explained it to me, she said- she said it was my mind, not understanding why it’s painful even though my body wasn’t damaged, or ill. But it’s not real.”

“Oh.” She sounded so relieved.

“I was hoping it wouldn’t be this difficult for you. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s all right. As long as there’s nothing wrong. Thank you, Ominis. I guess I’ll just have to wait it out, then.”

No, she didn’t have to, he just remembered. “There is something that might help. You could ask Nurse Blainey for a Calming Draught.”

“Do they just hand these out to students?” she asked doubtfully.

“Not usually, unless it’s time for exams. But between the dragon attack and trying to catch up with the rest of us, I doubt anyone would question it if you said you needed some.” Merlin, why didn’t he think of it sooner? He should have told her yesterday. “We could go now if you’d like, I’ll show you-”

“Perhaps later. I don’t think anyone suspected anything during classes, and I wouldn’t want to start rumours. Or cause anyone to worry.”

Anyone?

Ominis frowned. “Has Sebastian asked how you were?”

“Of course he did. I told him it was nothing to worry about.”

“Why?”

She took her time to answer. “Because I didn’t want him to regret it forever.”

“I shouldn’t have told you that. I’m sorry, I…”

“Stop apologising,” she said softly. “And please don’t blame Sebastian, I wouldn’t have left him a choice either way.”

Ominis was confused, only for a moment. Then the fog lifted and his heart broke into a million pieces, as he finally understood. “You decided it would be you. Even before you asked me, you…” He dug his fingers into his knees. “You weren’t asking me to curse Sebastian.”

“Of course,” she answered, matter-of-factly, as if they were discussing an article in the Daily Prophet over breakfast. “I’m the one who got us trapped there in the first place, it was the least I could do.” She groaned, showing the first obvious sign of discomfort since they’d started talking.

Ominis didn’t know what to say, but she seemed to know what went through his mind anyway.

“It’s all right. I think it was for the best, the way we settled it- this way, you could stay out of it, and I think you wouldn’t have forgiven me if I hurt Sebastian, I know how much you care for each other,” she paused, before carrying on, more hesitantly than before, “I wouldn’t blame you if you won’t forgive me anyway.”

“That’s- of course I do, and you don’t need my forgiveness, the two of you didn’t have a choice.”

“I thought one always had a choice.”

Was she grinning? Surely not- no she definitely was, he could hear her trying to stifle a chuckle, probably at his open-mouthed, dumbfounded expression. “... are you trying to pick a fight?”

“Am I?” she asked innocently.

“Could you please be serious?”

“Would that help?” It didn’t come out quite as lighthearted as she probably intended, followed by another groan.

Ominis turned towards her, frowning again. “Let’s go to the Hospital Wing. Please.”

“It’s fine- no really, it is. I can’t go now, I’ll miss flying class.”

It took him a second to register what she’d said, then he was beginning to question her sanity. “... there’s no way you’re going to flying class like this, you must be out of your mind.”

“It’ll be fine, it’s not that bad anymore. I promise.”

“That’s not- why do you even need flying classes? I know you’ve beaten Imelda in one of her trials, you can’t be that inept on a broom.”

She snorted. “Thank you, but I’m not sure that would impress Madam Kogawa. She cares about flying responsibly and safely- so I guess I’ll make her very happy today.”

That wasn’t very reassuring, and he knew she could see it on his face. “I’ll go to the nurse later, if it’s not better by then, I promise.”

“Fine.” He wasn’t entirely convinced, but he wasn’t likely to win this argument either, so he let it go. With a bit of luck, Madam Kogawa would send her to Nurse Blainey as soon as she’d notice the first signs of pain, or at least she’d be attentive enough to catch her if she fell.

A slightly awkward silence settled between them after that.

There was one more thing weighing on his mind, and Ominis hesitated to bring it up, but he didn’t know if or when he’d have the opportunity to ask her about it again. And he wasn’t sure how much time they had left until her class was starting, probably not much if it wasn’t enough to make it to the hospital wing for a potion. “May I ask you one more thing?”

“Of course. Anything.”

“Why did you want to learn the Cruciatus curse?”

“Ah, that.” She shifted, stretching her legs, knocking their knees together for a moment. “I didn’t. Not really.”

“Then why…?”

She sighed. “I suppose I wanted Sebastian to know that I don’t think less of him for knowing the curse, but in a way that wouldn’t make it harder for him to use it on me. I admit it wasn’t very well thought out.”

“So you won’t ever use it?”

“Of course not, I can’t imagine ever putting someone else through that, now that I know how it feels.”

Ominis knew she hadn’t said it to hurt him, but it still felt like a knife twisting in his chest. He turned away from her. No need to make her feel worse with the stricken expression he couldn’t keep off his face, and wasn’t it about time she left, if that’s how she felt?

“Ominis, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant now- in the scriptorium, I would have done anything to make it stop.”

“Not anything.”

“Yes, anything. I would have cursed you, Sebastian or anyone else, I couldn’t have gone through it again. Believe me.”

He did. And suddenly, the weight was gone, the wall was gone. He drew a shaky breath, and tears welled up in his eyes again.

“Uhm, may I ask you something as well?” she asked quietly.

Ominis cleared his throat, but his voice still came out strained. “Yes, of course.”

She leaned over, pressing their knees together, making his breath hitch in his throat.

“Would it be possible for us to still be friends?”

Merlin, he should have just said yes, but at that moment he forgot words existed. When he remembered, after what seemed like an eternity, he said the first thing that came to mind. “Why?”

“Why?” she laughed nervously. “That’s an intriguing question. Would it be enough if I said ‘because I want to’?”

“You do?”

“Of course. Ominis, I never meant to come between you and Sebastian, I’d never want to do anything to hurt your friendship, I just… I was hoping I could be a part of it.”

“Of course you can.” The words came out without him even thinking about it, as natural as breathing. “I would like that. I’m sure Sebastian would too.”

And then he felt her hand on his own, still on his knees. It was so much smaller than he’d ever expected, so warm, sending a tingling sensation through his arm that reminded him of the first time he held his wand.

“Thank you.” She used him as leverage, pressing her hand into his own as she pushed herself off the floor. And then she took it away, and he had the mad urge to reach out and hold on to her.

“Well, I better get going or Madam Kogawa is going to make me polish all the broom handles for being late. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ominis.”

“Yes,” he replied, still in a trance, “yes, you will.”

He stayed until the last rays of the afternoon sun stopped warming his back, trying to hold on to the something that she left behind, that made the air easier to breathe and his body feel wonderfully light.

Perhaps he was secretly hoping she’d come back after flying class, but even though she didn’t, he wasn’t disappointed. He’d meet her in class the next morning, and then he could ask her where she’d been, or if she was feeling better, and he wouldn’t have to dread the answer.

His feet carried him the way back to the Slytherin common room, past the Great Hall and the ruckus of several dozen Hogwarts students enjoying their dinner. That’s probably where she was. He’d find the strength to join them tomorrow morning, for now all he wanted was his comfortable bed- which he didn’t dread anymore either.

“Ominis! There you are.” Sebastian jumped to his feet as soon as Ominis opened the door, knocking over his chair and picking it up under a softly muttered string of curses.

Ominis couldn’t help but smile. “Why, did you miss me?” He tried to give the question a healthy dose of sarcasm, but the relief in Sebastian’s voice made him fail utterly.

“I was worried, you moonmind.” Sebastian huffed indignantly. “So are you feeling better now? Where were you?”

Ominis crossed the distance to his bed, using the seconds it afforded him to think of how to answer. “I went on a walk, to clear my head.”

Which wasn’t entirely untrue.

“And yes, I am feeling much better.”

Which was entirely the truth.

He sat down on his bed- actually, he sat down on a small stuffed Kneazle, which had somehow found its way back onto his bed- and noticed the wonderful, mouthwatering smell of biscuits faintly wafting through the air. He leaned over to find them sitting in a tin on his bedside table.

They were the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.

“You’re getting crumbs all over your bed.”

“I truly don’t care,” Ominis replied, with as much dignity as he could through a mouth full of biscuits. “...and thank you,” he added, once he swallowed.

“I would have brought you an apple tart, but my robes aren’t hungry today.”

Ominis snorted. “I almost forgot about that.”

“You might have, but I still have a tart shaped stain here that never quite came out.”

Ominis rather doubted that, given the efficiency and diligence of the Hogwarts house elves, but he decided not to retort by way of flinging a biscuit Sebastian’s way, tempting though it was.

“So,” Sebastian started, more subdued than before, “do you need anything else?”

“No,” Ominis replied, letting himself fall back, kicking his shoes off and barely managing to keep his eyes open. “...just want to sleep.”

“At least brush your teeth.”

Ominis had his pyjamas thrown at him, managed to put them on somehow, and dragged himself off to the bathroom.

Exhaustion took him soon after, and the nightmares came again- they would for a long while. But when he woke that night, he felt the ghost of her touch lingering on his hand, lulling him back to sleep.

a/n: This is finally the end of the pre-friendship part of this fic, next up we’ll see how the two of them navigate their first awkward days of new friendship, and if I can manage, we’ll have a nice Halloween themed chapter right before Halloween. At some point I genuinely thought I’d start this a/n with “sorry this is a short one” but it somehow ended up being over 5k words again, whoops. I hope you like the longer chapters, and maybe this makes up for the long wait. It’s been so long since this fic was anything but angsty, and I think this is the first time since chapter one that I’ve written any significant amount of dialogue for MC (that wasn’t taken straight from the game). I was almost a bit scared I’d forgotten how to write her, but starting a new playthrough and hearing all the early game dialogue again helped. Thank you so much for reading, and please let me know what you think!

#hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy mc #ominis x mc #ominis gaunt x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fandom #mallow tries to write #WAYDH

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thephooka · 7 months ago

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youtube

Happy Webcomic Day! My webcomic White Noise is a labor of love--according to Procreate, this page took me 15.5 hours to complete.* Here's a look into that process!

Some other notes:

The thumbnails are done on graph paper and I script while I do them--there is no separate written script for White Noise. I usually spent a couple hours on weekends as needed thumbnailing, sometimes at a coffee shop or at home listening to records.

I then set up the file in Photoshop, so I can lay in the text and use the template I have with bleeds already set up. The text is rasterized and I shuttle the file over to my iPad via Airdrop.

The bulk of the actual work is done in Procreate, which records timelapses that I sometimes share to my Patreon. I usually spend a couple hours most nights after my day job or on the bus commuting doing this.

Once everything art-wise is done, I shuttle the file back over to my desktop to re-set in the text, add a stroke around the speech bubbles (Procreate doesn't have that took fsr) and do the resizing/exporting for web.

On Sunday mornings I get up, queue the page and write the page descriptions. I don't spend any time on the page descriptions outside of that.

Also, this process goes for the whole first arc of White Noise. I'm done with that arc (which means you can binge the whole thing I'm js!!) and am experimenting with some different methods these days, but my workflow is still generally the same.

*Some more talk about the labor (and burnout) involved below the cut:

This particular page (and most of the pages I did in 2023) took a lot longer than normal because I was heading into a burnout period that I'm still lowkey in/recovering from. It's obvious to me now in retrospect watching the timelapse here and seeing how much noodling I'm doing and how much I'm struggling with the process, but at the time I was just very frustrated generally. When I'm not burned tf out pages take maybe 10 hours max.

2023 was a pretty stressful year--lots of big life changes, uncertainty, pet death, health issues--so it's no wonder it propelled me into burnout, but it just goes to show that even the slowest and steadiest pace is not sustainable forever. I've been doing one page a week following this general process for over a decade! And I stuck to that pace because I knew it was one I could maintain. But even so, by the end of this arc I found myself working more and more slowly, not really looking forward to the work, feeling anxious about being behind, unhappy with the finished work, and extremely annoyed with myself for not being able to give it my all right there at the finish line.

I did stop for a while after the epilogue and took a more or less complete break from drawing for about a month--the longest I have EVER gone without drawing, much less working on White Noise--which did help, but these days my ability to work is...inconsistent. I should probably take another total break, but I'm reluctant. What if my passion never comes back? What if people forget about WN? It's already pretty obscure, and with the general social media collapse, it's harder than ever to get people to read my work. Now that I've left Hiveworks, WN doesn't even get the benefit of being linked to other comics (although objectively very, very few readers actually got referred to my comic that way.) And frankly, I'm also just too proud to go too long without comic updates. I've always told myself, I might not be the best artist or the fastest worker or make a popular comic, but I'm consistent. Difficult to let that go.

This is all to say that webcomics are hard. We do them because we love them, we have stories to tell, we are seized with the human compulsion to create. We spend hours of our time, almost always on top of the paying work that allows us to eat, to make something that we then give away for free. It has consequences on us that the reader doesn't often see, no matter how careful we are about it. If you ask me, webcomics deserve to be valued more.

Happy Webcomic Day! Read webcomics!

#webcomics #comics #webcomicday #webcomic day #web comix #indie comics #wn comic #white noise #behind the scenes #art process #comic making #sorry about the vertical video Tumblr would not just let me upload the video file into the post #Youtube

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lvrrgirlll · 9 days ago

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Tolerate It (series)

Synopsis: Life as Patrick Zweig’s controversially young girlfriend should have been a dream, but it was anything but. He was a broken man. You were a girl who knew all too well. Who’s to say whether you’ve got it wrong now…

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Pairing: Patrick Zweig x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, finger sucking, switch!patrick and switch!reader, maybe cock warming (?), tiny bit of angst, half proofread

Notes: Haven’t updated in forever but I swear this will all come together pls stick with me! Also sorry if the time jumps are confusing lol, I’m trying something…

Previous part

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Part 4: The downtown lights

2020:

After that night you didn’t hear from Patrick again. You had honestly expected him to call or text, but he didn’t. It was radio silent. And at first you were glad for that. Of course, those feelings changed. As it sunk in how lonely you were…how lonely you had been even during your relationship, what with not telling anyone for fear of judgment or upsetting him, not to mention the fact that he clearly saw you as just some doting kid. It was embarrassing looking back. And it was embarrassing now that you missed him.

Some nights were harder than others. When you’d come back from parties with your friends, still drunk, you’d always think just how bad would it actually be if you texted him? You never did, obviously. But you wanted to, and that was enough.

2025:

“And Patrick Zweig has found his way back into the circuit, who would’ve thought, with a pretty good chance of winning this thing. What do you think?” The TV chattered away in the background, your ears perking up at the name. Patrick Zweig. You hadn’t thought of him in ages. So he made his way back into the game…that was surprising. Last you saw him, he was pathetic; a loser; a cheater. But there he was, on your hotel’s TV, living his dream. Go figure.

You had eventually gotten over him, mourning whatever you believed you had dreamt was there that he clearly did not feel, and moving on with your life. You dated others here and there, but nothing exactly lasted, so here you found yourself 23 and single. The world was your oyster. You had finished your degree and got a decent job working in marketing for a pretty known company. You weren’t very high in the ranks, but you had time to move on up. They had sent you and a few coworkers out to LA for a client meeting, which is how you found yourself sat in the hotel bar sipping a cosmopolitan while the TV blabbered on about your famous ex. In a strange way, you were sort of glad to see he had gotten back on his feet. Maybe he actually took your advice. Probably not, though. You doubted he thought twice about you after the breakup. How wrong you were…

2020:

Patrick had spent every day since that night trying to take your advice and get himself together. At first, he wallowed for a bit, wondering if you were naive enough to take him back after a simple apology. After the way you yelled at him, though, he doubted it. Eventually, he actually called his parents from his car, in Atlanta for a match.

“Patrick?” His mother questioned him through the phone.

“Hey Mom, um, h-how are you and Dad doing,” Patrick offered awkwardly. He was making an effort. There was a lingering silence on the other end of the phone. Patrick hadn’t spoken to either of his parents in at least a year, but probably longer. The last time they spoke all they really exchanged was a brief ‘I hope you’re well’ and then both parties carried on with their separate lives.

“We’re fine. Is something wrong?” Her speech was cold. She sounded confused and somewhat uncomfortable.

“Well, uh…no. Not really. I, uh…I just…” it was hard for him to be vulnerable, especially with his parents. He was lucky his mom had picked up and not his dad, as his dad was always harsher than his mom. “Listen, Mom, I know it’s a lot to ask, but uh…could I maybe borrow some money? I promise I’ll pay it back as soon as I can! I just kind of need to get my footing…it’s a bit embarrassing.” He mumbled that last part.

Again a lingering silence permeated the call. He was about to ask if his mom was still there when his dad picked up the phone.

“Patrick, I can’t understand you. You call at such an odd hour, obscurely asking us for money…how will I know exactly when you’ll pay us back? You don’t have a reputation for responsibility, and that is my failure, but it is a failure that we both must live with now.” His dad’s usual harshness came through, strong as ever. “Why borrow money? Why not just come work for us, be on the board? There’s good money to be had here…it’s a safe career. Tennis is behind you, son.” Patrick wouldn’t listen, though. Tennis was his life. He couldn’t let that go.

“No, Dad. You don’t understand. I’ve got a shot, really, I just need to be able to get there. Please. Lend me the money and I’ll make you proud. And…” he stammered for a moment. “And if I don’t…make you proud, that is, I’ll come join the board. Alright?” Patrick could hear the brief shuffling of his parents discussing his proposition. He knew what he was doing. He was confident that he wasn’t signing a death sentence here.

“Fine. How much do you need?”

2025:

In all honesty, it was hard to see him winning like this —literally. To see him doing so well…and having not heard a word about it…it hurt. As foolish as it was, you had sort of, deep down, held out hope that if he ever pulled himself together, he would reach out, let you know, and you could give it another go. Taking a sip from your drink, you resigned yourself to having to move on from your silly, childish hopes.

As you were wrapping up at the bar, paying the check and getting your coat, you noticed a certain someone, however, just coming in. It couldn’t be…

“Patrick?” You asked in astonishment. He looked up from his phone, expecting a fan, but finding you instead.

“Y/N? Wha- what are you doing here?” You had heard that same question 5 years ago in that dive bar, but this time you were delighted to hear those words.

“I- uh…I’m here for work. What are you doing here?”

“I’ve got a match around here in 2 days, so I’m here to get familiar with the area first. It’s this thing my coach’s got me doing.” Hearing him reference a coach was refreshing. If you had kept up with him more, you might know who his coach is; he’d be happy to tell you of all people how he reunited with his former best friend and how Tashi Duncan now coaches him, but that’s besides the point.

“Oh, nice…” there was a brief pause, neither of you exactly knowing what to say. “You look good,” you remarked.

“So do you,” he replied with his usual swagger, but a genuineness lying beneath it. “Would you want to get a drink with me? Y’know, it’s been so long. It could be nice to catch up.” Who would you be to deny him?

That’s how you found yourself now in a bar— well, more like a small club— with famous tennis player, and your ex-boyfriend, Patrick Zweig. He insisted on going somewhere better than the hotel bar, so you two walked beneath the cool hues of the street lights to an intimate little club he’d heard of, with a great bar. It wasn’t overly classy, but it wasn’t a trashy club either. It was sort of like Patrick: open but intimate, smooth with a rugged edge, and comfortable but unpredictable.

“So what are you doing now?” Patrick asked before taking a sip of his beer.

You shrugged. “Nothing too interesting, just marketing. Trying to work my way up, y’know?” He nodded in response, taking another sip. “What about you? Clearly you took my advice?” Your body felt hot as you asked him that, half worried he’d completely forgotten about that night and your whole speech. Honestly, you still felt like a fool in front of him, reduced to nothing but your pure emotions. To your surprise, he chuckled.

“Actually, yeah, I did. To be honest I was sort of broken up about the whole thing. I wasn’t ready for a wake up call like that, but it’s what I needed. I have you to thank for where I am today.” His kind words were shocking, honestly off putting coming from someone so notoriously cocky. You almost didn’t know how to reply.

“Me?” There was absolutely no way in your mind he did all of this for you.

“I mean…I had always hoped…at some point or another we could be together again…y’know, give it another go,” he looked up from his drink then, eyes questioning you dangerously, but longingly too. He had missed you. He had thought of you. He wanted to be with you.

And who could refuse Patrick Zweig?

You didn’t bother responding, partly your longing for him taking over, partly the couple of drinks you had had, as you lean forward and pull him into a passionate kiss. Though he seems surprised at first, he settles into it quickly, opening his mouth and deepening the kiss. He reaches for the back of your head for leverage, effectively taking control here. You didn’t mind that though. Being this close to him you could take in the scent of his cologne. It was the same one you had bought for him when you were first together. God, having some restraint was going to be a lot harder than you thought.

Luckily, it seemed Patrick was feeling the same, as his cold hands snaked around your neck, pushing your hair away from your face before leaning in close and whispering “wanna go to my hotel room?” He asked so softly that you almost felt like you had imagined it. But your other senses confirmed you hadn’t. The chill on the back of your neck that ran down your spine at the feeling of his hand…his hot breath fanning across your chest…taking in the sight of him in such need and so close to you after so much time apart. This was real and this was happening, and you felt completely powerless at the will of Patrick.

“Mhmm,” was all you could offer in such a state of awe. You nodded lightly, eyes blown as you reached for his hand, a smile gracing your lips.

“There’s my good girl,” he smirked as he took your hand, leading you out of the bar at a quick pace. You two walked beneath the downtown lights, practically racing back to the hotel. This wasn’t just about sex…not for you anyways. This was your chance to reconnect with Patrick, someone you really had loved, in every possible way. It felt like the world’s possibilities had opened up again. There was a new brightness to everything that you hadn’t seemed to notice in his years long absence. But it was there again now.

When you two reached the hotel, it was hard to contain yourselves as the elevator slowly climbed to the 13th floor where Patrick was staying. “Lucky number 13,” he has remarked, giving you a wicked grin as he pressed the button in the elevator. Upon finally getting to his room, the two of you were on each other again like wild animals. He pushed you up against the door, kissing from your lips down to your neck. He looked up at you devilishly before making quick work of the buttons on your blouse. He leaned in once more, placing warm kisses along your clothed breasts. “I missed you baby…” he mumbles against your skin. God, you missed him too. You push him off of you then, surprising him as you pull him further into the room and towards the bed.

“I can’t wait, Pat…forget the foreplay, I need you,” you almost beg him as you work to remove the rest of your clothes.

“Shit, you don’t have to tell me twice,” he chuckles out as he follows suit. When you’re ready you lay on the bed looking up at him sweetly, innocently, as if you had no clue what you do to him. You did, of course, but it was fun to make it seem so effortless. He climbed over you, his arms caging you against the bed as he smiled down at you. Practically doing a push up, he came down to kiss you tenderly before eyeing you carefully. “You wanna do this baby?” Always the gentleman, he had to make sure.

“Uh huh, I do. I really do, Pat,” you whimpered back, riddled with need. He nodded then, lining himself up against your entrance before sinking deep within you. The feeling of being filled so completely was beyond what any words could truly describe.

“Oh, fuck baby,” he murmured as he started to move, slowly at first, seemingly for his own sake of lasting more than yours. His pace picked up quickly, though, leaving you both a moaning mess. As his hips pistoned between your thighs, moving in and out with such a sweet rhythm, a thought crossed your mind. You were feeling needy, that was true, but you remembered how needy he could be too way back when. And if he could be like that then, then after not seeing you for so long…you were curious.

“Fuck, Pat, c’mere,” you whined as you motioned for him to lean down, close to your face. He followed your instruction, pressing the weight of his body against yours as you looked at each other face to face.

“What is it babe,” he asked as his hips continued to snap in and out of you rapidly. Without saying another word, you flipped the two of you over with surprising ease. You sat up, now on top, riding him like there was no tomorrow. “Fuck- holy shit- babe, oh my god, shit- don’t stop,” he moaned. You liked hearing him like this, but he could be a bit loud. Not wanting to wake the neighbors, you smirked down at him as you rode, bringing your fingers up to his mouth and quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Wouldn’t want to be too loud…” you remind him as he takes your fingers in his mouth, moaning around them this time. It didn’t really change much sound wise, but fuck if it wasn’t hot. To see him like this too after so much time…it was good to know you still held some power. (Or at least, you thought you did). Feeling that familiar hot feeling in the bottom of your stomach, you knew your high was close. Patrick’s must’ve been too because you could feel him twitch inside of you whenever he hit that spongey spot deep inside. “Fuck, Pat…m’gonna…m’gonna,” you whimpered from atop him.

“Me too, princess, me too,” he gasped out around your fingers. He sounded so breathless…it was so beautiful. “Fuck, here it comes,” he moaned as he threw his head back, releasing inside of you in hot sticky ropes. That sent you over the edge as you cried out in high-pitched, intelligible squeals. As your climax ended, you collapsed onto Patrick’s chest, leaning into him. He was still inside of you as you laid on him sleepily.

“Mmm, thank you,” you murmured. He laughed at your words, reaching to pet your hair from beneath you.

“You don’t have to thank me for fucking you, babe, it’s what boyfriend’s do.” It was new, strange, and unfamiliar to hear him so willingly refer to himself as your boyfriend, especially after such a whirlwind reunion. But you weren’t upset. It was nice if nothing else.

“Hmm, yeah, you’re right…boyfriend,” you mumbled into the bare skin of his chest. He smiled at you as you drifted off to sleep. He’d wake you in a bit and get you both cleaned up, but you looked too peaceful right now. And of course he’d have to buy you a morning after pill tomorrow, but again, it’s what boyfriends do, right?

#challengers #patrick zweig fic #patrick zweig #patrick zweig angst #patrick zweig x reader #challengers angst #challengers fic #challengers movie #challengers smut #patrick zweig smut #tolerate it series #tolerate it #cordelia writes

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spicyclover · 2 years ago

Note

Hey! Would you like to write one for Charles where he can't drive his normal car (for whatever reason), so he asks the reader for help, but she's kind of nervous and thinks there will be some judging? 😅

Bad Tooth

Summary: A dentist appointment and a ride home.

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! And to support me by tipping me!

Little information, I will, for now, only post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

If there's one thing Charles doesn't like, it is the dentist. He hates it. Even as a child, he would do anything to not go. But after spending a week with an abominable toothache, he is unfortunately forced to.

To be honest, you forced him. You couldn’t take off his complaints anymore, all day, and after treating him like a baby so he’d understand, he finally made an appointment.

So that’s why you find yourself in the dentist’s parking lot arguing for Charles to get out of the car.

"Charles, please can we get out?"

"No, I feel way better now."

"That's a lie. You know it. I know it. Everybody knows it. Do I have to take you by the hand like the child you are?" He evaluates your proposition before saying anything else.

"That's not fair," he wines before getting out of the car, acting like the child he is.

You chuckle a bit before following his step to the dentist's office. You waited for a few minutes before the dentist was ready to see Charles. Before going, he looks at you with puppy eyes, imploring you to say something. But you just rolled your eyes and pushed him to the man.

The appointment took longer than expected, and you start to worry. You go up to the receptionist and ask for an update.

"Hi, sorry to bother you, but do you know what going on with M.Leclerc?"

"Give me a minute," You wait by the desk while she goes behind. You’re wondering if what he’s got is worse than you thought. "Thank you for waiting, so Mr. Leclerc is currently under anesthesia, and the dentist is removing two wisdom teeth. The surgery should end in five minutes, and then you can go home."

"Wisdom teeth?"

"Yes, apparently it was quite bad. The doctor will get to you soon."

You thank her and get back to your seat. "So he wasn't pretending... Oops." You might have thought he was lying when he started complaining about it, and you guessed it was one of his many schemes to get your attention. "Well, we can all be wrong sometimes."

The dentist comes to get you several minutes later, and you're now allowed to see Charles. You walk into the room, and you see him totally buzzed out. He's so high right now, and his mouth is like ten times his normal size, and you can't help but laugh a bit.

You take your phone out and capture this unique moment of Charles looking like a squirrel being high on drugs.

"No... no pic... pict... pictures," he mumbles while drooling.

"Sorry, baby, but the others won't believe me if I don't."

"Ha... hate... hate you."

"No, you don't, you love me, and now your teeth won't hurt anymore." You laugh, trying to be positive.

"I lo... I loov live a squerrel.

"Yeah, you do. But I love my squerrel." You chuckle, kissing the top of his head.

"Hate... hate hich."

"Let's go home, baby."

The dentist gives you the last information for the few weeks to come, and you can't help but laugh at Charles's face when he tells him you couldn't eat solid food or make any physical effort for at least the first week. His look was priceless.

You tried to be compassionate, but Charles makes such a big deal when you get yours removed that you can't help but do the same. You texted the entire grid and his family, his face, for at least a few weeks. Was it a low move? Probably. Was it worth it? Totally.

You get back to the car, and Charles hands you his keys. You look at him for ten seconds before realizing he can't drive like this. Your eyes open wide, and you want to protest, but he shushes you. Well, not really, it’s more drool than anything, but you understand what he wants.

Your sight and get behind the wheel after setting Charles down. It's his time to laugh. You watch him set his seatbelt and hang on to the door while you start the Ferrari.

"It's not funny."

"Oh, ish funny," he gibberish, half joking, half whining by the pain. "Chart ye engine, bae."

You press the button, but nothing happens. You press it again, and nothing. You frustrated yourself, wishing you had taken your normal car.

"hress the hedal."

You start the car and press the pedal but nothing.

"Hress the hedal!"

"That's what am doing!" You say annoying.

"Hress the rite hepal."

You do as he says, and the engine finally goes on. You smile, looking at Charles, thinking it's now only a matter of going home, but no. You try to change the gear, and the car stalls. Charles giggles, completely high by his meds, while you start again and try to get to first gear.

It's gonna be a long ride, you start thinking. You're not even out of the parking, and it's already a nightmare. You complain about the car and look at Charles, who's entirely soon out.

You arrive at the parking doors and start going in the street. You're way lower than the permit limitation, and Charles encourages you to go faster. You're so nervous that you don't even realize you’re holding the wheel with all your might. How Charles trusts you enough with his car in this city?

"Ou doing reat, bae!" Says Charles putting his hand and yours.

It's only then, that you realize the grip you have on the wheel.

"reath." He inspires and exhales at the same time as you.

"I hate this!" You declare when another motorist cuts the road, making you almost have an accident.

You have to brake hard, which makes Charles tighten his teeth, and you know he’s in pain. You apologize to Charles and rant after all the cars you pass.

"God, you must hate me right now. I'm so sorry Cha."

"ish okay. Ou doing reat. Ust ocus on the road." He says, holding on for his life when you almost pass at a red.

"You must thing I drive terribly, but it's your car. Pretty sure something wrong with it." You say, finally pulling in the entry of the complex.

You park the car and finally exhale when the engine stop.

"I'm never doing this again. Next time, we're taking the bus."

Charles chuckles and takes your hand. He leans on you, and you walk to the elevator. Once home, Charles went to rest, and you spent the rest of the afternoon worrying that he might not trust you again with his car.

You prepared his dinner, and his drug wore off after his nap. He still looks like a squirrel, but at least he's not high anymore. You gave him his soup, and he frowns when he says your right hand completely eating up to the flesh.

"Baby. What happen?"

"What?"

"Your nails."

"It's nothing. I had an anxiety episode after we came home."

"Why?"

"Well, I almost killed us."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your car, Charles."

"Oh," he laughs. "You did truly amazing, amour. "I mean you need practice, but you did Wonderfull and we are here, and safe. You should have to wake me."

You smile and hug him tight. Even in your darkest days, he sees your potential and always encourages you to go beyond your limits. You don’t know what you did to deserve him, but you love him. You want to kiss him so badly, but that will wait until he recovers.

"I'm never going back to the dentist," complains Charles taking the pain killers. "It's the worst day of my life."

You laugh and give him the ice for his swollen cheek.

"Did you post the photos?"

"I did." You says, taking your phone out to show him.

It's only then you realize that you didn't send the photos to the group chat but to your Instagram story...

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fluff #fluff

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honeypiehotchner · 1 year ago

Text

Devil's Backbone (Unsub!Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part ten

I listened to the stripped version of "Good Looking" a lotttt starting around now as I wrote this fic. It's perfect for how the reader is beginning to feel, the sadness and confusion, remembering how Hotch was and realizing how she no longer knows him 😭😭

Warnings: things are beginning to unravel

Follow @honeypiehotchnerlibrary and turn on post notifications to be "tagged" when a new chapter goes up!

Ten: The skyline falls as I try to make sense of it all -- "Good Looking" by Suki Waterhouse

“Hotch said he didn’t have any of the files, JJ,” Dave said, stepping into her office. The two of them spoke on the phone last night, as promised, and Dave wanted to give JJ the update first thing in the morning, as promised. “He said he had older ones.” He listed the names off and JJ nodded along.

“I have those accounted for,” she said, looking at her computer, shaking her head. “I know he had those. The others are probably in here somewhere. It’s just weird.”

“I agree,” Rossi said. Files didn’t disappear randomly. If some were taken or even copied, JJ was notified, and she logged it. “But we’ll figure it out.”

“Did you look through Hotch’s office?” JJ suggested. She seemed hesitant to even ask, chewing on her nails after proposing the question.

“No,” Rossi said. “Should we?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, should we?”

Rossi thought it over. Strauss’s concern. Your odd reaction to his questions. Hotch’s strange character every time Rossi called. None of it made any sense. Rossi assumed it was grief, just like you told him, just like he told himself, that maybe it was Hotch even trying to convince himself that he was feeling better than he was. But there was a nagging feeling deep in his chest that he couldn’t get rid of.

“Yeah,” Rossi finally said. “I’ll go look.” He knew how it looked and felt: like an invasion of Aaron’s privacy. But this was becoming too convoluted to worry about privacy.

Rossi went back into the bullpen, glad to see you sitting at your desk already. He tapped your shoulder as he went by, nodding his head up to the second level.

You got up and followed, assuming he was going to his office. Your heart began hammering in your chest when Rossi stopped outside Hotch’s office. No one had been in there since Hotch left. It was locked.

You watched in terror as Rossi took out his keys and let himself into Hotch’s office, flicking the light switch.

You walked inside slowly, your voice low as you asked, “What are you doing?”

“What I don’t want to be doing,” Rossi replied in a hiss, pinching the bridge of his nose. He gestured toward you. “Shut the door.”

You closed the door and pulled the blinds for good measure. Or to help your paranoia. You had a bad feeling in your stomach and a bad taste in your mouth. “Rossi, what the hell is going on?”

“JJ can’t find a few files,” he replied, stopping in front of Aaron’s desk facing you, placing his hands on his hips.

“I know, she told me--”

“One of them she can’t find is Issac Holman.”

“What?” That was not right. That had to be a bad coincidence. The file showed up missing and Holman was dead? Impossible. Too eerie to be a coincidence.

“Another one missing is Nicholas Edwards,” Rossi continued. “He died two days ago. Shot in the back of the head, executioner style.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell us?” That was a brutal method; it was necessary to alert the team.

“Because I didn’t want to say anything just yet,” Rossi replied. His fuming eyes landed on you next. “I need you to come clean with me.”

Fear shot through you so hard that you took a step back from him. “What?”

“When I called you into my office a couple of days ago, you acted like I was interrogating you when I asked simple questions,” Rossi recalled, stepping closer to you. “What did you and Aaron talk about? Tell me the truth. Right now.”

You shook your head. This was a nightmare. This was not happening to you. “Rossi--”

“Agent L/N, I am ordering you,” he pressed, raising his voice. He stepped closer, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “Tell me. This is bigger than whatever secrets you might have, so I need you to get over it and--”

“We had sex!” you blurted, shame rising in your chest like flames, burning their way to your neck. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Stunned, Rossi struggled to find words, eyes blinking and jaw opening and closing. “You-- Are-- Are you two seeing each other?”

“No,” you replied, your face burning with embarrassment. You wished that was the reason behind the sex, that it was a sweet, romantic, domestic relationship you were hiding. “He kicked me out. He wanted nothing to do with me. Can we move on now?”

“Yeah,” Rossi said, turning around slowly. “Help me look for any files he kept in here. Holman and Edwards might be in them.”

You nodded, glad your failed fling with your boss was forgotten for the moment. “Why would they be in here?”

“He liked to go over them afterwards,” Rossi explained.

“Yeah, I know.” You turned to look on the side tables by the couch, but there were only random magazines, no doubt put there by someone else. Strauss probably put them there one day to liven the place up a bit.

Rossi studied one section of Aaron’s desk against the back wall. “This is empty.”

You leaned over. “Yeah.” You stared at it, eyebrows furrowing. “He used to have a lot of books and…” Files. You remember. You watched him close his briefcase as he said he was sorry but you knew he didn’t mean it.

Rossi turned and looked at you, the same haunted expression on his face. “He took them with him.”

You nodded slowly, your hand covering your mouth. “I watched him take them.” You paused, a sick feeling settling into your bones. “Rossi…what is going on?”

“I don’t know,” Rossi said slowly, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

But he knew. You both knew. Neither of you wanted to admit it.

+++

Aaron was washing the blood off his hands in the unsub’s bathroom sink.

He didn’t mean for that much blood to be shed, but he got carried away. The unsub fought back harder than Aaron expected him to. One punch led to another and then Aaron had flashbacks to George Foyet. The unsub’s face no longer existed. It was only Foyet, and Aaron got revenge. Again. And again.

Unfortunately, it made a mess of the fucking bedroom. Thankfully, none of Aaron’s blood was shed. He caught a few blows to his chest and abdomen, but none to the face, none that bled, not like the unsub bled all over the goddamn place. Aaron knew the human body carried 5 liters of blood -- thanks to Reid -- but it looked like much more.

He needed to leave as soon as possible, so he settled for cleaning his hands thoroughly and forgetting the rest.

He rode back to his home in Quantico in silence. No music, no news. He needed to think.

But thinking only landed him in places he didn’t want to be, so he stopped. He stopped for food and carried on back to Quantico to get his things together.

He had one more unsub to hunt, and it wouldn’t be easy. The fucker ran from him once, he assumed he would do it again. So, Aaron needed to be careful and meticulous about this one. It would take longer than a weekend getaway.

+++

You were called into Strauss’s office the following day. You knew it wasn’t good, but you knew that even before you saw Rossi sitting in one of her chairs, fingers pressed to his temple.

“You called for me, ma’am?” you asked, shutting her office door behind you.

“Yes,” Strauss rounded her desk, gesturing to one of the empty seats on her couch. “Sit.”

This is not good. You did as you were told, sitting on the very edge of the cushion. Rossi refused to look at you, and it made your stomach turn. You took a deep breath.

“What do you know of Hotch’s whereabouts?” Strauss asked conversationally. She went over to her minifridge and grabbed a bottle of water.

“Uh, he’s at his apartment, I guess?” you replied, taking the water from her.

“You guess?” Strauss pressed.

You chuckled awkwardly. “Ma’am, with all due respect, I don’t know where Agent Hotchner is. We haven’t spoken since he left.”

Strauss laughed as she sat down across from you. “Well, Dave told me you did speak to Aaron.”

You looked at Rossi with wide eyes, sensing betrayal, but he shook his head only slightly. So he told her the truth, but not the full truth.

“I went to his apartment to offer condolences,” you said. “And to check on how he was doing.”

“And how was he doing?”

“He seemed fine,” you shrugged, putting the water down on her coffee table. “What is this about?”

Strauss sighed. “Agent Hotchner’s behavior has been worrying me since the day I sent him home,” she said. “Now, supposedly, he needs to get away, with no phone, no devices. And frankly, I cannot let him do that.”

You looked at Rossi, your eyebrows furrowed. “Where is he going? What is he thinking?”

“I don’t know,” Rossi replied. “He wouldn’t tell me. Just that he is heading out tomorrow morning.”

You turned back to Strauss. “Ma’am, I had no idea--”

“I know,” she stopped you with her hand in the air. “I don’t care to know the details of your relationship with Agent Hotchner. I hope there aren’t any details. But seeing as you are someone he trusts, I need you to follow him.”

“Follow him?”

“Yes. See where he goes. If it’s nothing troubling, you will return to the BAU. This is a private assignment and you are not to discuss this with anyone outside of this room, do you understand?”

You nodded. “I do.”

You felt like you were signing your life away.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #unsub!hotch x fem!reader #unsub!hotch x reader #unsub!hotch x you #unsub!hotch #unsub!hotch fanfiction #unsub!hotch fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic

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