#he’d be so annoyed with the employees playing along | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shixcherie · 29 days ago

Text

No More Keep Control | Jung Wooyoung ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 20 : Mutual Masturbation

↬ [ Synopsis ] : What happens when you and Wooyoung decide to indulge in a sweet office romance, with no more keeping control ?

☆Word Count : 2.3k ☆Genre : Smut, Suggestive, Angst, Non-Idol Au. Office Au. ☆Pairing : Employee! Wooyoung x Boss! F.Reader

☆☆☆ WARNINGS : Office romance, mutual masturnbation, whiny Wooyoung, he has mild degradation kink, loves prasing you, pet names (baby, you call him), Sub! Wooyoung, Soft! Dom Reader, Fingering (fem doing it to herself), handjob (Woo storking himself).

NOTE : heyyaa Loves here is Day 20. Also I am grinding hard to catchup as my exams had a chokehold on me so please show some love for this fic. Hope you enjoy the heck outta it and subby Wooyoung ma chéries.

“I feel really bad for you, Wooyoung-ah. But fighting!” Seonghwa said to his younger co-worker as he wrapped up his work, his belongings packed and ready to leave.

Today, the company was throwing its mandatory monthly party, and everyone was off work early, getting ready to attend the crazy expensive event ,except for him.Wooyoung.

“Bro! She really hates you. Who the heck dumps such hectic last-minute tasks, especially on the day of the big party?” Yunho said, his hand loosely hanging around Mingi’s shoulder, who was busy booking a cab for the both of them.

“Either she hates you or she likes you so much that she wants to keep you for extra hours,” San said, pausing as he squished Woo’s cheeks. “Anyways, fighting! Finish up quickly and go home. I’ll update you on everything about the party.” He then proceeded to leave with the group.

“Ughh! She is so annoying,” Wooyoung grumbled to himself as a frustrated sigh escaped his lips. Kicking the chair, he sat in front of his PC. “Why does she get to have fun while I have to work extra hours? She is the CEO. She should be working hard instead of dumping loads on me… Ughh, I hate her.” he muttered to himself before realizing he could actually scream since the office was completely empty right now. Not a single soul was in the vicinity.

Making up his mind that sighing and complaining is not gonna get the job done he fianlly opened the code that he needs to work on. After what felt like hours of playing around the code, this one bug was irritating the hell outta him.

Just as he leaned back, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion, Wooyoung’s phone lit up with a notification. It was a photo from San at the party. Everyone laughing, drinks raised as if the energy in pictures was mocking him through the screen. In the background, he noticed the CEO, you, smiling, carefree, and radiant.

A surge of frustration mixed with something deeper stirred in him as he stared at the picture. Glancing around the empty, quiet office, he let his thoughts drift, his hand lowering as he focused on your image. Unable to hold back, he gave in trying to let go of the tension he’d been carrying all evening.

Wooyoung's breath grew ragged as he leaned back in his chair with his hard cock whipped out as he focused on your picture. His hand moved slowly at first, savoring the moment as his fingers wrapped tightly around himself, moving in a steady rhythm.

He imagined you, the way you laughed, that effortless confidence you wore so well, and the frustrating times when you shouted at him in your office, along with moments like this when you dumped piles of work on him at the last minute.

He liked it, when you yelled at him. His movements grew more intense, matching the quickening beat of his heart, his eyes half-closed as he gave himself over completely to the pleasure.

“Y/n, ughh! why are you like this? Why are you such a devil wrapped in an angel’s body ?” Wooyoung murmured to himself, biting his lower lip as his hands rubbed with a passionate pace around his hard cock.

He was almost there nearing that painful release, when he felt a sudden yet light tap on his shoulder.

His hand froze instantly, his eyes shot open, and his heart raced as he turned slowly to see the CEO standing right there in all your glory.

You. Looking down at him with a playful smirk.

“Enjoying yourself, Wooyoung?” you murmured, your voice low and sultry as you leaned in closer, your eyes sweeping over him with unmistakable dominance. The playful smirk on your lips deepened as you watched Wooyoung squirm beneath you.

He swallowed hard as he straightened himself, fixing his pants and realizing that he was completely at your mercy now.

“Why don’t you come to my office and show me what you were doing?” you suggested, your tone teasing yet commanding. With that you turned on your heel, walking towards your office.

What are you going to do with him ? Will you punish him? Will you fire him ? His thoughts ran wild as he followed you like a little puppy following his master. Scared but excited.

As you both entered your office, you kept the lights minimal, with only the light above your desk turned on, adding to the ambiance. Wooyoung maintained a safe distance, standing on the other side of your table, anticipation clouding his mind as he waited to see where this would lead.

You gestured for him to come to you on the other side of the table, and he complied.

“Sit.” you said, your voice low yet commanding. Obeying at once, Wooyoung sat in your CEO chair, settling into it as his eyes held yours, watching intensely while you perched on the table in front of him. Your black mid-length dress exposed your milky thighs, making him feel hot all over.

Wooyoung’s breath caught as you shifted, exposing more of your thigh, a teasing invitation as he could feel the heat radiating off your skin, intensifying the desire pooling in his core.

“Why don’t you show me what you were doing ?” you instructed, your tone playful yet commanding. “I want to see how you pleasure yourself, just like you were earlier.”

His heart raced, caught between embarrassment and excitement. He hesitated, his gaze darting between your eyes and the enticing sight of your exposed thigh.

“Go on,” you encouraged, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “You know you want to.”

With a shaky breath, he nodded, slowly reaching down to unzip his pants. The thrill of your eyes on him, watching his every move, ignited a fire within him.

You smiled, enjoying the sight as he pulled out his hardened member, the tension in the room thickening. “That’s it. Now, do what you were doing before. I want to see you lose yourself in it.” you said, your voice a sultry whisper.

As he began to stroke himself, his eyes never left yours, filled with a mix of submission and desire. You moved your hands to your own body, slowly lifting your dress higher, revealing more skin as you mirrored his actions, your fingers gliding over yourself with a teasing finesse.

“Just like that, Wooyoung. Follow my lead.” you urged, your voice low and seductive. The air was thick with unspoken tension as you both lost yourselves in the pleasure, captivated by each other.

As Wooyoung’s hand moved faster, a low groan escaped his lips filled with a mix of pleasure and frustration. You could see the way he struggled to keep his eyes locked on yours. The sound of his breath was quick and uneven which only added to the electric tension in the room.

You raised your own hand, trailing it up your thigh, savoring the sensation as your fingers brushed against your skin. The sight of you teasing yourself, mirroring his actions made his breath hitch and his pulse quicken. You relished the way he was mesmerized by your movements.

“Keep going,” you commanded softly, your tone both enticing and authoritative. “I want to hear you. Tell me, baby, how good does it feel?”

His strokes quickened as he was losing himself in the pleasure, urgency seeping into his movements as he leaned closer to you. “Y/n…” he gasped, the desperation in his voice igniting a fire within you. “This feels so good… I-I’m close...” The way your name rolled off his tongue fueled you to indulge more and more.

You leaned forward slightly, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “What do you want to see me do, Wooyoung?”

His eyes darkened, filled with lust as he struggled to form a coherent thought, his mind fogged with pleasure.

“Just… just like that…” he managed to breathe out, his fingers still working furiously. “I want to see you touch yourself. Please.”

A playful smile danced on your lips as you basked in the power you held over him. “Oh, you want to see me?” you teased, your fingers gliding up your thigh, inching higher as you relished the way his gaze followed your every move. “Then tell me how you want me to touch myself. Describe it for me, baby.”

“Slow,” he breathed, his voice thick with desire. “I want to see you take your time.”

“Like this?” you replied, deliberately dragging your fingers over your wet cunt, swirling them around your clit and savoring the sensation as your breath quickened. To say you were turned on by the sight of your favorite employee pleasuring himself in your presence would be an understatement. You had your eyes on him for a while, and today you finally got what you wanted for years.

“Yes,” he gasped, his hand moving faster as he tried to match the rhythm of your teasing. “Just like that. Don’t stop. Ugh… you are so gorgeous.” His praise fueled you to go faster.

Your fingers rubbed harder against your now dripping cunt, your fingers slowly entering your little hole while you watched him quicken his pace around his hard cock. A gasp left your lips at the sensation of fingers filling you and getting hugged by your squishy walls turned your brain into a mush.

You couldn’t help but smirk at his eagerness. “Keep going, Wooyoung,” you instructed, your voice sultry and coaxing. “I want to see you cum for me. But… follow my lead, okay, baby?” He nodded eagerly as he relished the sight of your glistening pussy.

“Good boy,” you praised, your tone dripping with desire. You maintained a slow, deliberate rhythm, feeling every sensation of pleasure building inside of you with your fingers moving inside your dripping cunt at a rapid pace. You locked eyes with him. “Just like that. Go faster for me, baby.”

He obeyed, stroking himself faster, his breath came in ragged gasps and pleasurable moans, each one igniting a fire deep within you. “Y/n... I... I can’t hold on much longer.” he admitted, his voice trembling.

“Neither can I,” you confessed, your voice low and completely breathless as you fucked yourself with your fingers. You leaned closer, both your breaths mingling as you pressed a quick kiss on his cheek. “But I want you to hang on. Just a little longer. Can you do that for me ?”

“Y-Yes…” he panted while his hand worked tirelessly. “I want to see you cum first.”

“Not yet…” you teased with a playful glint in your eyes. “Tell me how it feels, baby. Let me hear every detail.”

“Ugh, it feels so good,” he groaned, urgency evident in his voice. “Watching you touch yourself drives me wild. You’re so beautiful, every time your fingers glide over your skin, it sends shivers down my spine. I can’t take my eyes off you, it’s like you’re casting a spell on me. The way you tease me just makes me want you even more. You know how much I crave this, right?” He paused, taking a deep breath but continued to pour his heart out. “The way you yell at me only adds to the thrill. I love how you take control. It makes my heart race and my body ache, and honestly, the more you push me, the more I want to explode right here. Please, Y/n…just keep going. Please.”

The way Wooyoung poured his heart out at your one order pushed you over the brink, bringing you closer and closer to the edge where you felt yourself almost there, ready to cum and lose yourself in the intoxicating pleasure.

With his every stroke, you increased the pace, your fingers moving rapidly inside your wetness. You leaned back slightly, arching your back as you savored the sensation coursing through you. The movement accentuated your beautiful curves, drawing his gaze like a moth to a flame.

“Y/n…” he gasped, desperation edging his voice. “Please, no more… keep control. I want to cum with you. Together.”

You let out a soft moan that sent shivers through him. Your fingers moved in quick, swirling motions, curling while your thumb teased your sensitive clit while your other hand gripped the edge of the table for support. You could feel the tension building with each passing second, your body responding eagerly to every movement.

“Ugh, I—” His voice broke off into a moan, and you could see the way he was losing himself in the moment, his body moving with desperate need. You quickened your pace, mirroring the frantic rhythm of his strokes.

You curled your fingers inside yourself, intensifying the pleasure as you both surrendered to the overwhelming sensations. “Cum with me, Wooyoung,” you urged, your voice sultry and inviting. “Feel every ounce of pleasure.”

He moaned loudly as your name left his lips like prayers, and in that moment, you both crossed the red line going off the edge. With one final stroke, he let out a desperate gasp as his release crashed over him, he came hard with white ribbons of thick cum coating his thighs as his body trembled. Gasping, you surrendered completely to the sensations coursing through you, your body shaking as you came hard on your fingers coating them with your slick.

You both came hard feeling breathless and overwhelmed while your bodies still vibrated from the intensity of what you had just shared. As sweet warmth settled over you, you exchanged soft smiles, your hearts racing in the aftermath. Wooyoung brushed a strand of hair from your face, his eyes sparkling with affection.

“Guess I’m not a devil anymore… wrapped inside an angel’s body?” you teased him.

“Umm…you’re the most beautiful and angelic devil I’ve ever met. I love both sides of you.” he whispered back, placing a kiss on the corner of your lips as he helped you off the table. You both proceeded to clean yourselves up.

Guess that's how it feels when you no more keep control.

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

Disclaimer : This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

103 notes · View notes

cookie-crumblr · 30 days ago

Text

Spectral Tiger

GN!Reader × Invisible M!Yan OC

Part 1~

Intro <<< >>> Next Part

His info: ✨💎🩹

MINORS DNI

CW: G/N Reader, reader is a sub, reader referred to as they/them, teasing, sexual themes, public nudity, long part lots of little mini jumps, not proofread, slower burn, still no smut!! <3

“You sure you aren’t just some creep? I mean you bumped into me… Naked. I feel like i have to re shower now.” You wrap your arms around yourself, “Why didn’t you just say something sooner?”

“That was not on purpose, as I explained before, I was simply waiting until I could figure out my next steps.” He sighs, your floor creaks as he presumably paces, “I’ve never inter-dimensionally traveled before, let alone unexpectedly, please forgive that i’m a little out of my element.” he sounds earnest.

With a little more worry on your bottom lip you respond more thoughtfully this time, “Right, that would actually make sense… Its hard to discredit you right now too, since you’re actually invisible like right in front of me.”

Now it’s your turn to sigh.

“Okay we’ll, how do we hide that you’re, you know, not visible at all without making you wear a full on suit?”

“I’m assuming you have masks in this realm.”

“I am not walking around with a freak in a mask.”

“I could just stay naked, then we won’t have to worry about anyone seeing me.” he says simply.

“Absolutely not.”

Your eyes are wide and you’re completely silent.

He has a really nice body.

Like insanely nice.

He’s tall, and lean, with a wider upper body and a model waistline. His posture exudes comfort and a calm coolness. Good gods. he was sculpted by them for sure.

You pick your jaw off of the floor.

the only stupid thing is the poorly crafted wolf mask you have on his head… You bite your thumbnail…

“Well, how’s this freak in a mask look~? I kinda like your fashion over here.” He spins around to see all angles of himself in the mirror. The regular clothes at this store are actually pretty cute, he found some baggier pants that cinch at the ankles, with straps and chains that he instantly picked out, along with a feminine fit T from the movie scream.

It really hugs his figure and shows off his physique.

You’re blowing gaskets left and right trying to focus on other things, sat on the pouf in the corner of the family changing room.

You had told the spirit halloween employee you’d like a lot of room. They weren’t busy so they happily obliged. You also had to call work and tell them you’d be running late, and since you have a good track record (and a high position) they’re only giving you a warning.

You sigh, a little annoyed, and a little anxious by how hot he is. “You look fine.” it comes out sour on your tongue, to witch he chuckles.

“You look cute~” he finger guns you.

Yet another sigh escapes you, although this one is more of a groan, and through gritted teeth you simply say, “Let’s just go.”

Awkwardly, you pay for everything while trying not to freak out, imagining that everyone thinks you’re a couple of weirdos. At least it’s close to halloween. Another small blessing.

You debate leaving him in the car with the ac on… In his stupid dog mask he’d be like a little puppy, you’d put one of those “the music is playing and the ac is on” signs in the window.

Giggling to yourself, he pulls you back to reality with “May I become privy to the joke?”

“MaY i bEcOmE pRiVy?!” You bust out laughing what the fuck dimension did he come from? a Shakespearean one? “Sorry, sorry. I was just thinking of locking you in my car for the day.”

His head turns and he stops abruptly, but you quicken your pace, head tilted high into the air, a satisfied smirk on your face. “What?” You ask innocently.

You end up taking a zoober, driving in the city makes you a little anxious, since you live more on the outskirts in a nice gated district.

Luckily they don’t even really spare a glance back at you or your masked companion.

That doesn’t help your anxiety in the slightest however.

On the way he “ooo”’s and “aaah”’s at electronic billboards and screens on buildings. He must be from a time that’s slightly behind yours.

So far the only people asking about him once you get to the office are curious, and infatuated co workers, cant blame them.

As long as your boss doesn’t come in toda-

Here he comes.

straight to your office as always, his favorite little employee.

You try as hard as you can to shrink or become one with your chair, or both at once desperately.

“Well now, Y/N, who’s this? A client?”

“Not exactly,” Jack can just pull up your files and quickly deduce that this man is not in fact, a client, so it’s no use lying about that… “He’s a friend, that just flew in, i didn’t want to leave him alone in a hotel or at my place on his first day so i brought him here.” It flies out almost too naturally.

“Well hey there, friend,” He may as well of spat the word in his covered face. “What’s up with the mask?” the way his demeanor changed so fast would’ve given you whiplash if you weren’t used to Jacks mood swings and personality shifts.

“He’s a little high profile, Jack. You know, cant be seen in public type, or he might get noticed and he’s trying not to let that happen.”

“Shouldn’t I get to know who he is since I’m housing him here at this moment,” He leans on the door frame.

“Nope. Sorry, and you’re not ‘housing’ him” you throw up air quotes, “he’s just visiting”

He leaves slightly huffy but he thankfully dropped it, probably not wanting to look even worse in front of a possible celebrity.

You click your tongue.

“He’s so into you,” Zharu leans back in the red chair he’s claimed for himself, one leg crossed over the other.

“Ew no he’s just my boss.” You type nonsense into the keyboard.

“You aren’t even typing words, Y/N” he announces it the way Jack did and your face warms embarrassedly. “So what are we doing after this?” He sits up and surprisingly turns the Tv off.

“Shut up, you don’t even know what typing is. And were going to a rehearsal,” most of your family doesn’t show up, so he should be safe to come… But a mask would be extremely inappropriate… “Fuck… Looks like you’re going out naked today after all”

How could you possibly get him anything that would be even remotely close to appropriate with his entire body covered. Especially with so little time, a full body cast is out of the question!

You pinch the bridge of your nose.

You are more than acutely aware of how he is fully naked in a seat right next to you. And from earlier when he bumped into you you are aware of the fact that he has a rather decent package…

It’s too hot in this auditorium suddenly.

He shifts his weight until you feel his hair, slightly longer than you would’ve guessed, tickle your shoulder.

You grip the arm rest to stop yourself from jumping into the stratosphere! What is he doing getting so close!?

“What is this place for?” He whispers into your ear.

You let out a long exhale to steele yourself, relax, of course he’s just curious and didn’t want to draw attention by speaking loudly. What were you thinking!

“A-Ah oh um! it’s a theater, people come here to watch other people preform for entertainment,and money” You smile while keeping your eyes toward the stage.

Your heart rate almost steadies before he lets out a small sigh in understanding. It’s a pleasant sound, his voice rumbles slightly. Then he leans in even closer, His nose barely brushing into your hair now, “If I had money it’d definitely be entertaining to watch you preform for me,”

“What!?” Your hair stands on its ends, “!I mean, What!? What I mean—,” You’re short circuiting. You breathe and pinch yourself, calm down he doesn’t even know what he’s saying. Probably. In the mean time he’s pulled away, totally chuckling, while trying to keep himself quiet, “What do you think I would even preform?” you ask.

his body is suddenly even closer to yours, his hand gently caresses the opposite side your chin from where he’s sitting, “I could think of a few things…”

Steam might just about burst out of your ears! He does know!

Not too much longer and your brother enters the stage, he’s always the center performer. You stand to applaud loudly for him, he doesn’t show any emotion but you know he’s beaming on the inside.

“So cute~” you hear him say it softly, as if to himself, and your face warms as you try and forget about it.

When you reseat yourself, his hand lightly comes down onto your mid thigh.

77 notes · View notes

silverflqmes · 7 months ago

Note

Okay hear me out, may I request Cloud x reader fluff where we spend lovely spring morning together? Nothing nsfw just pure comfort, our cat laying in bed with us, laziness at it finest.

Off the topic I really adore your work! I'm quite new to ffvii, basically I've just started playing, but your work made me fall head over heels for Cloud haha. Anyway have a good day!

໒⦂ 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐖.

notes. hello! thank you so much for the request and the kind words akajsks i’m still fairly new to ff7 myself, but i’m glad to have amplified your love for it and cloud<3 the cat saga continues✨ i did something experimental here so it’s a little shorter, but i hope it’s okay :’)

genre. fluff + comfort

disclaimer. before any confusion arises.. sora is the name of your cat, who was first mentioned in this post if you are eager to see more of her!

cloud strife x gn!reader.

sora’s purring joins the gentle whistle sung by the breeze that swept through the bedroom window, chiffon curtains dancing to the soft tune like delicate petals.

cloud couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a taste of spring weather — of bitter cold melting into tender warmth.

the change of seasons was hardly ever noticeable without trees to flourish the busy streets with life, lakes to freeze over at the gradual drop of temperature, and flowers to splash the otherwise monochrome edge with color in the spring.

perhaps, it made the planet worth saving after all. to have been rewarded for his efforts at the very end with the beauty of the world, along with his beloved partner.. and a feline friend.

your chest rose and fell with breath, quietly, but surely, eyes fluttered shut. an unspoken trust, which your boyfriend treasured more than he could verbally express.

it was too early to even be up right now for most people.. but cloud, unfortunately, had to represent his little company as its only delivery guy and employee within the next two hours.

he fought back an annoyed sigh at the mental reminder of it.. only to remember that you had still been fast asleep.

any indicative sound that threatened to portray his irritation and spill from his lips all but melted away, falling completely silent on his tongue. because how could he possibly ruin the serene image of you all bundled up and cozy.

the exasperated exhale died all together in the stream of his windpipe as his features relaxed once more in repose.

normally he preferred taking up long distant deliveries by himself, but on this particular occasion, the client happened to live in your seaside hometown — costa del sol. a place that was untouched by the unpleasant smog of edge, and instead painted in a kaleidoscope of vibrant coats.. rather than a trillion shades of gray.

a shift in movement made his mako tinted sapphires flash just briefly before sliding to your stirring form.

his ears caught a jumbled, almost incoherent murmur ( were it not for his amplified hearing ) and cloud wondered to himself for a moment what dreams had joined you in your slumber. something lovely, he hoped, a gentle caress to your conscience.. and not the nightmares that haunted him until dawn on some evenings.

moonless nights when cloud thought too hard for comfort, let alone decent rest.

although, those had been few now. infrequent, thankfully, all because of your solace-filled presence — pressed into his chest.. and the light nuzzling of your calico kitty tucked into his side.

a silent, meow-less request for breakfast.. or maybe not. maybe it was just to ask cloud to stay a little while longer, and enjoy that which he could not back in edge.

waking up to unsullied air- a mixture of floral aromas and the soft, but welcome dripping of morning dew traveling from petal to petal, was.. sadly a rarity, the former infantryman realized.

which is why he found himself sinking into the pillows and duvets in submission, allowing darkness to greet his eyes for another round of sleep. two hours were more than enough to get dressed and to his destination. so truly, all he needed was thirty minutes to be dressed and out of your childhood home.

the hour and a half remaining could blissfully go to cuddling you a little while longer, all else drowning into background noise as he would slip further and further, deeper and deeper. surrendering himself completely to your warm company, the serendipitous quiet, and spring morn.

notes. okay this is way shorter than what i normally write, but i hope it’s still good😭 not much dialogue, just cloud being soft and at ease for a change ahaha

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

197 notes · View notes

pedgito · 11 months ago

Text

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒 ╳ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Six: Epilogue

Chapter Summary: You spend a year trying to forget about Joel, with no avail. And Joel, who's life has changed in ways he never anticipated lead to a year full of obstacles, until one fateful day when he sees you again.

Chapter Warnings: (6k) : no outbreak, the aftermath, lots of feelings, some parenting issues within joel's relationship with sarah's mom, reader still having no idea wtf to do with her life, intense feelings between joel/reader, underlying lust for each other (i mean, are we surprised?), open-ended ending

Life doesn’t just fall back into place, as much as you wished it had.

For you, it takes more than a few days or weeks, rather several months to not ache from the loss of Joel, something so special to you for such a short period of your life. His gift, the small carved wolf he’d given you for Christmas sat beside your bed, something you fell asleep to and woke to every morning—after a while, fortunately, it was less of a burden to look at and more of a beautiful reminder.

Your relationship with your family slowly improves, though it is rocky at first. You’re an adult, but it doesn’t stop the constant prying questions and worries about your life—something you have to set boundaries around. But, as a whole, you find that giving them a chance to improve and better their relationship with you is better than nothing at all.

And you want to say that you’ve figured out college and exactly what you wanted to do with your life, but it isn’t even close to being on your radar—and you enjoy your job now, working as one of the few employees at your local bookstore along with a serving job at the diner down the road, closer to the suburbs. You still keep your apartment in Austin and the commute from the city to there isn’t horrible, but it could be better.

There are long weeks, a few moments when Joel fades from your mind almost completely—but as fate would have it, something would remind you of him.

At first, it was nearly everything.

Coffee in the early mornings when you walked beyond the coffee shop beside the bookstore, the smell of coffee beans like a pavlovian response, heartbeat skipping at the memory of Joel, smiling softly around the rim of his cup as he sipped away. Sometimes so noisy that you know it was only to annoy you.

Or, it’s music. God awful country that had you grimacing at the first note, knowing Joel would be nodding his head along without a problem, somehow managing to find some enjoyment in it. Other times, it’s the music you listened to often, knowing he’d take interest in and probably like himself. Usually you would have a quiet playlist of music playing over the radio in the bookstore and even that takes a few months to feel like less of a thing.

Sometimes, it was nothing at all. A gruff clear of the throat could make you think Joel was in your presence, the sight of that green flannel he never took off, worn on a body that didn’t belong to him.

You’d like to think that Joel didn’t matter to you. That he didn’t matter at all.

But, that was so far from what was believable.

And to his credit, he does get you the money for the cabin refunded.

It comes a few weeks after you arrive back in Austin, toward the end of January. It didn’t have any other note than a ‘Sorry for the inconvenience over the holiday and that you couldn't stay—here's your refund for the cabin’. So, essentially, Joel had lied to them.

You couldn’t even blame him, really. He’d done well on his promise.

For Joel, there are waves of intensity when he thinks of you.

He doesn’t go out often anymore, keeping himself inside rather than finding a reason to go out on weekends and late nights after a rough day at work—he’s found easier ways to cope with the loneliness, taking up his wood carving more seriously. He set up a small area in his bedroom that he spends most of his time in now, carving out and selling personalized items for extra money on the side.

Sarah had to explain him through setting up his own shop online over the phone, but once it was said and done, he was able to manage fine.

And, maybe it was some other-worldly being sending him a gift, but a few months after he arrives back in Austin, still reeling, he gets a call from Sarah—mostly her crying and a lot of Joel consoling her down to an understandable, calmer state. In that time, he learns of just how much has changed since he’d went away for that month and in the short period that he didn’t have contact with Sarah due to her mother and her resistance to allowing Joel any leeway or fairness in their strained relationship, if you could call it that.

Sarah was hysterical, going on and on about how she was never going to see him again.

“Babygirl, slow down, please,” He begged, struggling to make out anything beyond the sobs, “I can’t understand you when you’re cryin’ like that. Are you okay?”

“I’m—I’m not supposed to call you.” She stammers, her cries dying out slowly, “She said I was grounded and took my phone but dad—she’s going to get me in trouble when she finds out that–that I called you.”

“That’s not possible, alright?” He tells her, trying to remain level-headed, “You can call me anytime you want, you know that.”

“She—She won’t tell you,” Sarah’s voice is hushed, like she’s hiding and trying not to get caught as she talks over the other line, “but mom got a new job, it’s in Las Vegas.”

Joel feels the anger beginning to build quickly, having a faint idea where this was heading but not wanting to direct any of it toward his daughter.

“Baby, go find your mom and put her on the phone.” He tells her soft but stern, feeling his phone pop under his grip, hoping that he hadn’t cracked it, but trying to simmer down his rage for his own good.

“She’s gonna be mad, dad.”

“Sarah,” He tells her once, and it’s enough, “Get your mom.”

The talk doesn’t go well, but it also doesn’t go horrible either.

“You’re not takin’ her from me,” It’s the first thing he says, not allowing a word from her as he hears her breath over the phone, “and you’re not gonna get her in trouble for tellin’ me either.”

“Joel—”

“No, I don’t want to hear what excuses you have this time.” He continues, “We have a custody agreement—you break that, I’m takin’ you to court without a goddamn second of hesitation. You already keep her enough from me as is, knowing she likes it here more. You’re never around, you leave her with a nanny all the fuckin’ time. And you want to up and move out of the state without tellin’ me?”

“I was gonna tell you—”

“What, when you were already moved?” Joel retorts, “That why you took Sarah’s phone away, because she was tryin’ to warn me about all this? You’ve got a lot of fuckin’ nerve to think you can just take her like that.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t been so irresponsible you would have her more. It’s not my fault you made choices that endangered our daughter and uprooted my plans, having to become the sole provider because you’re goddamn alcoholic—”

“Look, I know the choices I made. I’ve paid for them, for years now. It was one—one fuckin’ time in my life. If you think I’m gonna let you take her from me now, like that, you’ve lost your mind. I will take you to court over this.”

In the end, it does end up going through the process of rearranging custody—Joel no longer tied down by his charges and his willingness to openly test as asked, whenever, and that he take primary custody of her in the weeks that her mother would be away in Nevada for work, which ended up being about a week within every month.

It’s a big shift for Joel, but one he takes on willingly and with so much confidence that it doesn’t phase him, in fact, it feels like nothing has changed. Just that Sarah is a constant in his life, physically, rather than something out of his reach.

By July, she’s with him full-time when she’s not with her mother, and even those weeks are often cut short, called off for emergencies and ultimately ending with Joel having to pick her up after a few days—it didn’t bother him, it never would.

And he’s thankful for Sarah, because she occupies his mind entirely.

He feels bad for the days he doesn’t think of you at all, so wound up in his own daily life and routine that he doesn’t even have a minute to think about anything else—but, maybe it was better that way.

But, there’s a brief moment when the first snowfall happens that year, later in November around the time that Sarah is taking a break from school for the holidays, that she hits him with a question he doesn’t expect, nor does he understand how she even came to the conclusion in her own mind.

“Hey, dad,” She speaks curiously, head turned to him over the couch to look at him where he stood in the kitchen, “who took that picture last year that you sent?”

“What are you talkin’ bout, babygirl?” He asks, standing over the stove as he cooked dinner, lounging in his pajamas and cooking something of a semblance of what could be Thanksgiving–but, it was just him, Sarah, and Tommy, so it wasn’t as extravagant as it needed to be.

“That picture of you with the snowman last year—for Christmas?” Her eyes are searching his face, not for an answer but rather because she has that innocence that children and young teen hold, the obliviousness to everything but what is going in their world—Joel shakes his head, your face flashing in his mind as he white knuckles the spoon he’s using to stir and thinks about lying.

He wants to lie. He should.

But, he can’t remember a time he’s ever lied to Sarah outside of something for her own protection—and this was something Joel thought of fondly, his time shared with you.

So, he doesn’t lie.

“I, uh—met a friend there. She helped me out and took a picture to make sure I could send somethin’ to you, seein’ as I didn’t get to spend the time I wanted with you last year.”

“Oh,” Sarah chews at the inside of her cheek, “a girl?”

“Yes, babygirl.”

Sarah nods—the meticulous and intelligent child she is, she catches the lingering smile on Joel’s face and leans in, arm slung over the back of the couch as she asked another question.

“So, when you say friend—” She purses her lips together, eyes squinting with accusation

“Sarah.” It’s a warning to ease off, but if anything, it makes her giggle.

“Oh, so, not a friend.” She surmises, “Got it.”

She was too damn smart for her own good.

“Do you still talk to her?” She asks, fully aware of how things were with Joel and her mother, that they didn’t get along from the jump despite their willingness to work together to make sure she had some semblance of a normal childhood with both parents in the picture—it was never the way she wanted it to be, but it was out of her control.

She was fourteen now, she had the right to understand things. She questioned Joel everyday, sometimes about things even he didn’t understand. And he’s thankful to have her around, knowing she keeps him on his toes, never knowing what to expect.

“No, babygirl. I don’t.”

Joel’s bitterness about it isn’t evident in his voice, but she sees it in the way his eyes flick away briefly, toward his room. But, the knock at the door is a lifesaver, pulling them both out of the moment.

“Should be uncle Tommy, get the door.” He tells her.

She doesn’t ask about it again, thankfully. Joel doesn’t know how much more he could handle explaining to her, knowing you were only a memory to him now.

Christmas comes quick too, the year flying by as Joel switches into full dad mode without a single hesitation. School, sports, teenagers—it’s a big change but he handles it with as much ease as he can, along with work and everything else he’s taken on.

“Dad, you remember that bookstore we passed the other day?” Sarah asks, bugging her dad from the passenger seat as they leave their third store for the day, giving Sarah free-range to spend her money she’d accumulated over the holiday. “Next to that coffee shop you like to go to sometimes.”

“Yeah—that your last stop for the day?” Joel asks curiously, but also silently hoping she’d agree, exhausted out of his mind and ready to take a nap on the couch the moment they got home–a mix of older age and being a parent, never feeling like the sleep he got was enough.

“Yes, I promise.” Sarah smiles, settling into her seat comfortably and clicking the seatbelt into place.

Luckily, it isn’t too far of a drive from where they were, a few blocks down and a couple of turns later and Joel is taking an open parking spot in front of the coffee shop, not anticipating how busy the bookstore would be and Sarah can see it all over Joel’s face.

“People still read, dad.” Sarah chides, “You know that, right?”

‘Course I do, smartass.”

He was well aware of a certain someone’s reading habits.

The day after Christmas is almost never calm, packed to the brim with kids eager to spend their parent’s money on books and toys and things that would inevitably get trashed or lost eventually—but it’s nice. The shift will fly by, you’ll make a lot of children happy, and you’ll go home. An easy day.

So easy that it seemed too good to be true.

You find a lull in the rush, slipping into the backroom to grab a box of books for reshelving, too busy in your own head as your crouched on the floor behind the counter to open the box, unaware of the presence of a couple customers that loomed near the front entrance, circling a trove of books while a crowd of others filtered out through the front doors. The bells ring and despite looking, you still let out the normal greeting and a few kind words.

“Welcome in, I’ll be with you in a minute.” You say sweetly, tucked away and out of sight.

“Oh, that’s alright—my daughter is just havin’ a look around.”

And if there was a surefire way to make your heart stop—it was that voice.

That voice you knew so well that there wasn’t even the smallest doubt in your mind.

You take a deep breath, lugging the open box in your arms as you haul it to a nearby table and Joel doesn’t even think before he’s offering to help, still blissfully unaware of the trap he’s set himself up in, only freezing when you push his hand away gently.

“I’ve got it, Joel.” You say softly, your face tilting up into view and his eyes pulling to yours in an instant, the mix of panic and relief setting in at the same time—the feeling so intense he almost forgets where he is. “It’s fine.”

Joel clears his throat, glancing over at Sarah who is a few aisle deep, in her own world as she sifted through the selection of books.

“Well, I guess you found me.” You said playfully, a way to ease the worry that you could see crossing his face, thinking that he’d crossed a line unknowingly. Joel never asked where you worked, never even put together the connection or possibility that you could work in a bookstore this close to his home, the area he visited almost weekly. He’s gotten coffee next door more times than he can count on two hands and the idea that you were just a few feet out of reach—something dies inside of him. “Hey.”

His fist curls, restraining the instinct to reach out and touch you, held tight at his side as he trades a few quick looks between you and Sarah, like he’s fighting a losing battle within him.

It’s been a year. A year since he’s seen you, months since he’s thought about you like he did those first few weeks, vivid dreams like he was back in the cabin all over again. It all rushes back in an instant and you can see it in the trading gaze you share, your breath shallowing, slightly turning away to continue the task at hand, organizing the books in neat piles. Joel looks on the brink of saying something again before a young girl, bright and shining smile and ringlet curls that frame her face perfectly, bouncing at her shoulders as she comes to stand beside Joel.

Sarah. This was Sarah.

“Dad, come on,” She yanks at his wrist, fingers curling around his forearm, “I need you to carry the books I wanna buy.”

“O—okay, babygirl.” He nods, a responding touch as he placates her impatience and nods, “Let’s go.”

And when he leaves, even if it was just briefly, you have a moment to breathe. It stings, eyes squeezing closed as you force away the threat of burning tears, staring out at busy street to force yourself to think about anything but Joel—you were finally at a place where things felt normal, like you hadn’t been reeling over him for most of this time.

The roles were switched, where Joel should’ve been the one still caught up with the idea you, he was moved on and focused on other things—but you, it was the most intense heartache you’ve ever felt seeing him again.

He’s so much softer around her—a color to him that radiates around him. He hasn’t changed in the sense that he mostly appears the same. Same ridiculous flannel over a plain shirt, straight-cut jeans over heavy boots, for work or not. That same watch snug around his wrist, hair slightly grown out and curling at the ends, facial hair in full force.

It was like no time had passed.

But clearly, so much had.

Eventually you wrap up, hiding behind the counter again as you store the empty box away, tapping mindlessly at the surface of the counter as you try not to look his way and fail, catching his gaze everytime. He was looking at you too and he couldn’t stop—looking helpless as he hauled a mountain of books in his arm, pulled along by the younger girl.

Time passes slow, feeling torturous until Joel and Sarah finally make their way to the front counter, a forced smile flashing across your face that no one would be able to see through—it was perfected for times like these, feeling so out of your body that you worked on auto-pilot, scanning the books with a few off-hand compliments of how much you loved a certain one or if you enjoyed it, earning an innocent giggle from Sarah.

Joel smiles subtly, a hand on Sarah’s shoulder as he squeezes.

You note it, glancing up at Joel kindly.

He was happier, so much happier than you met him a year ago. And you had a good idea why.

You read out the total and Sarah hands over a wad of cash that you sift through, gathering her change and carefully placing her books in the paper bag, listening to Joel and Sarah’s idle conversation.

“Oh, can we stop at the coffee shop next door that you like to go to?” Sarah asks, “Please? Last stop, I promise.”

It hurts, the instant it leaves her mouth you feel the way Joel locks his eyes on you.

He’s been there, right under your nose this entire time.

How long? How long had this been going on? Before? After?

The coincidence of Joel being the one in that cabinet seemed insignificant then, but not now.

“Yeah—yeah, uh—can you wait in the truck for me?” He asks, praying she doesn’t ask any more questions. “I’m gonna check if they have somethin’ real quick.”

Sarah eyes him weirdly, glancing at you briefly before she shrugs. “Okay.”

Joel watches her leave, waits until she’s in the truck and out of sight before he speaks.

“I didn’t know.” Joel says immediately, “I swear—god, if I would’ve just—”

“Hey,” You stop him, placing a hand against his palm that is pressed flat against the counter, “you’re fine. It’s okay.”

Were you okay? No.

Working so hard to get him out of your mind was all for naught now, his palm turning face up to curl around your own briefly, his eyes flicking up slightly.

“I gotta go or she’s gonna bite my head off,” He tells you, but is quickly reaching for something in his back pocket.

His phone, which he swiftly slides across the table.

Is he asking for your number? Duh, of course he is.

“Just—in case you need anything.” Joel offers lamely, but you take it. “I—I thought you said you lived in the city?”

“I do,” You punch your number in quickly, without hesitation, “doesn’t mean I work there too.”

Fair point.

He wants to talk. You can see it on his face.

But, not here. Not like this.

He swipes his phone back, pocketing it with his free hand. And he nearly slips his hand from your own before you’re gripping him tight, holding him prisoner under your gaze.

“I’m free,” You tell him quickly, “L-later, after seven. Just—just text me, okay?”

The please felt too strong, so you restrain it in your mind.

A year—an entire fucking year. Wasted. There were so many questions you had, so many things you wanted answered. But, more importantly, you just wanted Joel.

Joel in whatever form he could offer, even if that was just a few minutes of his time after your shift, just for closure. Closure was all you needed to get over him.

“Got it, darlin.” He nods, pulling his hand from your grip gently. “I’ll be seein’ you.”

At least this time it was true.

Joel’s never been so thankful for Tommy in his life, cancelling his plans at the drop of hat for Sarah—which, given that it was his favorite and only niece, it was never an issue.

Joel didn’t like the idea of leaving her alone, even at her age, and having Tommy around offered some peace of mind—but it also led to a line of questioning Joel wasn’t ready to answer.

“Got a hot date then?” Tommy jokes when he shows up at his front door later that evening, “Who is it?”

Joel closes the door with a silent click as he ignores his brother, walking back into the kitchen to pocket his car keys and sending a quick text to your number.

Joel: Now a good time?

You: I’m closing but I’ll be off in the next half hour.

Joel: Okay.

He was leaving already anyways, his mind itching for answers to lingering questions and the urge to be near you again after so long—his once clear head now filled with the thought of you, distant memories now vivid scenes playing in his head.

“Give me a couple hours,” Joel tells him, “that’s it—Sarah’s in her room, doubt she’ll come out for the rest of the night.”

Tommy raises an eyebrow in question, searching in the fridge for a beer he won’t find—it was a bad habit he was trying to break himself, so he settles on a can of soda and taps the top of the aluminum can before opening it.

“Some kind of project—I don’t know,” He didn’t try to understand anymore, Sarah was always working on something and Joel didn’t need to know everything, so he let it be, “just two hours, alright?”

“Got it, brother.” He tips the can gently in a way of saying get the fuck on already and leave, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

As if there was anything Tommy wouldn’t.

Joel rolls his eyes and leaves without another word.

When he pulls up around the back of the line of shops, the lights are already off in the surrounding businesses and he can spot a shadow by the backdoor, fumbling with a doorknob. He rolls down his window so you can see his face, like you might’ve forgotten the truck he drove—the same hunk of metal he brought with him then.

When you turn, you spot him with a smile. You hold up a finger in wait as you toss you belongings in your car, quickly locking the vehicle and pocketing your own keys into your jacket as you made your way to his truck, brimming with anxiety and uncertainty as you climbed inside, welcomed by the warmth of the air coming from the car vents, settling in as comfortably as you could.

It was exactly the same, aside from a small picture of Joel and Sarah that hung around the rearview mirror—it looked new, it had to be. You smile again, unsure and awkward.

“So, uh—”

“I didn’t know.” Joel quickly interrupts, easing the curiousness you had around the one question you were terrified to ask.

Had he known the entire time? Had he just been avoiding you until he couldn’t anymore? It seemed unlikely, but the doubt slipped in regardless.

You nod slowly, squeezing your hands together, the cold still prickling your skin uncomfortably.

Joel notices, turning in his seat to reach toward the back, pulling out a spare blanket he kept in the back for no particular reason other than just to have it—but suddenly he’s eternally thankful that it’s there.

“Thank you, Joel.” You tell him, draping it over your crossed legs.

He’s missed the way you say his name so gently, like he wasn’t the monster he constantly viewed himself as.

“Do you wanna go somewhere?” Joel asks softly, hand gripping the steering wheel firmly, the other resting relaxed against his thigh.

“Uh, sure—I don’t really feel like going anywhere public, if that’s okay.” You tell him honestly, “I’ve been around people all day and I just need a minute.”

Joel understands, “I got the perfect spot for that, darlin’.”

And for a moment, you’re shifted back to before, the gentle smile he throws your way like a sudden flash of the Joel you’re familiar with.

Joel found the spot by accident, really. Years ago. It was on the outskirts of the neighborhood he lived in, a small cutoff near a flock of trees that led out to a larger opening and a small cliff—only a few feet of a drop off, but it granted a nice view of the city and businesses that lined the surrounding neighborhoods. And luckily, on a night like tonight with no glow of the moon to cast down, they were nearly invisible from where Joel had parked under a hanging tree, turning his truck off with finality as they were soon shrouded in darkness and silence, only the luminescence from the nearby streetlights allowing some type of visibility.

“So, how has your holiday been? With Sarah and all?”

You knew it was his turn this year, he’d explained that much. You felt terrible for pulling him away from her, even if it was just for a brief, selfish moment.

Joel laughs quietly, fumbling with his keys in his hands.

“Yeah, about that—” Joel doesn’t see why he needs to make up an excuse or be vague, considering how much you knew then and how much you know now, so he tells you, “she’s been with me since around the end of summer, not full time but mostly—to answer your question though, it’s been good.”

“O-Oh, and that’s…good, too. I’m hoping?” You ask hesitantly.

“Her mom was tryin’ to move without lettin’ me know—Sarah told me because she was scared. It was a long process but we eventually worked out an agreement with stipulations. Regardless, I’m happy with how things are now. Her mom was never around much for her anyways—like she was more of a chore to her than anything.”

“You deserve her, Joel. Sarah. I think she’s good for you, being around and stuff.” You tell him, despite how much you didn’t know or understand. He seemed lighter, happier, less burdened by his own thoughts.

“Thanks,” He says softly, “—and you, how have you been?”

He drops his keys in the cupholder and turns more toward you, knee hiked up slightly onto the seat—mimicking his actions you move too, feeling like you were back on the couch in the cabin, amped up and ready to talk for hours about nothing and everything.

“I’ve been okay,” You pull at the sleeve of your jacket, running your finger along the pattern of your sleeve, the bumps in the stitching, “I spent Christmas Eve with my parents, if that’s any indication.”

Joel smiles wider than, knowing you listened and took his advice.

He was lucky to have a second chance—sometimes that’s all anyone needed.

“I missed you—” You utter quietly, overwhelmed with the feelings as you look away, eyes turned downwards and stinging with tears that you couldn’t stop from flowing, blinking them away and wiping at the even quicker, “fuck, I’m sorry.”

Joel has an arm open to you silently when you look up, no pestering or ordering you around, allowing you to make the choose to seek comfort from him if you felt comfortable with it, knowing that a year without someone was a long time—and even longer when you had no inclination of ever seeing that person again.

But really, there was no way you would have been able to avoid each other any longer.

This had to mean something.

You scoot into his arms, adjusting the blanket over the both of you and crying quietly, the low hum of the wind picking up outside of the truck causing the cab to sway slightly. Joel squeezes you gently, hand tucked and curled around your bicep.

“It took me months to stop thinking about you,” You admit, “I tried—so hard, nothing worked. And then the one day that I don’t have a moment to stop and let my mind think, you walked in. What the fuck does that mean, Joel?”

Joel wipes your tears wordlessly, letting the emotion flow through you, feeling a rush of them all at once. He had learned to bury his own, keeping that steely gaze as he tried to remain steady for you, like an anchor.

“You know–Sarah asked about you a few weeks ago,” Joel tells you suddenly, pulling your gaze up to him in subtle shock, “not—not like that. She doesn’t know about you, but she asked about that picture, about who took it. I didn’t even think about that at the time, but she’s so damn intuitive.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her what she should hear,” Joel explains, “That I had a friend there—’course she knew it wasn’t just that. But, she’s young. She doesn’t need to know about any of that.”

You nod quietly and Joel sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I just—I feel guilty for being so caught up in all of the shit going on in my life that I haven’t thought about you in so long. But, then I saw you today and it’s like my brain can’t focus on anything else. And I know if I let this go it would bother me more.”

“So, you need closure?” You ask hesitantly, wondering if that was the purpose of this.

And you could accept that. You would have to, no matter how much it hurt to do.

Joel’s brow furrows in frustration, “No—no, that’s not even—”

Joel sighs again, heavily through his nose.

“Darlin’, I don’t know what I want anymore.”

You stare up at him sadly, chewing at the inside of your bottom lip as he looks down at you too, looking just as distraught.

He does know one thing he wants, but he’s not sure in what capacity he was allowed to have it—after all, you did say that he and you would never work in the real world.

Those words were more apparent than ever, Joel feeling forced to hide you. He didn’t want that, he couldn’t live like that. But, here he was—staring you down with nothing else on his mind other than the urge to kiss you, consume you, and keep you here with him for as long as he could.

He didn’t want to let you go again.

You need him to kiss you, hoping that the desperation in your eyes comes across to him, feeds him the signs he’s so desperately seeking and that you could pretend this could work for a brief time.

Neither of you ask, instead you both move at the same time. Lips connecting in a gentle kiss that is riddled with hesitancy, Joel’s hand slowly coming up to cup your cheek. The press of soft flesh against each other, inhaling sharply as you parted briefly before returning the kiss more forcefully, leaving Joel desperate to have you around him. He’s pulling at your arm, hoping that his silent conveyance of urgency will help.

You hike your leg over his, spreading yourself out over his lap easily, lips never disconnecting, too caught up in the moment to allow for even the smallest breath of air, kisses traded in a messy battle as Joel squeezes and grabs, like he’s trying to memorize you again, leaving no part of you untouched.

“What do you want, Joel?” You ask through a slew of kisses, finally able to fist his shirt and push him away a few inches, catching his lustful gaze, pupils dilated.

“Baby��I,” He chuckles, a sad noise that doesn’t come across as humorous, your head cradled between his hands, thumbs rubbing at the underside of your jaw, “I’m used to wanting things I can’t have. This ain’t new to me.”

You don’t speak, feeling he has more to say as he kisses you once more, a slow and passionate press of your lips before he parts again, briefly.

“My luck has changed. I’m aware. And everything in me is tellin’ me to push it and hope that I won’t have to let you go again, but that isn’t up to me.”

“There’s things you can’t separate yourself from, you know that.” You tell him, “And if you tie yourself to me, the things people will say about you—that they’ll say about me. You can’t be okay with that, can you?”

“I don’t care about them or any of that,” Joel tells you honestly, “the only thing I care about is the people in my life—baby, I want you in my life. Doesn’t matter how. But, if we cut ties here, tonight. I can’t do this anymore. I’m done. I worked so hard to stop thinking about you and I can throw that away for some half-assed closure.”

Sex. He meant sex, knowing you both were already halfway to the point of thinking it.

“I just—how do we know if this is real?” You question him.

It’s a valid thing to worry about, knowing how different things are on the outside, not miles away in a cabin that was only accessible to the both of you.

“I can show you, if you give this a chance.” Joel counters—and you try to search his face for any sign of hesitancy or uncertainness about you, but all it bleeds is adoration.

Something akin to love but not quite.

“How about a date first?” You ask softly.

Joel laughs heartily now, letting you slump against him as your foreheads pressed together.

“Alright, a date first.” Joel agrees.

“Think you can handle that?” You tease.

“Baby, I can handle you just fine.”

It isn’t what you’re asking, but the answer makes your heart thump rapidly all the same. You weren’t sure where this would lead, but you were willing to take that risk for Joel.

Thank you for anyone who has stuck with this all the way through with my weekly posting or anyone who is binge-reading this all at once and has finally reached this chapter! I appreciate you, thank you (again), and please always feel free to come yell at me!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x fem!reader #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #my writing #MMITW #pedrostories

329 notes · View notes

lean-ground-beefro · 11 months ago

Text

welcome to the stage...

a Joel Miller one shot: Flip the Switch

Pairing: CEO!Joel Miller x F!Reader Prompt from @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog:

𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 =Santa!Joel x elf!reader 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕥 = you’ve been a lazy elf so Santa Joel punishes you

Summary: You've been tasked with being Joel's 'Helper Elf' at this year's Christmas Party and good god do you hate your job... Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) Word Count: 3,562 Content Warning: DubCon, Smutty smutty smut smut, fingering (f receiving), p in the v - unwrapped, degradation, power plays, power imbalance, boss / employee dynamic, swiches, dom/sub dynamic, name calling, couch fucking Author's Notes: I am @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog's Secret Santa and I am so sorry for how late this is, bb! I am thankful for you and I hope you enjoy my first foray our of the chubby universe.

Thank you to @softpascalito, @theywhowriteandknowthings & @neverwheremoonchild for their eyes and beta skills. 💜🥦💜

Santa-baby-I've-been-an-swful-good-girl regards,

Beefro👌🥦💜

--------<3----------

When you’d been asked to dress as Joel’s ‘Helper Elf’ to his ‘CEO Santa’, you’d scoffed at the idea, already planning on resigning from being one of his company’s administrative assistants. You were tired of the long hours and being worked to the bone for very little pay and respect, but you decided to hold off to see the shitshow that the company’s Christmas party would be since Joel himself was in charge of planning it.

Joel was an egotistical brute who had no business being allowed to mingle with people in an enclosed space. His only saving graces were his brother, Tommy – CFO and President, and the only one who could rein him in - and his stupidly handsome, brooding good looks. He infuriated you; he knew he could get away with just about anything because he was the boss and most of the peons were scared shitless of his brutal tirades being directed at them. He threw it in almost anyone’s face how loaded he was and that he owned them. You hated him as much as you loved how quickly you came on your vibrator when though about his voice, his eyes, his hands that were burned into your memory. Fuck Joel Miller and fuck his cocky fucking smirk.

The day of the party you’d been given a cheap, sleezy looking elf costume with an email soon landing in your inbox with instructions to wear it that night, along with what your duties would be. Rolling your eyes, you read the email and realized that you would be spending the entire evening at Joel’s side, truly being his ‘Helper Elf’. You were to make sure he knew every person’s name (you rolled your eyes because if he really gave a shit about the people who worked for him, he’d already know their names), make sure he had food and a drink available to him all night (great – you were going to be a glorified personal waitress for the douchebag), make sure the event ran smoothly (as the one who apparently planned the event, why was this up to you?), had out gifts as ‘Santa’s Helper’ to the employees (groan…), and lastly, keep him company throughout the evening.

The whole thing made you rethink waiting to quit and you huffed, looking down at the cheap, probably highly flammable, elf costume on your desk.

“Fuck it.”, you groaned, picking it up and shoving it into your purse and heading to the bathroom to change.

*****

You were silently cheering yourself on. All evening, you’d made a conscious decision to be as annoying and useless as possible for Joel, and boy oh boy!, you’d gotten under his skin. Two hours into the party, and Joel had gone to get his third refill at the bar because you weren’t ‘paying attention’ and he’d also missed out on most of the buffet because you ‘forgot’ to get him a plate. You’d also managed to ‘unknowingly’ give him several wrong names, making him look like an ass towards several employees who’s names he really should have known. When it came time to hand out presents, you conveniently were ‘required’ to make yourself scarce and were unable to help.

While he’d barely said more than a few sentences to you, his scowl said everything you needed to be satisfied. At this point, you’d had more than a few drinks, and while you still maintained your professionalism, you’d stopped adjusting your skimpy elf costume and let it ride up higher on your thigh as you sat next to Joel. You’d caught him looking down at your bare lap more than once, making you grin to yourself.

*****

You had to give him his due; Joel had managed to put on a not-mediocre, standard office Christmas party. It was more than you thought he was capable of. That, and the fact that he kept the stupid Santa suit on the entire evening and posed for pictures with anyone who asked. You swear you might have even seen a genuine smile on his face when his brother came up for a picture dressed as a reindeer.

What really made you happy though was when Tommy asked Joel how his night was going, and you heard him respond, “Strapped me with a lazy fuckin’ elf, Tommy…” as his face held a cold sneer.

Right under that smile was the asshole who you’d found so much delight in needling all night.

By the time the party wrapped up, you figured you’d done your duty and you’d be free to go home and continue the party with a cheap bottle of wine and your cat. Everyone else had left and as you grabbed your bag from under the table, you heard Joel’s telltale stomps come up behind you. Before you could turn around, he had his hands on your waist, pushing you against the table.

“Think you’re bein’ cute, sugar?”, he growled into your ear.

“The fuck are you doing?!”, you snapped back, trying to wriggle out of his grasp more out of surprise than disgust.

He held you tighter, his thick fingers digging into your waist, and you could feel your panties getting wet.

“Don’t you fuckin’ move… can you follow that fuckin’ direction?”

“Oh Jesus! Just fuck off!”, you snarled back, again, trying halfheartedly to remove his hands from you, but hoping he didn’t let go.

He grunted as you shoved him back and turned around. You both stood and glared at each other, daring the other to make the first move. A small, menacing grin spread on Joel’s face as he took a few slow steps towards you.

“No one’s fucked the Christmas spirit into you yet, sugar?”, he growled, licking his lips and roughly pushing you back onto the table.

“Oh, fuck you! You couldn’t fuck a quack into a duck, you asshole.”

He raised his eyebrow at you and gave you a warning look before roughly gripping your chin and forcing you to look up at him. He brought his face close to you and stared down at you meanly.

“You’re a shitty helper elf. Don’t you dare be a shitty lay, too.”

Before you could respond, he hoisted you up on the table, shoved the skirt of your dress up around your waist and pushed his fingers against your clothed core, making you let out an involuntary moan and a buck of your hips.

“Fuckin’ sweet, sugar…”, he purred, eyeing you with a grin.

You rolled your eyes and groaned against his touch. “You’re a disgusting old man, Miller.”

“Fuck, you’ve got a nasty little mouth on you…”, he murmured with a devilish grin as he pushed your legs apart and stood between them.

You swallowed hard as he grasped your neck. His other hand’s fingers moved between you and his eyes fluttered. He groaned when he felt how wet you were through your panties.

“Fuckin’ eh, sugar…”, he cooed, returning his softer gaze towards you. “You wet for daddy?”

You sucked in a breath as he circled your covered clit with his index finger, and tried to sound as firm as you could. “Fuck off with that ‘daddy’ shit, Miller.”

He tsk’d you, griping your throat tighter. “You and your mouth, sugar…”, he chuckled, watching you squirm, then growled. “You’re gonna be begging me to be your daddy when I’m done with you.”

That was it. This man had fucked around enough with you as your boss and now he wanted to demean you like this? Pulling yourself together, you pushed his chest and shoved him off you with all your might and before he could pounce on you again, you quickly moved to the side, causing him to lean over the table.

You shoved him forward, and to your surprise, he didn’t resist. Instead, he chuckled. “What’re you gonna – “

It infuriated you that despite your rejection of him, he was still smiling and seemingly enjoying himself.

“Just shut up!”, you snarled back, snaking your hand around his front and gripping his infuriatingly impressive cock through his cheap, fuzzy red pants.

“You fuckin’ shit… you’ll never be my daddy…” You could feel him get harder as you growled into his ear. “Too fuckin’ old to even pin me down…”

“Ungh…sugar… oh fuck…”, he panted, rutting his hips and griding his cock against your hands.

The fact that Joel was getting off to your less-than-kind words was not lost on you and you scoffed.

“This how you’re gonna get off, Joel?”, you cooed coldly into his ear as he panted. “Big tough Miller gets off to girls telling him no?”

“Please… sugar… fuck… please…”

“That the best you can do? You’re pathetic, you know that?”, you snapped at him as you shoved the front of his pants down, freeing his cock.

You stood back and tugged his arm, signalling him to turn over, and when he did, his cock did not disappoint. He was huge and the head was angry and weeping. He watched your face, eyes staring in wonderment at his dick as your mouth parted, jaw going slack. He grinned and chuckled, causing your eyes to meet his, only making you angrier with him.

“Fuck you, Miller!”

“Calm down, sugar… not the first whore to get cock dumb on me…”, he cooed, still with a smug grin on his face. He reached out trying to pull your hand to his member.

You yanked your hand away and spat into your palm before gripping his cock and starting to jerk him.

“Fuck you, Miller.”, you seethed lowly. “Fuck you and your fuckin’ smug face.”

“Why you – fuck… why you so pissed, sugar?”

“You’re such a pompous dick! So fuckin’ arrogant and you’re a shit boss.”, you fumed, continuing to pump his cock, causing him to pant. “Throwin’ your money in people’s faces, not knowing their names… someone better put you on your place, Miller. After tonight, I quit, you smug fuck!”

It was like a switch flipped; he snapped out of his submissive and amused state as soon as the words left your mouth. He gripped your wrist, ripping it off his cock and sat up, his other hand going around your throat.

“I don’t think so, sugar. You’re not going anywhere.”

He stood up, holding your wrist and throat, and guided you backwards to the couch and pushed you down on it. You fell back, your legs parted, and he took advantage of this. Joel leaned over you, pushed your panties to the side, and shoved two of his thick fingers into your sopping wet cunt, causing you to yelp.

“You can take it, sugar.”, he smiled menacingly at you, then growled through clenched teeth, “And you’re gonna take it.”

He pounded up into you with one hand while the other gripped your hair in his fist. The sounds that came from your mouth were foreign to you. Yeah, you liked it rough, but this was different. This was your soon-to-be former boss, finger banging you on a couch after a Christmas party and after you’d just about had him wailing your name. You had no idea what had happened to flip him, and before you could get too deep into your thoughts, he hit the perfect spot. That sweet, spongy spot in your pussy that less than half the me you’d fucked had even accidentally grazed, and here was Joel, repeatedly hitting it like it was a doorbell it was an emergency house call.

“Oh fuck!... right th - yes!... fuck… Joel, there… yes!”

As you felt your walls start to flutter and when that white hot heat started its ascent, he pulled away, grin on his lips.

You sat up on your elbows and looked at him, mouth open and eyes pleading. “What are y-?”

“Fuck you, that’s what.”, he grunted with a grin, shoving his slick fingers into his mouth and sucking.

You could only stare up at him in response. When he finally deemed his fingers clean, he pulled them out of his mouth with a pop and grinned at you.

“Tell you what, sugar. You take back what you said, and I’ll fuck you right here on this couch like you deserve.”

Confused, you continued to lookup at him until it dawned on you.

“You want me to not quit?”

He nodded, grin dropping from his face.

“You think I worked Tommy over to let you be my fuckin’ ‘Elf’ and put up with your bullshit attitude tonight for you to just quit on me, sugar?”, he asked lowly, leaning over you, pinning your head between his elbows.

“Think I haven’t watched that fuckin’ body of yours sashay ‘round the office and had to fuck my fist when I finally got alone?”, he crooned is a husky whisper, pressing his hot mouth on your neck and alternating between licking and nipping your skin. “Think I don’t notice your ass in those skintight skirts and imagine you sittin’ on my face?”

You let out a moan and gripped his shoulders, trying to pull him further into you. He quickly pulled back and sat up on his knee packed between your open legs, and grabbed your hands.

“I’m not hearin’ what I need to, sugar…”

You were frustrated and needy, hating that he had gotten the upper hand on you. Stubbornly, you shook your head.

“Fuck you, Miller. You’re a shit boss and a shit person and I’m not gonna let you fuck around and get nothin’ in return!”

His eyes darkened and his frown hardened into a scowl. He gripped your chin, pulling you up to him as he leaned down to you, feeling his hot breath on your face.

“Listen here, you little bitch. If that’s what you really want, I’ll send you outta here with my fuckin’ bastard in your belly whether you like it or not as a reminder of what you fucked up.”, he growled, holding you stare as if to challenge you.

You could feel your slick flowing from you, dripping out of your cunt and down your crack. Your mind and body were screaming ‘yes’ and ‘no’ in a pathetic battle with themselves at his threat.

“Or…”, his tone softened, as did his grip on your chin, “you can stay and get a promotion.’”

Your face morphed from pleading to confused again. “A-a promotion?”

“A promotion?”, he mocked. ”Yeah, sugar. A fuckin’ promotion.”

He lazily dragged his hand down your body, slipping it between your legs again and into your panties, and began rubbing small, light circles around your clit. You shifted, brows folding as you fought to keep your breath steady and eyes on him, refusing to break again and beg him again.

“You’re good at your job, and I agree… you don’t get enough for all your hard work. How ‘bout this, baby… you work exclusively for me… be my girl here… my helper elf all year round – minus the shitty, bratty attitude you came here tonight with – and I pay you what you’re worth…”

It took all your strength to not cave right then and there, but you were stubborn. “A personal cocksleeve for the office? How fuckin’ charming.”, you snapped back, in a voice far shakier and breathier than you had hoped it would be.

Joel smiled and chuckled darkly, continuing to tease your clit.

“You keep actin’ like you don’t want this, sugar, but my hand can feel your poor little pussy throbbin’ and needin’ me… and I’m sure your bank account would appreciate my attention as well.”

“Fuck you.”

“I plan on it, baby.”, he grinned menacingly. “But I gotta know how you want it… one last fuck… or…”

He nudged his nose against yours.

“My own, personal, little sugar… who’s so good at her job… and can keep me in my place when she wants… get me on my knees and make me beg… and let me fuck her into submission when I need it.”

When you tried to push up against him, he held you in place, keeping his fingers in your folds and his face close to yours in an act of dominance.

“No… I’m the boss right now, sugar, and I asked you a question. I expect an answer.”

You couldn’t help the whimper that crept out of your throat and that was all Joel needed. He kissed you, softly at first then increasing the fervour, prying your mouth open with his lips and tongue. Teeth and spit helping your faces mash together. The hand he had between your legs moved to his waistband and he pulled it down, again, freeing his cock then gripping it. He pulled back slightly and slid its thick head through your slick.

“Tell me you want it, sugar…”, he grunted, looking at you from under heavy eyelids.

“Fuck…”, you breathed out, your pussy clenching on nothing. “I… of fuckin’ course I want it!”

“Ask nicely, sugar. Drop the attitude.”

“Fuck… please… please, Joel! I want it… I want you… I wanna be… fuck you for making me say it… I wanna get that promoti – aah!.”

Before the last syllable could come from your mouth, Joel pushed your panties aside and shoved his cock into your heat, giving no grace period for you to adjust.

“S’what I thought, sugar.”, he huffed out in a grin.

“Please… oh fuck, please move, Joel!”

“Yeah? Why? ‘Cause your pussy’s too tight for me? ‘Cause you haven’t been fucked by a man with a big dick and bank account?”, he cooed, tilting his hips to push further into you, his tip pressed firmly against your cervix.

“Fuck! Yes… please!”, you yelped, squirming under him. All thoughts of trying to take any control back were being forced out of you by his dick and he knew it.

His smug grin stayed firmly on his face as he pulled out in a painfully slow movement before slamming back in, pushing you further up the couch. He grabbed your hips and held you as he did it again.

“Faster… faster, Joel…”

He shook his head, still grinning. “Uh-uh…”

He kept his slow exit, harsh entry going as he watched your face contort and your cunt clench and release him. You were sure he was just torturing you, but the way he looked down at your face and body mixed with the even pace he was keeping and his size, you knew he knew what he was doing. You could feel the heat building up again, and he could, too.

“That’s it, sugar… I can feel it… come on, baby… lemme have it…”

The wave of your first orgasm hit you, rippling through your body and pulling a long, loud moan from your mouth.

“Oh, good girl!… finally, takin’ directions… good girl…”

He let you start to come down before he picked up your foot, placed a kiss on your ankle and draped it over his shoulder.

“That’s right, sugar… did so good for me, now I’m gonna return the favour.”

He thrusted into you harshly and picked up the speed, forcing your spend out onto both your thighs and his curly thatch of salt and pepper hair that crowned his cock. He pummelled you over and over, bringing you to the cusp of another orgasm and pulled out.

“Turn around… on your knees, sugar.”, he grunted, swatting at you.

You had to fight your trembling body and shaky legs to move, but once you got up on your knees on the couch, back facing Joel, he took over and moved your body into position.

“Now I get it, baby… you behave when you know you’re gettin’ something…”, he chuckled, pushing your face against the cushioned headrest. “Gonna have to get a reward system in place… give you a gold star and a fuck when you do good…”

Before you could return a snappy comeback, he pushed his cock back into you, making the only sound your mouth could produce be a whine.

The angle that he was fucking you in was even better and more intense than before. His grunting and murmured praises filled the room along with the wet, vulgar noises of his cock impaling your cunt. You felt another orgasm coming on, but it was more. Your pants turned to whiny yelps and moans and you felt like something was about to burst.

“Joel… Joel!”

“I know… can feel it… come for me, sugar… come on…”

“Joel… it’s – unhg!... I’m…”

You felt the bubble burst and cried out, collapsing on the couch. Joel let out a grunt-turned-moan at the flood of liquid pouring out of you, holding your hips, and continuing to fuck into you. His thrusts got sloppy and as you leaned on the back of the couch for support, he punched into you one last time, holding your hips against him tightly as he unloaded himself into your pussy with a loud groan.

When you tried to move, his hand moved to your back, soothing over it, as he panted. “Stay put, sugar… just… just stay put.”

You relaxed and laid forward, putting your weight on the couch, and closed your eyes. You could feel his cock twitching in you as it began to soften. His weight shifted and he pressed a kiss between your shoulder blades. The uncharacteristically gentle action made your eyes open abruptly and you sucked in a breath.

Joel’s chuckle reverberated against your back through his chest. “Congrats on your promotion, sugar.”

--------<3----------

TAG LIST:

@theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @blackfemalenerd @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller au #joel miller #🥦#secret santa #secret santa gift

172 notes · View notes

l1llina · 7 months ago

Text

"Huh, me? Like him ?"

Alhaitham x Fem!Reader

18+, Minors dni

Synopsis: The Akademiya is pushing a big project to fight the Abyss Order. You along with the other students are assigned to work on it. This project will bring you and Alhaitham closer.

It’s another day, another day of zoning out. What annoyed you even more was this really stuck up guy in your class. He always seemed to look down on everyone else, including you, and you’re a sensitive bitch so this bothered you a lot.

One day, the school reveals that every student will play a part in building a machine to fight the Abyss Order specifically the Abyss Prince. The pressure and excitement in everyone was of course very high almost overbearing. You couldn’t believe it. This was... amazing. Big ambitious projects with the whole help of the school. The school officially recruited everyone and everyone became an employee for the Akademiya.

Unfortunately, the way they assigned divisions were by class, this was all planned by the day you enrolled. The leader of your division who could order you to do anything he wishes was.. Alhaitham urgh. This went from being your dream to a nightmare.

He actually didn’t put many rules but the goal for that semester was to finish an elemental laser gun. Surprisingly every person in the class had a different role. You received the Casanova role but why did they need one ? At first, you pondered maybe they just didn’t want to hurt your feelings but then you guessed it was because they still lacked sufficient funding for such a project so you were the leader of your own little crew. The marketing crew!

Your job was to convince people to invest in such a project, and honestly who better for the job hah. Additionally the school encouraged the students to actually date and find love within other similar types. You were kind of manipulated into dating the heads of the project. Since production would go up if a Casanova and Leader got along well.

You were “advised accordingly” to go on a date with Alhaitham, your enemy. You didn’t have any romantic/sexual feelings for him before the date but during the date, he seemed a little obsessed, a little too happy to be here.

The Akademiya issued Friday to be a day to deepen relationships between the students. Admittedly they cared more if you had sex. They didn’t give the opportunity to buy condoms, since they hoped the students could bear kids to continue the project if the parents died.

Alhaitham urged you to take a sip of wine, you did out of politeness and out of curiosity to see what he’d do. You didn’t want your gut feeling to be right, to think he’d do something terrible, however when you came to, you were in white lingerie in Alhaitham’s dorm.

“Hey.. Y/N, I’m sure you know why I abused my position of power to get you here. You teased me on purpose huh, wearing that short pencil skirt. I don’t like helping the school with their corrupt ways but I can’t help but want to keep you to myself so let’s bear a child and we’ll rule the school”

He began teasing you, bouncing you on his thigh, you muffled your moans, refusing to yield to this asshole’s demands, but slowly, after being edged for so long, you started losing your rationale and following his demands. He worshipped the body that would give him an heir and the woman who clouded his mind for years.

“I saw how you looked at me in class, such hatred and disgust, there’s nothing more satisfying than triumphing over my enemies but in this case, you’re my doll now and don’t worry doll I’ll make sure to treat you right and please you accordingly”

You thought he’d stop at grinding you on his laps but he got down on his knees and started stuffing your tiny hole and circling your clit with his tongue. Urgh the only thing that’s stopping you from giving yourself to him fully is your pride. If you gave in, he’d win and there’d be no guarantee you’ll find real love with him.

“Why are you still holding back, do you think I’ll hit you ? Insult you ? Never, not to the girl I’ve respected for so long”

“W-What, re-respect hngh..?”

“Yeah, you’re a little stupid but you always kept your promises and showed your hatred for hypocrisy and oppression of the system. You’re exactly my type, I love your character and I hope even after this little stunt, you can find a place in your heart to love me too”

“Al.. I didn’t wanna give in because I don’t like losing.. These past few years, I always thought you were an asshole, even now you’re proving my point but right now I couldn’t care less, you being an asshole also ties with your ambition and I couldn’t find anything more attractive than that, well devotion too but you’re that too so. More so, you’re fucking hot.. Are you kidding me ?”

“So, we’re a thing then ?”

“Yeah.. now fuck me with your cock already, just so you know though I don’t really like kids but I still wanna have sex with you right now”

He plunges his cock and makes you cum many times that night. The next day your dorm changed to Al Haitham’s and you shared a dorm now. Outside of school hours and even during, you would be in his office, dating and fucking him”

At night, you found a new nerd pal to geek out with but he sometimes takes it too far and it ends up in passionate makeout sessions. The next morning, the cycle continues

TBC <3 Pls don't hate me

#al haitham x reader #smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #yandere al haitham #al haitham #fanfic

57 notes · View notes

extralively · 7 months ago

Text

Bringing You Home

Gojo Satoru/Original Female Character NSFW 9,268 words (jfc) Also posted on AO3 Summary: After leaving a boring clan event, Satoru brings Yura with him to his private quarters on the Gojo Estate. Yura gets to snoop a bit in what is essentially Satoru's childhood bedroom, before the two of them actually get started with the, ahem, after-party...

Here's the new oneshot in the Under the Cover of Shadows series! It takes place immediately after chapter 1 of my fic Deeper in the Dark, but it could also be read as standalone. This was also supposed to be just smut, but then I got carried away playing with my headcanons as to what Satoru's childhood was like lmao and it ended up turning into a bit of a character study for him. Also there's smut.

Anyway, enjoy another accidentally long-ass oneshot! I know you guys were asking for this one, so hopefully I can deliver hehe

“Satoru, where are we going?” Yura asked as he tugged her along by the hand. The sounds of the clan event kept getting further away, which—good. Satoru already had enough dealing with annoying clan people for the night, so he was more than looking forward to just being him and Yura alone, and no one else.

“We’re going for a walk,” Satoru told her, shooting her a grin.

Yura had commented a couple of times about finding the Gojo Estate beautiful to look at, and Satoru supposed he couldn’t deny that fact—although, spending most of his childhood confined to this place did little to endear him to it, since for the longest time he simply couldn’t wait until he was free of all this.

He could, however, see the appeal in taking Yura out for a walk around the Estate, especially when there was no one else around. As the head of the clan, the Estate was something that could be considered unequivocally his territory, and there was an odd giddy feeling inside of him at being able to share it with Yura.

“Just for a walk?” Yura asked, an amused glint in her eyes as she looked up at him. She still kept her hand in his as they walked side by side.

“...For now,” Satoru replied, a sly grin of his own spreading across his face. “Let’s just take the scenic route for a little while.”

Yura only hummed in response, looking back to the front. Satoru was guiding them through a covered outdoor pathway, mostly due to the snow piled up on the ground. Small snowflakes still floated down from the sky every now and then, coating everything in a layer of white, and Satoru briefly lamented that the scenery around these parts was usually prettier during the spring.

Well, he would just have to bring Yura here again some other time, he thought to himself.

A chilly gust of wind passed by, and he felt Yura shiver next to him even if she was wearing the new coat he’d given her. She ended up stepping closer to him then, probably seeking more warmth—even though he was a little disappointed when her hand left his, he couldn’t complain much when she grasped his arm instead, first with one hand and then with her other one. And for the second time that night, Yura was clutching at his arm as she stayed glued to his side, and Satoru couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto his face.

They continued walking almost mindlessly through the outdoor paths, passing by several of the buildings that made up the Gojo Estate. Yura seemed to be curious about everything, asking him what each building was for—mostly different residences, he’d answered, although there were a couple of shrines scattered throughout. Most of the non-residential buildings were in a different area... and he supposed that he would just have to show her to those some other time.

“How many people live on the Estate?” Yura asked, still leaning against his side.

“Uh...” He stopped to think. “I’m not sure, actually. Mostly everyone with the Gojo name—you know, my uncles and aunts, their kids, their kids’ kids, some further apart cousins, the live-in employees and servants...”

“...Everyone except the clan head himself,” she replied with an amused smile, and she wasn’t wrong there.

Satoru nodded. “Yup.”

He’d had his family breathing down his neck for the entirety of his childhood and then some; this time, he wanted some actual freedomto live his life without their annoying meddling, thank you very much.

Yura let out a sigh, nodding slightly as she leaned against his side again. They continued walking some more, chatting sometimes, and sometimes just staying in comfortable silence. Satoru was too busy enjoying Yura’s presence there to worry about anything else.

But then her voice interrupted yet another stretch of quiet. “Satoru,” she called, and he turned his head to her. “This walk is going great and all... but are we getting somewhere soon? These heels are really starting to bother me...”

As Yura slowed down to a stop, pulling him with her, Satoru ended up getting a bit of déjà vu. That’s right—one and a half years ago, when Satoru had last brought Yura to the Estate with him, he’d also taken her on a walk like this after they’d left the event. He wasn’t exactly sure why he had decided to do that; he had simply grabbed her hand to pull her away from the stuffy ceremony they’d been forced to attend, and then... she just hadn’t pulled her hand away. So he’d just kept walking, until Yura had complained that her kimono had been a little too tight after all the food they’d eaten.

Satoru snorted. “Why is it always something when we go on walks like these?” He shot her a crooked grin. “Why must you interrupt this lovely atmosphere we have going on?”

Yura stuck her feet out, jiggling her shoe. “You were the one who got me these way too high heels to wear. It’s your fault that my feet can’t handle all this walking.”

Well, that was true. But she did look fantasticwith the heels on, along with the dress he’d gotten her for this event.

Satoru let out an exaggerated sigh, fully turning to face her. “Fine. We’ll go,” he said, but then he got déjà vu again as he stared at Yura in front of him.

...Ah. That’s right. That night, he’d also come this close to kissing her—this close. If Yura hadn’t looked away, he would have definitely done it. Back then, he had tried rationalizing it away as a momentary fluke—the way she had sat by his side in front of his entire clan as his wife had certainly done a number on him, and something inside of him had gotten a little too comfortable with the idea as they’d played along.

But to be honest, he now knew that calling it a fluke had only been him lying to himself, because he had also come this close to kissing her multiple times before and after. As it turned out, he had just really wanted to kiss Yura.

His lips twitched up.

And he could do that now, couldn’t he?

Without a word, Satoru simply leaned forward to press a quick kiss to her lips. When he pulled away, Yura was blinking up at him in surprise, slightly taken aback.

“...What was that for?” she asked, a little amused.

Satoru shot her a small grin. “Just ‘cause I can,” he told her.

Yura gave his chest a light slap, even as she was trying to bite back a smile.

“Alright, come on,” he eventually said, stepping closer to her. And just like last time, he wrapped his arms around her, tugging her body unnecessarily close to him. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, feeling her own arms wrap around his torso, before he teleported them both away.

---

Yura was a little confused when they reappeared somewhere still in the Gojo Estate and not in front of his car, like she had expected. They were in a hallway, in front of a closed sliding door, and it did look a little familiar... though Yura wasn’t exactly sure where they were.

“...Where are we?” she asked, stepping away from Satoru as his arms dropped from around her.

Satoru grinned as he moved toward the door. “Why, the party isn’t over yet,” he told her, sliding one side of the door open. “Or better yet, you can call this the after-party.”

As Yura peered inside the room, she suddenly remembered what this place was. These were Satoru’s private quarters inside the Gojo Estate, the ones he rarely used because, well, he didn’t really spend much time around these parts. He had brought her here once, some seven years ago on her first visit, saying that it was the one place where he could be free of his family when inside the Estate.

...Yura suddenly had an inkling as to what Satoru had in mind for this after-partyof his.

“I wasn’t aware there would be an after-party,” Yura said, even as she took off her heels before she stepped inside the room. “That wasn’t on the invitation.” ...There hadn’t really been an invitation.

Satoru was still grinning. “A surprise after-party then,” he said, starting to take off his own shoes. “But, really, you should have seen this coming.”

She really should have.

They both moved inside, Satoru turning on the lights before he helped her take off her coat, hanging it with his. Yura ended up getting a little distracted admiring the place again—this was essentially Satoru’s childhood bedroom, wasn’t it? Well, it was a little more than a bedroom—Yura was only familiar with the main sitting area where she and Satoru had had tea that one time, but there was still one doorway leading to what she knew to be the bedroom, and also another one that she wasn’t sure where it led to. It was almost like he had a whole apartment of his own inside his house, and Yura wondered how much time he would spend in here alone, given everything that he’d told her over the years...

“Young master?” a voice came from outside, following a knock on the door. The voice was familiar—that was Hanae, wasn’t it? Satoru’s old caretaker (read: babysitter), and probably the one person inside the Estate that he actually liked.

“Yeah?” Satoru replied, turning to the door and sliding it open again. Sure enough, Hanae was standing outside, and she gave him one deep bow in greeting before she spotted Yura, shooting the younger woman a warm smile and bowing to her as well.

“It’s good to see you again, Yura-san,” Hanae called, and Yura gave her a similar bow in greeting.

“You too,” Yura replied. She had first met Hanae on her first visit to the Estate, but they had definitely run into each other a few times in the years since. Mostly in Satoru’s apartment, since Hanae was the one coming in to tidy up his place every week; and since Yura had started spending more and more time over at Satoru’s... she had definitely begun to run into the older woman more often in the past year or so...

“I’m sorry to interrupt, young master,” Hanae said, bowing her head down to Satoru again. “But I’m afraid the head of the Kamo clan has requested your presence.”

Satoru’s mood suddenly did a one-eighty, and he let out an aggravated sigh. “Seriously? I’m busy—We can talk some other time.”

Hanae pressed her lips together for a moment. “...I’m afraid that this might be some official business,” she eventually said. “They stressed it was important—I believe it is regarding a possible marriage match between the two clans.” She shot him an apologetic smile.

Satoru was silent for a moment before his shoulders sagged. “Fine,” he caved, and Yura had to wonder if they’d sent Hanae here to fetch him because she seemed to have a way of talking him into things. Yura supposed that the other woman just had plenty of practice dealing with his difficult kid self. “But this’ll have to be quick—I don’t need to be involved in this...” he finished by grumbling out the words. He grabbed his coat with an exaggerated sigh, before he suddenly turned back to Yura and pointed a finger right at her face. “You. Don’t go anywhere,” he said in mock-seriousness. Then his face shifted into a grin. “The after-party is still on.”

Yura was trying to bite back a grin as she pretended to be bothered. “Just don’t take too long,” she said, setting a hand on her hip. “...Also, I can’t promise I won’t snoop.”

Satoru continued grinning as he slipped his coat back on. “Snoop away,” he said.

Satoru eventually left with Hanae, leaving Yura alone there in his private quarters. And as she turned away from the door, looking over the place, her urge to snoop was strong.

To start off, she shot the living area a long cursory glance as she gave the place a once-over. Not much seemed to have changed since her first visit—much like the rest of the house, this room was also elegantly decorated in mostly traditional Japanese décor, with a low table (a kotatsu, actually) in the center where she and Satoru had drank tea last time, a couch against a wall, and a few bookshelves scattered throughout. There was, however, a very modern TV on top of a console against the wall, but otherwise, this place could have passed as something from another time entirely.

And there also wasn’t much Satoru from what she could see, nothing that would really indicate this place as being his. She wondered if that was because he’d long since moved out and had probably taken most of ‘his’stuff with him—but Yura also remembered Satoru mentioning that he hadn’t actually been allowed to redecorate as a child, hence why he ended up going nuts decorating his dorm room after he’d moved into the school.

Yura strolled across the room, glancing at the books on the shelves as she moved past them to peek through the doorway that led to the bedroom. She flicked the light switch on as she walked through the door, taking in the sight; again, there wasn’t much there. A low bed against a wall, a couple of dressers on the other side (even though she was pretty sure one of the western-style doors in the room also led to a closet), a smaller low table with some seats on the far end of the room, and another TV on the wall—nothing very distinct. Was this really how his bedroom had always looked, or had this been redecorated after Satoru had grown up? The bed was way too big for one single kid, although the thought of a kid Satoru sleeping sprawled out on the king-sized bed was pretty amusing—and very on-brand. He did like to spread out; when she would sleep next to him, he would often use her as a mattress instead.

...Or maybe he just liked spreading himself on top of her.

For a little while, Yura busied herself examining the room, peeking in through the western-style doors (one a bathroom and the other, yep, a closet), and then deciding to indeed snoop by opening the drawers on Satoru’s bedside tables. Now this finally felt more like Satoru—mostly normal stuff like phone chargers, a tablet, some candy (she snorted—yep, that’s him); just regular stuff she knew he also kept by his bed in his own apartment. Opening the bottom drawer, however, finally revealed something that seemed more childhood-like: it was an old handheld game console, with a few game cases carefully stored next to it. Yura knew that Satoru must have had multiple different game consoles throughout the years (a few of which she’d seen him using back in school), and that he hadn’t actually kept most of them—so she had to wonder why this one. Maybe it had some kind of special significance, she theorized. She would just have to ask him later.

(She also found a box of tissues and, ahem, lotion, in one drawer, and Yura’s lips tugged up; now, was that a recent Satoru thing or was that a remnant from his teenage days, she wondered...)

Tired of snooping in the bedroom, Yura made her way back to the main sitting area and walked to the unknown closed room, her curiosity not yet sated. This unknown room turned out to be nothing more than some kind of study, or so she guessed—it also had a low table in the middle, but this one felt more like a desk, with the handful of papers and writing implements scattered on top of it. The number of bookcases spread around the room also helped give it that study feeling.

Yura moved further inside as she examined things with a careful eye, briefly noting that a lot of the books on the shelves actually looked more like textbooks. That’s right, Satoru had been largely homeschooled, hadn’t he? At least before going to Jujutsu Tech. Yura looked over at the desk, suddenly trying to picture child Satoru sitting there and studying diligently—and she snorted. Somehow, she had doubts—but he was infuriatingly smart regardless of how much time he had actually spent studying at school, so who knows. Maybe he’d just had a verythorough education beforehand.

As the picture of a young Satoru studying in this room stuck in her mind, though, Yura looked over the room again. Had this been where he’d studied—where he would take his lessons? Satoru had complained several times during school about the amount of time his family had forced him to spend studying (‘And so I can afford to take it easy now,’ he would tell her, much to her indignation as he simply skipped regular classes), but she would have expected his private quarters to have some kind of toy room attached to them, instead of this somber study room. And she somehow didn’t think it was because this room had been cleaned out since he’d moved away...

Yura sighed, looking around.

To be honest, the more she thought about Satoru’s childhood, the more it seemed oddly lonely. Sure, he was the strongest; sure, he had enough money to buy anything he could have possibly wanted... but what good did it do when he could only enjoy it all alone?

Satoru had told her all about his family keeping the fabled Gojo heir confined to the Estate for the entirety of his childhood—‘for his protection,’ they would say. Yeah, that was a reason, but that just meant that Satoru had grown up isolated—if not deliberately being kept away from most people, then just by virtue of being who he was. No wonder he had been such an asshole when they’d first met—that had been his first actual foray into the ‘real word’, hadn’t it? Aside from all those times he had snuck out as a kid (see, that’s what you get for being so overly controlling: you end up with a strongest sorcerer with a rebellious streak instead). It was honestly no surprise that he had been such a spoiled brat with poor social skills when he’d first come to Jujutsu Tech.

And it also shouldn’t have been so surprising to see his quarters so bare, so devoid of personality, considering the controlling nature of his family. Even his current apartment usually seemed a little too clean for someone like Gojo Satoru, so that was definitely a habit that seemed to have been forcefully developed during his childhood regardless of the rebellious nature he had grown to have since then.

...But then as her eyes stumbled upon a figure propped up between a few books, Yura had to smile. Finally, she thought. There he is. That was Digimon, wasn’t it? At last, a little splash of personality inside the otherwise nondescript room, and Yura looked fondly at the worn-out toy that suddenly reminded her of a time when Satoru would sit her down to watch this anime whether she liked it or not.

‘It’s so much better than Pokémon!’ he would insist. ‘I must bestow you with good taste.’

Yura eventually continued looking over the many shelves, her eyes roaming over the titles of all these textbooks. She was kinda impressed at all the advanced reading that pre-high school Satoru had been doing, even though she knew that Satoru was smart-smart... despite acting like an idiot most of the time. But then she stopped in her tracks again.

There was a picture frame on one of the middle shelves, the only photo frame in this whole place. Yura knew that Satoru didn’t have the habit of hanging up pictures in his place, despite them taking many photos together on their phones—so this photo frame in particular immediately piqued her curiosity. She bent down, picking it up—and it surprised her a little, even if it was exactly what she should have expected.

There were two people in the photograph, one that Yura clearly recognized as being Satoru’s father—looking much younger than now—and the other one a boy... who Yura took a couple of seconds to recognize as Satoru himself. The white hair and blue eyes should have been a dead giveaway, but it still took her a moment; maybe it was the fact that Yura had never seen any pictures of Satoru as a kid, or maybe it was the unusually serious expression on his face. And not just serious—scowling, like he didn’t want to be there... which she guessed was probably the case. Both father and son were standing next to each other, facing the camera, his father’s hand on his shoulder in what clearly looked to be an ‘official’ photograph of some kind.

Yura studied the photo closely; this was actually her first glimpse into what Satoru had looked like as a kid. He looked young—very young—but she couldn’t be sure how old he was in the picture, so she couldn’t tell if he’d always been that tall or if he ever used to be of a normal height. His hair was shorter than when she’d first met him, almost choppily messy despite the fact that he was wearing what looked like a formal kimono along with his father, and he also wasn’t wearing any sunglasses at this time. His cheeks were round with baby fat, far different from the Satoru she knew today but not that different from the fifteen-year-old Satoru she had met over a decade ago, and, well... he kinda looked adorable.

She could just squeeze his chubby, grumpy cheeks.

And speaking of which, Yura started to feel the man in question approaching long before she ever heard him open the main door.

“Yuraaa,” she heard him call, moving towards where she was standing. “Where are you snooping...”

Satoru popped up in the doorway, shooting her a grin, and Yura bit back a smile. “You done with... whatever they wanted you for?” she asked.

Satoru let out a sigh as he approached her, stopping right behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “It was dumb,” he replied, pressing his face to her hair. “Some far-removed Gojo clan member and some even more far-removed Kamo clan member were trying to arrange a marriage between themselves, and apparently they needed the clan heads’ approval for that.” He suddenly dropped his chin to her shoulder, grumbling, “Just get married, don’t drag me into it...”

Yura huffed out a laugh, leaning back against him. “Do you need to approve every marriage in the clan or something?”

He shook his head, even as he kept it pressed against her shoulder. “No, just between the three major clans,” he replied. “Something something not wanting a clan’s inherited technique to fall into another clan’s hands. Blah.”

That definitely sounded like something that would be taken seriously by the three clans, but trust Satoru to treat it with the same seriousness as stepping on gum.

“So,” Satoru started again. “Whatchu got there?”

Yura smiled. “You,” she answered, turning the photo toward him. She tapped his face on the photograph with a finger. “You look so grumpy here.”

Satoru let out a sigh. “Official photo time was always boring,” he said, and she wasn’t surprised. He buried his face in her neck again, almost whining against her skin as his glasses poked at her cheek.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a photo of you as a kid,” she told him. She grinned. “Look at your chubby cheeks.”

Satoru huffed out a laugh against her neck. “I know, I know, I was adorable.”

She half-heartedly rolled her eyes. “An adorable menace, I’m sure.”

“I mean...” Satoru heaved out another breath against her skin, shifting slightly behind her. “Are we gonna keep talking about kid me or are we gonna... get to the good stuff?”

And as if to make a point, she felt his lips press against the crook of her neck, and Yura tried biting back a grin. Of course.

---

Satoru felt a little... odd.

It wasn’t like Yura had never visited his private quarters in the Gojo Estate before, but something about having her there now was throwing him for a loop.

These days, there was a very clear distinction between what he considered to be clan life and his regular day-to-day life. It’d started many years ago when he’d left for Jujutsu Tech, finally able to break away from the suffocating grip his family had on him—and over the years, he’d been able to keep both parts of his life fairly well-separated. It wasn’t entirely intentional on his part; it had simply happened that way. His family didn’t bother him when it came to his job, and he usually only had to deal with clan-related business when he visited the Estate.

And this division extended to the people in his life as well—his family tended to stay away once he wasn’t around the Estate, and the friends he’d made after leaving for school didn’t usually get involved in clan matters nor frequent the same places his family did.

Which was probably why having Yura there, in the room he grew up in, felt so odd—like two worlds colliding entirely.The only person that had straddled the line between the clan and non-clan parts of his life had been a certain someone that would not be named—the only other person from outside that had ever visited his quarters here.

...But that couldn’t be the reason for this weird feeling in him, could it? At least not entirely. He had brought Yura here once, many years ago, and they’d had tea in his living area—and yeah, sure, it had felt a little strange back then too, but not thisstrange. This was a similar kind of feeling to what he’d felt when he took Yura with him to that clan ceremony a year and a half ago—seeing her there next to him, surrounded by his family and his clan...

It was... odd. Like he had just slotted her in an entirely new place in his life, where she fit... a little too well. Odd, but not a bad kind of odd.

So he decided to just ignore that weird feeling and busy himself by pressing his lips to her neck instead.

“Is this the only reason you brought me here?” Yura asked, amused. He vaguely noticed her placing the photo frame back on the shelf before she tilted her head to the side, giving him better access to her neck.

He’d truly made a wonderful choice picking this dress for her. With her entire neckline bared to him, he was able to trail his lips up and down an unbroken expanse of skin, going up her neck then down to her shoulder and back again. There was only the delicate chain of her necklace in the way, but he hardly minded it considering how she always wore it anyway. “Couldn’t exactly do this in front of everyone...” he replied, letting his teeth gently scrape the side of her neck, and he felt Yura shiver against him. “Even though I kind of wanted to.”

He heard Yura huff out a laugh. “Well, at least you behaved.”

He grinned against her neck—time to finally misbehave, then.

Satoru’s hands had been resting on her waist, and he let them drift further forward. His palms slid over Yura’s stomach on top of her dress, enjoying the way the softness and firmness of her body felt against his hands. As his thumb brushed over the underside of a breast, he was a little disappointed to find that she was, in fact, wearing a bra... but oh well. That would come off soon enough. So he pressed his nose to the side of her throat as he let his hands slide up to squeeze both of her soft mounds, and Yura laughed again.

“Someone’s getting handsy,” she said, letting her head fall back against him. His other hand drifted down again, splaying his fingers open over her stomach to press her body back into his... maybe only proving her point further. His lips pressed a kiss underneath her ear, feeling her sigh against him, and he kissed her there again—if he was getting handsy, then did this mean he was getting lipsy as well?

He grinned some more, but his grin ended up falling when Yura pulled away from him. He straightened himself up as he looked at her in confusion.

“Maybe we shouldn’t get handsy in your... study room,” she said, but she had a smile on her face as she stepped closer to him, her hands resting on his chest as she pressed her front to his.

His grin came back. “Why not?” he asked. His head dipped closer to her, his lips approaching hers.

But Yura pulled away before he could reach her once again, a mischievous look on her face. So she was in a teasing mood huh? Well, at least her hands took a hold of his as she stepped back, pulling him with her, and he let her lead him along.

Yura guided them back into the living area and then tugged him into the bedroom with her, and Satoru’s grin widened. Yura was still holding on to both of his hands, so once they were both sufficiently inside, she simply tugged his body to hers, pressing their fronts together again.

“This feels like a better place to start the after-party,” she said, her head tilting up towards his.

He was still grinning as he nodded. “That’s fair,” he said, and finally lowered his mouth to hers.

A sigh escaped him as they locked their lips together, his hands coming up to cup her face and bring her closer—he’d been wanting to do this all night. Maybe even in front of everyone—his family, the Kamo clan, the Zen’ins, all the elders and higher ups in attendance—he had been wanting to pull her to him and kiss her so everyone would see. He had refrained from doing that, of course, as Yura probably wouldn’t have appreciated it, so he’d had to hold himself back all night instead.

But not now. Now he could let his tongue taste her lips as he wished, enjoying the way her own tongue reached out to brush against his own. He could tilt her head slightly so he could kiss her deeper, feeling her hands tightening on his shirt against his sides as she pressed herself closer. He could just... get lost in her, just like this.

Satoru’s fingers slipped into her hair, enjoying the softness of the strands as he kept her face as close as possible. Yura herself was pressing her body tightly against his, and he could feel her pushing herself up on her toes to get even closer. See? This was why he’d gotten her those heels—Yura was pretty tall herself, but those heels would have helped them get on more even ground.

...Although, to be fair, she wasn’t likely to wear heels in the bedroom. Ah, well.

Yura’s nose bumped against his sunglasses as their mouths moved together, and it prompted her to pull away from him. She herself raised her hands to pluck the glasses off his face with a grin, but instead of tossing them somewhere else, she only folded them back up and slipped them between her breasts, leaving it hanging off the front of her dress.

His eyes, of course, followed along, and his gaze was immediately stuck to her cleavage.

Yura really needed to wear strapless tops more often...

“So,” Yura started, and Satoru had been so entranced by the way her breasts looked in that dress that he hadn’t noticed she was actually stepping away from him. “This is your childhood bedroom.”

Satoru’s eyes finally left her chest, and when they did, the sight suddenly struck him.

The four walls of this room were ones he was intimately familiar with; this was where he’d spent most of his childhood before he was able to break away from all of it and build his own life for himself. To be honest, most of his happy memories had taken place outside of here—even now, after all this time, this place still felt as stifling as it used to be when he was a kid, so he usually avoided it as much as possible.

But having Yura there with him now—why was it making him feel... something?

“What?” she asked, a confused smile on her face at his prolonged silence.

Satoru stared at her for another long moment, taking in the sight of Yura standing right there in his childhood bedroom, before he mentally shook himself out of it. “Nothing,” he replied, stepping closer to her. “Just thinking that you should really let me buy you dresses more often.”

Yura rolled her eyes even if she still had a smile on her face, and before he could get his hands on her again, she turned her back to him. “Well, now you’re gonna have to help get me out of this dress instead,” she said, handing his sunglasses back to him over her shoulder.

Satoru grinned, taking the glasses and slipping them into his pocket. “Happy to oblige.”

The first thing Satoru did was brush her long hair over her shoulder, exposing her back to him. He let his hands linger on her bare skin above the line of her dress, tracing the faint scars there; as much as the sight of her bare legs drove him crazy, he had also developed a fondness for the line of her shoulders, the contours of her collarbone, the movements of her shoulder blades...

Satoru lowered his lips to the crook of her neck again, pressing a soft kiss to her bare skin. He let his hand trace down the dip of her back until he reached the edge of her dress, fingers finding the zipper there and slowly tugging it down. His mind briefly wondered how she had put it on without any help, realizing with an amused laugh that she must have used her own technique to do so. But any other thoughts on the matter were quickly wiped away once he had fully undone the zipper, letting the dress slide down her body to pool at her feet.

Yura was wearing a similarly pale pink matching underwear set, and Satoru had to pull away slightly to admire how the strapless bra and panties hugged her curves just right. He let a hand slide down her back, briefly brushing over her ass as she turned around, facing him; she had an almost knowing smile on her face, but then she once again pulled away from him as she let her smile turn into a sly one.

“You’re overdressed, by the way,” she said as she stepped towards the bed. She sat down on it and then shuffled back towards the middle, and Satoru could only stare once more.

Yura, in her underwear, sitting on his bed at the Gojo Estate—

How many times had he laid on his back on this very same bed, staring up at the sky through the ceiling as he wondered if there was more to life than just lessons, lessons, lessons. If there was anything actually interesting out there for him, away from the Gojo Estate somewhere. Something fun and exciting, something he could look forward to—

Oh, there was definitely something alright, he thought. And it was currently sitting on top of that very same bed, looking up at him curiously.

“You’re really spaced out today,” Yura commented, and he was suddenly brought back to the present. No more getting distracted, he thought to himself.

“Well, you know,” he started, letting his eyes focus on Yura’s bare skin, the fabric of her underwear hiding the most interesting bits from him... for now. “I’ve just never had sex with anyone in here before.”

Yura looked at him with amusement in her eyes, tilting her head at him for a moment. “I mean, you’re not gonna be having any sex if you just stand there like a doofus,” she said. Satoru had to admit that she had a point. “So, strip.”

And to emphasize her point, Yura reached behind her and unclasped her bra, promptly tugging it off to throw it at him.

Ah, fucking hell... what a sight.

The garment smacked him on the face as Satoru kept staring, his eyes completely focused on her bare chest. Then he immediately startled himself into action, quickly pulling off his sweater and undershirt in one go before reaching down to undo his belt. His pants felt tight as he pushed them down his legs, tossing them off to the side as he rushed towards the bed, his eyes set on one singular goal—and he didn’t waste a second as he moved towards Yura, finally landing face-first on one of her wonderfully soft breasts.

Yura gasped as his mouth closed over one of her nipples, sucking on it and letting his tongue swirl around the hardened bud. One of her hands slipped into his hair as she leaned back but still pushed her chest forward, and Satoru hummed in approval—definitely a better angle for him to delight himself there. He could never get enough of the way she felt in his mouth, how it felt when he sucked the bud and some of the softness inside before releasing it and tasting her skin with his tongue. And he couldn’t just focus on one, that just wouldn’t be fair—so he removed his mouth from her before quickly capturing her other breast instead.

This was a much better end to a boring clan event, that’s for sure. This might just be the most fun he’d ever had in the Gojo Estate—ever.

And Satoru could have stayed there on Yura’s chest for hours—if Yura herself hadn’t gotten impatient, grabbing his head and pulling him up to hers. Their mouths met again and Satoru couldn’t complain, and as Yura’s hand found his own chest, sliding over his skin and making him shiver—he could complain even less.

Yura ran her hands over his muscles, squeezing at his skin, briefly pinching his own nipples and making his breath hitch. But Yura wasn’t satisfied with just that, no; as their tongues brushed against each other, her hand moved lower. Satoru’s mind was definitely paying close attention to her scorching touch, but still—as her hand finally squeezed him over his underwear, he almost jumped in surprise, grunting against her mouth at the feeling.

Yura pulled away from him then, and he didn’t have to open his eyes to see the cheeky grin she was sporting. But his mind was otherwise preoccupied, as her mouth had left his but not her hand—she was still massaging him over the fabric of his underwear, and if Satoru hadn’t been painfully hard before, he definitely was now.

“Satoru,” she called, and he eventually opened his eyes to meet hers. Her hand continued her ministrations down below, and his hips were almost rolling into her touch. “You said you had never had sex in here before, didn’t you?”

Satoru only vaguely hummed an agreement, letting the hand that had slipped into her hair slide down her front, absentmindedly squeezing one of her breasts.

Her grin widened. “What about a blowjob?”

Satoru suddenly froze. His eyes opened wider as he stared at her.

Yura, Yura, Yura...

Why was she always so good to him?

Yura’s cheeky grin never wavered as she pushed him back, sadly removing her hand from him, but he still throbbed nonetheless at the thought of what was to come.

What was to come—heh.

Hopefully him. And her. And her again. And them both—

Yura guided him to sit back down at the edge of the bed, rotating his body along with her as she stepped back onto the floor. She shot him a look as she stood in front of him, although Satoru got a little distracted by her bare chest right in front of his eyes. But when she bent down, tugging his underwear down his hips, Satoru eagerly assisted with its removal—almost dazedly watching as she finally knelt down between his legs, her hands on his thighs.

And when she finally grasped his member in her hand, he went a little crazy. Then she took him into her mouth and he almost went full insane.

Truly, he could never get tired of this. Actually, Yura only seemed to be getting better and better at this kind of thing every time she knelt down between his legs—she ran her tongue over him just right, she sucked him in just the right amount, her mouth and hands working in tandem to make him fully lose it.

Satoru threw his head back, one of his hands slipping into her hair but still letting her do whatever she needed to do—she sure didn’t seem to need his help. But then his eyes opened, lowering his head back down to take in the sight between his legs—and he instead ended up catching sight of everything instead, his brain once again struck by just where they were, and who he was with. He had so many memories of this place, of this room, most of them not particularly happy or fun; and now, Yura was there. In the middle of all of it. Her presence warming up this cold room... in more ways than one. (His body sure was getting very hot.)

Yura was bobbing her head up and down on him, and the feeling of him sliding in and out of her hot mouth was definitely getting him close. Too close, but also not close enough—something inside of him wanted to bury himself in her completely, so this wouldn’t do.

Yura shot him a questioning look as he pushed her back, still keeping him in her hands. But he didn’t say anything as he surged forward, wrapping an arm around her torso to tug her to him as he hitched one of her legs over his hip. Her arms came up to hold on to his shoulders as he maneuvered them both around, swiftly depositing her on the bed and positioning himself between her legs.

Satoru had to stop for a moment to admire the sight again, of Yura in this bed, his bed—in this room. It brought a weird, warm feeling to his stomach that Satoru couldn’t quite name, so he decided to push it all aside as he lowered himself on top of her to capture her lips with his own again.

It felt both strange and familiar, being with Yura like this here. Comfortingly familiar was when he let his hand slide down her body, squeezing a soft breast in the process, and found the waistband of her underwear; strange was when he pulled back briefly to tug the undergarment down her legs and caught sight of Yura sprawled out bare in the same bed he’d spent the first half of his life in.

His once home—his clan home. The place he’d thought he would only ever bring his eventual wife to, for... well, this.

Yura’s hands started groping his chest in the best way possible as he lowered himself back down to her, locking their lips together again. Their mouths were sloppy against each other, hands all over the other’s body, and Satoru couldn’t take it anymore—he wanted to be back in her, now. Not her mouth, this time; instead, his hand slid down to grab at his own member, Yura letting out a small gasp as he immediately pressed his length against her, slipping between her folds. He rubbed himself up and down there, coating himself in her wetness, letting the head of him slip down to briefly press against her entrance before sliding back up, rubbing himself against her clit before sliding down again. It was only a tease, really; even as Satoru was feeling a little impatient, his body craving more of her heat, he wanted to make sure it would be a... smooth ride inside, one might say.

But it seemed that Yura herself was also growing restless; every time that he slid down on her folds, pressing against her entrance, her hips would roll up against him as she almost urged him in. And who was he to continue denying her?

So the next time he slid down and found her entrance, he finally notched himself inside and pushed into her.

His forehead dropped to the bed next to her head, the feeling of being continuously squeezed by her walls incomparable to anything else. She felt so hot and so tight as he slowly sheathed himself inside, feeling her fingers pressing down on his back and urging him in further. Which was what he did—he kept pressing in, feeling her walls stretching open to accommodate him. His free hand eventually slid down to grasp at her hip and angle it up, allowing him to finally slot himself all the way inside; and as his hips met hers, feeling himself fully encased in her, he let out a shuddering breath against her ear.

There truly was no other feeling like this in the world. It was like sliding home; not just the way her tight heat wrapped around his member, but the way she was wrapped all over him—her legs bracketing his hips, her chest brushing against his with every breath she took, her hand digging into his back as her other hand slid down to grasp at his buttocks—it was almost like all of her was trying to urge him in even deeper.

So he obliged. He shifted his hips even closer, feeling himself push in just a tad bit deeper.

He really could stay here like this forever, couldn’t he?

Satoru breathed in and out against the side of her head, just basking in the feeling.

...Okay, so he could stay here forever, but maybe not stay still—his body started craving more, so he eventually started to move his hips slowly. He pulled himself out, then slid back all the way in, his nose pressed against the side of her head, nuzzling in as he breathed in her scent. Satoru was enjoying himself a little too much feeling the ridges of her walls drag over his length almost painfully slowly, but somehow just right.

He wasn’t going to continue with this pace all night, of course. There was more fun to be had.

His hips started moving faster, thrusting down into her. Her touch began drifting all over his body as he moved himself in and out of her with increasing speed, and her hands managed to leave both shivers and a scorching trail in their wake. It only drove him further, his hips thrusting into her faster, the continued squeeze and release of her walls around him making his muscles tense as he craved more. More heat, more speed, more space to move—the hand that had been grasping her hip moved up to her leg instead, urging her thighs to spread wider for him, and she wordlessly obliged. Something in his stomach coiled in pleasure as she gave him full unrestricted access to her heat, and he took full advantage of that to thrust into her unimpeded.

Satoru’s mind had long disconnected from the situation, letting his body’s natural impulses drive him along. As his hips kept moving, his nose and lips continued trying to press themselves closer to her, nuzzling the side of her head, his lips finding a combination of skin and hair and more skin as his face brushed against her. As Yura’s thighs fell open completely and he no longer had the need to hold them that way, he was able to free up his hand to happily start exploring her body with his touch... immediately finding her breast again and squeezing her softness in his hand once more.

There was nothing else at that moment but him and her, together. And Satoru would have liked it to stay that way—so when he sensed a familiar energy approaching, his Six Eyes glancing through the walls to the outside on instinct alone, he suddenly snapped his hips into her with an annoyed grunt and stayed there.

Yura, in turn, let out a gasp at the sudden roughness, her walls squeezing him briefly and making him realize just what he’d done. Oops would have been his thought if it hadn’t actually felt good.

“What?” Yura breathed out, half confused and half dazed at the feeling. “What... is it?”

Satoru’s eyes briefly glanced at the figure of his father standing outside of his quarters before sliding his gaze away (this was not what he wanted to be looking at in the middle of sex). But when he raised himself up slightly on his elbow to meet Yura’s eyes—the sight of her flushed face as he stayed buried inside of her had him pause for a moment.

“Just...” he eventually said. “An annoying visitor. He’ll go away soon enough.” Satoru had long made sure that his family were not to go inside his quarters without permission, so his father would eventually just leave once he got no answer.

Yura glanced up in the direction of the bedroom door before looking up at him. “...You don’t think they can hear us, can they?”

“Probably not,” Satoru answered, and immediately snapped his hips into hers again, making her bite back a gasp. He grinned.

Yura shot him a mock-annoyed look, but when he thrust into her again, she definitely looked like she was enjoying it.

He wasn’t worried about anyone overhearing them—his quarters were at the far end of this building, and there was still the whole living area between the bedroom and the outside... even if the walls weren’t really all that thick.

“Besides,” Satoru said, his voice coming out a little breathless as his hips continued the harsher thrusting into her. “I told you... my family would probably throw a party... if they knew what we’ve been doing.”

Yura’s face was scrunching up in pleasure as she tried keeping her eyes open to look up at him. “I don’t think... I don’t think it’s the sex part... they’re interested in.”

“No...” Satoru agreed. His mouth was slightly parted as he stared down at her flushed face, and he was pretty sure his was the same way. “They just want the resulting bit.” And he thrust himself into her again.

Yura’s eyes met his, a strange look passing between the two of them. “...That does have to come... from somewhere,” she said, her voice amused.

And when he thought of where that somewhere might be, it made his hips immediately snap into her without his permission, his head suddenly spinning.

Following this new pace, Satoru’s hips continued moving in rough, deep thrusts, while he still kept himself raised slightly above her in one arm. This meant that his eyes never left hers, despite their occasional fluttering, that same strange look still lingering in the air.

“So...” Yura let out, her eyes fluttering more and more as he increased his pace. “Is that what they would think... that we’re doing?”

“Yep,” he replied, his eyes never wavering from her face as his mouth worked on its own, seemingly disconnected from his brain... “That this is me putting a baby in you.”

When the words finally registered in his own ears, his hips suddenly snapped into her harder. Well, shit.

And it took him a second to register the fact that Yura’s own hand had drifted down her body, reaching the nub there and rubbing. Her eyes had fluttered closed, but she managed to force them open as she stared up at him. “...Well, you can try,” she breathed out, her voice a mix of amusement, defiance, and a simple statement of a fact.

It drove Satoru insane, and his hips only matched the state of his brain.

Yeah, he could try.

Satoru’s gaze locked on the golden flecks of her eyes as he pushed himself into her, the only thing going through his head was her name on repeat like a mantra going Yura, Yura, Yura—

He only vaguely noticed her hand increasing speed between her legs, as her face started to shift and scrunch up more often. He matched her pace with his hips, driving himself into her again and again and again—

Until when Yura suddenly cried out, throwing her head back and arching into him. The sight, the sound, the feeling—it was all too much, immediately pushing him over the edge, and he drove himself in as far as he could go with a cry of his own. His hips were pressed flush against hers as his climax hit him, and he finally released himself fully inside of her.

As waves of pleasure crashed over him, Satoru buried his head against the side of her neck again as he curled himself into her. He could feel himself spilling deep inside of her, her walls spasming around him and milking him for all that he’s worth. The head of his length was definitely pressed against something inside as he tried to push himself in even further, and if he knew enough biology, considering what they had just been saying—

Well, the thought of his release slipping into her womb was already getting him ready for round two.

(...If it weren’t for birth control, his family would have definitely already gotten that heir they want so much.)

But for the moment, Satoru allowed his muscles to relax.

The way their chests moved against one another as they both caught their breaths was almost hypnotic as he came down from his high. His senses were overwhelmed with Yura—all Yura.

...He wasn’t complaining. He only pressed a kiss against her jawline when he had finally recovered enough.

“That’s... one hell of an after-party,” she eventually breathed out, and Satoru had to huff out a laugh as he raised himself on one arm again.

“Much better than the party itself,” he added, peering down at her. Her cheeks were still flushed, her hair wild around her head, and he raised his free hand to brush some stray strands away from her face.

“I mean...” Yura looked up at him, her lips tugging up into a cheeky grin. “That’s not saying much...”

Satoru’s mouth widened into a grin of his own. “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure the after-party lasts as long as the actual party did,” he said, and to punctuate his words, he rolled his hips against hers, feeling him move inside of her still.

Yura huffed, amused. “Of course,” she said. Her legs came up to wrap themselves around his waist, locking him in.

This was, one hundred percent, the most fun he’d ever had inside his family home.

End notes: So, what we've gathered from this oneshot and the previous one (Movie Night) is that yes, both Satoru and Yura have developed breeding kinks. Yes, that is his family's fault for bringing up heirs so much. No, they're still in denial over their own feelings even though it was staring at them right in the face.

Anyway, I really like exploring Satoru's character, and I really like writing smut lmao. Best of both worlds! Throw in a lot of Satoru completely glossing over his own feelings and we've got a wining combo here!

I did have to rush to get this out before I could post the next chapter of the main fic, because the vibes...... might shift a bit in the near future in the main story. So the main fic will still take me a little more time, but have this as a treat until then!

#gojo satoru #jjk fic #gojo x oc #gojo smut #satoru gojo #satoyura #my fics

25 notes · View notes

eds-gryff · 2 years ago

Text

Dates Out of Duty

Edmund Pevensie x Gender-Neutral Reader

Okay, despite the pictures, Y/N is GENDER-NEUTRAL IN THIS FIC!! It is the first time I’ve written a gender neutral reader, and also I have been having horrific writer’s block for about two months, so this fic may not be the BEST. I tried very hard, though 😭😭 I’m sorry.

Also, I do have an Arranged-Marriage-with-Edmund-Pevensie fanfiction on Wattpad- it’s called ‘Alliance’ and it is a series of four books, so please do check that out!!

Requested by @potatosdragon

‘Hi, could you please write an Edmund pevensie imagine x fem reader where it's about the types of dates he would take you on after an arranged marriage. Thank you sosososossososossosooskks much’

It’s not exactly a list of dates like most fics about this scenario are, I wanted to tell a story of the reader and Edmund’s development as well- plus, the date ideas come from both, not just from Ed. Hopefully it’ll be tolerable! 🥲

Y/N= Your Name

Y/C/N= Your Country’s Name

Y/P/W= Your Preferred Weapon

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

Riding Dates

It’s unfamiliar territory, romantic feelings for each other, but Edmund and Y/N both desperately need some semblance of comfort.

The first date, thus, is familiar territory.

He had learnt that they shared a love for horses very soon after the wedding- when he’d witnessed the delight in his then-affianced’s face upon learning that Y/N’s horse was going to come along as they returned to Narnia.

(Their wedding had taken place in Y/N’s kingdom, as per the agreement of the marriage alliance. Neither of them had smiled once during it. It had been their duty, and that was all. Neither had hoped or thought or even imagined that anything more would come out of doing their duty.)

The date is not the roaring success both hoped for- they had hoped, actually, that once they confessed their feelings for each other, things would get as easy as possible- but it’s not a devastating failure, either.

They have fun, playfully bantering with each other as they rode deeper into the woods- banter that Edmund’s horse, Philip, joined as well- and they attempt to, rather clumsily, kiss while on horseback as well. It makes them laugh, and then soon blush, once it turns out that they were quite good at kissing in even inopportune situations.

The problem comes when it is discovered that the path Edmund had chosen led them much further away than expected and when it is found that Y/N had forgotten to bring along the picnic basket.

Hunger and the fear of getting lost plays havoc on romance, and by the time they manage to return to Cair Paravel, the banter has turned to bickering, despite Philip’s most valiant efforts.

And by the time they return to their shared chambers after supper, anything more than a chaste good-night peck is unthinkable.

Bakery Dates

Y/N and Edmund are not very deterred by the less-than-ideal results of their date in the woods, especially since they wake up the next few mornings snuggled into each other.

It’s hard to stay annoyed when you wake up so comfortable and so warm and in each other’s arms- and, one of these mornings, the royals dawdle in bed for a good two hours before forcing themselves to get up.

They miss breakfast- something that’s usual for Y/N, perpetually a late sleeper, but not for Edmund, because although he loves to sleep in, he also enjoys having breakfast with his family- and so Y/N suggests going into town and to one of the bakeries, for the Just King is known to have quite the sweet tooth.

Edmund says yes, quite happily, and it’s hand-in-hand that the pair walk into the town closest to the castle.

They sample cakes and pastries and some things Y/N can’t pronounce but Edmund can with a funny accent- and the employees in the bakery are all aflutter at serving two Monarchs, and that, too, while they’re on a date!

They settle them in a large corner of the bakery, practically forcing every other customer into the opposite corner- despite repeated requests from the royal couple to treat them as regular folk- and they’re given so much sweet confections that Y/N’s tongue, unused to having such large amounts of desserts, goes numb in the middle of a sweet apple crumble. Edmund is having the time of his life, though, biting into a chocolate gateau and a rose parfait and blueberry cakes, and Y/N gazes at him quite contentedly the entire time- and then the gaze turns mutual and humorous and a bit alarmed, when the head baker packs them enough sweeties and desserts and chocolates to last a few decades.

They both are supposed have meetings that day- one with an envoy from Archenland and the other with a Tarkheena from Calormen- but the meetings are later in the day, and they know that the High King and the Queens of Narnia will happily keep the guests busy on the off-chance they are late.

His siblings are more invested in their relationship than they both are, the Just King feels.

As usual, he’s right, and it’s seen just how right he is at the next Ball.

Reading Dates

But before the Ball, comes winter, and with winter, comes the need to stay warm and cosy.

Especially for Edmund, since he does not deal well with the cold at all.

Y/N isn’t used to the cold, since Y/C/N is a warm country, and so they both have more reason than most to stay indoors during the most biting days of winter.

But they haven’t gone on a date in weeks, and Y/N is fearing that they could go back to the aloofness they had regarded each other with during the beginning of their marriage.

Neither of them wants that- Y/N and Edmund care for each other very deeply, and that’s something that even they, expert at denying feelings, cannot deny.

Hence, Y/N hauls candles and blankets and some of the bakery’s sweets in the middle of winter, in addition to asking the Kitchens to bring up some food and warm drinks.

Lastly, Y/N finds Edmund in his study, wrapped in a thick shawl his mother-in-law gave him, and they walk hand-in-hand to the destination.

In the Library, seated on a cosy couch, half-suffocated by thick blankets, Edmund and Y/N hardly talk. They read quietly in the candlelight, occasionally looking up to grin at each other or hold hands again, and even the meal is had in utterly comfortable silence, broken only at the end of it by Edmund’s declaration that they must have a sleepover in the Library.

Of course, both being the bibliophiles they are, they doubt much sleep will happen- it’s far more likely they’ll read and read and read until they fall asleep reading.

But neither will mind that- and so, Y/N climbs into Edmund’s lap, fishes a book from the pile next to them, and agrees.

Ballroom (And a Bit of Stargazing) Dates

Edmund dances well, and since he’s married, he knows that the one to dance with is his consort. He was the one to suggest they consider the Ball a date for he had no wish to spend the event with anyone apart from Y/N.

Y/N felt the same way, and his suggestion was met with an approving kiss.

Still, his siblings have some insane idea in their heads that the relationship between the two Monarchs needs meddling to grow- and their idea of meddling is to make sure no one else meddles.

And so the rest of the guests at the vibrant New Year’s Ball give the two Monarchs a wide berth throughout the event.

It suits Y/N just fine, because Edmund is easily the only one around who offers comfort as well as conversation, not to mention how fine a dancer he is, to make up for Y/N’s abysmal dancing skills. And even Edmund can’t mind, truly, not when he has his dear consort clasped in his arms, and he sees just how bright and soft Y/N’s smile, aimed at him throughout the night, is.

They spend the Ball dancing and laughing, and occasionally tripping, and they are not away from each other’s embrace for longer than a few minutes.

And then they steal away to the roof of Cair Paravel, and spend the rest of night staring up at the sky, with Edmund pointing out the different constellations in the sky, and Y/N speaking of the stories and fables of Y/C/N that were linked to the stars and the Heavens.

Y/N notices that Edmund’s freckles are like constellations. Edmund notices that Y/N’s eyes shine like the Moon. They gaze at each other more than they look at the celestial bodies.

And when the fireworks bloom into artificial stars in the sky, a few metres above them- the couple has their lips on each other’s, feeling something deep bloom in their hearts as well.

Things go sour not long after the Christmas Ball. It’s coming up on five years of marriage- Peter and Susan and Lucy and Y/N’s parents and both their countries were extremely frustrated by how long it’s taking for Y/N and Edmund to confess their love for each other.

But the couple is taking it slow. Neither are the type to fall in love quickly- rather, until each other, they hadn’t thought they would fall in love at all.

It is all wholly new and unexpected- for them- and they hadn’t quite believed what was happening when they’d quietly confessed to each other that they had feelings for the other. It was for that reason that there had been an unspoken agreement, after the confession, to do things slowly.

But the slowness was frustrating more than just the people around them- it was frustrating them, too!

Edmund regularly had to bite his tongue to keep from saying ‘my love’ in almost every single situation and at every moment of the day, but especially he’d come across Y/N be in the training field, eyes shining and sweaty skin glowing, perfecting the use of (Y/P/W).

The ‘I love you’ had been on the top of Y/N’s tongue every time the two Monarchs fell asleep while reading in the Royal Library, and then Y/N would be the one to wake up first, watching Edmund in peaceful slumber.

There are bets going on, in both Cair Paravel and in Y/N’s castle in (Y/C/N).

Peter said that Y/N would say it first, being the more impulsive of the pair.

Susan said that they’d both say it together, because underneath all their emotional unintelligence, there was some understanding and wisdom.

Lucy said it would be Edmund, because once he got over whatever fear was keeping from telling the three not-so-little words, he would surely want to be transparent with his consort, despite the possibility of his declaration being unrequited.

Y/N’s parents, for their part, thought that it would be another five years before the word ‘love’ would come into the conversation, and they said they’d announce their bet in three.

The sourness is not, however, Edmund and Y/N’s fault.

They’re doing quite well, actually, they feel, and they blush rather brightly every time the other’s name is brought up.

Then the Giants attacked.

Y/N spoke heatedly, looking with flashing eyes to the rest of the war council, “I’m going to fight!”

Edmund nodded, “Of course you are, darling, but you must stay here. It’s not safe to travel back to your country-”

No, Y/N wasn’t running back home! Of course not. That was what Peter had assumed for an awkward moment, and Y/N had almost thrown a scroll at his face.

“I need to get my army here, and I need to leave now. Narnia needs support, and it is part of our alliance treaty that our countries come to each other’s aid in the event of war.”

Peter stepped in here, “That’s right. Remember, Narnia has lent its troops to Y/C/N whenever minor scuffles at the border occur-”

“Of course I remember.” His younger brother said calmly, though not feeling calm at all.

His consort wanted to go out of Cair Paravel- which wasn’t safe in the least, as the Giants were camped practically just outside their walls. He couldn’t- he couldn’t risk losing someone he- someone he loved so much.

“We both signed the treaty, need I remind you. But then we can send a Raven to Y/N’s parents, they can-”

“I am the Monarch.” Y/N spoke, cutting across the Just King. There was no anger in Y/N’s voice, but it was simply firmness. “It is because of me that my country will be brought into this War, because I-”

Fell in love with you.

But the treaty had been signed long before that. And Edmund didn’t know that fact!

“Because I married you.”

Edmund swallowed. Y/N was right. There was no one else who could catch his tongue like that, or get him to change his mind.

“Very well.” He said stiffly, and looked to where Lucy was standing, already dressed in armour and looking fiercely warrior-like. “Lu, I’ll be going with Y/N, so I’ll ask Orieus if he may patrol with you instead-”

“No.” Y/N said, once against interrupting him. Somehow, Y/N’s hand was now on Edmund’s arm, and there sprung a need in both to clasp each other’s hand tight.

So, they did.

“Narnia needs you, dearest. I’ll be alright, and I’ll be back soon.”

Edmund gazed into Y/N’s eyes for a long moment, and Y/N gazed back.

The war council moved onto other matters soon, but Edmund and Y/N kept holding hands for the entirety of it- in fact, until they reached the Stables where Y/N’s horse was kept.

“Are you sure you want to leave now?” Edmund queried quietly, as his consort tied some necessities and supplies to end of the horse’s saddle. He’d been the one to have the sense to tell one of the servants to pack for a journey- Y/N was reckless enough to make the journey with nothing useful. “You could leave in the morning-��

“I don’t want to leave, but I have to. Sooner rather than later- you told me once they said that where you come from.” Y/N’s voice was just as quiet.

What if he was right? Well, of course he was right, he always was- but what if the Giants did attack Y/N on the way?

Death was inevitable, it was known- but to die while on the way to help in a War? What sort of Monarch did that?

But the alternative was not helping Narnia. The alternative was letting Edmund and Peter and Lucy and Susan suffer the War on their own.

Y/N turned to Edmund, “Spare Oom, was it?”

He smiled a little, and they neared each other, their arms sliding around each other so they stayed in an embrace for as long as they could.

“Or War Drobe. I’ve heard it both ways.”

He bent his head, and their lips met in a slow, needy, passionate kiss.

“I’ll be safe.” Y/N whispered into the kiss, knowing full well what Edmund would murmur once the embrace broke. “As safe as I can.”

“That’s not very reassuring.” He tried to joke, but it fell flat. They were going to part. Not for long, if they had any luck- but it was war. How often was good fortune found in the middle of battle? “I’ll wait for you.”

“And you best fight in midst of the waiting.” Y/N said- deciding to not ask him to be safe, because he would be. He would. He was a warrior and he was wise- he’d stay alive. “And try to think of better date ideas.”

Edmund smiled in spite of himself, “I’m the one with the good ideas. Yours are more hit or miss.”

Y/N chuckled softly, “Maybe a battle will give me inspiration, then. I’ll think of you anyway- may as well have that thinking be productive.”

“We’ll go on that date the moment the War’s over.” His smile softened, and they kissed once more- one last time.

The kiss lasted another few moments, before they both pulled away- and Y/N climbed onto the horse.

“G-goodbye.” Y/N almost said ‘my love’. “I’ll see you soon.”

Edmund raised his hand in farewell, not trusting himself to speak.

And then, as the horse pulled out of the paddock and just as his consort was almost out of sight- he spoke.

Well, shouted.

“Y/N!” He said, and the horse and her rider both turned.

They weren’t too close to each other, but they were close enough to hear each other.

Steeling himself, and not entirely sure his sanity was intact, he said loudly, “I love you.”

He saw Y/N’s eyes widen, and- then he fancied he saw a smile. His heart was pounding so hard, he was aware of very little except for his heartbeat and his consort’s outline against the sunset.

No- he wasn’t imagining it. He was seeing a smile. Y/N was smiling at him.

But then Y/N tugged on the reins, and the horse galloped away, and Edmund was left alone in the paddock of the Stables.

But at least he had received a smile in exchange for his impulsive declaration of love. It was far better than the rejection he had thought he was sure to get.

Impromptu Dates

Y/N and Edmund did not see each other until the siege of the giants ended two months later. They had news of each other, of course- letters tied to Ravens’ legs and messages delivered by dryads kept them, as well as every regiment fighting the Giants in the north of Narnia informed of what was happening.

And then, in the spring, the Giants surrendered, and High King Peter declared the War won, and he sent Ravens to all corners of Narnia and to the neighbouring lands to inform them of the news.

Y/N had been with Peter during the battles, while Edmund was stationed away, in a part of the land where strategy would be important to win than force. Lucy was with him, but she regularly rode far away to fight other threats that took advantage of the War to attack Narnia as well- while Susan stayed at Cair Paravel, holding down the fort in case the Giants somehow breeched their defences.

But now that the War was over, the Pevensies were to be together again, soon. Very soon, the four hoped.

Sooner than that, though, it Edmund and Y/N that were fated to reunite.

The path that Y/N was to take on the return from Y/C/N to Narnia was, coincidentally, the path that led from the Western Woods to Cair Paravel.

Edmund hadn’t spent the War there, no, but he had gone to check on his domain after it, just in case any of the White Witch’s supporters had come out of the woodwork and had tried to capture the forests once more.

(There hadn’t been anyone in the Western Woods except for one very adorable family of rabbits, and some deer that complimented his choice of swords over a bow and arrow.)

There was a brook nearby, and Y/N had taken off the armour and had washed up in that- not bathing, of course- and had managed to get some drinking water, too, since the water was cool enough. After such strenuous fighting and the wounds afflicted because of it, cold water was a must.

Y/N had decided to keep wearing the soaked tunic, as the wet fabric gave extreme relief to the hot and bruised skin.

As the horse began away from the brook, walking along a path bordered with flowers, Y/N heard something else.

Someone else.

Someone that travelled frequently with the man who had said ‘I love you’ just before their parting- and the man whom Y/N wanted to tell the same to.

It came from a bit far ahead- nearer to the mouth of the brook, where it was more a stream.

Y/N’s eyesight wasn’t the best, but the hearing was- and Philip, Edmund’s horse, had a very loud voice.

“Your Majesty.” The sienna-hued horse’s voice spoke. “Why not a bathe?”

“It’s only half a day to Cair.” Came another voice, and Y/N’s heart soared so high an attack of dizziness came. “I’ll bathe there- and it won’t do to dirty such a clean, pure stream.”

“Edmund!” Y/N shouted, almost falling off the horse.

Climbing properly off her, Y/N ran towards the sounds of the two voices.

”Edmund- Edmund-”

Edmund had his top-armour off, clad in a wet long-sleeved under-shirt, much like Y/N’s, and he had been washing his face and attempting to fill some water into his flash, even though he’d cracked it and water poured out more than it poured in.

At the sound of his consort’s voice, he dropped the flask again, and turned quickly- in alarm and quite a bit of hope.

Y/N flew at him, and they collided together, falling down onto the grass. Their arms stayed around each other, and Edmund kept calling Y/N’s name and Y/N kept calling Edmund’s, though they were clasped tight together, and neither cared that they’d landed half in the water, too.

“You’re here!” Y/N spoke into Edmund’s shoulder, clutching him tight. “What are- how- this isn’t your route-”

“Had to check on the Woods.” Edmund answered, kissing his consort’s cheek.

He was on top, and there was a grin on Y/N's face at the position, and he felt himself blush.

“You’ve been to guide your armies back to Y/C/N, yes? I thought you’d stay home for a few weeks- to rest.”

“I wanted to.” Y/N admitted- as absolutely lovely and beloved as Narnia was, there was no place like home. “But I- I had something to do in Narnia.”

Here, Philip interjected, “Good to see you again, Your Majesty!”

Y/N waved happily at the sarcastic horse, before looking back at Edmund, who was looking curious as he asked, “Official work?”

“Well.” Y/N said, and rolled them around so that their positions revered and Edmund was under. “I had to make a declaration.”

Y/N’s heart was shaking. And there were palpitations. And anxiety. A lot of anxiety. And nerves. And nausea, if one squinted.

But so much love. So much of it. It overwhelmed all else.

“What?”

His question was ignored, and Y/N went on, “And before that, I had to suggest a date idea.”

And then they kissed, beginning too soft and careful- for neither was aware of the other’s injuries- and then ending with gasps and even tighter grips on each other.

Oh, how they wanted to peel off the remaining armour and the wet tunics and make love then and there, having missed each other so painfully much- but Philip was there. They didn’t want to scar him for life- more than they already had. The poor horse had been an unwitting witness to more than one ardent snogging sessions between the two Monarchs- and, in some of those sessions, they had not been very clothed.

It haunted Philip’s nightmares, but it also gave him a lot of material to tease his rider about.

“Was that the idea?” Edmund asked hoarsely, his hand curling into his consort’s hair. He wanted to say those three words again- so, so badly. “A kissing date?”

Y/N’s swollen lips curved into a smile, “Do you mind it?”

“Not at all.” He said, thinking that all the date ideas he had had might have already been beaten- before asking, “But what’s the declaration? If it’s got paperwork, I’ll have to handle it, you know.”

He was very tired. Fighting battles was difficult. Whatever it was, he wanted to get the work done as soon as possible.

“It is a declaration to the Just King. To my darling husband.” Y/N whispered.

Oh, how could a heart possibly feel like it was creeping so high into a throat!? The anxiety was getting unbearable. It was only Edmund’s proximity and his beautiful, dark eyes gazing into Y/N’s that kept an anxiety attack at bay.

“I declare that I am absolutely and besottedly in love with you.”

“Oh.” Well, he certainly didn’t want that over with as soon as possible.

Never, in fact. He wanted it to last forever.

He smiled again, his heart aglow and both their eyes shining, and they pressed their foreheads against each other’s.

“I love you. I love you so much.”

It was the best date ever.

Vow Renewal Dates

A vow renewal ceremony is not a date, Susan tells her brother and sister-in-law repeatedly- but as far as they’re concerned, that’s exactly what it is.

It takes in a lovely meadow of flowers, and they are together, looking radiant and lovely as they gaze at each other- and they hold hands through it all. They tell each other how much they loved each other, and they promise once again to forever be by each other’s side and be joined in the bond of marriage forevermore.

Well, dates usually didn’t have parents and siblings around, but one couldn’t have everything.

They are in love, though. A love they hope would last forever, and if there’s something after that, then even then.

And it may not be everything- but it certainly does feel like it.

Thank you for reading!

259 notes · View notes

lumiolivier · 1 year ago

Text

A Taste of Ink

Rating: M for language

Ship(s): Mellodramattic (Matt x Mello)

AU: Tattoo artist!Matt, Musician!Mello

Matt's having a quiet night at his tattoo shop when an overly exhausted and rising rockstar comes to sit in his chair.

There was nothing quite like the feeling of a needle digging into the skin. The sweet mix of pain and pleasure were enough to cause addictions. As they were for one man. He didn’t do drugs or anything like that. Ever since Matt was fifteen, he loved nothing more than being under a tattoo gun. His first one was done in a stranger’s basement he snuck out of the orphanage to be at. The batteries in his Game Boy were dwindling and he couldn’t stand the boredom. It’s not like he drank. But someone had a tattoo gun and Matt was a sucker for pain.

All it took was an 8-bit heart on his wrist and Matt was hooked. That night wasn’t just the night of his first tattoo, but the night he realized what he wanted to do with his life. Matt didn’t just want to be a walking canvas. He looked at every body, every inch of skin, as a home for his artwork. And that would be more rewarding than space in any gallery. Something about his work permanently being part of someone else made him happy. So, what would any irresponsible, overly excitable, eighteen-year-old kid with a sketchbook and a dream do? He knocked on the door of his first tattoo artist and begged for a job.

He stayed there morning, noon, and night, perfecting his craft. And before Matt knew it, his mentor retired and left the shop with Matt. Did he ever think he’d be a small business owner in Los Angeles at twenty-three? No. But he wasn’t complaining. The employees respected him, despite his occasional cheeky shenanigans. His managers knew what they were doing. And he wouldn’t trade his cozy little ship for the world. From 11AM to midnight every day (with the exception of Sundays), no one would find Matt anywhere else.

One Saturday night, things at the shop were unusually slow. Matt sat at the reception desk with his Switch, content with the world. As he did any other time things were slow. Matt tuned out the office chatter. It wasn’t often it ever interested him anyway. An annoying collection of who was sleeping with who, of watercooler gossip. However, it was more so a name that caught his attention more than the pointless gossip.

“Did you hear Star 69 is in town?”

“Excuse me?” Matt perked up, his eyes all aglow. Matt was a sucker for Star 69. Indie bands weren’t normally his thing, but an angry, indie punk outfit with the electronica elements like Star 69 that had a pretty lead singer could definitely make Matt give them a try, “Did you say Star 69 is in town?”

“That’s what Twitter says. They were playing a secret show tonight.”

“I’d kill to find that show. I heard they’re amazing live.”

“They are. Caught them in San Diego once a couple years back. That shit was mind blowing.”

“What about you, Matt? You ever see Star 69 live?”

“Once.” Matt couldn’t forget that night for as long as he lived. Mostly because of the scar on his shin from losing his balance in the mosh pit. But to Matt, it was more than just a killer show. It moved him in a way he had never been moved before. It was the first time he ever listened to Star 69 in the first place. Some girl he was passively dating at the time dragged him along. As he listened to the music and closer to the lyrics coming out of the singer’s mouth, never did Matt want to hug another human being more. Not as a stalker fan, but because that connection would’ve killed a weaker man. Something in the singer’s words broke his heart, “You know what, guys? Why don’t you go home? I can handle any walk-ins. Hell, who knows? Maybe you’ll find the secret show tonight.”

“Thanks, Matt!”

“Thanks, boss! Great work today!”

“See you tomorrow!”

Matt waved them all off and slumped back over in his chair, appreciating the peace and quiet. Besides, he had screens to clear, princesses in need of rescuing. And it’s not like anyone else was coming in for the night. Half an hour before official closing time, Matt made the executive decision to close a little early. He kept a checklist in his head of the little things he could do to make the manager’s life easier in the morning. And the easiest one he could think of was sweep the floor. It wasn’t an overly large shop, so it wouldn’t take him long.

Ding, ding!

Matt jumped as the front door opened. The shop wasn’t in the greatest location, so Matt learned quickly to always keep a knife on his being. Although, when he saw the customer at the door, his heart stopped. A pretty blonde stood in the doorway in platform black leather boots and a jacket to match. The smell of leather and cigarettes coming off the chill in the air got to Matt like nothing else. In that moment, he knew what canvas he wanted next. Still, his fantasies aside, Matt had a customer at his door.

“Are you still open?” the pretty blonde asked, his voice still a bit raw. Not in the way Matt expected. Not as if he spent the last two hours screaming at an already screaming crowd, but as if he spent the last fifteen minutes crying.

“Yeah,” Matt nodded, “Can I help you?”

“Do you have to make an appointment here,” he took his sunglasses off, showing Matt those pretty blue-green eyes that got him hooked, “Or are walk-ins cool?”

“Go ahead,” Matt pulled up a chair for him, “I’m Matt. This is my shop. Do you want to see a portfolio of my work first or is there something specific you had in mind?”

“At this point,” he sat down, “I don’t care. I need a new tattoo. And I guess you can call me Mello.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mello,” Matt melted inside. He wasn’t in the least bit starstruck. He couldn’t put that simple of a label on it. Whether Matt liked it or not, he was in love.

Little did he know, he wasn’t the only one feeling something special transpire. Mello, as exhausted and upset as he was, couldn’t help but notice the work of art in front of him. Mello studied Matt’s tattoos. They were all so beautiful, even though he didn’t understand half of them. When he followed his sleeve up to Matt’s shoulder, Mello got a better look at Matt’s face. A couple piercings and a pair of goggles and Mello was hooked. So, what did he do? He flipped the script as quickly as he could, “Yeah. Whatever. You’re not the first to tell me that. Probably not the last. Look, I want something on my wrists. I’ll leave what that something is up to you, so don’t fuck this up.”

And in such few words, Mello tore Matt’s heart to shreds. He didn’t realize he did, but Mello always pushed his emotions away. He didn’t need to drag anyone else down his road of Hell, so he kept everyone at a distance. His lovers, his bandmates…It was a lonely existence. And he knew it was a lonely existence. But nevertheless, it was his existence. Even though Matt was still reeling from the verbal abuse, he knew there was something else. Because Mello wasn’t the only one who pushed people away.

“Chains,” Matt decided, “How would you feel about chains?”

“Why chains?” Mello looked at him strange, “What kind of kinky shit are you into?”

“It’s not a kinky thing,” Matt got out one of the four million notebooks he kept around and started sketching something out, “I got really good at reading people since I started working here. You start talking to clients about what they want and the stories behind them. You get invested. You start associating certain symbols with certain stories. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were just crying your eyes out not too long ago. And if you’re so quick to do this for the pain factor, you’re not in the best place mentally speaking.”

Mello sat back in absolute awe…and pure rage, “Who the fuck do you think you are, reading me like that?”

“Relax,” Matt brushed him off, “We’re the only ones here. And I can keep a pretty tight lip. Don’t worry. You’re fine.”

“So…” Mello, despite the fire burning in him, managed to calm himself down. Was it Matt’s words that got to him or was it the chocolate he kept in his pocket? The world may never know, “Why the chains?”

“I know who you are,” Matt confessed, “I know your music. I’ve never felt so connected to someone I’ve never met before.”

“Than me?” Mello wondered.

“Not trying to come off as a stalker here,” Matt assured him, finishing the general outline on his sketch, “But yeah. And that’s why I wanted to go with the chains. Because if I’m right and you’re not doing the best right now, you’re feeling trapped.”

“How…?” Mello’s voice softened.

“It’s like I said,” Matt got a marker out of the drawer, “Can I have your arm please?”

“Only if you keep going,” Mello handed over his arm.

“You’re not the only one that’s felt a little trapped,” Matt explained, drawing the chains up Mello’s arm, “Feel free to stop me anytime here.”

“Go up as high as you want,” Mello allowed.

“I think we’ll stop…here,” Matt stopped just under his elbow. That’s some thin skin up there. He doesn’t need to be in that kind of pain, “There’s a reason why I connected so much with you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mello asked, genuinely curious, “And why is that?”

“You’re like me,” Matt finished his sketch, not needing much for detail before he started. He had done a million chain tattoos in his time in the shop. He could live off the muscle memory and still make it look good, “The hopeless little orphan no one thought would make anything of themselves. Just kind of thrown away. But somehow, by some miracle, we’ve managed to rise above. Yeah, we went through some shit, but here we are on the other side. Is it out of spite? Is it out of habit? Or did we just get stupid lucky? We may never know. But maybe that’s not something we should ask about.”

“You know,” Mello scoffed, “I just came in here for a tattoo, not a therapy session.”

“I stopped going,” Matt chuckled to himself, “This was better.”

“How many tattoos do you have?”

“I don’t know,” Matt got a pair of gloves and started pouring his ink, “I stopped counting. I know I’m covered, though.”

“And how many have you done yourself?” Mello wondered, seeing if he could find them.

“Only one,” Matt kicked his leg up on Mello’s chair and pulled his pant leg up, revealing the little triceratops on the back of his calf, “I just wanted to prove a point to someone that I could not only tattoo myself, but do something upside down. That was a pain in the ass to do, so I told myself never again. Get someone else to do it.”

“Why a dinosaur?”

“Excuse me?” Matt gasped, “Why not a dinosaur? Because I needed something with absolutely no meaning. Because I wanted something out of the blue and I like a triceratops, dammit!”

“Alright!” Mello backed off, “Fucking weirdo…Maybe I should go to someone else.”

“You can’t do that,” Matt turned his gun on.

“And why’s that?”

“Because,” Matt put the needle to Mello’s arm, “I already started. I need to finish this before you leave.”

“You could’ve warned me you were starting,” Mello cringed, reveling in the pain in his arm.

“I’m sorry,” Matt bit his lip, “I wasn’t expecting you to be a baby about it.”

“Who the fuck are you calling a baby?!”

“I’m joking,” Matt giggled to himself, “Sorry. I don’t have much for a verbal filter. That connection doesn’t exist in my brain.”

“You and me both,” Mello agreed, “Hey…”

“Yes…?” Matt kept working on Mello’s arm, “Can I help you?”

“Do you mind if I vent?” Mello asked, “From one fucked up human being to another?”

“Be my guest,” Matt insisted, “I won’t stop you. Tell me as little or as much as you want.”

“Do you know why I wanted a new tattoo tonight?”

“Can’t say I do,” Matt shrugged, “Just because I can make an observation doesn’t mean I’m psychic.”

“I am kind of going through some shit,” Mello came clean, “My manager is putting the weight of the world on my shoulders. The rest of the band keeps telling me I’m abandoning them. The manager’s telling me I’m too good for them and that I should go solo, but they’re the closest I get to normal human interaction anymore, so I can’t just leave them. But at the same time, I know I’m good enough to go solo. It’s just…I don’t know. And it feels like it’s more than just that. There’s been a shit load of little things piling up and…I don’t know. It feels like…”

“Like there’s a time bomb in the pit of your stomach ready to go off at any second?” Matt figured, wiping the excess ink off Mello’s skin, “Like when there’s a little bit of quiet in your head, you can hear the ticking even louder? Like the timer keeps flickering between seconds and you don’t know what you’re going to do when it goes off?”

“Exactly…” Mello let out a little gasp.

“I told you,” Matt dipped his needle back in the ink, his heart filling with an all too familiar melancholy, “We connected.”

“I’m sorry…” Tears fell from Mello’s eyes, mixing into the black droplets on his arm, “I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. I know I should be grateful for what I have, but…Fuck, that shit gets heavy.”

“And you shouldn’t have to carry that on your own,” Matt felt his pain, “Your manager sounds like a real dick. Is there any way you can get rid of him?”

“There’s one way I’ve thought of,” Mello wiped his eyes, “But I’m pretty sure it’s illegal.”

“Murder is, in fact, a crime,” Matt chuckled a bit, “I’m talking about firing him, but I suppose we can go with hypothetical murder.”

“No,” Mello kept quiet, “That could be real murder and I would have no problem with it. He’s a prick.”

“By the sounds of it,” Matt suggested, “Maybe killing your manager isn’t the thing to do. Maybe falling off the face of the Earth would be a better idea.”

“Yeah,” Mello scoffed, “Because someone like me can do that.”

“I don’t see why not,” Matt thought, “Do something to make yourself either not stand out in a crowd or become a hermit.”

“Trust me,” Mello grumbled, “I wish I could. I’ve thought about it. If I were to just…stop existing tomorrow. It’d be nice, you know? But that’s not in the cards for me.”

“Why not?”

“Because God is rarely that kind,” Mello let out a heavy sigh.

“I don’t know,” Matt wiped his arm again, “I don’t think God and I are on speaking terms, but why don’t you just do that yourself instead of waiting around for someone to do it for you?”

“I think that’s called suicide. Been through that mess before. Don’t really want to go back.”

Matt wasn’t going to say it, but he saw all the scars on Mello’s arm. He made sure to be delicate over them, “Not necessarily suicide. You said you wanted to stop existing, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You want to stop existing in life as you know it right now, right?”

“You know…” Mello mulled it over, “Never really thought of it like that.”

“You can fall off the face of the Earth for a while,” Matt promised, “I’m sure the world would understand. And those who don’t can fuck off. You need to take care of your head once in a while.”

“Maybe you’re right…” Mello snapped back into his head, “Why the fuck am I telling you all this?”

“You needed a friend,” Matt dipped his needle, “And I can be the occasional well of wisdom. But I also have my moments where I’m an unbelievable dumbass, so tread lightly.”

“Can I ask you a serious question?”

“I prefer a non-serious question, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“Are you busy tomorrow?” Mello asked, “Are you fully booked?”

“Tomorrow?” Matt squeaked, “Nope. Shop’s closed on Sundays. The previous owner was the religious type and he refused to have the shop open on Sundays. He’d only make exceptions for massive pieces, but they’d always be after noon. Unless they were really big pieces and that’s when I’d be the one coming in. He knew what I was like. He knew my beliefs. While I was living with him, he tried getting me to go to church with him from time to time, but it never happened. Eventually, he’d give up and he wouldn’t force it on me. It was kind of nice. But he moved away to be closer to his sister and I got the shop. So, here we are.”

“I asked you if you were busy…” Mello reiterated, “That’s it.”

“Sorry,” Matt bit his tongue, “Looks like I got carried away.”

“You don’t talk to many people, do you, Matt?”

“More than you’d think,” Matt defended himself, “Just not too often it’s about me. But why do you ask?”

“Maybe…” Mello blushed a bit, “Maybe I could fall off the face of the Earth. Just for a day. It’s been years since I’ve been in LA. I’d hate to walk the streets alone. Alone is what got me into this mess. I don’t think I want to be alone anymore…You got a girlfriend?”

“Can’t say I do,” Matt sat back and admired his handiwork.

“Boyfriend…?” Mello treaded lightly.

“Don’t have one of those either,” Matt was unmoved. Mello was expecting some sort of opposition, but Matt’s coolness gave him hope, “Why?”

“Usually when someone asks if someone else is busy,” Mello rolled his eyes, “And then, asks them if they’re seeing anyone…”

Matt’s heart stopped. Just for a moment. Just long enough for the tumblers to fall into place, “Are you…Are you asking me out tomorrow?”

“If you’re not busy…”

“Well…” Matt smiled, “Forgive me for being the skeptic, but why me?”

“It’s like you said,” Mello pointed out, “We connect in a weird way. I don’t get it either. But if you could read me like an open book more than anyone else I’ve ever met in my life, there has to be something about you, right?”

“I mean…” Matt thought it over, “If you’re asking, I won’t say no.”

“Then, don’t say no,” Mello argued, “And don’t pussyfoot around it and piss me off.”

As Matt finished the last link on the chain, he wiped off the rest of the ink. He looked over his hard work, appreciating both the piece and the canvas, “What did you have in mind?”

#death note #death note fan fiction #matt x mello #matt death note #mello death note #rockstar au #tattoo artist au #mellodramattic #available for a part two #if you ask nicely

13 notes · View notes

lonelysatoru · 11 months ago

Text

one piece characters as goodwill workers

Luffy

somehow became a team lead (nobody knows how)

before he was a team lead he used to always get in trouble for always going into the breakroom for a “quick snack” (a full meal and 15 minutes laughing at the gc)

he used to never show up to work on time until he forced his roommates to come work there (roommates being zoro, sanji, and ussop)

hasn’t gotten asked to close since the time he fucked up the counting machine i the cash office so bad everyone was stuck there until 11:30pm trying to figure out how to fix it so that the store manager wouldn’t kill them (the cash machine was broken for months after)

works best in hardline

works morning shift bc that’s when sanji comes to work

usually works door because he’s super friendly and can carry a bunch of stuff inside at once

sorts through donations slow bc he gets distracted by the cool stuff

also isn’t allowed to price anymore bc he once put a vase worth $2,000 on the floor for 5.99 bc he thought it was ugly and didn’t think to look it up

whenever they get secret shopped and he’s at the door they get high scores

when ever he has to roll carts he takes forever because the regulars like to stop him and talk to him (and he could talk forever)

got banned from dressing the mannequins because he’d put the ugliest shit known to man on them for a good laugh

got employee of the month once and never ever let anyone forget it

songs along to the songs that play over the speakers EVERYDAY, regardless what song it is

uses the company card to buy food for everyone

is the person that buys cupcakes for a employee birthday or milestone 🥹

zoro

is also a hardliner

he’s only allowed to do sorting tho bc he’s rude to the people at donation door

their lowest score was when he was at the door in luffy’s absence (made a side comment about someone donating their garbage, or as he called it, useless shit)

got wrote up BAD for that too but he didn’t care

he’s better at sorting than luffy is bc he doesn’t get distracted and thinks a lot of the stuff is trashy

also always shows up to work on time and doesn’t ever miss a day

pretends to be annoyed when luffy sings along to the songs over the speaker but got super concerned the one day luffy didn’t sing along

has never gotten employee of the month and despises it so much bc sanji always makes fun of him for it

disappears for a realllyyyy long time every single day to go to the bathroom (goes to sleep for 20 minutes)

got in trouble for taking super long bathroom breaks so now he cuts his breaks down to 15 minutes and doesn’t get in trouble for it bc they don’t have the employees to fire him

usually works afternoon shifts bc that’s when ussop comes to work

only works there bc luffy begged and bribed him with the fact that they offer gym memberships through one of their programs

got banned from using the intercom bc during closing he got asked to make the closing call and went “attention goodwill shoppers. if you’re still in here at 8pm you need to get your shit and go. i wanna go home”

always takes his lunch with ussop bc he works in the front and is always willing to take him to go get something to eat if he’s still hungry after the lunch sanji packed

hates closing bc the people that show up around that time don’t leave fast enough for him

whenever he has to grab price checks from the front customers stare at him bc they think he’s hot

got made fun of by luffy bad when a grandma tried to set him up with their granddaughter after he helped her take her stuff out to the car

is the guy the cashiers call to grab stuff from top shelves

sanji

is a PRICER in hardline

works very quickly and efficiently bc he doesn’t like getting in trouble and wants to impress the store manager (happens to be nami)

has gotten employee of the month 3 times and rubs it in zoro’s face BAD

has gotten asked to help at other stores a few times and always smirks at zoro while they ask bc he knows zoro will NEVER get asked that

is always making side comments about zoro while he prices, which always leads to them fighting but they stop whenever nami comes into the back cuz they know to shape up when she’s in the area

always gets the store bonuses bc he noticed the super expensive items before they go out and sends them to ecom

they always make count when he’s the one pricing, even if it’s a slow day at the donation door

is the designated training buddy for new comers so he knows how to do everything in the store

drives luffy to work in the morning so that he’s not late

always makes lunches for zoro, ussop, and luffy (also makes lunch for nami and gets so red whenever she comments on how good his food is)

brings baked goods to work for everyone to eat sometimes and pretends he doesn’t like the praise

takes full advantage of the grocery and gas option goodwill has for workers (they pay for employees groceries and gas)

writes those stupid little praise cards for everyone in the store but swears he only writes ones for the women in the store

always goes home for his lunch break

sits in his car for his 15 minute breaks bc if he sits in the breakroom with luffy he loses track of time and they end up getting in trouble (once sat their for 40 minute cackling with luffy and a coworker)

ussop comes to him and tells him what areas in the store needed to be decorated and he keeps it in mind by putting his decorations in a different cart

when ussop calls for a price check he goes to get it to see if he’s having an anxiety attack (can always tell over the speaker no matter how crunchy it is)

when he goes up front to get price checks he never notices but people stare at him when he walks by

gets asked what kind of cologne he’s wearing everytime he steps foot out onto the floor

usopp

is a cashier

got super bad anxiety working up front by himself the first few weeks he started, but once he got used to it he was able to hide it better

gets REALLY bad anxiety when he’s left up at the front alone bc someone called out and they’re spread thin

never ever forgets to tell everyone the return policy

whenever he finally gets backup he gets told to roll carts or fill up the endcaps of the aisles until he feels calmer

dresses the mannequins bc he has the best fashion sense/eye for display out of the other employees

excels during holiday seasons bc he’s fantastic and bringing together the random donated items

always takes his lunches and 15 minutes breaks at the same time

always goes on lunch with zoro so that they can get food

was the unlucky soul who got stuck with luffy until 11:30 when he fucked up the cash machine

begs nami to switch the station to the throwback station every thursday bc at night when everyone’s gone he gets to sing along to california girls at the top of his lungs (zoro always tells him to shut up)

gets pretty good reviews when the secret shoppers comes to his register bc he’s super easy going and will have a conversation with anyone

knows all the tea in the store and more often than not ends up sitting with nami in her office or while they price new goods and just GOSSIPS

keeps trying to convince sanji to become a store manager since he knows how to do every job in the store

nami

is the store manager

rules the store with a iron enough grip that they know not to mess around too much, but loose enough that everyone knows they can come to her with anything and talk

isn’t super strict about the dress code unless one of the big bosses is coming

she loosely follows the rules and policies goodwill sets in place if she thinks they’re stupid

for example: there’s a rule that employees can’t buy the color of the week. but she’ll let you buy the color of the week if you want it (she just doesn’t give them the employee discount)

lowkey hates being the store manager bc she always has a ton of paper work and meetings and emails to tend to like everyday

prefers to help in softline over hardline bc luffy’s off key singing makes her head hurt. plus sanji and zoro’s bickering also irritates her

on the rare occasions one of them isn’t there she’ll go back there and stay bc usually luffy without zoro/ zoro without luffy is just less annoying

is super serious about everyone making count and sending stuff to ecom bc she wants her bonuses (also bc if they can reach their budget continuously the workers can get raises but she’ll never say that)

whenever a customer is being rude to her workers they know to call her bc she’ll kick them to the curb IMMEDIATELY, regardless of if they were gonna pay for their things or not

gave zoro the title of “security guard” bc if a customer is particularly aggressive she gets on the unofficial pokémon walkies and calls for him. as soon as he comes out from the back and the trouble maker sees him they ALWAYS take the base outa their tone and leave 😭

okay i’m all outa ideas 🫡

#text post #one piece #one piece hcs #one piece headcanons #zoro headcanons #luffy headcanons #usopp headcanons #nami headcanons #luffy one piece #roanoa zoro #usopp #sanji headcanons #sanji one piece

15 notes · View notes

banisheed · 2 years ago

Text

TIMING: Some time ago LOCATION: Regis Coleslaw's Apartment PARTIES: Siobhan and Emilio SUMMARY: In 2018, Regis Coleslaw posed for a new employee at Shift Space, Inc. Overworked, underpaid and underappreciated, Regis forced herself to smile as widely as she could. She was looking forward to a quiet night in her apartment, curled up with her cat and her succulents. She cut across the Wormwoods, hoping for a shortcut. In 2023, Siobhan Dolan hires Emilio Cortez to help locate the woman she thinks she's looking for. They discover the outcome of Regis's shortcut and the reality of living half-lives.

—

The piss-boy, Emilio Cortez, could not be trusted. What sort of man didn’t know how to potty train a dog, was poor, had an office that looked either like a bad noir film or a high-budget porno? And what was PI if not the first two letters in ‘piss’? No, Siobhan had to make sure this was done yet. If Regis Coleslaw was her banshee, she needed to be there. Regis would like to see a friendly and beautiful face, she thought. Instead of the unfriendly, but still beautiful, face of Emilio. Yes, one thing the piss-boy did have going for him was his looks. It was tragic they were wasted on someone so poor and stupid. “I doubt Regis Coleslaw would live in a hovel such as this,” Siobhan commented loudly, waving at the dilapidated building they were approaching. When she’d gotten word that Emilio was hot on the trail of Regis, she’d come along without invitation or notice or apology. Which was typically how she went anywhere. “Are you sure your information is correct? I expected less…” She pointed to the small pile of trash bags by the door, buzzing with an orchestra of flies. “…let’s just say I expected it to look less like your office did.”

—

Most of his clients weren’t particularly involved in the cases they gave him. That was to be expected. People hired a PI to find information they couldn’t or didn’t want to obtain themselves, and part of that fee covered the convenience of not having to do any of the dirty work. Emilio liked it that way. Only having to speak to the client once or twice before getting paid worked for him. But… This latest client was different.

She was definitely weird. Emilio wasn’t entirely sure what brand of weird she was — he was learning that ‘supernatural’ weird and ‘normal person’ weird had a lot of unexpected overlap — but there was no denying the strangeness. When she’d shown up at his door just before he headed out to the address he’d found listed for Regis Coleslaw, he wasn’t even particularly surprised. Annoyed, sure, but not surprised. At least the case would be over soon. They’d find this Regis person, he’d get the rest of his fee, and that would be that. He was really looking forward to it.

“This is the address on file,” he replied gruffly, wondering how pissed she’d be if he pulled out his flask. Talking to her was making the idea of drinking more and more tempting. “I’m sure. Look, maybe they’re just hiding out. Sometimes, people don’t want to be found. Hiding out in a place you wouldn’t expect them to be just makes them smart.” She seemed to think highly of Regis, so playing on that might be the best way to quell her complaints here. Or he could stab her. He was really starting to like the idea of stabbing her. “If they’re not here, they’re not here. And you didn’t have to come, by the way. Actually, I think I remember specifically telling you not to.”

—

Siobhan’s face crinkled together. “When you hide away for enough years, you start to realize that living in squalor is the last thing you want.” At least, by the first decade for Siobhan, she’d started to hate radiators and squeaky floorboards and making her bed out of suspiciously stained pillows she’d taken from the dumpster. She was still miserable but at least she was miserable in style. Emilio might learn that lesson one day, though he’d probably die before he got there. A shame. Siobhan turned her attention to the building again. The roof seemed to be caved in and the windows shattered--the jagged glass that remained made her think they’d been broken by impact rather than scream. “One day, Emilio,” she spoke idly, her eyes still focused on the windows, “you’re going to realize that the best cure for sadness is a lot of money; run your next business out of a penthouse.”

Siobhan’s attention returned to the piss-boy again. “Oh?” She grinned at him. “But then how would we bond? If I hadn’t come, think of all the silence you’d be having right now! How dreadful.” She clicked her tongue against teeth, tutting. “My charm and likeability are saving you from a boring experience; you’re welcome, by the way. I accept payment in bones.” And finally, her attention snapped to the door. It was falling off its hinges, with one push--she was sure--it would topple over. It didn’t look locked. It didn’t look like it had been locked in years. “Do we…knock?”

—

“Some people would call it safer,” he pointed out. Having money, from what he could tell, meant having eyes on you. People noticed the rich in ways they didn’t notice guys like Emilio, who lived in run-down apartments. When things were hard to look at, the natural result was that people looked at them less. For someone in hiding, that was a very tempting thing. This building would be a good place for someone who didn’t want to be found. If Regis fit that bill, it made sense that they’d chosen it to hide out in. “There are plenty of things money can’t get you. A penthouse wouldn’t solve much for me.” It would still be empty of the people he’d want to fill it. He had no desire for that. People would also have a lot more expectations of a PI firm run from a penthouse, and even if he did somehow come into the kind of money Siobhan seemed to think he needed in order to escape ‘squalor,’ his personality still wouldn’t be one that could provide that.

At Siobhan’s instruction, Emilio did, in fact, think of the silence he would have been experiencing in this moment had she not tagged along. It would have been a wonderful thing. Certainly preferable to this conversation. He sighed, mourning its loss. “What is it with you and bones?” This was the second time she’d mentioned them. Specifically, wanting them. He wasn’t sure he saw the appeal. Looking to the door, he weighed his options. “Depends,” he decided, glancing back to her, “is Regis Coleslaw going to make a break for it if they see you?”

—

“Who cares about safety?” Siobhan replied softly, staring at the woodgrain of the broken door. She had done her part being smart and safe, flinching at every flutter of grass or rustle of leaves--thinking some gaggle of pixies would think she was the next fun target. A traitor could never be safe. What was worse then? That she realized in time that with nothing to lose, she had nothing to fear, or that no one had ever come for her? She was forgotten and all her fear was a strange, self-important desire. Regis might have thought she was forgotten too and what was worse? That the woman who had everything chose to leave or that Siobhan envied her? Perverse as it was, she wished someone would knock her door down and remind her that she mattered at all to someone at some point. If they came, they’d find she didn’t care about losing her shiny car or decades worth of baubles. Her back burned with the memory of her mother’s vicious hands pulling at her wings. She rolled her shoulders. “We’re all going to die one day, you might as well let it come in style.”

Emilio’s words snapped her out of her mind and she turned to face him. “We all have our things; yours is piss and mine is bones,” she smiled easily, finding the rhythm of hurting someone else easy under the talon-grip of her own sadness. Emilio was nothing more than a therapeutic punching bag and Regis was nothing more than a means to an end. She’d have a life with purpose and family again, and that would be that. “Regis Coleslaw doesn’t know what I look like,” Siobhan sighed. “She has no idea who I am, even, and I have no idea how she might feel about me.” Siobhan didn’t care either. If Regis was in a place like this, she must have been afraid of the banshees of saol elie; Siobhan had already lost the battle of a good impression. “What does it matter? I want her. I don’t care how I get her, I just need her alive.” She sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Now are we knocking or can we stop pretending like this door is even locked?”

—

“You’d be surprised.” Emilio might not put a lot of stock in his own safety these days but if being a detective had taught him anything, it was that other people did. He’d had plenty of cases that took the form of someone just trying to ensure they were safe in one way or another. Sometimes, they needed leverage on someone else, dirt that they could use to cover their own back and ensure mutually assured destruction if they needed it. Other times, that desire for safety came in the form of asking him to find someone whose location was unknown, either because they would feel safer knowing where they were or because they needed them close in order to feel all right. Most people were only trying to be safe, whatever that looked like. Siobhan, it seemed, was the exception to that. It was a little refreshing, even if she was annoying. “Doesn’t matter if you die in style or not. You’re just as dead either way.”

He rolled his eyes at her statement, gritting his teeth just a little. “That isn’t my thing.” Not that he knew what his thing was. Something depressing, most likely. A bottle of whiskey, a dirty knife. Nothing worth having, but still better than whatever it was she had going on with bones. The Regis Coleslaw mystery seemed to be growing more and more with each stone he uncovered. Siobhan was looking for someone who didn’t know who she was or how she might feel. She needed this person alive. She didn’t know what she looked like, but she thought the idea that she’d live in a crumbling apartment was preposterous. There was definitely something odd about the whole situation, but… Emilio wasn’t getting paid for those questions. He was getting paid for this.

Deciding knocking was a risk, he shrugged. “All right, all right. We can just…” The hair on the back of his neck stood up. That familiar almost-nausea tugged at his gut, persistent and loud. He heard footsteps on the other side of the door, but the only heartbeats he could hear were his and Siobhan’s. There was a low noise, like an animal growling. Cursing, Emilio grabbed Siobhan by the arm and yanked her out of the way just as the door burst open to reveal twisted features and red eyes. Christ. Not only was Siobhan’s Regis Coleslaw a fucking vampire, she was a feral one. Letting out a mangled cry, the vampire leaped forward, going straight for his client’s throat. “¡Puta madre! Maldita cosa estúpida…” He couldn’t exactly get paid if his client was eaten, and Regis Coleslaw seemed too far gone to reason with, so Emilio yanked out his stake, grabbing the vampire by the shoulder and yanking it backwards, throwing it back into the apartment and rushing after it.

Maybe it was good that Siobhan had come with him after all. He got the feeling that this one would have been hard to explain otherwise.

—

Siobhan did not enjoy being yanked, but she could forgive the act when the cause was a starved vampire. The creature streaked across her vision, closing into her. She smiled in its face--her face, though gender was a construct very far from the mind of the creature. Once upon a time, maybe, it might have been a ‘her’. Siobhan could see the tattered remains of a pastel floral skirt and a sensible white blouse; the pieces of a personality that were lost. “Can I interest you in a mint or…?” But before the creature could meet her neck in a not-so-sexy bite, it was off of her and focused on Emilio. “No! Not Emilio! He’s too sexy to die now!” Not that he was, she would’ve screamed if he was, but Fate could still change and Siobhan had no preferences either way. As long as it wasn’t her sweet blood being made a meal of. “If you eat him, leave me his bones!” She called out into the murky depths of the dilapidated apartment. “Emilio, I realize you have a stake and that means you know how to use it but I just think if I’m going into business with a slayer I should be warned beforehand so I can prepare my wood jokes.”

She followed the sounds of struggle, watching Emilio with the thin body of someone who once loved sensible-office-lady fashions. “You’re doing a wood job right now.” She paused, running a hand through her hair as a frustrated sigh slipped through her lips. “See? I would be doing so much better if you just let me prepare.” She leaned up against the broken door frame, arms crossed over her chest. “If it makes you feel more confident,” she called out over the sounds of their struggle, “you’re not actually going to die. Not yet, at least. Oh, but you are dying whittle by whittle every day.” Maybe when Emilio was done fighting, he would admit that one was a good joke.

—

At this point, Emilio could fight a feral vampire in his sleep. He’d been doing shit like this since he was a child, had been tossed in rooms with feral beasts before he had a sound grasp on what those beasts were. It was almost a comfort, having something as familiar as a vampire to fight. What was less familiar was Siobhan’s commentary. “Not helping,” he called back in her direction, ducking to avoid the vampire’s attempt to bite his neck. She wouldn’t have liked what she found there, of course — slayer blood wasn’t a very tasty snack — but he’d still like to avoid having his throat torn out if at all possible. Although, if the alternative was hearing Siobhan’s best ‘wood jokes,’ maybe bleeding out in Regis Coleslaw’s shitty apartment wouldn’t be so bad. “You’re not getting my pinche bones. Stop asking.”

Feral vampires were strong, but stupid. There wasn’t much difference between this and a spawn, when you got down to it. Sure, maybe with enough blood, this one could get back to something resembling human eventually, but right now? That just wasn’t an option. If it was kill or be killed here, Emilio would take the former if only to avoid the embarrassment of being murdered by a fairly killable vampire in front of someone who would almost certainly pick apart his corpse and make off with his femur after. He glanced back curiously as Siobhan assured him that he wasn’t going to die with all the confidence of someone who knew it for a fact, narrowing his eyes momentarily. The suspicion couldn’t last, of course; not with Regis Coleslaw doing her damndest to make a meal out of his throat.

Turning back to the fight, Emilio grunted and shoved the vampire off of him and into a coffee table which shattered with the force of the impact. It didn’t do much to slow the vampire down, but it did put Siobhan back into its line of sight. It moved for the professor again, and Emilio barely managed to grab it by the hair and yank it back again, turning it and pulling it onto his stake. There was a moment of quiet then, a heartbeat where it seemed the vampire was registering its own death before it collapsed into a pile of dust all over the front of Emilio’s shirt. Great. “All right,” he said, dusting off his shirt as best he could, “there you go. Regis Coleslaw. Sorry there’s no bones, but have some dust.”

—

Siobhan wasn’t sure why ‘slayer battles vampire’ wasn’t a national broadcast sport but she was, at that moment, convinced it would make for wonderful TV. Not only was Emilio sufficiently stressed, annoyed and still bursting with that hunter determination, but the former Regis Coleslaw made a beautifully tragic case. Being in the ‘splash zone’—as it was now known in the sport of slayer watching—Siobhan enjoyed a level of personal thrill. When the vampire came for her again, Siobhan remained smiling. And as Emilio predictably pulled the creature away from her, leaving Siobhan unharmed and only a little disappointed, she wondered if she could sell this experience for a few hundred dollars.

As Emilio rose, dusting the remains of Regis Coleslaw off of him, Siobhan frowned. “You couldn’t have extended this a little? I was having a grand time over here.” Of course, ‘slayer battles vampire’ wouldn’t be so profitable if the vampires were done too quickly. It was a conundrum that she wouldn’t ponder again outside of this moment as she would inevitably forget to. She frowned again. “No thank you on the dust, it clogs my pores.” She gestured to her face as if to demonstrate that her having clogged pores would be an extreme tragedy. “I still have a few wood jokes in me, but I guess you have to leaf now.” Did that count? Siobhan was counting it. She stepped closer, staring down at the spot the vampire had once been. She held no sympathy for the undead, the abominations that they were, but there was always something strange in seeing someone here one moment and then knowing that they were gone forever in the next. Death, even when it happened to those already dead, was an emptying feeling—being upturned and shaken out over an endless pit. She reached down and picked up the ID card that had snapped off her shirt when her body exploded into dust. It was the clip-on sort of work ID and sure enough the woman had been named Regis Coleslaw and one day in 2018 she had posed for a photo with a big smile on her face. She had brown eyes and brown hair and a small arrangement of freckles across her nose.

Siobhan turned to Emilio, who had finished the job she’d hired him to do by all accounts. She flipped the ID around towards him. “Do you ever think about this? Or are they all just monsters to you? All the way through?” Siobhan didn’t ask because she cared, but it was a curiosity that played in her mind. Her fingers tightened around the clip. “You’re free to leave, by the way, I think I’ll stay to see if Regis ate someone whose bones I can pilfer—Hm, is it pilfering if they’re dead? Repurpose. Whose bones I can repurpose.” She smiled. “You’ll have your money by the end of the day, I’ll deliver it to your piss office. But before you go, if you could…” She rattled the ID. “I’m curious; indulge me.” And no, she would not be thanking him though he did objectively save her life—it didn’t count if she wasn’t really going to die anyway.

—

Christ, Siobhan looked so smug about the whole thing. Like it was a game, like it was something funny that was happening on a television screen and not a potentially deadly fight right in front of her. It wasn’t hard to guess that she knew something was ‘different’ about Wicked’s Rest, but Emilio was beginning to wonder if she might actually have a few screws loose to go along with the knowledge. Most people were at least a little concerned when a vampire went for their throat. Siobhan was smiling.

“Didn’t feel like letting her take a bite out of you. You might not have paid me if she had,” he replied dryly, though his expression betrayed some interest in the cavalier way she walked into the apartment. “Guess we’ll leave it for the maid, then.” Another joke; it was clear from the state of the apartment that Regis Coleslaw hadn’t had a maid. From the looks of things, she might not have even owned a vacuum. At least Siobhan’s pre-existing knowledge of the undead meant Emilio wouldn’t have to stay around to explain things to her.

Though it did not, apparently, save him from all explanations.

He looked down at the ID badge, at the smiling photograph of the person who’d once been inside the creature he’d just turned to dust. The smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, something he’d noticed was common with staged photos. If you wanted to really capture someone, it couldn’t be by telling them to smile. In the photo, Regis Coleslaw looked a little tired. Like working at Shift Space, Inc. had exhausted her even before her badge was printed. There were more hints of her lost humanity scattered around the apartment than there were in that picture, of course. The shoes tucked under the sofa. The wilting plants hanging by the window. The fan whirring from the bedroom. She’d been a person, once.

But not anymore.

“She was too far gone,” he said, looking to Siobhan with a shrug. “In a state like that… If she hadn’t killed someone already, she was going to. And maybe she would have come back to herself, after, but it would have been too late. Some people you can save. Some people you can’t. Being able to recognize that is the only thing that’ll stop somebody from losing their goddamn mind.” He plucked the name badge from between her fingers, tossing it over to the coffee table. Eventually, someone would come looking for Regis Coleslaw and find an empty apartment and a name badge. Maybe they’d tell themselves she’d gone off somewhere, found a better life. Maybe that’d be better for everyone.

Deciding not to question the bone thing — there was some shit that Emilio really didn’t want to know about — the detective turned to walk towards the door. He paused under the archway, tapping his knuckles against the doorframe absently. “I’m charging an extra fee,” he informed her. “Stabbing’s not included in the base price. Good luck with your bones.” And then, he was gone.

—

Siobhan had been raised on rights and wrongs: right to be a banshee, wrong to be a human, right to be a devout servant, wrong to have any emotion. Hunters sometimes shared the same blacks and whites that she could comprehend: all vampires bad, all fae evil, humans good. Emilio’s response sucked the amusement right from her. It was a sensible answer, of course, but Siobhan lived in the gray that he had set out. Some people could be saved. Some couldn’t. It seemed like another black and white but one so strange in its idea; some people could be saved. Some people could be saved. Some. People. Could. Be. Saved.

Siobhan watched the ID sail through the air. She didn’t know what Emilio meant. For the first time in her life, she had encountered a sentiment so bizarre that she couldn’t parse it. The individual words she understood: some meaning not all. People meaning people. Could meaning possible to happen. Be meaning can be done. Saved meaning…

Siobhan swallowed. Behind her, the dull thudding of Emilio’s receding footsteps echoed through the room. His voice went off, something about charging more; it was funny, Emilio could be funny when he wanted, she realized. His voice was a little deeper than Siobhan thought it would be for his face, she noticed that before but the hollowness of Regis’s apartment accentuated it. He wished her good luck. He was gone. Some people, he said, could be saved. Siobhan burst out at once, bubbling over with questions: what did he mean? Saved from what? Who counted? How could he tell them apart? Did this make him an arbitrator of salvation? Saved meaning what? How could someone be saved?

Siobhan picked up the tattered remains of Regis’s clothes, folding each article and setting it aside neatly on the cushion of the sofa. She pulled the shoes that were underneath until they sat out like they were ready to be worn. She grabbed the ID Emilio had thrown and laid it to rest on Regis’s sensible blouse. Her dust went in the nicest Tupperware container Siobhan could find from the kitchen and she put that out on the coffee table. For the next hour, Siobhan sat beside everything that remained of Regis and pretended she knew what salvation felt like.

#i love bex and i love emilio #regis in peace #writing #s1 #c: emilio #another regis bites the dust

6 notes · View notes

definitely-mothman · 1 year ago

Text

The Reflection of a Prince Ch 3

I’m really bad at making summaries, but in a nutshell, this is an Overblot! Jade Leech fic, with the Original Characters belonging to Royal Sword Academy, specifically for a fandom based on the Little Mermaid. • A gala approaches, on not one land, but two, and split in half, what other choice does a Prince have to do? But beware in the past, there is an eye that still watches. Who remembers, who plots and hides teeth in the darkness.

AO3 Link

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Ch 3 in Read More

Azul was flipping through finance files, about 7 in the morning according to his watch. It was the best time in the week to put together the documents for each days’ sales and costs, along with calculating the salary for employees for the biweekly basis. It was unusually quiet, although it didn’t bother him at the moment. It was still somewhat early, and the silence made it easier to focus.

It was only logical such silence should be rudely interrupted by annoying text vibrations on the wood desk.

“Hey do you like. Have the attendance sheets for the Board Game Club on hand rn.”

Right side top drawer, folder at the very front. Divider is by year…there it was.

“Yes I have them in the Lounge. Is Crowley asking for them already?”

“Kinda I mean. Yeah. He didn’t do this shit last year, says it’s bc of the festival thingy. BS tbh.”

“Do you want me to run them over in the next few minutes?”

“It doesn’t have to be like right now now, but around 7:30-7:45ish would be coolio, plus I’ll be actually awake at that point lol.”

Set the papers aside, set phone timer for 7:30. He’d likely just ask Jade or one of the third years to carry those over. The logistics of having the main keys for the lounge and having to cross campus not long before opening the back entryways for early shifts just seemed too annoying.

“Ok, someone will come by 7:40 at the latest.”

“Man I thought you’d do it ;-; you always send your Vice to do it and ngl he scares the shit outta me dude”

“That doesn’t sound like my issue, Idia.”

“I mean I’ll gladly accept paperwork from anyone in your dorm who isn’t in the top 3 tiers of the ‘Would Murder Me’ list. Like seriously there’s gotta be someone dude.”

“Any of them would likely lose the papers or be late. It’s not my issue he has an intimidating air carrying out benign errands.”

It was about 7:15.

“Bro tf you mean ‘intimidating air’ that implies it’s like. Accidental, and not him creating the comforting aura of a slasher villain. Idk how you survive interacting with him for most of the day. If I got locked in a room with either Leech for like 30 minutes I’d probably kms to get out faster.”

“I’m sure he’d find that quite humorous to hear. Anyways, it's not my problem, and I have things to do so I’m going to go silent for a while.”

“Alr whatever you’re like 100% serial killer victim number one tho.”

He put down the phone on the desk, mentally rolling his eyes.

It wasn’t the first time he’d heard a qualm like this about Jade, especially not from Idia. It was strange to keep hearing, probably because he just couldn’t see what it was everyone was so…afraid of. In a competitive setting, it was logical for even him to be wary of Jade as a long-game player and as someone very good at concealing his hand. But in terms of just normal school life, it just didn’t make sense. At the worst, Jade liked to poke psychologically in the same way Floyd did physically. Instead of chasing and manhandling, it was done with subtle body language and straight faced teasing. Once you wrapped your mind around how the game worked, it was actually quite fun to play in return, although for a completely anti-social loner like Idia, it didn’t seem like much fun.

He may have come across as strange or snakelike, but Azul had a level of trust in him that provided a sense of ease. At the very least, if Jade had wanted him dead, it would have happened already. He made him tea or coffee every morning, and Azul couldn’t think of the last time he’d even had a second thought at drinking what was placed on his desk.

Speaking of which. He hadn’t drank anything all morning, and the lack of hydration was beginning to make his early morning energy wear off. Usually they were both up around the same time.

He left the VIP lounge, heading back towards the shared communal space, including the small kitchen the dormitory shared. The tea bags he used were typically in one of the top shelves of the cabinet farthest from the shared fridge. He put some water in a pan and turned on the stove, sitting the bag’s string over the side. There was a kettle in the shared area, but it was nowhere to be seen, so he’d have to make do.

The tea that he had made wasn’t perfect, but it was fine enough. Octanivelle students set for the early shifts had started to trickle in, and Floyd stumbled in behind them. A bit earlier than he normally woke up, but well within his range.

“Hey Floyd. It’s odd having you be the first one up.”

Floyd slid over, propping against the island. He still looked a bit tired.

“Huh? Jade left our room like. A few hours ago. At least, I think so. Idk, I was half-asleep.”

“A few hours ago? I haven’t run into him all morning. I was going to ask him to run some papers over to Ignihyde.”

“I could run them over lol-“

“It’s fine, you can handle opening, I’ll just run them myself. Was he running off to do the headcounts he mentioned yesterday?”

“Idk, probably? He sometimes dips out in the middle of the night to do something-or-another, I figure it’s just that.”

“…I wasn’t aware he did that. I doubt anyone at RSA is awake enough for him to get any reasonable survey numbers at this hour.”

“Eh, who knows. I’m not worrying about it personally. Probably went off early to maybe hike over there instead of taking the bus. I could see him doing something like that.”

“Oh, ok. If you're not worried-“

“By the way, when are you supposed to be taking the papers over?”

“Um,” Azul checked his watch again. It was 7:39 already, and the walk across campus would probably take some 7 minutes. Shit.

“I should probably go now; I’m already behind schedule.”

“Alrighty then, have fun. I need the key ring though to open.”

“Right, right.” He took the Lounge key ring off of his belt loop, and took the trenchcoat off his shoulders and dug through the pockets for the VIP lounge key. There. When he took his hand out though, he had two keys.

He couldn’t remember which key this was, and with how often he absentmindedly put them in various pockets, it was any guess when he’d put it there. He handed off the known key to Floyd, and put the second one back.

With that, he returned to the office space, collecting the papers, and then headed towards the mirror for the main campus.

For Azul’s taste, it was an eerily lonely morning.

• • •

“I’m good to meet up whenever you are.”

It was almost 5 in the afternoon, and students were flowing to and from Coralliadom, mostly to leave campus to get dinner or head towards the cafeteria. Rielle hovered over the message, and panned his gaze over to his Housewardens’ staff. He went over and took it up, gripping 3 fingers around the magestone and prying it out. He put the stone in his right interior pocket.

“Aight. I’ll head out that way. Should I turn my GPS on to make it easier or smthn?”

“Sure.”

He flicked it on, and began to make his way out of the dormitory. He left the staff in his room to not raise any sort of suspicion, but held onto his pen. He managed to slip Claude’s visage in this escape attempt, sliding through the mirror and booking it across campus towards the gate. It was actually quite invigorating, sneaking off like this. See, I told you I could take care of myself! The gate was open, and Rielle slipped in with the crowd of leaving students, removing the outer RSA jacket and bundling it under his arm. Just before the bus stop, he broke off, awkwardly trotting down the incline and breaking off into the tree cover surrounding the campus.

He had to walk for a while before eventually running into the Octanivelle kid, about 3 minutes. Curly brunette hair almost covered their eyes completely, and their poise seemed too calm for how they talked over text.

Whatever, people were usually more casual over text anyways, right? Not like he had another option at this point anyways.

“Heyo-! I made it, sorry if I was a bit late.”

“It’s fine, I made sure to set time aside so I’d be good if you were. Do you have the stuff I asked for?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it right here.”

Rielle took a small jewelry box out of his pocket, one that you’d normally keep earrings in. He handed it over to the student, who opened it, eyes glazing over the inside.

“Spit vial thing, hair is in a vial, the clippings are just in the box bc I figured that was fine, and the empty vial is the…song? Idk if you just wanted me to sing into a vial, so that’s what I did, sorry if that wasn’t what you wanted.”

“Oh that’s fine.” He closed the box lid, and put it in the pocket of his dorm uniform, which went almost below his knees.

“Are you guys’ uniforms that long? Based on the photos, I always thought they hit like, mid-thigh at the longest.”

“Oh, this isn’t my uniform.” The kid took out a small glass dish, and sat it over a bundle of tinder he’d piled on the ground. “I spilled some shit on mine earlier this week, so I had to borrow my roommates. He’s like, a good foot taller than me, haha.”

His voice seemed a little…stiff, despite how casual his words were. The student looked up towards Rielle, expression a bit nervous.

“Uh, did you bring a water bottle or something by chance? I would’ve brought one myself for the potion but I didn’t think about it. I mean, I can just use a water spell I guess, but I haven’t eaten a lot today and my magic’s probably a little shaky because of it.”

“Oh, no worries, I’ll do it. Did you skip lunch or something?” Rielle clicked his magestone into his pen, and with a small flick formed about two cups’ worth of water inside the dish.

“Thanks, and no, I didn’t bring much money when I made my way over here so I couldn’t grab anything substantial in Craneport.”

“Oh. Well, you’ll need my ID to get into the dorm anyways, so don’t worry about using it to get meal swipes. Claude will hound you-me if he sees you being the slightest bit winded. Wait-“

Rielle took out his phone, and began texting rapidly. The students’ phone pinged several times back to back.

“Ok I sent you the itinerary for the day of, so that you’ll be ready for that, and also the sheet music for the musical performance on Friday.”

“Musical…performance?”

“Yeah, I am/was doing a pretty singing number for the gala thingy- but you’re taking on my singing voice anyways so you’ll be good. There’s 5 days anyway to get the hang of it, and you won’t be on stage alone!”

“O-oh. Ok.”

The student began to dump the contents into the water, and lit a small fire on the tinder beneath the dish with his pen.

“I could’ve done that, yknow.”

“Oh, sorry. Just didn’t think about it.”

“Lol, you don’t have to say sorry. Just don’t want you to overexert yourself.”

The kid took a small twig nearby to stir the mixture, using his other hand to control the flame, it spinning to a light blue color. He was murmuring something under his breath, but Rielle couldn’t make out whatever incantation he was saying. Maybe saying it really quietly was a part of it?

In a moment, the small whirlpool in the mixture tinted to a bright red, and spread out within the dish. A small smile briefly appeared on the kid’s face, and he put the twig to the side, taking a small necklace out of his pocket.

“Oh, that’s the jewelry item?”

“Yeah. I’m using this one specifically because I’ve been able to get it to work with other magic properties like this already. No worries for me about it not working.”

“It’s so…cute. Is it an actual nautilus shell? It looks a bit more worn and dirty than the ones you see in shops. And it’s so tiny!”

“Yeah, it’s an actual shell, a friend of mine picked it out for me, we were pretty little at the time. So that’s why it’s kinda small.”

“So I’m guessing the string on it is more recent so it fits your neck? Lol.”

“Yeah, I’ve changed the string a million times at this point, hah.”

Again. That slightly strained voice, enough to notice but not noticeable enough for Rielle to want to bring attention to it.

The Octanivelle student took the twig he’d sat down, and stuck it firmly in the ground. Taking the necklace’s string and catching it on the twig, he dipped the shell down into the potion, where it began to glow a pale white within the liquid.

“Ah, yeah. The contract scroll. I almost forgot about it.”

He took a golden paper out of his pocket, along with a slightly decorative pen. It was folded several times into a little square, and once unfolded the top portion was too crinkled to properly read. But most of it was legible, and listed everything they’d spoken about over text, word for word. Rielle panned over the language, checking for any small print. He may have had no other choice, but he’d barter if he needed to.

“The only small text on there is about you being liable if the Unique Magic offered in the contract expires before you return to trade places with me again.”

“And that time would be…”

“Friday, about 11pm. An hour and a half after the gala hosted in your dorm will have ended. I just don’t want to be stuck up there. Do you want the pen? I thought you’d take it already-“

“How did you do this? This is a Unique Magic in and of itself, dude! Did you actually get your Housewarden to write one up for you? Like an IOU or something?”

“…can’t say. Secrets of the trade, lol. I don’t wanna lose my chances of getting deals like this in the future, you know?”

The student smiled, but the emotion didn’t quite reach the shine in his eyes. As if they carried two different people. I suppose that was Octanivelle for you. Rielle took up the pen, and carefully signed his name, drawing a smile heart above the i.

He absentmindedly handed the paper and pen back over, and dropped his RSA jacket onto the ground. The guy would probably need it if he wanted to slip back onto campus.

“There you go. I should probably text my parents about now and head off towards the hall of mirrors. Pretty much no one’s walking around campus right now, although you might wanna wait a few minutes before going into campus.”

“Alright, I have to wait for this to finish up anyways. Hope you have fun at the family gathering.”

“Yeah, I will! Thanks for doing me a solid, man.”

“Don’t even worry about it.”

Rielle finally got up from a squat on the ground, turning and heading back towards the campus.

He couldn’t have left soon enough. The illusory potion put together that morning was only meant to last about an hour. Even now, teal was beginning to push through the brunette hair, which was now falling to the ground at an alarming rate. He hadn’t even bothered to notice the contacts that already matched his eye color, or how squatting down disguised his clothing slowly fitting more snugly. The potion let off a sweet-smelling steam. It was done.

Taking the string off from around the twig, the necklace was pulled from the solution, and now it had a beautiful yellow gleam. He took off the Mostro Lounge jacket, covering a simple white dress shirt like those worn in RSA. The jacket and hat was placed into a pile along with the glass dish, and with a gentle wave of his pen, the pile burst into a large flame.

The necklace’s string fit perfectly to his head, and the nautilus shell was tucked beneath the shirt collar. He imagined how it looked outside of himself. Thin, siren eyes becoming like that of a doe, merging in and out as if both were mirages. A pale glow flowing down the edge of his hair, it growing vibrant red, and growing longer as the glow went down, beyond his hair’s end. The shell felt as though it could replace his own heart with how warm it felt against his chest.

Finally, he opened his mouth, feeling up and down the foreign vocal chords. The sweet, silky sound that left his mouth. That voice which was far too beautiful to belong to him. He stood and straightened his back, and lightly lifted his eyebrows along with the corners of his mouth, trying to make it look natural. Speak with your throat, keep your balance on the left side instead of in the middle. Pretend as though your head is filled with helium.

“Hey guys! Sorry I’m back late, I got kinda sidetracked, went on a stroll and lost track of time. But…you forgive me, right?”

5 notes · View notes