#he’s not withdrawn; he shares what he wants.

[mcondance]

playing around with druig’s character and watching his scenes and i just had an epiphany

[princessbellecerise]

Nameday Celebration

Summary ✩ Call it recklessness or sheer stupidity, but Benjicot is determined not to miss his lovers nameday…Even if it means sneaking into enemy territory for the night

Warnings ✩ Smut, oral sex, established relationship, brief mention of violence, fingering, foul language

The music around you was loud, and though it was quite merry, it did nothing to lift your spirits as you sat at the high table.

All around you, you were surrounded by the happy chatter of other lords and ladies that had travelled from all over to be here. Some of them even shared the same last name as you did, Bracken. But even though the evening was filled with music and light, warmth and laughter from your family, you still felt…disappointed.

You felt terrible, of course, sitting there in your fancy dress and feeling ungrateful at the ball that was thrown in your name—but you couldn’t help it.

People had come from all over the Riverlands for you, uprooted their lives and paid good coin on gifts for you, but none of that was what you truly wanted.

Your father had gone through great lengths to throw you this ball, spending coin that he didn’t have just to celebrate and maybe find you a suitable match.

By all means, it was supposed to be an amazing night in your life and yet you were so caught up in your feelings that you couldn’t even find it in yourself to be thankful.

All over, you constantly spotted sigils from houses such as the Freys, the Mootons, and the Mallisters. Even the Tully’s had made an effort to appear but none of those sigils were the ones that you wanted to see.

None of those sigils belonged to him.

Admittedly, you knew that you were a fool to ever think that he’d show up here. Your father would have sooner died than invite a Blackwood into his home, let alone have one around his daughter.

It was a feeble thought, and it was stupid of you to even be upset. Of course Benji would not show up your nameday celebration. You had known that ever since it was announced.

Your lover himself had told you that as much as he wanted to, there was just no way for him to celebrate your nameday with you. He sure as hell wasn’t invited and it would be too risky and too bloody to just show up unannounced.

The chaos that would ensue if a band of Blackwoods showed up would ruin your nameday for certain. And as much as you wanted to see him, you understood that his absence was for the best.

Still though, the feeling of disappointment had its grip on you.

You tried to act normal and you tried to make it seem like you weren’t utterly gutted, but you knew that your emotions had spilled out anyways. You were quiet and withdrawn, choosing to stay at the high table in the seat of honor rather than get up and dance with every one else.

You had chosen to sip on your wine rather than prance around with a man you didn’t care about.

You knew it was petty, but if your father wanted to be petty as well and not invite the Blackwoods, then you vowed not dance with anyone other than Benji.

It was problematic, seeing you were the guest of honor and you had declined many lords already, but you held fast. Each and every man that came to your table was turned away, to the displeasure of your father.

His ulterior motives of trying to find you a husband were not as discreet as he thought them to be. Every time the word ‘no,’ left your lips to a potential match, his lips pressed into a thinner and thinner line.

His patience with you was slowly running out.

Even though others might not have picked up on your sullen mood, he did. You were your father’s daughter after all. It was easy enough for him to tell that something was wrong, and whatever it was, he wasn’t happy about it.

After making sure that the coast was clear and that was no one was listening, he leaned in and addressed you with distain in his voice.

“Is something the matter with the celebration, Y/N?” He asked tightly.

His eyes, similar to yours, bore into you from behind his mask. Curiosity along with annoyance could be seen pooling inside them.

The answer that you had been mentally rehearsing all night finally had its chance to slip out.

“No father. Nothing is wrong with the celebration. Everything you have done for me is beautiful and much appreciated.”

Your father clenched his jaw as you took a sip of your wine, trying your best to avoid his heated stare.

“Is that so?” A small scoff left his lips. “Then why is it that you refuse to act the least bit of happy?”

You swallowed as your mind flickered to Benji. You were grateful that your mother had insisted on a masquerade ball, and that your mask was big enough to cover your face. If it didn’t, you feared you’d give much more than you wanted to away.

“I’m not…unhappy, father,” A sigh left your lips as you looked to the dance floor. Your eyes lingered on all of the couples who got to dance freely. On all of the ladies that got to be with who they wanted to without it ending in a bloody civil war.

Involuntarily, envy pooled in your chest.

“I’m just..tired, that’s all,” You continued, hoping your lie was enough.

It wasn’t.

Another scoff could be heard from your father as his chair scraped. From beside you, on your left, your mother looked on worriedly as he hissed.

“Tired? How can you be tired, daughter, when you have not even bothered to grace the dance floor?”

Silence was heard on your part as you swallowed again. You kept your eyes in front of you for fear that you’d say something to make him angrier. It wasn’t your intentions to get into it with your family, not tonight, so you kept your eyes straight and your mouth shut.

You focused on the many people on the dance floor as your father simply shook his head, mumbling about how ungrateful his daughter was.

Your mother simply gave you a disappointed look, but you ignored them both as something caught your attention.

At first, you thought that you imagined it. A simple trick of the light perhaps, or maybe you just had too much wine, but you could have sworn that you saw a flash of black, accompanied by broad shoulders and wide, gleaming eyes.

Your gaze became locked onto the stranger that bared these traits, so familiar to you but so far away. With your heart hammering in your chest, you watched as he made his way onto the dance floor. You couldn’t see him yet, not properly anyways. He was still hidden behind the horde of people all crowded together. Hiding behind the multitude of dancers and weaving in and out of the crowd.

It took all you had to keep your gaze on him and not look away. You couldn’t lose him. Not until he got closer. Not until you were sure.

For now, you were stuck following his movements with care, watching as he came closer, and closer, until finally…

Your heart stopped.

You weren’t sure if it was the wine or if you truly were hallucinating as your eyes locked with his, Benji coming to stand right in front of the high table. Beside him were two other men, all bare of any sigils and hidden under masks. But they were there. They were…

No, no.

It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t dare.

…Would he?

You started to doubt yourself. Telling yourself that there was no way that it could be him. It was too much of a risk. It was too dangerous for him to even consider such a thing…

But then he began to smile. That damned smile that you would recognize anywhere, under a mask or not. That and his eyes. You knew those eyes. That wide-eyed, crazed stare that often sent your heartbeat racing through your chest.

You knew them like the back of your hand. And sure enough, as you stared into the crowd, looking directly into those eyes, he winked.

Your chair scraped immediately.

Without much warning you stood, shooting a quick mumble towards your father before racing down the steps and towards him with determination.

Your father, thankfully, was none the wiser as you rushed forward, nodding in approval as you reached Benji and looped your arm with his.

He thought you had simply come to your senses and was dancing with some lord.

He had no idea who you were moving towards the dance floor with and if he did, you were sure that the smile would be wiped right off his face.

Lord Bracken would start a war if he knew a Blackwood had snuck under his roof, but alas that was the last thing that you were worried about.

You were more concerned about your lover getting caught, the fool having the nerve to laugh as you dragged him through the crowd. The two men he had brought along with him tried to follow, but they quickly ended up getting lost.

It was almost impossible to navigate through all of the twirling bodies, but you made it your mission to weave through them, Benji’s laughter getting lost under all of the noise. You were grateful that the masks at least concealed your true identities, allowing you to pull him along until no one else was around.

You managed to make it all the way to your room without getting stopped. As you did, you opened the door and all but threw Benji inside, making sure the door was locked before turning to your lover with a glare.

A wild gleam appeared in his eyes as he stared at you. It was obvious that he was more pleased than afraid as he grinned, crackling as he embraced you in his arms.

“Benji, Benji! Put me down!”

His laughter mixed in with your shouts of protests as Benji suddenly picked you up, spinning around in his arms.

The world suddenly went blurry for a moment as your lover twirled you, your eyes going in and out of focus. You felt dizzy whenever he finally let go of you, swaying a little bit until Benji steadied you.

When he did, you swore with everything inside of you were going to kill him.

“You idiot! What the hell were you thinking?”

Benji smiled sheepishly as you turned your fiery gaze on him, a mix of concern and anger lacing your voice. Worriedly, you glanced to the door, afraid that someone would burst through and discover him even though you had locked it.

With little time to protest, you were swept into his arms again and pulled against him.

“I was thinking that couldn’t help myself, my love. It is your nameday, and I had to see you,” He said softly, pressing his forehead to yours.

Instantly, some of your anger began to dissolve. You blamed not seeing him for weeks as the reason you began to fold so quickly, but some of your worry and panic still bled over.

“You had to? Benji you could have been caught! Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to be here right now? If my father or the guards had discovered you—”

Benji cut you off with a loud laugh.

“Your guards are the sorriest cunts I have ever seen in my life,” He snorted. “I could have snuck an entire army into Stone Hedge and no one would have batted an eye.”

“Hey!”

You playfully swatted his shoulder, giggling softly because you knew he was right. If your guards had done their jobs then Benji wouldn’t be here right now. Alone in a room with their Lord’s daughter, staring at her with a hungry look in his eyes.

A million different things ran through your mind. Everything from terror at getting caught to just being plain excited that he was here flooded your veins. You kept looking over your shoulder, expecting your door to burst open any second while Benji continued to hold you.

It took a few seconds, but when you were sure that no one was coming to seize your lover and take him away, a smile broke out on your face and you quickly embraced him back.

You threw your arms around Benji and held him tight, burying your head into the crook of his neck as you laughed lightly.

“Leave it to you, Benjicot Blackwood, to risk death and torture just to wish me a happy nameday,” You whispered, feeling his chest rumble underneath you.

Benji shrugged. “And to give you this,” He said cheekily, pulling away. When he did, you saw him reach into his pocket for a second before slowly pulling something out.

You bit your lip as Benji handed you a box, a velvet box with the Blackwood sigil embroidered on top.

With a curious look, you opened it up and then gasped at what you saw inside.

“This is…this is for me?” You asked incredulously.

Benji nodded, grinning.

“Of course it is, love. You’re the only Bracken I can give that to without loosing my head,” He teased slightly before continuing.

“D’you like it though? I had to go four towns over, all the way to The Crag so people wouldn’t ask questions. Figured it would have been strange if a Blackwood was caught asking someone to make a neckless with a Bracken sigil.”

The shyness that he sometimes was known for was evident on his face as he waited for your response, Benji nervously playing with his hands.

Luckily though, he didn’t have to wait long. He sighed in relief as he saw you grin, pulling him into another bone crushing hug and kissing his cheek.

“Benji…of course I love it,” You whispered in his ear, making him shiver. You could feel him relax underneath you, hugging you back as your eyes threatened to fill with tears.

“You mean it?” He asked, a bit more vulnerability shining through.

Your heart filled with more love that you thought was capable.

“Of course I mean it. How could I not?” You asked him softly. “It’s beautiful, and I can’t imagine it was easy for you to even have this made.”

You made a jest in order to keep yourself from crying.

Benji laughed lightly. “Aye. It nearly killed me to spend coin on that ugly red stag, but I think the back of it makes up for it. Look.”

He gestured for you to flip the necklace over and when you did, you discovered that it was double-sided. On the front, the sigil of house Bracken was carved, unassuming to anyone who saw it. But on the back…

You ran your fingers over the weirwood tree surrounded by ravens and lightly gasped. It was the sigil of House Blackwood, the symbol that belonged to the man you loved.

In tiny letters, barely visible unless you squinted, the initials B.B were engraved in one of the ravens.

Benjicot Blackwood.

“Oh. It’s beautiful Benji. Thank you,” You said again, your voice thick with emotion as you saw it. This time, you weren’t able to keep the tears from your eyes, one of them falling down your cheek as you sniffled.

Gently, Benji reached to your face and wiped it away. He smiled lightly and gestured for you to turn around. Taking the necklace from your hands, he then unclasped it and gently placed it around your neck.

When he did, he flipped it so that the symbol of House Blackwood showed instead.

“There. Just as it belongs,” He said.

Sniffling lightly, you allowed him to run his fingers over it, Benji placing soft kisses on your neck before turning you around.

When you did, you immediately planted your lips upon his, unable to resist it any longer.

You could tell that Benji was taken by surprise by the sudden action, but he quickly wasted no time in kissing you back. He matched the amount of passion in your kiss, greedily drinking in the taste of you after being starved for so long.

Not long after, what started as a soft, slow kiss turned into something more. The desperation that you both felt after not seeing each other for a while pooled over, and soon enough you found yourself tugging on his hair, wanting something more.

Benji clearly felt the same as he began to lead you towards the bed.

Gently, he laid you down on the soft covers and your heart pounded as he leaned over you.

Once more, his lips met yours in a swift kiss but this time it was accompanied by roaming hands.

You felt him touching you everywhere that he could, Benji feeling all of the parts that he missed.

His hands lingered on your waist and then your chest, fingers dancing over the material that covered your breasts. It was clear that just feeling you over your clothing wasn’t enough. He wanted more, and so you weren’t surprised when he broke the kiss, eyes hungry as he tugged on the yellow garb.

“Take this off,” He demanded softly, his dark eyes wild with lust.

Quickly, you sat up and with his assistance was able to get it off. Benji struggled a little bit when it came to your corset, resulting in your lover getting impatient.

Regrettably, this meant that you would have to explain to your Septa why the strings looked like they had been cut with a knife. A little annoyance pooled inside of you at the inconvenience, but you tried not to think about that as you stared at him, anxious to know what he wanted next.

“Turn around,” Benji then rasped, taking no time to drink in your naked body. “I want you on your knees, ass in the air.”

Despite his filthy words, his tone was oddly soft. Desire pooled in your core as you obediently listened, eager for whatever it was he had planned for you. You laid your head on your soft pillow, eyes fluttering shut as you felt the bed dip behind you.

You sighed as Benji kneeled in between your legs. In an instant, your felt his calloused hands roaming over your body, trailing all the way from the small of your back to the center of your core. Gently, his padded fingers traced your slick folds, eliciting a moan from you when they brushed over your clit.

“Fuck, how I’ve missed this.”

You said nothing as his fingers continued to tease your clit, too busy panting at the sensation.

It had been too long, you noted, since you had felt your lovers’ touch.

The more that tensions between your houses grew, the less time that you had to spend with Benji. It was too risky to be seen anywhere near Blackwood territory and your father had doubled the guards, making it nearly impossible to sneak out. Your meetings had been so few as of late, leaving you craving his touch like no other.

Eagerly, you wanted to take advantage of this opportunity, moaning when Benji sank a digit into your tight cunt. You cursed softly as he began to pump in and out, loving the way he curled them inside of you to reach your pleasure spots.

It seemed that your time apart did nothing to impact Benji’s memory. He still remembered exactly how to make you come undone, adding more and more digits until your cunt was stuffed.

The more fingers that he added, the louder you moaned. Pleasure that you had not experienced in weeks quickly began to cloud your senses, making you forget that you were supposed to be quiet in case anyone overheard you.

You could only imagine the disaster that would ensue if Benjicot Blackwood was discovered knuckle-deep inside of Lord Bracken’s daughter. Making her come undone on his fingers, slowly but surely, and whispering the filthiest of words in her ear.

You imagined that the aftermath wouldn’t be pretty, but alas all of those thoughts and worries faded away the minute you felt Benji kneel down, attaching his mouth to your cunt.

Any previous thoughts that you had were gone—replaced by muffled moans and incoherent blabber.

You whimpered as you felt Benji’s tongue lapping at your folds, eating your cunt like he was a man starved.

You felt him sucking on your clit, taking the bud into his mouth just as his index and middle finger curled against the right spot.

The combined pleasure had you gasping out, pillow forgotten as strangled cries left your lips.

Benji could feel your cunt tightening around his fingers and he smirked, coaxing you through your orgasm as you moaned and withered under him.

It took all he had to hold you down, using his free hand to keep your cunt firmly pressed against him. He refused to let up his assault until he could taste you on his tongue, the sweetness of your juices making him groan as well.

When he finally pulled away and released you from his hold, you managed to weakly look behind you and see him grinning. Benji licked his fingers, his face shiny with your arousal as he met your eyes.

“Hmm. So fuckin’ sweet. You want to taste, raven?”

Meekly you nodded, your face and your core burning at the nickname. Benji smiled as he leaned down to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his lips while he grinded into you.

You could feel his cock hard as stone poking against your thighs. The thought of him being inside of you after so long briefly made you loose the ability to breathe as excitement flooded your veins.

The action allowed for Benji to slip his tongue in your mouth, kissing you sloppily for a moment before reluctantly pulling away.

His wild eyes were dark with lust as he fiddled with his own clothing, loosening his trousers so that his cock could spring free.

You felt your mouth water as you watched him stroke himself for a moment, spurts of preseed dripping down the base.

Benji let a hand roam over your back and gently used it to push you down, spreading your legs so that he could settle in between them.

With your back arched and your face pressed firmly against the pillow once again, he teased you by dragging his cock along your folds and then, he pushed in.

Together, you both let out a whine as Benji’s cock sank inside of you, your lover letting out a swear as you gripped him tight.

It had been a while since the two of you had sex, and it was evident in the way your legs trembled, your cunt straining to take him as he sank deeper.

You let out another whine, reaching behind you for something to grip. Luckily Benji seemed to get the message clear enough, and quickly he intertwined your fingers together.

Once he was buried inside of you to the hilt, he stilled for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Light kisses were peppered against your back as he leaned over you, holding you as close as possible before his hips began to move.

In a slow rhythm, he dragged his cock in and out as if to savor the moment.

As his hips snapped against yours and sent jolts of ecstasy through your body, your moans slowly started to combine.

You had forgotten how much you missed this. You had forgotten how much you missed him. Loneliness was awful but often times it was easy to get accustomed to it. After all, it’s what you signed up for when you took a Blackwood for your lover.

You expected to go days, weeks, or even months without seeing Benji. So when he was here, you did all you could to savor him before he had to leave again.

Every breath, every groan, and every whisper of encouragement was committed to memory. Every touch, every kiss cherished.

You relished in the way Benji’s cock felt against your walls, squeezing him as if it would somehow help you remember how it felt.

A small curse left his lips as you did, Benji leaning down to suck a love bite on your skin.

As his teeth grazed your neck, you groaned as he somehow managed to find both of your sweet spots.

“That’s it. That’s it. Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl.”

Benji praised you as you began to fuck yourself on his cock, throwing your hips back and meeting his trusts. Your moans combined together as the pace sped up, the sound of heavy breathing quickly filling the room.

After a moment, you felt his weight shift off of your body as Benji opted to get back on his knees. He used his hands to keep your hips steady, pushing down on the small of your back to keep it arched.

With this new angle, he was able to drive into you quicker and repeatedly hit your sweet spot. Curses left his lips as you began to tremble around him, his own orgasm approaching at the same time as yours.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You gripped the sheets tightly as obscenities left his mouth, feeling Benji quickly pull out of you just as your peak washed over you.

Hot spurts of his seed coated your back, Benji spilling himself onto your skin before finishing you off with his fingers.

The absence of his cock was most disappointing, but by the time you came down from your high you barely noticed.

You were too busy in a state of bliss, turning around to capture Benji in a kiss before shakily pulling away.

“Are you alright, my love?” He asked immediately, panting heavily as he collapsed next to you.

Sometimes, it amazed you how quickly he could change. One moment Benji was shy and sweet, giving you the most beautiful necklace for your nameday. And then the next he was making you cum, whispering the dirtiest things in your ear and fucking you so good that you saw stars.

Now, he had switched again, his soft side back on display as he held you in his arms.

He was careful enough not to cum inside of you and—much to your displeasure—had used your fancy yellow dress to wipe up his seed.

You suspected that he was too pleased by the action, but you opted not to say anything about it. Instead, you merely disregarded the dress and chose to cuddle in his arms, trying to soak the last remaining moments you had.

“Of course I’m alright. It is my nameday and I’ve just received the best gift of the night,” You replied after some pause.

You knew him well enough that you could practically hear the smirk appear on his face.

“What? The sex?” Benji asked cheekily, to which you playfully elbowed him.

“No you fool!” You giggled as you knew that was exactly what he was going to say. “The necklace! The necklace you risked life and limb to deliver to me personally!”

You rolled your eyes as Benji began to laugh behind you, the cheerful sound echoing through your chambers.

“Right, right. That is what I risked life and limb for,” He said innocently.

You didn’t have the energy to do anything expect roll your eyes again. You swore he was so stupid sometimes. From sneaking into enemy territory to making silly little jests, your Benji sure was a character to be reckoned with.

But, that was exactly what you loved about him.

Sighing softly, you shook your head and listened to the sound of his breathing. It remained steady behind you as Benji slowly relaxed, settling in your bed like he was simply at home.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he was falling sleep. His body was certainly still enough to think so, but you knew as well as he did that he couldn’t stay here.

The party downstairs was slowly dying down. If you listened close enough, you could hear the final songs planned for the night dwindling down, and you knew pretty soon someone was going to come for you.

Benji couldn’t be here when they did.

Your father was probably already angry enough at your lack of presence. If he ever discovered the reason why you had so suddenly disappeared then he would have your head—Benji’s too.

And as much you loved lying in his arms, feeling the warmth and the love radiating from his body, you loved seeing Benji alive much more.

So, sure enough, as the final notes on the final songs began to play, he stood up.

“Well, I suppose that’s my cue to take leave, then.”

Benji smiled sadly as he began to gather his clothes, redressing while you watched him with despair. The sheets that were wrapped loosely around you began to fall as you stood as well, walking over to him just as he readjusted his dagger.

“Do you promise to come visit me soon?” You asked him anxiously.

Slowly, Benji began to nod. He knew as well as you did that soon was debatable. Tensions were at all time high as whispers of war breaking out in the Kingdom spread. They added to the already strained relations between your houses.

Still though, Benji could not bare to see your disappointment. He didn’t want to leave on a bad note, either, so he settled for an unserious answer to ease the situation.

“If your father doesn’t replace his guards any time soon then I’ll be able to visit you any time you’d like,” He chuckled.

He was met by a small giggle that had his heart smiling with joy. Softly, you gripped his hand, savoring his touch as you knew that it would be the last time for a while.

“Stay safe out there, Blackwood,” You told him softly. “Don’t get into any trouble and for Seven’s sake, leave the assize stones alone. Make sure that you come back to me, you hear?”

Your tone was playful, but he knew that you were being as serious as a dead man.

Briefly, his lips twitched a little as he fought the urge to tell you that it was your family that messes with the stones. But ultimately, he agreed.

“I will. I promise,” Benji said sincerely.

A soft kiss was then planted on your lips, you and Benji holding onto each other for one last time. When you pulled away, a sigh of disappointment left your lips as you watched him walk away.

Closing your eyes, you decided to count his footsteps until he reached the door.

When you got to ten, you heard the door open. And one last time, Benji called out to you.

“Oh. And Bracken?”

“Hmm?”

You opened your eyes to see that familiar goofy smile, his eyes shining as he looked at you.

“I almost forgot to tell you, but happy nameday, my love. I do hope that this was a good one,” Benji laughed.

And with that, he closed the door, leaving you smiling and shaking your head behind him.

That fool. What one earth am I going to do with you, Benjicot Blackwood?

[sunsetchicane]

first kisses [CL16]

charles leclerc x childhood best friend!fem!reader

word count: 7.8k

summary: The one where you have to go back to your hometown for business and your past finally catches up with you.

warnings: kisses, angst, grief, homesickness (in the Noah Kahan way), friends to lovers; burning, pining, perishing! fluff at the end :)

author's note: Friends to lovers was on my mind, and this is what came out. Feedback is appreciated, so please share your thoughts/comments/questions!! Sending love! [xoxo elle]

^edit: Thank you all sooooo much for the love this has received! No one does it better than the f1 babes. Thanks again!!

*Flashback*

She sat at the end of an abandoned dock. The towering ships were the only thing around her, a pleasant, quiet company. Monaco was set ablaze with a burning orange glow from the setting sun over the hills that hemmed the city in. The water sparkled in front of her, shimmering and dancing freely. She found herself envying the ocean. When the ocean was calm, people loved it for its serenity. When the sea was charged and crashing, people adored its fierce energy. But when she was calm, she was chastised for being withdrawn. When she exposed her power, she was commanded to be quieter, gentler. So she envied the ocean for its freedom and beauty.

Footsteps padded against the sturdy dock somewhere behind her, steadily growing closer. She knew who it was before she even looked over her shoulder. Wiping away salty tears, she sniffed her nose hard. She didn’t want him to see her like this.

Charles studied her from behind, not entirely understanding why she was reduced to tears at her father’s venomous comment. He’d seen her handle far worse from him time and time again over the years. He couldn’t find a way to understand why this one got to her. It had her running from her house, away from everyone, and brought her all the way out to the docks in the bay. Something carried her out here, and he wanted to know what.

Her eyes were trained unerringly on the horizon. She was dreaming about reaching out to it and dragging her finger along it. She didn’t acknowledge her looming best friend. She didn’t know what to say to him, so she opted for saying nothing. 

Charles plopped down next to her, his feet dangling over the end of the dock. She rolled her eyes. He obviously didn’t pick up on the fact that she wanted to be alone. Typical. 

She huffed and turned her face away from him into her shoulder. Charles rolled his eyes this time. Girls.

For some time, the two of them just sat there, toes tracing lazy circles in the water below. The ocean spray hit their warm skin, infecting their senses. Slowly, it set her at ease. Charles waited for the ocean to do what it did best: to heal.

Once the sun had gone down and dusk settled in, calamity disappeared. She was feeling hollow now, and cold. Nights down by the water often became chilly. Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, she shivered. Charles noticed immediately.

“Can we go back now?” He asked, thinking that she might open up on the walk home. He was also eager to get back to his warm house. 

“No,” She said simply. It was the first thing she’d done to actually acknowledge his presence, save an eye roll. Charles groaned.

“You go then, you big baby.” She mumbled in response, tightening her arms around her middle. Charles’ head snapped to her with an incredulous look plastered onto his features. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and chuck her into her beloved bay. Maybe that would set her straight. 

While he was seriously contemplating his plan to shove her in, she leaned into him, her head resting gently against his shoulder. Charles’ eyebrows popped up in surprise as he eyed her in his peripherals. Her mumbled ‘sorry’ was barely audible, but acceptable for now. He knew that she didn’t mean to be moody; it was just a byproduct of a bad situation. 

“Your dad’s an ass,” Charles said stiffly, still a little unsure about having her head on his shoulder. The two of them had never touched like this before. It made him nervous. It made her secure. 

“Yeah,” she agreed, a weak laugh shaking her frame. Charles ventured a shaky hand towards her shoulder. When she let him cup her shoulder with his hand, he pressed her closer to him with a firm tug. She suddenly felt warm, the chill of the night cut through with just a one arm hug from her best friend. Best friend. Suddenly, it seemed an improper title.

“Wanna talk about it?” Charles whispered, his quiet voice floating over the dark sea like a ghost.

“No,” was all she could manage. A new flush of emotions welled in her chest. Her eyes rose to look at Charles through her lashes. He was the one looking out at the water now. This was her Charles.

“What do you want to talk about then?” he said, desperate to get her talking because this silence was getting heavy. He didn’t like the feelings that were stirring in his stomach. He was becoming painfully aware of how he was sitting, the way he smelled, the way his fingers rested against his best friend’s shoulder. Best friend.

She pulled away from him then so she could look him in the eye. His brown hair was swept off to the side, looking messy and charming. Charming? Had he always looked like this? Or was it just tonight’s high emotions that set her hormones into overdrive? Charles’ eyes fell on her, too. Her lips were puffy and pink, her eyes shimmering in the moonlight. He swallowed hard.

“Charlie?” She whispered his name like a secret, folded up into a night they would never talk about again.

“Yeah?” He said, his voice low and reverent. He was waiting for whatever she was going to say. He found himself hanging off every word that fell from those pink lips. He would never stop. 

“I have a proposition for you,” she said carefully. She didn’t want him to read between the lines and end up ruining the beautiful friendship they shared. “Don’t get…weird.”

“Alright,” he said skeptically. She already knew that he was weird enough as it is.

“I think we should be each other’s first kiss. Just get it out of the way so we don’t have to worry about it,” she said quickly, firmly. She forced herself to believe that there was no ulterior motive behind her proposition. This was purely clinical, a normal thing. She didn’t want anything from Charles other than one simple kiss.  Charles reared back a little, slightly dumbfounded. He was unsure. What did this mean for them? Did this mean she liked him? He wouldn’t mind that. The thought was a new one and it made him nervous.

“Come on, Charlie. I don’t want my first kiss to happen with some random guy. Please?” Her voice was light on his ears, unreal almost. He shared her sentiment; he didn’t really want to kiss a girl that didn’t know him the way she did. But the thought of another boy kissing her finalized his decision. He hated that mental picture.

All he did was nod. 

With shaking fingers, she laid her hand over his on the dock between them. Biting down on her lip harshly, she stared at him. Charles gulped while returning her gaze. Time stilled around the two teenagers as they each leaned into their best friend. The kiss was simple, just lips against lips, but something about it sent up fireworks into the dead night. She was soft; he was nervous. Colors and light rippled across closed eyes. Chills ran rampant over skin.

When they broke apart, they were both breathless. Their eyes locked for only a split second before they snapped their attention back to the inky horizon. After a few seconds of complete, nervous silence, a giggle tore from her. Charles found himself laughing with her. 

Their hands stayed intertwined between them on the last board of the dock.

*Present Day*

As you stroll down the streets that you once ran through as a little girl, you can’t help the nostalgia that warms your heart and brings a flush to your cheeks. It’s been too long since you’ve returned to your hometown. Something has always held you back. First it was school, then traveling, and now work. Since you moved away to college, you’ve gotten very good at avoiding this place and the histories that it holds. Even simply walking along the sidewalks, glancing at the shops and people, you find yourself becoming lost in the overwhelming weight of familiarity. There’s a complicated relationship between you and this small nation you once called home. As dearly as you love it, you nearly choke on all of the memories and emotions that rise helplessly to the surface. Joy is always accompanied with sorrow, gain with loss. Quietly, you contemplate exactly how you’re going to walk in the precarious balance of it all.

The soothing summer air and the simple caress of a cool ocean breeze does wonders to help ease your burden. Monaco’s bay has always been a place of rest for you. So, as you approach your destination, you try to mimic the sea’s power and adopt its peace. Rounding the stone gate, your feet automatically walk you down a path that you’ve followed countless times. Trees and grass and stones are scattered on both sides of the paved walk. Slowly, your eyes track over the names, names you’ve read so many times that you can nearly count them off by memory. These names you know so well, but never the people they belonged to. No, it was too late for that.

Your footsteps automatically slow as you reach the far corner of the grave yard. Sunshine spills through a nearby tree, casting sunspots over her stone. Your mother’s name is carved gracefully into the marker. Shaky legs guide you next to her, kneeling before her. With reverent fingers, you trace the letters of her name.

“Bonjour maman,” You whisper. Tears well in your eyes as you rest your hands in your lap, cradling the lilies you brought to leave for her. A far too familiar feeling flutters in your chest, rising into your throat. It’s the sort of darkness that makes you cold even when you can feel the sun on your skin. Loss does funny things to you– things that never go away. It’s something that you live with forever, but it grows smaller and smaller until you don’t notice it as often. Or until you come home and are reminded of everything that once was and never will be again. 

Wiping at your eyes, you find yourself looking at another grave just across the path. The name fills you with the same feeling as your own mother’s. Hervé Leclerc.

You remember attending his funeral. Charles clung to your hand for the entire service. He was a mess. As he was lowered into the ground, Charles turned his head into your shoulder and sobbed. Everyone left, even his mother and brothers. They had to return to the house, but Charles couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye. It was just the two of you standing there on the path between his father and your mother. You clutched onto each other and made a promise to never let go. And you never did.

Parts of you still clung onto Charles as if you were still those kids who played footie in the streets or ran around karting events like you owned the place. Even more, you lingered in the kiss you shared as teenagers. There was a bond that was formed that night that you’ve never fully understood. Your soul reached out to his and fused to it. You suppose that’s why you miss him so dearly, even after all of these years. Your friends say that you should hate him, despise him for not being the friend he said he would be. But you couldn’t. Mistakes and misjudgments and idiotic errors meant nothing compared to what you’ve both endured and shared with each other. Maybe you weren’t the best friends you used to be, or even friends at all, but those parts of you were still reserved for him. There was nothing you could do about that, even if you tried.

Sniffing and drying your eyes, you decided that you’ve wept enough. There are things to do and people to see. Pressing a kiss to your fingers and then pressing your hand to your mother’s headstone, you say a quick goodbye. You pull a single lily from the bouquet before gently leaving the rest at the grave. With sure steps, you cross the path towards the other grave.

“Monsieur Leclerc,” You say with a small smile as you reach down and leave the lily at the foot of his stone. Your fingers rest and drag across the rough stone as you stand to leave. 

Walking out of the graveyard, you feel your grief sling itself across your shoulders. But, instead of weighing you down, it holds you tight. You can’t help but imagine the hands of your mother and the hands of your best friend’s father reaching out to you, spurring you on. There’s always joy where there is sorrow. 

The walk back to your car is quick. The summer morning in Monaco is already bursting with life. People are racing around, elegant outfits thrown over elegant frames. Cars that are worth more than houses lazily strut about the curving streets. Towering buildings bustle with life at the beginning of a work day. The city is alive.

There’s a slow smile that creeps onto your face as you pull your sunglasses down to watch the scene unfold before you. So many lives happening all at once. You wonder what they’re all doing today, what stresses they hold or what excitements they harbor. Late summer in Monaco is a dreamscape. Sometimes, in moments like these, you wonder how you left for so  long.

While staring out at the business that’s swallowed you up, you’ve forgotten to watch where you’re going. A shoulder knocks into yours harshly, sending you reeling backward. Your heel catches on a loose stone, sweeping your feet out from under you. But, before you find yourself crashing to the ground, someone’s hands wrap tightly around your waist, catching you. Your hands latch onto their arms, trying to steady yourself. The person who both nearly threw you against the pavement and saved you from doing so, returns you to an upright position.

“Sorry, I wasn’t-” he starts while pulling his sunglasses from his face.

“I’m so sorry, I-” you begin at the same time.

The two of you freeze mid-sentence. Slowly, you reach up and pull your sunglasses off your nose to really take him in. He’s grown so much since you saw him last. He was just a little boy then, still navigating the tail end of puberty. His hair used to be longer, his face pudgier. Long gone is that little boy you once knew. He’s a man now.

“Arthur?” His name slips from your lips as you stare at him. His eyes sparkle in the sun while a smile tears across his face. At least there are some things that don’t change.

Your name bubbles from his throat as he reaches out and pulls you into a crushing hug. Lifting you from the ground, he spins the two of you in a circle. Being in Monaco was already hard to adjust to, but seeing Arthur Leclerc is a whole new level of surreal. 

When he finally sets you down, your hands don’t drop from his shoulders. It feels so good to see him. Your heart beams, painting your face with a smile so large it burns your cheeks.

“Look at you! You’re so…” you say, your hand reaching up to touch his face.

“Handsome?” he interjects with a wink.

“I was going to say old,” you answer, shaking your head at him. Same old Arthur. For another second, you just stare at each other. It’s been five years since you’ve seen each other last. Five years since you last saw any of them. 

“Come on,” Arthur says suddenly, taking your hand in his. He’s pulling you after him firmly while he weaves through the foot traffic that’s overtaken the walkways. Your objections fall on deaf ears as he hauls you after him. 

“I’m out to the shops with maman, she’ll want to see you,” Arthur says excitedly while leading you a few more doors down. He stops you in front of a small flower shop that you know well. It was always Pascale and your mother’s favorite. It doesn’t surprise you in the slightest that Pascale still shops here.

Wasting no time, Arthur pulls you through the door and across the shop floor to where Pascale is. Her head is bent over an array of bouquets, a basket tucked around her arm. She’s dressed in light pastels, her hair done expertly. The sight of her makes your chest ache with memory. Watching her this way, without her knowing you’re there, feels like a scene in a movie made from your past. How many times have you watched her shop or cook or care for everyone? This moment plays on a loop in your mind but with different settings, scenery, clothes, jobs, people.

“Maman,” Arthur says, his hand leaving yours. He approaches his mother, resting a hand on her shoulder. She wraps her arm around his middle, flashing him a smile you can’t see. Arthur leans down to whisper in her ear before glancing back at you. Pascale’s gaze follows his, confusion evident on her face. 

It lasts only a fraction of a moment until her graceful eyes meet yours. Time stills and everything becomes just as it’s supposed to be. You can hear the soft in and out of your own breathing, the thrum of your heart in your chest. Her basket tumbles to the ground, discarded so she can throw her arms around you. It’s the second hug you’ve received today that you never expected. There’s something endlessly warm and comforting about Pascale’s arms being wrapped around you. The familiarity of it makes you want to sob into her shoulder. 

“Oh, my girl, my sweet girl,” she hums into your hair, her hands rubbing up and down your back. The hug lasts however long she decides, her grip unerring and relentless. When she finally pulls away, she gives you two kisses on each cheek. 

“Let me look at you,” she says warmly, clutching your hands in hers while staring you down. Pascale’s eyes travel from your head to your toes and then back up. Twice. 

“You’ve always been beautiful, like your mother,” she says with a tsk. But you can hear the slight quiver in her voice. Your mom was her best friend. It isn’t easy to lose a best friend. 

“Thank you,” you whisper back, afraid that if you speak any louder, your voice would break. Staring at your mother’s best friend and the mother of your childhood best friend, there’s a special type of love you feel blossoming in your chest. No one could replace your mother, but Pascale did a damn fine job filling in where she could.

Pascale invites you to join her and Arthur shopping for the rest of the morning. As you travel from shop to shop, feeling 12 years old again, you chat amongst yourselves. The Leclerc's grill you with questions to which you answer as best you can. In return, they answer all of your questions.

However, there’s one subject neither of you dare to bring up: Charles.

“Have you seen your father recently?” Pascale asks while inspecting a tomato, disdain clear in her voice. 

“No, I haven’t heard from him since he moved,” you answer honestly, while tying off a bag of lemons to place in her basket. Your father was never that involved, always gone on business. When he was around, he was brutal and full of hate. When your mother died, he became so distant, you barely considered him your father anymore. The end of your relationship occurred when you finally left for college. You haven’t heard from him since, spare one time bothered to call to let you know he was moving to London. 

Pascale lets out a string of curses under her breath. It brings a small smile to your face. Pascale will always have your back. There’s never been a time where the Leclercs haven’t been there for you. They’ve supported you through thick and thin, and always made you promise to look to them for help whenever you needed it. You feel so grateful to be loved so fully by a family, especially when you didn’t really have one of your own. 

“You’ll come for lunch,” Pascale says as she finishes up her shopping. Your eyes dart over to Arthur’s. An amused look passes over his face, a classic, crooked smile lighting up his features. Sighing and shaking your head, you both know there’s no way you’re getting out of this.

“No sense in fighting it.” Arthur says while slinging an arm around your shoulders. You just nod in agreement while following Pascale to checkout. After hauling all of the shopping to the car, Arthur drives the three of you home.

The Leclerc house is just as you remember it. As you walk into the foyer and take off your shoes, peace falls over you. It’s as if you’ve stepped into a time capsule. The walls haven’t been painted since you were ten and were forced to help. The bright decorations and life that they preserve call to your childhood. As Pascale and Arthur disappear deeper into the house, you find yourself lingering behind. Eyes taking in every sight, fingers reveling in every touch, nose breathing deep the smells of the past, and between it all strings of history hang. Everything is a reminder of what once was. 

A chill cascades down your back as you round into the dining room and watch from a distance as the youngest Leclerc and his mother dance about the kitchen to put away the groceries. Their soft chatter draws a lump into your throat. How long has it been since you were in a place filled with words like theirs spoken from the mouths of people you love like them? As much as your heart aches, it also swells with profound comfort. 

Pascale whips some delicious sandwiches up for the three of you to snack on while you continue to jabber on about the last five years. Apparently, your frequent calls and letters were not enough to tide this woman over. She wants every last detail about where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing there.

By the time you’re long done eating, you’ve laughed so hard you’ve nearly cried, and fought tears back so desperately, a headache is coming on.

“I’ve got to go,” Arthur says after checking his watch. Your eyes fall to your phone to check the time. It’s well past four in the afternoon. Your eyes widen in surprise, not realizing how long you’ve been with the two of them. Your carefully planned out day has gone horribly askew. But, you couldn’t be happier. You weren’t sure if you were going to be able to see the Leclercs or not while you were here. Fate intervened and decided for you. 

Arthur says his goodbyes, kissing both you and his mother on the cheek before clearing the plates and disappearing into the kitchen. Pascale shifts in her seat to get more comfortable, signaling that she isn’t quite done with you yet. Smiling at her, you follow suit, trying to get comfy in your chair. Just as she opens her mouth to ask you another question, the sound of the front door opening steals away your attention.

“Arthur? Did you forget something?” Pascale calls out, a frown coming over her face. It was odd that he would come through the front door. When Arthur doesn’t answer, Pascale calls out to him again. Soft footsteps coming toward you through the hallway is the only answer the two of you receive. 

Silently, you watch as Pascale watches the doorway to the foyer. As the footsteps draw closer and then stop, Pascale’s face twists into a hundred different emotions. Her eyes flick over to yours once, then bounce back to the doorway. Confused, you start to turn around in your chair.

“Maman, I’m…” A familiar voice dances into your ears. Surprise turns you the rest of the way around, finding him standing there in the doorway. A rush of emotions bursts from your chest, making your fingers go numb and your head go fuzzy. The sunlight bounces around the room and splashes him in warm tones. His tousled brown hair, warmly tanned skin, and wide eyes look achingly similar to when you saw him last. Of course you’ve seen pictures of him over the years– it was unavoidable when he was the Charles Leclerc. But, nothing compares to seeing him standing right in front of you. Nothing compares to him seeing you too. 

“Charles!” Pascale says, bounding out of her chair to wrap her son up in a long overdue hug. Your presence has thrown this whole encounter off its axis. Shamefully, you remember that you, in fact, are not actually part of this family. Charles wasn’t expecting you and now you’ve ruined his surprise. 

You let your eyes fall from his, taking a keen interest in a specific crack found in the floorboards. Listening silently to the small chatter that passes between the mother and son, you feel suddenly out of place. It makes your heart ache that you don’t feel like you fit here with Charles now. Suddenly the house that was just full of life and memories feels cold and foreign.

Urged out of your seat by this sudden revelation, you stand quietly so as not to disturb the two people in front of you. Quickly, you go about collecting your things. All you can think about is how to get out of here as quickly as possible. There’s a part of you that wishes someone would stop you, hold you by the arm and keep you from running away. But that’s the wish of a fool, of a lovesick teenager. This is real life, and you know better than anyone that things rarely turn out the way you hoped they would. Hope is a dangerous game that you played for far too long. 

“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” You say quickly, placing a hand on Pascale’s shoulder. She turns toward you with wide eyes. There’s a tenderness and worry there that makes you nearly stop in your tracks. There’s a question poised on her lips, the one that would make you stay here like you so desperately want to. But you can’t, you won’t.

“But I really have to get going. It’s been lovely to see you again. I’ll make sure to pop in and say goodbye before I leave.” The words roll easily off your tongue, but you know that you won’t be stopping by again. The looming presence beside you makes sure of that. You’ve barely looked him in the eye, let alone spoken to him, and you can hardly handle it. Coming here to say goodbye to all of them again isn’t something you could handle. 

Wrapping Pascale up in a warm hug, you hold her for an extra second or two. You’re not sure when you’ll be able to do it again, so you savor every moment. Kissing her on either cheek, you whisper one last goodbye. 

Finally, you turn around and are face to face with your past. His eyes are trained on you, relentless and green. There’s a small frown that paints deep lines between his eyebrows. His pink lips are down turned on a freshly shaven face. From this distance, you can smell his cologne and see the uneven rise and fall of his chest. You haven’t seen him in years– felt his presence like this in years. How can it feel like centuries ago, but nearly like it was yesterday as well? So much has changed and yet everything has stayed the same.

“Charles,” you say curtly, your lips coming to rest in a strained line. He blinks once and opens his mouth like he’s going to say something. However, he never gets the chance. You’re slipping between the two of them, all but sprinting to the front door. Quickly, you yank on your shoes, tear open the front door, and jog down towards the road. A thousand and one thoughts take over your mind as you begin your walk towards your hotel. 

Seeing Charles was the last thing you thought you’d be doing on this trip. He was always traveling for his job. Formula One took him all over the globe. But, in some cruel turn of fate, he ended up here, your home, at the same time as you. All of the warmth that had been swirling around you all day, slowly accumulating and healing you, dissipated in the blink of an eye. Even in the heat of the day, you felt frostbitten. 

Wandering around, you didn’t feel up to returning to your hotel room yet. Isolating yourself in that cookie-cutter, dimly lit room seemed like torture. Instead, you decided to walk the town once more. Walking always helps you sort things out. Whenever you were mad or frustrated or sad, you always went on a walk. 

The bustle in the streets allowed you to slip away for a while, unnoticed by everyone around you. For now, you were simply a cog in the machine. There’s nothing more freeing than being no one for a little while. You can let all of your cares and concerns slide away as you’re swallowed up by life. 

As you walk, you find yourself passing by a young boy holding the hand of his mother. You wouldn’t have cast them another glance if your eye hadn’t been caught by the bright red hat the boy donned. The yellow Ferrari crest sat atop the hat and the perfect ‘16’ etched into the brim let you know that this boy was sporting his favorite racing driver’s merch. He stumbled along with his mother’s hand in one of his and a toy formula car in the other.

While they pass you by, you can’t help but paint the features of a young Charles over that little boy’s features. He looked a lot like him. Shaggy brown hair, big eyes, and happy smirk constant on his lips. 

It was a little silly how much you thought of your past. You used to spend hours going over every detail, every happy memory, and every sad one too. Sometimes, you even thought that you might live in your past to hide from your future. But it stopped a while ago. You somehow started to turn it off, to not think about him or this place.

But it’s impossible to do when you’re literally standing in the heart of your hometown. Reminders of your past are at every corner. It’s inescapable. Memories are attached to everything here. Your past is intertwined with this place, these people. 

If you can’t escape it, you might as well embrace it.

You decide to head for the one place you haven’t yet dared to go. By the time you get down to the bay, the crowds have lessened. People are returning to their houses to eat supper and prepare for another work day. That means that the docks will be quieter tonight. 

The sun is slipping towards the horizon as you meander about the maze of ships and yachts. Soft splashing sounds and the glittering of pearly white boats surrounds you. This was the world that you were born into, of castles on water and seas and skies that glitter like champagne. However, you couldn’t feel more detached. You belonged here once, amongst these starlets and superheroes, but not anymore. Charles’ return made that all too clear. This was his world, his domain. Treading here was dangerous, a promise to slip back into the past. 

Slipping further down the dock, you make your way toward the place you’d always come to sit. Just as you’re about to turn down the row, your eyes catch on a figure already sitting at the very end. His arms are out behind him, his head leaned back while his legs dangle off the edge of the dock. He’s off to the right side. He always sat on the right side. 

It’s undoubtedly Charles. You could tell from a mile away. It’s the way he holds himself, the way he slouches, the way his hair tosses in the wind. Your heart constricts in your chest as you see him sitting there in a spot that was only ever meant for the two of you. 

Slowly, you make your way down the dock. He’s been waiting for you here. What that means, you have no idea. But one thing is certain, he wants to see you, otherwise he wouldn’t be here.

Without a word, you sit down next to him, letting your feet hang over the water. He doesn’t look at you, nor you at him. Instead, you both just look out over the water in silence. This is what you were both practiced at. When there was something to be said, but no one knew how to say it, this is what you did. There’s something about the sea that always helped figure things out, it always healed the hurt. Maybe it will do the same today as it did in the past. 

Closing your eyes, you breathe in the smell of the bay. You’ve always loved the ocean, it’s power and beauty. When you were just a girl, you were jealous of it. You remember those feelings well. A little girl’s jealousy. But still, there was truth to it. You wish desperately for the power of the ocean now, as you sit here with the embodiment of your past. You hope endlessly for its serenity as you battle the emotions inside of you. 

Cracking your eyes open again, you dare to turn your head towards your old best friend. Surprise ripples through you when you find him already looking at you. Your eyes lock and it’s finally time to face him. 

For the first time in five years, you really let yourself study him. His hair is long, but styled well. It suits him. His eyes are bright, but not entirely joyful. There are new lines and spots on his face, showing that he’s growing up. There’s a pleasant amount of stubble on his jaw. His lips are still pink and lovely. His neck has grown large due to his occupation, along with all of his other muscles.

Your mind flicks back to that night on the dock where you shared your first kiss. That little teenage boy you used to know has grown into this gorgeous man that sits in front of you. He’s not just physically fuller, he’s larger than life. It feels nearly impossible that this is the Charles that you once knew, the Charles that you once loved. 

“I knew you’d come out here eventually,” Charles says, his lips tilting up into a half-hearted smile. One of his dimples pops for just a second before falling away again. The sight is so familiar it makes your heart race. 

Clenching your jaw, you just nod. What are you supposed to say to him? There are a million things poised on your lips, but you can’t bring yourself to voice any of them. Fear of the answers to your questions holds you back.

“Want to talk about it?” Charles says coyly, a shy smile playing across his mouth as he tilts his head to the side. This pulls a small laugh from you. He’s quoting himself from all those years ago when you sat here together. You’d stormed out of your house when your dad did something or other and ended up here. It was the night that you kissed. It was the night you fell in love with my best friend. 

“No,” You answer with a small smile, now quoting yourself. Charles sighs while shaking his head. Your name rolls off his tongue and it’s like no time has passed at all. You’re both teenagers with both parents still alive and big dreams waiting out on the horizon. Enamored as ever, you look him deep in the eyes. 

With one last deep breath of ocean air, you take the plunge.

“You never gave me a reason.” A simple sentence that means everything.

When his father died, he was still working on getting an F1 contract. He had lied to his father on his deathbed about signing with Ferrari. He was so torn up about it that his entrance into F1 was tainted. He became obsessed and threw himself into the sport with everything he had. For a while, there was nothing but racing for him. Charles wasn’t Charles for a long time. 

When he started racing in F1 for Alfa Romeo, you were left behind. Contact fizzled out until one day he was just completely gone. He never called, never responded to any of your texts or voicemails. After a few months, you got the message and stopped trying. Nearly five years of radio silence and now here he is, sitting in front of you.

“You never even bothered to say goodbye.” Your voice is just a broken whisper. The breeze floating over the water whips at your hair and cheeks. Quiet sloshing of waves is all you hear for a while. Charles stares at you with glossy eyes. His mouth is slightly ajar, waiting for a suitable answer to come to him.

“I’m sorry,” He says, that frown coming back onto his face. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was lost and young and stupid.”

You hum in concurrence.

“By the time I realized what I did, you were long gone. I didn’t know if you’d even want to hear from me,” he admits. 

You think about all the times in the last five years that you longed for his call. How many times have you yearned to hear his voice? To see him again? Countless. Even in the several short-lived relationships you’ve had over the years, you’ve shamefully compared them all to Charles. There was never a day that you didn’t want to hear from your best friend. In all the hiding and avoiding that you do, there’s no way to skew the truth. 

“I missed you,” Charles goes on when you don’t answer him. You can feel him staring at you, but your eyes have strayed once more to the horizon. His admission to missing you makes you feel like you might fall over. The one thing that’s always torn you up time and time again was not knowing what he was feeling like going through all of this. There were nights in the very beginning where you stared at your ceiling thinking of him and wondering if he was doing the same. Your soul longed for him then, just as it does now.

“All of those letters you wrote to maman? She sent them to me when she was finished with them. I keep them in my journal that I take with me everywhere,” Charles says while leaning toward you. “I read them over and over when I miss you so much I can’t breathe.”

He’s read your letters? You think about all the things you’ve ever said in those letters to Pascale. You bore your soul to her in some, explaining your battle with grief or what shitty guy you’d been seeing. You explained your schooling ups and downs, as well as your careers. Your life over the last five years could be easily traced through those letters. And Charles had read every single one. He’s known you more than you’ve known him in these years spent apart. Maybe you should be mad at Pascale for giving them to Charles, or at Charles for reading them, but you’re not. You’d never hidden anything from Charles before, why would that stop?

A warm hand finds a home on the side of your jaw, guiding your face away from the horizon and toward him. His eyes lock onto yours. Silently, you wonder when he got this close. His fingers hold onto your jaw, not letting you turn away from him again. 

“I miss you so much I can’t breathe,” He says again, his voice just a whisper. It catches on the breeze and floats out to sea, never to be heard again. Your heart is hammering in your chest while your mind goes blank. Your body doesn’t register this as reality. Charles is here, holding you in his hand at the end of your dock in Monaco. This scenario has played out in your dreams time and time again. The love you’d hidden away breaches the surface, pouring from you in ways you didn’t know were possible.

“I miss you, too,” you admit freely for the first time in years. Your Charles finally gives you a smile that makes him look like himself. 

Now, as he looks at you, there’s clarity in his eyes. Those green eyes that you watched grow and leave and now return are calling you to him. You understand now that you’ve both suffered enough. There’s been too much loss for there to be no gain. Finally, finally, here it is. The moment you’ve waited for since the last time you sat on this dock so close together. It’s your time.

“Charlie,” you whisper into the evening air. He perks up at his name on your lips, his eyes falling there. Every inch of you yearns to press into his touch, to never let go of it. But you’re still unsure. There’s always been more than best friends for you with Charles. You have to tell him that. It’s been hidden away inside of you for too long. If nothing else comes of this, even if you two fade into oblivion, at least you’ll have said it.

“I loved you,” you say earnestly. “I love you.”

Silence greets you. His face searches yours for a minute, his eyes wide and unreadable. Terror squeezes your chest, an ache of admitting a secret kept hidden away for too long. Desperately, you wish you could look away from him, towards your beloved horizon. Maybe you could hide yourself there. But Charles’ fingers on your jaw keep you held steadfast in place.

“I have a proposition for you,” he says finally, his face inching closer. You nearly fall over at his words. It’s a tease at what you once said to him right here, all those years ago. He remembers everything. Just like you. 

“But don’t get weird,” he quips, a smile coming across his face just before he closes the gap between you two, pressing his lips to yours. You return his smile and accept his kiss. His fingers are strong on your jaw as he pulls you in deeper. The caress of his lips on yours and the rub of his stubble feels heavenly. As many times as you can imagine a moment, it never compares to the real thing. Wild dreams and fantasies don’t even touch having Charles’ skin on yours. 

His free hand drifts down to your waist, bringing you in closer. His touch is needy, his kiss ravenous. It conveys years of desperation from both of you. Not only does it light up this moment, but it brings new life to your intertwined past. Years upon years of spending days and nights together all come down to this moment. This is where two pasts that danced around each other merge into one new life.

The sparks that fly off of the two of you bound over the water, reaching the horizon and further. The city that you were born in, the boy you were born for, and the life you were destined to discover, all wrap their arms around you at once. Finally, for the first time in years, you feel at home.

Charles hauls you onto his lap, his hands strong against your waist. Pulling away from the second kiss you’ve ever shared, you’re sure it won’t be the last. No, there’s a lifetime of moments like these ahead of you.

Charles rests his forehead against yours. His breathing is ragged mimicking your own. His eyes are shut as he runs his hands up and down your back. Sighing, you lean into his touch.

“I love you, too,” He says after a few minutes of silence. “Always have.” 

A lump rises in your throat as tears rush to your closed eyes. Even after five years of suffering, you can’t help but forgive him. These five years that you’ve spent apart have grown you both into the people you are today. Call it fate, destiny, divine intervention, whatever it may be, but something tore you apart so one day you could be together again. There was healing that needed to happen in both of you while you were separated. But now there was healing to be done together.

“We have a lot of lost time to make up for,” you can’t help but tease, your voice watery. Charles’ laugh vibrates against your hands that are pressed to his chest. He opens his eyes to look at you. His eyes are tearlined but finally filled with that joy that you’ve been desperate to see. He looks at you like you’re everything he’s ever wanted. You’re his biggest dream.

He pulls you into another searing kiss. Fireworks dance behind your eyelids as he clutches onto you. His tongue glides against your bottom lip, forcing your mouth open in a gasp. He tightens his arms around your waist, so you think he’s pulling you closer. But instead, he’s grabbing onto you as tightly as possible so you can’t fight him as he leans forward off the dock. The two of you roll off the front of the dock, splashing into the summertime sea.

When you bob up to the surface, you find Charles treading water. He’s laughing so hard that he’s barely staying afloat. For a split second, you allow yourself to enjoy the view. He’s completely doused, his light colored shirt plastered onto his skin. There’s a childlike joy radiating off of him. 

“I’ve waited so long to do that,” he admits while swimming over to you. Shaking your head, you splash him in the face as he draws in close. In retaliation, he wraps you up in his arms and kisses you so hard you fear it might bruise. Nonetheless, you kiss him right back, your legs wrapping around his waist.

“Come on, let’s go back,” you say just as the pair of you are about to slip under water. Charles presses a chaste last kiss to your lips before swimming off towards the dock.

As you turn to swim after him, you cast one last look over your shoulder to the watery horizon. The sea really did what it does best: it healed.

[queer-n-here]

Omg imagine Chuuya using his ability to ride you harder

Oh my fucking god, what writer's block?

This just blew me away for no reason at all, bro what?

Contents: Chuuya using his ability while riding you.

Warnings: Smut, top male reader, biting, marking, riding, daddy kink.

Chuuya was far from satiated.

He had been riding you for a while now, back dripping sweat as he grinded down on your cock for the nth time, breath uneven and sped up, eyes filled with tears that had not yet fallen.

His naked body was moving in a way so slutty you had to grip his waist and leave marks on his skin to remind yourself that he was real, here, and not a dream.

His dishevelled hair stuck to his sweat-covered forehead, his lips chapped and bloody from your rough kisses and his own teeth. There were bite marks all over his neck, chest, torso; you hadn't left a single inch of his pale skin untouched.

You were sitting back against the headboard of your shared bed, Chuuya in your lap as he bounced wildly on your cock, loud ah-ah-ahs echoing around the room as sounds of skin slapping skin almost drowned them out. His fingers were gripping onto your shoulders for balance, gripping so hard you knew he'd drawn blood with his blunt nails without needing to look.

But it wasn't enough, wasn't enough, just WASN'T.

Chuuya suddenly glowed black, his trembling thighs outlined by the glow that seemed to come from every inch of his skin. You felt the weight on your thighs increase suddenly, and he sunk down so low on your dick that even your balls were embedded into him.

"Fuck, Chuuya," You gasped, fingers digging even deeper into his skin as he grinded down on your cock again, using his ability to take you even further.

"Ngh!" Finally, your tip hit that spot that you could find so easily in him.

Ecstatic, he did it again, hips eager and wanting, eyes finally dripping tears. He cried out as he sped up, his movements somehow even wilder, the only thoughts in his head ways on how to chase that pleasure.

"F-fuck yeah," Chuuya gasped, jaw loose. "Ah, feels so good, [Name]!"

You hardly had the breath in you to speak, what with him going to town on your cock like it was his last day on earth, clenching so hard around your cock you saw stars.

"Such a little slut, Chuuya," You managed to say somehow. "Using your ability like this, heh, who would have thought? You like it that much?"

And he nodded in response, eyes glazed over. "Daddy's little slut. Only yours."

Your eyes widened, and then you chuckled, pulling Chuuya close and letting him bury his head into the crook of your neck as he continued assaulting your cock. You knew full well he would rather admit to being short than repeat his words once he could think again, but the moment was raw, and so you decided to push him a little more.

"Daddy's slut, huh?" You murmured into his ears, your hips rising to meet his half-way through. "Such a good slut, taking all of my cock so well. You sure know how to please daddy, don't you, Chuuya?"

He nodded, arms wrapped around you so tight it was as if he was afraid you'd leave without cumming in him.

He was trembling all over now, and even with the assistance of his ability, his movements had gotten sloppier. You knew he was close, so you reached forwards, grabbed the hair at the back of his head and pulled him into a kiss.

When he came, ropes of come shooting out of his dick, he collapsed almost immediately against your chest, panting. You kept going, thrusting up into him for your own orgasm, and he let you.

Once you'd painted his walls white, you slowed down to a stop.

Chuuya refused to get off of you, so you let him lay on you, cock still buried deep into him, even though his ability had withdrawn.

A moment passed, and you let him catch his breath.

You planted chaste kisses all over his face, making him smile softly, eyes closed. There was a big mess where you two met that you knew you had to take care of, so you carried him to the bathtub. Even when you sat down in the water, holding Chuuya in your lap, he hadn't let you pull out of him.

For a while, there was a comfortable silence.

Then, "So... Daddy, huh?"

As you burst into laughter, Chuuya smacked your shoulder weakly, ears red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

"Fuck off," He mumbled, burying his head deeper into your shoulder.

"On a more serious note, though," Your smirk faded into a soft smile, and you peeled him off of you just enough to look him in the face. "If you're into that just tell me, hmm? I don't mind."

Your voice was so quiet, and your expression so gentle that even Chuuya couldn't bring himself to deny it. Yes, he was into it. And yes, he was very, very embarrassed about it.

So he said nothing, choosing to return to the crook of your neck instead, and you let him. It was a silent conformation, the best you could get out of him.

[infinite-beginnings]

The line when Charles said, "Edwin's told me loads of stories about Hell," and him seeming to know he'd find a map in Edwin's book always hits me hard.

Now I acknowledge Charles might’ve been posturing to reassure the Night Nurse he could navigate Hell, but let's assume this fact was real.

Because that means that Edwin felt comfortable enough to talk about all of his trauma to Charles. He mentions Hell a lot in passing in front of the girls, but he never goes into specifics. However, it seems as if he actively told Charles quite a few details about Hell. I also noticed that Charles is very calm when he's going to find Edwin. Yes, he's studying the book a lot, but he is also navigating the space with a certain amount of confidence. I'm sure it's partially due to Charles' tendency to do things without thinking and project confidence. But also, it seems as if he might have at least a very basic level of knowledge or familiarity with the levels of Hell based on the stories Edwin told.

I think this is probably another reason why Edwin struggled to believe the fact that Charles had faced abuse in his past and never shared it with Edwin. Because Edwin was always up front and honest with Charles. He told him the very first time they'd met that he had just escaped Hell. I'm sure Edwin did not want to relive his memories of Hell, and maybe it took him decades to feel like he could share. But I bet when he started talking about it with Charles, he felt relief. Because sharing your trauma with someone who accepts you and loves you no matter what is always a relief after holding it in and pushing it down.

So I just imagine Edwin feeling that relief after sharing his stories from Hell and feeling closer and more bonded with Charles because of it...and then he finds out that Charles has this huge amount of trauma from his past that he has been keeping inside. It probably breaks Edwin's heart that he hadn't been able to offer Charles the same relief he'd felt.

And yes, Crystal mentioned that Charles was probably denying the trauma even to himself. We all know that Edwin knew something was off with Charles and that he was probably frustrated in himself because he hadn't been able to figure it out, but Crystal apparently had.

But I also think there might be another level to it. The boys have been solving cases for 30 years. I find it hard to believe that they never had another case involving abuse or at least someone with a controlling personality that would've reminded Charles of his father. Maybe Edwin thinks back to a couple of those cases and how Charles was acting strange and withdrawn during them and realized he'd missed a huge clue about how his friend was feeling.

All those years of sharing his stories from Hell and being comforted by Charles and Edwin hadn't been able to do the same. Edwin is definitely hurt that Charles didn't feel like he could confide in him and heartbroken to think about how much pain his friend was going through alone.

[thefrogdalorian]

The Arrangement

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: You entered into an arrangement with Mando find some physical relief from the monotony of hyperspace as you travel through the galaxy together as a formidable team of bounty hunters. When you did so, there were three clear rules: that it would not impact your professional relationship, that there were no strings attached and most importantly of all: that Mando would never, ever remove his helmet.

When you carelessly let your emotions get the better of you and undermine those rules, you fear you have lost the man who means everything to you and discover that you miss much more than merely the physical encounters…

Word Count:  7.1k ✯ Rating:  Explicit 18+ MDNI ✯ Content Warnings: Smut, light angst, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex. ✯ Author's Note: Well, this was by far the spiciest thing I have ever written and I hope you like it! I get the urge to write smut very occasionally and it was actually pretty fun to explore this side of a relationship with Din. Thanks to the lovely @decembermidnight for helping me out with this one and encouraging me through it! Very much a "Goooood Anakin, gooooood," dynamic. Nervous about posting this one so I'm going to run and hide now but hope you enjoyed it! :)

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

As you lie forlornly on your bunk, isolating yourself further from the man who has already put distance between the two of you, you rue the day you ever allowed yourself to enter into an arrangement with such an elusive man. You think back to all the moments you have shared since your paths first crossed, reminiscing over each one of your encounters. 

Tonight is not the first night you chastise yourself for allowing yourself to become entangled with a Mandalorian; far from it. 

Since you and Mando first started sleeping together, there have been frequent occasions when you have regretted the day that you gave into your desires and ever allowed yourself to end up underneath him, especially since he is so reclusive and aloof by nature. His reserved nature occasionally frustrates you, though you have always successfully hidden that. Well, almost always. 

Mando’s withdrawn, quiet nature began as an attractive trait. His stoic, quiet nature first drew you to him as a business partner. 

Except, now you have become something more to each other, such a trait prevents you from knowing him entirely. 

And, boy, do you want to know him entirely. 

Unfortunately, it seems as though you never will. A fact that you are painfully aware of now Mando cannot even stand to be in the same room as you. He is always hiding away in the cockpit. 

You are frustrated at yourself for ever allowing yourself to feel so deeply for him. 

What started as a casual arrangement is undeniably something more to you now. He means something more to you now. The man whose presence you cannot bear to be without. The man whose absence creates a great cavernous void in your chest that feels overwhelming. 

The arrangement between you and Mando started as a physical release for you. A way to scratch an itch. With no strings attached, the arrangement was merely a way of passing time as you hurtled through hyperspace to collect the next bounty. 

You were instantly attracted to Mando since you first glanced at him in the Cantina on Nevarro. With his broad shoulders, narrow waist and imposing form, it was impossible to tear your eyes away from him when he strode in. Even though mostly hidden beneath his armour, you were certain he was gorgeous. 

Then you heard him speak.

Maker. His voice. So deep. His tone was so even, including when he was frustrated by the conversation with the head of the Bounty Hunters’ Guild on Nevarro. Even in the face of adversity, Mando kept his composure. The hulking warrior seemed so composed, so certain. His voice was calm and steady. 

As a fellow member of The Guild, you were unable to resist the tempting urge to eavesdrop on his conversation with Greef Karga. You heard all about how Mando was struggling to afford the interest on paying off the ridiculous loan he had taken to buy the antiquated Razor Crest. You discovered he was having increasing difficulty covering the fuel that the old girl guzzled. After hearing about his predicament, an idea formed in your head.

It was rare for two members of The Guild to collaborate in such a way. After all, Mando should have been your competition. Something about him was drawing you to him, though. You felt compelled towards him, as though some invisible Force was pushing you together. 

You proposed an arrangement to him. 

In return for keeping the credits from your jobs, this mysterious Mandalorian would provide transport, lodgings and fuel in his ship. Considering it was an offer to have one of the best Bounty Hunters in the parsec come aboard his ship, you knew it was an offer he could not refuse. Sure enough, Mando accepted. 

You had been together ever since.

At first, the arrangement was strictly business. You both kept yourselves to yourselves. Never prying into the other’s affairs.

However, after a couple of months spent traversing the galaxy together, there was a shift in your dynamic.

It turned out that two people existing together in a confined space with only each other to converse with to break the monotony of endless hyperspace lanes would find conversation and, eventually, friendship in each other. Despite their best efforts to avoid such a dynamic. 

While friendship blossomed, so did other feelings. 

You had never been able to deny your attraction to Mando to yourself. Pretty soon, you could not even deny it to him. Not when he asked you outright after imbibing one too many flagons of spotchka. 

The first night you slept together was after a particularly heavy night of drinking at a seedy Cantina next to the shipyards of Corellia. There had been an unavoidable tension in the air that night. The alcohol had only enhanced your existing attraction towards each other to the point where it was no longer possible to ignore. The booze finally gave you the courage to vocalise them. 

The tension which lingered in the air all evening was only magnified when you finally staggered back to the Razor Crest. It was practically suffocating being so close to him in that old ship. 

In hoping that you would quickly fall into Mando’s bunk alongside him, you had vastly underrated the meticulousness of your business partner. 

Even in your inebriated states, he had taken the time to lay out the ground rules. Despite how desperate you were for him, every inch of you aflame, Mando had insisted on setting some boundaries before your first time together. 

Firstly, he insisted that sleeping together should not get in the way of your professional relationship. Mando would not give you favourable rates or discounts, nor would he expect them from you, just because you were sleeping together. He made it abundantly clear that, at any time, either of you could back out. The end of the arrangement would not impact your life together.

Secondly, there were no strings attached. No feelings. No declarations of love were wanted nor expected. Ideally, no emotions at all; this was strictly a physical relationship. You were to enjoy each other’s bodies and bring each other pleasure, but that did not necessarily mean that feelings ran any deeper than merely enjoying the way he relentlessly pounded into you, night after night, as you soared through the stars together. 

Thirdly, and most importantly to Mando: the armour stayed on. All of it. Including the helmet. You were never, under any circumstances, to question this rule. You were never to attempt to remove any of his armour. If you did, it would not only terminate your physical arrangement with Mando. But your professional one, too.

You were so desperate to finally relieve the tension that had been simmering for months that you were more than happy to agree to terms. 

You did not regret your decision for even a moment once Mando ended up in the bunk with you.

In allowing your desire for him to win out, you discovered that he was a skilled lover, even with the limitations of his armour. You could not touch him, see his face or feel his mouth, but he made it work. He always ensured you came first, knowing exactly how to please you.  

Your encounters with Mando were a way to blow off steam, a release you both craved. It broke up journeys and brought you closer together. Your professional lives went from strength to strength. You were attuned to each other’s bodies. With each encounter, it felt as though you were slowly becoming one.

Even if you feared catching feelings for Mando, you always consoled yourself that it would never amount to anything. You were sure he did not feel for you in that way.

Whenever you doubted the arrangement, you thought about how the positives far outweighed the negatives. After all, keeping your sexual encounters in-house, so to speak, was a far safer option than putting yourselves in such a vulnerable position, entirely at the behest of others. Your reputation as a formidable bounty-hunting team preceded you throughout the galaxy. You were certain that there would be no shortage of people who would be keen to seduce you and Mando for their benefit.

The arrangement was perfect for both of you. It satisfied your carnal desires. 

At least, at first, it did. 

The closer you grew to Mando, the more your lives became intertwined, the more difficult it was to respect how strongly he felt about keeping himself covered when you slept together. 

To begin with, Mando only took his cock out of the confines of his flightsuit. His armour remained on, digging into your skin. The various plates of his armour colliding roughly with your skin was a sensation you did not mind one bit, especially the touch of his cool beskar on your flushed skin. 

Although you were entirely naked before him, with every inch of your skin displayed. At first, Mando did not even remove his gloves.

During those early encounters, you would barely even touch him. Fearful of being scolded, of ruining what you had. He often took you from behind, pounding into you after he bent you over the crates or the edge of his bunk. Sometimes on the cockpit's dashboard itself, if you were particularly desperate for each other and could not make it down the ladder to your bunk.

Still, the more you and Mando got intimate with one another, the more desperate you were to reach the man below. 

When he finally allowed you to ride him as he sat on the red leather seat of the cockpit, your ass brushing against the cool metal of his thigh plates, you took your chance.

You frantically pushed through the coarse material of his cowl and moved the material which guarded his neck so you could place your lips upon the soft, golden skin you discovered there. 

Mando did not seem to mind, never pushing you away. 

It became a ritual whenever you slept together. You, delighting as you sucked marks that no one else would be able to see, while Mando groaned and praised you. 

You knew the marks were just between the two of you, for your eyes only. Still, their presence nonetheless gave you a thrill in the days afterwards. Especially, when you saw him interacting with others. To know that you had marked him. You had claimed him as yours.

It was a heady prospect that this formidable Mandalorian warrior had been reduced to a whimpering mess by your lips, by such a simple act. He had allowed you to claim him. 

It was also a dangerous prospect… to think of him as yours.

You did not dwell on it for too long, however. 

After that first time you desperately sought out his skin as you rode him in the cockpit, something shifted deep within Mando. 

That small action had clearly awakened some previously untouched feelings in him. The next time you slept together Mando allowed you to remove his flightsuit. You had not acknowledged this shift or dared to believe that it could mean that he held any deeper feelings for you than the lust and desperation borne out of your encounters. 

Still, from that day forth, rather than just taking his impressive length out and nothing else, he would undress himself and wait for you on the bunk, clad in nothing but his helmet. 

It was a sign of ultimate trust. Of vulnerability from a man who you knew rarely allowed himself to feel such an emotion. 

Now you lie here despondently at the knowledge that you have ruined everything. 

Your heart constricts as you remember how close you and Mando once had been. How much you had trusted each other. Entirely. Unquestioningly.

Those times seem so distant now.

Now that you and Mando have stopped speaking. 

Since your last encounter more than a week ago, which happened in the aftermath of a particularly stressful job on the forest planet where you had collected your latest bounty, he has not said a word to you. 

Mando has been completely ignoring your existence… and you have a pretty good idea as to the reason why. 

In fact, as you think back to your most recent encounter, turning over the thoughts in your mind once again, you are certain of the moment you ruined everything…

✯✯✯✯✯

You had barely made it to the bunk, so desperate for each other after spending days camped out in the undergrowth. Dirt still clung to your pores, invading every crease of your body. There had been no opportunity to use the sonic. You were preoccupied with loading up the bounty, as Mando started the Razor Crest’s launch sequence. Despite your dishevelled, filthy appearance, Mando did not seem to mind. He initiated another encounter without hesitation. 

Your condition seemed to unlock something primal within him when you bore yourself to him, traces of dirt on your skin. The musky scent of the forest planet clung to him as he bared his hulking form to you after stripping out of his flightsuit. He was feral, desperate for you as he pounded into you at a merciless pace. Mando moaned loudly and chanted your name as though it were a sacred prayer until he finished with one long growl of your name in his deep, gravelly voice that strained under each syllable.

In the aftermath, as you lay on his strong chest, you allowed your mind to wander. You wondered what the man beneath the helmet looked like. Whether he was as attractive as the rest of his body suggested. His body was firm and toned without being overwhelmingly muscular. There was a softness to his belly and chest you appreciated. A physique more than appropriate for a man of his age. 

You ached to move your hands beneath his helmet, tracing his features with your fingers so that you may see him in the only way possible for you to do so. To catch the vaguest of glimpses of the man who had brought you so much pleasure over the last few months. 

Still blissed out from your multiple orgasms and barely comprehending the gravity of your words and how dangerously close to the line you were stepping, you said something which you wished you could take back almost as soon as the words were out of your mouth. 

“I wish I could see your face when you moan my name, Mando,” you sighed as you lay there in the afterglow. 

The shift was immediate. You felt Mando tense beneath you. Your comment had unsettled him. The guilt was immediate.

“Wait, Mando,” you quickly added, your blood ran cold as you realised your carelessness, “I wasn’t asking you to remove it… I was just thinking out loud. Please, Mando, I…”

Your words were cut off when he shuffled out from beneath you, disentangling himself from your limbs that had been entwined ever since you collapsed in a heap of breathless satisfaction after your latest encounter.

Without uttering a single word to you, you heard Mando’s heavy footsteps echo throughout the metallic hull and disappear into the fresher to finally wash the grime from his body. 

When he finally exited, you attempted to apologise to him one more time. Unfortunately, he was thoroughly uninterested in anything you had to say. You stood before him, the threadbare blanket from the bunk wrapped around you, pleading for mercy. A formidable bounty hunter reduced to a trembling wreck, begging for Mando's forgiveness. Mando did not respond to anything you said. Instead, he immediately excused himself while mumbling about checking the hyperdrive generator. 

✯✯✯✯✯

Throughout the last few miserable days, you have distracted yourself from the uneasy atmosphere which hangs heavy in the ship by thoroughly polishing each one of your blasters and thinking back to happier times. 

Like the time when Mando stripped himself from his flightsuit for the first time and allowed you to finally see him almost entirely. As entirely as you ever would.

The way his taut, toned flesh felt underneath your fingers as you traced each ridge of his muscles with delicate, tentative fingers. His sweaty skin slapped against yours, an obscene noise which reverberated throughout the rest of the ship.

As you lie back on your bunk, you cannot help your fingers trailing down your abdomen. Lower and lower until they reach between your thighs. 

You are stunned by how wet you are before you have even touched yourself, so turned on by merely the memories of Mando.

You gather your wetness with your fingers before you begin moving them in a circular motion over your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

You think back to that first time you laid eyes upon Mando. His impressive physique. The way he picked up the pace to fuck you even harder when you raked your nails down his flesh. Moaning and grunting into your neck as you left marks down his broad back. 

You remember the unmistakable scent of sex that lingered in the air afterwards, amplified by the fact there were now two bare bodies during your encounters, not just one. It was almost overwhelming to your senses, the scent of him. So masculine and musky. So Mando.

You groan at the memory, clenching around nothing. You feel so empty, desperate to feel the delicious burn as Mando’s thick cock stretches you and reaches parts of you never filled before. You slide two fingers inside yourself and begin thrusting out. Although it satisfies the ache, it pales in comparison to the fullness and completeness you feel whenever Mando snaps his hips forward and thrusts into you in one fluid motion. 

You try to remember how he felt, pathetically imagining that your fingers are in any way comparable to his touch. To his length. It is the best you are going to get, for now.

Your nipples pebble and tighten beneath the thin cotton shirt you wear. The material provides some friction, but nothing as satisfying as when Mando would roll them between his thumb and forefinger, causing you to throw your head back in ecstasy. Still, you moan at the memory, continuing to thrust your fingers inside of you with one hand while the other massages your clit. 

“Mando,” you gasp when you pick the pace up. 

Both hands and your fingers working in tandem still are nowhere near as satisfying as even one of Mando’s thick, calloused digits. 

“Kriff, Mando!” you yell as your legs begin trembling.

You are so close now. That familiar feeling builds somewhere deep inside of you. A coil tightening, ready to release. 

A familiar voice behind you, tone full of concern, “Are you okay? I heard–” followed by a gasp of surprise and hastily retreating footsteps kills the mood instantly.

“Sith hells!” you exclaim, annoyed to have been interrupted when you were so close to climax.

That frustrated feeling soon gives way to embarrassment as you realise that Mando probably heard you from all the way up in the cockpit. He has spent much of his time up there, only descending the ladder to use the fresher or prepare himself rations. Even then, he usually only comes down when he can hear that you have sealed yourself into your bunk for the night. 

You must have called his name far louder than you had realised in the throes of passion. You wonder how you will ever face him again. You pull your pants up and step out of the bunk, keen to at least attempt to converse with the stubborn buckethead. 

Fortunately, you do not have to wait long. Mando soon emerges from the fresher. There is an awkward silence. He stands there, clad in his flightsuit and helmet, clenching and unclenching his gloved fists at his sides repeatedly. It is a mannerism you recognise well, usually seen when he is trying to size up a target or decide his next move. Is that how he sees you—as prey?!

“Mando,” you breathe, “Please, can we talk?”

Mando does not move a muscle. He stands perfectly still, at full height. A looming, intimidating presence in the darkness of the hull. 

“Look, I know I upset you the other day,” you begin, sincerely laying out your feelings and hoping that he comprehends how remorseful you are. “I’m so sorry, Mando. Please believe me. I know what I said was thoughtless, but I wasn’t thinking. I would never expect you to take your helmet off for me. I know how much being a Mandalorian means to you. I would never try to come between you and your Creed,” you promise.

You briefly pause, searching Mando’s body language for the smallest clue as to his feelings. Unfortunately, he is so used to hiding his emotions from the rest of the galaxy that you cannot glean even a crumb of information.

“I miss you, Mando,” you sigh, “And not just like that!” you hastily add, hoping that he does not think your apology is in any way related to the compromising position he just caught you in. 

Mando remains perfectly still. It’s progress, at least. He has not retreated. You take that as a sign to continue. 

“I miss the nights we spent together in the cockpit, sharing memories of our past and discussing our hopes for the future. The way you would always make sure there was a warm cup of caf for me each morning when I finally hauled myself from the bunk. You were always so eager to rise, while I have never been a morning person,” you smile fondly, attempting to fight the tears that have suddenly pooled on your waterline. “Remember when you showed me each of your weapons? Showing me just how you liked them polished and ordered. Somewhere along the way, they became our arsenal, Mando. Our weapons are together in the locker, side-by-side. Just like us.”

You finally get the first clue of the impact your words are having on Mando when his broad shoulders rise and fall. The shaky breath he takes is amplified by his vocoder. Reminiscing has left him emotional on some level, too. It’s a positive sign. You make headway with it.

“I will forever be grateful for the day I overheard that conversation with Karga in that Cantina on Nevarro. Even though I used to curse this ship after I first came aboard, I think it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Without it and the loan you took out to cover costs, you would never have required someone else. I know…” you sigh, choosing your next words carefully as you are painfully aware that you are likely going to come dangerously close to overstepping another boundary. “I know that you do not always take kindly to strangers, Mando. I know that you have been alone for so long that you have probably forgotten what it feels like to be with someone else. But what we had was something special. I miss that. I miss us, Mando.”

Mando’s helmet falls, then. His unrelenting, steely gaze is finally off you. You are getting through to him. You keep talking, hoping that your words have the desired effect.

“You mean so much more to me than our encounters, Mando,” you confess. “I enjoyed every second, don’t get me wrong. But I would take them all back in a heartbeat to go back to how things were before. I would rather have only had you in my life platonically than having you like that and losing you…

What happens next catches you completely off-guard.

Firstly, Mando tilts his helmet up. His helmet is finally level with you again, focused on you. You look into the dark, T-visor where you imagine his eyes would be. You can almost feel his eyes on you. Your heart starts thundering. You feel that connection back. That spark.

Before you even have time to digest his actions, Mando’s deep voice finally breaks the silence:

“I love you,” he says simply. 

Does he love you?! You are sure you misheard him. Your desperate mind is playing the cruellest trick of all. 

“Y-You love me?” you choke out in disbelief.

“I do.”

“Oh, Mando, I love you too,” you tearfully whisper.

“Din,” Mando rasps.

You look at him questioningly.

“My name,” Mando nods, “It’s Din. Din Djarin.”

“Din Djarin,” you murmur the name of the man you love with such reverence, as though it is a sacred prayer, enjoying the way your mouth curves around each letter. 

Your head is still spinning from Din’s declaration and the reveal of his name. You have barely had time to process the events which have just transpired when he drops the next bombshell on you.

“I want to remove my helmet in front of you,” Din declares, “I want you to know me entirely.”

“Din, I wouldn’t expect such a thing,” you shake your head frantically, “Just because we have confessed our feelings, I would never expect you to take such a drastic step.”

“That…” he sighs, “Is precisely why I am taking such a step.”

You do not have time to vocalise any further protestations. Before another thought can enter your mind, Din lifts shaky gloved hands to the side of his helmet. You hear the unmistakable sound of a Mandalorian helmet depressurising. Something you had only ever heard through the door of the fresher until now.

Din trembles as he lifts his helmet. The emotion of the moment takes its toll as he prepares to finally bear his face to you. Your mind almost goes blank. All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears and his heavy breaths.

As the gleaming helmet finally begins to lift across his features and reveal his face to you, you get your first glimpse of the man you love.

You see patchy stubble across his jawline, a neatly trimmed moustache plush which sits atop plush, full lips, a strong nose and then, with his helmet fully removed, his most striking feature of all. His eyes. The most soulful pair of deep brown eyes that you have ever encountered.

Din Djarin is stunning. Heartachingly so. 

With just one look at his face, you know that you will never be able to allow this beautiful man to slip through your fingers. 

“Din,” you whisper, your eyes filling with tears as he stands there before you, his helmet clutched before him as he looks up at you.

There is so much nervousness and anxiety in his gaze that your heart aches for him. Unable to bear the eye contact any longer, Din bends down and places his helmet at his feet with a satisfying clunk. 

He stands up straight again, but not to his full height. With his face bared and the slight tremble evident in his body. You no longer see a hulking Mandalorian warrior and feared bounty hunter. Instead, you see a frightened man, who has never known such intimacy before.

“You are so handsome, Din Djarin,” you whisper, as you close the distance between you. 

Din’s mouth hangs open as your words sink in. You raise your hand, realising you are trembling with emotion, and timidly place it along his jawline. The patchy stubble is scratchy underneath your fingers.

“Devastatingly handsome, in fact,” you clarify.

“Thank you,” Din nods gratefully.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Din swallows thickly, steadying himself. When his brown eyes fly open and meet yours again, you notice the apprehension has been replaced by something different altogether.

Din’s brown eyes are aflame, burning with desire for you. You sense he is desperate to act on his feelings, but unsure of how to proceed.

“Can I kiss you?” you request.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” Din murmurs, closing his eyes again.

“You’ll learn quickly,” you say encouragingly. 

Din nods slowly, without opening his eyes. 

You close the distance between you, hovering an inch from his lips. You want Din to make the final move, to bring your lips together.

When he finally does, it is so achingly sweet and timid that you are surprised this is the same man who has bent you over crates and driven into you over and over, at a relentless pace. Until you were bruised and sore the next day from the force. 

Din pulls away, breathing deeply. A simple touch has been almost overwhelming for him. 

You wait for his next move, allowing him to take the lead with what he is comfortable with. When Din finally leans in again, he is more eager to claim your lips. The kisses deepen, growing increasingly frenzied as your tongues collide. Your hand trails along Din’s jawline and grazes along his neck. When you move your hands into his hair and tangle your fingers in the soft strands there, Din groans and presses his body against you.

In response, you lean your head to the side to give him unfettered access to your mouth. Din does not hesitate to take advantage, deepening the kiss without hesitation. He moves his enormous hands up to your cheeks, cupping them in his enormous hands. 

Your kisses grow more desperate and frenzied, the moaning and panting increasing. Although Din was inexperienced and clumsy at first, your teeth clashing and his tongue searching yours desperately before he learned a more pleasurable ratio of tongue to mouth, you discover that he is indeed a quick learner. He nibbles on your lip, using his teeth in a way that he discovers you like as you throw your head backwards and gasp his name. You are still getting accustomed to the novelty of being able to call him something other than Mando. 

When your lungs burn, Din finally pulls away. The two of you furiously gulp air into your lungs, steadying your breaths as your eyes meet. You allow yourself to look at Din once again, admiring the features which are so new to you. Yet somehow, comfortingly familiar. You feel as though you have always known his face. In Din’s brown eyes, you see awe, shock and lust. Despite their already dark colour, they are blackened by something primal.

You are about to suggest taking this to your bunk when Din drops to his knees before you, a dark look on his face. You are about to question the gesture when he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of your pants and shimmies them down your legs as he goes. 

He kisses a path up your legs, pushing himself up so he kneels one leg as he pays particular attention to your inner thighs. Din takes his time teasing you. He removes the final barrier between you, discarding the pesky fabric elsewhere. 

When Din finally kneels before you, your glistening core bare to him you feel your knees weaken as he licks his lips at the sight in front of him. You groan, barely able to remain vertical. Thankfully, Din is holding your hips firmly in position, his gloved hands digging into your flesh.

At the sight of him on his knees like this before you, you think that this experience cannot possibly be any more arousing.

Then, his tongue touches you where you have been aching for him to place his mouth most of all, and you discover how wrong you were. 

He wastes no time sliding his tongue through your wet folds. Din makes up for his inexperience with enthusiasm and you move your hands down to run your fingers through his soft, dark curls. Keen to keep him in just the right spot, especially when he finally places his tongue where your fingers had been frantically circling minutes ago. 

“Din!” you gasp, when his tongue picks up its pace, clenching your thighs around his head and feeling his facial hair tickle your inner thighs.

Hearing his name fall from your lips in such a desperate manner only encourages him. He continues lapping at your core with a renewed fire and determination.

“Just there, just like that,” you praise.

Din continues for a few more moments and you feel your orgasm gathering pace within you. When your legs begin to shake, he moves his head back and you almost scream in frustration. But then you see the look on his face, and his sins are soon forgiven.

“Know how long I’ve wanted to bury my face between your thighs?” Din rasps, his voice barely audible and muffled thanks to his current position. “So beautiful,” he adds, before his tongue is on you again and all coherent thought leaves.

The pace is relentless now, Din swirling his tongue around your most sensitive spot as he seems driven to please you. To have you screaming his name so loud they can hear you all across the galaxy.

You chant his name over and over as your orgasm finally breaks, causing pleasure to reverberate throughout your body. Every inch of you is on fire for him. Din looks up at you, his brown eyes practically black. He makes an obscene slurping noise as he seems determined to collect everything on his tongue, not allowing a single drop of you to go to waste.

“Delicious,” Din rasps as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking at you with a satisfied smirk. 

You cannot believe how much he seems to relish in your release. How much it arouses him. You know he has always enjoyed pleasing you, just as much as receiving his release. Now, his benevolent nature is on full display once again. 

Satisfied you can at least stand by yourself, Din rises to his feet. He looms over you, eyes meeting yours and softening briefly, with something which looks suspiciously like love. You wonder how long he has looked at you like that. How many affectionate glances have been stolen from your eyes by his helmet? 

None of that matters, now.

Your train of thought is interrupted as Din resumes kissing you, pinning you up against the cold metallic walls of the Razor Crest. You can barely breathe, unable to move for a few moments as he kisses you. Once you regain feeling in your trembling legs, you begin nudging Din in the direction of the bunk.

He never breaks the kiss as you stumble across the floor. Din cannot get enough of kissing you, his enormous hands roaming all over your body. 

The kiss is only broken once the back of your knees hits the bunk. You sit on the hard surface, looking up at him flirtatiously through your eyelashes. You decide Din is far too clothed for your liking and move to free his straining bulge from his tight brown flightsuit. Before you can feel his familiar length in your hand, he places his hand on your wrist and moves you away from him.

You look at him in confusion before he whispers, “Lie back, cyar’ika. Let me take care of you.”

You do as he says, but not before divesting yourself of your clothes. You lie back, awaiting him. Buzzing with excitement to finally lay eyes on Din Djarin in his entirety.

You are entranced as you watch his muscles contract and relax as he removes his flightsuit. Broad muscles and chest bared to you, then his stomach and lower... his muscular thighs and toned calves. The most incredible sight you have ever seen.

Din crawls up the bunk and positions himself on top of you, supporting himself with his elbows as he resumes your makeout session with just as much veracity as before. He plunges his tongue into your mouth over and over, desperate to taste you.

It seems as though Din is scared that he will never have a chance to claim you like this again. Later, you will remind him that you are his for the rest of your days.

For now, you cannot form words, conveying your pleasure only through broken sounds which are torn from your body by Din’s skilled mouth. 

The usual straining metallic groans of the Razor Crest as it hurtles through hyperspace are joined by its occupants’ moans and gasps as they collide.

You notice that Din has finally shed his gloves when he takes your breasts in his hands. Squeezing the soft flesh and staring at them as though it is the first time he has ever laid eyes upon them. In a way, it is the first time he has seen many of your features with his own eyes, finally free from the dark visor that distorts everything.

Suddenly remembering he can take your flesh in his mouth, Din begins kissing the valley between your breasts. He trails kisses along both of them, one at a time, paying them equal attention. As though he is worshipping you. Discovering new ways he can show his affection for you. With his helmet removed, an entire galaxy of new possibilities has been opened to him. Now, there are so many ways to demonstrate his affection for you, to revere all the parts of your body he loves so much. 

Although you are enjoying his ministrations, you are growing somewhat frustrated by Din’s languid pace. The frenzied kisses and touches have given way to gentle, almost timid, exploration of your body from Din’s lips. When you are about to whine pathetically and beg him to pay attention to your aching buds, Din finally envelops them in his wet heat. He begins paying careful attention to the most sensitive part of your breast. The place where you most wanted his mouth. 

You gasp as he begins mouthing sloppy kisses around your nipple, before finally swirling his tongue around your hardened peak. You arch your back off the bunk, giving more of yourself to him. Even in your desire-addled state, you think about how much better his mouth feels than gloved fingers and hands kneading your breasts. 

You grind your hips up against Din’s hardness, desperate for some friction. Clenching around nothing as he continues sucking your nipple, each swirl of his tongue only making you more desperate for him.

When you can take it no longer, you place your hand on Din’s head and pull his hair lightly. He looks up at you, raising a dark eyebrow at you.

“Din, please,” you whine, desperate for him to finally take you.

Often, the man you knew only as Mando would tease you at this point. When he had used his deft fingers to draw an orgasm or two from you, leaving you desperate for him. You knew he was satisfied that you were ready for him, but he still wanted to hear it from your mouth. Before giving you what you wanted, he would command you to use your words in a firm tone. Imploring you to tell him where you wanted him. 

Fortunately, it appears that the man who has confessed his love for you, will not cruelly tease you. Din is just as desperate as you are; aching for that moment when he finally enters you. 

Din kisses a hot trail up the column of your neck, thrusting his hips against you in desperation. He joins his lips with yours one last time before leaning up and taking himself in hand to line himself up with you.

“Wanted to savour this moment but, kriff! You’re so perfect…” Din rambles, “Don’t think I can wait,” he grunts as he notches himself at your entrance. 

“Then don’t,” you sigh, begging him to put you both out of your misery. 

Din nods, joining your lips one last time before he slides himself into you in one swift, fluid moment. You practically see stars. 

Somehow, he feels even bigger. It has not been too long since your last encounter. Even still, you have forgotten how impressive his length is. Your fantasies could not accurately capture how his hardness touches places so deep inside of you that you wonder how it is possible. 

Although the friction and sensation are delicious, particularly as Din keeps pressing kisses all over your face and neck, you know that you won’t last long. Since Din caught you earlier when you were so close, you have been on the edge almost continually. Now, he is thrusting into you at a relentless pace. That familiar ache is back. This time, there are no interruptions. Din does not slow down or pull away. You quickly come with another gasp of his name.

After watching you come undone, you are surprised that Din does not let himself go. That he does not allow himself the release you sense he is so desperately chasing. Instead, he continues to ride out your orgasm as he thrusts into you harshly.

“One more,” Din encourages, cupping your cheek in his hand, “I know you have one more for me.”

You nod shakily, eager to please him. In response, Din clashes your lips together, grunting against your lips as he finds a new increased tempo that you are stunned he could muster. All the while impressively maintaining a steady rhythm. 

“That’s it,” Din encourages as he feels the way your pants increase and your legs tremble.

When you come with another shout of his name, Din finally lets himself go. His thrusts become increasingly erratic before he finally comes with a shout of your name, burying his face into your neck. His pants are warm against your neck as he paints your belly with hot, thick ropes of his spend. 

Din stays like that for a few more moments, careful not to hurt you with his weight as he regains his composure lying on top of you. You feel so content and begin absentmindedly tracing circles into his warm, broad back. 

Then, he lifts himself from you. You smile when he lays his head next to you on the pillow, still feeling your heart leap as you realise that you actually get to look at his face. Din looks thoroughly pleased with the events of the night. Happy that he could please you over and over. 

“I love you, Din Djarin,” you whisper fondly as you bring your hand up to his jawline, stroking his cheek softly with your thumb. 

“I love you too, ner kar’ta,” Din smiles in return, turning his cheek to press a kiss on the palm of your hand.

Since that first encounter in the Cantina on Nevarro, you and Mando have always been partners. Travelling through the galaxy as a formidable, feared pair of bounty hunters.

Now, you and Din are partners… in every sense of the word. 

[camzeecorner]

TEACH HER 18+

part two here

pairing : matt, chris, nate x sub!femreader

Summary : Nicole spends time with her friends. Matt, Chris, and Nate. During a casual hangout, the conversation shifts to sex when Nate shares his secrets, prompting Matt and Chris to join in. Noticing Nicole's silence and confusion about the topic, they decide to enlighten her that night, exploring various aspects of intimacy and how to discover pleasure in her own body.

warnings : virgin reader, no p in v, eating out, fingering?, cum eating, squirting, pet names, boob sucking, praise, manipulation if you squint. lmk what I missed!

﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡ ★ ﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡ ★ ﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡

The soft glow of string lights illuminated Nicole's room, casting a warm ambiance that enveloped her and her friends. The walls were adorned with posters of their favorite bands, and the faint scent of vanilla candles filled the air. Nicole sat cross-legged on her bed, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and nervousness as Matt, Chris, and Nate sprawled across the floor and her desk chair, laughing and joking.

“Okay, okay, so who wants to go first?” Matt grinned, leaning back with his hands behind his head. His confidence was palpable, and it made Nicole both admire and envy him.

“I’ll go,” Chris said, his voice steady. “So, there was this one time at a party…” He paused for dramatic effect, glancing around the room as if the walls themselves were listening. “I was talking to this girl, and things were going great. We ended up sneaking away to a quieter spot. You know how it goes.” He chuckled, his cheeks flushing slightly. “We kissed, and then, well… one thing led to another.”

“Dude, no way!” Matt interrupted, his eyes wide with excitement. “Did you actually—”

“Yeah, we did,” Chris admitted, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “But it was so awkward! I mean, I had no idea what I was doing. I was just trying to remember what I’d seen in movies. It was like a comedy show gone wrong.”

Nicole couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in the room easing a little. But as the conversation continued, she felt a wave of vulnerability wash over her.

Nate, who had been quiet until now, shifted in his seat. “I think the first time is always awkward,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “I remember mine. It was with my girlfriend, and I was so nervous. I kept overthinking everything—like, what if I messed it up? What if it hurt her?” He looked at Nicole, his expression sincere. “I wanted it to be perfect, but it turned out to be… well, not what I expected.”

“What do you mean?” Matt asked, his curiosity piqued.

Nate sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It was just… there was this pressure to perform, you know? I wanted to impress her, but I ended up just feeling lost. We laughed about it afterward, but in the moment, I felt like I was failing.”

“That’s so relatable,” Chris said softly, his heart aching for him. “I think we all put so much pressure on ourselves, especially when it comes to something so intimate.”

“Exactly!” Matt chimed in, his tone shifting to a more serious note. “I mean, it’s supposed to be this amazing thing, but it can be so confusing. I’ve had my fair share of awkward moments too. Like, once I tried to be all smooth, and I ended up knocking over a lamp. Total disaster!”

The room erupted in laughter, but Nicole could sense the deeper emotions beneath the surface. She shifted uncomfortably on her bed, twiddling with the loose strings on her blanket.

Nate glanced at Nicole, his expression shifting from casual curiosity to concern as he noticed the turmoil behind her eyes. It seemed she had withdrawn into a world of unspoken thoughts since their earlier chat. The air felt heavy with unshared words, and he sensed she was carrying an unseen weight. Leaning in, he broke the silence gently. “What about you, Nicole?”

When he said her name, it was like a lifeline pulling her back from her thoughts. She blinked, momentarily lost, as his warm gaze brought her back to reality. With her heart racing, she took deep breath’s collecting herself.

She giggled softly, glancing down at her lap. “What about me?” she asked in a quiet voice. She was unsure of what they were discussing and if she even wanted to know. Feeling lost throughout the conversation, she tried to piece together their words. The atmosphere seemed to shift, growing colder against her skin. She fluttered her eyes up to look at the boys.

She could hear Chris laughing silently at the earlier remarks. Matt looked at her, clearing his throat and sitting up straight. “Your first time... what was it like?” She met his gaze, completely confused by his question. “My first time what?” she asked, not grasping what he was getting at.

The boys giggled lightly. “Your first time having sex...” Chris said cheerfully, tilting his head to the side. She felt her cheeks heat up under their stares. She had thought they were just teasing her.

She felt like she was sinking into her mattress, completely hopeless. Her ears heated up and rang slightly. “...I don’t know what that is...” she spoke quietly.

Nate’s eyes widened in disbelief at her comment, his mind racing to process what he had just heard. Matt stifled a giggle, pressing his lips together to contain his amusement. Chris, on the other hand, stared at her with an unreadable expression, his brow furrowing slightly. “Wait...” Matt finally broke the silence, leaning forward with curiosity. “You’re telling us that you’ve never had sex?” She let out a frustrated sigh, shrugging her shoulders as irritation bubbled up inside her at the awkward direction of the conversation.

“I guess... I don’t even know what sex is...” she said, turning away from the boys and shifting her body at an angle to avoid their gazes. Embarrassment washed over her like a wave, making her feel small and excluded from the conversation. “You never had the sex talk with your parents?” Nate asked, still in utter shock, his voice tinged with disbelief.

She flipped onto her back, her gaze fixed on the ceiling as if searching for answers in the texture of the paint. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she shut her eyes, trying to block out the world around her. “...No... is that bad?” she spoke in a frail voice, the vulnerability evident in her tone. Chris licked his lips thoughtfully before getting up and walking toward her bed, settling beside her with a quiet intensity.

Chris ran his fingers through his hair, turning to face her with a serious expression. She sat up, bracing herself for what he was about to say. “It’s not exactly good to be unaware of it...” Chris began, choosing his words carefully to ensure she would understand. “Sex is something you should know about; it’s an important part of life.” She listened intently, absorbing every word he spoke. “What is it?” she asked, glancing around the group for answers. Matt and Nate exchanged looks before shifting their focus back to Chris, who met their gaze, ready to clarify further.

The boys were in shock, their minds racing as they processed the reality that they would have to teach their best friend about sex. They weren’t upset with her; instead, they felt a wave of empathy wash over them. They understood the constraints her parents had placed on her. Strict Christians, her parents had meticulously guided her down what they deemed the “right path,” which meant shielding her from the outside world. This overprotection kept her away from people, boys, and the very concept of sex, leaving her unprepared for the realities of life that everyone else seemed to take for granted.

“Sex is something...” Matt began, snapping his fingers and rubbing his temples as if searching for the right word. “...valuable,” Nate chimed in, finishing Matt's thought. Chris nodded in agreement, his expression serious as he recognized the weight of their conversation. The atmosphere was charged with the importance of what they were trying to convey, and the boys knew they had to get it right for her sake.

“Okay, Nicole, listen,” Chris began, his voice steady yet gentle, trying to ease the tension in the air. He shifted slightly, ensuring he had her full attention. “Sex is a natural part of life, something that happens between two people who care about each other. It’s not just a physical act; it’s also emotional. When two people decide to be intimate, they share a connection that goes beyond just their bodies.”

He paused, searching her eyes for understanding before continuing. “It’s about trust and respect. You should feel safe with the person you choose to be with. It’s important to know that it’s okay to wait until you’re ready. There’s no rush; it’s a big step, and it should never feel forced.”

Chris took a deep breath, wanting to make sure she grasped the concept fully. “When people have sex, it can lead to different things—like a deeper bond or even starting a family. But it also comes with responsibilities, like being safe and considering the feelings of everyone involved. It’s not just about pleasure; it’s about being responsible and caring for one another.”

He looked at her earnestly, hoping she could see the importance of what he was saying. “So, if you ever have questions or feel unsure, talk to someone you trust. It’s better to be informed than to go into it blindly.”

“Someone I trust?” she asked hesitantly, her eyes darting around the group for support. The boys nodded encouragingly, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity. “Well... I trust you guys,” she finally admitted, her voice gaining strength.

Nate’s head snapped up at her words, surprise etched across his face. “What are you saying?” he asked, his tone calm but laced with intrigue.

“I mean... I know you said it’s between two people, but... I trust all of you. Why can’t we all have sex... together?”

Matt suddenly choked on his drink, caught off guard by her bold question, his eyes widening in disbelief. The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of her words hanging in the air as the boys exchanged glances, unsure of how to respond to her unexpected proposal.

Matt sucked in a breath, his expression serious as he prepared to speak. “It’s possible...” he began, his voice steady but cautious. “But that’s something you really need to be sure about.” He glanced at Nate, who nodded in agreement, his gaze focused intently on Nicole.

“Especially for your first time,” Nate added, his tone softening. “Those moments are meant to be special, something you’ll remember forever. It’s important to think about what you truly want and how it feels to share that with someone.” The atmosphere grew heavy with the significance of their words, each boy acutely aware of the weight of the decision they were discussing.

“I am sure,” she spoke up defensively, her voice firm and resolute. Frustration bubbled beneath the surface; she was tired of being treated like a child. If others could explore the pleasures within their own bodies, why couldn’t she? Curiosity sparked within her, an eagerness to learn more about the complexities of intimacy.

“Doll, you really have to think about it,” Chris interjected, his tone serious as he ran a hand down his face, a gesture that revealed his concern. The weight of the conversation hung in the air, and he searched her eyes for understanding, hoping she would consider the implications of her decision.

“Please,” she spoke up, her voice tinged with desperation. She was willing to do anything to convince the boys, her heart racing as she laid it all on the line. The boys exchanged glances, an unspoken conversation passing between them. Matt smirked, his expression playful as he shot them the ‘I say let’s do it’ look, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

Chris rolled his eyes at his brother, a mix of exasperation and concern on his face. “If we do this...” he began, his tone serious as he locked eyes with her. “You have to be honest with us, okay? Tell us if you’re hurt, uncomfortable, or if it’s too much. If you want to stop, just say ‘purple.’” His gaze bore into hers, emphasizing the importance of trust and communication in this moment.

She sat up, her excitement palpable as she nodded her head rapidly, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “What do I do first?” she asked, her voice filled with eagerness. Matt and Nate began to rise, making their way over to her bed, their movements confident as they took seats close by, creating an intimate circle around her.

Chris, however, moved with a gentle assurance, placing a hand on her arm and pulling her slightly toward him. “Be patient, okay?” he spoke in a calm, soothing voice, his tone a grounding presence amidst her excitement. She nodded softly at his words, feeling the weight of his reassurance settle within her.

Chris gently pulled her small frame closer, guiding her to sit between his legs. He hooked his own legs around hers, creating a secure space as he spread her legs slightly apart. The unexpected movement caught her off guard, and she let out a soft giggle, the sound light and playful in the air as she adjusted to the new position.

Chris wrapped his arms around her waist, his fingers playfully dancing just above the waistband of her small shorts. A gasp escaped her lips at his touch, a rush of warmth flooding through her in a way she had never experienced before. She squirmed slightly, trying to shake off the unfamiliar sensation that sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Nate, observing her movements, couldn’t help but smirk to himself, amused by the tension in the air.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Nate asked, his gaze locking onto hers. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back against Chris's chest, seeking comfort in his presence. “It feels uncomfortable,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly as the words slipped out.

Matt bit his lip, intrigued. “What’s that, doll?” he prompted, leaning in closer. “My private area…” she whispered, her cheeks flushing as she spoke. “Yeah?” Chris replied, his voice low and seductive as he leaned in to her ear. “Mmhm,” she groaned, the sound escaping her lips, filled with a mix of confusion and unexpected thrill.

“You wanna know why?” Chris hummed softly against her neck, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine as he peppered gentle kisses on her delicate skin. She nodded, her heart racing with anticipation. “That’s because…” he whispered, his voice low and intimate.

With a teasing touch, he slipped his slim fingers into her shorts, grazing the fabric of her panties, sending a jolt of electricity through her. “..you’re wet,” he finished, his words hanging in the air, thick with tension and desire.

She hummed at his touch, a wave of relief washing over her as the sensation coursed through her body. “I’m wet?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, small and uncertain.

Matt shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling the fabric of his pants tighten around him. “Yeah, I’ve barely done anything, and you’re soaked,” he replied, his tone revealing a mix of surprise and intrigue.

She loved the feeling of his fingers tracing against her core, each delicate stroke igniting a fire within her. She forced her hips upward, desperately seeking more of his touch, craving the connection that sent shivers through her entire body.

“Look at you… you’re getting all wet from a little touch…” Chris whispered teasingly in her ear, his breath warm against her skin. She felt her eyes rolling back in pleasure, completely lost in the sensation, unable to get enough of the intoxicating feeling. But just as the waves of ecstasy began to build, Chris suddenly pulled his fingers away, jolting her out of her trance and leaving her yearning for more.

She looked up at Chris, her eyes shimmering with a sad and desperate expression. “W-…why’d you stop?” she asked softly, her voice tinged with longing. Chris met her gaze, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he replied, “Why don’t we let Matt have a turn…” His gaze trailed up to his brother, the air thick with unspoken tension.

He slid from underneath her, smoothly taking Matt’s spot next to Nate, the shift in weight creating a palpable tension in the air. Matt climbed into Chris’s former position, settling back into the familiar space he had occupied moments before. As he ran his fingers up and down her thighs, he could feel goosebumps rising on her skin, each gentle caress igniting a spark of anticipation that danced across her body.

His fingers found their way back to the place where she ached most, sliding in a slow, deliberate motion that sent waves of pleasure coursing through her. She tipped her head back, her mouth falling open in a breathless gasp as little pants and fragile breaths escaped her lips. “Matt…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “Hmm,” he hummed softly in response, a knowing smile playing on his lips. He could feel the effect he was having on her, the wetness on her panties growing, a testament to her desire as he continued to tease her senses.

He slipped his hand into her underwear feeling the cold wet feeling on her folds. “Oh matt..” she moaned grabbing his hand. “It’s okay.. you’re okay.” He spoke to her. He started with slow strips, going up and down her folds. She bit her lip shutting her eyes.

He started moving his fingers in a circular motion, making her legs twitch beneath him. He was going at a painfully slow pace, making her heart race and chest rise. He sped the movement of his fingers up slightly.

“Does that feel good?” Matt asked in a teasing voice, his tone playful yet intimate. She nodded her head, too overwhelmed to form words, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. A tightening sensation gripped her lower stomach, each wave of pleasure intensifying as she struggled to keep her composure.

“My… my stomach…” she squealed, a mix of surprise and pleasure in her voice. She could feel her stomach caving in, a sensation both foreign and exhilarating. The unfamiliar way her body was reacting left her breathless, as if every nerve ending was on fire, igniting a whirlwind of sensations she had never experienced before.

“You’re about to cum,” Matt spoke in a soft, enticing voice. He quickened the pace of his fingers, moving even faster, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. She yelped, arching her back in response to the overwhelming sensations. In a moment of instinct, she closed her thighs tightly, but Matt gently pushed them apart, his touch firm yet reassuring, keeping her exposed to the rising tide of ecstasy.

She was panting heavily, her breaths coming in rapid, uneven gasps as her vision blurred at the edges. A wave of shock coursed through her body, making it difficult to focus on anything around her. Every muscle felt tense and heavy, as if weighed down by an invisible force. Her legs trembled uncontrollably, a numbness creeping in that left her feeling both exhilarated and disoriented. “You came,” Matt giggled, his voice light and teasing, cutting through the haze of her sensations.

She opened her eyes slowly, the world around her coming into focus as she tried to regain her strength, still riding the waves of an intense high. “Did it feel good?” Chris asked, his voice soft as he reached forward to caress her leg gently. “It felt really good,” she replied, her voice cracking from the emotions and tears she had let out, each word tinged with a mix of vulnerability and relief.

Matt pulled his hand from her giving his fingers a lick. He moaned at the tatse of her juices. He was in pure awe. “You tatse so sweet baby.” He smiled down at her. “Here” he placed his hand to her mouth allowing her to suck one of his fingers. She was unsure of what to expect. She moaned at the taste. It was sweet like a rich honey. “That’s what you taste like” she sucked his finger clean releasing his finger with a pop sound. She looked at the boys, “what do you tatse like” nate smirked at her comment, “that’s for next time, todays about you and your pleasure”

Nate rose to his feet, striding purposefully toward her. Matt shifted away, returning to the chair he had occupied just an hour before, leaving the space between them charged with anticipation. Nate gently guided her body until she lay flat against the soft surface of the bed, adjusting her position to bring her closer to the edge. He sank to his knees on the plush carpet below, a sense of devotion evident in his posture. With careful hands, he lifted her legs and rested them on his shoulders, creating an intimate connection that spoke volumes without words.

Nate's hands glided up and down her thighs, the warmth of his touch sending shivers through her. He flashed a gentle smile that lit up his face, then leaned in to plant soft, lingering kisses along her skin, each one a tender caress. As he inched closer to the delicate inner part of her thighs, the air between them crackled with a mix of anticipation and intimacy, making the moment feel electric and alive.

“M’gonna take these off, okay?” he said softly, his voice laced with a gentle reassurance. With deliberate movements, he grasped the waistband of her shorts, slowly pulling them down in one smooth motion, revealing her underwear beneath. As he continued, he slid both the shorts and the fabric underneath down together, his touch careful and respectful, creating an atmosphere of trust and intimacy.

He gently grazed his fingers over her core, feeling the warmth radiating from her skin. In that moment, he couldn’t help but be in awe of her; she was stunning, perfectly sculpted in every way. A soft whine escaped her lips at his touch, the familiar warmth and wetness returning, intensifying the connection between them.

He slipped a finger through her folds, the slickness igniting a flutter in his heart that he couldn't ignore. He craved more, the desire overwhelming him. Wasting no time, he dove in, taking a bold lick that made her cry out in surprise and pleasure. Her legs instinctively clamped shut, trapping his head between her thighs, but that only fueled his determination to continue.

He kitten-licked her, savoring the sweet, intoxicating wetness that filled his senses. A deep groan escaped him as he gripped her thighs, his fingers sinking into her soft skin, pulling her closer as he lost himself in the moment.

“Oh g-god—” her breath hitched, caught off guard by the sensation of two mouths suddenly attaching to her. Matt and Chris sat across from her, their lips exploring her neck with a fervor that sent shivers down her spine. She hadn’t even noticed them move, completely enveloped in the unexpected pleasure that consumed her.

Matt bunched her shirt up, pulling it off her with a swift motion. They gazed at her bare chest, their eyes filled with a mix of admiration and mischief as they exchanged smirks. Wasting no time, Chris and Matt leaned in, their mouths eagerly sucking at her smooth skin, feeling her buds harden beneath their warm, teasing lips.

Nate was eating her like his last meal making sure to lap up every juice. He was so addicted to her taste. Her pure innocence was gone for sure. He was thrusting into the air being in so much pleasure himself. He was desperate to find some friction. She was shaking uncontrollably not knowing how much more she could take. Nate was eating her so well she was sobbing uncontrollably. She was sure she would be limp tomorrow. She whined as she was rolling her heat on his face feeling his nose brush against her.

Nicole let out a desperate scream as a wave of sensation coursed through her, tightening her stomach once more. The feeling of Chris and Matt’s mouths skillfully working on her chest, paired with the intoxicating pleasure of Nate’s tongue, sent her spiraling toward the edge. She felt as if she might explode from the overwhelming mix of sensations, each touch igniting a fire within her that she could barely contain.

She tangled her fingers in Nate’s hair, a desperate attempt to pull him away as her chest rose and fell rapidly with each breath. “I-I’m… I’m so—” Her words faltered as she felt her breath hitch, her gaze fixating on the liquid spilling out of her. In a frantic effort to close her legs, she felt Nate begin to softly pat her aroused heat. A loud scream escaped her lips, tears streaming down her face as the intensity of the moment overwhelmed her.

As Nate ceased his movements, she struggled to catch her breath, her chest heaving with each labored inhale. Matt and Chris pulled away, detaching their lips from her skin, their expressions a mix of satisfaction and exhaustion. They all sat up, breathless, the air thick with the remnants of their shared intensity, each of them trying to regain their composure in the aftermath of the overwhelming experience.

“Well… that was…” Matt began, his voice trailing off as he processed the sheer shock of the moment. Nate, with a playful grin, was licking the remains of juice that had spilled onto his face, savoring every drop. “I’d do that again,” he laughed, the sound light and carefree.

Nicole laid limply on her bed, a blissful smile gracing her lips. “You okay?” Chris asked gently, running his fingers through her hair, his touch soothing. She nodded softly, her heart still racing. “That was really nice,” she admitted, her smile widening. “Can we do that more often?” She glanced around at the group, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

They exchanged looks, a silent understanding passing between them. “Sure,” Matt replied softly, his hand caressing her cheek, a tender gesture that deepened the moment.

“I think it’s safe to say I really enjoy sex!” Nicole joked, a playful grin spreading across her face. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she sighed, clearly reveling in the lighthearted atmosphere.

﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡ ★ ﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡ ★ ﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡

A/n: wow.. this one was so intense!! lmk if u like the smut content, lowk enjoy writing it!!

[pix-writes]

Stanley Pines relationship HCs

(stan pines x reader), I hc Stanley to be dyslexic, yet another bit of writing about old guys getting to be freaky so 18+ below!

tho surprisingly fluffy at times, I just think this guy needs a good hug.

At first I think Stan would flirt with that rather brash confidence of his pick up artist/con man persona with you in the beginning, espeically turns to joking if you are choosing to riff/banter (whatever you want to call it) in response to his cheeky remarks. He likes to know he's met his match with a person who's not afraid to put him in his place!

But when he actually knows he's falling for someone then I think he would actually be more reserved, shy even, though it's not always outwardly obvious. If you are (or he thinks you are) talking to/got the hots for someone else he'll be even more withdrawn and gruff with you than he is usually.

I think that it's likely you get together after a series of awkward and/or funny scenarios/converations, like "What are you waiting for a kiss on the cheek?" "Yes, actually." "Can it, smartass!" ... ... "WAIT... What?!" "What?!!" 😳 type deal. Mabel has probably also caught on and is trying to put you in matchmaking situations.

Whilst both the stans are protective over their partners, Stanley is the more... possessive one, mostly in a good way: he wants to provide for you so that you're taken care of, he may not have much but he wants to know that you have less to worry about than him. Does NOT share, can enjoy showing you off and people looking but they can't touch!

He's lives a mostly independent life, so I can see him getting with someone equally (or more) independent and whilst that can reduce some of his worries, cause he knows you can look after yourself, he also still worries! 😅 and he wants to feel needed by a partner, so you might need to let him take the lead or do things/roles in your shared life for you, even if its just something mundane. Like, if you're shorter than him, he will do petty things like putting stuff out of your reach so you have to ask for his help (even if you try to do it for yourself will reach for it before you... Will also put a hand on your ass when he does it 😂).

Realises (subconsciously at least) that you help releive some of the burdens off of him as well. That said, definitely let him do everything for you when you go on dates (after the first one, where you put up a virtuous protest about paying for yourself), he's an old fashioned, almost-chivalric romantic at heart. He'd never admit to being sappy though and states that its simply 'the way to do things' or 'I'm just taking care of my girl'.

The rest of the Pines family realises when he's serious about you because that's when he won't spare on gifts for you. They don't have to be (and probably won't be) super expensive, he'll pick you up little things as well, a wilty bunch of discounted flowers from the store happens to appear sporadically yet often in the mystery shack, saying something a little flirty about how you can make them perk up (the sap!), and you can roll your eyes or quip back at him all you want but he sees how much you appreicate them, which makes up for the times he can be a bit more careless or in a grumpy mood.

Underneath all that confident persona is quite a bit of insecurity, that's not to say that all of his confidence is false, but he definitley has some old self worth/belief issues. Will often wonder what you're doing 'with an old man like him' (no matter if you're the same age or what) especially in the beginning of the relationship. The good thing is that he's susceptible to your compliments ;) and he's often stunned that someone he finds so beautiful is with him and will tell you at the most random times that he's a 'lucky guy' or that he's 'hit the jackpot', like you can be in bed in the rattiest stained t shirt, hair in rags, face mask on, haven't brushed your teeth, doing a crossword puzzle in bed, whatever, and he'll say something along those lines or about how beautiful you are to which you can either a) think he's joking and laugh/say something witty in return, or b) say "what even when I'm (insert something seen as unattractive here)?" Please know that he is SO serious when he says this.

The downside is that whilst stan has made leaps and bounds of improvements to taking care of himself, espeically when he knew the twins were coming for the summer and post-weirdmageddon (since he doesn't have to worry about the portal anymore), he still has a lot of filthy habits! He can be lazy and want to be in comfy clothes rather than a suit all the time, sure, that's fine, but what can really drive a partner crazy is the nail clippings on the floor or the hair clogged up drains in the bathroom and not cleaning up after himself properly! He honestly shouldn't be surprised that this is one of the things you can argue about regularly, old married couple style (he's been divorced enough times to learn this before and yet here you are! ^^')

Stanley Pines is Stubborn with a capital S and so there's some things he's not willing to change, but there will be some things he knows are important to you that he'll try to make progress towards, he'll also go towards taking even more care of himself in different ways, too, since he wants to spend the best amount of time that he can with you and his family.

Keeps photos of you dipper and mabel in his wallet. Considers the twins, wendy and Soos the kids you never had, so he's gotten over all the 'what could've beens' that used to make him sad before.

Will teach you some good boxing moves and punches for sure, even if you do know how to defend yourself. And takes you fishing and will teach you a bunch of practical things, if you ask him to show you he'll be over the moon!

Will preen so much when you praise him or acknowledge his achievements, actually was holding back tears when you said you were proud of him for getting his qualifications (after he spent so long without a HS degree/equivalent). Through working on the portal is SO smart, an equally skilled sailor and navigator etc etc as Ford, may not have the same methods of working stuff out as his brother but acutally knows a lot of disparate things, engineering, mechanics, physics, fishing, wierd loopholes in laws in different states and so on! Once weirdmageddon and the loss of memory has passed, Ford is genuinely touched by Stan's knowledge - a reminder of what he went through to get him back - as well as thrilled to speak to him on subjects that he never expected to share with his twin.

If he was asked whether he's a tits or ass man, he would say both, but honestly, he really loves thighs, I think he has a big attraction to curvy women in particular, but he would love his partner no matter what size/shape/gender (he's definitely bi, just more leaning towards hetero on the kinsey scale in my mind).

Stan is a menace when it comes to teasing, he's made an art form out of riling you up, loves when you get feisty with him. If you're bratty and push his buttons though, he'll give you time to run 🫠 will he give you a fair countdown or skip some of it? Depends on how generous he's feeling, so you better not stick around! Game for getting a little freaky, has a pair of handcuffs for this very reason, likes to be in charge but wouldn't mind being 'arrested' if it's by you 😉 (you can depend upon it that he knows how to escape them at any time though).

Total goof when he's relaxed, it's like being with a best friend, just be willing to get roasted on occasion (lovingly). You both watch ducktective and period dramas together, though he'll swear he's not into the latter - until he starts a running commentary on the plot.

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (1/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest but they were unaware children, kissing, the angst, stalking, woman on the rape pill, drug trade ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

When he needed to calm down before a meeting with clients or a brutal explanation of certain matters, he would lock himself in some room or his car, close his eyes and return with his thoughts to that summer holiday.

First he would always hear the sound of the sea, and then he would see the beach and the setting sun all around him, somewhere in the distance hearing her laughter.

It was their first and last trip together, which had obviously been his father's idea. He thought it would be a good way to cool a bit of tension in the family and invited his daughter from his first marriage to join them at their summer residence along with her partner, Harwin Strong, her former bodyguard, and their children.

The locals called their house ‘King's Landing’, because in fact the building looked like some kind of modern palace, with a huge garden, a private beach access and a small harbour with their sailboats and scooters.

He had never wondered where his father got money to buy such a great mansion: he thought that he had earned it all and the others had not and that was why they were poor.

Neither he nor his brother were thrilled with the idea: they did not want to share their toys or rooms with the Strongs, which, although they usually stood empty, were sometimes used for playing. Despite their verbal expressions of displeasure, Rhaenyra arrived with her partner and children in a large black Mercedes, disturbing, in his mind, their peace and order.

For the first few days, he simply tried to pretend he hadn't seen them: he would go for solitary hikes along the beach, looking for treasures in the sand, thinking he envied Helaena, who instead of joining them decided to spend her holiday with her friend and could do whatever she wanted.

Their mother allowed them to swim in the sea as long as they didn't swim too far away from the shore, and the smallest children, namely Luke and his sister, wore plastic shoulder pads filled with air to make them float.

Every little thing that made him better than his brother or nephews made him feel superior, so when he noticed that he swam the best out of all five of them, he showed it off by diving underwater once in a while only to emerge somewhere much further away. Their sister was most impressed by this, asking him to teach her how to do it, but he paid no attention to her.

The little squealing girls did not interest him, but Jace's face full of displeasure did.

He grinned in a way that made the eldest Strong's lips pressed together into a thin line and saw him swimming towards him.

He was sure that Jace would just want to hit him or sub him, so he prepared to put up aggressive resistance if necessary, he surprised him completely, however, by pulling his shorts off his legs.

He laughed out loud as he threw himself after him, trying to snatch it from him, fruitlessly, Aegon seeing this, shouted:

"– c'mon, hand it to me! –" He called out and indeed, Jace did so, making his opportunity to retrieve his stolen clothes move away from him towards the shore with them and Luke who also laughed thinking, apparently, that it was a very funny joke.

"– stop it! –" Their sister squealed, being the only one to stay in the water with him.

It was the first time he had felt so humiliated, frightened and lonely – although Aegon often teased him, this time it was something completely different.

His older brother came ashore, waving his shorts.

"Come and get them!" He laughed, throwing them somewhere far out on the sand so that he would have to run naked many metres before he could even reach them. His niece looked up at him, her cheeks red with embarrassment.

"– wait – wait, I'll get them for you in a minute –" She called out, moving towards the shore, getting out of the water at last and running across the sand – Aegon, Jace and Luke watched her efforts from afar, laughing loudly.

As much as he didn't want to, as much as he tried to stop himself, he burst out into a loud sob, ashamed, sad and bitter, standing in water up to his waist and not moving from his place, wanting to just drown and die.

He finally heard a splash – his niece was swimming towards him with his clothes in her hand, reaching out to him. He snatched his shorts from her in an aggressive, furious motion, whooping with his tears.

"– if you tell anyone about this –" He hissed.

"– no – no, please don't cry –"

"– fuck off –" He growled, pushing her away for some reason, furious that she had seen his outburst of despair, the fact that he was crying like a little girl.

He put his shorts back on and stepped out of the water, heading immediately towards home, paying no attention to Aegon's screams for him to come back, for them to go riding their bikes together, that it was just a joke.

He spent the rest of the day in his room reading history books. He liked to imagine that he was someone else: a great scientist, explorer, king, prince or knight. As he read stories about the great, terrifying dragon Vhagar, he thought he would like to have such a creature for himself, so that he could burn his brother and his nephews.

He answered his mother's questions about what had happened in a perfunctory manner – he knew his brother would take revenge on him if he said too much and he didn't feel like causing any more trouble.

He shuddered at night, roused from a deep sleep when he heard someone's steps in the corridor.

He feared it was them, that they were once again trying to make a mockery of him.

He rose up on his arms, terrified, when the door to his room opened with a loud creak.

"– Aemond? –" He heard her quiet mumble, even barely able to see her silhouette in the darkness he could tell she was crying.

"– can I sleep with you? –"

"– you must be crazy –" He hissed.

His reply made her draw in air loudly, whooping apparently with her own tears.

"– they took away my little lamp – Jace said I'm already big and I can't sleep with the light on – but I'm so scared –" She babbled in despair, as if this was the worst day of her life and there were big monsters lurking in the shadows of the room she slept in ready to devour her.

For some reason, what she said made him feel a sting in his heart and sympathy, through which he shifted to the side, sighing heavily, making room beside him.

"– okay, just be quiet already – come here –" He muttered, and she breathed a loud sigh of relief, closing the door behind her.

She surprised him by climbing onto his bed and immediately covering herself with his duvet, breathing loudly as if she was really scared.

"– thank you –"

"– sleep –" He commanded, turning his back to her. "– you are to disappear tomorrow morning – if anyone sees you, I will kill you with my own hands – do you understand? –"

"– yes –" She mumbled out with difficulty.

He heard her turn on her other side, but he could still feel the warmth of her body – his bed designed for one person for two proved a tad too cramped and there was no way their shoulders wouldn't touch.

Although he felt ashamed that he had slept with a girl, on the other hand her presence had a calming effect on him – the conviction that someone was beside him, her warmth and her scent, reminding him of vanilla pudding or cake, made him fall into a deep, peaceful sleep.

When he woke up, to his relief, she was gone, nor had she told anyone that she had come to him.

What surprised him was that she came to him the next night and jumped into his bed as if it was hers.

"– what are you doing? –" He muttered, looking at her in shock, his favourite book about dragons in his hands.

"– I'm going to bed –"

"– you've got to be joking – go to your place –"

"– I don't have a lamp –"

"– I'll give you mine –"

"– no – this one is too big – for me to sleep it has to be small or someone has to sleep next to me – I swear I'll disappear tomorrow morning –" She mumbled, seeing him tilt his head back, closing his eyes in impatience.

"– I don't want you in my room –" He said finally. "– neither you nor your brothers – I'd rather you never came here –"

It was only when he heard how the words sounded that he thought he had exaggerated, however, he could no longer take it back – he heard her draw in a breath, her cheeks red with sadness, her eyes glazed with tears. She burst out crying, pulled herself up from her seat and ran out of his room.

He thought, returning to his reading, trying to drown out the discomfort in his stomach and the tightness in his throat with the thought that at least she and everyone else would give him a break.

He tried to focus on what he was reading, but then his thoughts returned again to her, alone, in the darkness that had so frightened her.

He remembered Aegon scaring him that there was a great one-eyed monster living in his wardrobe that would come out of there and eat him if he closed his eyes even for a moment.

He cried from exhaustion and didn't sleep for several nights until his mother, when she found out he had fallen asleep in class at school, explained to him that it had been a simple lie.

He thought with shame that she was just a child who was being bullied by them as much as he was, and although he was angry, he decided he would go and see if she had fallen asleep.

Perhaps she was being too dramatic?

He got up quietly from his bed and went out into the corridor, walking slowly to her room, which was next to his. He opened the door and looked inside, noticing to his surprise that her bed was empty; he could, however, hear her raspy, heavy breath.

He stepped inside, looking around the moonlit room, approaching her bed hearing her breathing more and more clearly. He knelt down, bending over and only then did he see, horrified, her silhouette lying on the floor under the wooden frame, her eyes clenched shut, her plump cheeks red from tears.

"– please, don't eat me –" She squealed out.

"– it's me – hey –" He whispered, touching her hand, and she screamed and slammed her head on the bed above her. She cried out loudly in pain, clutching at the spot, and he hushed her by stroking her back.

"– come here – I'm afraid of monsters too –" He whispered, and she, at his words, crawled to him and cuddled into him as if he were a teddy bear, clenching her hands into fists on his back, crying miserably.

He took her into his arms, letting her throw her arms around his neck – when he stood up with her he thought she was unusually light. He laid her down on the bed and slipped under the duvet right beside her, letting her small hands embrace his waist, her face snuggled against his chest.

Only then did he feel her whole body shake.

His hand stroked her hair until she calmed down and they both finally fell asleep in a tender, close embrace.

For the next few days when she came to him, he let her lay her head on his shoulder and read a book with him, which he kept resting on his stomach. They didn't talk then, focused on reading, his cheek resting against the top of her head.

"– can I turn the page? –" He asked, wanting to know if she had managed to read everything.

"– yes –"

She really liked the character of one of the princesses. It was another volume of the story of The Mighty Vhagar and she was the beloved of the Prince who had managed to tame this terrible dragoness. Rhaenys, for that was the heroine's name, also had her own dragon, but a much smaller one, and together with the Prince she flew in the skies.

"I wish I had a dragon like Rhaenys." She confessed to him at last, and he grunted, agreeing with her deep down, not wanting to admit it, however.

The more he got to know her, the more her presence ceased to irritate him: what he liked about her was that she respected his barrier rules. She knew that he liked silence and also that he hated it when someone rearranged or took his things. They sometimes discussed books while sitting on the terrace or walking on the beach pretending to be treasure hunters.

"Kiss your girlfriend!" Laughed Aegon, looking at them from afar, making them both turn scarlet with shame.

His words, however, made him experience a daze.

She was, in fact, a girl, on top of which, in his eyes, she was extremely pretty – her large, bright eyes were framed by beautiful dark eyelashes and eyebrows, her wide smile sweet and comforting. Her voice and touch were also pleasant, tender, her body warm as she snuggled into him at night, seeking refuge in his arms.

He thought he'd never met a girl he liked and fancied, and envied Aegon that he'd already kissed a few of his female friends at school.

"Have you ever had a boyfriend?" He asked her one day, walking along the beach with her, kicking various stones along the way. His niece lifted her surprised gaze to him, distracted from browsing through the white seashells she had found and wanted to take home with her.

"No. And you?" She asked curiously.

It was easier for him to tell the truth knowing that she had never had anyone either.

"No." He muttered.

They were silent for a long time, walking side by side, thoughtful.

He wondered where he was actually going with this question, his heart pounding like mad.

"And would you like to have one? A boyfriend, I mean." He asked quickly, feeling himself turn red with embarrassment – he was unable to look at her, afraid of her reaction, so he just looked around pretending to be intrigued by something.

"Well. It depends if I would like him." She replied softly.

He swallowed hard at her words.

"Do you like me?" He asked. He heard her quiet giggle beside him.

"Yes."

"So?" He continued, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, meeting her curious, bright gaze.

"What are you asking?" She asked, cocking her head, a wide smile on her face.

He was unable to get the words out.

"I can be your girlfriend, but that will mean I get to hold your hand sometimes or give you a kiss." She said finally making his heart stop in his throat.

"…but only when we're alone." He said.

"Alright." She replied lightly, undaunted, returning to looking through her shells.

He struggled to hold back a smile, feeling hot in his stomach, thinking with relief that it was simple enough and he felt satisfied.

He had a girlfriend.

For the rest of the day they pretended nothing had happened, talking to each other in passing.

What he was looking forward to was the night and the warmth of her body against his.

Indeed, she came to his room as usual as soon as she made sure everyone was already asleep and jumped into his bed making his heart beat harder. He turned off the lamp even though they were usually still both reading together, laying his head next to her on the pillow, startling her.

"– are we going to sleep already? –" She asked quietly and he nodded.

She blinked when his hand rose slowly and tentatively touched her cheek. He swallowed hard, feeling how pleasant, soft and warm her skin felt under his fingers, even in the darkness he knew she was blushing.

He pressed his forehead against hers feeling their breaths quicken, not knowing how to express what he wanted so as not to frighten her at the same time. He leaned in slightly, stroking her face with his thumb, his fingers running over her neck making her breathless.

"– may I? –" He mumbled and she nodded quickly, her fingers running over his jaw making him feel the heat rippling through his stomach, his heart pounding like crazy in his chest.

He enclosed her cheek in his palm when his lips finally pressed against hers – he was surprised by how soft, fleshy and moist they were. He pulled away from her immediately with a quiet click and grunted, twisting in his place, closing his eyes, feeling like he was about to have a heart attack from excitement.

"– sleep –" He commanded, feeling that it was too much emotions for one time. His niece answered nothing, snuggling up to him as she did every night, and he put his arms around her.

It was his first kiss with his first girlfriend.

He felt grown up, fulfilled and happy.

They spent the next few days on various expeditions, pretending that they were great explorers of scary temples looking for treasures or great tombs of old kings. They did nothing out of the ordinary apart from the occasional quick, embarrassing kiss on the lips or cheek, however, to his surprise his affection towards her grew each day.

He realised that he genuinely liked her.

She shared his passion, she was excited with him about their finds, which were most often old coins, she helped him come up with their new missions and, above all, she didn't laugh at him, but with him.

Her words, though child-like, were full of understanding and empathy, her commitment and fearless nature made her his indispensable companion, and part of him thought with relief that it would stay that way forever.

That he found his haven.

However, their closeness began to frustrate Aegon, who finally pushed him to the wall.

"Why do you keep running after her? Are you kissing her or something?" His brother asked mockingly, and he felt satisfaction at the thought of how he could answer him.

"Maybe." He replied.

Aegon looked at him in disbelief and furrowed his brows in consternation.

"WHAT? Have you gone mad? It's your niece! That's disgusting and on top of that, illegal! You can't kiss your own family!" He said making his heart stop, cold sweat running down his back.

"– after all, she is not my sister –"

"– but you are her uncle! – do you know what our mother would do to you if she found out? – you're a complete moron –"

"– I was only joking – I wanted to annoy you –" He lied quickly, feeling a wave of shame, sadness and horror run down his spine.

That day he turned on his computer quickly and, although the internet was still running very slowly at the time, he managed to read in the Online Encyclopedia that what he had done was called incest and was considered a socially unacceptable perversion, although some countries allowed marriage between an uncle and a niece or cousin.

It didn't change the fact that he burst into loud sobs, feeling like a fool, regretting everything he had done to her, that he had ever met her, that he had ridiculed himself again because of her.

"– I'm breaking up with you –" He told her the same day, making her eyes widen in disbelief and fear.

"– but –"

"– you're my niece – you can't be my girlfriend – sleep with your brother or your mum tonight –"

It seemed to him that what he said had completely broken her, because instead of saying anything, tear after tear began to run down her cheeks. She wiped them away with her hands, trying to calm herself, but they continued to flow.

He felt some natural urge to embrace her, his heart squeezed at the sight of her suffering, but there was nothing he could do about it.

They were not meant for each other.

Wanting to somehow soften his words and what he had done to her, he wrote her his phone number on a piece of paper and slipped it under her door that very evening, so that she could contact him if something bad happened, but she could call only in a life-threatening emergency.

He didn't want anyone to catch him talking to her, much less Aegon.

He thought their brief relationship and break-up would be the worst and most heartbreaking thing to happen to him on this holiday, but it wasn't.

Fueled by rage and aggression that he had no way to deal with, he threw himself at Jace as he started laughing at him, pounding him with his fists, and Luke, wanting to defend his older brother, hit his head with a glass bottle lying on the sand, which smashed into his face.

It turned out that one of the shards damaged his eye, while the other cut the left part of his face.

They all started screaming, which their parents heard – Alicent, panicked, called an ambulance, while Rhaenyra packed up, took her children and left.

The doctors, to his mother's despair, said that an operation had to be performed immediately and that the eye would have to be removed: he remembered very little of this period, not speaking or looking at anyone at the time, as if something in his mind had switched off and he had lost touch with reality.

He thought only about her.

About his Rheanys.

He opened his eyes, returning with his mind to his car – he glanced at the blue-lit display and saw that it was approaching two o'clock in the morning.

They'll be here soon, he thought.

He stepped outside, closing the car door behind him, pulling a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket of his leather jacket. He took one out and slipped it into his mouth, leaning over the bright, warm flame, the tip of it turning red. He took a drag, closing his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the smoke out through his nose.

Indeed, it wasn't even a few minutes before he heard the screech of tyres – several black cars drove into the square, blinding him with their long lights.

Turn it the fuck off, he thought, covering his face with his hand, taking another drag.

He heard men start to come out of the cars – most of them were tipsy dudes just doing security, however Jason Lannister, who was supposed to hand him part of the money for the contract, was their opposite.

He looked like a hipster in his jumper, with his blonde hair pulled back and beard, a suitcase in his hand.

"As much as I agreed with your grandfather. Next part in two weeks." He said.

"Open it." He ordered, blowing out smoke through his mouth, looking at him with a grin, from which Jason swallowed loudly.

Lannister pulled a key from his trouser pocket and opened the suitcase, presenting him with elegantly stacked, sorted thick files of money.

He nodded and hummed under his breath, satisfied, going around his car, opening his boot. He pulled out a fake bottom made especially for the police, underneath which was a bag containing several kilos of white powder that Jason sold through his club.

They exchanged bags and shook hands, parting without a word, not wanting to tempt fate.

He smoked his cigarette to the end and trampled the butt with his shoe, climbed into his car and started the engine, eager to get back to his flat and sleep for at least a few hours. He set off ahead with a squeal of tyres, driving out of the harbour onto one of the main streets, a complete blank in his mind.

He felt nothing.

Or at least he thought he did, until her name showed up on his dashboard display remotely connected to his phone, the sound around him indicating that she was calling him made him freeze.

Over the years she had texted him, describing her days, asking how he was doing, wishing him a happy birthday, but he had never written her back, thinking it was pointless.

He only associated her with what he could not have and what happened next.

However, the fact that she called was exceptional.

Call only in a life-threatening emergency.

FUCK.

He wanted to pretend he hadn't seen it, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to live with what he'd done if it turned out the next day that her dead body had been found somewhere in the woods.

His trembling hand rose to the button on the screen with the handset symbol on it – he swallowed hard when his finger touched it and there was silence.

"– Aemond? –" He heard her trembling, breaking voice, his heart pounding like mad – he thought in disbelief that she sounded familiar and foreign at the same time.

"– what is it? –" He asked dryly, feeling the cold sweat run down his back as he tried to focus on the road.

She was probably just drunk and desperate, he consoled himself.

"– G-God – they must have – they must have put something into my drink –" She mumbled with difficulty between sobs, her breath heavy and ragged – he felt his heart stop, his hands involuntarily tightening on his steering wheel.

"– what? – fuck – where are you? –"

All he heard for a moment was her shallow breathing and crying, saw with his eyes her face then when he told her they couldn't be together.

"– Rhaenys – focus – fucking speak to me –"

"– I – mmm – I don't know – I think... – ...I think I'm in the toilet –" She muttered, apparently losing touch with reality.

"– in what toilet? – in the club? –" He asked desperately, running his hand over his mouth and jaw, thinking with horror that someone might be about to rape her.

"– yes – in the... – ...club – like... – ...one... – ...with palm trees –" She mumbled, and he drew in the air loudly, knowing what she was talking about.

"– Heavenly Beach? –" He asked, turning on his indicator, making a U-turn even though he should have done it at the next crossroads, several cars started honking at him, braking with a screech to avoid hitting him.

"– Rhaenys? – FUCK! –" He shouted, no longer hearing her voice, slapping his hands on the steering wheel, feeling tears burning under his eyelids for the first time in years.

He felt like he was in a panic, only realising after a moment that he was breathing loudly through his mouth.

He had broken many traffic regulations to get to this place as quickly as possible.

The security guards knew him and let him in outside the huge queue, to the fury of the others waiting – he ran quickly down the stairs, hitting several guests on the way who shouted after him to be careful, the loud electric music completely deafening him.

He wondered, what was she doing here?

Walking through the flickering lights and darkness, he headed straight for the toilets, going inside with a loud slam of the door. Several of the girls inside squealed, horrified by the presence of a man in the women's washroom.

"Get the fuck out!" Shouted one of them, stepping in his way, but he pushed her away. The girl fell over and whimpered, her friend, as drunk as she was, began calling him names, threatening to call security.

"RHAENYS!" He called out, opening one cubicle after another until he came across a closed door from behind which no sound came. When hit it with his foot it opened with a loud clatter and then he saw her: she was lying on the tiles sunken in deep sleep, unconscious, her phone by her face.

Looking at her, he remembered with shame that he knew perfectly well what she looked like, because he stalked her Instagram and Facebook accounts almost every evening: at first he just wanted to mock her and her life, then, however, it helped him control which boys she was seeing.

He destroyed his first phone by throwing it against a wall when he saw a picture of her in the arms of some guy when she was in high school, his rage caused by the fact that she was able to move on and he was stuck, still with his mind in that summer.

He knew she had studied archaeology because she sometimes posted photos from excavations, showing unusual finds. He couldn't bear it when he saw a picture of her sitting next to a boy who was putting his arm around her waist, surely going to university with her.

Robb, because it turned out that was his name when he traced his profile through her friends, liked to have a good time: he'd gone a few times to clubs he'd visited, wanting to look at him from afar.

He watched him chat up strange women and, although nothing happened between them, he came to a certain conclusion.

He didn't trust him.

He didn't like him.

That's why he took a picture of him with a woman, who he put his arm around exactly as it was then, in their picture, and then asked the owner of the club, who was buying drugs from them, to post the picture on their official Facebook.

They often uploaded photos from parties, so this was nothing unusual, and the feeling of satisfaction he experienced when he saw that after a few days she had deleted all their photos together was indescribable.

He consoled himself with the thought that it wasn't because he was jealous, but because he wanted to protect her, like the good, caring uncle he had never been.

And now she, the girl he saw every day on his phone screen lay unconscious in the stinky toilet where others came to fuck and snort cocaine, vulnerable and helpless.

"– hey – hey, wake up, kid –" He muttered, trying to lift her up, tapping his palm against her cheek to revive her, with no effect.

She didn't even flinch.

He grabbed her under her hips and lifted her up, rising from his knees with her, walking out of the toilet, the two drunk girls led them away with eyes full of disbelief.

As he walked with her through the club he noticed two men standing at the bar watching him closely – they turned away, pretending to talk to each other when they met his gaze.

Were they the ones lurking for her?

Were they the ones hoping to have fun with her that night?

He felt disgust and rage at the thought, for although he didn't get into any deeper relationships, he only took from women as much as they were willing to give him.

Sex allowed him to vent and not go crazy, but no relationship was an option.

He didn't want any new girlfriends.

With one hand holding her under her buttocks, he slipped the other into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out the keys to his car, opening it remotely. He opened the passenger side door and settled her into the seat, fastening her seatbelt. She mumbled something that sounded like no, clearly thinking he was the one who had done this to her.

"– easy – I'll take you home –"

He hated Rhaenyra's new husband wholeheartedly, as he was their biggest rival when it came to drug deals, however, he had no choice: after Harwin was shot, his older sister quickly found comfort in the arms of another man who was far more dangerous.

Perhaps that was what attracted him to her.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye at his niece's silhouette plunged into sleep, tense, her body completely numb, her bowed head leaning against the window.

He placed his hand on her palm, clamping his fingers on her skin, his throat squeezed at the thought that he felt exactly like then, when he had found her curled up under the bed.

"– you were right to be afraid of sleeping in the dark – you don't even know how many real monsters lurk in its shadows –" He whispered – her body shuddered, but she didn't wake, her fingers tightening on his.

"– uncle –" She mumbled.

He pressed his lips together feeling a single, heavy, warm tear of sorrow run down his cheek at the thought that she was able to recognise his voice after so many years.

He parked in front of Daemon's house and lowered his window, pressing the button to wake up whichever bodyguard was there. He heard a moment later that someone had in fact appeared under the other side.

"– do you know what fucking time it is, man? –"

"– someone gave Daemon's daughter, and my niece, a rape pill – I brought her –" He said dispassionately, his free hand still clenched on hers.

"– oh fuck –" The man mumbled, and the gate in front of him immediately opened.

He pulled into the driveway and parked at the very entrance, Rhaenyra in only a bathrobe, apparently awakened from a deep sleep, walked out of the house with Daemon running up to his car. He turned off the engine and stepped outside, closing the door.

"– what happened? – how did you find her? –" She asked terrified and pale, looking at him in disbelief.

"– Heavenly Beach – she called me – she barely spoke –" He replied coldly, opening the passenger side door. Her mother immediately leaned over her, gently patting her cheeks.

"– my love? – good God –" She mumbled, stroking her hair and shoulders as if she were a small child.

"– what was she doing there? –" He asked Daemon. Rhaenyra's husband threw him a long, frustrated look.

"– she said she would be staying the night with a friend – I am as surprised as you are –" He replied impatiently, taking his niece in his arms exactly as he had before, heading home with her, her face sunken into a deep sleep lying on his shoulder.

He shuddered when Rhaenyra touched his arm, looking at him uncertainly.

"– would you like a cup of tea? – you can stay the night with us –"

After you ran away without a word of apology when your son ruined my life, you stupid whore?

"– no –" He said immediately, turning around and heading for the driver's side door, getting inside his car without bestowing another glance on her. He started the engine and began to back up, turning around, driving out through the gate back onto the dirt road.

By the time he returned to his flat it was morning, but he did not feel tired or sleepy. He was attacked immediately by the paws of a large brown dog – Vhagar, his gift of comfort after losing his eye, looked at him with big eyes and barked with rage that he had left her alone for so long.

"I know. I know. I've had a rough night." He hummed, stroking her head. His dog grumbled for another moment, whining and howling, until she gave up, returning to her sleeping place.

He pulled off his jacket and boots, lay down on his bed and unlocked his phone, going into his messages, clicking on the icon that said Rhaenys.

He scrolled through her messages, imagining as he did so that she was lying right next to him, that everything he had read she had just whispered in his ear, embracing him tenderly as she had then, that summer.

He didn't write her back because he didn't know what he should say.

He was ashamed to admit that if it hadn't been for Aegon, this would probably have gone on for a while until their parents found out and they would be completely humiliated.

He was ashamed to admit that his most beautiful childhood memory was both something disgusting and shameful, something that some part of him wanted to forget.

He was ashamed to admit that his grandfather had told him that he could forget about the University, because once you enter this world, you stay there forever.

He was ashamed to admit that he felt that it had always been too late for him, that there was no moment in his life when he could change something.

He fell asleep in the end and didn't wake up for several hours, tired and shaken; he shuddered when he heard his phone ring and reached for it quickly, thinking it might have been her again.

He swallowed hard, disappointed when he saw it was his grandfather and answered reluctantly, closing his eyes.

"Did everything go according to plan?" He asked.

"Yes."

"What were you doing in Heavenly Beach?"

He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling, feeling his heart begin to pound like mad.

Lie or tell the truth?

"Rhaenyra's daughter called me. Someone put a rape pill into her drink."

Silence answered him for a moment, from which he felt a discomfort in his stomach.

"Aemond –" His grandfather began. "– this is the last time you interfere in their affairs. Do you understand?"

He looked ahead, biting his lower lip so hard that he felt the taste of his own blood on his tongue, his throat squeezed so tightly that he felt like he had stopped breathing.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes."

[imaginaryf1shots]

Anxious | Lando Norris

WC: 1K

Lando x reader

Summery:(REQUESTED) You’re feeling anxious but lando is there to help you

Warning: Anxiety, a bit of self hate?

Masterlist

Lando Masterlist

You're a very shy person by nature, it was a wonder you and Lando were able to talk when your friends first introduced the two of you. Lando is awkward and sometimes shy, and you like to keep to yourself and very shy. But the two of you have managed to cross those awkward stages long ago, and have been dating for a couple of years. It's easy to say that you know each other so well now, especially since you moved in with Lando.

You help each other through the periods where you're stuck in your mind or where you're feeling down. Lando knows you so well that he can tell before you get into a depressive or an anxious episode, you start being withdrawn, you bite at your cuticles, you don't laugh at his jokes as loud, it's all in the little things. So when the signs start to pop up, he just hopes it's when he's not racing, so he can be there for you.

It's been a while since you felt like this, and like every time you have a period where you don’t feel anxious, you had hoped you won't have to go through this again. Lando is streaming, he's in the next room, and you're here in your shared bed, unable to get yourself to move, to get up, to open the curtains, or to just eat. You want to spend as much time with your boyfriend as you can, even if you go with him to races it's not like you're by his side the whole weekend. You're basically going with your boyfriend to work.

Your mind is raging like a storm, your thoughts are jumbled and are everywhere, tossing and turning. There's this sense of unease that just hangs heavy in the air, filling your lungs. Every breath you take doesn't feel satisfying, like no matter how much air you suck in, it's just not enough. All the what-ifs are making it hard for you to focus on anything.

You debate texting Lando, but he's been by your side the whole day and it's barely been an hour since he started the stream. Your phone is opened beside you to the chat between you and Lando, the brightness is dimmed, but it's the only source of light in the room.

How are you baby?

Do you want me to end the stream?

You barely look at the phone as your mind thinks about all the reasons lendo will leave you, how tired of you he must be and how much he hates taking care of you and you're like a kid always needing his help. Why is he keeping you around? There's nothing good about you? Maybe you should just-

"Hey, love." Lando's soft voice fills the room, you have no idea when he came in, you hadn't heard him. Lando gets on the bed. "Oh, love."

You also have no idea when you started crying, but Lando is wiping your tears away, meeting his eyes makes you cry more, Lando gently manoeuvres you so you're in his lap and he's holding you. He just holds you, and you let yourself cry. You sit there for god knows how long, Lando rocks you to the side as he shushes you, pressing small kisses to your temple.

"Do you maybe want to go sit in the living room?" Lando asked and you shake your head.

"N-no."

"It's alright, just wanted to make sure." Lando reassured you not wanting to make you feel pressured or anything. "We can sit here as much as you need."

"I'm sorry." You mumble into Lando's neck, you're hiding from the world, from him, but not from your thoughts.

"Why?" Lando is confused

"Because you're stuck here with me, its your week off and you should spend it with your friends not be stuck here with me." You tell him, Lando tries to move you but you just hold onto him not wanting to see the look on his face, Lando relents, but if you looked at him the only thing you would've seen is love, care and worry.

"Love, believe me there's nothing else I'd rather be doing than spending time with you." Lando said, squeezing you a bit more. "Believe me I'd rather look at you than those muppets, you're the most important thing in my life, and I'm not stuck with you, I'm spending time with you."

"Still, I know you had plans for this break." Your mind is not that easy to satisfy when you're feeling this anxious.

"And they all revolve around you, so when you want to spend time in, then I'm spending my time in as well." Lando manages to make you look at him, and you don't fight him this time. "Tell me, love, isn't it you that takes care of me when I'm doubting myself and when I'm having a hard time?" You nod. "We both feel anxious sometimes, and we take care of each other, we're a team and I'll be there every time and I'll never be sick or tired of taking care of you."

"I still feel bad." You mutter and Lando gives you the smallest of smiles, he pecks your lips.

"Don't, I love taking care of you." You give him an uncertain smile, Lando moves you so you're straddling him, and just hugs you, you wrap your arms around his neck loosely and hold him. Taking a deep breath of his cologne, it's the same smell on the pillows. It's a comforting smell, the smell of home. Lando's hands run up and down your back in comfort and he feels you relax against him.

"Want to watch something?" Lando asked and you nod against him. "Cars?"

"You know me so well." Your voice is still not back to normal, but it's a step, you're feeling better and with the movie Lando is sure you'll feel even better.

You're both cuddling while the movie plays on the screen, Lando ordered food, and managed to get you to eat something.

"Lan."

"Yes, love."

"I love you so much."

"I love you too."

Lengo is smiling, like he does every time you tell him you love him, it makes him so happy and giddy hearing you say those words.

Your thoughts aren't calm, you're still feeling the effects of the anxiety but it's all calmer now, it's not as intense as before. Like there's a wall being built between you and those thoughts, and that wall is called Leads Norris

Taglist

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog

[gurugirl]

Owned

ceo sugar daddy!harry x reader - a check-in for The Arrangement

Summary: Based loosely on this request. Harry brings Y/n to his home and Romy returns at a very bad time.

A/n: This story takes place before Harry and Romy have split. A sort of back-in-time check-in from when Harry & Y/n are still keeping everything on the down low.

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, cheating, angst, spit/saliva, being overheard having sex

Word Count: 6,220

The Arrangement Masterlist

She was still getting used to the arrangement she had with Harry. Seeing him in the office Monday through Friday and needing to keep everything on the down low was difficult.

And when Romy came into the office that afternoon, Y/n caught sight of her with Harry in his office as he’d left the door open. Their discussion was heated, or at least it appeared that way. As Romy was leaving she gave Y/n a look that felt like she knew something. It felt like somehow Romy knew the secret and the look was a warning.

But of course, Y/n was just being paranoid. The only way for Romy to know was if Harry had told her and she knew he wouldn’t have done that. Romy was aware he was seeing someone for his needs. She just had no idea it was Y/n.

That was just one example of how things were difficult. Because she was no good at lying. No good at hiding the feelings on her face.

Harry noticed the faraway look on Y/n’s when he walked past her desk. She seemed to be deep in thought about something. Normally when he walked by he was the one trying to keep a straight face and Y/n was a shy little purring kitten hoping for him to glance at her just once.

“What’s wrong?” He leaned over her desk and looked down at her.

Y/n was struck out of her thoughts when she heard Harry’s quiet voice.

“Oh! I was just thinking about something. Nothing’s wrong,” she blinked her eyes and then bit her lip to keep her mouth from grinning as wide as she wanted.

He’d done some very inappropriate things to her in private that made her insides melt and her muscles ache for days and yet she still couldn’t get over how giddy she felt when he spoke to her in the office.

“You sure?”

She nodded, “Yeah. I’m sure, sir.” She nodded.

“This is cute,” Harry spoke quietly as he let his eyes travel over her outfit before looking back up to her.

Her ears got warm and her heart pounded wildly at the compliment. Of course, she was wearing something he’d bought her. She loved the soft silk and wool fabric and the fit of the Magda Butrym dress.

“Uh… thank you, Mr. Styles.”

She watched him walk off in a confident stride as she sighed.

A text came an hour later after Harry had finished up a meeting he’d been in.

You’ll come back to my place with me tonight.

She blinked her eyes and grinned at the words for a moment before responding.

Yes, sir.

.           .           .

She’d been to his house before but not like this. Harry told her that Romy was gone for the night and he wanted company from Y/n. But he also wanted to have her in the bed he shared with Romy, though he kept that part to himself. It was kind of a sick fantasy but Romy was more and more withdrawn and Harry couldn’t stop from imagining his sweet girl spread out and dripping all over his marital bed. Felt kind of like a satisfying fuck you to his wife who he was growing sick of looking at.

Harry started dinner right away and Y/n immediately got to work helping him chop and pull ingredients from the fridge.

“What have you been eating lately? Looking a bit thin, Y/n,” Harry said as he pinched her bottom, the silk dress bunching under his forefinger and thumb.

She giggled and then shrugged with a grin, “I don’t know. Pop tarts. Turkey bacon, you know the kind that’s already cooked? Umm… those frozen Schwan’s dinners, I like the veggie lasagna one. Bananas?”

Harry sighed and put his hands on the back of Y/n’s hips, standing behind her, “I’m gonna need to start feeding you properly too aren’t I?” He kissed her temple, “First you need me to dress you and pay all your bills, then you need me to fuck you properly, and now you need me to feed you all your meals too? My poor little helpless thing. Needs Daddy for everything doesn’t she?”

Y/n closed her eyes and stopped cutting the garlic as she felt Harry’s warm lips travel down from her temple to her cheekbone, and the bottom of her chin as she nodded, “I… I mean… I guess maybe. But…”

“Shh, shh…” Harry shushed her, “Don’t overthink, baby. I’m gonna take care of you.”

Y/n was squirmy when they sat at the dinner table to eat. Harry kept the conversation going as they ate but he could tell she was heated and starting to liquefy under his watchful gaze. He loved how pliant and open she got for him. He barely had to do a thing to get her squirming and needy for him.

When their plates were nearly emptied and Harry noticed Y/n’s blown-out pupils he chuckled lowly and got up from his seat, holding a hand out to her, “Up you get. Let’s take care of you. I can see you need me, baby.”

She didn’t know how he did it. No one had her like he did. She’d get shaky with excitement and need from nothing but a mere conversation with him. It was embarrassing. Pathetic. But she wouldn’t have it any other way. There was something about the way he looked at her. Like she was his dinner. His prey. Like he owned her. She loved it. She wanted to be owned by him.

Harry led her up to his bedroom and she went with him in silence. She wouldn’t protest about what she figured was coming once he closed the door and then began to unzip her dress from behind.

She liked the idea of doing it, there. In his bedroom. The one he shared with his wife. It made her feel powerful. Dirty, but powerful.

Harry kissed the top of her spine as he moved her hair to the side and her dress slid down her body and pooled onto the floor at her feet. She was already imagining the way his big cock would stretch her out and destroy her insides. She craved it.

“I like these too,” Harry spoke in a low seductive tone as he plucked at the lacy fabric of her panties.

She mewled at his touch and the way his lips found her neck. He was still standing behind her as he brought his hands up and cupped each breast in his palms. She’d gone sans a bra that day because the dress wouldn’t allow it. Maybe a bit risky for the office but Harry always told her not to worry about what others thought. If they were staring at her tits so hard they could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra that was on them and nothing to be ashamed of.

Suddenly he grabbed her hip and she felt the quick pop and then sting of his palm on her bottom. She gasped as he pushed her forward toward his bed, “Bend over.”

She did so quickly as she smushed her cheek into the mattress and felt the next swat to her other side. A few more spanks to each side as she bit her lip and moaned had him laughing darkly as he bent over her, “There we are. A good spanking for not feeding yourself properly.”

She was pulled up by her elbows and then turned to face him, “There’s that pretty face. Love this,” he put his thumb to the skin under her eye and wiped a tear that had broken free.

“Now, undress me.”

It was a normal part of their foreplay. Harry would have her undress him. Sometimes he’d keep most of his clothes on and just have his cock out so she could suck it or he could use it to fuck her, but most of the time he liked to be without clothes when it came down to it. Less messy that way.

Y/n began by unbuttoning his shirt and Harry watched her with a devilish smirk on his face. Once she’d gotten the last one undone he shrugged the material off himself and gestured for her to get to work on everything he had on below the waist.

Dropping to her knees she looked up at him and undid his belt then opened his pants up before pulling the nice fabric down his legs and to the floor. Harry kicked the pants off and watched as his girl pulled his briefs down slowly. He loved watching her face every time his cock was exposed to her.

She’d suck in a sharp breath and lick her lips and drag her pupils up and down his shaft and rove the deep pink tip with her gaze like he was a delicacy.

“You can kiss it if you want.”

She let out a sigh of relief and hastily ran her lips along his smooth skin and let her tongue lather him in saliva continuing to peek up at him as she went. He gently wound his fingers into her hair and began guiding her mouth downward toward his balls, “Kiss.”

With his cock hung heavy over her face and her hands politely in her lap, her lips pecked along his scrotum and she drooled over his sac as she closed her eyes. She worked her tongue on him slowly, making out with his balls as if she were kissing his lips and he groaned deeply. The girl was good. She was so good and he didn’t know what he was going to do with her. Romy could never give him what Y/n could.

Harry began to pant and Y/n grinned to herself as she kept smoothing her lips over his flesh, her pink tongue laving him with dampness.

“Fuck, little girl. That mouth is so good,” he pulled her hair to move her away from him. She wished she could stroke his cock and feel him in her hand but she knew she had to wait for his instruction to touch.

“Lie down on your back for me, ass at the edge of the bed,” Harry spoke as Y/n quickly stood and positioned herself at the edge of the bed per his instructions.

He pulled her little ruined panties down her legs and grinned at her, “A mess as always.”

Harry pushed her thighs toward her chest, knees pressing into her breasts when she felt the first flick of his tongue at the crease of her labia, just next to her pussy. Then to the other side, “Mmm… this cunt is never dry for me. Always such a treat,” the plunge of his fingers into her entrance had her moaning and grasping at the comforter tightly.

But when she felt his mouth finally slurping and kissing at her clit she whined loudly and let out a breathy wail. Harry laughed as he continued his task.

Long fingers pumping in and out and Harry’s skilled mouth pulling at her clit had her boiling and groaning. He kept her held down tight as she rocked her hips out of instinct. Her wet pussy being fingered and sucked was loud in the room.

“Daddy! Please!” She nearly shouted her words when he pulled his fingers from her and stood up with his cock in his palm.

“I’m just getting started with you sweet girl. Gonna fuck you and then we’re going clean up the kitchen, and then I’m gonna put that pretty leash on you. Maybe have your nipples clothes pinned while you wear a new gift I bought for your ass.”

“A new plug?”

Harry nodded, “Yes. I’ve been thinking about how pretty you’ll look in it all day long,” he thumped his wide cock over her pussy, “Can’t wait to put it in you and see what you think. But right now, you ready for Daddy’s cock, angel?”

She barely even nodded before he was pinning her to the bed with his cock stuffed to the hilt inside of her.

He let out a pitiful moan when he finally felt her on him. It’d been almost a week since he’d last fucked her and he could hardly wait to be inside of her. It was why he couldn’t be bothered to clean up the kitchen before he brought her to his bedroom. He needed to take care of her and himself before cleaning up. He needed her.

Keeping her knees pressed into her chest with his hands holding the insides of her knees down he dragged himself in and out, pressing into her until she was being rocked upward from the force.

She smiled in relief and moaned at each drive of his cock, “Yes, Daddy! Yes…”

“Like it when I fuck you, baby? Like my cock slipping inside you deep?”

“Fuck yes! I love your cock, Daddy!”

She was his good girl. There was no question about that. Loved being told what to do, what to wear, what to say, when to get wet, and loved being fucked by his big cock. Loved choking on it. Loved being gagged and tied up, stuffed with toys.

Harry just wanted to get them off quickly because he’d been so hard up for her all day it hurt. Imagining just this. His cock inside of her, spreading her out, watching her pussy grip him and slather him in her arousal.

The sound of a door closing and then Romy calling out for Harry had him halting the movement of his hips, “Fuck,” he whispered his words as his chest heaved.

He had to think quickly. Obviously, Romy would know someone was there with him. The kitchen was a mess and Y/n’s nice purse was on the entryway table. Even though he wasn’t allowed to bring his “girlfriend” to their home he’d have to deal with the consequences of that with Romy. But she couldn’t know it was Y/n because that would be a whole other can of worms he didn’t want to open.

“Up. We need to get you to the guest room. I can’t have Romy seeing you.”

Y/n quickly hopped off the bed and pulled her dress from the floor to cover her naked body as Harry led her to the hallway and pointed to the door at the end, “There. Go inside and close the door.”

He pulled his pants up his legs just as Romy was walking into the bedroom, “Who’s here?”

She looked around the room and saw the panties on the floor next to his boxers and the way the bed was mussed from what they’d just been doing. It was clear what was going on.

“It’s the woman. From the service,” he lied with a shrug, “I thought you were gonna be out. I didn’t mean for you to–“

“You cooked her dinner? And brought her to our bedroom, Harry? Where is she?”

“I had her go into the other room. I don’t think you should have any contact with her. That’s part of what we agreed.”

“Your dick is even still hard, Jesus. Were you two just…” She shook her head and paced into the room, “And yeah, that was the agreement but you’ve brought her into our home and that was something we said you wouldn’t do. She could walk off with something expensive for all you know!”

“She won’t. I’m sorry. It was just… She made a house call. It was easier this way.”

“I bet it was. Couldn’t even be bothered to clean up the kitchen.”

“I was going to get to it after. Why are you home anyway?” “I missed the train. The next one’s coming in an hour so I figured I’d come home and grab a few things I meant to bring for the trip but realized I forgot. So I’ll be home for a bit. You gonna have her leave?” Romy raised a brow at Harry.

He was a little surprised she wasn’t angrier. He couldn’t understand why she was so calm. Yes, she seemed upset but not as upset as he thought she’d be.

“No… we weren’t done.” Harry clenched his jaw. It felt strange talking to his wife about this. He kept his eyes on her as she looked down at his erection covered by his pants. He cleared his throat and continued, “Plus I don’t want her feeling embarrassed and leaving right in front of you. I’ll wait til you're gone before I send her home.”

Romy nodded and looked behind her at the door to their bedroom. “Is she in there? The guest room?”

“Yes. Will you be upset if I go in there with her while you’re here?”

She scoffed and shook her head as she walked past Harry toward their closet, “Clearly didn’t get yourself off yet. Typical that’s all you can think about in this very moment. I mean what can I say, Harry? It’s not like you listen to me anyway. You and your need to dominate every situation. Go and do whatever. You will anyway.”

And that was true. Harry wasn’t one to take no for an answer for most things.

Shrugging his shoulders he started for the door but before he passed into the hallway he turned, not wanting Romy to have the last word, “Might want to go downstairs if you’re not interested in hearing us,” he smirked and then left the room. But before he got far he heard her respond, “Oh great. Love to listen in on mediocre sex and a woman faking an orgasm for money.”

Harry swallowed as she paused. That had pissed him off. Why did she feel the need to insult whomever he was fucking? He decided to leave it and not respond, continuing down the hall and walking into the large guest room where his lover was waiting, locking the door behind him.

She’d already slid her dress back on. She was sitting at the edge of the bed with a worried look on her face.

“Hey,” he sat down next to her and pulled her into his chest, “It’s okay. She’s not gonna bother us. She’ll be gone soon. I’m sorry that happened.”

“It’s not your fault. Just scared me. I’m worried if she knows it’s me she’ll do something awful. I just don’t want any trouble.”

“You won’t have any trouble, baby. I’ll make sure of that.”

Harry began to pull at her dress, indicating he wanted it off. Y/n pulled back to look up at him, “What are you doing? Right now? With her here?”

Harry was unphased. Which wasn’t a surprise but Y/n thought for sure he’d wait until his wife left.

“She’s going to be here for another thirty minutes or so and I need you, bout to burst. Will it make you feel better if we’re quiet? Or would you rather wait?” His hands were bunching the material of her dress until her thighs were exposed. The way his warm palm and rings felt on her soft skin, slowly moving upward toward where she was still wet had her heart pounding.

“I… I don’t know. I want you to feel good but I don’t want any trouble.” She was torn. One part of her didn’t want to wait. She’d been on edge and he was so good inside of her, driving into her with the yummiest drag before they were interrupted. And she’d wet her dress with how much slick arousal she had stuck between her thighs, she was still reeling from his cock being inside of her not moments prior. But she didn’t want to do something that would hurt anyone’s feelings either.

“I told you there won’t be trouble. Do you trust me, Y/n?” Harry brought his large palm up to her neck and made her look up at him, his other hand gently slipping fingers through her labia.

“I trust you. Yes,” her puffy lips were parted as she kept her eyes on Harry’s. She loved how it felt when he had a hand around her neck but he was gentle in that moment. Using the gesture as a small reminder of his dominance over her. His ownership.

“Good girl,” he brought his lips down over hers as he pushed two fingers slowly inside of her aching cunt. “You’re my good girl aren’t you, Y/n?” Harry spoke against her lips as he began to fuck his long digits into her slowly.

She nodded, “Yes. I wanna be good for you.”

“I know you do,” he whispered as he continued kissing her between his words, “Let me take care of you. Be my good girl and pretend it’s just me and you. The only girl I care about right now is you.”

That’s what she wanted. To be a good girl for him. And if this is what made her a good girl, she’d forget Romy was in the house. To have his attention on her and not on Romy.

His lips were soft and his tongue pressed into hers as he released her neck and began to pull the dress down her arms until the top part was pooling at her waist and her tits were exposed.

Pushing her to lie down on her back, he kept his fingers inside of her as he dropped his mouth to a nipple causing her to gasp.

Harry grinned. He hoped she wouldn’t stay quiet. He wanted her little noises and hoped it irritated Romy. Hoped Romy could hear everything he was doing to Y/n. Things that he would never again to do his own wife. Was he bitter? Yes, perhaps. But he felt it was warranted. He didn’t like her insulting his sweet girl.

Harry looked down at Y/n with her silk dress bunched at her waist, her pussy and tits out as he fingered her and kneaded her tits.

When he felt he’d gotten her all worked up again, small moans and needy little glances, nearly begging him for more, he pulled his fingers from her and hastily removed his pants. He pushed her further into the bed and spread her legs apart, making her bend at the knees as he shifted between her legs.

“Please,” she whispered as she looked down at his hard cock in his hand.

“This is what you want? Yeah?” He positioned his thick crown to her entrance as she nodded.

“Needed Daddy’s cock so bad today, didn’t you, baby?” Harry spoke his words in stammered breaths as he began to push back into her where he belonged. The stress began to melt away the deeper he drove his cock.

Earlier in the day, when Romy had gone to the office, Harry didn’t even know she’d be there. He spotted her walking out of Sean’s office as he happened to be standing in the hallway talking to Jessica and spotted her.

He asked her what she was doing there, mostly just surprised to see her and her response was immediately defensive so he brought her to his office so they could discuss in private. She seemed angry with him and then told him she stopped by to remind him she was going out of town that evening with her sister. Something for which he did not need an in-person reminder.

He found the whole thing odd but most of all, her attitude had him heated. Their small spat in the office was overheard and he was stressed when she did finally leave. But he did have one bright spot through it all. His Y/n.

And having her underneath him as he strained his muscles and steadied himself above her while he gently fucked into her was exactly what he needed. It was just what she needed too.

Harry watched her pretty face contort and lips part and widen with each of his thrusts, “Fuck, baby. Who do you belong to?”

Her voice bubbled out softly, each word panted into the air, “Daddy… I’m yours, Daddy…” She wanted to hold onto him. Scratch her nails down his back and claim him for her own the way he always claimed her. She would never do it unless he told her but her fingertips dragged over the blanket imagining his skin under her nails.

Harry moaned and felt saliva pool on his tongue. His mouth was watering with how luscious she felt and the remnants of her arousal still in his mouth. He brought one hand to her jaw and squeezed her cheeks, “Open up wide sweet girl.”

Her mouth was already parted as she unhinged her jaw for him and jutted her pink tongue out for him.

Harry gathered his spit at the end of his tongue and opened his mouth, keeping his hips pasted to hers as he continued deeply thrusting into her. The wet drool from his tongue drizzled down into her mouth and over her tongue, slipping downward to her throat.

She closed her eyes and moaned loudly at the way it felt. She was his. He owned her. She would drink his come and his saliva happily forever if he wanted. Would crawl on her knees to him and let him spit into all her holes with a smile.

Harry watched as she kept her tongue out. Her eyes were squeezed closed and she began to quiver under him, “You’re mine, baby. My sweet girl. So dirty and so fucking hot. Swallow my spit into your tummy now. Show me you want to be mine.”

Her lips closed around the spit and she swallowed and licked her lips before opening her eyes up to see him looking down at her in awe. Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest. His cock inside of her, pushing deeper than he ever had, and the act of swallowing his saliva sealed it all for her. He wanted her for his own.

“I’m yours. I need to be yours forever. Are you mine too, Daddy?” She didn’t expect those words to come out but her heart and the hot, prickling lust in her belly had her speaking before she could even think.

Harry groaned and lowered his lips to hers. It was the most erotic and soft sex he’d had with Y/n yet. It made him feel like… he was in love. Made him realize, even more than he had before, that he wanted Y/n forever. Not just for a mistress and a fuck toy. But a human woman that he connected with on all levels and who matched his needs and desires in bed.

Disconnecting their wet lips he gasped at the way she clenched around him and pushed his nose to hers, “Fuck, my love. I’m yours. I belong to you just as much as you belong to me.”

Harry was trying to keep it down for Y/n’s sake. He knew she didn’t want Romy to hear what was happening in the bedroom. He would have preferred to have Romy hear it all. So she knew where she stood in comparison with his lover. Y/n was his girl. And he was sure he was falling in love with her.

“P…please can I touch your back? I want to feel you under my fingers…” she dared to ask because she couldn’t hold it back. She needed his skin under her hands and nails.

Harry grasped one of her hands and brought it up to his shoulder, “Fucking touch me all over baby. Go on…”

She felt his skin under her palm and brought her other hand up to feel his back. His broadness and the straining muscles in his back had her moaning loudly on accident but the moment she took the chance to dig her nails lightly into his skin and she heard him choke out a loud groan she knew that was permission for more. To leave traces of herself on his skin. A mark to show Romy who he really belonged.

And that thought had her rearranging her entire notion of having his wife overhear them. Now she wanted Romy to know. She felt possessive of him at that moment, her nails digging in harder and his groans growing louder with each inch she dragged her nails over his flesh.

“Just like that, Y/n, baby… Harder…” he was breathy and his words were tight. Harry couldn’t believe how it felt to have her nails on his skin. He hoped he bled and had deep marks left for days.

Suddenly a door slammed and Harry paused as he looked down at Y/n with a smirk, “Want you to scream my name when you come. Want her to hear the voice of one I belong to. Is that okay?” He rutted into her deeply and she moaned with a nod.

“Yes. I want her to hear now. And then she’ll see my marks on you. Because you’re mine, Daddy.”

Harry pressed his lips to hers and sucked in a breath through his nose to show his devotion and appreciation. The kiss was slow and wet as Harry kept himself stuffed into her, not moving an inch. He needed the moment to give his cock a break from the decadent feel of her pussy around him.

When he’d recovered enough that he knew he wouldn’t come immediately, he pushed himself up and looked into her eyes, “Shred my back up, Y/n. Want it to scar. Give it to me.”

She did as he said as he pulled out to his tip and slammed back into her, making the headboard pound into the wall loudly. With the feel of her nails digging into his skin, he repeated his motions, fucking into her hard but slow. Pulling out his heavy cock to his tip and driving into her with a thud.

Harry hissed at one particularly deep scratch and he sat up, feeling like that was sufficient, ready to hammer into her and make Y/n shout and yelp and come all while Romy listened.

“You ready, angel? Gonna fuck you so hard you see stars and squirt all over this bed.”

She dared to lift her fingers to his chest and scrape lightly as she nodded, “I need it so bad. I need you.”

Harry grinned and closed his eyes for a moment to feel her. To feel the emotions and the moment. Her fingers on his chest. But then he began to slip his cock back, pulling out completely. Looking down between them he placed his thumb on her clit and suddenly pummeled into her, repeated, punishing thrusts.

At first the voice was punched out of her throat with the way his hips hammered into hers. The sound in the room of his cock pushing into her pussy, his skin thudding into hers and the bed creaking wildly, the headboard smashing into the wall in time with his thrusts was the only noise.

Finally, she found her voice when they got into a rhythm, “Daddy! Yess!!” His thumb stroking her puffy clit sent her spiraling quickly. Her hips jolted and her back arched.

Harry watched her tits jiggle and her mouth and tongue move as curses and shouts of his name fell from her lungs. Her pretty voice and coos nearly had him tearing up but his cock was in heaven pounding into her pussy.

“Right there, baby? Yeah?” He gasped his words as she nodded. Her hands grasped the blankets tight as her body was being knocked upward with his devastating plunges.

“So good! Fuck! I want your come, Daddy! All inside of me. Fff….” Her neck strained as she tossed her head back. His thumb at her clit was sending her dangerously to the edge. And with the way his cock was punching into her she was going to squirt and she knew it. Only Harry could manipulate her body in this way.

“Oh shit… Fuck, baby…” Harry choked out his words as he saw her first gush and pulled his cock out so she could unleash.

Her body vibrated and she shouted loudly as she leaked and squirted. Tiny bits of spray coated his cock and his pubic hair and the bed below.

“Make it messy, baby. That’s right,” Harry continued flicking her clit as she trembled and loudly moaned unintelligible words of nonsense.

When she’d finally calmed Harry slammed back into her. He still needed to make her come. Squirting felt intense and yummy but coming was yummier, he knew.

“Squirted all over me baby. Claiming me with your scratches and your pretty pussy spraying me, huh? Gonna show my wife who I belong to?” His hips against hers were biting and he was so deep she felt him push into something new. A snap was felt inside of her and the intensity of the deepness of his cock had her spinning.

Harry was barely pulling out, only fucking into her now, holding her body to his as he rocked his hips into hers so deep.

“Yes! Only mine!” Was all she could manage to squeak out.

Even with Harry holding her close, the room was noisy with sex and the bed was unrelenting under them. And once Y/n had squirted and made a mess, the sloppy, gushy noises were even more evident. Everything was wet and slick and loud.

Harry was so close to coming. His balls tightened and Y/n’s eyes widened when her own orgasm began to finally unravel. Harry’s pelvis pushed into her clit with the constant motion of his hips rolling into hers.

“Open up again,” he could barely get his words out, “and ruin my back, baby.”

She opened her mouth and immediately ran her nails over his back. The pain of her scratching the spots she already had made Harry cough out a loud moan of praise, “Fucking good girl!”

He looked back down to her eyes with the sting on his back and the saliva dripping down into her mouth slowly.

It was perfection. The moment was bliss and euphoria as he breathed out his words, “Swallow and come.”

She had already begun to come the moment his saliva hit her tongue and her fingers dug into his skin. It felt like they were joined as one. She swallowed his saliva before moaning, “Harry! Oh my god!! I need you, Daddy!” Her words were a garbled shout, surely to be heard throughout the house.

Harry rattled off his devotion and praise to his girl as he drained his come into her, “My good fucking baby. I need you so much. Fuck! Making me come so hard. Gonna take my come like a good little girl…”

The slowing of their movements had the room going quiet until only their breaths and panting were heard. Harry dipped in to kiss Y/n slowly and softly. With meaning and heart.

She was still pulsing and he was still throbbing as they licked and kissed. One last deep thrust upward had her squealing and laughing as Harry pushed himself up to look down at his girl with delight.

A knock to the door interrupted the sweet moment. Harry rolled his eyes and sighed as he brought his hands up to cup Y/n’s face lovingly, thumbs stroking her soft skin, “What?” He shouted toward the door.

“Fucking asshole is what,” the knob rattled as if she were trying to open the door and Harry lifted up further to face the door. He had locked it but he wouldn’t put it past Romy to try and get in to make some kind of point.

“Get the fuck out of here. I don’t want you near here.” Harry barked toward the door, ready to pull the blankets up over his lover to protect her if needed.

“This is MY house, Harry! You have whore in MY house! I want her out!”

Harry scoffed and shook his head as he looked down at Y/n. His cock was still inside of her. This was his baby. His love. He smiled at her softly, reassuringly before turning toward the door again to respond to Romy, “Were you listening like a pathetic bitch? That’s what good sex sounds like. I’m not fucking sending her away because you’re jealous. Leave already!”

“Loser asshole!” Romy stomped off and down the stairs. They could both hear her leaving the house.

Harry let out a breath and grinned down at Y/n. She was already smiling up at him with a pleased look on her face. She wasn’t upset like he thought she might be.

“You okay, baby?”

“So good, Daddy. She knows your mine now.”

Harry nodded and laughed, rubbing the tip of his nose to hers, “I’m so yours baby. All yours.”

When he finally pulled himself out of her he tilted her hips upward and thumbed her entrance to watch his come drip slowly before planting his mouth over her cunt and slurping his come into his mouth.

Leaning over her body and hovering his face over hers she opened her mouth obediently and he drooled his come into her mouth.

He watched her tongue capture his seed and he smiled, “In your tummy and in your pussy. All mine. Swallow.”

She gulped him down and grinned, “All yours, Daddy.”

Harry’s grin only widened as he spoke, “Yeah? You’re all mine. And you fucking own me.”

Feedback/Thoughts | Support Me! | Main Masterlist

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

Tags: @michellekstyles @golden-hoax @a-strange-familiar @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @dirtytissuebox @closureesny @lhharrylilpumpkin @justlemmeadoreyou @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lllukulele @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff @gills-lounge @damnasstyles @malwtilda @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @0oolookitsme @babybunharry @anothermannharry @love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @kelly-fushiguro345 @harrys-foxy @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs @reveriehs @ithinkimaslutforharry @millie-753 @theekyliepage @harryspirate @kathb59 @madrc @giabbyespejo-blog @cherryluvhobi @lillefroe @gotthecinema

[gaypirate420]

Bath // Jasper W. Hale.

Jasper Whitlock-Hale x gender neutral!reader.

A/N: Thank you to @steh-lar-uh-nuhs for sharing these. Huge inspiration!

Summary: After the battle with the newborns, you give Jasper a bath to make him relax.

Fluff. A little suggestive. Reference to hypnosis?

The Cullen's make their way back home, everyone let out a sigh of relief and tiredness after such an encounter. Emmet collapses on the couch and Rosalie sits elegantly by his side, Alice makes her back to her room, her eyes unfocused as she sees different futures of what's to come. Carlisle and Esme just silently make their way to their room.

Although they're vampires who's bodies can't get tired, they are mentally exhausted. The tension hasn't faded but Jasper it's too tired to try and make them feel calm, which makes him feel worse because everyone's emotions are affecting his.

His right side it's burning with new bite marks that go from his shoulder to his forearm.

At least nobody else got hurt.

Well besides you.

The first signs that something was terribly wrong was when you had a trip to Seattle and returned as a vampire.

Jasper just remembers how scared you were, terrified of this new reality. He feels bad, you wanted to help with the battle but you're a newborn, still adapting, still learning.

He sighs, he basically locked you up in his room and he hates himself for it. At least you got your stuffed animals to keep you company and relive some of the anxiety you felt.

The blonde vampire opens the door and immediately meets you running to his arms. A smile creeps on his face as he picks you up and wraps you in a tight hug.

"Hi." You whisper, Jasper immediately notices the relief in your voice.

"Hello, darlin'." He buries his face on your neck, holding onto your scent and the comfort of your arms, it makes him forget about the venom that's running through his body.

"You smell like those dogs." You speak with a slight frown. Jasper chuckles and sniffs his hoodie, yeah, he does smell like wolves.

"How about we take a bath?" You asked with a flirty tone, pulling him by his wrist. The blonde smirks and follows behind.

"I see you've already settled in, sugar." He teases as he almost trips over one of your plushies. You giggled and pick up some things for the bath.

Jasper takes a glare of his room, it's mostly neutral colors, old photos and furniture. And then your things are a splash of color, a light of life.

Jasper rests on the wall, the pain of the venom stinging again. You looked at him worried as you fetch some towels.

"Are you alright, cowboy?" You placed a hand on his bitten arm, making him hiss in pain. You withdrawn your hand immediately.

"It's- n-nothin', hun. Just a couple of bites, nothin' I didn't expect." He explains softly, but the pain it's still on his voice. You nod, not fully convinced.

Jasper catches on the floral scent the bathroom holds now, you wave him to come inside, he smirks and takes his hoodie off.

"Stripping already?" You teased. The blonde chuckles and wraps his arms around your waist, locking his pale lips against yours. He holds the kiss, needing your touch after such an exhausting day.

He glares at your now ruby red eyes. He swore to protect you and the only day he didn't follow you somewhere you returned dead.

You kissed him again before your hands brush down his chest. Your touch is no longer warm but he feels like it is. Like the warmth you held never left you.

You pulled his shirt up, he didn't resist you at all. Your eyes widen at the sight of the bites. Jasper looks at his arm.

They look...like a normal bite would, if there's any normality in that, teeth buried deep and a horrible bruising surrounding it. Jasper sighs and closes his eyes, he feels your hand cupping his cheek.

"I'm alright, pumpkin." He tells you and kisses your forehead.

You help undress each other between giggles and teases. Jasper gets on the water, helping you to get inside.

The water it's warm, with one of your bath bombs fizzling and tinting the water pink. The scent of lavender lingers on the air and some candles were lit to make the setting more romantic.

His bathroom was very plain, white and clean, with the constant changing of home he doesn't really put much thought into decorations, but since you started dating your skincare and other stuff were lighting up his surroundings. Now his bath has all these candles, bath bombs and fancy soaps.

He sighs and makes himself comfortable. He feels your hands on his head, removing leaves and small sticks off his hair.

"Can I wash your hair, my dear?" You asked softly, Jasper nods and closes his eyes. He feels you pouring some water on his hair.

He holds your waist close to him, feeling your body, his fingers caressing up and down the curve of your back.

"I'm not going to break anymore, cowboy." You whisper as you notice his delicate touch, he doesn't change it.

He leans and kisses your lips, there's some neediness on his kiss but not desperation, he keeps it's slow and sensual.

You pour some shampoo on his golden locks, your fingers start massaging his scalp in gentle circles. Jasper moans softly, making you shiver, his lips travel down your jaw.

"You're too quiet." You whisper with clear worry, Jasper kisses down your neck, a gentle and loving kiss placed on the bite mark that lies on your neck.

"I know. I'm sorry. I just can't help thinking about- the past." He whispers against your skin, his hands holding you close and his lips kissing your shoulders.

"It's weird. I've been hurt so much before- but this is different." He keeps whispering as you massage his head.

"What do you mean?" You ask with a gentle whisper, Jasper takes a second before answering you.

"Everytime I got hurt. Bitten. I just had to...keep going. Keep fighting. Ignore the pain, ignore my emotions and discomfort." He speaks with a lingering anger, he holds you a little rougher.

"But here- with you- I can allow myself to feel. To process what's happening. I would- I used to take my mind somewhere. Think about something else, dissociate completely." He takes a deep breath. You only listen to him, feeling your heart break as he keeps talking about his past, you rinse the shampoo off.

He looks at his new marks. Your fingers caress his scars with a soft touch, making him smile, he kisses your forehead.

"I didn't had anyone to caress me. To kiss me. To hug me when I was feeling down. And definitely no one to prepare me a bath." He chuckles and locks lips once more with you. He meets your eyes and you can see this shine in his.

A glimmer of hope.

"Thank you, sugar. For everything. You brought me back to life." He smiles and kisses you again, cupping your jaw, you lean on his touch and deepen the kiss. Jasper's hands have a strong grip on your waist, not wanting to let you go.

He buries his face on your neck and takes deep breaths. Your fingers run through his hair, undoing the knots with conditioner. A smile on your face as you enjoy this tender movement.

His breath is even, he doesn't need to breath, but it feels so nice to take in your scent over and over. If he was human he would be passed out because he feels so relaxed, safe.

"I love you." You whispered as you did your best to not damage the curls of his hair you loved so much. Jasper's eyes flutter closed. Since you became a vampire you had this ability of just making him feel so relaxed, he thought you did wonders when you were human but now it's so...

"I think you might have a gift, darlin'." His words sound slurry, almost like a human who's falling asleep. You blinked at his statement.

"Oh. Well- we'll sort that on another day, let's just enjoy that today is over." You whispered, your voice holding that soothing sound of one of a professional hypnotist. He smirks, this it's going to be really interesting to figure out.

He closed his eyes once more and let you take care of him.

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

A/N: Hello! It's been a little while, I know, I'm sorry, and I'm not going to say I'm going to post more constantly because I'm back to school.

Also, if you want to request things with the reader having a hypnosis/mind control gift I wouldn't mind. I've been thinking a lot about it because I just like hypnosis. What can I say.

[brunchable]

LAZARUS SERUM || Steve Rogers x Enhanced!FReader [18+]

Part II

Part One | Part Three Words: 12.2K Themes: Angst, Drama, Violence (causing 1 death), Action (Fighting Scenes: With Steve and Tony), Hatred, Lovers to Enemies, Enemies to Lovers. Warning: Smut with The Winter Soldier. Choking, Spanking, Mild Degredation? Unprotected piv sex, hair-pulling, dirty-talking. Sneak Peak: “So,” you drawled, breaking the silence with a voice dripping in mockery, “The great Captain America finally graces me with his presence. I must say, I’m flattered. Though, I’m starting to think you only come around when your self-righteousness needs a little top-up.” A/N: The council has spoken and they said include the Bucky seggs scene. If you don't want to read that part, then just skip it? Let me know if you want to be tagged, yes? Thank you.

Tags: @needsleep3000 @vicmc624 @i-can-do-this-all-dayy @mrs-jjmaybank @strepsils123 @nesnejwritings @haruvalentine4321 @feelinthefic @niffala

The bar in Brooklyn was filled with the sounds of celebration. Soldiers clinked their glasses together, sharing stories of their latest victory, their laughter and cheers filling the air. But at a small table in the corner, Steve Rogers sat in silence, a drink in his hand that he hadn’t touched. The noise around him felt distant, muffled by the weight of his thoughts.

Bucky made his way through the crowd, a smile tugging at his lips as he spotted Steve. The relief of seeing his friend safe brought a warmth to his chest. He dropped into the chair beside Steve, clapping a hand on his shoulder. 

“Steve! Man, I can’t wait to see Y/N’s reaction when she finds out we’re back. She’s probably worried sick.”

Steve’s smile faltered, his grip tightening around his glass. He took a deep breath, the words he knew he had to say caught in his throat. 

“Yeah… she always did worry,” he replied, his tone withdrawn.

“I can see it now—she’s gonna give us hell, but she’ll be glad to see us, especially you.” Bucky didn’t notice at first, too caught up in the moment. 

Steve forced a weak smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. The knot in his stomach tightened as Bucky spoke, and he was afraid to confess, afraid of Bucky's reaction. He stared at the drink in his hand, the weight of his guilt growing heavier by the second.

Bucky finally noticed the tension in Steve’s posture, the way he avoided eye contact. His smile faded, replaced by concern. “Steve… What's going on? Something's bothering you.”

Steve exhaled slowly, his lips twitching as he shook his head, “Bucky… something happened before I left for the rescue.”

“Okay?” Bucky furrowed his eyes, a couple of scenarios reeling in his head, “Did you get Y/N pregnant?”

“What? No…” Steve shook his head vigorously, although he'd prefer to be in that situation compared to this.

“Then what happened?” Bucky’s concern deepened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned in.

Steve hesitated, the shame now joined his emotions list. “Y/N and I… we had a fight. A bad one.”

“A fight?” Bucky echoed, a bit confused since a fight is normal in relationships. “About what?”

Steve struggled to find the words, but there’s no turning back. “I said some things I shouldn’t have. I questioned her loyalty. I… I let jealousy get the better of me. I asked her if she was only with me out of pity, or if… if maybe she had feelings for you instead.”

“Jesus, Steve…” he muttered, blinking his eyes in disappointment and Steve’s head dropped, his shame too heavy to face Bucky directly. Bucky stared at Steve, the shock giving way to a rising tide of anger. “You've got to be out of your mind if you really believe that.”

“I know, but… at the time, I was blinded.”

“Steve, do you remember when you first got that rejection letter from the army, and you were down in the dumps? Y/N was the one who picked you back up. She stayed with you for hours, talking you through it. And when you were sick with pneumonia, she practically moved in with you to help take care of you. She barely slept for days nursing you.” Bucky leaned forward, his voice growing more intense as he fought to control his emotions.

Steve nodded slowly, each memory a painful reminder of how much he had taken for granted, “I know, Bucky. I know she was always there for me.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, figuring out how to spit out what he wanted to say. 

“And I’ll admit it okay?” Bucky continued, his eyes looking anywhere but Steve. “I… I love Y/N. But she was too busy to notice because her heart was yours. Devotedly.”

Steve felt a squeeze in his chest by the shock of Bucky’s confession. He stared at Bucky, wide-eyed and stunned, struggling to process the words. He knew Bucky liked you but not love.

Steve’s chest tightened, the weight of Bucky’s words pressing down on him. “I was wrong. But that night… I couldn’t see past my own jealousy and fear.”

“Stop making excuses,” Bucky’s fists clenched at his sides, his frustration growing. “So what happened? You just let her walk away?”

Steve’s voice trembled as he admitted the truth. “No. I walked away. I left her alone, and in the morning her mother called me. She disappeared, and it’s because of me.”

Bucky’s world seemed to spin as the full impact of Steve’s words hit him like a truck. 

“Gone?” he repeated, allowing the word to sink in. “What do you mean by gone?”

“She's missing, Bucky,” Steve said, his voice thick with regret. “I tried to find her, but… she was just gone. And it’s my fault. I—”

Bucky staggered back, a mixture of emotions crashing over him like a wave. “How could you do that, Steve? After everything… how could you leave her like that? And then, in the midst of all this… how could you even dance with that fucking agent lady?”

Steve’s eyes widened slightly at Bucky’s outburst, the raw anger in his friend’s voice catching him off guard. “Bucky, I—”

But Bucky wasn’t finished. His emotions boiled over, and before Steve could say another word, Bucky slammed his fist down on the table, causing the glasses to rattle. His voice shook with animosity and he leaned in closer, his eyes blazing. 

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to!  But now… now you don’t actually get the chance. Now we both have to live with the fact that she’s missing? maybe dead? And for what?”

Steve flinched at the word, ‘dead’. Steve’s head dropped, his shoulders slumping under the crushing weight of his guilt. 

Bucky couldn’t process it, couldn’t reconcile the Steve he knew with the one who had let you slip away. He pushed back from the table, shaking his head in disbelief as the pain and anger twisted inside him.

“Get out of my way.” Bucky pushed a drunkard out of his way and stomped off.

The noise of the bar faded into the background as Bucky walked away, his heart heavy with the knowledge that the one person who had always been there for both of them was now gone. And as Steve sat alone, the victory they had fought so hard for felt hollow, drowned out by the guilt and loss that now ate him from the inside, out.

× × × ×

Steve and Natasha drove through the busy streets, the cityscape bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. The mission had hit a temporary lull. Natasha, ever the observant one, noticed the contemplative look on Steve’s face as he navigated the streets.

Steve had just found out that Bucky is alive and it was a lot for him to take in. Steve's mind was a storm—he was at some point relieved he's alive but at the same time, he wasn’t. How was it possible? His best friend, the man he had mourned for decades, was not only alive but had been turned into a weapon by HYDRA. The thought alone made his stomach churn.

He remembered the nights he and Bucky would wander the streets, talking about their dreams, their future—an uncertain future that had been stolen from them by the war. Now, everything felt different, tainted by the knowledge of what had become of Bucky.

Steve’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as a wave of guilt washed over him. He had failed Bucky—failed to save him, failed to protect him. And now, Bucky was out there, a shadow of the man he once was, driven by forces beyond his control. The weight of that failure pressed down on Steve’s chest like a vice, making it hard to breathe.

"So," Natasha started, her tone light but probing, "anyone special back home? Or are you still dodging those office setups with Agent 13?"

Steve chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "She’s nice, but… I’m not really looking right now."

"Come on, Steve. A guy like you—there’s gotta be someone," Natasha pressed, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Or was there someone? Back in the day."

Steve’s smile faded a bit, and he glanced out the window, his mind clearly elsewhere. Natasha immediately picked up on the change in his demeanor.

"There was someone," he admitted quietly, his tone a mixture of fondness and regret.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Oh? Now, this sounds interesting. Tell me about her."

Steve hesitated, the memories of the past tugging at him. "Her name was Y/N. We were together before the war—before I was Captain."

"Ooh, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend. What happened?" Natasha's expression softened. 

Steve sighed, his grip tightening slightly on the steering wheel. "I let her go. After I got the serum, I… well, I let it get to my head."

"What do you mean?” Natasha turned slightly in her seat, giving him her full attention. 

Steve exhaled slowly, he felt like he's reliving the massive mistake of his life. "I started getting attention from girls—more than I ever had before. And I liked it. I let my brand-new image get to my head, and started to think maybe I deserved it after everything I went through. But it wasn’t real, and I lost sight of what was important. I pushed Y/N away, even though she was the one who had been there for me before everything."

Natasha clicked her tongue in disapproval, but her eyes softened with understanding. "Steve, you were young, and everything changed overnight. That kind of shift… it’s hard not to get swept up in it."

Steve nodded, but the regret in his eyes was unmistakable. "I know, but that’s no excuse. I let her down. By the time I realized what I’d done, it was too late. She was gone, disappeared without a trace."

"Did you try to find her?" Natasha asked, her voice gentle.

"I did," Steve said, his voice thick with emotion, like he was reliving the time where he scoured every nook and cranny of Brooklyn for her. "I tried everything I could, but she was just… gone. Her mother called me, told me Y/N had disappeared the morning after I walked away. I can’t help but think that if I’d done things differently, she’d still be here."

Natasha reached over, placing a hand on his arm in a comforting gesture. "Steve, you can’t carry that guilt forever. You made mistakes, sure, but that doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of forgiveness."

Steve’s expression remained pained, his eyes filled with regret. "I wish I could go back and make it right, Nat. She deserved better than what I gave her."

Natasha gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. "You can’t change the past, Steve, but you can learn from it. If she’s still alive, you owe it to both of you to try and make things right."

Steve looked at Natasha, his gratitude clear, but the weight of his past still heavy on his shoulders. "If she is, I just don’t know if she’d ever forgive me. Or if I even deserve it."

Natasha offered a small, understanding smile. "Forgiveness is a two-way street, Steve. You’ll never know unless you try."

Steve just nodded.

As they continued driving, the conversation lulled into a comfortable silence, but Steve’s thoughts remained on Y/N. The memories, the regrets—they all mingled together, creating a complex web of emotions he couldn’t easily untangle.

Finally, Natasha broke the silence with a teasing jab. "So, if she’s alive? Are you going to apologize first or let her throw the first punch?"

Steve chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Knowing her, even with old age, she’d probably punch me first."

Natasha grinned, glad to see a bit of the tension lift. "Well, just remember—if you need a wingman, I’m here. But you’re on your own with the punching part."

× × × ×

The atmosphere was thick with tension as Alexander Pierce, the Secretary of HYDRA, stood before the Winter Soldier, his expression a mask of cold displeasure. Bucky stood at attention, his face impassive.

Pierce’s voice was low, laced with barely concealed anger. “I asked you for a report, Soldier. Why didn’t you eliminate the target?”

Bucky remained silent, his gaze unfocused, as though he were looking through Pierce rather than at him. This slight defiance, whether intentional or not, only served to infuriate Pierce further. He raised his hand, intending to deliver a harsh blow to snap the Winter Soldier back into obedience. 

But before his hand could connect, it was caught mid-air, gripped tightly by another—your hand. Your fingers squeezed Pierce’s wrist with a force that made him wince, the sound of bones grinding beneath your grip.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you said, your voice dangerously calm. The room seemed to grow colder as you stepped closer, your presence commanding the attention of everyone around you.

Pierce’s eyes flickered from stunned to anger as he looked down at the woman who dared to intervene. “You dare—”

“I dare,” you interrupted, your smirk widening as you tighten your grip, watching with satisfaction as Pierce’s face contorted in pain. “Remember who you’re dealing with, Pierce. The Winter Soldier is valuable, yes, but don’t forget who has the real power here.”

The room held its breath as Pierce glared at you, his anger simmering. His attempt to maintain control was slipping, and you could see it in his eyes—the fear, the uncertainty. But it wasn't enough. You wanted to remind him, and everyone else in the room, who actually had the power.

You pretended to release his wrist only to grab him by the throat, lifting him off the ground as if he weighed nothing. Pierce gasped, his hands instinctively reaching up to claw at your grip, but it was futile. You held him there, suspended in the air, your eyes cold as you watched the panic rise in his eyes.

Around you, HYDRA operatives tensed, their hands moving toward their weapons. The sound of guns being cocked filled the air, and your ears caught it immediately. Instead of flinching or backing down, a low, rumbling chuckle escaped your lips, starting deep in your chest. Your laugh began to rise. It was a sound that started soft, almost like a private joke shared with yourself, but it quickly grew louder, filling the room with a sinister, echoing resonance.

It wasn’t just a laugh; it was a declaration. A reminder of just how dangerous you were. The agents hesitated, their fingers hovering uncertainty over the triggers. They knew what that laugh meant. That you're a woman not to be trifled with—this was a predator, toying with her prey.

As your laughter crescendoed, it took on a twisted, almost gleeful quality, as though you were genuinely delighted by the absurdity of the moment.

“Guns? Really?” you said, your voice dripping with mockery. “Go ahead, pull the trigger. Let’s see who’s faster.”

There was a pause, a moment where time seemed to stand still as the agents exchanged nervous glances. None of them dared to act, not with the lethal reputation you had earned within HYDRA.

Just as the tension reached its peak, your hand moved in a blur. Before anyone could react, you drew a dagger from your side and hurled it with deadly precision. The blade found its mark, embedding itself deep into the skull of one of the agents who had been foolish enough to aim his gun at you. The agent crumpled to the ground, dead before he hit the floor.

The remaining operatives stared in shock, their fingers frozen on the triggers, the reality of the situation crashing down on them like a ton of bricks. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by your voice, now cold and taunting.

“What’s the matter?” you asked, your tone mocking as you glanced at the other agents. “I thought you were going to shoot me?”

No one moved. The fear in the room was heavy, each agent knowing that a single wrong move would mean their death. They were outmatched, outclassed, and they knew it.

You turned your attention back to Pierce, who was still struggling in your grip. His face had gone red, his eyes wide with fear as he realized the precariousness of his situation.

"You think you're in control here, Pierce?" you asked, your voice low and menacing. "You think you can order us around like one of your lackeys? Let me make this clear—I'm not just a weapon you can point and shoot. I'm the one who decides where the bullets land."

With a flick of your wrist, you threw him across the room, watching as he crashed into a table, sending papers and files scattering to the floor. Pierce groaned in pain, clutching his throat as he struggled to regain his breath and composure. But the fear in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

Pierce’s expression darkened, but he knew when to back down. He rubbed his neck with a grimace. “You think you’re untouchable, don’t you?”

You rolled your eyes, he's still actually talking?

“I don’t think, Pierce. I know.”

For a brief moment, your eyes locked, a silent battle of wills. But in the end, it was Pierce who looked away. He knew better than to push you further.

You turned your attention back to Bucky, your expression softening ever so slightly as you reached out and gently caressed his face. The touch was light, almost tender, and as you did so, a name slipped from your lips in a whisper, one that seemed to stir something deep within Bucky.

“Bucky…”

For a moment, Bucky’s eyes focused, the faintest glimmer of recognition flashing across his face. But it was fleeting, gone as quickly as it had appeared, and his expression returned to the blank slate that HYDRA had molded him into.

You let your hand fall away, a hint of sadness in your eyes before you masked it with your usual cold demeanor. You turned back to Pierce, your smirk returning. 

“Remember your place, Mr. Secretary. For someone using us as a tool to make ends meet, I expect a little more. . . respect.”

With that, you turned on your heel, motioning for Bucky to follow you. He did so without hesitation, leaving Pierce and the operatives standing in stunned silence.

You and Bucky reached the door, then you paused, turning back to Pierce with a final, icy smile. “And as for Rogers… I’ll deal with him personally.”

Pierce’s eyes narrowed, his anger barely contained, but he said nothing as you and the Winter Soldier disappeared through the door.

When the door closed behind you, Pierce’s anger boiled over, but he knew he had to tread carefully. You were not someone to be crossed lightly, and if he wanted to keep control of HYDRA’s greatest assets, he would need to play his cards right.

But the look in your eyes, the way you had protected the Winter Soldier—it left him with an uneasy feeling. There was more to you than met the eye, and Pierce couldn’t shake the feeling that you were a force that even HYDRA might not be able to contain.

× × × ×

The sound of his powerful thrusts filled the room, each one accompanied by a wet, sensual sound as your pussy eagerly welcomed him inside. With every thrust his grip on your hip tightens, his metallic hand will leave a bruise but you don’t care.

His other hand closed around your throat too roughly, pressing the hardened ridges of the larynx against the epiglottis. A spasm in his fingers was all the warning you received before they clamped down, forcing more pressure. 

“Yes, just like that.” you moaned wantonly, you whimpered as everything tightened, the sweet tension built from the deep rhythmic strokes. You were gasping and frantic, pumping your hips. Reaching between your legs, you rubbed your clit with the pads of your fingers, trying to hasten your climax.

“Not so tough now, huh?” The winter soldier growls, his voice filled with desire and urgency. His thrusts grew more intense, his voice becoming more primal. "You want it harder?" he asked, his voice dripping with seduction. 

You could only manage a desperate nod as the pleasure intensified. The wet, rhythmic sounds of your bodies colliding filled the room, mixing with your moans of pleasure.

Bucky's grip on your neck loosened, allowing a cold rush of air to fill your burning lungs. But there was no time to recover—before you could catch your breath, he swiftly flipped you over, his arm coiling around your waist as he hauled you up on your knees.

SMACK!

He slapped your ass so hard you had a hard time suppressing a shriek. Bucky's hand tangled in your hair once more, yanking your head back until it was level with his. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he hovered menacingly behind you.

"Don't you feel like a slut, in here with me, getting fucked, while those morons think you’re indestructible?” 

SMACK!

"Answer me!" he growls, smacking you more in between, his grip on your hair tightened, it's beginning to hurt your scalp. 

"Yes," you moaned, so turned on that you could have come at any moment.

"Yes what?” he says through his gritted teeth, smacking you harder that it echoes in the room. 

“Yes I feel like a slut.” you choked out with a smile on your lips. 

“Good. You're going to come all over this dick, saying my name, yes?” he said, slapping your clit with his cock. With your thighs spread wide, the tip of his cock presses your entrance. The smooth head slides between your folds and rubs against your clit, intensifying your arousal. 

“Yes.” You moan, your head arching back, and he slowly enters you, penetrating you inch by slow inch. 

You gasp as he goes deeper, filling you again with his thickness. It feels good, so unbelievably good, and you moan again, tightening your inner muscles around his shaft. He groans, closing his eyes, and you do it again, wanting more of the sensation.

He begins to rock back and forth, causing his shaft to move within you ever so slightly, sending waves of heat throughout your body. However, each movement also serves as a reminder of the earlier beating, and a pained moan escapes your throat as your sore buttocks rub against his hard thighs.

He devours you with his kiss, swallowing your whimpers, his mouth now consuming yours with unrestrained hunger.

His hips rocking harder, adding to the pressure building within your core, "You like that, don't you?" he growled.

"Mmmm." you could only moan in response, lost in the pleasure that consumed you. Your own fingers assaulting your clit trying to match his rhythm.

Yanking your hips to meet his powerful thrusts, Bucky battered your tender sex with that brutally thick column of rigid flesh, his gaze dark and possessive, his breath leaving him in primitive grunts every time he hit your cervix. A trembling moan left you, the friction of his drives stirring your never-sated need to be fucked senseless by him. 

Long strokes. Pounding, pile driving impacts. Your pussy was so wet there was hardly any friction in or out, just the brutal slapping as he jackhammered you pussy remorselessly. Not fucking. Mating. Breeding. 

His other hand moves down your body, his hand spreading your wetness through your stretched slit before pressing his fingers moving small circular motions to gripping your clit between his thumb and index finger.

“J-James—O-h-h, F-u-c-k” you muttered in a broken moan as you flew apart.

Your orgasm is so strong, you can’t even make a sound. For a few blissful seconds, you're completely swamped by pleasure, by ecstasy so intense that it’s almost agonizing. Your body shudders uncontrollably under his body, your muscles clamping down his cock tightly, while your hips gyrate as his cock continues to pound you. Your movements trigger his own release.

“I'm damn close—fuck, I'm coming.” The sensation of you milking his cock is indescribable, the pleasure sharp and electric. It zings through him, hurling him in to reach his peak. Groaning harshly, he grinds his pelvis against you, “Oh I'm coming.”

“Yes! Fill me up—give it to me inside.” 

Muscles rippled and bulged along his shoulders and quads as he leaned forward, grinding every millimeter of thickness and length into you. A rough, guttural growl rumbled through your bones. Jet after jet of hot, potent cum deluged your ravaged, desperately spasming walls.

“Ready for more?” he whispers in your ear, his cock barely softening within you. He kisses your earlobe, and the tender gesture is such a contrast to what he’d just done that you feel disoriented. That wasn't normal winter soldier behavior.

× × × ×

You sat straddling Bucky on the leather couch, your breathing still heavy from fucking three times in a row. You began to move away, Bucky’s hands, which had been resting on your hips, suddenly tightened their grip. 

You felt the change before you saw it—It was subtle at first, the flicker in his eyes, the way his breath hitched as his gaze became focused, sharp. But there was something else too, something far away in his stare, as if he were trying to grasp onto a memory just out of reach.

"The man at the bridge, who was he?" Bucky's voice was low, but it carried a weight that made you pause. 

You had seen these moments of clarity before, rare glimpses of the man he used to be before HYDRA twisted his mind. They never lasted long, a fleeting reminder of the person buried beneath the Winter Soldier’s conditioning. You knew what HYDRA expected of you—what Pierce demanded—but as you looked into Bucky’s eyes, your best friend from a time long past, so lost and vulnerable, you hesitated.

“You met him this week on another assignment.” you replied, trying to keep your voice detached.

“I knew him.” His voice was stronger this time, he was certain.

“Look, Pierce is gonna want us to push it tomorrow—” You shifted slightly, trying to pull away from him, but Bucky’s forced you down on his lap, keeping you in place.

“But I knew him.”

You sighed deeply, frustrated. Grabbing his face roughly, you forced him to look at you, your fingers digging into his skin. "Listen to me, whatever is going on in your head, I need you to put it aside. If Pierce finds out about this, he's going to put you through electroshock to reset you, and I can’t let that happen.”

Bucky’s eyes bore into yours, searching for something, anything, that made sense. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You released your grip on his face, your fingers trailing through his hair as you brushed his brown locks out of the way. "Old sentiments," you muttered, the words bitter on your tongue.

But even as you said it, you knew it was a lie, a half-truth.

It wasn’t just sentiment, though, was it? It was the guilt, the buried rage at everything HYDRA had turned you into. You hated Pierce, despised SHIELD, and the mere thought of Steve brought a twisted knot of anger and betrayal to your chest. But Bucky—Bucky didn’t deserve this. Not after everything he’d been through, not after being twisted into something unrecognizable by the same people who had destroyed your life.

You weren’t doing this because you were good. You weren’t a hero. You were still the same girl driven by anger and resentment toward the world. But Bucky, he was the only piece of your past that still mattered, the only thing left that was worth saving. 

And so, as you looked into his confused, lost eyes, you made a silent promise. You would free him from this nightmare, only because he was your friend. 

“Just trust me,” you whispered, your voice softer now. “In due time, you will get the answers you want to hear.”

Bucky’s eyes searched yours, as if trying to gauge the sincerity in your words. Slowly, he nodded, though the uncertainty still lingered in his gaze, “I trust you.”

The fragments of his past flickered like dying embers in the recesses of his mind. He couldn't fully grasp who he was before HYDRA, couldn't make sense of the flashes of memory that haunted him in the rare moments of clarity. But there was something about you—something that tugged at his very soul, making him feel connected in a way that defied explanation.

He was a weapon, a tool shaped and controlled by forces he barely understood, yet whenever he looked at you, something within him stirred. It wasn’t just the physical attraction—though that was undeniable—but something deeper, something that made him feel almost human again. His heart remembered you, even when his mind could not.

Why did he feel so drawn to you, so protective, so...fond? It didn’t make sense. He didn’t have memories of you, no context for these emotions, yet they were there, strong and insistent. He was the Winter Soldier—cold, detached, and efficient—but around you, those walls seemed to crack, letting in warmth he didn’t understand.

His hands trailed up the small of your back and he found himself leaning in, compelled by a force he couldn’t resist. His lips found yours, and the kiss that followed was as much a search for answers as it was an expression of the remnants of love he has for you. He felt the warmth of your skin, the softness of your lips, and momentarily, it all made sense.

× × × ×

The streets were slick with rain, the neon lights of the city reflected off the wet pavement as Steve, Natasha, and Sam moved through the shadows. The mission was simple—take down the HYDRA operatives before they could unleash chaos. But nothing about this night was going according to plan.

A sudden blur of movement caught Steve’s attention, and he spun around just in time to raise his shield, blocking a powerful kick aimed at his head. The impact reverberated through the vibranium, the sheer force behind the blow surprising him. Whoever this was, they were no ordinary agent.

His attacker wore black from head to toe, a tactical mask obscuring your face, a hood pulled low over your eyes. Steve couldn’t see your face, but he could tell from the fluidity of their movements that you were highly trained—possibly even on par with him.

Without giving him a moment’s rest, you launched into a series of rapid strikes. Steve’s body reacted on instinct, parrying and blocking with precision honed from years of combat. But the ferocity and speed of the attacks were relentless, forcing him back step by step.

The fight was a brutal dance of skill and power. You used every inch of the narrow alley to your advantage, bouncing off walls, using the slippery ground to slide under Steve’s defenses, and striking at vulnerable points with deadly accuracy. Steve swung his shield in a wide arc, aiming to knock his opponent off balance, but then you ducked under it effortlessly, coming up with a knee strike that connected solidly with his midsection.

Steve grunted, the air forced from his lungs as he staggered back, but he quickly recovered, slamming his shield forward to create some distance between you. You leaped back with cat-like agility, landing silently several feet away. For a brief moment, you paused, tilting your head as if assessing him, before darting forward again with even more speed.

“Who the hell are you?” Steve growled, his voice low and filled with frustration as he swung his shield to intercept the incoming attack.

You didn’t respond, merely twisting your body mid-air, narrowly avoiding the shield before delivering a roundhouse kick aimed at Steve’s head. He barely had time to duck, feeling the rush of air as the boot sailed over his head.

In response, Steve drove his shoulder into your midsection, attempting to drive you into the wall, but you twisted your body, using the momentum to flip over him and deliver a brutal elbow strike to the back of his head. Steve stumbled forward, momentarily disoriented, but he quickly spun around, his shield raised defensively.

You advanced again, this time producing a pair of combat knives from your belt. The glint of the blades under the streetlights was enough to make Steve’s grip on his shield tighten.

“Knives, really?” Steve muttered, more to himself than to his opponent. He had faced down armies with just his fists, but this fight felt different—more personal, more dangerous.

You didn’t waste time with a response, instead rushing forward with both blades aimed at his vital points. Steve deflected the first strike with his shield, twisting his body to avoid the second, but you were relentless. You pressed the attack, slashing and stabbing with surgical precision, each strike aimed to cripple or kill.

Steve retaliated with a powerful swing of his shield, the force behind it enough to send most opponents flying, but you anticipated the move. You ducked low, sweeping your legs out to knock Steve off his feet. Steve managed to stay upright, but the move forced him to lose his balance, and you took advantage, driving one of the knives toward his chest.

In a split-second reaction, Steve angled his shield to deflect the blade, but the impact sent vibrations up his arm, nearly causing him to drop it. You didn’t let up, following up with a swift knee strike to his ribs, the force of it knocking the wind out of him.

Breathing heavily, Steve tried to reassess the situation. This was no ordinary operative—this was someone who had been trained specifically to counter him. And you were good. Too good.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Steve growled, pushing forward with renewed determination. 

He swung his shield with all his might, aiming to knock you off balance, but you were ready. You caught the edge of the shield with both hands, the impact skidding you back several feet, your boots screeching against the wet pavement. With a grunt, you twirled in the air, using the momentum to hurl the shield back at Steve.

Steve barely had time to react, catching the shield just before it collided with his face. But the force behind it was immense, pushing him back a few steps.

Before he could press his advantage, you were on him again, this time using a combination of grappling techniques and martial arts to try and subdue him. You were quick, switching between jabs, hooks, and submission holds with fluid precision. At one point, you managed to lock Steve’s arm behind his back, twisting it at a painful angle as you tried to force him to the ground.

Steve gritted his teeth against the pain, refusing to go down. He planted his feet firmly and used his strength to break the hold, swinging his elbow back to catch the figure in the side. The blow connected, but you barely flinched, countering with a vicious headbutt that left Steve momentarily dazed.

You went for another knife strike, this time aiming for his throat. Steve caught your wrist mid-strike, twisting it with enough force to make you drop the knife. But instead of recoiling in pain, you used the momentum to flip Steve over your shoulder, slamming him into the ground with a force that left him gasping.

He struggled to get up, his vision swimming from the impact. You stood over him, a boot pressing down on his chest, pinning him in place. In a move born of desperation, Steve reached up, grabbing the edge of your mask and tearing it off.

Time seemed to slow as the mask came away, revealing the face beneath. Steve’s breath caught in his throat.

It was you, all along.

The world came to a stop as he stared up at you, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. You—alive, but different. Your eyes, once filled with warmth and love, were now cold and distant, filled with a darkness he had never seen before.

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice was barely a whisper, shock and disbelief flooding his features.

For a split second, your cold facade cracked, a flash of recognition and pain crossing your features. But it was gone as quickly as it came, your expression hardening once more. You took advantage of Steve’s shock, delivering a swift punch to his jaw that sent him reeling.

Before Steve could fully recover, you turned and sprinted toward the nearest exit, moving with a speed that left Steve struggling to keep up. He scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding as he chased after you, but by the time he reached the door, you were already gone, disappearing into the night like a ghost.

Steve stood in the doorway, his heart heavy with the realization that the woman he had once loved was now his enemy. The Y/N he knew was gone, replaced by someone hardened by pain and anger.

× × × × 

Steve stood frozen in the doorway, trying to make sense of what had just happened. You're alive—and he let you disappear into the night, leaving him with more questions than answers. Before he could fully process what he had seen, a familiar voice crackled through his earpiece.

“Cap, we’ve got a situation here,” Tony’s voice was tense, though laced with his usual sarcasm. “I’ve got a guest who’s a little too enthusiastic for my taste. Could use some backup.”

Steve’s heart skipped a beat. “Tony, who is it?”

“Not sure, but she’s got one hell of a right hook and a serious attitude problem,” Tony replied, the sound of metal clashing and blasts firing in the background. “And oh, did I mention she can jump like the Hulk?”

Steve’s eyes widened. He had a sinking feeling he knew exactly who Tony was dealing with. Without wasting another second, he took off in the direction of the commotion, his heart pounding in his chest.

Tony, clad in his Iron Man suit, was locked in a fierce aerial battle with you, who was now maskless and fully visible. Your face was set in grim determination as you leapt into the air, your powerful legs propelling you high enough to meet Tony’s flight path. Each of your strikes was calculated, aimed at the joints and weaker points of the suit.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy there, Wonder Woman!” Tony said, dodging a particularly brutal punch that nearly dented his chest plate. “I’m not a piñata, you know!”

Your expression remained cold as you twisted in midair, avoiding a repulsor blast and landing a solid kick against Tony’s side, sending him spiraling briefly before he regained control. 

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that!” Tony called out as he righted himself, flying in a tight circle around you before firing off another series of repulsor blasts. You dodged most of them with ease, but one caught you in the shoulder, causing you to grimace slightly. You recovered quickly, though, using the momentum to propel your back into the air, your fist aimed directly at Tony’s faceplate.

Tony barely had time to dodge, the blow glancing off his helmet with enough force to crack the HUD display. 

“Okay, now you’re just being rude!” he said sarcastically, as he adjusted his flight path to put some distance between you.

You didn’t give him much room to breathe, though. With a powerful leap, you closed the gap between you, grabbing onto Tony’s arm and using your weight to pull him down. Both of you crashed into the ground with a thunderous impact, the pavement cracking beneath you. Tony groaned as he struggled to push you off, but your strength was overwhelming, even for the suit’s enhanced capabilities.

“Ever heard of personal space?” Tony grunted as he activated the suit’s thrusters, attempting to blast them both back into the air. You held on tightly, twisting his arm at an awkward angle that caused the servos in the suit to whine in protest.

“You talk too much,” You finally replied, your voice flat and cold as you released your grip on his arm and delivered a sharp kick to his midsection, sending him flying backward.

Tony recovered mid-flight, his repulsors flaring as he hovered a few feet off the ground, rubbing at the dent you'd left in his side. 

“Yeah, well, it’s part of my charm,” he shot back, firing off another barrage of missiles in your direction.

You dodged with an almost effortless grace, leaping into the air once more and landing on top of a nearby building. You crouched low, your eyes locked on Tony as you prepared for the next move.

Tony hovered in place, watching you closely. “Seriously, what’s your deal? We just met, and you’re already throwing me around like a rag doll.”

Your expression didn’t change as you suddenly launched yourself off the building, your fist aimed directly at Tony’s chest. This time, though, you didn’t hold back. The impact was tremendous, sending Tony crashing through a parked car and skidding across the pavement.

Groaning, Tony pushed himself up, his HUD flickering from the damage. “Okay, that’s it. Playtime’s over.”

He activated the suit’s full power, repulsors blazing as he rocketed back toward you. The two of you clashed mid-air, exchanging blows at a speed and intensity that would have shattered ordinary opponents. But through it all, Tony couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren't giving it your all. There was a calculated precision in your strikes, as if you were testing him rather than trying to finish him off.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of trading hits, Tony managed to grab hold of your wrists, locking them in place with the suit’s enhanced grip. He lifted you off the ground, his repulsors ready to fire point-blank, “End of the line, lady. Let’s talk.”

You didn’t resist. Instead, you looked up at him with an unreadable expression, your body suddenly going limp. 

“Fine,” you said, your voice eerily calm. “You win.”

Tony blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift. “Wait, seriously? That’s it?”

You simply nodded, allowing yourself to be restrained by the suit’s mechanisms. 

“Take me in,” you said, your voice devoid of emotion. “I’m not going to fight anymore.”

Tony frowned, his instincts telling him something wasn’t right, but he didn’t press the issue. “Alright, let’s get you somewhere safe and figure out what the hell is going on.”

As Tony started to descend, Steve finally arrived on the scene, his shield at the ready. He took in the sight of Tony holding you, your face calm despite the situation, and his heart sank.

Tony looked at Steve and couldn’t help but say, “Well, look who decided to show up. Don’t worry, I had everything under control—just took a brief break to contemplate my life choices while getting pummeled.”

Your lips twitched a small smile at his comment.

Steve caught his breath as he assessed the situation. “Better late than never, right?”

“Next time, maybe give me a heads-up when you’re gonna leave me to play the lone hero. Could’ve at least brought popcorn to watch the show.” Tony shook his head.

Steve stared at your face, his eyes taking in every detail, even rubbing his eyes to make sure this was real. Tony furrowed his brows at Steve and exchanged glances between the two of you.

“So,” Tony finally broke the silence, his tone shifting to something more serious, “are we bringing her in, or are we just gonna stand here and play the ‘who blinks first’?”

× × × ×

The soft hum of the Helicarrier's engines was the only sound as the team gathered around the large, circular table. A few faces were still unfamiliar with each other—Natasha, Clint, and Sam exchanged glances as they settled into their seats. Tony, leaning back casually, eyed Steve, who stood apart from the group, a heavy tension radiating from him. It was clear that something weighed heavily on the Captain’s mind, something that no one had dared to address yet.

In the center of the table, a holographic screen flickered to life, casting an eerie blue glow over the faces of the Avengers. Fury stood at the head of the table, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"Listen up," Fury began, his voice commanding everyone's attention. "We've got a new player on the board, and she’s every bit as dangerous as the Winter Soldier."

With a tap of his finger, Fury brought up a series of video feeds on the screen, all showing various skirmishes involving HYDRA forces. But the common thread through each of these battles was a single figure: you. 

The hologram shifted, showing footage of you in action, moving through a battlefield. Bullets ricocheted off you, seemingly ineffective as you advanced on your targets with single-minded precision. The final clip showed you taking down an entire squadron of soldiers without breaking a sweat, your movements efficient and deadly.

"Meet HYDRA's new secret weapon," Fury continued, his tone grim. "We don’t have a lot of intel on her, but what we do know isn’t good. She’s been operating under the radar, but make no mistake—she’s a force to be reckoned with. No hesitation, no mercy."

The profile flashed on the screen, sparse and incomplete:

Name: Unknown   Age: Unknown   Origin: Siberia  

The room was silent as the team absorbed the information. Natasha’s eyes narrowed as she studied the footage, while Clint leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, deep in thought. Tony looked intrigued, his mind already racing with calculations and possibilities.

“She looks like she’s trained well. This isn’t someone who just stumbled into HYDRA’s ranks. She’s had years of experience.” Natasha commented before shifting her gaze to Fury.

“Years of brainwashing, you mean,” Tony added, his tone filled with dry sarcasm. “Another weaponized human for us to deal with. Just what we needed.”

Clint leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied your image. "She doesn’t look like she’s been held against her will. If anything, she seems... committed.”

Fury nodded, his expression steely. “Our priority is figuring out her next move, because that,” he pointed at your live footage in the cell sitting calmly, “is not the type to surrender easily.”

Steve remained silent throughout the briefing, his jaw clenched tightly as he stared at the image of you on the screen. Fury’s words were sinking in, each one a painful reminder of how far you had fallen.

"We’ve already got her in a secure cell," Fury continued, his tone brokering no argument. "But I don’t think she’s going to stay quiet for long. Our best bet is to find out everything we can about her—where she’s been, what HYDRA’s done to her—and see if we can get ahead of this. We’re playing catch-up, and we can’t afford to stay behind for long.”

“How do you know if she’s going to cooperate?” Clint asked.

"We don’t," Fury admitted, his tone grim. "But that’s why we’re not taking any chances. She's locked down tighter than Fort Knox, and we're monitoring her every move.”

Fury’s gaze shifted to Steve, who had remained silent, staring intently at the image of you in the cell. The tension in the room was palpable as everyone waited to see if Steve would speak.

Finally, Fury broke the silence, addressing the room at large. "We don’t know what HYDRA’s endgame is here, but we do know they’ve put a lot of resources into this. We can’t underestimate her, and we can’t assume she’s alone. There’s more going on here, and we need to be prepared for anything.”

The team just nodded in unison.

Fury’s gaze swept across the team before he asked the question that was on everyone’s mind. "So, who wants the privilege of talking to her?"

The room fell silent as everyone considered the gravity of the situation. Natasha’s eyes narrowed slightly, her instincts telling her that this conversation would be more dangerous than any fight. Tony raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the challenge, but before anyone could volunteer, Steve finally spoke up, his voice steady but laced with emotion.

"I’ll do it," Steve said, his gaze never leaving the screen.

Tony glanced at Steve, then back at the image on the screen, and with a smirk, he added, "Well, she made Cap make friends with the floor, so I’ll come with. Can’t let him have all the fun, right?”

Steve shot Tony a look, but there was a hint of gratitude in his eyes. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy, and having Tony there might just make it a bit more bearable.

× × × ×

The interrogation room was cold, the walls made of reinforced steel, with a single table and three chairs bolted to the floor. The whole room was lit up, leaving no shadows around the room. You sat in one of the chairs, your hands cuffed securely in front of you, though the cuffs seemed more like a formality than a real deterrent.

Steve and Tony stood outside the observation window, looking in at you. Steve’s expression was tense, his eyes fixed on you, while Tony had a thoughtful look on his face, his usual humor subdued.

"You ready for this?" Tony asked, his voice unusually serious as he glanced at Steve.

Steve nodded, but there was a storm of emotions churning beneath his calm exterior. "Let’s get it over with."

They stepped into the room, the door closing behind them with a heavy thud. You didn’t look up as they entered, your gaze fixed on the table in front of you, as if you were lost in thought. But as they took their seats across from you, you slowly lifted your eyes, a faint, unreadable smile playing on your lips.

"Captain," you said, your voice cool and calm. "Mr. Stark."

“Hello Unknown—”

"Y/N," Steve replied, his tone heavy with the weight of your shared history.

Tony’s eyebrows shot up slightly at Steve’s use of your name, but he didn’t comment. Instead, his eyes flicked over to Steve with a look of mild surprise.

There was a moment of silence as the three of you sized each other up, the tension in the room palpable. Finally, Tony broke the silence, leaning back in his chair with a casual air that didn’t quite match the situation.

"So, Y/N," Tony began, quoting your name with his fingers, his tone conversational, almost friendly. "You know, I’m usually the one asking the questions, but let’s mix it up a bit. Why don’t you tell us why you decided to let us catch you?"

You raised an eyebrow at Tony’s question, your smile widening just a fraction. "Did I let you catch me? Or did you just get lucky?"

Tony smirked, twirling a fork he had slipped from the dining area between his fingers. "Oh, I don’t believe in luck. You’re too good to get caught by accident. So, what’s the plan? What’s HYDRA up to this time?"

"Wouldn’t you like to know?” You tilted your head slightly, considering your response. 

Steve’s jaw clenched at your evasiveness, but he kept his voice steady as he spoke. "Y/N, we need to know what HYDRA’s planning. You can stop this. Whatever they’ve done to you, we can help."

Tony’s eyes shifted between you and Steve, the curiosity deepening. He still didn’t say anything about Steve using your name, but it was clear he had taken note of it.

You turned your gaze to Steve, staring daggers into him. "Help? Like you helped Bucky?" The question was pointed, sharp enough to draw blood.

Steve flinched, but he didn’t back down. “We’re trying to save you.”

“Save me?” You let out a small, bitter laugh. “You can’t even save yourselves.”

Tony cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him. “Speaking of saving, I’ve been wondering about something.” He held up the fork, “Let’s try a little experiment.”

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in your eyes. "A fork? How quaint."

Tony grinned, twirling the fork between his fingers. "Well, I figured we’d see just how indestructible you really are."

Before Steve could protest, Tony reached across the table and pressed the fork against your forearm, applying pressure as if to test your skin. You didn’t flinch or move, simply watching him with an amused expression.

The fork bent under the pressure, the metal warping against your skin as if it were nothing more than a cheap plastic utensil. Tony released it, letting the mangled fork drop to the table with a clatter.

"Well, that’s definitely not normal.” Tony glanced at the bent fork, then back at you, his surprise quickly masked by his usual bravado. 

"Satisfied?” You looked down at the fork, then back up at Tony, your eyebrows raised in a silent, almost mocking challenge. 

Tony leaned back in his chair, clearly impressed, though he tried to hide it. "Well, I’ve seen weirder, but that’s up there."

Steve, who had been watching the exchange with frustration, finally spoke up. "Y/N, you don’t have to do this. Whatever HYDRA’s done to you, whatever they’ve made you believe, it doesn’t have to be this way."

You leaned forward slightly, your expression hardening. "Steve, you’re still so naive. This world doesn’t care about heroes or villains. It’s about power, control. And HYDRA... they understand that better than anyone."

Tony frowned, leaning forward as well. "So what’s your endgame? What do you get out of all this?"

You looked between the two of them, your smile fading as you considered the question. "Endgame? You really think it’s that simple? I’m just a piece on the board, Stark. The difference is, I know it."

Tony shook his head with a smirk. "You know, it’s a real shame you’re a total piece of shit because we would have made great friends. No offense, Cap." Tony lightly patted Steve on the shoulder.

You chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, trust me, Stark, it wouldn’t have worked out. I don’t play well with others."

“Yeah, I'm getting that vibe,” Tony chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. “But let’s get back to you, I will ask again and you answer. What’s your deal? Why’d you let us catch you? Was it my charm? Steve’s good looks? Or were you just bored of winning?"

You leaned back in your chair, considering his words. "Let’s just say I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. You know, see if the Avengers are really as impressive as they say."

Tony leaned in, his grin widening. "And? What’s the verdict?" 

You shrugged, your tone nonchalant. "You’re not bad. But I was expecting more... fireworks."

"Fireworks, huh?" Tony glanced at Steve with a smirk. "See, Cap? She’s got a sense of humor. Maybe we can work something out. Maybe you and I can grab a drink later, talk about how we both have a thing for breaking stuff.”

You shrugged, your expression indifferent. “Maybe in another life, Stark. But this one? Not a chance.”

“You’re more than just a piece on the board, Y/N. You always have been.” Steve’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his voice gentle but firm.

For the first time since the interrogation began, you seemed to hesitate, something flickering in your eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the cold, detached mask you had worn since they had captured you.

"Believe what you want, Steve," you said quietly, leaning back in your chair. "But that doesn’t change anything."

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, this is getting us nowhere. We’ll be back, Y/N. And next time, maybe you’ll be in a more talkative mood."

You didn’t respond, simply watching as Tony and Steve stood up, the door to the interrogation room sliding open with a soft hiss. A small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Just as they reached the door, you spoke up, your voice smooth and casual, but with an undercurrent of something darker.

“You might want to keep your friends close,” you murmured, your words barely louder than a whisper but sharp enough to cut through the air, “and your enemies... even closer. Not everyone at the top plays the game fairly.”

Steve paused, his hand on the door, glancing back at you. 

Tony turned slightly, “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tony asked, frowning.

You just shrugged, your smile widening as if you were in on a joke they hadn’t figured out yet. “Just a piece of friendly advice. Sometimes the rot starts from within, and by the time you notice, it’s already spread too deep. But hey, what do I know?”

Steve exchanged a quick glance with Tony, the unspoken concern evident between them. But they knew better than to press you further—this was exactly the kind of mind game HYDRA would want you to play. 

“Come on, let’s go,” Steve said, his voice tight as he opened the door.

Without another word, Steve turned and exited the room, Tony following close behind.

As the door shut behind them, you could still hear Tony muttering to Steve, “You think she’s just messing with us, or should we actually be worried?”

Steve’s silence was telling—whatever you meant, it had left him unsettled, and the cryptic warning echoed in his mind, feeding a growing sense of unease.

× × × × 

Flashback: Brooklyn, 1941

The night air was crisp, the sky above a sprawling canvas of twinkling stars that seemed to stretch on forever. You and Steve lay side by side on a worn-out blanket, nestled together on the rooftop of your apartment in Brooklyn. The city’s usual noise felt distant, like a faint echo, leaving only the serene hush of the night and the rhythmic beating of your hearts.

Steve’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as he gazed up at the stars. “You ever think about what’s out there?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “What does it all mean?”

You turned your head to look at him, your face illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. “Sometimes,” you replied, a small smile playing on your lips. “But mostly, I think about what’s right here. Right now.”

“Well, if you’re not thinking about aliens or flying cars, I guess you’ve got your priorities straight.” Steve chuckled, the sound low and warm, and you felt it reverberate through the quiet night. 

You nudged him playfully with your shoulder. “And what about you, Rogers? Are you spending all your time up here daydreaming about little green men?”

Steve grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Maybe,” he teased. “Or maybe I’m just trying to figure out how I ended up here with the prettiest girl in Brooklyn.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest at his words. “Flattery will get you everywhere, soldier.”

“I’m counting on it,” Steve said with a wink, and you both laughed softly, the sound mingling with the rustling of the breeze.

After a moment, the laughter faded, replaced by a comfortable silence. Steve turned onto his side so he could face you fully, his expression softening as he reached out to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering as he tucked it behind your ear.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice suddenly more serious. “I know I’m not the strongest or the fastest... and I know I don’t have much to offer, but... I want you to know something.”

You squeezed his hand gently, encouraging him to continue. “What is it, Steve?”

He took a deep breath, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles as he spoke. “I care about you, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And I promise you, no matter what happens... I’ll protect you. I’ll stand by you. I’ll take care of you, always.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest as you looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his sincerity.

“Steve,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “You don’t have to be anything more than who you are. That’s more than enough for me.”

Steve smiled, a mixture of relief and affection in his eyes. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you replied, squeezing his hand again. “But just so you know, I’m pretty good at taking care of myself too. So maybe we can take care of each other?”

Steve’s smile widened, and he nodded. “Deal.”

With a playful grin, you held up your pinky finger. “Pinky promise?”

Steve raised an eyebrow, amused. “Pinky promise? Are we twelve?”

You smirked, undeterred. “Just humor me, Rogers.”

Steve chuckled and linked his pinky with yours. “Alright, pinky promise.”

You both shook on it, the moment feeling almost sacred in its simplicity. When your hands released, you shifted closer, resting your head on Steve’s chest as his arm wrapped securely around you. The warmth of his embrace made you feel safe, as if nothing in the world could touch you as long as you were together.

“You know,” Steve said after a few moments of comfortable silence, “I’m pretty sure pinky promises are unbreakable.”

You grinned, your eyes still fixed on the stars above. “That’s the idea.”

Steve pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his voice barely more than a breath. “I’ll never break it. I promise.”

For a while, neither of you spoke, the only sound was the soft rustling of the night breeze and the steady beat of Steve’s heart beneath your ear. The world below faded into nothingness, leaving just the two of you under the vast expanse of the starry sky, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s presence.

In that moment, everything felt right. The future, with all its uncertainties, seemed far away. All that mattered was the here and now, and the love you shared under the Brooklyn sky.

Present Day

Steve stood alone in the observation room, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him. His thoughts were consumed by the memory you shared together, of the promises he had made and the promises he had failed to keep. 

With a heavy sigh, he reached into the pocket of his uniform and pulled out a small, worn photograph. The edges were frayed from years of handling, and the image itself had started to fade, but it was still clear enough to see your smiling face. It was a picture taken long ago, back when things were simpler, back when the world hadn’t yet taken its toll on either of you.

In the photograph, you were laughing, your eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that had always made his heart skip a beat. You were leaning into him, and he had his arm around your shoulders, both of you looking so carefree, so happy. It was a moment frozen in time, a snapshot of a life that felt like it belonged to someone else now.

Steve’s thumb brushed over the image of your face, and he felt a lump rise in his throat. This photo had been his lifeline during the war, and later, in the years after he was thawed out, it had been his constant reminder of what he had lost.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he stared at the picture. He couldn’t reconcile the person in this photograph with the one he had fought against. It was like looking at two different people—one filled with love and warmth, and the other filled with anger and pain.

He clenched his jaw, trying to keep himself from breaking down. He couldn’t afford to lose control, not now, not when everything was on the line. But the pain was too much, the guilt too overwhelming. He had kept this photo with him through everything, as a reminder of what he was fighting for, of the life he wanted to get back to. But now, it only served as a cruel reminder of what he had failed to protect.

Steve sank into a nearby chair, his head bowed as he continued to stare at the photograph. The tears he had tried to hold back slipped down his cheeks, and he didn’t bother to wipe them away. All he could do was sit there, lost in his grief, mourning the girl he had loved and the girl he had lost, even though you were still alive.

The photograph trembled in his hands as he struggled to hold onto it, to hold onto the memory of who you had been. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the image of what you had become. It haunted him, tearing at his heart, filling him with a despair so deep he wasn’t sure he could ever claw his way out.

× × × × 

0145 HRS

Steve walked back into the cell, the harsh fluorescent lights now turned on, casting cold, unyielding shadows on the walls. You were exactly where he and Tony had left you, your posture calm, almost unnervingly so. Your cuffed wrist rested on the table, fingers lightly drumming a rhythm that matched the distant hum of the Helicarrier’s engines.

Steve sat across from you, the silence between you stretching out like a chasm. The harsh fluorescent lights above cast unforgiving shadows on your face, but your expression remained indifferent, almost bored. You leaned back in the metal chair and watched Steve with a look that could only be described as disdainful amusement.

“So,” you drawled, breaking the silence with a voice dripping in mockery, “The great Captain America finally graces me with his presence. I must say, I’m flattered. Though, I’m starting to think you only come around when your self-righteousness needs a little top-up.”

Steve’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. He simply stared at you, his blue eyes searching for something—anything—familiar in your expression. But the person he had known, the person he had loved, was buried deep beneath the venom you now spewed.

“You’ve changed,” Steve said quietly.

You laughed, a cold, bitter sound that echoed in the small room. “Changed? Oh, you have no idea, Rogers. But then again, you were never very good at noticing the little details, were you? Too busy playing the hero, too busy saving the world to see the knife twisting in my back. Or was it your shield?”

“Y/N…” Steve began, his tone pleading, but you cut him off with a sharp, derisive laugh.

“Save it,” you snapped, your eyes narrowing with malice. “You’re not here to save me, Steve. You’re here to soothe your guilty conscience. But don’t worry, I’ll make this easy for you—there’s nothing left to save. I’m not your little damsel in distress, waiting for her knight in shining spandex to swoop in and make everything better.”

Steve flinched at your words, the pain in his chest growing sharper with every vile sentence that left your lips. "I never saw you as someone who needed saving," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You were always strong, Y/N. You didn’t need me to be a hero for you."

"Spare me the heartfelt bullshit, Steve," you sneered, leaning forward in your chair, your eyes blazing with animosity. "You wanted to be the hero because it made you feel good, made you feel important. But where were you when I needed you? Off playing soldier, marching to the beat of your outdated ideals while I was left to rot in the dirt."

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but you didn’t give him the chance. You leaned back, your gaze cold and calculating, a twisted smile curling on your lips.

"You know," you continued, your tone almost conversational, "there’s something deeply satisfying about watching someone like you squirm. All that virtue, all that righteousness—it’s like watching a statue crumble. Beautiful, in a way. Don’t you think?"

Steve swallowed hard, his heart breaking as he listened to you tear into him with every word. But he didn’t waver. He couldn’t. "Y/N, whatever HYDRA did to you, we can fix it. We can help you."

"Help?" you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "The only thing you can do for me now is get out of my way. Or better yet, go crawl back into whatever hole you came out of and stay there. You’ve done enough damage as it is."

"HYDRA twisted you, made you into something you’re not," Steve insisted, his voice growing firmer. "This isn’t who you are."

Suddenly, your eyes flashed with a fierce intensity as you leaned forward, your voice rising, "You think you know me? You think you understand what I’ve been through !? What you put me through!?" Your hands clenched into fists as you stood up and with a surge of strength, the metal cuffs binding your wrists snapped in half, the sound echoing through the cell.

Steve instinctively went on the defensive, his hand hovering over the duress button. The sudden shift in his posture—the instinct to guard himself against you—didn’t go unnoticed.

For a moment, the room was filled with a tense silence, your breaths heavy, your eyes locked on Steve. Then, slowly, a dark, humorless laugh bubbled up from your throat, filling the space between you.

"See?" you said, your voice laced with bitterness and scorn. "You’re no different from the rest of them. The moment I show you my true strength, you recoil like I’m some kind of beast. Because that’s all you see, isn’t it? A serum-made monster.”

You plopped yourself back into the chair, pulling the metal cuffs off of your wrist like it was a piece of paper and tossed them on the table with a clatter.  

Steve’s eyes widened, shocked when you mentioned serum. "Y/N, don’t do this. You don’t have to be this person."

You stared at him for a long moment, your expression hardening. “You’re right,” you said, nodding, “I don’t have to be this person. But I choose to be. Because this world doesn’t deserve anything better.”

Steve’s heart sank as he realized just how far you had fallen, how deep the hatred and anger ran in your veins. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Sorry?” you echoed, your tone mocking. “Sorry doesn’t fix anything, Steve. Sorry doesn’t undo the years of pain, the betrayal, the lies. Sorry is just a word, a meaningless sound that people like you throw around to make themselves feel better.”

Steve stood up slowly, his movements heavy with the weight of your words. “I promised I’d always protect you,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not giving up on that promise.”

You rolled your eyes, a look of pure contempt on your face. “How noble. But I’m not the girl you promised to protect, Steve. She’s dead. And the person sitting in front of you doesn’t need your protection.”

Steve sat there, unable to move, as the weight of your words settled heavily on his shoulders. He had lost you, not just to HYDRA, but to the darkness that had taken root in your heart—a darkness that he had played a part in fostering.

“What do you want then?”

Your smile turned cold again, more sinister than before. "I want to watch this world burn. I want to see the so-called heroes fall, one by one. Starting with you."

With a heavy heart, Steve got up, seeing as there was no getting through to you. Steve’s expression hardened slightly, and as he turned to leave, he paused at the door, his hand resting on the cold metal handle. 

Without looking back, he spoke, his voice steady, “A serum, huh? Thanks for the information.” with that the door closed behind Steve with a final, echoing thud.

The smile that had been twisted in mockery only moments before now faltered, the edges softening into something more conflicted.

You had let it slip. 

You had revealed more than you intended—an error that was unlike you, and that fact alone gnawed at the edges of your mind. You had given Steve a piece of the puzzle, and that meant the game had changed.

Your lips curled back into a smirk, but it lacked the malice it once had. If Steve wanted to play the hero, to dig into the truth of what had happened to you, then let him try. Let him chase the shadows and secrets you had buried. But even as you tried to convince yourself that you still held the upper hand, the nagging doubt remained and it won't be leaving your head soon.

[baelarys]

𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐧

Aemond targaryen x Reader velaryon(rhaena Daughter)

Warning : Incest,I think that's all I can warn you.

word count : 1463(A little short but I plan to do part 2)

It felt as if something had stopped, as if something were happening, or we were waiting for it. King's Landing was not known for being peaceful; even if you were tucked away in the confines of a castle, you always perceived that environment of restless people looking for something to fill their stomachs with food.

I look expectantly out my window overlooking the city; how small it seemed from here. You could hear the roars of some dragons at the Dragonpit in the distance. Maybe I'll go flying with Cannibal later.

—It looks like it will be a quiet day, don’t you think? —I ask in a friendly manner. The maids pause for a moment, exchanging looks to see who will respond. It is not common for nobles to address them unless giving orders, and it seems they do not like to chat with us either. —I think so, princess —replied the one braiding my hair.

I leave my room heading to the library. —Good morning, sir —I greet Ser Cedric of Blackwood in a friendly manner. Ser Cedric has accompanied me since I arrived at King's Landing for my marriage to Prince Aemond, a tedious but apparently necessary union to prevent a family feud. —Good morning, princess —

––

I close the book I'm reading as I look around. The library is one of the few places in the Red Keep where there are no servants everywhere or lords and ladies of the court. My senses fill with the smell of books and humidity emanating from the thousands of books with the history of Westeros and ancient Valyria.

I get up and dust off my dress from the books, heading to the entrance to the training yard. I have not seen Aemond since last night and what is left of this morning.

I step into the training yard, where the sound of swords clashing and men training resonates in the air. In the distance, I spot Aemond, the prince I married for political reasons. He looks focused, handling his sword with grace and strength. I approach with a steady step, trying not to interrupt his practice.

Aemond is no longer the shy, withdrawn boy he once was. He remains quiet, but will speak if necessary. We are not the most affectionate with each other, but we have been friends since childhood; we got along well, played together, and shared lessons, spending much time together until that night in White Harbor, where he lost his eye and claimed Vhagar. He became more confident and his interest in swords and political matters grew, unlike Aegon, whose interest in women and alcohol distracts him from his duties.

—wife —Aemond Greeting after finishing a training session and approaching me along with Ser Criston Cole, a Kingsguard, with his usual hateful look. —Princess —he said with a slight bow.

—To what do I owe your lovely presence here? —Aemond asked ironically, with that haughty look, something common in him.

—I haven't seen you since this morning, I wondered where you were —I replied calmly as we walked back inside the castle. —Do you want to have breakfast with me? It seems today will be a quiet day —I ask cheerfully. It is not common for us to do things together besides our marital duties, but sometimes his company is comforting.

The morning sun casts a golden light over the castle gardens as we enjoy our breakfast in a quiet corner. Aemond and I talk about memories from our childhood, carefully avoiding any mention of the incident at White Harbor that could sour our conversation.

At that moment, a nursemaid approaches with Maegor in her arms. His platinum, curly hair is a constant reminder of his Valyrian heritage. Aemond and I exchange smiles upon seeing our son, whose gray eyes shine with curiosity as he looks around.

—Come here, love! —I exclaim affectionately, extending my arms to receive him. The little one wriggles with excitement and stretches his arms toward me, eager to be in my embrace.

Aemond watches with pride and affection as Maegor settles in my arms. —He looks more and more like you —he comments with a smile, gently stroking our son's head. —And he has your eyes —I respond with a smile, admiring Maegor's curls as he plays with my necklace.

I walk towards Helaena's room with Maegor in my arms. The guards open the doors to the room, revealing the pattern of greens and golds characteristic of the Hightower family adorning the marble walls, illuminated by the sunlight streaming through the windows. And there she is, as calm and kind as always.

Helaena was beautiful, with the silver hair so distinctive of them and the beautiful sky-blue eyes.

I place Maegor on the floor next to the twins, gently caressing their heads. I slowly approach, with soft steps, watching Helaena as her hands moved gracefully over the embroidery. The sunlight made her silver hair shine even more, and her blue eyes reflected an inner peace that had always fascinated me.

—Aunt Helaena —I said in a low tone, almost whispering, not to startle her. She looked up from her work, blinking slowly before giving a warm, gentle smile.

—Y/N, what a pleasant surprise —she responded softly, her words flowing like a calm melody. Her fingers never stopped moving over the embroidery, creating the image of a spider with almost magical precision.

I sat next to her, admiring the skill of her hands and the calm she radiated. Helaena always seemed to be in a world of her own, a place where time passed at a different pace. —You are embroidering a spider today. Does it have any special meaning? —I asked, knowing that each of her creations carried a hidden message. Helaena nodded slowly, her gaze becoming distant, as if she were seeing beyond the walls of the room.

—Spiders weave their webs, Y/N. They catch what approaches carelessly. Sometimes, what seems insignificant can have a great impact —she said in a dreamy tone. Her response left me thoughtful. Helaena had a unique way of seeing the world, always finding connections and hidden meanings in the everyday.

—Is something troubling you, Lena? —I asked, trying to decipher the message behind her words. She looked at me intently, her blue eyes reflecting something deep and mysterious. —The future is always in motion. There are pieces moving on the board that we cannot see yet —she said, her voice like a whisper. I nodded, feeling the weight of her words. Helaena always had a gift for seeing beyond the obvious, and her predictions were both a warning and a comfort.

She directed her gaze to the children playing quietly on the floor, surrounded by nursemaids. —It is nice to have children in the castle, don't you think? It's fun —she said cheerfully.

Helaena placed her embroidery on her lap for a moment, her gaze calm but loaded with meaning. Her blue eyes met mine with complicity before she spoke. —I heard that your mother will be coming to King's Landing soon —Helaena said softly, as if sharing an exciting secret.

My eyes lit up with joy at the news. Rhaenyra, my mother, always unpredictable and full of energy, would undoubtedly bring her own dose of excitement to the castle.

—Really? How wonderful to hear! What brings her back? —I asked, excited at the prospect of reuniting with her again in the capital.

Helaena gently took my hand, transmitting a mix of calm and anticipation. —There have been rumors about the heir to the Driftmark throne. Ser Vaemond Velaryon is the one who started the whole matter —she explained, with a serene smile. I felt confused; Lucerys is supposed to be the heir to Driftmark, my grandfather, Ser Corlys Velaryon said so. Although it was naive to think such a problem wouldn't arise, Lucerys does not possess any characteristic features of the Velaryons; thick, dark, curly hair replaces the platinum hair of ancient Valyria.

—I understand, Lena. We will be ready to welcome her with open arms —I responded enthusiastically.

Helaena nodded, her gaze returning to the embroidery that lay on her lap, as the afternoon sun painted golden highlights in her silver hair. The atmosphere in the room became serene and welcoming again.

[spookyserenades]

Trouvaille - Chapter Thirteen

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count; 16.9k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Hi loves! A little late on this New Year update, but I' m happy to be able to share Chapter Thirteen with you all! This is a fluffy, sweet update, with a side of angst and a little spiciness I hope you all had lovely holidays, and have the best 2024. As always, I love to hear what you all think of these updates, and again, thank you for your patience with this update. Lots of love from Dana! 💕

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Steadying her breaths, Y/N slid the skirt fabric of her cranberry-colored velvet dress between her fingertips, shuddering involuntarily as another family came through the front door of the rec center, bringing an icy blast of outside air into the lobby. In her other hand, she had some sort of wintery champagne cocktail, a sprig of rosemary tickling the tip of her nose every time she took a sip from the fluted glass. Compared to Taehyung’s previous photography expo, there were twice as many people. It was during the inky evening, and everyone was dressed up in their holiday finery– jazzy Christmas music filling the festive space. Currently, she was standing by herself towards the back of the room, breaking away from Taehyung to get a fresh drink, and to collect her thoughts. 

As if on cue, a shiver rolled down her spine delicately, her eyes catching sync with a pair of narrowed, sharp, golden-green eyes from across the joyfully decorated room, all of the breath being forcibly withdrawn from her lungs. Everything around her turned to a blur; her cheeks had flames licking at the flesh, and her heart swelled three times its size behind her ribcage. Ever-so-subtly, Yoongi lifted his champagne flute a few centimeters into the air in acknowledgement, sending a smirk and a wink her way. 

Y/N felt the flush in her cheeks heat up the back of her neck, too, cutting the chill that was periodically blowing into the room. She nervously cast a wide-sweeping glance around the room, paranoid that someone had caught the brief, but charged interaction– but amongst the sea of dozens of hybrids and their families, she couldn’t spot any of her other six boys. Which was odd, no doubt, considering their clinginess or the fact that at least one of them was always hanging out around the minibar.

She visually located the leopard hybrid once again, his focus still on her with great amusement all over his delicate face, and Y/N allowed herself to fully take in her love’s appearance leisurely, now that she was sure she wasn’t being carefully watched by one of the others. 

Apart from his sparkling, sharp feline eyes, his hair was tucked behind his ears meticulously in feathered pitch-dark, shoulder length waves, showing off several shiny silver hoops threaded through his earlobes. His spotted ears, of course, perked up and alert as if trying to listen for her shallow breaths from where he leaned against the wall by the bathrooms, his elegant figure on display in the black satin button down he was in. Dragging her eyes down his body slowly, meaningfully, she subconsciously bit down on her lip as she soaked in the way his dress pants hugged his slim legs, the way one of his strong, talented hands was tucked into a pocket, before her once-over returned back to Yoongi’s stunning face, fixated on the fullness of his mouth. 

At once, she remembered the way his lips felt against her own. First sweet, ripe with fulfillment– then turning feverish, desperate, wanting. Instinctively, perhaps, Yoongi’s tongue flicked out to moisten the flesh of his lower lip, Y/N recalling how it felt to have it gliding against her own, and before she could get too lost in that memory, she promptly snapped out of it and shot Yoongi a stubborn scowl. He was teasing her on purpose, she knew it.

Turning on the heel of her black pumps, Y/N tried her best to rein in her lewd thoughts by stuffing a Christmas cookie into her mouth, nearly choking on the dryness of it. It was probably high time for her to go and find Taehyung again, anyways, and with her and Yoongi’s relationship status both still murky and very much a secret, she didn’t want to risk getting too close to the leopard hybrid that night. Not when she felt like pushing him into the nearest supply closet to kiss the wind out of him. 

“Darling, pass me one of those gingerbread dudes, will you?” Y/N flinched in total shock when she felt a clever palm slide across her upper back and settle on one of her shoulder blades, the clean, outdoorsy scent of Hoseok filling her senses and making her stiffen awkwardly. 

Wordlessly, Y/N plucked a cookie off of the platter, peering upwards and sideways as she offered it to her fox hybrid as normally as she could. As if she wasn’t just thinking about Yoongi’s tongue down her throat. 

Hoseok’s brilliant cocoa eyes were glittering mischievously, all of the multicolored lights decked around the room making his wavy mahogany hair seem more auburn than ever. He, like Yoongi, was dressed smartly, a stark difference to his typical athleisure. A simple white button down, an even simpler sporty charcoal blazer, and matching dress pants. Hoseok did have some funky, embellished loafers on, however, true to his tendencies to pick out flashy or colorful statement pieces for his wardrobe. He looked amazing– sexy, dangerously so. 

“You see Tae-tae’s pictures yet?” Hoseok asked over a bite of cookie, leaning his hip against the minibar and glancing around the room. ‘Tae-tae’ was a sort of condescending nickname Hoseok had begun to use in reference to the Kodiak hybrid, but Y/N secretly found it kind of cute. 

“No, I haven’t. He said he wanted to make sure they put up the right frames and set it up the way he wanted it before he showed me,” Y/N reached up to adjust the slightly-askew collar of Hoseok’s dress shirt, her icy fingertips brushing over the golden skin of the base of his throat, the fox hybrid shivering almost imperceptibly at the contact. 

Still, with her focus on Hoseok, she could feel Yoongi’s eyes lingering on her burning holes into the back of her head. And as if Hoseok could read her mind, he cleared his throat, Y/N focusing back on the pools of caramel swirling around in the fox hybrid’s irises; inquisitive, intelligent, and kind. 

“So, how are things? You know, with… Yoongi?” Hoseok purposefully whispered the leopard hybrid’s name, though Y/N had no doubt that even then, Yoongi was likely completely dialed into what her and Hoseok were talking about it. Y/N winced, remembering the brief text conversation she had with Hoseok nearly a week ago. 

On her nightstand, where she had left it, her phone chimed, making her flinch and swear. Blindly reaching for it, still a little hazy from the scenting and makeout session, she unlocked her phone, only to feel dread wash over her as she read the text that she received.

Hoseok 🦊: What the hell is going on with you and Yoongi? 

Y/N: um, what do you mean?

Heart racing, Y/N felt nausea welling up in her gut as she watched three little dots appear on her screen, Hoseok speedily crafting a response. Everything that happened between her and Yoongi was in the music room, which was professionally soundproofed, but there was an off-chance that Hoseok might have caught them in the hall in front of her bedroom moments ago– and if that was the case, they would be screwed. 

Hoseok 🦊: Idk, things seem weird between you guys. Tense

Hoseok 🦊: Did you have a fight or something???

Y/N let out a breath that could blow down a house. So, Hoseok hadn’t caught her and Yoongi red-handed before they could figure out how to explain their… changed relationship dynamic. Once again, she had raced to conclusions. Y/N had been an idiot not to realize that the other hybrids definitely picked up on the odd distance her and Yoongi were suspended in. 

Y/N: Yeah, I guess we had a few disagreements recently. I talked to him tonight though, we’ve patched everything up

Hoseok 🦊: Oh, good! I don’t like seeing you so sad 🥺

Hoseok 🦊: and Yoongi’s cooking has been bland or bitter lately. Even the coffee sucks

Y/N: you could always do the cooking you know, honey

Y/N: thank you for worrying about me Hoseok 🦊💕

Y/N bit her still kiss-swollen lower lip thinking about her fox hybrid, probably cozy in his bed in the basement, the space heater no doubt blasting, sleepily texting her to make sure she was okay after her piano lesson with Yoongi. Contrary to Hoseok’s teasing nature, he was always looking out for Y/N in his own way. It made her feel warm all over, as she reached for her nightstand to switch off her lamp, when her phone chimed again– this time, a message from a different sender. 

Yoongi 👼🏻: sleep well.

Y/N: love you, angel 

Yoongi 👼🏻: I love you too, my silly girl

“Earth to Y/N,” Hoseok chuckled, squeezing the meat of one of her cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, Y/N realizing that she had been staring at the fox hybrid’s neck absently while she got lost in her thoughts. “Where did you just go?”

Using a gentle tap on his wrist to bat Hoseok’s hand away from her heated cheeks, she snapped back to the present, cocking her head and resuming her task of fixing the collar of his shirt. 

“I’m right here, honey,” Y/N murmured, trying to figure out how to either dodge his earlier question or figure out how to dance around the truth. “Everything’s fine now. Haven’t you noticed he hasn’t burnt the coffee lately?”

Hoseok snorted, hands shooting out to wiggle his fingers against her ribcage, tickling her sides and making her giggle in response. Concern dissolved from Hoseok’s eyes at the sound, one of his russet ears flickering playfully, relenting on his tickling attack by hooking one of his elbows around Y/N’s. 

“Let’s look around. I think Jinnie misses you,” Hoseok changed the subject, dropping his serious demeanor and going right back to his default cheeriness with that whistle tone of his. 

“Oh really? You didn’t miss me at all, just Seokjinnie?” Y/N teased, feeling Hoseok’s full tail brush the back of her thighs through her tights. “Here I was, missing you, and you just came to ferry me over to someone else!”

Again, Hoseok snorted, though Y/N could swear a peachy blush bloomed across his cheekbones. 

“You know, darling, you’re getting better and better at flirting these days. Maybe you’ll be on my level in a few months,” Hoseok quipped, making Y/N use their hooked elbows to nudge his side in embarrassment. 

“Who said I was flirting?” Y/N mumbled, under her breath and to no one in particular. 

Hoseok whistled again, towing her along as they weaved through the crowd of hybrids and their families. Amongst the sea of bodies in the room, the only other hybrid of hers that Y/N could spot was Jeongguk, who’s antlers were visible towards the front door of the rec center. Y/N suspected he was attempting to sneak out for a smoke. 

Hoseok dragged her to a corner of the room, near another table full of Christmas cookies and cocktails, where Seokjin and Jimin were lingering with little cups of alcoholic eggnog. Both of them, of course, looked impossibly handsome, their ears immediately perking up as they no doubt caught Y/N’s scent. 

Seokjin turned first, dressed in a navy suit Y/N helped him pick out to compliment his fiery eyes, a few buttons of his cream-colored oxford shirt undone at the top to accommodate the wideness of his chest. Y/N discovered that finding shirts that fit the jaguar hybrid’s frame was rather challenging– one size would be too baggy for his trim waist, and another not quite large enough for his broad shoulders. Despite that, however, he always managed to look absolutely perfect. 

Seokjin was grinning, his cheeks rosy from the eggnog, his eyes dragging up and down Y/N’s form in a way that had her squirming under his scrutiny. It was all she could do earlier to talk him off a ledge when she came out of her room in a dress, and not swaddled up in ski wear. Now, with alcohol flooding through him… his gaze was a bit more heated as opposed to disapproving. 

Jimin, on the other hand, was mid-sip of his drink, nodding in acknowledgement as her and Hoseok appeared in front of him, looking sharp in a classic black suit and brand-new shiny loafers. The coyote hybrid even broke out some of the jewelry he had brought with him from Montana; silver bracelets and hoop earrings, the holiday lights glinting off of them. Seeing Jimin so dressed up had her feeling dizzy, as his usual uniform was rugged blue jeans and well-worn tee shirts so he could comfortably take care of the animals in the stable. As if he could read her mind, Jimin winked at her, setting his empty glass down on the table with a wry smirk. 

“Uh, has anyone seen Tae in the last fifteen minutes? I still haven’t seen his photos, he disappeared on me,” Y/N cleared her throat, overwhelmed by the three incredibly handsome, incredibly well-dressed hybrids surrounding her like a pack of wolves. 

Seokjin shook his head with a pout, probably thinking that he had somehow disappointed her by not having information, and Hoseok had busied himself by stacking more cookies onto his cocktail napkin. Really, the only one who actually warmed up to Taehyung was Yoongi, and Y/N wasn’t about to seek out the leopard hybrid when fantasies of him were still running rampant in her mind. 

“I just saw him a moment ago, talking to the club leader. He had a big frame under his arm, I think he was likely swapping it out for another,” Jimin lifted his nose in the air and took a delicate inhale, Y/N wondering if he was trying to locate Taehyung by scent. 

“Tae-tae will come out of the woodwork when he’s ready. I wouldn’t dare try and find him before he’s ready, remember the time you walked by him editing photos on your laptop? I thought he was going to have a stroke, ‘they’re not done yet!’,” Hoseok mimicked Taehyung’s deep voice, a playful look on his face as Y/N rolled her eyes. 

“Even if you’re being an ass about it, you’re right,” Y/N admitted, glancing around the room once more to try and see if she could spot Namjoon or Jeongguk. “Looks like Joonie’s hiding from me too.”

“No he’s not. He’s just in the bathroom,” Hoseok took Y/N’s empty champagne from her, replacing it with a new one. Ever since Halloween, Hoseok had made quite impressive progress in being able to hang around Namjoon without flinching or blanching. “The elk is the one you have to worry about. He might hotwire your car to get out of here, he’s been adjusting his suit all night like it’s giving him a rash.”

“He doesn’t even know how to drive, Hoseok,” Y/N grumbled, though the thought had crossed her mind. “You’re gonna get a stomach ache if you eat all those cookies, by the way.”

“I’m just making sure I eat enough calories for my meet!” Hoseok exclaimed, green-and-red sprinkles stuck to the corners of his mouth as his eyes went wide. 

“Your next meet is in four days,” Seokjin pointed out helpfully, Hoseok nearly choking on his bite of frosted sugar cookie. “You don’t need to be carb-loading now.”

“Jinnie, at least you know my schedule,” Hoseok clapped a hand over Seokjin’s back, making the jaguar hybrid nearly spill his eggnog all over the front of Y/N’s dress, causing him to hiss sharply. 

“Quit doing that! I almost ruined her pretty dress,” Seokjin yanked on one of Hoseok’s triangular ears, a yelp coming from Hoseok pitifully. Y/N, however, was too busy bashfully staring down at her dress that Seokjin apparently thought was pretty. 

“You two better cut it out, or we’re going to get thrown out,” Jimin rolled his eyes, pushing honey hair off of his face with disdain. If there was one thing the coyote hybrid couldn’t stand, it was the others drawing unnecessary attention to themselves. 

 Snapping out of her daze, she herded the three hybrids away from the refreshments table and the cocked eyebrows of several onlookers, one hand on Jimin’s back and the other around Seokjin’s bicep, mindful of the drinks in their hands. 

“So, when do you think we can get out of here? I miss my sweats,” Hoseok leaned against a cinderblock wall, eyes narrowed on photographs on display across from him; a collection of landscape photos by a young calico hybrid girl, who was proudly showing her work to her family. 

“That’s up to Tae. We’re staying as long as he wants,” Y/N again tried to find Taehyung in the busy room, and finally spotted him over in the corner where his work was in his last expo.

He appeared pensive, hands tucked into the pockets of his emerald green velvet suit jacket, eyebrows pulled together as he bent low to stare at one of his pictures. Instead of catching him off guard and peeking at his pictures before they were ready, Y/N fished her phone she had tucked away in Seokjin’s suit pocket for safekeeping, smiling softly at the startled purr he responded with. 

Y/N: I’m sure they look beautiful, can we see them now?

Taehyung paused, probably feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket, lowering his eyes from the framed pictures on the wall to check his phone. A whisper of a secret grin formed on his lips, his wild dark curls covering the upper part of his face as he began to type out a response.

Tae 🐻: Okay, they’re ready. They put everything in the wrong order and frames, that’s why it took so long for me to fix

Y/N: Heading over to you now, can’t wait!

“Thanks for holding onto this for me, honey,” Y/N handed her phone back to Seokjin, who promptly tucked it back into his suit pocket, shaking his head as if to say ‘don’t mention it’. “Tae said he’s ready, should we check out his pictures?”

Hoseok began muttering, still not entirely warm and fuzzy towards the Kodiak hybrid, but followed her, Seokjin, and Jimin to Taehyung awaiting them. Along the way, she was able to snag Jeongguk by his shirt cuff– he had managed to ditch his sport jacket and was just in his black button down. 

“What, did you go to the car and leave your jacket in there when you went out to smoke? Won’t you be cold later?” Y/N scolded, tugging on his cuff with a reproachful look. Jeongguk simply scoffed, but allowed her to drag him across the room. 

“You keep forgetting we run hotter than you do,” Jeongguk responded, using his free hand to flick her forehead softly, something he seemed to really enjoy doing lately. 

She knew she didn’t have to call out for Namjoon or Yoongi. The former would appear when he wanted, considering he and Taehyung were still not the friendliest to each other, and Yoongi would always show up when she thought of him– as if they had some sort of telepathy that connected them. For all Y/N knew, perhaps they did, stranger things had happened in her life. 

Thinking of the devil, her leopard hybrid slunk from the shadows, meeting her and the others by the window where Taehyung was waiting. Yoongi offered her a private side-eye, taking his time giving her a once-over. While the others weren’t looking, she mouthed ‘stop that’ to him, before promptly tearing her attention from him in order to put it all on Taehyung. Breaking free from Seokjin and Hoseok, Y/N approached Taehyung with an excited expression, already reaching out to hook one of her arms around his waist. 

“Mm, you look nice in this color, Tae,” Y/N murmured lowly, using her fingertips to brush along the soft velvet of his suit jacket. Indeed, the dark green brought out the deep red in his eyes, and complimented the honeyed shade of his skin. 

Taehyung leaned into her embrace, chuckling softly at her compliment. Y/N was too preoccupied soaking in every microexpression and how beautiful he looked to immediately take a look at his pictures on the wall, enjoying the scent of sandalwood mingling with fruity champagne that was coming off of Taehyung so temptingly. 

“We don’t have to stay for much longer, I know Foxy wants to leave…” Taehyung said, in his signature whispery voice; a private moment between the two of them. 

“We leave whenever you’re ready, Tae! Don’t listen to Hoseok, he just likes to whine,” Y/N frowned, pinching Tae’s side for emphasis. Behind her and to the left a little ways away, she heard Hoseok squawking in disbelief. “Okay, I’m dying to know what your photos look like!”

Clearing his throat, Taehyung took a step forward, Y/N slightly stumbling along as her arm was still linked around his waist. It was then when she could get a long-awaited look at Taehyung’s work, which was lit up with twinkling Christmas lights draped around the partition wall the frames were fastened to. 

Y/N didn’t know what to focus on first. Compared to his previous expos, where there were only about four to six images on display, there were eight rather large prints on the wall this time, all arranged in a circle around a ninth photograph, the largest of all. Taking a breath, Y/N released her hold on Taehyung to edge a step nearer. 

The photo in the center was one of their house, taken recently at night, by the looks of it. Leaves of the willow trees were stripped bare, and the grass in front of the porch frosty and crystallized. Though the picture of the house was in black and white, it was still apparent that most of the lights in the house were on– Y/N could see Yoongi’s and Jimin’s bedroom lamps on, and the chandelier in the foyer was visible. Even the Christmas lights and garland wrapped around the porch and pillars could be detected, and the home looked merry and festive, full of life. It reminded her, compared to how it looked through Taehyung’s lens, of how she had longed the house to be so lived-in only days before she actually adopted any of the hybrids. 

It seemed that Taehyung really loved their home. He always managed to sneak a picture of it into his presentation at the expo, and each time it made her chest squeeze with an emotion she could not match to the sensation. Blindly, she extended her hand backwards, searching for Taehyung, and his broad palm immediately slipped into her grasp. 

The other pictures were all portraits of himself, the other six hybrids, and Y/N, and each portrait was in a horizontal frame– a black and white outtake of each of them when Taehyung took their ID photos, and a colored candid directly next to it. At the top of the circle around the house was Y/N’s set of pictures; the ID outtake of her looking sheepish, hand over her chest as Hoseok’s hand in the frame was pulling a flyaway hair out of her berry lip gloss. The colored one, in juxtaposition, was Y/N slightly slumped over her morning cup of coffee, dressed in her Stevie Nicks-type clothing before she headed off to work, completely unaware that Taehyung was snapping pictures of her. 

Y/N had grown used to Taehyung taking pictures of her by now, so she wasn’t totally surprised that she was part of his expo. That said, she still couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed that she was on display, and that all of her hybrids were completely ignoring their own portraits to point and exclaim at Y/N’s. Taehyung squeezed her hand gently, and Y/N pretended she didn’t care what the others were saying about her portrait, and instead studied the others. 

Y/N had already seen the ID outtakes of the other hybrids, as she had helped Taehyung pick the best ones out to send in for the physical copies of the IDs, but she delighted in seeing them again, and was even more fascinated by the candids she hadn’t seen before. Jimin’s candid was him in the backyard, riding Vista around the exercise pen at sunset with a carefree expression, the colors of gold and orange warming her up from the inside out. Below him was Hoseok, grinning wryly at someone off-camera after an afternoon run, a sweat towel around his neck and a water bottle clutched in his hand– Y/N could practically hear the picture. Next was Jeongguk, though the picture taken of him was from behind, and apparently by Taehyung positioned at the threshold of Jeongguk’s bedroom door. Only a hint of Jeongguk’s side profile was visible, a cigarette poised between his lips as he leaned over his balcony, eyelashes almost brushing his cheek as he read from his journal. 

“Little voyeuristic of you to stand in my room taking pictures of me, don’t you think, bear?” Jeongguk lifted a pierced brow, scrunching up his nose in an accusatory manner. 

“It’s not like you didn’t hear or smell me standing there. You could have told me to fuck off,” Taehyung responded blandly, Y/N extremely surprised that he used such language in a public setting. Jeongguk, too, seemed somewhat impressed that Taehyung challenged him back. 

At the bottom of the circle were Taehyung’s self-portraits. Instead of taking a picture of himself in the mirror like he had for his very first expo, his “candid” was one of Taehyung laying on his side in the music room on the floor, headphones on, listening to his record collection. From the angle that the photo was taken, Y/N figured he had placed his camera on top of the turntable. It was a lovely picture of him, the soft mid-morning light filtering in from the windows and striking one of his eyes just so that the viewer of the image could pick up on the carmine hue of his irises. 

“These are really gorgeous, Tae,” Y/N felt her throat grow thick, emotions beginning to overwhelm her as she examined picture after picture of her boys. “How did you come up with this idea?”

Y/N waited for Taehyung’s response while she moved onto Yoongi’s pictures, her heart skipping a beat or two. Pressing a hand to her mouth to contain her grin, she realized that in Yoongi’s candid– which was of him putting away groceries in the pantry– half of her body was in the frame, handing Yoongi boxes of sugary cereal Namjoon favored. Yoongi looked soft, in loungewear that he typically donned to the grocery store. 

“We were given a theme to work with…” Taehyung said ambiguously, waiting for Y/N to soak in every photograph and figure it out on her own, perhaps. 

The final two, Seokjin and Namjoon, might have been her favorites. The eldest hybrid’s photo was him curled up in the breakfast nook with a copy of Pride and Prejudice, his tail wrapped around his waist, and a steaming cup of coffee in one of his hands. Y/N was fond of the particular expression Seokjin was wearing in that photograph, deep concentration and immersion with his thick eyebrows pulled together, hair mussed off of his forehead because he’d play with it while he read.

Finally, to the left of Y/N’s portraits on the top of the circle was Namjoon’s, and in stark difference to his stern-looking ID outtake, he was all soft edges and dimples in the colored photograph. It was the only picture that Y/N remembered Taehyung actually taking, as it was right over her shoulder while her and Namjoon were in the middle of a chess match, the fireplace roaring behind Namjoon while he kicked her ass yet again. Considering Taehyung and Namjoon still barely tolerated one another past a begrudging “good morning” every now and again, the picture perfectly encapsulated how much Namjoon could soften around others when his guard was down. 

By then, Y/N was on the verge of tears, so overcome with love for each of her hybrids that she couldn’t help but turn on her heel to face-plant directly into Taehyung’s chest, squeezing him until an animalistic wheeze came from the depths of his lungs. 

“Y/N, did you see the picture he took of me? I should make that my Instagram profile picture, what do you think?” Hoseok crowed from behind her, no doubt clocking how attractive he looked in it. “I’m glad you didn’t pick that other one for my ID, though. My left ear was drooping.”

Y/N was too busy pressing her face further into Taehyung’s silky black button-down, squashing down tears as best she could. She always bought Taehyung’s prints after an expo, but all she wanted then and there was to pull each frame off of the wall and squirrel them off to her car like a bandit. In her head, she could see all of the pictures lining the walls up the stairwell…

“She okay?” Namjoon joined the clump of them standing around Taehyung’s exhibit, his voice beside her and Taehyung as she held onto the Kodiak hybrid for dear life. 

Taehyung grunted in response, one of his hands smoothing down the back of her head soothingly, though she could feel his chest rumbling in what she assumed was minor amusement. 

“She’s just sappy,” Yoongi helpfully volunteered, his gravelly voice sounding bored and a bit distant. Last time she caught him out of the corner of her eye, he was leaning against the window a few feet from everyone else. 

“Oh! All of your subjects are here, Taehyung?” A new voice joined the conversation, Y/N recognizing it as the woman who ran the hybrid photography club. Vaguely mortified, Y/N pulled herself together enough to release Taehyung and face the woman, who was admiring the photos of Y/N, her hybrids, and their home. “You’ve improved so much these past couple of months. Your exhibit turned out wonderfully– sorry about the frame mixup, by the way. Lost in translation!”

Taehyung simply shook his head, his neck flushing with all of the attention on him, one of his fists bunched up in the fabric of Y/N’s dress, right where her waist met her hip. 

“So, did you tell them the theme of tonight’s expo?” The woman prompted, smiling warmly at Taehyung like she was more than used to his quiet, reserved nature. 

“I think he likes for us to guess,” Hoseok piped up, biting his tongue mischievously as Jimin lightly stepped on his foot with an agitated twitch to his sandy ear. 

“No guesses?” The woman placidly asked, folding her plum-polished fingers delicately around her champagne flute. Taehyung stiffened beside Y/N as if to brace himself, and both her and most of the hybrids either shrugged or shook their heads. 

“Well, the theme was family, of course! Of home!”

Y/N thought she might have squeaked out a surprised ‘oh’, but she couldn’t be sure with the ringing in her ears as she processed that very significant scrap of information. She wasn’t the only flabbergasted one, every other hybrid had varying levels of disbelief and pure shock on their faces. Taehyung wasn’t one to be brotherly with the rest of them, in fact he usually avoided interacting with them if he could, so for the Kodiak hybrid to include them in a family-themed exhibit was dumbfounding, though incredibly sweet. 

“Here I was, thinking it was expectations versus reality,” Hoseok broke the stunned silence, always the one to bounce back immediately when something unexpected unfolded. 

The group leader snorted over the rim of her champagne glass, Taehyung’s posture loosening up once the tension was broken, Y/N composing herself once more by allowing a giggle to escape at Hoseok’s remark, once again grateful for the fox hybrid’s ability to bring ease into any sort of situation. 

“Oh dear! I forgot to check up on how much champagne we have in the back room. I think we may have underestimated how many people would enjoy the signature cocktail,” the woman interrupted the somewhat-awkward giggling amongst her, Hoseok, and Seokjin, though Y/N had a suspicion she was making something up so she could let them all have a private moment. “Enjoy the rest of the expo!”

With that, she disappeared into the festive crowd, and Y/N began staring lovingly at Taehyung’s pictures once more. Some of her boys took that as their cue to be dismissed, Namjoon and Jeongguk fading into the masses of people in search of a fresh cocktail, Hoseok, Jimin, and Seokjin moving on to check out other exhibits. Yoongi had long since evaporated as soon as the awkward giggling began minutes prior, Y/N managing to catch him heading towards the bathroom with a hand over his mouth to hide his amusement. 

So, she was left with just Taehyung in front of his photos, suddenly at a loss at what to say to him, if anything at all. 

“Um… sorry. She can be a little corny,” Taehyung murmured, Y/N craning her neck to meet Taehyung’s eyes once he spoke. Snorting, she nudged Taehyung’s hip with her own. 

“Actually, she reminds me a bit of my mom. I guess she can be corny, too, though,” Y/N admitted, watching Taehyung step in front of her and block her view of the pictures on the wall. 

“You really like them? You don’t think anyone minded that I displayed pictures of them, do you?” Taehyung asked vulnerably, a subtle pout jutting out his lower lip as he made eye contact with her intensely. 

“I don’t think anyone was upset, no! I mean, you know Jeongguk. He was just being a smartass, as per usual,” Y/N put both of her hands on Taehyung’s shoulders, brushing off imaginary dust in an attempt to relax his tensed muscles. “They turned out beautifully. I love them, Tae.”

“Do you want to bring these copies home? The club leader said I could take them,” Taehyung asked shyly, apparently convinced by her words of encouragement. 

“Absolutely. I’m going to hang them up as soon as we get them back home,” Y/N replied cheerily, squeezing his shoulders for emphasis. Home. Their home. 

Taehyung then grinned, wide and splitting his breathtaking face in two, Y/N sliding one of her hands from his shoulder to his forehead, brushing his curls out of his eyes, going as far as tucking it back so his entire forehead was exposed. Taehyung eagerly leaned into the touch, and Y/N imagined if his tail was long like some of the other hybrid’s, it would be wagging back and forth happily. 

“Ah, I’m excited to go home now. It’s too crowded in here,” Taehyung spoke with his eyes shut, cheek smushed into Y/N’s palm. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Mm-hmm. Can we go now?”

Y/N rocked upwards as much as her high-heels could allow, placing a gentle kiss on Taehyung’s cheek that she wasn’t cradling in her palm, pulling away swiftly with a goofy grin. In the wake of the kiss, left behind was Taehyung gawking, and a stamp of berry-colored lip gloss in the shape of her lips on his cheek. 

“Help me get these down from the wall, and we’ll head home, okay Tae?”

“Wait. The painfully shy one, the bear, is okay with a bunch of us coming over on his birthday? We can always postpone, make it a New Year’s party instead,” Alice, over Facetime with a sheet mask over her face disguising her utter disbelief, squawked. 

“I mean, that was my suggestion to him, too. Obviously everyone is busy on Christmas Eve– Ben and Roy with Daisy, and obviously you with little Kai, Laura,” Y/N had her phone propped up on a sack of flour in the kitchen, the morning of December 23rd, on her weekly 3-way call with the Santos twins. “But he was the one who insisted everyone come over on the 30th. I almost keeled over.”

“He must be getting more comfortable around everyone, Y/N! That’s really great, I’m happy for him,” Laura exclaimed, her eyes sparkling as she wrote something down in her day planner– probably organizing talking points for her next family vlog. 

“It’s either that, or he’s too considerate. I mean, ever since his photography expo a week ago, it’s been non-stop last minute gift shopping, wrapping, decorating, and baking. I think if I were hosting a party tomorrow, I’d go insane.”

“Aw, so he probably noticed you’ve got a lot going on. He’s a sweetheart, huh?” Alice cooed, Y/N clapping excess flour off of her hands as she nodded in agreement. She was elbow-deep in gingerbread at the moment, and she was pretty sure she had flour in places that were unspeakable. 

“You guys have your tree up already, right? Namjoon and Jeongguk helped me drag the box with ours in it last week. Let me tell you, it’s so much easier to have two 170-pound men help you lug that thing up from the basement rather than my two possibly anemic cousins,” Y/N snorted, recalling how easily the wolf and elk hybrids carried the comically ginormous box containing the fake Christmas tree up the basement stairs. 

“Are you trying to brag right now?” Alice accused, her eyebrow visibly cocked even under the facemask that covered her expression. “We get it. They’re hunky.”

“Shhh! Alice!” Laura hissed with embarrassment while looking up from her planner, Y/N simply waving her hand in the air at the comment. 

“Don’t sweat it, Laura. Everyone’s out. My mom took them Christmas shopping in her minivan about an hour ago,” Y/N airly chuckled, the mental image of her mother shepherding each of her boys into a crumpled little van that morning to take them to the local mall. For what, she could hardly guess. 

“You’re lucky your mom is obsessed with hybrids,” Alice said, going back to applying red varnish on her nails. 

“I’m lucky that she got them out of my hair long enough to wrap the stockpile of gifts I have hidden in the fucking attic,” Y/N countered, blowing hair out of her face as she slid the last sheet of gingerbread into the oven. “I love them, but my god. Up my ass like a window shade lately.”

“It’s because you’ve been sneaking around with gifts like the goddamn Grinch! What, did you need a crowbar to pry open the attic door? Did you find the ghost of Paul Revere up there?” Alice exclaimed, as if the reason for the hybrid’s increased clinginess was due to her making excuses to go up to the attic through Seokjin’s room routinely. 

“That would be sick, actually. It is fucking creepy up there, though. I might get Jeongguk to help me sort through all of the junk up there in the spring, just in case there’s a demon hiding in my grandmother’s old hat collection,” Y/N relished in the sound of Laura’s lilting laugh, something she found she missed more than anything those days. “So, what is Santa bringing for Kai, Laur?”

“Oh, Santa is bringing him one of those plastic play-kitchens. You know, with the fake food and little bowls and whatnot. A tricycle, too, which I fear might mark up my floors until Tyler can bring him outside in the spring to ride it around the block,” Laura played along, toying with one of the braids skimming her collar bones. “He’s going to be three next year, so no more rattles…”

“My little nephew!” Alice pouted pitifully, pretending to blink away tears at the camera. “He’s growing so fast, soon Auntie Alice will be taking him for his first driving lesson.”

“Dear god, anyone but you,” Laura scoffed, looking horrified. “Love you, Al, but you’re not the first person I’d pick to show him how to parallel park.”

The girls continued to chat for 10 more minutes, until Y/N pulled the last batch of gingerbread men out of the oven and set them on a cooling rack. It was about time for her to tackle wrapping the rest of the boy’s presents and stick them under the tree before they returned from the mall with her mother. After shooting off a few texts to people she wanted to have over for the Christmas party/Taehyung’s birthday, Y/N began shuffling back and forth between the attic and the wrapping station she had set up in the parlor, quickly beginning to sweat between the flannel of her festive pajamas and the blazing fire in the room she was wrapping gifts in. 

There was no way to tell how much time had passed, as Y/N had papercut-raw fingertips and at least 35 gifts under the tree, and her Christmas playlist had looped three times. As it was approaching evening, and it was the holidays, after all, Y/N poured herself a glass of wine before she started tackling the stockings that were hanging over the mantle, all crowded together. Her mother had graciously dropped stockings off for her and the hybrids that morning, each with crocheted names on the fabric. 

Y/N wasn’t used to being away from all of the boys at once, for that long, since she adopted them. Usually, there was always one or two of them hanging around at home with her, even if the rest were at a club. At first, she was a tad relieved to have some time to talk to her friends freely over the phone, be as klutzy as she wanted without one of them flipping their lids, or even getting control of the wireless speaker; but as evening had the the house growing darker and quieter, she felt it was time to give her mother a call for her ETA with the boys. 

While she was dropping little knick-knacks into Jimin’s stocking, the cellphone balanced between her cheek and shoulder beeped morosely– her mother sent her directly to voicemail. Cursing, she continued to fill up the stockings, trying a different number. 

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Yoongi’s voice came through the receiver, though the lovely melody of it was muffled by commotion all around him. Even through the phone, she could hear Hoseok’s loud voice, and the rushing noises of a car speeding down the highway. 

“Nothing’s wrong, angel, just wondering when you’ll be back. My mom wasn’t picking up,” Y/N smirked, heart feeling full that she could detect concern in his tone. 

“W-we, uh, okay, oh! Um, hold on, Y/N,” Yoongi fumbled with his phone, Y/N cringing as she listened to the commotion on the other end of the line. 

“Honey? Sorry, my phone died fifteen minutes ago,” her mother’s voice suddenly replaced Yoongi’s, and Y/N had no doubt that she had stolen his phone from him. “We’re on our way back now. You better lock yourself in your room though, the boys have some wrapping to do.” 

“What do you mean? I thought you were getting gifts for them,” Y/N stilled, elbow-deep in Namjoon’s stocking, dropping the Barnes and Noble gift card into the garment with shock. 

“I finished shopping for them weeks ago, honey. I’ll drop their gifts off tomorrow. Jesus, honey, I gotta focus, okay? I hate driving at night,” Y/N could hear someone honking at her mother, who typically drove like a geriatric hospital patient. “Go hide in your room. Namjoon says he has a house key, so don’t leave the door unlocked or anything!”

“Wait, mom–” Y/N cursed when her mother hung up on her promptly, hurriedly placing the last few items into Namjoon’s stocking. “Oh, my poor boys… been with that loon all day…”

Swallowing a large mouthful of wine, Y/N blinked at the stockings hanging over the fireplace, the thirty second phone call finally sinking in. If her mother didn’t take the hybrids to the mall to pick things out for themselves, did that mean they were shopping for her? Squeaking, Y/N snatched up her bottle of wine and scrambled to her bedroom, giving the parlor a cursory glance to make sure she had stacked all of the gifts under the tree properly. 

It only took fifteen minutes after the phone call for Y/N to hear car doors slamming from her spot on her bed, drinking her wine straight from the bottle like a cavewoman. All she wanted was to greet them at the door, feel Seokjin squeeze her tight, hear Namjoon diligently hanging the house keys back up on the wall hook, and listen to Hoseok chatter about his day without her. 

She strained her ears, hearing someone shove the key into the door and slide the deadbolt back, before absolute chaos echoed throughout the house. Seven different voices, all at once, filing into the foyer, the sound of shoes being kicked off and plastic bags crinkling against one another. Already, Y/N could hear Namjoon calling out orders on where to put everything, and she thought she heard him ask the room if anyone knew how to wrap. Snickering into her hand, Y/N took another swig of her wine, footsteps growing softer as they all headed into the parlor. 

“Christ almighty,” Y/N sighed, praying that no one would cheat and peek into their stockings. Her eyes snapped open when she heard a knock on her bedroom door. 

“Coming,” Y/N jumped up from bed, bumping her hip sharply into one of her bedposts, swearing quietly. “Fuck me.”

Cracking the door open, she almost immediately, and embarrassingly, melted on the spot, Yoongi’s cold-flushed face appearing in front of her. 

“Hi,” she greeted shyly, opening the door a bit wider so he could lean on the doorframe. He was still wearing his dark blue puffer jacket, a fond smile on his lips. “Missed you.”

In the couple of weeks her and Yoongi’s relationship had… changed, the two of them hadn’t had too much alone time. In fact, the previous Friday, she couldn’t even have her weekly piano lesson with him, as she had got called into work when her boss fell ill– so Y/N had to deal with secret longing glances and the ‘normal’ amount of cuddling and affection around everyone else in order to avoid suspicion. Y/N had no idea when she would even be able to have a conversation with Yoongi about how to break the news to the other hybrids. All she knew was it was near-torture to not be able to kiss him whenever she wanted, to scream from the roof that she loved him. 

“Did you?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow, teasing light dancing in his beautiful hazel eyes, Y/N offering him a sardonic grin. 

“Don’t be a dick. You know I did,” Y/N whispered, desperate to retain some privacy. Hopefully, with her Christmas playlist still booming and looping in the parlor, along with what sounded like Seokjin and Hoseok loudly bickering, that their moment would go unnoticed. “How was it today? You guys didn’t buy me stuff, did you?”

Yoongi scoffed, totally affronted, all while tucking a loose strand of hair behind Y/N’s ear tenderly. The contact had her shivering like she was standing out in the cold in her underwear. 

“Who else would we get gifts for, silly girl? Each other? Please,” Yoongi cocked his head, likely noticing how Y/N was inching closer and closer to his warmth. “I noticed all of those boxes under the tree. What, you’re allowed to get us stuff, but not the other way around?”

“Stop pissing me off. I’ve barely gotten to talk to you alone in two weeks,” Y/N huffed, ready to close the door in his face at that point, no matter how much she wanted to squeeze him until he couldn’t breathe. 

Yoongi chuckled, tucking his hands into his jacket pocket lazily. Though he appeared nonchalant, his expression was soft in ways that had her heart aching. 

“I’ll come and get you when everyone’s done wrapping. Seokjin wouldn’t shut up about watching Christmas movies with you all day,” Yoongi said, Y/N feeling her cheeks heat up at the mental image of her seven boys tying bows around things that they picked out for her. “Oh. We brought home some food from that Indian restaurant by the mall for dinner, too.”

“Ooh, I love that place. We’ll eat while we watch the movies, after you’re all done,” Y/N couldn’t help but pout a little knowing that their alone time was nearly up, already light on the balls of her feet to collapse back onto her bed until he came back to fetch her. “Okay. I won’t keep you, then, angel.”

Before she could turn, Yoongi grabbed her by the waist, a sexy, deadly purr rumbling from his chest as he glanced down at her through his eyelashes. Heart hammering, she found herself frozen in time, completely under his spell. 

“Hold on, baby,” Yoongi warned softly, his fingertips scorching even over the fabric of her flimsy cotton pajamas. “Gimme a kiss first.”

Though his voice was gentle, his statement was a demand, not a request, and Y/N had no qualms giving him what he desired. Besides– it’s what she wanted more than anything, as well. Wanting to wipe the expectant look off of his face, she stepped even closer to Yoongi, looping her arms around his neck.

Easily, she leaned her body weight onto the leopard hybrid, melding their chests together without prompting, watching his eyes flutter shut and lips part slightly in anticipation. Not even caring if anyone else could walk by at any moment, Y/N decided to tease Yoongi a little, giving the tip of his nose a kiss and pretending to pull away. Quietly growling, Yoongi tightened his hold on Y/N’s waist, taking matters into his own hands by slotting his lips against hers, Y/N releasing a sigh she hadn’t realized she was holding onto. 

The kiss was chaste, for the most part, void of the desperate passion from two weeks ago, after their confession. Yoongi hummed into her mouth, thumbs rubbing circles into waist, Y/N feeling like she was free-falling as he held her. Y/N wanted more, pressing herself closer to him until they were completely flush, Yoongi grunting as her hips collided with his. 

“Mmph– easy, baby,” Yoongi groaned quietly, rearing his head backwards so Y/N couldn’t plant another kiss on his mouth. “Don’t wanna get caught, do you?”

“I don’t care,” Y/N whined, tugging the ends of Yoongi’s hair at the nape of his neck, making him shiver and shake his head. 

“Yes you do, sweetheart,” Yoongi countered, removing both of her hands from around his neck, though pressing a kiss to each of her palms before releasing her wrists. “As much as I’d like to indulge you in your earlier request, now’s not the time.”

“What are you talking about, earlier request–” Y/N began, before Hoseok was loudly calling for Yoongi from the kitchen, making her spring apart from Yoongi like he shocked her with a wire. 

“I’ll come get you in a bit, sit tight, okay?” Yoongi gave her waist a quick squeeze, winking, before setting off down the hall before she could catch him by his coat, his tail curling behind him languidly. 

In a daze, Y/N shut her bedroom door, stiffly perching on the end of her bed and taking a deep swing from the bottle of wine she left on the floor prior to Yoongi’s interruption. It was several moments later when it dawned on her– the “earlier request”– when she bumped her hip against her bedpost, she exclaimed “Fuck me”. 

Christmas morning, Y/N miraculously woke up without a hangover, despite the amount of cocktails she had during the Christmas Eve movie marathon she had with the hybrids. In fact, she jumped out of bed like there were ants in her pajama pants, eager to get a head start on everything she had planned for that morning. After freshening up, she headed straight for the hallway, only stopping to peer into Namjoon’s room– the wolf hybrid wasn’t in there, though. She found him, along with Seokjin, in the kitchen already, both still in their pajamas and fixing up their morning cup of coffee. 

“Morning, you two! Merry Christmas,” Y/N made her way to the refrigerator, taking out the sheet of French toast she had soaking in custard overnight. “Oh, you preheated the oven for me, Seokjinnie? Thank you!”

Seokjin hovered behind her while she slid the sheet into the oven, Y/N feeling his body heat as she straightened up, no doubt waiting for a hug, as he always did every single morning. Before she could turn to do so, she squeaked, feeling Seokjin wrap his arms around her middle and rest his chin on her shoulder, tail curling around her thigh. Apparently, he wasn’t keen on waiting that morning. 

“Oof– gentle, Seokjin, I’m not going anywhere,” Y/N giggled, ticklish where he was nudging the tip of his nose against the side of her neck affectionately. 

“When do you think Foxy is going to drag his carcass up from the basement?” Yoongi strolled into the kitchen, going right to the coffee bar and taking two mugs out of the cabinet, dutifully making a cup for himself and Y/N. “I think between him and Jeongguk, they drank an entire handle of Tito’s.”

“If he’s not up before breakfast is ready, I’ll go down there and get him. He’ll be pissed if he doesn’t get any bacon,” Y/N shuffled around the kitchen island awkwardly with Seokjin still clinging to her back, his purring growing louder and louder as she smoothed her hands up and down his forearms clasped around her middle. “Speaking of, did you wanna make the bacon, Seokjin?”

With that, the jaguar hybrid finally broke away from her, and Y/N accepted her mug of coffee from Yoongi so she could sit beside Namjoon at the breakfast nook. The wolf hybrid said nothing as she scooched close to him, practically reading over his shoulder, furrowing her eyebrows at the book he was reading. 

“Is that Latin, Joonie? What are you reading? I didn’t know you could speak Latin,” Y/N rapid-fired, Namjoon patiently putting his book down so he could answer her questions. 

“I don’t speak Latin, actually. This is Jeongguk’s, he asked me to take it out of the library from him. He can speak Latin, apparently… I was just leafing through,” Namjoon pushed the book towards Y/N so she could check it out, the cover ancient looking. It appeared to be some kind of book of prayers. 

“How the hell did he learn Latin? It’s not like they teach hybrids how to speak a dead language in the labs when they’re kids,” Yoongi commented, giving Jimin a nod as the coyote hybrid came into the room. 

“I just picked up a book and figured it out, asshole,” Jeongguk was right behind Jimin, apparently, shooting Yoongi a dirty look. 

“Let’s not bicker on Christmas, okay? Chill out,” Y/N frowned, Jimin mirroring her disapproval from across the room. “We’re just waiting on Tae and Hoseok, right?”

“I’ll get Hoseok,” Seokjin volunteered, placing the tongs he was using to flip over pieces of bacon in the skillet off to the side, disappearing from the room before Y/N could protest. 

“Taehyung’s up. I heard his shower going,” Yoongi remarked, taking out plates for the food. 

“I can’t wait for you guys to open your gifts!” Y/N squirmed in her seat, inadvertently wiggling further into Namjoon’s space. The wolf hybrid simply remained still, allowing her to snuggle up to his side as much as she wanted. “I’m excited to see what my mom got you all too. Hopefully nothing crazy… like goats or any other kind of barnyard animal.”

“Ooh, but then we could try goat yoga, Y/N darling!” Hoseok made his grand entrance into the kitchen, looking a little disheveled with his wavy hair sticking up in multiple directions, but grinning nonetheless. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“Yeah, it would be fun to shovel goat shit or get gored to death by Black Phillip, too,” Jeongguk drawled, already stacking bacon onto his plate with a grimace. 

“Party pooper,” Hoseok muttered, grabbing a plate for himself and sticking his tongue out at Jeongguk while the elk hybrid has his back to him. 

Tae silently entered the room, taking up her free side on the booth, waiting for Yoongi to come around with the sheet of French toast, Y/N giving him a hair ruffle when he told her “Merry Christmas”. 

Y/N ate as fast as she could, eager to get on with the gift-giving portion of the morning, and for once she was finished eating before any of the boys. She ditched them in the kitchen, heading straight to the parlor to light up the Christmas tree, start the fire, and switch on the TV station that was running holiday specials all day. She was in the middle of fluffing pillows on the couch when she stopped to stare at all of the boxes under the tree– it would probably take them at least two hours to open everything. She could tell which ones were for her; they were all clumsily wrapped with an aggressive amount of tape, and it made her smile goofily. 

“What’s that?” Jeongguk was the first to come into the parlor, collapsing on the leather recliner and pointing at the TV with disgust. “Ugly bastard.”

“Um, the fucking Grinch? Have you never seen this movie?” Y/N gasped in disbelief, Jeongguk looking at her like really. “He’s not ugly. He’s misunderstood!”

“Y/N, please,” Jeongguk groaned, rubbing his temples like she was aggravating him. Actually, agitating Jeongguk was becoming her new favorite hobby. 

Everyone filed in shortly after Jeongguk, taking spots on the floor and couch, and after a few moments of having to describe what The Grinch was to everyone but Yoongi, all of the hybrids were staring at her expectantly. 

“Okay, to make this go faster, why don’t we all open things at once? Here, I’ll grab something for each of you…” Y/N sprung up from her spot on the couch, startling Jimin beside her enough for him to yelp. 

Y/N started off with the gifts her mother had dropped off for the hybrids, plucking up the little envelope that was for her, as well. Once she returned to her seat, she found that they were all still staring at her. 

“Well? Go ahead! Just stick the wrapping paper in one of the trash bags over there,” Y/N pointed to the black bag by the tree, praying to the sky that her mother got normal gifts for them. To hasten the process of all of them slowly peeling back paper like her mom had wrapped grenades for them, Y/N tore her envelope open with vigor. 

“Oh my god! Guys, my mom must have gotten my grandfather’s old station wagon fixed at the shop, this is the title for it!” Y/N squealed. 

“But, you already have a car,” Hoseok pointed out helpfully, the point clearly going straight over his head. 

“Yeah, I do. But if she brings over the station wagon, whoever decides to sign up for driving school will have a car to use when I’m at work or whatever!” Y/N explained, waving the title in Hoseok’s face. 

“Actually, that would be pretty helpful. You won’t have to drive us everywhere all the time,” Yoongi said, brushing a finger over his lips, his gift half-opened on his lap. 

Taehyung, beside her, was the first to resume opening his gift, which was a flat square-shaped package. Y/N had a suspicion that it was a record, which was confirmed when he tore off the last of the paper. It was a vintage jazz record, an artist she didn’t know of, but Taehyung certainly did. It appeared that the record was signed, additionally, which had Taehyung’s cheeks turning a bright shade of pink in excitement. 

Y/N was content to simply watch them all tear into the gifts, soaking in every little expression, ear flicker, and surprised sounds. Namjoon received a first-edition version of one of his favorite books, Yoongi opened a little velvet box containing a silver chain that mimicked the one he wore for his Scarface costume on Halloween, and Hoseok got a new pair of running shoes, flamboyantly colored. For Jimin, it looked like her father had picked out a special edition of the coyote hybrid’s favorite whiskey, Seokjin got a woven silver ring that went with the watch he had gotten for his birthday, and perhaps her favorite gift one of them had received so far– Jeongguk opened up a brass cigarette case, the whole room dissolving into laughter at the bewilderment on his face. 

“To be fair, sweets, you’re about as subtle as a gun with your smoke breaks,” Y/N managed through laughter, watching him turn the case around in his hands. 

“Actually, this is pretty nice. I think it’s an antique,” Jeongguk ignored the fact that he was being laughed at, pulling his pack of cigarettes out of his pajama pockets and beginning to fill up the case with Marlboros. 

“Knowing my mom, it probably is an antique,” Y/N agreed, getting up again to pass out the next round of gifts. Clothes, mostly, all in each of their unique styles, now that she was familiar with them. She could recall that time, many months ago, when she ordered clothes for all of them without even really knowing what most of them looked like, let alone their style preferences. 

There were a few more personal items she got for each hybrid; such as an Ikea bookshelf (that she’d likely have to put together herself) for Namjoon and his growing book collection and a brand-new bookbag, a nice yoga mat and a Hypervolt for Hoseok, and a big plushie of an alpaca was given to Seokjin, one that he had gushed over at the mall once when Y/N took him for his last haircut. 

Y/N was so enthused, clipping the thin gold chain she had gotten for Taehyung around his throat happily, that she totally forgot about their gifts to her, which remained untouched under a sea of ripped paper beneath the tree. 

“How do those shoes fit, Hoseok? Right size?” Y/N called over Taehyung’s shoulder, securing his necklace and making sure the clasp was in the back. Hoseok was flexing and pointing his feet, tail wagging in a pleased manner as he admired his new sneakers. 

“They’re perfect!” Hoseok gave her an animated thumbs-up, before realization dawned across his face. “Hey, you haven’t opened anything! Jinnie, grab our gift from under the tree!”

Suddenly feeling embarrassed, Y/N accepted a lumpy package from Seokjin, who looked eager and excited, the stuffed alpaca still tucked under his arm. Y/N didn’t think he’d be letting it go anytime soon. 

“This is from the two of you?” Y/N asked meekly, aware of all the eyes on her, even if half of the room was occupied checking out some of their new possessions. 

“Mm-hmm! Picked it out together!” Hoseok relaxed in the chair he was sitting sideways on, his legs dangling over the armrest. 

Y/N tore into the paper, and she knew immediately why the package was so lumpy– they had wrapped an article of clothing without it being in a box, making her chuckle softly. Her fingertips brushed over material that felt like a cloud, and when she stripped the last of the paper away, she held up the jacket the two hybrids picked out for her. 

Made of sherpa, and baby pink in color, the jacket was so soft to the touch that she had to resist pressing her face into it. There was a pink heart embroidered on it, right over where her actual heart would be, and it had enormous pockets that could definitely handle her shoving her mitten-covered hands in. It was adorable, not something that she would have picked herself, but she absolutely loved it. 

“This is so cute, guys! I love it, it’ll be perfect for all the cold weather we have coming our way,” Y/N unzipped the jacket, shrugging it on and relishing the way the sherpa felt on her skin. She reached for Seokjin’s hand beside her, giving it a squeeze and a tiny kiss on his knuckles, blowing one dramatically to Hoseok, as well. 

“I liked the color, and Jinnie wanted to get you something to keep you warm, since you’re pretty bad at that,” Hoseok explained, a low, embarrassed growl coming from Seokjin. 

“I love it,” Y/N repeated. I love you. “Thank you, you two!”

“Okay, me next!” Jimin announced, retrieving his– immaculately wrapped– gift for her. 

Jimin got her a perfume that she had been eyeing on the Fragrantica website for weeks, as well as a book she had mentioned wanting to read by a local author, signed. Next was Taehyung and Yoongi’s gift, Y/N stunned that they actually got a joint gift that they agreed on, and it was her very own set of sheet music notebook, bound in leather, as well as a new pair of noise-canceling headphones in her favorite color. Jeongguk, sheepishly, handed her a little gift bag, the contents being a handful of crystals, a pack of hand-dipped incense, and a set of spell chime candles. 

“You guys are too good to me, seriously. Look at all this stuff! Thank you,” Y/N felt herself get a little choked up, even though the parlor was a mess with cardboard, torn paper, and tissue paper, all she could think about was the amount of thought and care that went into each of them picking out gifts for her. She made her rounds in the room, giving each of them a death-squeeze, even Jeongguk, who grumbled the entire time her arms were wrapped around his neck. 

“Y/N, we still need to watch Elf, remember?” Hoseok reminded her over by the bar cart, still wearing his new sneakers and in the middle of making Christmas cocktails for everyone. 

“I remember! I’ll put it on in a minute, okay? I’m just going to give my parents a call and I’ll be right back,” Y/N poked Hoseok on the cheek as she walked by him, on her way to the foyer so she could make her phone call. 

Escaping the blazing heat of the parlor, Y/N felt her cheeks begin to ache from how long she was grinning like a fool. She was halfway through her phone passcode in the hallway before she felt a tap on her shoulder, Y/N spinning around in confusion. 

“Joonie! What’s up?” Y/N cocked her head, noting that his ears were pressed flat against his skull, like he was embarrassed. 

“I… uh. I didn’t give you your gift yet,” Namjoon said awkwardly, pulling a long rectangular box out of his hoodie pocket and offering it to her. Y/N was so caught up with all of the excitement that morning that she didn’t even register that Namjoon hadn’t given her anything. “Here.”

“Oh, Joonie, you shouldn’t–”

“Yes, I should have. Open it, if you don’t like it, I’ll get something else… I’ve never really picked out anything like this for somebody before. So…” Y/N placed her hand on Namjoon’s upper arm to prevent him from babbling further, his lips slamming shut and ears perking up somewhat. 

Beneath the wrapping paper was a velvet box, Y/N biting down on her lip as she pried the lid open, a sharp gasp tearing from her chest as she saw what was nestled within the box. It was a necklace– a choker, judging by the length of it– entirely made up of tiny gems, perhaps cubic zirconia, and in the center of the necklace was a blood-red gem cut in the shape of a heart, delicate and small like the rest of the gems making up the piece. While gawking at the choker, she heard Namjoon nervously shuffling from foot to foot in front of her, Y/N swallowing thickly in order to lubricate her now bone-dry esophagus. 

“Joon… this is beautiful,” was all Y/N could manage, her voice breaking a little. Namjoon, even with his rough edges, had a profound sentimental side to him that Y/N only saw once in a while, and when he’d reveal it to her, she cherished every second. 

“You like it?” Namjoon’s voice came out in a rush, like he was holding his breath, the orange-amber color of his eyes practically sparkling. “You’re not just saying that, right?”

“You’d know if I was lying,” Y/N retorted, running her pointer finger over the necklace in admiration, heart beating wildly. 

“Do you…” Namjoon cleared his throat, gently taking the box from her grasp, taking a step closer to her. “Want to try it on? I’ll clasp it for you.”

Some questions didn’t require responses. Y/N wordlessly turned, gathering her hair in one hand to move it out of the way, waiting for the wolf hybrid to make the first move. Thankfully, he caught on keenly, Y/N shutting her eyes as she listened to Namjoon move behind her. Miraculously, she didn’t make a sound when he draped the necklace around her throat even though the gems chilled her feverish flesh, instead, Y/N focused on Namjoon’s scent. Without fail, the honeyed musk scent of his body wash had her completely relaxing into the moment, humming contentedly as Namjoon’s fingertips brushed against the sensitive skin of the nape of her neck. Distantly, she knew that she was perhaps being obvious, but Namjoon didn’t seem to notice as he deftly fastened the choker into place. 

“Let me see,” Namjoon requested, using two fingers to tap the side of her neck. 

Doing a goofy twirl, Y/N faced the wolf hybrid again, grabbing onto his hands for balance without a second thought. He didn’t drop his hold on her once she was still, his eyes dropping from her face to the choker around her throat. 

“Pretty,” was all Namjoon said, freeing one of Y/N’s hands so he could adjust the necklace, making sure the little red heart rested in the dip of her collar bones. “Suits you.”

“I love it, Joonie. Thank you,” Y/N shivered due to how close Namjoon had gotten to her. Unable to help herself, Y/N opened her arms, yanking the wolf hybrid into an embrace, Namjoon going stiff before tentatively hugging her back, Y/N wondering if he could hear her thundering heartbeat. “My Joon bug, you’re so sweet.”

Namjoon made a noise of embarrassment, but with her cheek pressed to his chest, she could feel his heartbeat galloping just like hers. 

“Here, come with me while I make my call. I bet my mom would like to say hello to you,” Y/N, sadly, let Namjoon go, tangling her hand in the hem of his forest green henley, dragging him in the direction of her bedroom. Namjoon didn’t protest, letting her tow him along with a hidden smile on his face. 

“Where’s the birthday boy?” Alice sang, bustling through the front door with a large Christmas gift bag hanging off of one elbow, a platter of sugar cookies tucked balanced on her other arm. “And my little fox hybrid!”

“Hi, Al,” Y/N kissed her friend’s cheek, already a little flustered from chasing Daisy around the house with Jimin. “Let me take the cookies. Tae’s in the kitchen, so is Hoseok.”

“Laura’s already here, right?” 

“Showed up at the same time as Ben and Roy!” Y/N helped Alice out of her coat, hanging it up in the closet that was nearly bursting with the amount of garments stuffed in there. “Jesus. There must be 26 coats in here. And 8 of them belong to Seokjin.”

“Oh, he’s such a cutie. Not a fan of the cold, right?” Alice followed Y/N to the kitchen, straightening out her sweater as she walked. Before they could get there, however, Alice stopped her with a poke on the shoulder, expression becoming serious. “How are things? You know, with… Yoongi?’

Alice whispered so softly, Y/N had to practically press her ear to her friend’s mouth, and once she registered what she was asking, Y/N was grateful the house was full of loud voices and music at that moment. 

“Um, I’ll give you a call next time I go to work and tell you everything,” Y/N hoped that Alice would get the hint, giving her a beseeching look. “But we’re good, don’t worry about me. We’re still figuring things out, but we’re not on the outs anymore.”

Alice seemed to digest this information slowly, as if she didn’t quite believe Y/N, but let it go and continued to follow Y/N, leaning into her side as she walked. 

“Fine, but I want details. Excruciating details. You promised,” Alice whisper-shouted, her face brightening once she spotted her twin sister in the kitchen, who was mingling with Roy and Jimin.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Y/N brushed her off, feeling embarrassed. In the kitchen, all of her Christmas decorations were still up and an obscene amount of food on the island, mostly charcuterie boards she and Yoongi spent a large part of the day preparing. “Get some food before you try one of those cocktails Hoseok made. They’re pretty stiff.”

“Alice is here!” As if he was summoned, Hoseok strolled over, two fresh cocktails in his hands, offering the two girls the glasses with his stunning smile. “How’ve you been, darling? Been writing your new book?”

Alice turned on her coy smirk, using her free arm to give Hoseok a side-hug, pecking his cheek like Y/N had done to her when she arrived. Lifting an eyebrow but holding her tongue, she watched Hoseok’s smile grow even wider, smugly. 

“Yeah, I’ve just finished the rough draft. It’s been a blast to write, totally different from what I usually do,” Alice took an over-confident sip of her cocktail, and Y/N tried her best to hold back her laughter when Alice immediately coughed at the taste of it. “Christ, Foxy, what is this, jungle juice?”

“Something adjacent to jungle juice, yes,” Hoseok chuckled, reaching out to take the gift bag Alice was still carrying, placing it on the coffee bar where several bags from other guests were– birthday gifts for Taehyung. 

“Tastes like you made it in the goddamn sink,” Alice muttered, all while taking another sip. 

Snorting, Y/N was about to mention that Hoseok originally wanted to make it in the sink, but she heard her name being called, so she hastily excused herself, searching for the source of the voice amongst the crowded kitchen. 

“Honey! In here,” Y/N discovered that it was her mother calling her from the dining room, frantically motioning for her to join her, Y/N hoping she wasn’t about to tell her she had some kind of disturbing vision again. 

“What’s going on? There aren’t even any lights on in here, why are you lurking in the dark like this?” Y/N asked, growing more suspicious by the second. 

“I wanted to ask you if you finished working on Taehyung’s gift,” her mother, though originally a little wary of Taehyung after her vision about him many months ago, had warmed up to him by then. She had the feeling it was due to how sweet and affectionate Taehyung was around Y/N, and the fact that Y/N was so completely comfortable with him. 

“Of course I did. I worked on it whenever he was at the rec center! It’s all set up for later,” Y/N replied, a little ticked that she was pulled away from the party just to get interrogated about her work ethic. 

“Good, good. He looks happy! Not as shy as he once was,” her mother commented blithely, making Y/N hum. 

“I think the club had something to do with that,” Y/N started to drag her mother back into the kitchen, eager to get back to her friends and make sure there weren’t any shenanigans going on. “Did you see the portraits he took of us hung up on the stairwell?”

Y/N was able to deliver her mother to Ben, who was more than willing to keep her occupied by telling her about Daisy’s newfound interest in painting, and Y/N breathed a sigh of relief when she was able to find her hideous-tasting cocktail waiting for her on the island. She was mid-bite of a particularly juicy chocolate covered strawberry when she spotted Taehyung, who was by the fridge, chatting with Yoongi. Both of them were dressed in clothes she had gotten the two of them for Christmas, and it made her very happy that Taehyung had allowed himself to get closer to Yoongi, especially in recent weeks. 

Downing the rest of her drink, she rounded the island as best she could, giving Jeongguk a playful flick on the back of his head as she passed by him, an unlit cigarette between his lips as he was heading towards the slider to the backyard. He rolled his eyes, patting the top of her head condescendingly before he vanished, Y/N approaching Taehyung and Yoongi. 

“Hi, having fun?” Y/N greeted them, Taehyung nodded, leaning against the fridge with a content look. “Good idea for having a bunch of charcuterie boards, Tae.” 

“You got a little,” Tae motioned around his mouth area like she had something on her face, but before she could use her cocktail napkin to wipe her face sheepishly, Yoongi set down his glass of wine.

 Tongue peeking out to dampen his thumb, he got rid of smudge of chocolate on the corner of her mouth, popping the digit into his mouth without so much as a second thought, Y/N staring at him like he lost his fucking mind. 

“Got it,” Yoongi picked his wine glass back up, licking his lips with a devilish grin, Taehyung simply watching the scene unfold in front of him with boredom. 

“Whoa, my grandma used to do that to me during Sunday dinners,” Ben interrupted, Taehyung stepping aside so her friend could access the freezer for more ice. “Hey, Yoongi. I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

Y/N froze, jumping to the conclusion that Ben would confront the leopard hybrid after the brunch she had with him a couple of weeks ago, though that was hardly within his nature. Though protective of her, Ben wasn’t one to throw her under the bus, and Y/N had to quickly compose herself so none of her hybrids would catch the scent of alarm on her. Yoongi, unperturbed, regarded Ben with a lazy flicker of one of his spotted ears. 

“Go ahead,” Yoongi enunciated slowly, the only indication that he was as wary as Y/N. 

“You can say no, of course, but Y/N mentioned that you were teaching her how to play piano. I was wondering, if you had time during the week, if you could stop by and give Daisy some lessons? We’ll pay you for your time, naturally,” Ben proposed, Y/N nearly fainting with relief. 

“Oh, uh… yeah, I’d have time for that. I’m only at the rec center three times a week in the evenings. Do Monday afternoons work?” Yoongi’s eyebrows shot into his hairline, apparently taken aback. 

“Works for us! Here, come with me, we gotta tell Roy. He’s been wanting to sign her up for lessons for weeks, he has a bunch of questions…” Ben held his hand out, beckoning for Yoongi to follow him into the parlor where his fiance was entertaining Daisy with Jimin. 

Y/N saw that as an opportunity to steal Taehyung away from the party, grabbing his hand lightly. He didn’t protest, or even ask why she was leading him towards the staircase, but he clung to her side as if he could sense her growing anticipation. 

“Where are we going?” Taehyung finally asked curiously, taking steps two at a time to keep up with Y/N’s jog upstairs. 

“I wanna show you your gift!” Y/N breathed with effort after scaling the staircase, leading the Kodiak hybrid down the hall to what was once a large, unused walk-in closet of sorts, perhaps for linens back in the home’s heyday. Y/N used an old key she had stashed in her pocket to unlock the old door, feeling Taehyung looming behind her and breathing down her neck. 

Y/N fumbled for the lightswitch, stepping to the side and making a “ta-da!” gesture, Taehyung peering into the closet with rapt interest. 

Y/N had totally renovated the closet into a darkroom for Taehyung to develop photos in the home when he couldn’t access the rec center. She had begun doing a little research a months ago about how to DIY the room, and she thought it came out pretty successfully; two counters on either side of the closet– a “wet” and “dry” section of the room, fresh coat of dark paint on the walls, second-hand equipment she found on the internet, and the entire space lit with special low-light red bulbs. 

“What do you think! Pretty cool, right?” Y/N gushed, waltzing into the small room and pointing at the clothesline she had fastened to the walls so the Kodiak hybrid could hang his prints up to dry. “It’s like a home office for you, only a couple of doors down from your bedroom!”

“Y/N, you did this yourself?” Taehyung’s face had totally dissolved into shock, taking a shaky step into the dark room with large, rounded eyes. “It looks like the one in the rec center…”

“I had to do some research, but it was a blast to set up. Even if it was a challenge to work on it and keep it a secret from you, locking it up at night, hiding cans of paint… but I hope you like it!”

Taehyung looked around with glee, fingertips brushing over the newly installed countertops, Y/N perching herself on the chair she placed in the corner, admiring how diligently he checked everything out. The sleeves of his vintage sweater had slipped over his wrists again, Taehyung hastily pushing them up over his elbows so he could pick up one of the old cameras Y/N had dug out of the basement to give him. 

“You… Really like to go above and beyond, huh?” Taehyung surprised Y/N by making a teasing remark, spinning on his heel and taking a picture of her with the old camera. “Of course I like it, why wouldn’t I?” 

“So you’re teasing me now, too? Taking tips from Yoongi?” Y/N scoffed in disbelief, though something told her Taehyung didn’t quite know how to react to the situation. 

Taehyung chuckled, shaking his head, before he stalked up to Y/N on the chair and used his hands to haul her to her feet by hooking them under her armpits, crushing her in, well, a bear hug. Y/N went limp in his arms, unable to breathe but in bliss with the way he was holding her tightly, sandalwood fragrance intoxicating her. 

“Happy birthday, Tae,” Y/N murmured into his sweater, his arms tightening around her waist even more with her words. 

“We should probably go back downstairs…” Taehyung pulled away from her, the red lighting of the room bringing out his eye color more than ever before. “I think people are looking for you.”

“Curse of being the hostess,” Y/N sighed, linking her arm with his. “It’s time for cake, anyways!”

Taehyung hummed, snuggling close into her side as they began to return to their guests and the other hybrids, though as they got to the bottom step into the foyer, Taehyung bent down to whisper in Y/N’s ear. 

“Thank you, for everything.”

“Anything for you.”

“You’re so busy these days! I miss you…” Y/N hung onto the hem of Yoongi’s thermal like a child, waiting for him to shut the soundproof doors of the music room and unable to keep the whine out of her voice. 

“You’re busy, too, sweetheart. Didn’t you say there’s something coming up for you at work in the next few weeks?” Yoongi shook off her grip on his clothing, pointing at the loveseat so they could catch up. 

It had been a week since Taehyung’s birthday, the first Friday of January, and Y/N couldn’t remember the last time she had a piano lesson with Yoongi due to their conflicting schedules. 

“Yeah, I still have to think about it. Judy has this opportunity coming up, but it wouldn’t involve just me,” Y/N collapsed onto the loveseat, making grabby hands for Yoongi to sit beside her. 

“So tell me. You don’t want to do it?” Yoongi put his arm around her, his eyes a little sleepy from his hectic week of basketball practices and traveling back and forth to Ben’s to teach Daisy. Y/N sighed, launching into a recount of her meeting with Judy the day before. 

“Y/N, I’ve been thinking about asking you about something for a while, do you have a moment before you head home?” Judy announced vaguely, as Y/N was closing the blinds to the storefront at the end of her shift. 

“Of course,” Y/N adjusted the strap of her tote bag over her shoulder, Judy looking incredibly pleased with that answer. 

“I’m sure you’ve noticed since you started working here, people will come in every once and a while asking for help in the area of paranormal activity in their homes or places of business,” Judy began, brushing sandy curls out of her face. “I used to be able to travel to these locations and do consultations and cleansings, but not so much anymore with the growing popularity of my readings here at the shop.”

“Right,” Y/N nodded, already knowing where the conversation was heading. 

“I’ll cut to the chase. Would you be interested in taking up that responsibility? The pay would be higher, and you successfully cleansed your own home,” Judy clasped her hands in front of her, looking ever-so-hopeful. 

“I… The opportunity sounds interesting, and I’d like to say that I could commit to it, but with my hybrids at home…” Y/N already felt bad enough she had to be away from them three times a week, so the additional hours and traveling filled her with hesitance. 

“I thought of something to remedy that. You mentioned to me that you performed banishments and cleansings at your home with the help of two of your hybrids. I was thinking between the three of you, you could have somewhat of a ‘team’ that would do the consultations.”

“You mean Namjoon and Jeongguk?” Y/N blinked, taken aback. 

“Yes, the two gentlemen I met a little after Lammas,” Judy confirmed, referring to the time she had brought the hybrids to the strip mall for ice cream in August. “They’d make perfect additions. The wolf hybrid, you told me, has a wealth of knowledge for the paranormal, and your elk hybrid is experienced with exorcism.”

“I– I’d have to ask them about it,” Y/N replied weakly, knowing that Namjoon would likely pounce on the opportunity, but talking to Jeongguk could go either way. Considering Jeongguk wasn’t a part of any clubs, and Namjoon only left the house on Mondays for the book club, it would give both of them the chance to get out more. “Can I get back to you?”

“Absolutely. I should tell you, as well, you’d have total control over how the team would operate, so you’d have quite a bit of freedom. I think you’d end up preferring it over sitting in a nearly empty shop most days.”

Y/N was shoving Yoongi by his shoulder as he belly laughed at her, his eyes scrunched up into slits. 

“Fuck you, Yoongi, stop laughing! What’s funny?” Y/N crossed her arms across her chest, waiting for him to stop gasping for breath with a frown. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Yoongi wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, collecting her shoulders and settling her back into his side with a kiss to her temple. “So, let me get this right. Your boss wants you to formulate a ghostbusting team with those two edgelords hotboxing that ancient van in our driveway right now?”

“It sounds fucking stupid when you say it like that, but yeah, that’s the gist of it,” Y/N snapped, though melting into Yoongi’s hold anyways. “I’ve got to talk to them over the weekend. I know Namjoon would be on board, but Jeongguk…”

Absently, Y/N’s fingertips began toying with the choker around her neck she hadn’t taken off since Namjoon fastened it there, chewing her lip. 

“I think you should do it. You got rid of whatever was on this property, remember? And you won’t have to sit behind a counter and send us memes all day out of boredom,” Yoongi squeezed her side, sobering up enough to take her seriously. 

“Okay, I’ll talk to them,” Y/N agreed, feeling better that she had Yoongi’s approval. “Um, when do you think we should…”

Yoongi knew where she was going without her having to finish her sentence. When do you think we should tell the others that we’re together?

“It needs to be up to you, sweetheart. I can handle it if they’re pissed at me, but how they’ll react to you after they find out is what concerns me,” Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, Y/N considering that. “We need to be delicate about it, I think.”

Yoongi was tip-toeing around the fact that Y/N still had to confess her feelings to the six others, which had her gritting her teeth. 

“I’ll work something out. Jesus, I feel like I’m planning a press conference,” Y/N tipped her head against the back of the couch, heaving a sigh through her nose. “I just want to be able to kiss you whenever I want.”

“Is that right?” Yoongi’s tone turned playful, dropping an octave or two. “In front of everyone?”

Feeling the mood shift, Y/N forgot all about the piano lesson she was supposed to be in the middle of, something heating up in her stomach as Yoongi smirked, looking down his nose at her. 

“You know what I mean,” Y/N whispered, electrified. 

“I do?” Yoongi’s expression turned thoughtful, his ears fluttering as Y/N curled her legs sideways on the couch so she could face him. “You think I want that, too?”

“Whatever, guess not,” Y/N attempted to look away, a tad embarrassed. She was stopped, however, by a gentle grip on her chin. 

“You want me to kiss you in front of everyone, show them what you mean to me?” 

Y/N was silent, throat parched as she read the primal possession in his feline eyes. Swallowing as best she could to lubricate her esophagus, all she could hear was a gentle ticking coming from a clock sitting beside the new record player she had gotten Taehyung for Christmas. 

“Hmm… I don’t know if you really want that,” Yoongi continued, sounding almost bored, unaffected. 

“Yoongi.”

“Sweetheart?”

“Shut up and kiss me,” Y/N growled, bracing her hands on his shoulders and leveling him with an annoyed glare. 

Yoongi stared her down, still appearing unmoved, before he took her by surprise and surged forward urgently, the grip on her chin moving to the back of her neck, yanking her into his lips, the leopard hybrid’s mouth muffling the cry she let out. 

Unlike the kiss she stole from him the day before Christmas Eve, this one was full of fire and ice, Yoongi working his mouth so intensely against her own, Y/N imagined cartoon stars floating around her head like a halo. Still a little put off by his teasing earlier, she kissed him back just as eagerly, boldly nibbling his bottom lip eliciting a feral hiss from his chest. The expulsion of air opened his mouth enough for Y/N to swipe her tongue across the flesh she had just bitten, one of her hands cupping Yoongi’s jaw to keep him in place. 

Yoongi, in retaliation, tilted his head sideways, Y/N’s mouth parting because of it, his tongue sweeping into her mouth promptly in an attempt to regain control. Y/N, at that moment, didn’t want to relinquish it quite yet. Eyes still shut, she increased the strength at which she was clutching the side of his face, using her core to swing one knee over Yoongi’s lap, settling down on his thighs and resting her free hand over his purring chest. 

All too soon, however, she needed air, breaking free from the lip lock with a thin string of saliva still connecting them, Y/N’s chest heaving as she dove in for more– this time going straight for Yoongi’s neck. The leopard hybrid grunted, his hands sliding down her body to settle heavily on her hips, the sensation of her hot mouth on the sensitive skin of his neck overwhelming. Y/N kissed below his earlobe, unable to get enough, loving the quiet sounds coming from Yoongi’s swollen lips, trailing her kisses to his clavicle, skimming the chain that was around his neck.

“Baby,” Yoongi’s strained voice came out as a feathery breath, like he was trying to control himself, and Y/N returned to his mouth, moaning softly at the way his scorching fingertips wormed their way under her tee-shirt, skimming the skin of her lower back. 

“Mm?” Y/N hummed against his mouth, getting dizzy from the way his tongue slid against hers sensually. She never wanted the moment to end, no matter how much she was sweating– and how strong the spark of arousal was between her legs. 

Adjusting her position on his lap, Yoongi went quite still when she settled more weight on top of him, one of her own hands sneaking up the front of his shirt to settle over his pounding heart indulgently. Pulling away with a warning nip to the corner of her jaw, the sharpness of his canines against her flaming skin having her gasping, Yoongi sat back with a regretful look on his face, holding onto her hips to keep her somewhat hovering over his lap. 

“Love, we can’t… not until we tell everyone else. There’s no excuse that could cover up… the scent,” Yoongi managed, eyes softening at Y/N’s desperate pout. 

“Scent?” Y/N leaned forward despite the warning, pecking his lower lip indulgently

Yoongi glanced down at their laps expectantly, Y/N getting what he was implying like a freight train hit her. 

“Oh god. That’s embarrassing,” Y/N panicked, starting to move off of his lap, when he caught her with a grunt, keeping her seated on top of her. 

“Embarrassing? It’s natural. Come on, silly girl,” Yoongi growled, tucking hair behind her ears tenderly all the while. “Still. Wait just a little longer for me, okay?”

Y/N relented, the fire slowly leaching from her veins as she nestled her head into Yoongi’s chest, hiding her moping. 

“You waited for me all this time. I’ll wait for you.”

“Cheesy,” Yoongi snickered, soothingly passing her hands up and down her back. “Why don’t we get started with the lesson? Have you been practicing?”

“Let me hold you for a bit more,” Y/N whined, nuzzling her cheek into the crook of his neck. 

Yoongi snorted, planting a kiss on the top of her head, but indulging her anyway. He always was a pushover, when it came to her. 

Y/N was sitting in her car, half-frozen while she waited for it to heat up, staring at the phone in her hand. 

Sarah Good: Hi, Y/N! Thank you for reaching out over email about getting Hannah and Seokjin together before we move. How’s lunch at Salem’s on January 11th?

Resisting the urge to honk for Seokjin to get a move on within the house, she swallowed down nerves and adjusted her sweater dress twitchily. She had told Seokjin about the planned lunch weeks ago, and watched how excited he became as the days rolled on, and it was finally time to meet up with Sarah and Hannah. Y/N was about to send a text to Seokjin to get him to come outside when she spotted him hurrying down the icy driveway, wrapped up in a giant lavender puffer jacket. 

“Cold,” Seokjin whimpered as he climbed into the passenger seat, but retaining his merry expression. “Oh! You’re wearing the jacket!”

Indeed, Y/N had the baby pink sherpa jacket he and Hoseok had given to her for Christmas. It had become her favorite coat simply because they had gifted her, but also because seeing the delight on both of their faces when she wore it was absolutely priceless. 

“Matches my dress, see?” Y/N lifted the skirt of her pink sweater dress playfully, Seokjin definitely making sure she was wearing the skin-toned thick tights underneath it. “Don’t worry, I’m warm enough!”

Y/N threw her car into gear as soon as Seokjin was buckled in, his hand immediately seeking out hers, squeezing it eagerly. 

“So, are you excited to see her?” Y/N asked nonchalantly, after several minutes of listening to Seokjin hum along to the radio. 

“I am. I hope she’s recovered from her injuries…” Seokjin admitted, his mouth screwing up in concern. 

“I’ve been in touch with Sarah, she said that Hannah is doing wonderfully, all healed up! Sarah said there’s a great gymnastics team for hybrids in the area of New York she’s moving to that Hannah is interested in joining,” Y/N brushed her thumb over the back of Seokjin’s hand, something that he typically did whenever he thought she was stressed or nervous. 

“She’ll love that,” Seokjin replied tenderly, his legs bouncing up and down in anticipation. Y/N, despite herself, smiled empathetically, Seokjin’s concern for others rubbing off on her infectiously. 

Minutes later, they arrived at the brewery, Y/N trying to park as close to the building as she could out of Seokjin’s disdain for the frigid January temperature. 

“I don’t think they’re here yet, we’re a little early,” Y/N cleared her throat, finally able to get a good look at the jaguar hybrid beside her. He looked breathtaking, as he normally did, the pastel purple of his coat complimenting his sunset eyes, wavy hair parted off of his forehead, and smelling fresh and clean. “We can wait in here or go get a table? What do you think, honey?”

Seokjin opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Y/N’s ringtone, which she answered quickly without checking the caller ID. 

“Y/N? It’s Sarah! We just got here, parked towards the back,” a raspy, friendly female voice came in from the receiver, Y/N blinking rapidly as she observed Seokjin flinging his door open, promptly jumping out of the Land Cruiser. 

“O-oh, we’re here too! We’ll meet you at the door!” Y/N rushed out, hanging up before she could lose track of Seokjin, who was a blur of pastel and puffer jacket dashing across the parking lot. 

Y/N hardly had the time to lock the car before chasing after the jaguar hybrid, avoiding the black ice as best she could in the midst of her scrambling. 

“Jinnie!” A melodic, high and sweet voice exclaimed, chock-full of thick feeling, called across the parking lot, Y/N nearly tripping over her own boots at the sound of it. 

Pausing, Y/N watched the scene in front of her unfold like it was a movie she was watching in a theater, Seokjin screeching to a halt, arms wide as a slight figure darted into view. It was a young woman, around Seokjin’s age, with glimmering strawberry-blonde hair and peachy cat ears with a matching tail, who without any prompting, launched herself into Seokjin’s arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as she shook with emotion. 

Seokjin caught her with graceful ease, though his knees buckled nervously as well, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her head softly. Even from a considerable distance away from him, Y/N could spot the tear running down Seokjin’s cheek, a stabbing pain striking though her chest. Ears ringing, Y/N stared at the two embracing, biting the inside of her cheek painfully when she heard Seokjin’s throaty response. 

“Hannah, I missed you.”

Taglist; @blancflms @grazysf @sbromp @jaxavance @sunderlight @ot7nem @mageprincess7 @wittyreader @drenix004 @mayla548 @skyys-universe @ddaeng-angmoh @trtlthts @exfolitae @kalala22 @xiusmarshmallow @bangtans-momma @zae007live @paigetj @singukieee @lilacdreams-00 @dreamerwasfound @ninjacups @osakis-gf @itwillbealways-d @xthefuckerysquaredx @momowantscats @molshole @gooooomz @uarmyhore @lopprhe @oopscoop @xicanacorpse @i-like-anime13 @hemziii @demarie04 @im-sinking-in-mud @talkyoongitome @bangtxnbxunch @primrose2507 @kihyunniesmonbebe @7evensin @lilmxchis @00ihatesnaku @neverthefirstchoice @missyoueverysingleday @cathy-1997

Please do not repost or translate my work. Thank you!

[sinsofsummers]

cool about it

3.4k | boston!joel miller x f!reader

summary: it’s that day again. you don’t know why joel’s so withdrawn, but you help him manage it in the best way you know how. based on 'cool about it' by boygenius. warnings: angst angst angst, angsty smut (sorry), 18+, mdni, implied age gap (joel 50s, reader late 20s) grumpy & sad joel, drug use, alcohol use, oral (m receiving), p in v, creampie, shoulder kisses, pet names & slight praise, body worship kind of, feelings but also joel is bad at feelings, established...situationship. thing. pining (but don't tell them that). romance?? how dare you accuse them of such treachery note: i am so sorry...this is pure unbridled self-indulgence. pls forgive me. also this is set in boston qz, reader and joel have a similar relationship to the one he has with tess, but she doesn't exist in this au (i'm so sorry). also i am kind of so proud of this one

It's been years since you met him, since you've begun to crack his otherwise hard exterior, helping him shed every icy layer to reveal the tired, aging man beneath it all. You've both gone to unbelievable lengths to protect one another against any trouble, or enemy, or plague, that has cast itself in your way. Each night concludes with your limbs tangled together, hands tucked safely within each other's reach. A promise, so quiet it's hardly binding—I've got you.

You've never defined exactly what it means when he calls you sweet pea, or when his lips drop a chaste kiss to your forehead in the morning, or when his hand lingers on your elbow a little longer than normal in the QZ. It never needed to mean anything, so the two of you never spoke about it. You belong to him; he belongs to you.

And yet, every year, on the exact same morning, Joel Miller wakes up a stranger to you. His eyes return to the icy dark depths that you met him with, and his hands find purchase in his pockets rather than absentmindedly rubbing circles on your skin. Every year, without fail, he retreats to his past, a place he won't ever let you see, despite your every wish.

i came prepared for absolution, if you'd only ask

A few years after you met him, you had tried asking him to explain, to let you into his head. It wasn't an attempt at intimacy, or a vulnerability that resembled anything that you hadn't seen from him before, but he'd done nothing more than shake his head.

"M'fine," he'd said. The entire day, every time you asked, no matter how softly, his answer remained unchanged. "Don't feel much like talkin'."

So instead of talking, you'd resorted to letting him come back to you on his own time, in his own way. With rough hands pushing you down to lay on your back, his eyes far away even as he brought you to the edges of bittersweet ecstasy. His kisses were always softer, more distracted. But it was the only communication you ever got out of him on those days.

When he rolled over at night, his hands curled into loose fists, you let him be. He never refused your touch, but you knew enough to recognize when it wouldn't come as any comfort to him. Not on those nights. Never on those nights.

The closest you'd get to falling asleep in his arms on those nights was with a hand placed purposefully between your chest and his back, just close enough that he might lean into it, should he shift in his sleep. And in those soft brushes of skin against cloth lay a million questions.

Forgive me, you'd begged inwardly one night. Forgive me for not understanding, and I'll forgive you for not sharing.

When the sun rose on a new morning, he was always back to the man you were used to, that you had grown dependent on. When his hands reached for you, and when his mouth painted swirls on your chest, you knew that it was out of want for you, not to distract himself from the ghosts of his own past.

He always praised your body's reaction to him, and you always relished in the way that his hips rocked against yours, stretching you out for him—tongue, fingers, his hard intrusion—on those mornings after.

You'd left it at that, for a year or two.

once i took your medication to know what it's like

He'd been resorting to more intense solutions when you decided to do it. When that day came as it always did, you watched as he drowned out the hours with whiskey and pills. You never knew where his supply came from or who was responsible for getting him his drug of choice; you could only sit idly by and watch his features droop from the effects of the dangerous combination, shuffling to your shared bed before he'd pass out until the sun rose on the next morning.

It only took three instances of this before you'd resolved to go through the day exactly as he would, as if it might help you understand. Perhaps it wasn't anything you were meant to understand, but you'd grown weary of seeing him motionless for hours on end. Usually, you never said anything. You didn't really believe he would take enough to cause any real damage; you were blindly faithful in his will to live.

"Joel," you'd said one year. That was all. One syllable, so familiar, and yet it bled with enough warning in your tone that he paused. Don't.

Glass raised, the rim already pressed to his lips—the lips of which you knew every crack and curve—pills already dissolving on his tongue, he'd paused. His eyes never looked at you, though. He sat there, frozen but for the whiskey sloshing gently in the glass before he resumed, swallowing the dark liquid in one go. With hardly a glance in your direction, he'd collapsed to the bed.

You didn't know exactly why you did it, or why it had been that year that you'd become fed up, but you couldn't ignore the fear that struck your chest when you saw him hit the mattress. Before you knew it, you'd swallowed the pills, scowling at the burn of whiskey down your throat.

It had never been your choice of liquor, but you braved the sting in your foolish hopes that it might tell you something about the gray-haired man in your bed. Like drinking his whiskey might envelope you in his arms and whisper his secrets to you.

Laying down beside him, you'd curled up to his side. He was already deep in his drugged slumber; he wouldn't be conscious enough to move from your touch. With a hand on his chest, poised over his heart to reassure yourself that he still had one, you closed your eyes and succumbed to the heavy press of sleep.

When he woke, saw your own empty glass and pill bottle left open on the table, he shook you until you startled awake. Eyes bleary, the effects of the drugs wearing off, you caught him staring down at you, his nose brushing your cheek and his lips a hair's breadth from touching yours.

"Don't ever fuckin' do that again, sweet pea," he snarled, but his words held no malice. You tried to ignore how big his eyes were, pupils blown wide.

You'd wanted to snap at him, to tell him the same thing, but you heard the desperate begging in his voice. The unspoken please. So rather than causing a scene, you'd nodded slowly and let your fingers brush the hem of his shirt. "Okay," you'd whispered. "I won't. Never again, Joel," you repeated, a mantra as you slipped your hands underneath his shirt.

Sliding his arms under your body and pulling you to him, he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, then your cheeks, both of your eyelids. He finally bent to your lips, chasing the taste of you and finding only his own mistakes on your tongue.

The day had passed. He had survived. With the gentle lull of his hips slotting against your own, he had breathed shakily into your mouth as your hands wandered along his skin. Like clockwork, Joel Miller had returned to you, if only for a short while.

i ask you how you're doing, and i let you lie

One day, the pills ran out. The whiskey didn't do anything on its own, so Joel was stuck to find something else to distract him. Whether you were the one that flushed his pills or found who was supplying him, you'd never admit. It was much too close to a confession of something than either of you were comfortable with, so you'd stayed quiet. Helped him find a new vice.

These days, you've lost count of how many years you've seen him withdraw into himself, a shell of the man you know. You've stopped trying to follow where his mind goes when the sun rises on that early autumn day, and he's never made the attempt to explain. For just one day a year, the two of you are silent except for a few mumbled words. Your hands rarely touch on those days, always a few centimeters from each other as he sits at the table.

A reminder. That you're there, that he's there, and that the day will pass. It always does.

His new vice becomes you before long, and you can manage that. He's never particularly rough on those days, anyway; he just needs your body to distract his mind. It takes him a bit to sink into the comfort of your curves, but you always help him get there. Until he's twitching under your hands and letting his eyes flutter closed as you expertly undo his jeans.

You never make him fuck you when he's like this, but you're happy to oblige when he slips a hand between your thighs, reaching for your core and always finding it ready for him. If it pleases him, you let him take whatever he needs.

With whispered moans that make your chest constrict and rough fingers pressing bruises to your hips that he'll kiss away the next morning, he gets through the day.

Today, you know it's not one of those mornings. He's already been awake for a while when you open your eyes, based on his tense posture as he sits on the edge of the bed. He's facing the window, which means his back is to you, withholding his face from yours.

Of course, you don't need to look at him to know what his face will look like. His chin is tucked toward his chest, and his eyes will be closed, hands clenched together as if in prayer. But you know better than to think of Joel Miller as a spiritual man. Whatever faith he might have had all those years ago has withered into scraps. His only faith is in your constant presence in his bed each night.

You sit up slowly, and the sound of rustling sheets makes him twitch his head to the side, the sight of his jaw ticking the only acknowledgement of you being there. With slow movements, you move to sit behind him, your legs on either side of his hips but never close enough to touch. He's gotten better at allowing for a few more moments of contact, and you think this means he's making progress.

How could you ever be sure, though? When he still won't reveal the pain of today?

"Did you wake up to see the sunrise?" you ask gently, leaning forward and bracing your hands in front of you, waiting. His response will determine how you'll distract him for the coming hours.

As usual, Joel doesn't say anything, but his back reclines an inch. It's all you need.

"I'll bet it was real pretty," you continue, trying to keep your voice soft. This is one of your many routines; you lift your hands and press them to his back, just enough for him to feel your fingertips. You don't know if he listens to anything you say, or if he even cares. This part is just for you. This is how you get through these days.

You lean just a bit further, letting your forehead rest on his shoulder. Your hands slide around his middle and your stomach flips selfishly at the feeling of his muscles tensing beneath your featherlight touch. Reaching down for his lap, you rest your palm against his jeans, feeling him twitch against your hand. There he is.

Maybe it's sad, maybe it's fucked up, but fuck what anyone else would say. This is what he needs, the only thing that helps him stay out of his nightmarish memories, whatever they may be. You'll never ask him to show that side of himself, not anymore.

Pressing a kiss to his shoulder, you deftly work the button on his jeans, pushing the zipper down and reaching into his waistband until his half-hard cock comes free. It rests heavy in your hand, and you're comforted by the weight of it. His shoulders are too broad for you to see it, but you're not bothered by this. With another kiss, this one landing on the soft skin of his neck, you give him a languid stroke.

Joel's chest rises and falls as he breathes, and you can feel his arousal stirring as he grows firmer in your grip. His hands begin to unclench, but his fingers remain flat on his tights, never touching you outside of where your legs are hooked to his, your chest flush with his back.

The room is silent except for his breathing, every second getting more shallow. You can feel the tension in his back release a little, and you let your thumb rub a slow circle over the slit on his tip, precum just starting to leak onto your hand.

You stay like this for a few minutes, one arm wrapped around his stomach and your other hand on his cock, tugging slow enough not to overwhelm him, and fast enough to keep him pulsing in your hand.

Only when his hips buck involuntarily do you let go, moving from your place behind him to the floor. Your knees hit the wood hard, but you ignore the pain as your hands slide up his thighs.

His own hands remain still on his jeans, and he lets you interlock your fingers with his own. A small mercy. Today might not be as bad as the years before, and you dip your head to lick a stripe from base to tip before closing your mouth around the head of his cock.

Joel's fingers twitch in your grasp, and you squeeze back, hardly noticeable. Just enough to act as thanks. Thank you for letting me do this. For you.

You never look up, afraid of what his eyes will betray when your mouth is around him. You know this is only a distraction, a slow respite from his thoughts. So you ignore the impatient pulse between your thighs and take him as deep as he'll go, your hopes lifting when you hear his shaky sighs.

One of his hands released yours and lands on your head, smoothing your hair as his hips fight to keep still. Your head bobs up and down, your spit mixing with his precum to leave a shining mess on his shaft.

He pats your head softly, the wet sounds of your mouth on him the only noise in the room. But then he's opening his mouth, and he's combing his fingers through your hair, and he's mumbling, "thank you, sweet pea," just quiet enough that you think you're imagining it.

Maybe you did. He doesn't say it again, and you don't look up to see how wrecked he looks. You're content to remain on your knees the entire day if it means he can relax, let go of whatever's haunting him.

But then he's pulling your head back, his cock leaving your mouth with a wet pop. Hands under your arms, he tugs you to stand in front of him. This time you do let yourself look at him, but his eyes don't lift to meet yours. He tugs your shorts and panties from your body, and once you step out of them he splays his hands on the backs of your thighs to pull you onto his lap.

His head is still tipped toward where your bodies rest against each other, rocking your pelvis against the length of his cock with a shuddering sigh. But you don't mind the view; you sit just a few inches taller than him in this position, so you can brace yourself against his shoulders, your chin resting against the top of his head.

He reaches down to rub a few quick circles on your clit, and you let him move your hips when he's ready, lodging his cock at your entrance. You're dripping, you have been this entire time, but you'd shoved down the heady desire that had punched its way through your body until he was ready. Now, with his hand guiding his tip into your sopping cunt, you let out a breath. There he is, a voice in your head repeats.

He pushes your hips down at an agonizingly slow pace, your pussy swallowing every inch of him, the sounds of your moans colliding at the feeling. "So good to me," he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your sternum and tilting his head back, closing his eyes. "Perfect."

You know that he doesn't think he deserves your praise, but you give it to him anyway. "That's it," you hum, squirming with his cock buried to the hilt. It's all you can do not to lift your hips and drag yourself up and down his length. "Take what you need, Joel."

He never lasts long when he can feel your walls squeezing his cock for all it's worth, your body betraying you when your mind just wants to remain warm and wet and ready for him all day long, until he's ready to be done with you. But with one look at you, his dark eyes finally connecting to yours, he blinks. "Thank you, sweat pea," he murmurs again.

You lift your thumb to his forehead and you trace the lines on his weathered skin, watching as your touch releases the tension from his face. All that's left is his desire, his need for you, however distracted it may be.

Joel lets himself enjoy this, as he rocks his hips into yours, the head of his cock brushing that spot deep inside you until you're shaking in his hands, forehead tipped against his as you let your moans fill the space between the two of you. He lifts your hips, pulling you nearly all the way off of him until he shoves you back down, the delicious squelch of your pussy on his cock wrenching a knee-buckling groan from his lips. "Where?" he asks, as he does every time.

You don't need to tell him, but you do. "Fill me up, Joel," you coo, a shot of pleasure spreading throughout your entire body. "Come with me, I'm right here with you."

"That's it, darlin'," is all he groans before he's wrapping his arms around your back, tugging your chest to him in a tight embrace. His face disappears into the space between your breasts and you feel his entire body quiver with yours as you reach your peak. Warmth floods your core as he spills his release into you, your walls fluttering with the intensity of your orgasm. You pull him to you, returning his near-painful embrace.

You're as close as lovers, as close to one another as you can physically get, but it'll never be enough.

The high after he comes inside you is fleeting. Only a few minutes pass before the line inevitably returns to his brow and his frown deepens after he softens. He doesn't lift you off of him, though, so you soak up the feeling while you can.

"Better?" you whisper, eyes locked on his.

He nods slowly after a moment, his mouth set in a grim line. "Always," he mumbles gently, his hand cupping your jaw as his thumb strokes your bottom lip. He presses his thumb into your mouth to the first knuckle, letting you taste salt and old sweat and your nectar on his skin.

You know better than to believe him, but you don't argue. Not today, never today. So you lift the corners of your lips in a sad smile and pretend that it doesn't feel like water rising in your lungs every time this day comes.

but we don't have to talk about it

i can walk you home and practice method acting

i'll pretend being with you doesn't feel like drowning

tellin' you it's nice to see how good you're doing

even though we know it isn't true

Joel will never tell you what's on his mind. Never today. September 26th won't ever mean anything to you, so why would he bother? For him, it's everything and nothing all at once. Brown curls and sparkling young eyes and blood crusted on his arms and the unforgettable weight of death in his arms.

Another year older, he sighs, his heart clenching in grief. Another year older, and another year further from everything he's lost.

tysm for reading, here's a box of tissues. :') i love u all