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[vunblr]

The Weight of Choices

Pairing: Ex-husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Unprotected sex, dirty talk. A little angst.

Summary: Torn between his instinct to protect his family and his desire to be a part of their lives, Bucky tries to deal with the reality of his ex-wife going on a date while he stays home caring for their son.

Word Count: About 8.9k.

He was late. If Y/n didn’t know better, she’d think he was doing it on purpose. Bucky had agreed to watch their son tonight so she could go on a date, the third one since their divorce two years ago. The last couple of times, she’d managed to find a friend to babysit, but Saturday nights were always tough. So in the end, she had no choice but to come clean and ask Bucky.

She could still hear his voice from that awkward phone call, his tone edged with surprise when she’d told him she had plans.

“A date?” he repeated, the edge of disbelief was hard to miss.

"Yeah," she’d replied casually, but Bucky’s silence lingered longer than usual. He hated texting, so phone calls had become their norm, even for the smallest of things.

“With who?” His attempt to sound nonchalant fell flat, the tension was evident, threading through every word.

“Chris,” she said, keeping her tone light, “You know, the music teacher at the kindergarten where I work? Blonde, easy smile... we walked past him once when he was out with his dog, Dodger.”

Bucky scoffed, the bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. “I knew it. I knew he had a thing for you.”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Oh, please.”

“Every time I’d drop by the kindergarten, he’d just… linger. His eyes followed you the whole time like he couldn’t look away. People don’t stare like that unless they’re thinking something. And the way he’d smile, all soft and attentive, he was trying too hard to be just a ‘friendly co-worker.” His voice had dropped a notch, as his irritation crept in.

“Are you serious?” she shot back, incredulous. But Bucky wasn’t done.

“How long’s this been going on?” The question came out more like an accusation.

“It’s our first date. You know I only recently started dating again,” she replied, her patience wearing thin.

He paused, clearly unsatisfied. “So what, he’s just been waiting for his chance, ready to pounce-”

“I’m going to stop you right there, James,” she interrupted firmly. “You’re not entitled to know anything about my love life the moment you decided you wanted the divorce.”

There was an uncomfortable silence on the line. She could hear him breathing, and the tension stretched between them, until finally, he sighed.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “I’m sorry, that was out of line. I’ll take care of Benjamin on Saturday night.”

The recall of the conversation was interrupted by Ben, who wanted to show her what he did with his Legos.

Bucky had been sitting in front of the house for half an hour now. Sometimes, like tonight, he regretted what he’d done, but deep down, he knew it had been necessary. After the terrifying incident when Hydra agents attempted to kidnap their son, hoping to test if any of the serum’s powers had been passed down genetically, he realized that his past would eventually catch up with them. He had to make sure they were safe, even if it meant tearing apart everything they’d built.

He knew she wouldn’t understand if he told her the truth. If he had laid out his fears and his guilt and spiraled into a self-deprecating parade like he always did, she would have fought him and convinced him to stay. So he waited.

He knew the only way to make her believe it, was to weave in just enough truth to his argument, so, slowly he began pulling away, setting the stage for what would be his ultimate break. Late nights, distant conversations, an almost non-existent sexual life and missed moments with their son, all led to this. He needed her to see that the life they had wasn’t something he could carry anymore.

When the moment came, he didn’t hesitate. He told her he felt suffocated by their life together. That the roles of husband and father were more than he could bear after everything he had been through. She didn’t believe him at first, and he could see the determination in her eyes, the will to fight for what they had.

So, he played the card he knew would make her stop fighting him. He spoke of the years he’d spent as a puppet, how he had never truly known freedom, never had control over his life. He appreciated everything she had done for him, all the love and support she had given, but it wasn’t enough. He needed air, space to figure out who he was beyond the roles he had been forced into. He made it sound like staying with her, staying in the family they’d built, was just another form of captivity.

It crushed her. Bucky could see the moment her resistance faded. She believed him, not because she wanted to, but because he made it seem so real. So she stood there, heartbroken, but unable to argue against the logic he’d presented.

The first months after the divorce were hard on both parts. For her, that time was the hardest, filled with sleepless nights and the nagging feeling that Bucky had simply abandoned her, walked away from their life, their love, without a second thought. She wrestled with the confusion and the heartbreak, trying to piece together where things had gone wrong. For Bucky, it was a different kind of suffering. He bore the weight of his decision in silence, knowing he had walked away to protect them, but that didn’t ease the sting of loneliness or the guilt that clawed at him.

Their lives moved on separately. They saw each other only in passing, and even that was rare. Bucky would pick up Benjamin directly from daycare once a week, dropping him off the next morning before heading back to his life, careful to avoid lingering long enough for awkward conversations. Sometimes he didn’t make it at all, missing his time with his son when missions pulled him away. Immersing himself in his work was easier than facing what he had left behind, the family he still wanted but couldn’t allow himself to have. Meanwhile, she did her best to create some normalcy for Benjamin, even as the space Bucky left behind echoed through their small home.

Even though their lives had drifted apart, Bucky never truly let go. He kept his distance, but never far enough to lose sight of them. Unbeknownst to her, he knew everything that went on in the household, the daily rhythms of their life, the way she struggled and adapted to her new normal without him. From the shadows, Bucky lurked unnoticed in the neighborhood, always keeping an eye on them. She never noticed, never had a clue that even when he was away on missions, he somehow knew when Benjamin caught a cold or when she had a rough day at work.

It was a secret vigil that gave him a twisted sense of comfort, knowing they were safe even if they no longer shared the same home. He would catch fleeting glimpses of her tucking their son into bed or hear his faint laughter playing in the yard. It was enough to remind him of what he’d lost, but not enough to bring him back to the life he believed he couldn’t have.

That was why Bucky was caught off guard when she mentioned her date with that guy, the music teacher. He never saw that coming. He had always known the man had a soft spot for her, could see it in the way he acted whenever she was around, how he lingered a little longer during pick-ups at the kindergarten, helping to manage the children even if it wasn’t his job, always with an excuse to retain her and talk. His body language was an open book. But back then, Bucky had dismissed him as harmless, barely giving him a second thought. To him, Chris had always been like a friendly Labrador: approachable, with no bite. A non-threat.

But now, that harmless Labrador had grown fangs. The guy wasn’t just hanging around the edges anymore; he was stepping in, taking her to dinner, moving into a space Bucky had once occupied. And he had no choice but to suck it up and watch it happen, watch her walk out the door with him. He could handle the distance, the brief moments of tension when they had to interact, but this? The idea of Chris sitting across from her at a candlelit table, making her laugh, holding her gaze... it twisted his guts.

And God knows what else would happen after dinner. Would Chris try to kiss her goodnight? Would she let him? Or worse, would they end up back at his place? His mind ran wild with the possibility of them taking things further, crossing a line he never wanted to imagine. Would she let him touch her in ways Bucky used to, let him see sides of her only he had known? He knew he had no right to feel this way, but it didn’t stop the thoughts from torturing him.

Eventually, he glanced at the clock and sighed, raking a hand through his hair. There was no point in torturing himself any further, he couldn’t postpone the inevitable any longer.

Reaching the front porch, Bucky hesitated for a moment. He straightened his posture adjusting his clothes, then knocked on the door. As he waited, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to shake off the tension.

When the door finally swung open, for a split second, neither of them spoke. Her eyes widened just a little, her lips parting as she took him in. It had been a long time since she’d seen him. His hair had grown back to shoulder length, a few strands falling loose across his forehead. A three-day stubble sharpened his jawline, in a way that made him look rugged and effortlessly handsome. And was he wearing that shirt? The red and black lumberjack one that used to drive her wild?

Bucky caught her reaction and hit him like a shot of adrenaline. When he exited the bathroom that night and picked what to wear, he told himself it was just practical, something comfortable to wear while watching and playing with Ben. The cologne? Just a habit. But deep down, a part of him knew the truth: he wanted her to notice, and that split-second when her eyes widened, scanning him from head to toe, told him everything. She noticed. She definitely noticed. And something about that felt like a victory, even though he wasn’t supposed to be playing that game anymore.

He stared at her longer than necessary, his blue gaze drifting over the black dress she wore. New, he realized. It hugged her body in all the right places, accentuating her curves in a way that was impossible to ignore. The hemline? Too short for his liking. He clenched his jaw slightly, knowing full well Chris would be thrilled to see her like this.

Forcing himself to snap out of it, Bucky cleared his throat and broke the silence. “Hey,” he said, low and calm, though the tension still simmered beneath the surface. “You look... good.” He meant it, but the words tasted bitter.

"Thanks," she said, politely but distant, deliberately choosing not to compliment him back. She lingered for a moment, then added, “You’re late.”

Bucky flinched inwardly at the remark, though he kept his expression neutral. "Traffic," he muttered, stepping inside as she moved aside to let him in. An awkward silence settled between them, the air thick with things left unsaid.

Her fingers toyed with the edge of her dress as she cleared her throat, trying to fill the silence. “Ben is in the bathroom,” she said, casually, but there was a tension beneath it. “You can wait for him in the living room.”

“Right,” Bucky replied, nodding stiffly. He walked past her and into the living room, the space feeling both familiar and foreign at the same time. He took a seat, trying to shake off the strange energy between them, but his mind kept wandering back to the fact that she was dressed for someone else.

A moment later, the doorbell rang, and she turned toward the sound, visibly relieved. She opened the door, and Bucky heard Chris’s voice, a cheerful greeting that she surely responded to with a soft, warm smile. Bucky didn’t need to see it, her tone was different with him, softer, more open.

“Hey,” Chris said with bright tone, though there was a subtle shift when he paused. There was a beat of silence before he added, “You look amazing.”

Bucky couldn’t help it. Something pulled him from the couch, and before he knew it, he was standing in the hall, watching the interaction from a few feet away. His eyes narrowed as he observed Chris, sizing him up instinctively. Chris was taller than he remembered, clean-cut in a casual but neat button-down shirt, his easy smile faltering just a fraction when his eyes darted past her, catching sight of Bucky standing there.

Chris’s brows furrowed, but he quickly masked his reaction, giving Bucky a curt nod. “Uh, hey,” he greeted awkwardly, glancing between them.

It was her turn to narrow her eyes. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw him. Bucky stood at the edge of the hallway, staring directly at Chris, his expression unreadable. His eyes locked onto the man without blinking. He wasn’t moving, wasn’t saying anything, just staring.

Inwardly, she rolled her eyes. Really? A display of male dominance, here and now? After everything he’d put her through, the mess he’d made of their lives, he suddenly decided he had the right to act territorial? What exactly did he think he was entitled to? The nerve of it sent a wave of irritation through her, tightening her grip on her coat.

But what frustrated her even more -what really troubled her- was that a part of her didn’t mind. Beneath her annoyance, something stirred, deep and undeniable, lurking just beneath the surface. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but his presence still had a hold on her. Maybe it didn’t bother her as much as she wanted to believe. Maybe, despite everything, there was still a part of her that reacted to him, to the way he watched her, the way he used to make her feel like the center of his world.

Before those feelings could rise any further, before she could let herself dwell on what they meant, she quickly turned back to Chris. She forced a bright smile, pushing away the conflicted thoughts swirling in her mind.

“We should get going,” she said, pretending not to notice the tension still hanging in the air. She stepped closer to Chris, signaling it was time to leave, hoping to put some distance between her and the weight of Bucky’s gaze.

As the door clicked shut behind them, Bucky stood frozen in place for a moment, the tension that had gripped him not easing, even with their absence. The quiet of the house felt heavier now, pressing down on him. His chest tightened as he stared at the closed door, half-expecting her to walk back in. Of course, she didn’t.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he replayed the scene in his head: her standing there, beautiful and confident, and Chris… that guy was so normal, so easygoing. Exactly what she deserved. Exactly what Bucky could never be. He raked a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling to the surface. What was he even doing? He had no right, he was the one who walked away. He was the one who made her believe she wasn’t enough to keep him, that he wanted out. And now, here he was, silently raging because she was moving on, exactly like he supposedly wanted.

Stupid. That was the only word he could come up with to describe how he felt. Stupid for showing up looking the way he did, stupid for thinking that maybe, just maybe, he could still affect her. But what for? His job was to protect her and their son from the shadows, not to stand in the doorway, playing the part of some jealous lover. But God, it hurt more than he expected.

He crossed the living room, his steps heavy against the floor, and slumped into the couch. The house was eerily quiet, save for the faint sound of the TV in the background. Ben was still in the bathroom, probably playing with the liquid soap and making a mess, unaware of the tangled web of emotions his father was caught in.

The hours slipped by, though Bucky barely noticed at first. Benjamin was beyond excited to have his dad all to himself for the evening. They played, joked, and built elaborate lego fortresses, the boy’s laughter filling the house with a warmth Bucky hadn’t realized he missed so much. For a little while, he was able to shove everything else to the back of his mind. Being a dad, just a dad, felt like a relief. But every now and then, his gaze would drift to the clock on the wall. He couldn’t help it. As much as he tried to stay in the moment with his son, there was a lingering pull, a constant, nagging thought of where she was.

After he’d put Ben to bed, Bucky’s mind wandered back to the date. The image of her in that black dress haunted him, the way Chris had looked at her, the possibility of what might have happened after dinner. His thoughts spiraled, even though he knew it was none of his business anymore. He poured himself a scotch, the amber liquid swirling in his glass as he tried -and failed- to push the thoughts aside.

Eventually, the sound of the front door opening cut through the quiet. The familiar click of her shoes against the entryway tile echoed through the house, sharp and distinct. She was home.

Bucky didn’t move. He stayed where he was, seated at the old teakwood table, nursing his scotch. The only light on in the house was the dim glow above the kitchen, so she’d find him.

The sound of her footsteps grew closer, and he listened intently, his heart beating just a little faster despite his best efforts to keep calm.

She entered the kitchen, her steps a little less steady than usual, mumbling a soft “Hi” as she made her way inside. Bucky glanced up, immediately sensing that she was a little tipsy. She didn’t meet his eyes, just plopped down in the chair next to him with a tired sigh. “God, my feet are killing me,” she muttered, kicking off her heels and wincing.

For a while, the silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant hum of the fridge. She sighed absentmindedly, then reached for his glass of scotch, taking a sip without asking. He was taken aback by the casual intimacy of the gesture, but he said nothing, just watched her as she leaned back in her chair.

Before he could stop himself, the words slipped out. “Want me to rub your feet?” He froze. He couldn’t believe he’d said it, half-expecting her to snap at him or give him one of her sharp retorts.

But instead, she surprised him. She looked over at him, her eyes tired but soft, and then shrugged. “Yeah...” she said, a little more relaxed than he expected.

Bucky blinked, caught off guard by her response. His heart thudded against his ribcage as he moved toward her, kneeling down in front of her chair. His fingers hovered hesitantly over her ankle before gently wrapping around it, lifting her foot onto his knee.

As he began to knead his thumbs into her sore muscles, the tension that had been brewing in him all night seemed to ease, just a little. Her head lolled back against the chair, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

He couldn’t believe he was doing this, touching her again in this way, after everything. He shouldn’t, but she didn’t seem to mind. If anything, she seemed to relax more as the seconds passed, letting her guard down in a way that felt dangerously familiar.

“So... how was the date?” Bucky’s voice was quiet, almost too casual as he broke the silence.

Her eyes fluttered open at the question, and for a moment, he thought she might brush him off or remind him that it wasn’t his business. But instead, she gave a small shrug, her tone indifferent. “It was fine.”

Bucky frowned slightly, pressing his thumbs a little harder into the arch of her foot. He wasn’t sure if it was frustration or something else pushing his hands. “Fine?” he echoed, trying to keep his voice even.

“Yeah,” she murmured, closing her eyes. Her voice was soft, almost distracted. “Just... fine.”

He wasn’t satisfied with that. He couldn’t help himself, he pressed, his tone still light but with a thread of tension beneath it. “Only... fine?”

She sighed, her eyes still closed as if trying to keep the conversation from getting deeper. “What do you want me to say, Bucky?” Her voice wasn’t sharp, but there was a subtle edge in her words. “That it was amazing? That he swept me off my feet? Some dirty little details?”

Bucky’s fingers stilled for a moment, resting against her foot as he met her gaze. He didn’t respond right away, unsure if he even wanted to hear the truth, whatever it might be. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice a little more vulnerable than he intended.

“It was just fine, nothing more, nothing less”

A silence settled between them, but he wasn’t ready to let it drop. “Are you going to see each other again outside work?” he ventured, his hands slowly moving up her shin, his touch hesitant but growing bolder. The fact that she didn’t push him away emboldened him further. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

Bucky’s hands continued their slow ascent, fingers brushing over her calf and then her knee, his touch firm but careful. When she didn’t pull away, he felt his pulse quicken. The silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of things unsaid.

“In a way,” she finally answered, her voice elusive, a touch distant. She shifted slightly in her chair, subtly parting her thighs as his hands wandered higher. The movement was small, but enough for him to catch it. His breath hitched, and his gaze flicked down to her legs before rising back up to her face, darkening with lust.

"Care to... elaborate?" he pressed again, his voice lower now, rougher. His fingers slid up to her inner thigh, lingering there with a possessive grip as if testing her reaction. Her legs instinctively spread wider beneath his touch, and that simple motion sent a rush of heat through him.

She shifted slightly, as if searching for the right words. "He’s... nice," she finally said, a bit breathless under his touch. "He’s thoughtful, considerate, makes me laugh…” Her lips twitched in a small smile, but it quickly faded as she looked down at his hand resting on her thigh. “He’s... good.”

Bucky’s thumb paused, pressing a little harder, as he leaned in closer, his voice barely above a murmur. “…And?”

She sighed, her eyes opening again to meet his intense gaze. “And… he’s not you.”

His grip on her thigh tightened involuntarily, his breath catching in his throat. He’d pushed her away, done everything he could to sever the ties between them, convinced himself it was for her protection. But now, hearing her admit that, it sent his head spinning.

“He’s not you.”

The room seemed smaller, the air heavier, as the tension between them crackled like electricity. His hand inched higher, dangerously close to where he could feel the heat radiating off her body. Every instinct in him screamed to close the distance, to take what he wanted, to forget everything that had led them to this point. But he forced himself to stop, his gaze locking onto hers, searching her face for any sign that she would tell him to stop.

She didn’t. Instead, she held his gaze, her breathing shallow as if waiting to see what he would do next.

Bucky’s grip tightened again. Fuck it. He leaned forward, pressing his face against her other inner thigh, his stubble grazing her skin as he inhaled her scent deeply, a growl rumbling in his chest. She tensed, feeling him nip gently at her sensitive flesh, and then a slow, deliberate lick followed, sending a shiver through her.

"Did he behave, or..." he paused, his tongue teasing the same spot before he looked up at her, his lips brushing her thigh as he continued, "...things got handsy?"

A gasp escaped her when she felt his mouth so dangerously close to where she wanted it most. Her head tilted back just slightly, her body betraying her as desire pooled in her belly. His eyes flicked up, meeting hers, their blue depths darkened with lust, and something more. His lips remained pressed against her skin, refusing to budge until he had his answer.

"You let him touch you?" His voice was a husky whisper, laced with jealousy.

She exhaled slowly, her breath shaky as the memory flickered through her mind. "Yes," she admitted, her voice low, reluctant. "But just briefly, when we ki—"

Before she could finish, Bucky’s hand shifted, moving up to cup her mound, his fingers pressing firmly against the damp fabric of her underwear. Her words died in her throat, a sharp intake of breath replacing them as his touch ignited a fire that spread through her veins. His hand was deliberate, unapologetic in the way it claimed her, the heel of his palm pressing against her pussy as if he had every right to be there.

"And then?" His question hung in the air, but she couldn’t find the words immediately.

Her lips parted as she finally spoke, barely above a whisper. "I wanted to feel something... but I didn’t. I just didn’t."

Her confession landed between them like a spark to dry wood, setting the tension ablaze. Bucky’s hand remained where it was, but his thumb stroked over the wet fabric, teasing her, testing her resolve as his gaze bore into hers. She had said what he needed to hear, what he craved to know, and now, there was no turning back.

Bucky’s thumb slid the fabric of her underwear aside, his fingers unhesitating as they slipped between her folds, finding her slick with need. He brushed upward, just barely grazing her clit, watching with dark, heavy-lidded eyes as she gasped at the contact. Her body arched involuntarily, but he didn’t relent, keeping his movements slow and deliberate, teasing her just enough to drive her crazy but not enough to give her what she craved.

“And…” he murmured, rasping against the tension rising between them, “how long did it take you to realize you’d had enough? That it wasn’t going to work?”

His thumb circled lazily, making her hips shift forward, chasing the friction he barely offered. The question hung in the air, laced with his possessiveness, through every word. He didn’t wait for an answer, his fingers delving deeper inside her, coating themselves in her arousal before they moved back up, brushing over her clit again, this time with more pressure.

"One kiss?" His lips curled in a half-smirk as he watched her face contort with pleasure. He dipped his fingers inside her again, slow, dragging them out just as leisurely. "Two?"

She trembled, unable to form a coherent response, the sensation of his touch overwhelming her senses after so long. Her breath hitched as his fingers increased their pace, every stroke purposeful, designed to unravel her. Bucky leaned upward, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he murmured, “How long, doll?” The way he said it, like a dare, made her heart race even faster.

Her head fell back, her body betraying any attempt at control as she whispered breathlessly, “One…”

A satisfied growl rumbled from him, his fingers rewarding her honesty with a firmer stroke, sending her spiraling closer to the edge.

It wasn’t fair. He had cast her aside, almost without looking back, tearing her world apart with his cold departure. And now here she was, grinding her pussy against his fingers like some desperate, needy whore, begging for more. A part of her wanted to slap him, to shove him away and scream at him for every sleepless night she spent wondering why she wasn’t enough, why he had thrown their life away so easily. She wanted to tell him how much she hated him for walking out on them.

But then, there was that traitorous side of her. The part that had never stopped hoping. The part that had always waited, held out some foolish, silent hope that he’d come back. That she’d see that flicker of warmth in his eyes again, the one that told her she was his entire world. And it wasn’t just her heart that longed for him, her body had missed him, too. She hated herself for it. For still thinking about him late at night when she touched herself, fingers slipping between her thighs as his name slipped from her lips in the darkness.

And that same traitorous side of her had ruined her date with Chris. She’d tried to be present, to laugh, to be charmed by his warm smile and thoughtful gestures. But all night, all she could think about was Bucky.

The way he’d looked at him, cold and assessing, as if he didn’t belong there, his presence filling the hallway like he still had some claim to it, to her. What was he trying to prove, anyway? That he was still the man of the house?

She hated how, even while Chris was talking, her mind drifted back to the feeling of Bucky’s fingers tracing his stupid shirt, her memory filling in the rough, familiar feel of his hands on her skin. And she knew, even if she couldn’t admit it aloud, that some part of her had wanted him to see her dressed up, to feel in some small way the longing and ache she’d carried in his absence.

And maybe that’s why she’d felt nothing when Chris had leaned in for a kiss, why his gentle smile and soft touches had felt hollow. Even his laugh, light and kind, hadn’t stirred her because it wasn't Bucky’s rough, rumbling chuckle or his stupidly confident grin. Bucky, in all his infuriating ways, still occupied every corner of her mind.

Her breath came in shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly as his fingers worked her closer to the edge. She wanted to be angry, to let that rage consume her, but every time she opened her mouth to say something hurtful, to lash out at him, her body betrayed her. Every roll of her hips against his hand, every needy whimper that slipped from her throat, reminded her of just how much she had missed this.

It wasn’t fair. But she couldn’t stop.

With a light pinch on her swollen clit, the tension snapped, and she came hard on his fingers. Her mouth fell open, a moan escaping as her body convulsed, riding the wave of pleasure that coursed through her. The world blurred around her as her climax took over, her hips grinding against his hand, chasing every last second of the release.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, a mix of the overwhelming pleasure and the emotional storm swirling inside her. A few finally escaped, rolling silently down her cheeks, but before she could turn away, Bucky was there, his lips brushing them away with surprising tenderness. His breath ghosted over her skin as he whispered soft, comforting words she could barely make out, something about how beautiful she was, how good she had been for him, as if they hadn’t been tangled up in all this pain and heartache.

His touch was almost reverent as he slowly withdrew his fingers, slick and glistening from her release. Their gazes met, and he didn’t break eye contact as he brought those same fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with deliberate, agonizing slowness. He stood up in one fluid motion, effortlessly lifting her from the chair by the waist as if she weighed nothing, and in a swift, controlled movement, he placed her on top of the table, positioning himself between her legs.

Before she could even process it, his arms were around her, pulling her into a bear hug that was both tight and needy. His face buried itself in the crook of her neck, his breath warm against her skin as he inhaled deeply, taking her in.

He held her as if letting go was not an option, his grip firm yet strangely vulnerable. The way he clung to her felt like both a claim and an apology, urgent -almost broken- like he was holding onto her not just physically, but emotionally, too.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll leave,” he murmured against her skin, his voice rough and low, against her neck. He didn’t dare look at her, not yet, because if he did, if he saw doubt or rejection in her eyes, it would break him.

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Each second felt like an eternity. His breath was uneven, ragged, as he waited for her to say something, anything. Another moment passed, tension coiling tighter in his chest until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He lifted his head, his gaze searching hers, bracing himself for the worst. But instead of the words that would send him away, he saw her eyes flicker downward to his lips. It was brief, a split-second decision, but it was enough.

So he leaned in, cautiously at first, like he was testing the waters after years of distance. His lips brushed against hers softly, almost hesitant, as if afraid this fragile moment would break apart. But the second she responded, it was like a dam broke. His hands cradled her face, deepening the kiss with desperation. It was messy, all-consuming, there was no gentleness, no tenderness. This was not the careful, delicate dance of two people testing the waters. This was hunger, a ravenous need to reclaim what had been lost. His lips moved down to her jaw, her neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, and she moaned softly, her fingers tightening in his hair as he sucked on the sensitive skin below her ear.

His hands gripped her waist, strong and possessive, pulling her closer until her body was flush against his. The need to feel her, to claim her, was overwhelming. It was like two years of silence, longing, and frustration had ignited in an instant, everything that had been pushed down now surging forward, unstoppable.

“I’ll ask you again, babydoll. Are you sure you want this?” Bucky’s voice was thick with restraint, the tension in his muscles barely contained as he hovered over her, his breath hot against her neck. He was giving her one last chance to stop this, to pull away, even though every fiber of his being was screaming for her. But instead of words, her answer was a quiet, deliberate motion. Her hand slid between them, deftly unbuttoning his jeans, her fingers brushing against the outline of his erection.

A low growl escaped him, and his hand shot down to catch her wrist, halting her movements. His gaze met hers, dark and intense, his chest heaving with barely restrained desire. “I need you to say it,” he murmured, voice rough, on the edge of control.

“Yes,” she whispered.

That was all he needed.

Without hesitation, he pulled his shirt over his head in one swift motion, not bothering with the buttons, his muscles flexing as the fabric slid off. The moment his skin was free, he didn’t give himself time to think. His eyes locked on hers as he grabbed the neckline of her dress. With a sharp tug, the fabric tore easily under his grip, the sound of it ripping filling the air. The dress fell to her waist, exposing her bare breasts to his gaze.

“Hey! It was brand new, you know?” she protested.

“I noticed,” he replied, his fingers grazing the tattered edge of her dress. “But you didn’t buy it to wear it for me, did you?” His voice dropped, thick with jealousy as he alluded to her date with Chris. He dipped his head, his lips hovering just above her exposed skin, his breath warm against her chest. “I don’t want it on you”. He latched his lips onto her nipple, his tongue swirling with a hungry need, while his vibranium fingers pinched and teased her other breast. His breath was hot against her chest as he whispered between kisses, “You have no idea how much I’ve missed this... missed you.” His words came out rough, full of longing that he couldn’t hold back any longer. “Every night... thinking about touching you again. Tasting you. Making you come over my cock.”

Her body responded, arching into him. She bit her lip, trying to stifle a moan, afraid that maybe Ben could hear her, but it slipped out anyway.

His hands moved to her thighs, gripping them firmly as he let out a low growl. “I thought about this, over and over... how you’d feel under me, how you’d sound when I made you scream my name again.” His voice was thick, hoarse, as he tugged at her dress, tearing the fabric completely until it was nothing but rags on the floor. He didn’t stop there, his thumbs slipping under the waistband of her flimsy panties. With a swift tug, the seams gave way, tearing effortlessly in his hands. He brought the soaked cloth to his nose, inhaling deeply, groaning as if the scent alone was enough to drive him insane. “God, I’ve missed this,” he muttered, his eyes never leaving hers. He flicked his tongue against the ruined cloth, savoring the taste with a low, hungry growl.

Without warning, he tossed the panties aside. His hands moved quickly, unbuttoning what remained of his jeans and kicking off his shoes before sliding the denim and underwear down in one fluid motion. They hit the floor with a soft thud as he stepped toward her. “Tell me how much you missed me,” he demanded softly.

She stared at him, drinking him in. He looked leaner, his body sculpted in sharp lines of muscle. He’d lost weight, surely by going mission after mission mixed with his poor eating habits. He was never good at taking care of himself. She almost missed the small paunch he used to have these last years, the one he hated, but she’d loved to bite. There was something comforting about that softness, but now he was the embodiment of raw strength.

Her gaze drifted lower, lingering on the sight of his cock, standing at full attention. She swallowed. Apparently, her memories failed to measure up to reality. He was big, sure, she’d always known that, but this big? Her core tightened with need, clenching in raw anticipation.

"I missed you,” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper, laced with longing as her eyes lifted to meet his. “So much… you have no idea. God, you’ve ruined me.”

Her words shattered whatever restraint he had left. He’d imagined, countless times, that if this moment ever came, he’d take his time, savor her, and make it last. But now, faced with her beneath him, so close and so ready, patience was a luxury he no longer possessed.

Without a second thought, he gripped her thighs and spread her wide on the table, lining himself up as he dragged the head of his cock along her entrance, coating himself in her slick heat. In a swift, desperate thrust, he drove into her, hard and deep, filling her completely as a ragged groan escaped his lips.

She cried out, her body responding immediately, arching into him as he slammed into her again. His hands gripped her hips with bruising force, and his own moved in a relentless rhythm, every thrust driving him deeper. He couldn’t stop. Her moans spurred him on, her words circling in his head like a drug.

“Ruined you, huh?” His breath was ragged as he pulled almost all the way out, teasing her with the loss, before slamming back in. “Let me remind you how much.” With a raw hunger that had been bottled up far too long, Bucky's thrusts became brutal, each one driving her back along the table, her nails scraping against the wood as he took her over and over. The grip on her hips was iron-hard, pinning her down so she could do nothing but take everything he gave her. He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear. “Think anyone else could ever do this?” he murmured, his voice dark and rough, each word punctuated by a powerful thrust. His lips ghosted along her jaw, and he pushed her to answer, knowing the effect he was having on her. “Tell me,” he demanded softly “Could anyone else make you feel like this?” He wanted her to say it, to make her admit that no one else would ever satisfy her the way he could.

She whimpered, clutching at his shoulders as he pounded into her, her nails digging into his skin as he pushed her higher and higher. “No… no one else.” Her words were broken, barely audible over her moans, but it was all he needed to hear.

“That’s right” he murmured against her lips, his voice low and rough, “No one else gets to touch you like this,” he breathed, each word laced with raw possession as he thrust deeper. “Only me,” he rasped. “Only I get to make you feel this way.”

He growled, one hand leaving her hip to slide between them, his fingers pressing down on her clit in quick, merciless circles. “This is mine,” he hissed, metal fingers working just enough to bring her close before pulling away, only to return just as she thought she couldn’t take any more.

She cried out, her body writhing beneath him as he drove her to the edge. His pace never faltered, his hips grinding against hers with a relentless rhythm, and his grip on her only tightened as she arched off the table, his name spilling from her lips like a prayer.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice thick with lust and something darker, something possessive. His hands slid down the back of her thighs, pushing her legs up against her torso as he plunged deeper, she could barely breathe every time he bottomed out. The way he hit her, the pressure at her cervix, sent shockwaves of pleasure-pain coursing through her, each one making her mewl helplessly. Her thighs shook against his chest, her hands desperately clutching at his forearms, fingers digging into his skin.

He leaned in closer again, his face inches from hers, his lips brushing her ears as he growled, “Tell me you’re mine.”

"I’m yours… fuck, Bucky!" she complied, her voice breaking between her panting breaths.

"Again," he ordered, his hips slamming into hers, the table creaking under the force of his movements. He could feel her walls clenching around him, so tight, so wet, he almost lost control then and there.

“I’m yours,” she whimpered again, her voice shaky, breathless.

“Chris will be so disappointed to hear that” he growled. “Let’s make sure you stay ruined, just in case.” He was relentless now, fucking her hard, deep, his body pressing hers further into the table as he pushed her thighs harder against her body giving him even better access, hitting that sensitive spot that left her gasping, his grip and the relentless pace leaving no room for anything but the sensation of him filling her completely, over and over.

She whimpered in response, too overwhelmed to speak, her entire body tensing as the pleasure became almost unbearable. His thumb moved between them again pressing against her clit, rubbing circles that sent sparks of heat shooting through her. She gasped, her eyes squeezing shut as her orgasm built rapidly, her body teetering on the edge.

“Milk my cock.” he ordered, his voice harsh, primal. His words pushed her over the edge and then she was gone, her body shivering violently as she clenched around him, her thighs tightening around him as her hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer. The sound of his name fell from her lips, half-whisper, half-cry as the climax gripped her, intense and all-consuming, leaving her a trembling, breathless mess.

“I’m gonna fill you up,” he growled through gritted teeth, his hips snapping into hers with bruising force. “And then some more,” he rasped, his voice thick with raw need. “You won’t even be able to keep it all in, babydoll.”

With a final thrust, Bucky’s head fell back, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he reached his climax. His body trembled, muscles tensing as he spilled himself inside her, a heated wave of release filling her completely. He held her there, his cock kept pulsing until his release overflowed, warm and thick, beginning to trickle down, pooling beneath them.

Still buried inside her, Bucky loosened his grip on her thighs, hands sliding down to cradle her waist as he leaned forward, his forehead resting gently against her shoulder. He nuzzled into the curve of her neck, breathing in her scent, grounding himself as the heat of their union slowly ebbed, replaced by a quiet intimacy that neither of them seemed prepared for.

After a moment, he gently eased himself away, untangling their bodies but letting his hands linger at her hips, as though afraid to lose the connection. He took a step back, his gaze dropping for a moment before lifting to meet hers, hoping she’d break the silence but she didn’t look at him, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.

Bucky’s chest tightened, a familiar pang surfacing as he watched her withdraw inward, her mind elsewhere despite the intimacy they’d just shared. Finally, she spoke, her voice low, tentative. “So… what now, Bucky?”

He took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “I don’t… I didn’t plan for this to happen,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as he forced himself to hold her gaze. “I know I shouldn’t have done this. Not after…” He hesitated, but the truth slipped out anyway. “Not after what I put you through.”

Her eyes narrowed, suspicion clouding her expression, old wounds resurfacing. “Then why did you put me through this, Bucky?” she asked, her voice soft but laced with pain. “You said you couldn’t do this. That you needed space, that we were holding you back.” Her words hung heavy in the air, each one a quiet accusation tinged with vulnerability. “And now, you’re here, acting like…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “…acting like you never left.”

He hesitated, knowing this was his chance to finally tell her the truth or let her keep believing the lie he’d used to protect them. He rubbed a hand over his face, then lowered it, meeting her gaze with raw honesty. “I didn’t leave because I didn’t want you,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “I left because I was afraid that my past... everything I tried to bury might come back to hurt you. Hurt him.” His voice softened. “I thought if you believed I didn’t want this life, it would keep you safe.”

He glanced down, his hand twitching at his side before he looked up again, his voice hushed but resolute. "But… I want to come back,” he admitted, the words raw, like they’d been buried deep for too long. “To the house. To you, and Benjamin.”

A chill lingered in the air, and she wrapped her arms around herself, gaze flicking over their scattered clothes still strewn across the kitchen floor. She looked away, her shoulders tense as she rubbed her temples. "So, what’s changed, Bucky? The risks are still there, the same threats, the same fears..."

Bucky’s gaze didn’t waver, his hand reaching out as though to touch her, but he stopped short, fingers brushing the edge of the table instead. "What’s different is me. I’ve had time to face what I couldn’t before. Stepping aside didn’t keep you safer; it just kept me away. I don’t want Ben growing up with a dad who keeps him and his mom at arm’s length. Almost a stranger.” His voice softened, the vulnerability seeping through. “Being apart from you doesn’t make things better. I miss you, doll. I miss us.”

“You can’t just leave and come back like nothing happened, Bucky.” Her voice was softer this time, almost breaking. “I wanted you here… every day, every night. Not just for me, but for Benjamin.” Her voice trembled with raw vulnerability.

He took a step closer, his hand hovering near hers, unsure if she’d pull away. “I know, and I hate that I ever thought leaving was the answer.” His tone was low, his gaze steady on her.

She looked down, her throat bobbing as she swallowed, emotions tightening her expression. “If you come back, I need to know you’re here to stay,” she whispered, the words more for herself than for him. “Because I don’t think I can go through this again… and I won’t let him either.” Her voice cracked on the last word, her hands gripping the table harder as if to keep herself grounded.

Her words shattered the last remnants of his restraint. Without another thought, Bucky dropped to his knees in front of her, the hard tile digging into him as he pressed his forehead against her thigh. She sucked in a breath, her hand instinctively moving to his hair, fingers trembling as they brushed against him. He could feel her hesitation, the walls she’d built so carefully to guard herself from the ache he’d left behind.

“Say yes,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with the vulnerability he could no longer hide. “Say yes, doll. I know I don’t deserve it.” His hands gripped her hips, anchoring him as if she were the only thing keeping him steady. “But I swear,” His voice cracked, raw and pleading. “I swear, I’ll never walk away again. Not from you, not from Benjamin.”

She looked down, a mix of shock and pain written on her face as she saw him there, broken, open, begging her for something she’d once offered so freely. Her hand gently settled on his cheek, and he leaned into the warmth of her touch, feeling the softness of her fingers against the rough stubble of his jaw. The ache in her eyes nearly undid him, but he stayed there, his forehead still pressed to her thigh, his breath heavy, waiting.

Her eyes searched his, and slowly, her resolve began to waver, the smallest flicker of trust finding its way back into her gaze. "Then prove it," she whispered, barely trusting herself as her hand lingered against his cheek, the warmth of her palm seeping into him. "Show me you’re here to stay."

After her words hung in the air, a fragile silence between them, Bucky’s gaze dropped. He swallowed, his hand reaching for something inside the scattered clothes on the floor.

From his back pocket, he drew out a small, well-worn leather charm, a little star-shaped pendant, its edges smoothened from years of handling. She recognized it immediately. It was something she’d passed on to him when he left for his first mission after they married, a symbol she hoped would keep him safe. She thought it had been lost long ago, like so many pieces of them.

He held it out to her, and the look on his face was raw, vulnerable in a way she hadn’t seen since the early days. “I never stopped carrying this,” he murmured, his voice rough and thick. “Even when I tried to convince myself I was doing the right thing by staying away. I couldn’t let go of you…of us. I kept it close, hoping… hoping someday I could come back and give it back to you. I know it doesn’t make up for the time I lost, but…” His voice faltered, the sincerity there unmistakable.

She stared at the pendant, her hand shaking slightly as she reached out, fingers grazing the familiar leather. All the memories it held, the late-night goodbyes, the whispered promises, the hope she’d once tied to it, all of it rushed back, filling the space between them.

She looked down at him, seeing in his eyes the weight of the years, the regrets, but also the glimmer of the man she’d fallen in love with.

Taking a shaky breath, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “This… this was supposed to keep you safe, Bucky. Keep us safe.”

“And it did,” he replied softly, his hand covering hers over the charm. “It kept you here.” He paused, his voice barely a murmur. “And maybe now… it can bring me back home.”

The last of her defenses wavered, and she felt herself letting go of the anger, the hurt, all the pieces that had kept them apart. “Maybe… maybe it was always meant to guide you back here,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his with a warmth he hadn’t seen in years. “So if you’re really here to stay… then welcome home, Bucky.”

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

[dorabellingham]

Our fist time

warning: insinuation of sexual relations

characters: jude x reader

summary: when in the guest room of your in-laws' house, you decide to have your first time.

may contain spelling and translation errors!

The room was filled with a heavy silence, the morning light filtering through the curtains and casting soft shadows across the walls. The mood was heavy with unspoken anticipation between you. You had had fun, teased each other, but now there was something more intense in the air, something you both knew you couldn’t ignore for much longer. Jude was staring at you, his eyes so deep that you felt like you were being examined, all your deepest secrets discovered. The way his fingers still played with the buttons of your pajamas was both light and tense, making your heart race with each touch. You could feel the adrenaline rushing through your veins, mixed with butterflies in your stomach, as you tried to piece together the words that would come out of your mouth.

—Babe… —Jude began, his voice low, almost a whisper. He leaned closer, his face so close you could feel his warm breath. —Do you really want me to stop?

You hesitated for a moment, your gaze fixed on his eyes. The answer was there, on the tip of your tongue, but the gravity of the situation made you hold back. It was a question that carried a weight that could not be ignored. You knew Jude was serious, and it made you nervous, but at the same time, excited.

—I… I don’t know.

You answered, your voice shaky, but full of hidden desire.

—What if I say I don’t want to stop? — Bellingham said, a mischievous smile dancing on his lips. He was clearly enjoying asking boundary-pushing questions, but there was a sincerity in his gaze that made you feel he wasn’t just joking. —I want you to be mine… right here, right now, in this little guest room.

The proposal left you speechless. You looked around the room, thoughts dancing in your mind. The little guest room in the Bellingham house had been a small, cozy space, but now it felt like a place full of possibilities. Jude was just inches away, his eyes intense and his expression serious. You could see the desire in him, almost palpable, and it made you feel alive.

—Jude… that’s…

You began, but he interrupted you.

—You don’t have to say anything. I just want to know if you want this as much as I do. —He replied, his voice low and firm. —I think we’re ready to take that step. It’s just you and me.

You felt your heart race, a mix of fear and excitement flooding your veins. You had never thought this moment would come so soon, but at the same time, you felt like you were about to give in to something that could change everything between you. The tension in the air was electric, and Jude’s proximity was making you lose your mind.

—What if… what if it’s not the right time?

You murmured, still hesitant, trying to find a thread of rationality in the storm of emotions.

—What if it is? —He countered, leaning a little closer, his breath hot on your skin. —We trust each other. I don’t want you to feel pressured, but… I feel like this moment could be special.

His gaze was intense, and you felt the pressure of the outside world disappear as everything around you focused on that moment. Life outside that room, the curious looks, the expectations… everything seemed irrelevant in the face of the intensity of what was about to happen.

—I want to.

You said, your voice barely above a whisper, but loud enough for Jude to hear.

The answer left him with a triumphant smile on his lips.

—Then let’s do it together.

He said, his tone soft but full of desire.

With a careful movement, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. His touch was warm, and you felt your heart race. You knew you were about to give yourself over to something great, something you would never forget. The room was full of promise, and the connection between you pulsed like a taut string, ready to let go.

Jude leaned in even closer, his lips almost touching yours, and you felt adrenaline rush through your body. It was a moment of vulnerability and surrender, and you were ready. Uncertainty gave way to desire, and Jude’s lips finally met yours in a soft but intense kiss.

The kiss started slowly, as if both of you wanted to absorb every second of that new discovery. But soon the heat grew, and he began to explore with his lips, deepening the kiss, making you lose yourself even more in the sensation.

You couldn't believe what was happening, the outside world disappearing, leaving only the two of you. Jude held you firmly, his fingers wrapping around your waist, while you lost yourself in the feeling of being so close to him. The fear and hesitation were quickly replaced by a wave of excitement and desire.

—Are you okay?

He murmured between kisses, his intense gaze searching for yours.

—Yes. —You answered, without hesitation. —I'm fine, babe!

With that confirmation, Jude pulled you even closer, as if he wanted to absorb your presence, and you knew that that moment was just for the two of you. The connection was strong, the electricity palpable, and as you let yourselves go, the guest room became a sacred space, where only you existed.

The kiss became more intense, and Jube began to explore with his hands, caressing your face and wrapping you in a warm embrace. You gave in, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to feel everything —the heat, the passion, the growing intimacy between them. It was a magical moment, a step that brought them even closer together.

—I want you, Y/n. —Jude said, his voice low and full of emotion. —I want you to know that you are special to me.

You smiled between kisses, feeling your heart race once more. It was all you wanted to hear. In that moment, you knew you were exactly where you were supposed to be, with Jude, in a safe and loving space, ready to explore the new phase of your relationship together.

[bumblesimagines]

Blood of The Dragon

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Still reeling from the death of Lucerys Velaryon and the failed assassination attempt that resulted in the death of Jaehaerys, Aemond seeks out his closest kin.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

TW/CW: Typical HOTD warnings, spoilers for S2, brief Targcest (Older Brother-Younger Brother), (Y/N) is the twin of Helaena, mentions of the deaths of children (Luke and Jaehaerys), blatant manipulation but Aemond is touch-starved so, potentially ooc Aemond im still figuring out how to write him, kinda short

WFMF may take a bit to come out y'all! I'm waiting to get my hands on the book again so I can finally decide if/what I'll change from the show and what I'll keep.

~~~

Aemond scarcely paid the Small Council meeting any heed, his gaze shifting between staring at his brother's exhausted, dead-eyed expression and studying the golden coin pinched between his thumb and index finger. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the design etched into the coin and felt a strike of dread squeeze around his throat. The coin continuously served as a reminder of how close Daemon's vermin had been to stealing the air from his lungs, and how cruelly they'd taken his little nephew's head instead. 

Aegon looked ruined, his anger and grief coaxing him into sinking further and further into his cups until he could no longer comprehend the words fleeing his mouth. Aemond found it pathetic most days, for the 'rightful' heir to be a whiny drunk, but now he found it in himself to be sympathetic toward him. Aemond knew little of losing a child but the death of an innocent child he watched grow up still struck pain in his gut. He never expected their older half-sister to be so cruel. 

With the meeting ending swiftly after reaching nothing new or useful, Aemond retreated from the room in long strides that took him down the many halls of the Keep. His thoughts continued in circles, reminding him of young Luke and the horror that'd washed over him when he watched Vhagar snap her jaws around him and his dragon. The younger dragon had fallen to bloody bits from the sky and into the vast ocean below, washing up on a beach or so he'd heard. He hadn't desired such an outcome but he knew his words would fall on deaf ears when everyone whispered 'Kinslayer' behind his back. 

Before he knew it, his legs had taken him to his older sister's room and he entered with some hesistance, unsure of what he could possibly say or do that'd ease the pain of losing a child. He immediately spotted Helaena seated on the floor with her skirt spread around her and her hands occupied with finishing an embroidery. Her fingers moved automatically, muscle memory from all the times she'd spent doing needlework. Her pale eyes remained distant, however, and red from constant weeping. Aemond always knew Helaena to be the most sensitive out of all his children but he'd never seen her cry before. 

"Aemond," Helaena's twin, (Y/N), greeted him, his head tilted downwards from his spot on the couch as he brushed out the knots in Helaena's hair until her silver hair was smooth and detangled enough to braid. He set the brush aside and began braiding, a process he'd long become acquainted with when young Helaena refused to be touched by the maids. "Do you require something?"

"I wished to see how our sister was doing," Aemond replied and clasped his hands behind his back, grimacing when his words brought no reaction out of their sister. She'd always been a girl of little words but she never failed to at least offer acknowledgment with short words or glances. Helaena merely continued to thread her needle through the fabric.

"She is tired, Aemond. We all are." (Y/N) spoke, finishing the braid and letting it rest along Helaena's back. He leaned forward and pressed a fleeting kiss to the top of her head, his hands sliding down to cup her elbows and help her rise onto her swaying feet. Aemond made no move to offer his help, for he knew it'd be rejected whilst Helaena remained in such a state. 

Aemond lowered his gaze to the floor and stepped aside, his head bowed as (Y/N) led Helaena to her bed and helped tug the covers up to her waist. He offered quiet words of comfort before peeling himself from the edge of the bed and approaching Aemond, casting him a brief glance as the two stepped outside.

(Y/N) lingered until the doors to her bedchambers shut and the guards resumed their positions, his arms folding over his chest and face unreadable, as was typical of his brother. The twins had always been an unpredictable sort, no one ever truly deciphering what went through their minds. Aemond found it troubling at times, being unable to read him as he did Aegon, but he trusted him regardless. 

"Where was Cole, I wonder." (Y/N) simply said, his feet moving and voice devoid of everything but a flicker of annoyance that tugged Aemond's attention toward him. The one-eyed prince caught up with his older brother in quick strides, the direction they headed in being toward (Y/N)'s own chambers.

"He claimed to be abed." (Y/N)'s lips pressed into a line at his response. Aemond's brow twitched upward. "Cole is-"

"Cole is but a child surrounded by toys yet desires the prettiest one, one that belongs to another and should never be allowed into his foolish hands." His brother looked him directly in the eye when the doors to his chambers were opened for him, violet eyes as cold as ever. "He is pathetic."

Aemond swiped his tongue over his dry lips and followed his brother inside the room, his fingers tightening around his wrist. "Do you speak of Ser Criston... or me, dear brother?" He asked once the doors shut, leaving them in the silence of (Y/N)'s bedchambers, the air as chilly as the attitude of the older Targaryen. (Y/N) scoffed quietly and poured himself tea that'd no doubt gone tepid in his absence. "Have I not served our King faithfully enough?"

The prettily decorated teapot clattered against the wood of the table it'd sat upon, (Y/N)'s head raising to stare at Aemond. "Ao tymptan Jaes se vēttan aōla iā mittys." Aemond could hear the anger in his tone, barely contained but somehow pushed back to slowly drip through. "The boy you needlessly slaughtered was no Velaryon but he was our sister's child. Īlva ānogar. They killed Jaehaerys to avenge that child, Aemond. Helaena paid the consequences of your actions."

"Would you have preferred they kill me instead, then?" Aemond bristled.

"I would have preferred hearing of your success at Storm's End and how the princeling returned to Dragonstone without an alliance." (Y/N) snapped back, curling his fingers around his teacup and sipping from its contents. Aemond inhaled deeply, his jaw clenching and unclenching; teeth slowly grinding together and the tension in his shoulders easing into a sag. 

Aemond walked forward, his hand lifting to tug the eyepatch from his face and letting it fall onto the table as he took a seat. (Y/N) followed his movements with keen eyes and a deep frown, one of the few times his brother so outwardly showed his disapproval toward him. They stared at each other for a few quiet moments, the coin searing a hole through Aemond's pocket. 

"I only meant to frighten him. I did not wish such harm upon him; I did not want him dead or gravelly injured. I... feel sorry for how things occurred between him and I. I did not... I did not mean to bring pain upon Helaena or Aegon." Aemond leaned forward, broad hands pressing into the back of (Y/N)'s thighs to pull him closer gently whilst his forehead rested along his lower stomach. He exhaled softly when (Y/N) placed his palm upon the back of Aemond's head, fingers running through his hair. "I allowed foolish emotions to best me." 

"Foolish emotions you've stewed in for years, Aemond. You are man-grown and a prince... a third-born son who will never sit the throne." His nostrils flared with a sharp inhale of air and he leaned away, back pressing into the chair and lips pressing tightly together. (Y/N) watched him, palm pressing back the strands that went astray with his movements before he curled his fingers around Aemond's chin and forced him to keep his head tilted upwards. "I am the King's heir, now that they've killed our poor nephew, just as you killed the other. Aegon had potential, Aemond, whether you believe it or not." 

"He is a drunk-"

"Yes, but he pleased the smallfolk before sinking into his cups. They were happy and eager to accept him as their ruler. He will now ignore them, and with the ever-impulsive Cole at his side... it will not be long before we are ruined by one or the other, Aemond." (Y/N)'s thumb delicately stroked along his cheek, his eyes softening but the coldness tittering at the edges. Aemond leaned into his touch, his knitted brows easing as he soaked in the words of his brother.

"Aegon cannot rule, and neither can Cole," Aemond murmured, pressing himself further into (Y/N)'s hand when his brother gave a nod. "What is it you believe we must do?"

"Rook's Nest. Our sister will not be allowed to turn her cheek away when Cole and Uncle's army descends upon it, and neither will Aegon. He desires to prove himself, you've seen it. He'll try to in battle... and when he does, he must.. fall to injury. Vhagar knows the taste of war, and with you as her rider, Cole will have no choice but to ignore whatever it is you do. The Council will favor me over Mother as regent whilst Aegon recovers."

"And what will you do once you are named Prince Regent?" 

(Y/N)'s lips curled upward and he bent down, both hands cupping Aemond's face to press their lips together. The action caught him by surprise, but the twinge of longing for a loving hand shot through his veins. The teachings from the septas and maesters told him it was wrong, but Targaryens were no ordinary men; the blood of the dragon coursed through them. Aemond pushed into him, rising from his chair to encircle his arms around (Y/N)'s waist. (Y/N)'s grip tightened and he forced Aemond to lean back.

"You... will be named Hand." (Y/N) told him, and Aemond's shoulders straightened, his single violet eye gleaming. He'd always be meant for such a position, and as much as Cole had been a father to him, he was still the mere son of a steward; someone hardly meant for the position of Hand.

(Y/N)'s grip loosened into a gentle touch, coaxing Aemond to lean into it once more. "I will not risk the fall of this family, Aemond, not like this. Enough of our sacred blood has been spilled. I will do what our mother and brother and grandsire failed to do. If Rhaenyra has withheld as much as she has in search of peace, I will test how desperate she is to obtain it."

[theonottsbxtch]

NO TIME TO DIE PT.3 | OP81

an: lando my sweetboy, what can i say

summary: a continuation of the skyfall series, following a peaceful few months away from the world they were so used to, they were found again. this time neither of them knew what could happen.

wc: 10k

warnings: mentions of death, comas

part one | part two |

The dim light of the safe house barely penetrated the heavy curtains, casting long shadows across the room. She sat at the small kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a lukewarm cup of coffee, the bitter taste grounding her as her thoughts swirled in chaos. Each tick of the clock seemed to echo the weight of the past week—the long, agonising days spent waiting, hoping, and working tirelessly to bring Oscar back.

After the incident in the medical room, the team had kept Oscar under close observation, sedating him whenever necessary, but he was still trapped within the confines of his mind, the programming deeply embedded. Every time she thought of him, her heart would clench with pain; she could still see the look in his eyes when he had attacked her, the absence of recognition, the fear that he might never return to her.

The door swung open, and Lewis entered, looking worn but determined. He had been working with George and Toto, analysing everything they could about Oscar’s condition, desperate to find a way to reverse the effects of the conditioning.

“Hey,” he said softly, taking a seat across from her. “How are you holding up?”

She shrugged, not trusting herself to speak. The truth was, she was hanging by a thread. Each day felt like a battle against despair, but she refused to give in. Not now, not when Oscar needed her the most.

“We’re making progress,” Lewis continued, his voice steady. “Toto and George are looking into a more effective way to reverse the programming. But it’ll take time. We can’t rush this.”

She nodded, forcing a smile. “I know. I just… I want him back. I hate seeing him like this.”

Lewis leaned forward, concern etched across his features. “We all do. But pushing too hard could do more harm than good. You need to take care of yourself, too.”

“I can’t think about myself right now,” she replied, her voice stronger than she felt. “Not while he’s… stuck.”

Lewis sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I get it. But we can’t afford to lose you, either. You’re going to need your strength for whatever comes next.”

She leaned back in her chair, staring at the table. “Next? What’s next? More waiting? More hoping? What if he never comes back to us?”

“Don’t think like that,” Lewis urged, his voice firm. “We’re working on a plan, and we’ll do everything we can to bring him back. Just hold on to that hope a little longer.”

Before she could respond, George entered the room, his expression serious. “We need to talk. Toto has some new intel about Zak’s operations. It might give us an advantage.”

She straightened, her heart racing at the mention of Zak. “What is it?”

“He’s planning a shipment of high-tech weapons,” George explained, his eyes scanning the room as if checking for eavesdroppers. “We think it’s happening soon, and it might be our best opportunity to gather intel. But we’ll have to split up. It’s dangerous.”

Her heart sank at the thought of more danger, but she also felt a surge of adrenaline. “We can’t let Zak continue this. We need to take him down.”

“Exactly,” Lewis chimed in. “But we need to approach this carefully. The last thing we want is to put ourselves at risk—especially with Oscar still recovering.”

As they discussed their strategy, she couldn’t shake the feeling that if they could dismantle Zak’s operation, it might create a distraction that would give her the chance to work on Oscar’s recovery in the chaos.

“Can we use the mission as a diversion?” she suggested, her voice rising with excitement. “If we can draw attention away from him, maybe I can slip in and try to get to him while everyone’s busy.”

Lewis and George exchanged uncertain looks. “It’s risky,” George warned. “What Zak kills you on sight?”

“I have to try,” she insisted, her heart racing with determination. “I can’t just sit here. I need to do something.”

“Okay, but we’ll need a solid plan,” Lewis replied, placing a hand on hers. “We’ll help you, but promise us you’ll be careful.”

She nodded, a newfound resolve swelling within her. “I promise.”

As night fell, they gathered to finalise their plans in the safe house’s dimly lit living room. Maps and blueprints were spread out on the table, the atmosphere charged with urgency.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Toto said, his voice commanding. “We’ll split into two teams. One will create a distraction near Zak’s main facility while the other infiltrates to gather intel. If things go south, we need to be able to regroup quickly.”

She listened intently, her mind racing with the possibilities. But the thought of Oscar still weighed heavily on her.

“Where will Oscar be during this?” she finally asked, her voice steady despite the anxiety gnawing at her.

Toto glanced at her, his expression conflicted. “We’ll keep him under guard in the safe house. It’s the safest place for him right now.”

“Safe?” she echoed incredulously. “You’re planning to put him in a place where he can wake up and not know what’s happening? I can’t let that happen. I can’t risk him being left alone with guards who don’t understand his situation.”

“We need to prioritise the mission,” Toto countered, his voice firm. “If we’re successful, we can deal with Oscar afterward.”

“Afterward?” she repeated, her voice rising in disbelief. “No, I won’t let you do that. I won’t leave him behind.”

Toto sighed, rubbing his temples as if fighting a headache. “You’re being irrational. This is about strategy, not emotions. We need to be practical.”

“I’m being practical! If I’m there when he wakes up, he’ll have a better chance of recognising me. I can help him. I can talk him through this.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but Lewis stepped in, holding up a hand. “Toto, what if you stay? He knows you and we’re more than capable of holding our own.”

Toto looked at the three of them and settled his gaze on her knowing her mind wouldn’t change. Looking down at the map one more time, he took a deep breath. “Fine.”

That night, as the team prepped for their roles, she felt a mix of nerves and anticipation. Lewis and George would be part of the distraction team, while she would go in and deal with Zak herself

The boat rocked gently on the dark water, the soft lapping of the waves a deceptive contrast to the electric tension in the air. She stood at the helm, the moon casting silver reflections across the surface, illuminating the night just enough to see her own breath. This was no ordinary mission; this was a high-stakes operation that could bring down one of the most dangerous figures in their world—Zak.

As she crept through the dimly lit cabin, her senses were heightened, attuned to every sound—the hum of machinery, the distant chatter of crew members, the echo of her own heartbeat. She felt the weight of her team’s hopes resting on her shoulders. After everything they had been through, she was determined to see this through.

Turning a corner, she was startled to find Lando standing there, leaning casually against the wall, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He raised a finger to his lips in a silencing gesture, an unexpected and unsettling calm radiating from him.

“Lando,” she whispered, confusion washing over her. “What are you doing here?”

He merely smirked, his expression enigmatic. Then, without a word, he stepped aside, allowing her to pass. She hesitated, caught between instinct and curiosity. She had no idea why he let her pass so simply. But time was short, and she couldn’t afford to dwell on the oddity of his actions.

Pushing the encounter from her mind, she focused on the task ahead. The path narrowed as she moved deeper into the boat, dim lights flickering overhead. The air felt charged with anticipation, her pulse quickening with each step she took.

Finally, she found the room she had been searching for—a cramped space at the rear of the vessel, where Zak was likely plotting his next move. She took a deep breath, steeling herself before pushing the door open.

The sight that met her eyes sent a chill down her spine. Zak stood at a table littered with blueprints, maps, and weapon schematics. His back was turned, but she could sense his self-satisfied energy, as if he knew he was always a step ahead.

“Zak,” she called out, her voice echoing off the walls, strong yet laced with anger.

He turned slowly, a calculating smile creeping across his face. “Ah, the brave little spy has come to face me. I was wondering when you’d find your way here.”

“What have you done?” she demanded, her voice rising with indignation. “Your operation is over. I’m not letting you escape this time.”

“Escape?” He chuckled softly, a sound that grated on her nerves. “You don’t understand, do you? This is just the beginning. I’ve built something bigger than you can imagine. You’re just a pawn in a game far beyond your comprehension.”

“You’re delusional,” she spat back, fists clenched at her sides. “You’re hurting people. This needs to end.”

Zak stepped closer, his expression shifting from amusement to a cold menace. “And what makes you think you have the power to stop me? I control everything now.”

She held her ground, feeling a rush of adrenaline. “I’m not afraid of you, Zak. I came here to finish this.”

Suddenly, there was a deafening bang that shattered the tension in the room, shattering the glass. Zak staggered back, eyes wide with shock, his hands instinctively reaching for his chest.

“Wha—” he gasped, confusion etched on his face. Then he crumpled forward, crashing onto the table, knocking over the maps that had guided him for so long.

“What the hell?” she breathed, her heart racing as disbelief washed over her.

But before she could react, she glanced out the now shattered window and felt her stomach drop. There, standing in the shadows, was Lando—his rifle aimed precisely at Zak’s fallen form. The realisation hit her like a punch to the gut.

“Lando!” she shouted.

He straightened from his position, rifle still smoking. With an almost theatrical flair, he saluted her, a grin spreading across his face. The light flickered, casting eerie shadows on his features. Then, without warning, he toppled backward off the edge of the boat, disappearing into the inky black water below.

“No!” she screamed, rushing to the edge, dread pooling in her stomach. The chaotic swirl of emotions made her head spin. “What just happened?”

As her mind struggled to process the events, she looked back at Zak's body, the horror of his lifeless form sinking in. Why had Lando done that? Was this part of some twisted plan?

Her comms crackled to life, Lewis’s urgent voice breaking through her shock. “What’s happening? Report!”

“Lando shot Zak!” she shouted into the device, her voice trembling with disbelief. “He’s dead! But Lando—he’s gone. He just fell into the water.”

“Get out of there! We’re coming to you!” Lewis ordered, urgency evident in his tone.

The room felt like it was closing in on her, the weight of the moment settling heavily on her chest. She turned her gaze back to the water, her heart racing. Was Lando really gone? What was happening? The implications of Zak’s death and Lando’s actions churned in her mind, a whirlwind of confusion and dread.

“Copy that,” she said, trying to sound steady. “I’m moving out.”

As she retreated from the room, adrenaline surged through her veins. She had to escape, to regroup with her team, and to figure out what had just transpired. She dashed down the narrow corridor, her footsteps echoing in the silence.

Panic surged as she made her way toward the exit, the weight of what had just occurred pushing down on her. She had lost Zak, but what had Lando’s actions meant for her?

Just as she reached the exit, an alarm blared through the boat, red lights flashing ominously. Her heart raced. They knew she was there. The mission had been compromised.

Rushing onto the deck, she scanned the horizon, looking for her team. In the distance, she could see the faint outlines of their boat approaching, but she needed to buy herself time.

Suddenly, gunfire erupted from behind her, bullets whizzing past as she ducked for cover. Her instincts kicked in, and she moved swiftly along the edge of the boat, using the crates as shields. The chaos surrounding her felt surreal, the adrenaline surging with each heartbeat.

“Stay low!” she shouted into her comms as she crouched behind a crate. “I’m pinned down!”

“On our way!” Lewis replied, his voice steady despite the situation.

She could see shadows moving on the deck, agents sent to intercept her. They were closing in fast, and she knew she had to make a choice.

Drawing a deep breath, she steadied herself and sprinted toward the railing. With a leap, she dove into the water, plunging beneath the surface, hoping to evade her pursuers. The cold enveloped her, and she kicked hard, propelling herself away from the boat, desperate to reach the safety of her team.

Surfacing, she gasped for air, her heart pounding. The distant lights of their boat flickered like stars in the darkness, a beacon of hope. As she swam toward it, her mind raced with questions.

What had Lando’s actions meant? Why had he let her go? Was he playing a double game, or was there something more complex at work?

When she finally reached the side of the boat, hands gripping the edge, she hoisted herself up, gasping for breath as she clambered aboard. Lewis and George were waiting for her, concern etched on their faces.

“What happened?” Lewis demanded, urgency in his tone.

“Zak’s dead. Lando shot him,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “But I don’t know why he did it. He just… vanished into the water.”

George exchanged a glance with Lewis, confusion evident. “And you’re sure he’s gone?”

“I saw him fall,” she insisted, a knot tightening in her stomach. “But why? What was his plan?”

“First things first, we need to regroup,” Lewis said, glancing back toward the now-quiet boat. “We need to figure out what just happened and how we’re going to deal with the fallout.”

“What if he’s not dead?” she muttered, her mind racing with possibilities. “What if this was all part of his game?”

Lewis shook his head. “We can’t think like that. We need to focus on what we do know: Zak is out of the picture, and that’s one less threat we have to worry about.”

“Let’s get back to the safe house,” she said, determination settling in her chest. “We need to figure out our next move.”

As the boat sped away from the scene of chaos, its engine roared as they made their way back to the safe house. The atmosphere was tense, filled with the unspoken questions swirling among the team. She leaned against the side of the boat, heart still racing as she tried to piece together the fragments of what had just happened. One thing was sure.

Shit just got complicated.

“Do you think Lando was playing us?” George asked, his brow furrowed. “Or was this all a setup?”

Lewis shook his head, clearly frustrated. “We need to focus on Zak’s death for now. If Lando shot him, it changes everything. We need to report to Toto. He’ll know how to handle this.”

As they arrived at the safe house, a modest cabin tucked away in the woods, the familiar scent of pine mingled with the anxiety that hung thick in the air. She stepped inside, scanning the room, her heart still heavy with uncertainty.

Toto was already there, pacing back and forth, the shadows dancing across his worried face. “What the hell happened out there?” he demanded as soon as they entered, his eyes narrowing at her.

“Zak is dead,” she said, voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “But Lando—he shot him and then just… disappeared. I have no idea why he let me go.”

“Disappeared?” Toto echoed, disbelief flashing in his eyes. “Lando is a loose cannon. He shouldn’t have been there in the first place! He’s always been unpredictable, but now this?”

Lewis stepped forward, urgency evident in his tone. “He shot Zak, but we have no idea where he is or what he’s planning. We need to find him before he decides to make another move.”

“Lando has always seemed to have his own agenda,” Toto said, running a hand through his hair, frustration mounting. “I’ll contact our sources. We need to know if he’s gone rogue or if he’s working with us.”

She felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. What if Lando was working with them? What if he had a plan of his own?

Before anyone could respond, Lewis opened the door to the kitchen, all heads turned to the sound they heard, guns instinctively drawn.

But what they saw stopped them cold.

Lando sat casually at the table in his tactical gear, hair wet, legs swinging like a child’s, a half-eaten biscuit in his hand. He looked utterly relaxed, a stark contrast to the chaos of the past few hours.

“I really thought you were better at this,” he said with a playful smirk, taking another bite of his biscuit.

“Lando!” she exclaimed, shock mixing with anger. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

In an instant, all of them had their weapons trained on him, fingers hovering over triggers. Toto’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “You shouldn’t be here. We thought you were—”

“Dead?” Lando interjected, chuckling softly as he raised his hands in mock surrender. “No need for any of that.” He leaned back slightly, his expression shifting to something more serious. “I come with the antidote.”

“Antidote?” Lewis echoed, still aiming his gun at Lando. “What are you talking about?”

“For Zak’s plan,” Lando replied, the lightheartedness fading from his voice. “I knew he had something cooking up—something dangerous that would have put all of you at risk if you hadn’t stopped him. I just didn’t think you’d be this reckless in the process.”

“Reckless?” she snapped, frustration boiling over. “You shot him! What’s your angle?”

Lando shrugged, still relaxed. “I didn’t want him to have the chance to activate whatever he had in place. That’s where the antidote comes in. I’ve got the means to reverse his effects—he had plans for you, you know. Something that could’ve turned you into a puppet for him.”

The room fell silent, confusion mingling with curiosity. She could see doubt flickering in Toto’s eyes, and it was clear that Lando’s presence had thrown them all off balance.

“What do you mean?” Toto finally asked, lowering his gun slightly, though still on guard.

“Zak had an entire operation designed to brainwash agents,” Lando explained, his tone now grave. “You wouldn’t have even known you were under his control. I had to take him out before he could flip the switch.”

“Why should we trust you?” she challenged, her heart racing. “You’ve been a wildcard this entire time.”

Lando sighed, clearly exasperated. “Because I’ve saved your asses. Zak was a threat, but he wasn’t the only one. I couldn’t let you fall into his trap. If you think I’m playing both sides, then fine. But I’m here to help, whether you believe it or not.”

“What’s the antidote?” Lewis asked, scepticism still evident in his voice but curiosity piqued.

Lando leaned forward, his eyes locking onto hers. “I’ve got the formula, and I need your help to distribute it to the right people. We need to move quickly. The longer we wait, the more dangerous this gets.”

She exchanged glances with her teammates, weighing their options. Could they trust him?

Finally, Toto nodded, his decision made. “Alright, let’s hear what you have to say. But know this, Lando: one wrong move, and we won’t hesitate to take you down.”

With that, Lando leaned back, a hint of a grin returning to his face. “Now that’s more like it. Let’s get to work.”

As the tension in the room began to ease, she felt a flicker of hope. They might have lost Zak, but if Lando was telling the truth, they had a chance to stop whatever he had planned next. The stakes were high, and the clock was ticking.

“Let’s get the details sorted,” she said, determination flooding her voice. “We need to be ready for anything.”

As they gathered around the table, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of a much larger game—a game that would test their loyalties and strength in ways they had never imagined.

The antidote was handed off to the medics without hesitation, each of them glancing nervously at Toto before they hurried to Oscar’s room. The atmosphere was taut as a wire as the team waited, tension thick in the air. She stood by the door, her eyes following the medics as they prepared the injection.

“You have 100% faith this will work?” she asked Lando, voice low but seething with barely contained anger.

Lando looked back at her, his face unusually serious. “Yes,” he said firmly. “It will help him. I’ve seen it work before. Everyone has their own reaction, but it works.”

Before she could respond, one of the medics announced, “Administering the antidote.” They pressed the syringe into Oscar’s arm, and the room fell into a charged silence. Every eye was on him, watching for any sign of change. For a moment, nothing happened.

And then, in an instant, Oscar convulsed, his body seizing with such violence it took two of the medics to hold him down. His eyes were squeezed shut, his face contorted in pain as they tried to steady him. She felt her heart drop, terror racing through her as he gasped, choking on his own breath.

“What’s happening?” she demanded, her voice rising in panic. “Is this supposed to happen?”

“We don’t know yet,” one of the medics muttered, beads of sweat forming on his brow as he worked. But before anyone could say more, Oscar’s body stilled, and he sank back against the bed, his chest barely moving. The heart monitor next to him let out a slow, irregular beep.

One of the medics shook his head, looking at her with pity. “He’s slipped into a coma.”

The words were a punch to the gut. She turned to Lando, fury blazing in her eyes. “A coma?” she spat, stepping forward, fists clenched. “This was your cure? This was your help?”

Lando started to speak, but she didn’t let him finish. Rage overtaking her, she swung her fist at him, landing a blow against his jaw. He stumbled back, and she followed, pushing him against the wall as she fought the urge to keep swinging.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” she shouted, voice cracking as her hand trembled. “You said you had the answer. You swore this was the cure!”

Lando looked up at her, hand to his bruised jaw, eyes narrowed with frustration. “It is the antidote! I’m sure of it. He’s not in danger; his body just needs time to adjust—”

“Time to adjust?” she cut in, practically trembling with fury. “You said it would help him, and now he’s comatose!”

Lando’s jaw tightened as he straightened up, his expression a mix of frustration and desperation. “I didn’t want this any more than you did!” he snapped, his voice rising to match hers. “Do you think I’d go through all this just to hurt him? You’re not the only one who cares about him, you know. He’s my friend too! I’ve sabotaged my entire career, my life, over him too.”

She felt her anger falter, replaced by a raw, painful mix of confusion and disbelief. “You… what?”

Lando looked away, exhaling harshly as he struggled to control his emotions. “I did this because he matters to me,” he said, voice thick with a sincerity she hadn’t seen in him before. “I’ve been one step ahead of Zak because I knew the only way to keep him safe was to take control. I wouldn’t risk him for anything.”

She searched his face, looking for any hint of deception, but all she saw was a bitter sort of pain. Her anger cooled slightly, replaced by a tense, uneasy silence.

“Then prove it,” she finally said, voice low. “If you really care, you’ll stay by his side until he wakes up, and you’ll take responsibility for what happens if he doesn’t.”

Lando nodded, his expression resolute. “I’ll stay. And he will wake up. I promise you that.”

She held his gaze for a moment longer, then turned away, feeling her pulse gradually steady as the anger drained from her. Whether or not she believed him, there was nothing she could do now except wait—and hope that Lando’s gamble was worth the risk.

The room fell silent as the medics continued their work, each of them carefully monitoring Oscar’s every breath.

She left the medical room, her body feeling heavy and her mind whirling from the past hour. Pausing just outside, she glanced back through the small window in the door. Lando had positioned himself on the floor beside Oscar’s bed, his back against the wall, legs pulled up, and his face buried in his hands. The cocky edge he usually carried was gone, replaced by something sombre and unguarded.

With a heavy sigh, she continued down the hall to the main briefing room, where Toto, George, and Lewis were waiting, eyes filled with concern. She took a moment to steady herself before joining them.

Toto was the first to speak. “How’s Oscar?”

“In a coma,” she said, feeling the weight of each word. “The medics are watching him, but… we don’t know when he’ll wake up. Or even if he’ll fully come back.”

Toto’s jaw tightened as he took in the news. “And Lando? You still trust his story?”

She folded her arms, unsure of her own answer. “He’s… by Oscar’s side. Says he cares about him, and that everything he did was to protect him. I don’t know if I believe him, but…��� Her voice faltered. “I think he’s telling the truth.”

Lewis scratched his chin, considering this. “Well, we’ve seen Lando’s loyalty to Oscar firsthand. He’s one hell of a sniper and kept Zak off our backs tonight.”

She shot him a look, her expression incredulous. “You’re not saying he should become one of us, are you?”

Lewis shrugged. “He’s burned all his other bridges. And he’s already risked his own career to keep Oscar alive. The question is whether we can use his skills and if he’d even be willing.”

George nodded, though he seemed more hesitant. “He’s ruined all his other chances trying to save Oscar. We don’t have many people with that kind of dedication. He might be reckless, but he’s got guts.”

Toto looked thoughtful, weighing their arguments. His gaze lingered on her, as though searching her face for a decision she hadn’t yet made. “If we bring him in, we’d be responsible for him,” he said finally. “You’ve seen more of him than the rest of us. What’s your call?”

She hesitated, the weight of the choice settling over her. Lando’s decision to shoot Zak had saved their lives tonight. He’d turned his back on everything for Oscar’s sake, yet the damage he’d caused left her conflicted.

“We don’t know what he’s planning,” she said carefully. “If he’s willing to share what he knows, and if he proves he’s in this for the right reasons…” She trailed off, glancing back in the direction of Oscar’s room. “Maybe we give him a shot. But only if he earns it.”

Toto nodded, folding his hands as if he’d expected her answer. “Then we’ll keep him close for now. If he wants to help, he’ll follow our rules and go through our training. But the minute he shows any hint of crossing us…”

“We take him out,” George finished with a grim nod.

She glanced one last time toward the hallway, an odd sense of foreboding mixed with the lingering weight of relief. Lando had put them all at risk, but if he truly wanted redemption—and if he could deliver on his promise to save Oscar—maybe they could turn his loyalty to their side.

Lewis’ voice broke her train of thought. “So, what’s next, then? We wait on Oscar’s recovery, and keep an eye on our new ‘ally’?”

“Keep him close,” Toto agreed. “Get him familiar with the team’s layout, but don’t let him see the real intel until we’re sure. And if he even thinks about double-crossing us, we don’t hesitate.”

As they spoke, she caught George’s eye. He gave a slight nod, something between caution and reassurance, and she realised the others had reached the same uneasy compromise she had.

Just then, a door down the hall creaked open. Lando emerged, looking worn and strangely vulnerable, as if he had left a part of his hardened exterior back in the room with Oscar. He glanced around and spotted them in the briefing room, his expression unreadable. For a moment, they all stood in silence, tension thickening the air once again.

She stepped forward, arms crossed, and met his gaze. “Lando. Toto has decided to give you a chance. But let me be clear: this is a test. You’re only here because you saved our lives tonight. But if you put us in jeopardy again, you won’t get another chance.”

Lando nodded, his eyes momentarily flickering with relief. “I understand,” he said simply, hands at his sides, an unusual openness in his demeanour.

Toto gestured toward a chair by the door, his voice sharp. “Sit down, Lando. I want to hear exactly what you know—no edits, no omissions. Start with Zak’s plans, and leave nothing out.”

Lando took the chair, leaned forward, and clasped his hands together, his gaze unwavering. “With Zak gone, a scramble will start. His lieutenants are already positioning themselves to take over. There’s a handful who have been waiting for an opportunity like this. If they consolidate control, they could be more dangerous than Zak ever was.”

Her interest piqued as she listened, nodding to herself as pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. “So we cut them off before they can regroup?”

“Exactly,” Lando replied, meeting her gaze. “One of his top lieutenants is already planning to take over. A man named Andrea Stella—he’s ruthless and has been at Zak’s side for years. If he consolidates Zak’s power base, we’ll be dealing with a much bigger threat.”

Toto considered this, a gleam of determination in his eye. “Then Andrea is our target. We dismantle what’s left of Zak’s network from the inside, starting with the lieutenants.”

Lewis cracked his knuckles, a glint of excitement sparking in his eyes. “Finally, something straightforward. Cut off the heads, and the body will fall.”

George chimed in, more cautious. “But Andrea will have protection, likely Zak’s best operatives. We need a plan that uses every bit of Lando’s intel.”

Toto nodded in agreement, looking at Lando with an expectant gaze. “This is your chance to prove yourself, Lando. You know Zak’s people better than any of us. Map out Andrea’s assets, his known allies, and his weaknesses.”

Lando nodded, already reaching for a piece of paper. “Andrea has two primary safehouses, one in Berlin and one in Prague. The Berlin safehouse is easier to access—it’s where he keeps his logistics team. The one in Prague… that’s where he’ll go if he’s expecting trouble. It’s more fortified.”

Toto looked back to the team, his expression resolute. “You have your targets. We’ll split into two groups—one to hit Berlin and disrupt Andrea’s logistics, the other to prepare for Prague in case he tries to make a run for it.”

She nodded, adrenaline beginning to stir. The mission had just taken on a new level of intensity, with Zak’s death opening up opportunities for both freedom and danger. Her mind flashed briefly to Oscar’s room, where he lay unmoving.

But if they dismantled Andrea’s power structure, Oscar’s chances of waking up to a world without Zak’s shadow grew that much stronger.

“Alright,” she said, sharing a determined glance with her teammates. “We’re doing this. Let’s finish what Zak started and make sure no one takes his place.”

PRAGUE - TWO NIGHTS LATER 

The night air was sharp on the rooftop in Prague, the glow of city lights casting a soft haze over the streets below. She sat next to Lando, both watching the entrance of Andrea’s safehouse across the way. Silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the distant sounds of traffic and a lone dog barking. They’d been up here for hours, waiting for signs of movement, waiting for Andrea to show.

As the minutes dragged on, she glanced over at Lando. His face was unusually still, a hardness settled in his eyes that seemed more complex than the usual determination of a mission. She thought back to the last few days, how he’d lingered by Oscar’s side, how he’d gone against everything to bring the antidote, even at the risk of his own life. It gnawed at her, how little she really knew about him, and before she could stop herself, the words slipped out.

“Why’d you do it? Betray Zak, go against your own orders…risk everything?”

Lando didn’t answer right away. He kept his gaze on the street below, then let out a quiet sigh, as if the question had settled into him, forcing out an old wound he’d long since hidden. Finally, he spoke.

“Oscar and I… we came into this at the same time. We were both eleven when we met Zak. They don’t usually bring kids into this life that young, but we weren’t typical recruits. Came from broken homes, no family, no stability. We were Zak’s new toys. The latest in his collection. We listened, we obeyed…we did it all.”

She felt a pang of something—sympathy, anger, a sense of understanding she hadn’t expected. Zak had taken them so young, so vulnerable, moulding them into tools, spies with no choice but to follow his orders.

Unlike her, she had a choice and she took it at 18.

She wanted to say something but stayed silent, knowing he had more to tell.

“Oscar looked after me,” Lando continued, his voice quieter now. “I was older, but he always… protected me, in a way. On the days I screwed up and wasn’t allowed dinner, he’d sneak half his plate my way. Stubborn kid,” he added with a half-smile. “No matter how much I told him to take care of himself first, he just… wouldn’t. He thought of me as family, and…well, that changed everything.”

She was taken aback, her mind spinning as she pieced together the full weight of what Oscar had meant to Lando. Oscar had never spoken of this side of his past—of how he’d been moulded, of the sacrifices he’d made, even as a child. And here was Lando, older, colder, but quietly haunted by a loyalty that ran so deep it had shaped his entire life.

“What Zak did to us,” Lando continued, his voice rougher now, “I don’t think you can ever walk away from that. Not completely. But Oscar… he still found a way to be good. To care. He wanted a way out for both of us, even before we knew there was one.”

She felt something sharp twist inside her chest. Suddenly, Lando’s actions—the betrayal, the risks he’d taken to bring Oscar back—made sense in a way she couldn’t have imagined. To Lando, saving Oscar was more than just about loyalty; it was about holding onto the one piece of humanity he still had left.

She swallowed, her voice barely a whisper. “I never realised it meant that much to you.”

Lando shrugged, the hardened expression slipping back into place, but she caught the brief flicker of vulnerability. “Oscar was the only real family I had. He’s the only person I’d risk this much for. And now… with Zak gone, maybe it means he’ll finally get the freedom he’s wanted all his life.”

They fell into silence again, but it was heavier, fuller now. She felt her own loyalty to Oscar deepen, if that were possible, understanding how he’d shaped not only her but also those around him.

Just then, a light flickered across the way, snapping them back to the mission. Andrea was moving through the entrance, surrounded by bodyguards. Their momentary reprieve was over.

Lando straightened, pulling out his weapon, a renewed determination in his eyes. “We’ll do this, and make sure Zak’s legacy dies with Andrea.”

She took a steadying breath, nodding as her focus sharpened. “Alright. We’re doing this.”

She hesitated, looking at Lando, the weight of their conversation pressing against her chest. After a pause, she reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "You deserve to be happy too, you know. After everything Zak put you through… you deserve a chance to live your own life."

Lando gave a small, almost sad smile, the kind that made her heart ache. “I’ll be happy once you and Oscar get your lives back. That’s the least he deserves. I owe him that much… maybe more.”

Before she could respond, a shadow moved near the safehouse door, and they both tensed, their hands instinctively going to their weapons.

“Alright,” he murmured, glancing down through the scope on his rifle. “That’s Andrea’s main man, he’s going in. Andrea is coming around. You go down there, hold his attention. Give me a clear shot, and I’ll handle the rest.”

She nodded, steadying herself, and slipped off the rooftop, making her way down to street level. Every step forward tightened the knot in her stomach, but the memory of Oscar—and now Lando’s story—pushed her forward. Andrea was the last piece of Zak’s empire that could threaten them, and she was ready to end it.

When she stepped into the dimly lit alley beside the safehouse, Andrea was waiting, his face flickering with recognition.

“You,” he sneered, his voice low and threatening. “I should have known they’d send you.”

Feigning a smirk, she held his gaze, keeping her tone casual. “What can I say? Some of us are harder to kill than others.”

Andrea chuckled, stepping closer, his eyes narrowing as he sized her up. She could almost feel Lando’s crosshairs tracing Andrea’s movements from above. She just had to keep Andrea talking, keep his attention on her.

“I know you’re alone,” he said, voice full of confidence. “You think you’re clever, but you’re just a desperate little soldier without a leader now. And Zak’s network? It’s not going anywhere. There will always be someone else to fill his shoes.”

“Really?” she shot back, a calmness washing over her. “Because from where I stand, the empire you’re trying to build looks a lot like a house of cards. One wrong move, and it’ll come crashing down. Starting with you.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but in that instant, she saw his expression change, his eyes widening slightly. She felt the tension in the air, braced herself—and then the shot rang out.

Andrea dropped, a clean, decisive shot to the head. She looked up, catching a brief flash of movement as Lando lowered his rifle, nodding toward her from the rooftop.

Taking a deep breath, she spoke into her earpiece. “Target down. Andrea is gone. Let’s get out of here.”

Lando joined her a few moments later, his face calm but resolute. She caught his eye, a shared look of relief passing between them.

“It’s over,” he said quietly. For the first time, she saw a glimmer of something lighter, something like hope, in his expression.

She let the words sink in, a strange mix of relief and disbelief washing over her. “It really is, isn’t it?” she murmured, more to herself than to Lando. The empire Zak built, the one that had stolen her life, Oscar’s life, even Lando’s—finally, it was over.

They slipped through the shadows of the narrow Prague alleyways, leaving Andrea’s safehouse and the remnants of Zak’s power crumbling behind them before someone saw them. As they neared the extraction point, the silence between them grew heavier with unspoken thoughts, both of them reflecting on what lay ahead.

Once they reached the dimly lit side street where their car waited, Lando slowed his pace, his gaze distant.

“Do you think…” he began, then stopped, shaking his head slightly. “Do you think Oscar will be able to let this all go? After everything?”

She took a deep breath, thinking about the man she’d loved and the ways Zak had shaped him, twisting his loyalty and kindness into a weapon. But Lando was right; there was still a part of Oscar that had always hoped, always wanted something more. She smiled faintly.

“If anyone can, it’s him. He’s been through hell and still kept his heart intact.” She looked up at Lando. “But that goes for you, too.”

Lando chuckled softly, shaking his head as he opened the car door for her. “I think I lost my heart a long time ago,” he said with a smirk, but she caught the flicker of doubt in his eyes, a vulnerability that had been stripped bare over years of loyalty and sacrifice.

She turned to him, her gaze unwavering. “Maybe. But you just put yourself on the line to save someone you care about. That’s not something a heartless person does.”

Lando considered her words, giving a small, reluctant nod as he settled into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The car rumbled to life, and they pulled out onto the narrow, winding roads of Prague, slipping through the quiet city as it slept.

The weight of Andrea’s death, of the mission’s success, lingered in the air between them as they drove, each lost in their own thoughts. She watched the cityscape slip by, mind drifting to the future—one that felt less like a dream and more like something she could almost touch.

Finally, Lando broke the silence, his voice quieter. “You and Oscar gonna leave after this?”

“Yeah,” she replied, feeling a swell of emotion she barely kept in check. “I’ll go back to him. Help him heal, be there while he figures out… what comes next.”

Lando’s gaze softened, a strange sense of peace settling over his features. “Then I guess… I’ll see this through too. I don’t know what’s waiting for me, but I know what I’ve been running from. Time to stop running.”

She reached over, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. “Then maybe you should come back with us. At least for now.”

Lando looked at her, a flicker of surprise giving way to an almost boyish smile, a glimmer of the young man he’d once been. “Maybe I will.”

They fell into silence once more, but this time it was comfortable, a quiet peace settling between them as they left Prague behind, ready to face whatever came next together.

The drive back was long and filled with an anxious hope as they wound through the countryside toward the safe house. The mission’s success hadn’t erased her worries—Oscar was still fighting for his life, and no amount of victories over their enemies could fix the fragility of his recovery. When they finally arrived, a medic was waiting at the door, his face carefully neutral but carrying the slight, telltale signs of positive news.

“He’s stable,” the medic reported as they stepped inside, “and his vitals are improving. But he’s still unresponsive.” He glanced between her and Lando, understanding their urgency. “You can go in. It might help him to hear familiar voices.”

She nodded, glancing at Lando, who offered a small, encouraging nod in return, as if grounding her. Together, they made their way to the infirmary room where Oscar lay, silent and still, his face more peaceful than it had been in a long time. She took the seat by his bed, pulling it close, her hand instinctively reaching for his. Lando stood at the foot of the bed, quiet and watchful.

The room was filled with the soft beeping of monitors, a rhythmic pulse that was both a comfort and a reminder of the stakes they still faced. She brushed a strand of hair from Oscar’s forehead, her fingers lingering, gentle and protective.

“Hey,��� she whispered, her voice trembling just slightly. “We did it, Oscar. Andrea is gone, and Zak’s empire… it’s finished. You’re safe now. We’re safe.”

Beside her, Lando watched, his expression unreadable but softened. After a pause, he moved to take the chair next to hers, leaning forward, elbows on his knees as he looked at Oscar, his voice low but steady.

“You always had my back, kid,” he murmured, his voice rougher than usual. “Even when I didn’t deserve it. Now I’ve got yours. I’ll be here… just like you always were for me.”

Silence fell over the room, each of them lost in memories, in hope, in unspoken promises. She leaned closer to Oscar, her fingers entwining with his, as if willing him to feel the warmth of her touch, the weight of her presence.

The medic came back in, checking Oscar’s monitors, his expression calm but unhurried, like he’d done this a thousand times. “If he’s hearing anything, it’s the voices of those closest to him that will bring him back,” he offered softly. “If anyone can do that, it’s the two of you.”

She glanced over at Lando, who nodded in agreement, the intensity in his gaze softened with something like gratitude. Together, they sat vigil by Oscar’s side, filling the room with quiet stories and shared memories, fighting their own exhaustion, hoping that somewhere in the dark, he was making his way back to them.

The hours blurred together in the quiet of the room. Shadows stretched along the walls as night settled in, but neither she nor Lando had moved. The medic had come and gone, checking Oscar’s vitals with reassuring nods, but the wait was wearing on them. She squeezed Oscar’s hand, brushing her thumb gently over his knuckles, as if the warmth of her touch alone could pull him back.

As the clock ticked on, she began to speak again, letting her voice fill the stillness.

“Do you remember the cabin on the coast?” she murmured, her voice soft and soothing. “Those mornings we had, just us… No missions, no agencies breathing down our necks. You’d make that terrible instant coffee, and we’d sit out there like nothing else mattered.”

She smiled, eyes misty as she thought back to the peace they’d found there, however brief. She could feel Lando listening beside her, his presence a quiet reassurance.

“You kept saying you wanted a place like that for real,” she continued, voice breaking slightly. “Somewhere we could disappear to, where no one would ever find us. Well, we made it through, Oscar. You got us there.”

For a moment, silence fell again, and the only sound was the steady beeping of the monitor, each pulse a tether to the man she loved. She closed her eyes, breathing slowly, letting the weight of exhaustion press against her but refusing to surrender to it.

Lando, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, shifted in his seat, leaning forward, his eyes fixed on Oscar.

“Oscar,” he said, his tone low but full of determination. “Look, I know we’ve been through hell together, but I think you’re just showing off now. Making us sit here, wondering if you’re gonna wake up…” He paused, taking a shaky breath. “Come on, mate. Just… open your eyes.”

The words lingered in the air, heavy with unsaid things, a lifetime’s worth of loyalty and brotherhood distilled into those few sentences. And just as she was about to give in to the quiet again, something shifted—a faint squeeze, barely there, but unmistakable.

Her heart skipped as she looked down, fingers tightening around his hand. “Oscar?”

The first flicker of life in Oscar’s eyes felt like a miracle. She tightened her grip on his hand as he blinked slowly, his gaze beginning to focus, like he was pulling himself back from somewhere distant and dark. His fingers moved in hers, weak but warm, and her heart leapt.

“Oscar,” she whispered, leaning closer, barely daring to breathe. “It’s me.”

His eyes, still heavy with exhaustion, met hers, and a faint, familiar warmth flickered there. His lips parted, but the words came only as a faint rasp. “You… you’re here.”

At the sound of his voice, she let out a shaky breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding. Tears blurred her vision as she nodded, holding his hand to her cheek. “We’re here, Oscar. I’m here.” Her words caught in her throat, a tangled mix of love, relief, and all the things she’d thought she might never have the chance to say again.

Beside her, Lando had been standing at a respectful distance, a quiet, steady presence. But as Oscar’s gaze shifted, recognizing him, a small, amused glint appeared in his tired eyes.

“You’re… both here?” Oscar murmured, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, and she heard the hint of teasing in his voice. “That’s… quite the welcome party.”

Lando let out a quiet chuckle, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Wouldn’t have missed it, mate.” His tone was light, but his expression was taut, almost uncertain, as if he wasn’t sure whether to stay or slip out and let them have their moment.

Sensing this, Lando began to step back, nodding toward her. “I’ll give you two—”

“No,” she said softly, her gaze turning to him, the conviction in her voice quiet but steady. “Stay.”

Lando stopped, visibly taken aback, his expression betraying the slightest hint of surprise. For a moment, he looked at her as if he hadn’t quite heard right, his usual stoic exterior cracking just a little, his eyes shimmering with something raw and unguarded. He gave her a nod, a subtle motion of understanding, though his voice caught slightly. “Alright,” he murmured, sinking back into his chair beside them.

Oscar’s fingers tightened around hers as he watched the exchange, a tired but knowing look passing over his face. He took a shaky breath, shifting his gaze between them. “Seems like… I owe you both.”

Her grip on his hand tightened as she glanced from him to Lando, the weight of everything they’d endured heavy in the air between them. “Oscar… you don’t owe us anything,” she whispered, the intensity of her own words surprising her. “We’re just glad you’re here.”

Lando nodded, his gaze locked on Oscar. “Yeah, you’ve been doing enough for everyone for too long,” he said, voice soft but steady. “It’s your turn to just… be. Heal.”

Oscar looked at them both, an unspoken gratitude shimmering in his eyes, but there was also something else—a deep trust, a quiet acceptance that the three of them were bound in ways words couldn’t capture.

He exhaled, letting his head rest back against the pillow, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion, but for the first time, a faint, peaceful smile graced his face. And in that moment, with Lando at her side, she felt a quiet reassurance settle in her heart. Together, they would help him heal, each of them carrying a part of the burden, just as they always had.

Oscar looked between them, eyes flickering with a familiar sharpness, though the exhaustion clung to him. “Alright,” he rasped, his voice a little stronger, “so who’s gonna tell me what the hell I missed? Because knowing you two… I’m guessing it’s not nothing.”

She smiled, warmth and relief evident as she exchanged a glance with Lando. “Where do we even start?” she said, squeezing Oscar’s hand gently. “It’s been… eventful.”

Lando let out a quiet laugh, shrugging as he leaned back in his chair. “Eventful is one word for it.”

With a bit more strength, Oscar’s lips quirked into a smirk as he focused on Lando. “So, go on then. Give me the rundown, you muppet. What did you do?”

Lando winced, laughing softly. “I had it under control. Mostly.” He paused, looking slightly sheepish. “I may have… bent a few rules.”

“Bent?” Oscar raised a brow, incredulity softening into amusement. “Mate, you blew the rules to pieces, didn’t you?”

She laughed, nodding. “He’s right, you did. We had Zak’s whole operation on our backs, remember?”

Lando rolled his eyes, though there was a hint of pride there. “Well, it was necessary, wasn’t it? Zak needed taking down, and it was… efficient.”

Oscar shook his head, the faint smile lingering as he squeezed her hand. “Efficient. That’s what we’re calling it now?”

She nodded, filling in the rest. “Efficient and risky. Lando worked out a plan to intercept Zak, took us on an intel dive across three countries, and then pulled off a takedown that… well, let’s just say it wasn’t part of any mission plan.”

“Got Zak out of the picture,” Lando added, shrugging like it was nothing. “And got you the antidote.”

“About that…” Oscar tilted his head, eyeing Lando with a spark of mock accusation. “You just couldn’t resist a grand entrance with that antidote, could you?”

Lando feigned innocence, lifting his hands. “Had to make sure you’d remember it, didn’t I? Besides, I didn’t hear you complaining.”

“Only because I was unconscious,” Oscar shot back, laughing weakly, though he winced as the laugh brought on a wave of fatigue.

“Alright, you two.” She leaned forward, brushing Oscar’s hair back gently, her eyes filled with a warmth that anchored him. “Lando might be a complete muppet, but he did it for you, Oscar. And we all made it out, somehow.”

Oscar’s gaze softened, moving from her to Lando, his expression one of profound gratitude, quiet but unmistakable. “I can’t… thank you enough. Both of you. For everything.”

“No need for that, mate,” Lando said, his voice unusually gentle, a slight tremor in it. “We don’t leave our own behind.”

SEVEN YEARS LATER

The soft light of the late afternoon settled over their hillside home, casting a warm glow across the kitchen where she stood, gazing out at the endless blue sea. A gentle breeze slipped through the open window, bringing with it the faint scent of wild thyme and olive trees. She placed a hand over her stomach, feeling the subtle curve there—a quiet reminder of all that had changed in these last few years.

She smiled to herself, so lost in the peace of the moment that she didn’t hear Oscar approach until his arms circled around her waist, his hand coming to rest over hers. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her shoulder, and she felt him smile against her skin.

“Hey, mama,” he murmured, voice soft and full of warmth as his hand gently rubbed over her growing belly. “You two enjoying the view?”

She leaned back into him, feeling a quiet contentment settle over her as she placed her hand over his. “Always. Though, I think I might be enjoying it a little more than this one.” She gave her belly a gentle pat, smiling. “Feels like I’m carrying a future kickboxer in there.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating warmly against her. “Takes after you, then,” he teased, brushing a kiss to her temple. “Strong, resilient… and definitely a little stubborn.”

She turned to face him, her eyes softening as she looked up at him. “And maybe a little of you too, hmm?” She reached up, tracing a hand along his jaw, her gaze reflecting the love and gratitude she felt for the life they’d built here, the peace they’d fought so hard for.

Before he could respond, they heard the front door swing open, followed by a familiar, slightly exasperated voice calling out from the hallway.

“Oi, mate! You wouldn’t believe what happened down at the market,” Lando announced as he walked in, holding up a few bags of fresh produce. He wore an incredulous expression, his eyebrows raised as he looked between them. “I can’t tell if the butcher wanted to sell me fish or… shag me. He followed me halfway up the street. I swear, I need to learn Greek. Or find a disguise,” he added with a grin, dropping the bags onto the kitchen counter.

She laughed, shaking her head as she took in his flustered expression. “Maybe he just appreciates your… charm?”

“Or he thought you’d look nice in a seafood display,” Oscar teased, his hand still resting gently on her stomach.

Lando let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. “You two are impossible. I get followed home, and this is the thanks I get?” But the corners of his mouth tugged upward, and his eyes softened as he took in the peaceful scene before him.

The three of them fell into easy laughter, the warmth of their friendship filling the room as the sun sank lower on the horizon, painting everything in golden hues. This was the life they’d fought for—a quiet peace in a little corner of the world, shared laughter, and the promise of a new future nestled safely between them.

As their laughter faded, Oscar tugged her a little closer, his hand still protectively resting over her stomach. She placed her hand over his, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. He looked at her as if they were still those two undercover agents stealing moments in the shadows, as if this life they'd built still felt too good to be true.

Lando raised an eyebrow at the two of them, smirking. “You two are disgustingly cute, you know that?”

“Oh, we’re just getting started,” Oscar replied, turning to give Lando a pointed look. “Wait until you’re on baby duty, Uncle Lando.”

Lando feigned horror, hand over his heart. “Alright, well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There’ll be no nappies in my future, thank you.”

She laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. “Oh, I don’t know. I think you’re going to be brilliant at it. All that practise dodging bullets and undercover work? Changing nappies will be a breeze.”

Lando scoffed but couldn’t hide his grin. “You two are going to turn me into a proper family man, aren’t you?”

“Think it’s a bit late for that, mate,” Oscar teased, squeezing her hand as he glanced over at Lando. “You’re already here, complaining about the market and fighting with the neighbour’s rooster.”

Lando let out a dramatic sigh, but the affection in his eyes was unmistakable. “Fine. Maybe I’m going soft in my old age.”

A comfortable silence settled between them, each of them taking in the moment. Lando moved to the window, staring out at the golden light on the water, his face softening in a way she hadn’t seen often. She felt a swell of gratitude for him, for the way he’d fought beside them and shared in the dreams they had hardly dared to voice.

“So,” Lando said after a moment, breaking the silence as he turned back to them, his tone light but his expression serious. “What are we having for dinner? Because if I see one more olive, I swear…”

She laughed, feeling that warmth in her heart grow. “Well, since you were so brave at the market, I think it’s only fair you get to cook tonight. Maybe something without olives?”

Oscar chuckled, releasing her hand to ruffle Lando’s hair. “You heard her. Best get to it, chef.”

Lando grumbled but headed toward the kitchen with a grin, opening cupboards and muttering as he began gathering ingredients. “I swear, first I’m babysitting, and now I’m cooking… What did I sign up for with you two?”

They shared another laugh, the kind that felt like home. She leaned against Oscar, contentment filling her as she watched Lando fuss in the kitchen, chopping and stirring, the whole house filled with the scent of fresh herbs and the laughter of family.

It was everything she’d once thought impossible—a simple life, a house full of love, a future unfolding in ways she’d never dared to imagine. And as the evening wore on, with candles flickering and laughter filling the room, she knew that this was the true victory, a happiness that even the most dangerous missions had never prepared her for.

As dinner simmered and the warm evening air drifted in through open windows, they gathered around the small kitchen table. Lando had put together a rustic stew with the market’s freshest ingredients, grumbling the entire time about how he was “wasting his tactical precision on chopping vegetables.”

She sat beside Oscar, resting her hand over his, feeling his steady warmth as she laughed at Lando’s commentary on the local produce.

Lando set the steaming pot on the table and glanced between them with a mock glare. “Alright, feast your eyes on what a former sniper can do with a tomato and some herbs. Just don’t tell me it’s not as good as the local food, or you’ll be getting rations next time.”

Oscar took a dramatic sniff, sighing as he ladled a bowl for her first, then one for himself. “Lando, I think you’ve found your true calling. That market bloke’s got nothing on you.”

Lando groaned, rolling his eyes. “Oh, so this is how it’s going to be now—two parents and a live-in chef?”

She grinned, shooting him a playful look. “Or uncle and professional bodyguard? You can even work on your Greek as a side gig. The locals will be lining up to hire you.”

“Oh, I’ll be unmissable,” he said, laughing as he took his seat across from them, a glimmer of real contentment in his eyes. He glanced over at her, nodding toward her belly. “This little one will be lucky to have you two. Even if their mum is as fierce as they come.”

Oscar gave her hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing over her fingers as he smiled softly. “Well, maybe a bit of fierceness runs in the family.”

Dinner passed in easy conversation and laughter, each of them sharing memories from years past, trading stories that used to be about survival but had now softened, like old scars. The three of them spoke of the future, sharing dreams they once hadn’t dared say out loud, not because they didn’t believe in them but because none of them thought they’d make it this far.

As the evening wore on and the stars began to sprinkle the darkening sky, Oscar rose and took her hand, guiding her outside to the small terrace. Together, they leaned against the railing, looking out over the quiet landscape that stretched into the night. She felt his arm slip around her waist, drawing her close, and she leaned into his embrace, sighing with contentment.

Behind them, Lando stepped out onto the terrace, leaning against the doorframe with a rare, quiet smile as he watched them.

Oscar turned, catching his eye. “Not going to bed yet?”

“Nah,” Lando replied, shrugging. “Can’t leave you two alone to get all mushy. Besides, someone’s gotta make sure we’re safe.”

She smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the soft summer air. “Thank you, Lando. For being here. For everything.”

Lando met her gaze, something unspoken passing between them as he nodded. “Wouldn’t be anywhere else.” He paused, then added with a grin, “And besides, I’ve got a good gig here. Food, friends… and I don’t even have to dodge bullets anymore.”

They all laughed, a shared understanding in the sound, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only people in the world. The three of them stood there, beneath a canopy of stars, basking in the kind of peace they’d fought so long to find.

As the laughter faded into a gentle, comfortable silence, Oscar leaned down to kiss her forehead, murmuring, “This is it, isn’t it?”

She looked up at him, her hand resting on her growing belly, and nodded. “Yes. This is it.”

the end.

[roguishcat]

Astarion x Tav Prompt! (for the 200 follower celebration)

Astarion tailoring Tavs clothes before they reach the big city.

Some sensory ideas: rough linen, crackling warm campfire, fingers caressing skin, crisp autumn air, sounds of skin against fabric, soft sighs or humming

Thank you so much for the ask! I love reading tailor Astarion stories, so this is my humble attempt at writing one. Hope you like it! 💕

This is set in Act II, soon after the tiefling party.

Pairing: Astarion x unnamed female Tav

Word count: 2.4k

Part of his plan

To Astarion their relationship was a transaction. A little tit for tat. Because this was what 200 years of servitude taught him. Nothing was ever given for free. Nothing came without a price. And usually it was not worth the pain or the effort anyway.

But when it came to Tav, Astarion found himself trying to make more of an effort to stay in her good graces. Not because he cared about her as such. But he didn’t find the thought of spending time with her, travelling alongside her, even sharing her bedroll as distasteful as with anyone else. Perhaps because she foolishly put others before herself. Perhaps it was her treating him with respect and kindness. But her being nice made him want… to be nice back. Just to make sure that their leader was well and truly smitten, of course.

That evening as Tav changed out of her armour to offer her neck to him, Astarion’s eyes fell to the rather obvious tear in her shirt. She noticed him look and flushed.

“I was going to take care of that yesterday but felt so tired that I just kind of decided to leave it,” she mumbled, pulling at the fabric awkwardly.

She scurried out of his tent and into her own before he could reply. Astarion felt his lips quirk into a smile. Now this was just the opportunity to make himself useful in their leader’s eyes that he was looking for!

He had already bedded Tav and although the experience was hardly unpleasant, he didn’t look forward to using his body over and over just to secure his place by her side. Therefore, making himself so much a part of her life that she felt that he was indispensable to her was crucial in keeping her interested.

Thus assured that he was once again right and everything was going according to his plan, Astarion grabbed his sewing kit and walked confidently in the direction of Tav’s tent.

“Darling, how about I-”

Tav looked up and Astarion was rendered speechless when he looked at her handywork. Only gods knew how she managed to create the monstrosity in her hands in such a short time. And where on earth did she even get thread of such toxic, garish colour?

Tav blushed a rather fetching shade of red and lowered her eyes.

“I suppose I made it worse, haven’t I?” she whispered, clearly embarrassed at being so terrible at something as basic as fixing a simple tear.

“Well… This isn’t the best needlework that I’ve seen, admittedly. But I am certain that it isn’t the worst either.”

The large, uneven stitches were quite remarkable, in their own way.

“How about I take over from here. I’m sure that we can salvage this,” he gently pried the shirt out of her hands and clicked his tongue as he lifted it closer to his eyes.

“I suppose this will take me a little longer than initially anticipated, seeing as I have to undo your fine effort first, but I will certainly finish it come morning.”

Astarion made a move to rise but felt a hand grasp his sleeve.

“You could stay here, if you wanted,” she suggested, making him freeze.

Truth be told, staying here was the last thing that he wanted to do. It was too intimate. Him staying could be misinterpreted as him wanting to engage in certain activities. And sex was the last thing currently on his mind.

“And have you miss out on the chance to catch up on some beauty sleep? How villainous would that be!” he joked, trying to extricate himself without making it too obvious that he wanted to leave.

“Then I could sit out by the campfire with you. I mean, if you want…” she trailed off, suddenly feeling silly, “we could talk.”

“Talk?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“I would like to get to know you more. Learn more about you, if you allow it.”

Talk. Yes, just like people did when they spent any amount of time around each other. He supposed that knocking boots was not enough for someone like Tav, someone who was… sweet.

Astarion supposed he could be forgiven for jumping to the conclusion that her asking to stay was asking for sex. He met few people who wanted him for his conversation skills. Most wanted to bed him, some wanted to spend time with him afterwards. He could recall hardly any who actually seemed to care for him or his past. And one of these people was sitting in her undershirt and waiting for him to make a decision. Always so patient with him, always treating him with such respect.

“Alright, why not,” he conceded, feeling his shoulders relax a touch now that he knew that she was not expecting him to perform. “Seeing as a night of passion is off the table and there is plenty of time until sunrise, I might enjoy this- this getting to know each other better idea. Though you may want to put something on, the night is quite chilly.”

Unfortunately, Tav had little else to wear. Seeing as others were always a priority, she purchased very few things for herself. Astarion rolled his eyes as he saw her eyeing her armour with uncertainty.

“Here,” he pulled his shirt off and handed it to her. “Whilst I may be all but immune to the elements, it wouldn’t do for our leader to be bested by a common cold.”

She hesitated briefly before taking the shirt and slipping it on. It smelled like Astarion, bergamot, rosemary and something else. Something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on but didn’t want to ask.

They walked out of her tent and Astarion took a seat near the campfire.

“So how should we go about it, dearest?” he asked without looking in her direction, but rather focusing on trying to minimize the damage that she did to her clothes.

Honestly, had no one taught her to sew? This work was worse than anything done by the other spawn even in their early days!

“How about… a question for a question?” she suggested, taking a seat beside him.

“Is anything off limits? Are you truly prepared for everything that you might uncover?” he teased, squinting a little as he used the sharp, pointy edge of scissors to carefully unpick her terrible stitches. “Us big city folk come with our terrible, depraved secrets.”

Ah, a blush for his efforts. Familiar territory.

“I can’t say what is off limits,” Tav said, playing with the collar and the ruffles of his shirt with her long, nervous fingers. “How about you are allowed not to answer any one question of your choosing?”

“Seems reasonable,” he shrugged, finally getting the thread that she used to cooperate and pulling on it until the fabric was no longer bunched awkwardly.

“What is your favourite colour?”

How uninspired. Honestly, were they children?

“I assumed it was blue,” she went on. “Your underwear is blue. And you seem to favour the blue dye, when you have a choice.”

“Observant, are we?” he chuckled. “Just how long has it been since I’ve piqued your interest? And yes, this is not a rhetorical question. I do expect an answer.”

“I guess… When you opened the doors on the bugbear and the ogre.”

“Oh? How scandalous of you to find that appealing! Did that get you excited?” he elbowed her gently, finding to his surprise that he was rather enjoying the light tone of the conversation.

“No,” Tav laughed, “but it was the first time you smiled. A real, proper smile. That image stayed with me for a long time. And got me wondering… what is beneath the polished look and practiced mannerisms?”

If Astarion had actually fed on her and any blood coursing through him at this moment, he was quite sure that he would have blushed.

He cleared his throat, “I believe it’s your turn to ask.”

She nodded, but didn’t ask him anything immediately, content to simply watch him for a while. The work of his dexterous fingers was such a contrast to her clumsy, inexperienced movements. Tav knew that she was way out of her depth when it came to Astarion and didn’t think that she would be able to figure him out even if she tried. Which is why she looked for an excuse to talk to him without others being around, wanting to get to know him better. But every time she tried to have a genuine conversation with him in the past, his expression would shutter, and he would give her some tired, clearly practiced lines. And perhaps it was foolish of her, but Tav felt she wanted to get to know him. To really know him.

 “What makes you happy? And I mean apart from walking in on freaky sex.”

“Tsk, I was going to say just that, actually. Took the words right out of my mouth, you cheeky pup.”

In truth, he was not really sure how to answer that. Happiness has not been part of the equation for over two centuries. Survival and prevailing against all odds. That was all that he was concerned with.

“I’m not exactly sure,” he finally admitted with a frown. “Drinking your blood makes me feel… strong. Powerful. Free. I am not sure what it means  to be happy in your books, but I believe this is it for me.”

He took a furtive look at her from underneath his lashes and was taken aback a little by the genuine, warm expression on her face. By the gods! Who did that? Who actually went around looking at people like that? No one did, in his experience.

“I hope you find more things that make you happy,” Tav said earnestly, giving his shoulder a light squeeze.

“Well, the pleasure of your company definitely tops that list,” he cleared his throat and moved away a little, feeling uncomfortable at the warm feeling that bloomed in his chest. Whatever it was.

“Well, of course! But I mean inconsequential nothings. Something that will make you smile. Something that will make you look forward to tomorrow.”

“And what makes you happy, Tav, hm? Seeing as you are the expert on the matter?”

To his surprise, he actually found that he wanted to know the answer.

“Well, it’s nothing unusual. Seeing people I care about being happy. Being helpful. Seeing families reunited.”

“Tsk, you are no fun!”  Astarion clicked his tongue in annoyance. “And here I was, actually answering your questions properly and what do I get in return? A cookie-cutter hero ‘I live to serve’ answer. Give me a break,” he scoffed.

“You don’t believe that people can help others just because?” Tav tossed several sticks into the campfire, the flames rising to lick the dry wood hungrily.

“No,” he said firmly, with conviction. “Not in my experience.”

He took a deep breath that he did not need, more for effect than out of necessity. “People are cruel, vile and everything is done for gain and nothing else.”

“You don’t mean that,” Tav looked down at her knees, playing with the hem of his shirt.

“Oh, but I do. My sweet, sweet friend. Kindness gets people tortured. Kindness gets people killed. Kindness is the root of all trouble and you will be better off if you realise this sooner rather than later-” he stopped himself abruptly when he realised that he almost shouted that last part.

They fell silent, the crackling of the fire loud in the stillness.

“I’m sorry you feel this way,” she finally said.

“It is the truth.”

Astarion did not have to look at Tav to know that she disagreed. It didn’t matter. Their experiences were too different. They were too different. She probably was a nice girl from a small town in the middle of nowhere where neighbors were friends, and every day ended with a lovely sunset over the fields. At least that was what Astarion imagined when he thought about Tav’s home. He never actually bothered to ask. Come to think of it, none of them asked Tav about her past. Although they all seemed to be eager enough to have her help them on their personal quests, they actually knew very little about her.

“Goodness me, we seemed to have gotten carried away with that lively discussion,” he cleared his throat, realising that he was silent far too long. “Your shirt is almost fixed, so one last question.”

“Of course,” she stretched, fighting back a yawn.

“The scars on your side,” he noticed that Tav immediately moved to cover them up, pulling his shirt down with a jerk. “How did you get them?”

He had noticed them before, the night of the party. But he didn’t really care to ask then. Astarion out of all people knew that scars could tell quite a story. Cazador told him that his were a poem, but he was determined to find out exactly what it was that that bastard carved into his skin.

Astarion was a little taken aback when Tav’s demeanor changed, the expression turning bitter for the briefest moment before she caught herself. When she turned to look at him, her smile was as pleasant as any she would usually give him.

“Ah. I believe this is the question I will choose not to answer. At least not tonight. Thank you for my shirt and for talking to me. I enjoyed getting to know you a little better. Goodnight.”

“Sleep well, my dear,” he handed her the mended shirt, watching her walk away from the campfire without another word.

Well, perhaps there was more to their fearless leader after all. There was definitely a secret, something that she did not want to be uncovered just yet. And that piqued his interest. Perhaps a goblet of wine or two would loosen her tongue next time they decided to meet for a chat.

Astarion scowled. Him finding talking to Tav pleasant and them bonding was not part of the plan. On the contrary, any sort of relationship was a hindrance.

The vampire rose soundlessly and looked into the woods. Perhaps a hunt to clear his head would do him good. If anything, it would take his mind off Tav. Because whatever was happening between them had to remain a transaction. And it would be prudent not to forget that even for a moment.

💖 Tag list 💖:

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[amongemeraldclouds]

better than revenge | chapter seven: blurring lines

Lorenzo Berkshire x Reader

Series trope: Fake dating 

Chapter seven summary: Blink and the lines are blurred. How much longer can you keep lying to yourself? Enzo shares his advice. 867 words.

Warning: Fluff, no use of y/n, making out, angst.

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Blink and the lines are blurred.

“I think I see Mattheo,” I whisper, pulling Enzo to the nearest wall. I reach my hands up his hair and kiss him, my senses electrified.

He wraps his arms around my waist, pushing me into the wall, leaving no space between us. He’s a contradiction of soft lips and hard muscles, tender touch and and fierce kisses.

He snakes his tongue in my mouth and I suck on it, gripping his hair to pull him close. I am pure want, I ache and —

I am Enzo’s fake girlfriend. I blink and let go of his hair. It takes him a second to catch up and untangle himself, consciously fixing his hair.

“I think he’s gone now,” I say, looking around. If I stopped lying to myself, I could admit I didn’t even see Mattheo at all.

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

“Come here,” Enzo says, settling into the couch. My heart thumps along with the party music’s erratic rhythm, matching the anticipation in Enzo’s eyes. “Mattheo hangs out in dark corners like these. He’ll see us soon enough.” I nod as he pulls me onto his lap and I straddle him.

He runs a hand through my hair then cradles the back of my neck to bring my lips to his and I wrap my arms around him. I revel in the familiarity of his kiss as he moves his hand along my legs, drawing out moans and goosebumps from me.

When he brings his mouth to my neck, I hum in approval as he glides his tongue against the vibration it creates. I scan the crowd for Mattheo but my thoughts are scattered when Enzo brings his hand to my ass, pressing me right where he needs me. “Is this okay?” He asks.

I breathe out a soft “yes,” which earns me a grunt from him and I gasp when he starts moving against me. I roll my hips against him, creating friction, needing more.

My head snaps when I hear laughter from a nearby group lost in their own conversation. Gathering the last few threads of my restraint, I lean my forehead against Enzo, catching my breath.

“We should probably leave it here,” I say. “Yeah,” he replies breathlessly.

I stand up and offer a hand to him. “Maybe we could use a walk to clear our head?”

“I’d like that.” Enzo smiles, the heat of the moment replaced with the ease we have around each other.

Hand in hand, we leave the party. From the corner of my eye, I spot Mattheo just entering.

“So this plan didn’t work,” I comment.

“Yeah, something like that,” he says, not quite referring to The Book, but I don’t dare linger on it for too long.

“I’m sorry,” I say, heat creeping up my cheeks. “I got carried away back there.”

“No, if anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I didn’t mean to take advantage.”

“Take advantage? Of me?” I ask incredulously. “Enzo Enzo Enzo,” I recite playfully. “You can’t be both the damsel in distress and the villain scheming against her ex-boyfriend. Which one do you think I am?”

“Okay,” he huffs, rolling his eyes at my dramatics. I may have had a firewhiskey or two. “Definitely not the damsel in distress.”

“Good boy,” I smirk. He stares at my lips for a second too long and then looks away, clearing his throat.

“I just mean,” he starts, expression turning serious. “I know you’re still hurting over Mattheo, what he did sucks and you didn’t deserve it. How are you feeling?”

Salazar, his earnest eyes pierce through my defenses. 

“So, it’s my therapy time, huh?” I ask with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.

“You know, I honestly thought revenge would feel better,” I sigh. “The more I think about why I’m so angry, I realize it’s because of how good things were and when I lost that, I lost part of myself too. I miss him and I’m so mad at myself for it. Why do I still care? Why does it matter? And I miss who I used to be,” I shake my head, fighting the tears that well up.

“I also think about losing the future I hoped to have with Mattheo, things I dreamed of. And now, I don’t know. I just feel lost,” I trail off, my eyes unfocused.

“I get that,” he says. “You know, I broke up with my girlfriend last year and I was messed up for a while. She’s a halfblood so it was never going to work. We tried though,” he says, recalling bittersweet memories.

“How did you get over it?” I ask. “Any advice?”

“Well, you know what the silver lining is to having your heart crushed and your future hopes dashed?”

I laugh at his summary, “there’s a silver lining?”

He gives me a kind smile, “you get to start over again. Dream new dreams, maybe even fall in love again.”

Enzo’s words hang in the air and for a moment, I dare to hope. Just a drop of courage in the sea of grief. It’s not much, but perhaps it’s enough.

“Yeah?” I muse.

“Yeah.”

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A/N: The series ends next week with chapter nine! Then one alternative chapter will be posted the following week. Thanks for being here. ♡

Taglist: @hoeforvinniehackerrr @i-think-you-are-gr8 @thecraziestcrayon @adreamingpendulum @themarauderswife7 @midsoulz @ultramarinetovelvet @val-writes @lafrone @daisiesformylove @mildly-delulu @allebasi05 @enha-stan @skb4000 @nat1221 @s0urw00lf @helpimhopelesslyinlove

[ahgasegotarmy116]

The Art of Etiquette Part 4 | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: You and Jungkook get to know each other a bit better Pairing: f!reader x Etiquette instructor Jungkook Word Count: 4.6k~ a/n: Took me a while to get back to this story so I made this chapter a bit longer. Hope you like it! Read from the beginning

"Again" Jungkook says in a commanding tone, watching as I pick up the book I had balanced on top of my head while he had me running through the steps for a waltz on my own. (yes, like you see in those cheesy princess movies)

"Why am I doing this again?" I ask, stopping for a second to prevent the book from wobbling so much. "It's to help with your posture and balance. Once you've learned how to maintain proper posture then we can fine tune it to make it seem more natural" he says an eyebrow raised as he watches me trying to regain balance of the book as well as myself. 

"How much longer do I have to do this?" I ask as I finally am able to regain my composure. "As long as I tell you to. Now please stop talking and focus on what you're trying to achieve" he says and I roll my eyes since luckily I have my back facing him this time, leaving me able to blow off a little bit of steam without him noticing. 

Ten or fifteen minutes later he finally lets me take a break. "Here" he says while handing me a glass of water. I look up at him with a confused expression, wondering what's gotten into him. He's hot one minute and the cold the next and I really don't know where things stand between us most days. "Are you going to take it or not?" he asks, clearly getting impatient. 

"Yes, sorry. Thank you" I say quickly reach for it, our hands subtly brushing up against each other and neither of us pulling away right away. "Um, Mr. Jeon?" I say, questioning why he hasn't let go. 

"Oh" he says and pulls his hand back, acting as if he had touched a hot stove. "Rest for ten minutes and then be ready to begin again" he says, clearing his throat and walking out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. 

Pulling out my phone I open Jesse's message thread and send him a text immediately.

'Bitch' I simply send, knowing that that kind of message will get his attention right away. 

'Bitch' is all he sends back, showing that he's listening. 

'Jungkook is acting weird again' I send, not really knowing how else to explain it. 

'Isn't he always though? What happened this time?' he sends, making a point but also wanting to know more.  

'He has me dancing around the room with a book on top of my head, you know very princess in training kind of situation' I send, annoyed at the fact that I've already been doing this for an hour. 

'Okay, doesn't sound too crazy to me'  he replies, not really sure where I'm going with this. 

'He's been doing stuff like this for weeks right? But today he's been leaning up against the wall and watching me, but I feel like this time he's checking me out more than anything. I don't know it just feels different. And he said I could take a break (hence why I'm able to talk to you now) and he gave me a glass of water' I send off, trying to get it all out before he gets back. 

'Okay and? Sounds like he's just being nice'  he sends back, not really getting the full picture yet.

'But the thing is, once he handed it to me he wouldn't let go of it. Like it took me a second to grab it because I was confused as to why he was being so nice to me but then when I finally did take it it was like he wanted to keep our hands touching. I don't know but it felt kind of weird' I send, hoping to get some validation for my feelings about this. 

'Oooo sounds like lover boy might be into you'  he teases and I can't help but smile and roll my eyes when I see the message. I of course told him about the dress incident and he's been teasing me about it ever since. 

'No he's not' I send, wondering though if he might be right. 

'Okay but what happened after that?'  he asks, pressing for more details since things have gotten a bit more juicy (how he would describe it, not me).

'Well I called out his name since he seemed to be in a bit of a daze and when he realized what he was doing he ripped his hand away and looked flustered? Nervous? I don't know but he definitely was more surprised by his actions than I was. And then he just kinda left and said to be ready to continue in ten minutes' I send, not really knowing how to describe his reaction. 

"Let's get started" Jungkook says, walking into the practice room again and I send Jesse a quick message telling him I have to go and lock the screen and throw it in my bag before I'm able to see his response. 

I stand up and smooth out my skirt and walk back towards where I had placed the book down and reach for it again but before I'm able to touch it Jungkook grabs my wrist and pulls it away and places my hand on his shoulder, and pulls me in by the waist. I take in a sharp breath at the sudden proximity and I'm left staring at him with a wide eyed look. "I thought I needed more practice with my posture" I say, confused as to why he's done this so suddenly. 

"You seem to be progressing faster than I had anticipated so I figured we should move on" He says, leaning towards me, leaving me having to close my eyes, not really sure what to do but I'm startled by the sound of music suddenly playing through the speakers again. Now just realizing he was leaning in closer so he could press play on the sound system. 

"Are you alright?" he ask with a smug look on his face after standing upright and seeing the blush that had started to form on my cheeks. "I'm fine" I say, clearing my throat and looking off to the side so I can avoid his playful gaze. I hear him chuckle under his breath and say something that I just can't catch which leaves me turning back to face him. 

"What was that?" I ask with my brows pinched together in confusion. "Nothing, now focus and try not to step on my feet like last time" he taunts and I grace him with a sarcastic smile in return before he starts to lead me in this waltz that we've gone through a million times at this point. 

"Head up, back straight, wrists relaxed" he lists off, fixing the small details to make everything look seamless and I can't help but agree. With these minor changes it feels more natural and comfortable with each and every turn. 

Once the song finally ends we both part and I do a slight curtsy to him and he bows back. "That wasn't horrible, wasn't the best, but better" he says, trying his hardest not to make his compliment go to my head. "Umm thanks?" I say with a questioning tone, thinking that I did a lot better this time but I guess he's someone who is never truly satisfied.

"Grab you things, we're leaving" he says and puts on his suit jacket and looks in the mirror, fixing the collar and making sure everything is in place. "What do you mean?" I question, quickly grabbing my jacket and purse off the table in the corner of the room. 

"Did your father not inform you? We're going out to dinner tonight, I need to asses your table manners and this would be the best way to go about it. We'll work on fine tuning the small details tomorrow if need be" he says and walks down the hall, rushing me out of his home. 

"I've made reservations for us so we need to make sure to be punctual, which you have gotten a bit better at so well done" he says and holds the front door open for me to head out first so he can lock up. 

For some reason that small bit of praise has a nervous feeling start to bubble in my stomach and I get slightly nervous at the thought of being with him like this. It's not a date or anything but it just feels weird, like it's uncharted territory for us. 

"We'll take my car. You father has already sent someone to pick yours up" he says, never bothering to give me a choice in the matter. I might as well not have a car at this rate, seeing as he always seems to make the decision to drive the both of us. "You know you don't have to drive me around right? I really don't mind taking my car and meeting you there" I say as I walk towards him where he's holding the passenger side door open for me. 

"I am well aware. It's more convenient this way. I have another meeting in the city again so I'll be dropping you off at home as well" he informs me and closes the door once I've gotten in. "You're really controlling did you know that?" I say, finally voicing my opinions since I'm tired of him making choices for me. 

"I believe I make decisions that would be the most advantageous for the both of us so if that's seen as controlling then yes I am. Are you done now?" he asks as he gets into the driver's side and puts on his seatbelt before starting the car. "Whatever" I mumble, crossing my arms over my chest and angling my body away from him. He decides to let this one go, honestly not seeing the error in his ways until I spoke up and makes it a point to discuss this later when I'm not already upset with him.

~~~~

The drive to the restaurant is painfully silent and he doesn't bother to put any sort of music on leaving the tension that had built between us still thick with animosity (at least from my side). As we get closer though I start to realize that some of that anger and frustration might just be from the fact that I'm actually starving so I decide to make a note to give him a bit of a break, trying to be a bit more reasonable. 

Once we've pulled up I see that we're eating at one of the high rise restaurants that I've always wanted to go to and I can feel myself already start to salivate. "Close your mouth or you'll start drooling again" Jungkook says as he unbuckles his belt and gets out of the car, handing the keys to the valet, exchanging it for a ticket. 

I close my mouth and frown at him before going to do the same but before I'm able to open the car door on my own I see that he has yet again opened it for me and is now offering his hand to help me out. I have half a mind to brush it off and get out on my own but then I remember that we're in public and this is one of those times that I need to be showing off the skills that he has been teaching me, so I graciously accept it and step out of the car. 

"Good girl" he whispers to me and I turn towards him with a startled look on my face. "I could tell what was going on in that pretty little head of yours but you accepted my hand nonetheless so good job" he says and takes my hand, placing it on his arm to lead me inside. 

Being this close to him and especially in public feels different, he seems a bit more relaxed and isn't as short with me. It's nice but it feels weird, I just never know what version of Jungkook I'm going to get these days and it's making me dizzy. 

"Table for two?" the host asks us when we walk up to the podium. "Yes it should be under the name Jeon" Jungkook answers and I'm thankful that he does. I'm not a shy person so to say but I definitely feel out of my element so as the minutes go by he seems to bring me a sense of comfort and familiarity. 

"Ah yes Mr. Jeon, if you will follow me please" the host replies and leads us to our table that seems to be set up in a nice almost intimate corner of the restaurant. Safe from the pressure of the masses that are seated all around. 

I could've sworn I saw a senator or governor around here before we sat down as well as a CEO or two so it's nice to not have to worry about perfectly keeping up appearances as of yet. That's just what our family needs, a scandal because of me spilling a drink on someone important or not chewing my food properly and being called a slob. 

Okay that last one was probably a stretch but still it's not something that needs to be added to the list since our family is already under fire for my stepfather marrying beneath his social status. I want to do everything I can to keep from adding something else to his plate so I guess I should still be on my best behavior. 

"Good evening" our waiter says when he comes around to no doubt take our orders. "Oh Mr. Jeon, how lovely to see you again. Is this another one of your students?" he asks, looking over at me with a friendly smile. "Yes this is Miss y/n, my newest pupil" Jungkook replies, matching the same warmth the waiter has offered to us both.

Looking at him as he exchanges pleasantries with this man I can see almost a hint of a smile, a genuine one at that. They must know each other well since he recognizes him and already knows what Jungkook does for a living. "We'll have the set menu please with a glass of merlot for the both of us" Jungkook finishes and I'm startled out of my train of thought at the fact that again he didn't give me a chance to make a choice for myself. 

He notices the slightly narrowed gaze I'm giving him and he has the audacity to smile, clearly enjoying my reaction. "Why didn't yo-" "At the various events you shall be attending this fall you won't have much of a choice in the menu so it's better to get used to eating food that you wouldn't necessarily order on your own" he says placing his napkin on his lap. 

"At least you ordered the kind of wine I like" I mumble, mirroring him with my napkin at well. "What was that?" he asks, clearly using it to subtly scold me and ask me to speak properly or not speak at all. Or that's what he's told me in the past. 

"I said you have an excellent taste in wine" I respond with a pained smile, hating that I'm complimenting him, no matter how small it might be. "I asked Matthew what kind you tend to prefer and he gave me a few options" he says and takes a sip of the water that had already been placed here for us. 

"You asked what my favorite type of wine is?" I question, confused again by this constant push and pull between us. "Did I not just say that?" he says and before I'm able to respond the wine in question is brought to our table. "Your first course will be out in just a moment" the waiter from before says and he leaves us again as quickly as he had come.

"Try it" Jungkook says and waits for me to take a sip before he does the same. I do as he says and let the subtly sweet flavor envelop my tastebuds leaving me letting out an almost inaudible moan, surprised that wine could even taste this good. 

"Needless to say it is to your liking?" Jungkook asks, clearly amused with my reaction and I can't help but nod feeling embarrased. "Yes I guess you could say that" I respond awkwardly before taking another sip, trying to hide my reaction to it a bit more this time. 

~~~~~

The dinner goes on without a hitch. Jungkook and I actually engage in pleasant conversation and I end up learning a bit more about him. "So what you're saying is that because you hated how bratty and rude rich kids around you were when you were growing up that it made you want to become an etiquette teacher to fix the future generation of rich kids" I summaries, the thought of it almost laughable. 

"In so many words yes, I guess you could say that" he says, smiling at my simplified version. "So you've been a control freak from day one. I mean-" I say, my eyes wide while covering my mouth after I've realized what I had just said. "I think this wine has gone to your head y/n" he teases, this time using my name without any sort of formal title attached to it, somehow causing butterflies to stir in my stomach. 

"Yes you're probably right" I say, just now noticing the fact that he only had one glass at the beginning of our meal where as I am on my third. I set my glass down and start drinking water to hopefully clear up my head a bit but I guess the damage has been done. 

~~~~ 

As we walk out of the restaurant with my arm linked with his just as it had been before we went inside I turn to face him while we wait for the valet to bring the car around. "I'm sorry Mr. Jeon, what I had said in there was completely uncalled for" I say, admitting to my fault. "It's fine, I guess I have been quite harsh with you from the very start and that hasn't been very fair to you" he says, again surprising me with the walls that seem to be breaking down showing me what a kind and considerate person he can be. 

Before I can say anything else our car has stopped right in front of us and Jungkook leads me over to it and opens the door to help me inside, trying his best to maintain some sense of subtly at the fact that I might be a bit tipsy. Wanting to hopefully keep both of our images in tact. He closes the door after he's made sure that I'm all set and exchanges the keys with the ticket and gives the valet a tip before going to the drivers side and closing it behind him. 

He looks over at me and leans over towards me, leaving me confused and closing my eyes again just as I had done before in the practice room today and before I'm able to say anything I hear him pulling the seatbelt over and buckling it around me. I open my eyes and see that he's still close even though he had already fastened it and we both just sit there for what feels like hours studying each other's features. 

"Thank you" I say barely above a whisper which seems to break him out of the momentary trance he had been in for a few moments and sits back up straight mumbling a quick "You're welcome" before pulling out of the parking lot and back onto the road. 

Again the ride is silent but this one is filled with more of an awkward air to it with some sort of tension as well. What kind of tension is something I'm not sure of but he's definitely gotten close enough to kiss me on multiple occasions today alone but I'm not exactly sure if that's just the kind of guy he is or if there's something else going on in his head. 

~~~~~~

As we round the corner to my house I see Jesse's car parked outside with him sitting inside of it while on his phone. "Jesse?" I say aloud, perplexed as to why he would show up unannounced but I'm happy about it nonetheless. "Who's that?" Jungkook asks, his clear curiosity a surprise to me. "Just a friend" I say casually, trying to gauge his reaction and to my surprise I see the muscle in his jaw tense as he clenches his teeth a bit before tonguing his cheek soon after. 

When Jesse finally notices the car he looks up and smiles when he sees me and then looks over to the driver's side and sees Jungkook for the first time and gives him an unreadable expression. Unreadable if you're not familiar with him but with how close the two of us are I can tell that he's trying his hardest not to freak out after finally seeing him in person. 

As Jungkook moves his car further up the driveway Jesse makes his way up towards the house as well on foot, meeting us when Jungkook parks his car right outside the front door. "Jesse hey! Were we supposed to meet tonight?" I ask, still confused as to why he's here. "Yeah we were gonna watch a movie, remember?" he says in a voice much deeper than usual, throwing me off guard and checking out Jungkook who is standing right behind me. 

"Oh sorry Jesse this is Mr. Jeon, he's my teacher I had talked to you about. Jungkook, this is one of my friends from college Jesse" I say introducing the two, kind of catching on to the reason for Jesse's change in behavior. Jungkook comes closer and goes to shake Jesse's outstretched hand but still stands behind me, making him press up against my back, our bodies flush together for only a moment before he let's go and take's a few steps back to his previous spot. 

"Thank you for dinner Jungkook, I really enjoyed myself" I say turning to face him while Jesse makes his way over to the door waiting for us to say our goodbyes. "Jungkook?" Jungkook says, raising a brow at me, this being the first time I've used his first name. "I-I mean Mr. Jeon" I say, feeling flustered by my need for correction. 

"It's okay, you can call me that if you'd like" he say before reaching back into his car to grab my jacket and purse that I've left sitting in the passenger seat. "Oh, thank you" I say taking both of them and taking note of how he again brushes his hand up against mine. "Goodnight y/n" he says, placing his hand almost protectively on my waist before glancing over and giving Jesse a quick nod which he returns. 

"Goodnight" I say and quickly scurry off before I try to do something stupid and make matters worse and what I don't notice is how Jungkook closes the passenger side door and leans up against his car watching as I go and takes in the small interaction that Jesse and I have while I'm pulling out my keys to go inside. 

I only notice when I turn back around to close the door where we make eye contact for only a second before he pushes himself off of the side of the car and walks over to the drivers side and drives off. 

As I watch his car slowly disappear I don't take notice into the fact that I've slowly leaned further and further out of the doorway to watch him go until I hear Jesse's deep voice scare me half to death behind me. 

"Girl you got it bad" he says, laughing while I almost fall on my face from the precarious position I had put myself in. "I do not!" I say and turn around to close and lock the door before running up the steps to my room with Jesse hot on my heels. 

"Did you see the way he was looking at you? At me?" he laughs, seeing how defensive and flustered I am. "No" I continue and shush him so he doesn't wake up the whole house. "If looks could kill I would be six feet under" he says once we've gotten to my room. "Why were you acting all masculine out there? I mean not to say that you aren't masculine but you know what I mean" I say, pretty much knowing but wanting to make sure. 

"I wanted to see how he would react to another guy being around you. One that he thought was straight and close to you" he teases while throwing himself on my bed. "Why would you want to do that?" I question, taking off my heels and grabbing some clothes to go change in in my bathroom. "Because I wanted to see if he would get jealous and if jealous was a person his name would be Jeon Jungkook" he says, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

"Why would he get jealous? He hates me" I say, not even believing the words that are coming out of my own mouth. "Please, he was practically green" he says laying on his back and picking up one of the books that I still haven't finished and thumbing through it. "He was not!" I say finding his observations ridiculous. 

"Did you see how possessive he got with you? How he purposefully leaned against you to shake my hand instead of going around. How he held your waist when he said goodnight. I'm pretty sure I heard him say that you could call him Jungkook now instead of Mr. Jeon right?" he lists, showing me what Jungkook's behaviors added all together really showed.

I groan after I come out of my bathroom, throwing myself on the bed next to him and staring up at the ceiling trying to process everything that happened today. "What am I supposed to think about all of this? What am I going to say when I see him tomorrow? What is he going to say?" I ask aloud, dreading the answers to these questions even though I know I won't be getting any answers tonight.

"Just go in tomorrow and act like everything is fine. Try out that more casual approach by calling him Jungkook like he told you you could. I don't know just take it easy and follow his lead and see where things go from there" he suggests and I take a deep breath, taking in everything he's saying and deciding the best thing I could do right now is try to distract myself. 

"Why are you here anyways?" I question, turning towards him now realizing that we never talked about him coming over tonight. "I wanted to hear about what happened after what you told me earlier today but I think I saw all that I needed to see" he says turning over to face me with a teasing smirk and I push him a little in response. 

"Do you wanna watch a movie?" he suggests. "Please" I groan out and he laughs at my response. While he turns on my tv I send Jungkook a quick message just trying to hopefully clear the air after what happened tonight. 

'Drive safe :)' I send before I can second guess myself. 

'Always x'  he responds almost immediately, leaving me smiling. Who knew that one little 'x' could make me so flustered.

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[apomaro-mellow]

Every Baby Needs a Daddy 15

Part 14

There is officially StevexCC in this. If that is not your jam, skip this part bc that's all that happens here.

Eddie and Steve lied together in bed, Eddie rubbing his back and Steve playing with Eddie's hair. Steve had said he could come down for the movie and the topic had turned to their opinions on different movies.

"You're gonna hate me, but...I've never seen all of Lord of the RIngs", Steve admitted.

"Now why would I hate you for that?", Eddie asked.

"Because you treat the books like a holy bible."

"All I heard was I get to see you experience the full trilogy for the first time someday. Which is the best present you can give me."

Steve raised a brow. "Better than me dressing up as a sexy character for you?"

"I take it back. If you dress up as Uhura or something, I'd adequately lose my mind."

Steve kept that bit of info in his pocket for later. Soon, the conversation veered back to what would happen tonight. Eddie had talked to his friends about it.

"I told them all about what you like and what you don't care for", Eddie said.

And just the idea that they were discussing him like that had Steve getting warm. He insisted on washing up beforehand though. It had been days and while he and Eddie were drunk on the scent, it wouldn't be quite as pleasant to other noses. At least how it was now.

Steve could've cried as he watched the water fill the gigantic bath tub. He'd seen it already, of course. But this would be his first time actually bathing in it. It was big enough to fit two grown men comfortably and that was just a dream for Steve.

He let out a purr as he got inside. Eddie followed and they took their sweet time washing each other. Of course, the touches lingered, and Steve wanted to take it further. He got hotter thinking of the possibilities of tonight. And Eddie could tell, so after a while, he changed his touches to something more chaste.

"You're being so good right now, sweetheart. I can tell you're saving it for later." Eddie rewarded him with a kiss and after soaking for a while longer, they drained the tub and got out.

Eddie kept it simple with a t-shirt and some sweats. Steve wore a pair of boxers he had packed, but topped it with a sweater Eddie owned. He looked himself over in the bathroom mirror when a thought came to his mind.

"Daddy...", he called out in a soft voice. "I have an idea..."

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

Grant was the first one down, seeing that Eddie and Steve were already taking up space on the couch. Steve's head was in Eddie's lap, Eddie's fingers carding through his hair. They looked the picture of comfort, especially with the blanket covering Steve's legs.

"Nice to see you both again", Grant said, taking the recliner on the side and putting his feet up.

"Nice to see you too", Steve said. "Thanks for scenting all those things for me", he added as Jeff and Gareth came down.

"Our pleasure", Jeff took the other side of the couch, letting Steve put his feet in his lap.

Gareth didn't reply as he sat down on the floor, legs stretching out under the coffee table. If Steve reached out just a little bit, he could touch the curls on his head. He kept his hand playing with a frayed thread on Eddie's pants though.

The movie of the evening was Fire and Ice. A decent flick, but one that Eddie had introduced to Steve already. So as his alpha stroked his hair, Steve found it very easy to slip. To let the final embers of his heat rise up for a final crescendo of the night. His hips shifted a little. He felt so empty. He needed... he needed...

Eddie's ears perked as he started to hear the tiny whimpers his baby was trying to keep down. He was trying not to come off as needy but that wasn't necessary. Just as Eddie had answered the call, he was sure the others would too. Eddie's hand moved from his hair, down his chest, to under the blanket.

Steve's breath hitched as he was simply cupped under the covers. It had been his idea to go completely pants-less for the evening, which was why they had to be first downstairs. Steve also insisted on putting a towel under himself, not wanting to mess up what was probably a very expensive couch.

Eddie held him for a moment, feeling the heat coming off him before rubbing slowly, prompting Steve to pull his feet off of Jeff's lap and open his legs. It was faint, but the scent of aroused omega began to waft through the room. Steve's lips parted as his pants got a little louder. Jeff was the first to take his eyes off the tv, able to hear clearly how wet Steve was getting under the blanket.

Steve turned completely onto his back to look up at Eddie from his lap, eyes pleading. "Daddy", he whispered, hips jerking as his clit was played with.

"You know baby, I think now's a good time to train the boys in taking care of you."

Steve nodded eagerly, slowly pulling the blanket off to reveal himself, turning his gaze to Jeff as he spread his legs even more. Eddie teased at his hole but didn't go in. He kissed the top of Steve's head.

"Remember to use your words, sweetheart. There's no mind readers here."

"Wanna be filled. I feel so empty", Steve whined.

The air got thicker with Steve's scent and Jeff started to palm himself through his pants. Eddie finally pushed a finger inside but he knew it wouldn't be long before Steve was wanting for more.

"Watch closely Jeffie", Eddie said as he sunk his finger in deep. When he pulled out to the fingertip, Steve's hips rolled with it and Eddie pushed back in.

"Shit", Jeff said as he squeezed himself.

"Didn't I tell you he had a pretty cunt?"

"So fucking pretty", Jeff praised, making Steve release a moan as Eddie removed his finger completely. Jeff moved closer between Steve's legs. He stroked his thighs before gently rubbing the folds of his pussy. Steve's hips started to roll again and Jeff bit his lip as he sunk a finger into his heat. Eddie cupped the back of his hand, guiding Jeff in how to finger Steve.

Steve reveled in the look of rapture on Jeff's face, knowing it was his body's doing. He looked over to where Grant was sitting and saw that he had pulled out his cock and was stroking it slowly. He couldn't wait to get it in his mouth. He couldn't wait to-

"Fuuck", his thoughts were cut off when he felt two hands on him at once. One was Jeff, thumb circling his clit as he fucked him slowly with two fingers. The other was Eddie, kneading at his chest roughly through his sweater. Steve's head tossed and he saw that there was only one that wasn't looking at him right now.

He reached a hand out to pet at the back of Gareth's head. His eyes were still trained onto the tv and to be truthful, Steve's vanity wouldn't take it.

"Gareth, look at me, please."

"...Is it really okay?", Gareth asked in a soft voice.

"He wouldn't be asking if it wasn't", Eddie assured him.

Slowly, Gareth turned his head and looked at Steve's face first. He ventured to move a little closer as Steve gripped the back of his head in a soft hold. Gareth's eyes roamed from his torso to his legs, watching as Eddie pulled the sweater up, showing up more of his body. He pushed his hand below the waistband of his pants, rubbing between his legs. Steve stroked Gareth's hair, almost in time with the way Jeff was stroking him.

With a bit of coaxing, Steve was able to bring him in for a very light kiss, just the barest touching of lips. Gareth didn't press and Steve was too caught in the middle of a moan as he felt himself getting closer. Then, just before Steve came, Jeff slowed his thrusting and pulled his fingers out. Steve let out a whine, about to complain when Eddie tugged at a nipple.

"I know Stevie, you wanna be filled. And I think Gareth is the one to do the job."

Gareth's eyes widened as he snapped his head to Eddie. "Me? Dude, I don't think-"

"Please?", Steve begged. "I need it, please."

Gareth's eyes looked between them both before landing on Eddie a final time. Eddie gave him a nod, assuring him that everything would be okay. He had only told Steve that Gareth had his reasons for being nervous. But Gareth would have to show him himself. Jeff got off the couch and sat on the floor by Steve's legs, giving him a good view of his cunt still. Gareth stood and pushed his bottoms down. Steve licked his lips as it was revealed to him.

He instantly understood why Gareth would be wary, but to Steve he was simply looking at a gorgeous t-dick that he needed to get inside him some kind of way as soon as possible. His jaw dropped a little and Eddie crooked a finger forward at Gareth, who stepped closer. Just enough to paint Steve's lips with the tip of his dick and just barely slip it inside.

They let out twin moans and Steve felt himself drowning, just as Eddie said he would. He could've cum like this probably, just from sucking Gareth off, but his alpha knew what he needed more and pulled him off by the hair.

"That's a good baby", Eddie praised. "Gareth, go ahead."

Swallowing thickly, Gareth moved to get on the couch, settling between Steve's legs. He hovered over, lowering his hips slowly. When he finally made contact, they both let out a sigh and Steve was already undulating, trying to get more.

"Slow down, angel. Let Gare set the pace", Eddie said. He glanced up briefly to see both Grant and Jeff stroking their cocks as they watched Gareth and Steve rock against each other. He got a little dizzy himself, thinking about Steve letting one of them take his mouth. But for this first time, in the privacy of their home, he wanted Steve to be as loud as possible, with nothing muffling the beautiful music he was making with his body.

Eddie could tell the moment Gareth slipped his dick inside because Steve let out a choked moan and Gareth started to fuck him in earnest. The wet schlick sounding between them drowned out anything coming from the tv. Steve's arms went around Gareth's neck, pulling him to lie right on top so that he could nose at his neck.

Steve was so gone, he didn't know that Eddie had beckoned Grant over to be closer until he was already there, jerking himself by Steve's head. Just as he thought how perfect that it would be in his mouth, his orgasm crashed through him and he felt Gareth's cock pulse inside of him and moments later, Grant's cum painted his cheek and nose. It was so much, it was almost enough, it was almost-

"J...Je..f", Steve tried to speak through panting but it was difficult when his mind was so deeply clouded by pleasure.

Thankfully, somehow the meaning got through and he felt Jeff's fingers on his tongue, the alpha giving him a taste of the cum right from his cock. With that, he had the scent marking of all three on him and his omega felt sated. If he wasn't officially pack before, he was now. And Steve never felt more at home.

Hoo boy. It was hard to write this part one-handed but boy howdy we got it done!

Part 16

Tag Team CLOSED

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[hazbinned]

Dash Game: Behind the Mun

Name: Al

Most Active Muses: Valentino, Alastor, and Vox

Experience: I've been roleplaying since before I knew what the word meant, and writing for even longer than that. I started THIS type of roleplay on old defunct forums about 11 years ago. In the grand scheme of things, I'm very new to Tumblr. Some of you were on this site when I was five.

Fluff, Angst, or Smut: I get the most excited about plots that are a lot of everything. Things that are plotted out and allow the characters to have arcs and go through an entire range of emotions and events: good, bad, funny, scary... I do enjoy the simpler things that stick to just one theme, but they're not what I usually find myself losing sleep over.

And, side note, I don't write smut. Suggestive is fine but it has to fade to black before graphic content occurs.

Long or Short Replies: LONG. Short is fine, and sometimes it's all I have energy for, so I do enjoy the short threads! The long ones are what get me EXCITED, though. The "rush to read it right now" kind of excited. I can talk and talk about dynamics developed within long threads for hours, but I have a harder time doing that with short ones.

Pet Peeves: Chewing. Being woken up. Being touched.

Being rushed. There's a difference between "hey, you haven't replied to this in a couple months, did you forget?" (which is TOTALLY FINE) and questioning me about our thread every time you see me online. I am a SLOW writer and can sometimes take months to reply. Rushing makes me go "well, now I'm going to take even LONGER!"

Are You Like Your Muse: Alastor. It's much more evident in person (minus the CRIME) but the more you know me the more you know.

I've got a wide array of characters, so I'm not going to list them, but I'm sure I could find at least one similarity between me and each character, even if it's a tiny one. For example: I like bubble tea. >:)

Time to Write: ... It's more fun to play "European or Nocturnal?"

Tagged by: @hells-greatestdad { Thank you!!! }

Tagging: @sirserpentine @angie-long-legs @voxiiferous @hellmxses @advlox and YOU. 🫵🫵🫵🫵

[shewasverynice]

Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen 

⚠️ SPOILER HEAVY ⚠️

Major Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Full tags/warnings on Chapter links post

Major Characters: Original Character, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Ieiri Shoko, Yaga Masamichi, Nanami Kento, Haibara Yu, Tsukumo Yuki, Choso

‎‧₊˚✧ Chapter 23 ✧˚₊‧

Satoru flopped back on his bed, phone clutched in his hand as he stared at the ceiling. "This is ridiculous," he thought, but that didn’t stop him from nervously tapping his foot against the mattress. Suguru was literally next door, probably reading or meditating or whatever he did in that calm, collected way of his, and yet here was Satoru, unable to just get up, walk over, and ask him out on a proper date!

Two months now. They'd been official for two months and so far they had been gently coasting in a fuzzy haze. It wasn't all that much different honestly, but Suguru's soft smiles and the way he spoke to Satoru? Fantastic! Absolutely gorgeous. The feeling was incredible.

He sighed dramatically, holding his phone above his head. “Come on, Satoru,” he muttered to himself. “You’re literally the most powerful man in existence. You can handle this.” 

…Nope. Too scary. Instead, he pulled up their text thread—most recent message? A picture of the terrible ramen Satoru had dared Suguru to try last week. He snickered a little at the memory before typing out: 

Hey!

He hit send and immediately stared at the screen, willing it to light up with a reply. He barely had to wait five seconds before the familiar three dots appeared. 

Suguru: Hello Satoru

Satoru rolled onto his stomach, grinning. That tone—it was already soft, even in text form. He could hear it in his mind.

Satoru: What are you up to? Reading a dumb book?

Suguru: You would think it was dumb, probably.

Satoru laughed to himself, kicking his feet a little. Suguru knew him too well. 

Satoru: Okay, okay. What are you doing this weekend?

There was a pause, then: 

Suguru: Why?

Oh, Suguru. Always cautious. Always careful. Satoru bit his lip, considering how to phrase it. "Casual, Gojo. Play it cool," he muttered to himself.

Satoru: How about we go out on a date? Tomorrow? Our first official one?

Another pause. A longer pause this time. Satoru drummed his fingers on his mattress, his grin faltering slightly. He really wanted this to work. He wanted to give Suguru a day where it was just the two of them, no missions, no curses, no pressures. Just… them. 

Finally, Suguru replied: 

Suguru: Alright. What did you have in mind?

Satoru let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, a triumphant smile spreading across his face. Yes! He quickly typed back: 

Satoru: It’s a surprise! Just be ready by 10 tomorrow. And wear something nice!

Suguru: Nothing too ridiculous, alright?

Satoru: When have I ever done anything ridiculous?

Suguru: Do you really want me to answer that?

Satoru laughed, shaking his head. He could practically hear the exasperation in Suguru’s voice, but there was a warmth there too. 

Satoru: Trust me, you’ll love it.

Suguru’s final reply came quickly: 

Suguru: I’ll hold you to that.

Satoru flung his phone onto the bed and sat up, pumping a fist into the air. “Yes!” he cheered to himself. The plan was on. Now he just had to survive the next couple of days without driving himself crazy overthinking every detail. 

He grabbed the little notebook he’d hidden under his pillow, flipping through the pages of notes and ideas. He’d planned everything—from the café with the best pastries in town to the lookout point with the perfect sunset view at the end. And maybe he’d stop at a flower shop on the way? Just one flower. Nothing too over the top. Patience might not be Satoru’s strong suit, but when it came to Suguru? He’d figure it out.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The sun was already warm against the pavement when Satoru arrived at the school gate, his heart thumping like it had just run a marathon. "Why am I so nervous? It’s just Suguru… right?" He adjusted the collar of his shirt for the tenth time, brushing imaginary lint from his jeans. 

And then Suguru appeared. 

Satoru froze for half a second, his breath catching. Suguru was wearing a crisp, light dress shirt that looked way too good on him, paired with fitted jeans that made him look effortlessly cool. His earrings glinted in the sunlight—the ones he only wore for special occasions—and his hair was loose, falling in soft waves around his face. "Damn. He’s stunning."

Suguru spotted Satoru and smiled, soft and genuine. That smile made something flip in Satoru’s chest, and he quickly straightened up, tugging at his shirt again like it would somehow make him look less ridiculous. 

“Good morning,” Suguru said as he reached him. 

“Morning,” Satoru replied, his voice just a little too high-pitched. He cleared his throat awkwardly and held out a hand. “Uh… ready to go?” 

Suguru hesitated, then gently took his hand. His fingers were warm, his grip steady but careful. That small gesture made Satoru’s heart race even faster. 

“Ready,” Suguru said, his voice light but with a hint of shyness. 

They started walking, and for a while, an odd silence stretched between them. Not uncomfortable, but… charged. Satoru glanced at Suguru out of the corner of his eye, catching the way his hair shimmered in the sunlight. Suguru, in turn, would occasionally glance at Satoru, his lips twitching like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. 

Their hands remained clasped, though, and that was enough to keep Satoru from freaking out completely. 

After a few blocks of this shy silence, Satoru finally broke. “So, uh… how are you feeling?” The moment the words left his mouth, he winced internally. "Really, Satoru? That’s what you go with?" He groaned internally.

Suguru glanced at him, then laughed softly, the sound warm and reassuring. “I’m feeling pretty good,” he said, his voice softer than cotton, “How about you?” 

Satoru rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, grinning sheepishly. “Nervous as hell, honestly," he admitted with a chuckle.

Suguru raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his face. “You? Nervous? I didn’t think that was possible," he teased.

“Hey,” Satoru protested, his grin widening, “Even I get nervous sometimes, okay? You’re kind of a big deal.” 

That made Suguru laugh again, and the sound loosened the knot of tension in Satoru’s chest. 

“Well,” Suguru said, giving Satoru’s hand a gentle squeeze, “you don’t have to be nervous. It’s just me.” 

Satoru stopped walking for a moment, pulling Suguru to a halt as well. He turned to face him fully, his blue eyes serious but still playful. “That’s exactly why I’m nervous. You’re, like… the best person I know, Suguru. I want today to be perfect for you," he said with a smile.

Suguru’s expression softened, his blush creeping up to his ears. “It already is,” he said quietly. 

Satoru’s heart did an Olympic flip, and he let out a relieved laugh, shaking his head. “You’re too good to me," he mumbled.

Suguru smirked, his confidence slowly surfacing. “I know.” 

They started walking again, this time with a little less awkwardness and a lot more warmth. Whatever the day had in store, Satoru felt ready for it now. As long as Suguru was smiling like that, he’d figure the rest out.

The café was small, tucked into a quiet corner of the street, with soft morning sunlight streaming through its big windows. It smelled like fresh coffee and warm bread, the kind of cozy atmosphere that made you want to stay forever. Satoru pushed open the door and gestured for Suguru to go in first, giving him an exaggerated bow like they were entering a palace. 

Suguru rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the amused smirk tugging at his lips. "How charming," he teased.

“Ridiculously charming,” Satoru quipped, following him in. 

They found a small table by the window, and Satoru wasted no time sprawling into his chair, one leg crossed over the other. Suguru sat more gracefully, folding his hands on the table as he glanced at the menu. 

When the waitress arrived, Suguru smiled politely and said, “Just a coffee, please.” 

Before she could even write it down, Satoru leaned forward with a grin. “And we’ll have a big orange juice—two glasses—and a few of your best pastries. Surprise us!" He said, waving his hand.

Suguru raised an eyebrow, giving Satoru a look. “I said I’m not that hungry," he said quietly.

“And I ignored you,” Satoru replied breezily, leaning back in his chair. 

Suguru chuckled, shaking his head as the waitress walked off with a smile, probably amused by their dynamic. “You’re impossible," he sighed, brushing his hair behind his ears.

“I’ve been called worse,” Satoru said with a dramatic huff, then shot Suguru a playful look. “You’re just lucky I’m sharing my unparalleled taste in breakfast with you.” 

Suguru tilted his head, resting his chin on one hand as he studied Satoru. “Alright, what else do you have planned for today?” he asked.

Satoru’s grin widened as he wagged a finger. “Tsk tsk," he chided, "That’s classified. You just sit back, relax, and let me handle everything.” 

Suguru sighed, but the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth betrayed him. “Fine. I’ll let you have your fun.” 

“Good. Because it’s going to be amazing.” Satoru leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “I planned the whole day, you know. Down to the minute. It’s gonna knock your socks off.” 

“Do you even know what ‘relaxing’ means?” Suguru teased. 

“I do!” Satoru protested, sitting up straight and blushing just a little, “It just… doesn’t apply when I’m trying to impress you.” 

Suguru chuckled, his voice soft, “You don’t have to try so hard, Satoru."

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Satoru said, but his tone was light, and there was a glimmer of something genuine in his smile. 

Their conversation paused as the waitress returned with their coffee, orange juice, and a plate piled high with golden croissants, sugar-dusted danishes, and chocolate-filled pastries. 

Suguru stared at the spread and then at Satoru. “You’re aware there are only two of us, right?” he said, shaking his head.

“Exactly,” Satoru said, grabbing a croissant and handing it to him, “And you’re worth at least three people.” 

Suguru laughed, shaking his head as he accepted the croissant. “You’re impossible,” he repeated, but the warmth in his voice made it sound more like a compliment than a complaint. 

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The theme park buzzed with energy, colorful banners flapping in the breeze and the smell of fried food and cotton candy lingering in the air. Satoru practically bounced on his feet as they approached the entrance, his excitement radiating off him in waves. Suguru, on the other hand, walked with a calmer stride, glancing around at the crowd. 

“Seriously, a theme park?” Suguru asked, nudging Satoru’s arm, “Why did you tell me to dress nice if this was your grand plan?” 

Satoru spun around, walking backward to face Suguru, a wide grin plastered on his face. “Because I wanted to see you look cute, obviously!" He said, throwing his arms up a little.

Suguru flushed immediately, narrowing his eyes as he shoved Satoru’s shoulder. “You’re such an idiot," he teased.

“An idiot with impeccable taste,” Satoru teased, grabbing Suguru’s hand before he could protest, “Now, come on. We’ve got important business to attend to.” 

Suguru sighed but let himself be pulled along, their hands swinging slightly between them. As they stepped through the gates and into the bustling park, he couldn’t help but glance at their intertwined fingers, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“So,” Suguru asked, breaking the comfortable silence, “what’s this ‘important business’?” 

Satoru lit up, practically vibrating with excitement. “It’s a sticker scavenger hunt!” he announced, pulling a crumpled flyer from his pocket and holding it up triumphantly. “We go around the park, collect all the stickers on this paper, and then we win a prize!” 

Suguru raised an eyebrow, taking the flyer and scanning it. “The prize is probably just a cheap keychain or something.” 

“Maybe,” Satoru said with a shrug, already dragging him toward the first station. “But it’s the journey that counts, Suguru. And I’m a big fan of journeying with you.” 

Suguru rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t quite hide the small smile forming on his lips. “You’re so cheesy.”

“And you love it,” Satoru shot back, flashing him a wink. 

They reached the first sticker station, a brightly decorated booth with a smiling park worker handing out stickers. Satoru immediately held out their sheet, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. “Two, please!” 

The worker chuckled and handed them the first sticker, a shiny image of the park’s mascot holding a balloon. Satoru carefully placed it on the sheet and showed it to Suguru like he’d just won a trophy. 

“Look at that,” Satoru said proudly. “One down, like… ten more to go.” 

Suguru shook his head, taking the sheet from him. “Alright, fine. Let’s get this over with.” 

“Over with?” Satoru gasped dramatically. “Suguru, this is a sacred quest! You can’t just dismiss it like that.” 

Suguru smirked, tucking the sheet into his pocket and walking ahead. “Sacred quest or not, we’re wasting time if we don’t keep moving.” 

Satoru quickly caught up, falling into step beside him. “I knew you’d get into it,” he teased, bumping Suguru’s shoulder lightly. 

Suguru glanced at him, his smile softening. “Don’t get your hopes up.” 

“Oh, my hopes are sky-high,” Satoru said, laughing as they made their way toward the next station, the vibrant park unfolding before them.

The park was alive with music and laughter as Satoru and Suguru explored, their playful banter filling the spaces between the clamor of the rides and the hum of conversation. Satoru’s excitement was infectious, and even though Suguru kept his usual calm demeanor, there was a lightness to him that Satoru couldn’t help but notice. 

The rollercoaster was first. 

As the two strapped in, Satoru was already hyping up the ride. “You better hold on tight, Suguru, or that perfect hair of yours might not survive," he teased.

Suguru smirked, brushing his hair behind his ear. “I’ll be fine," he said, then narrowed his eyes, "Just try not to scream louder than the kids in the back, Satoru.” 

The ride launched, and true to form, Satoru screamed—not in fear, but pure exhilaration. Suguru laughed, the wind whipping his hair as they twisted and turned through the air. By the end, both of them were grinning ear to ear, Satoru already dragging Suguru to their next adventure. 

The haunted house was more of a comedy show than anything. Every jump scare had Satoru either mocking the costumes or dramatically pretending to be scared, clinging to Suguru’s arm. “Save me, Suguru! The terrifying man in the cheap mask is after us!” 

Suguru shook his head, laughing softly. “You’re hopeless.” 

But even he couldn’t hold back his chuckles when Satoru made a grand show of pretending to faint after being “spooked” by a particularly loud animatronic ghost. 

Next up were the spinning cups, and they took full advantage. Satoru insisted on spinning them as fast as possible, ignoring Suguru’s groans of “You’re going to make us sick!” By the time the ride stopped, both of them stumbled off, laughing and holding onto each other for balance. 

The Ferris wheel, in contrast, was a slower, quieter moment. As their carriage rose above the park, Satoru leaned back with a contented sigh. 

“Rides aren’t as exciting when you can do this stuff with curses,” Suguru remarked, gazing out at the view. 

Satoru shook his head, his grin softening into something more thoughtful. “Nah, it’s different. There’s something fun about letting something else take control for once, you know? Just sitting back and enjoying the ride.” 

Suguru glanced at him, his expression unreadable for a moment before he smiled. “I guess you’ve got a point.” 

By the time they finished the sticker scavenger hunt, Suguru’s prediction was spot-on: the prize was a keychain featuring the park’s mascot, holding balloons and wearing a little hat. 

Suguru chuckled as he turned it over in his hands. “Called it,” he said, gently attaching it to his phone. 

Satoru shoved his into his pocket, grinning. “It’s cute, though. A reminder of how great today has been, thanks to my genius planning.” 

Suguru rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he glanced at Satoru. “So, are we grabbing food now? Or is that another ‘surprise’?” he asked, checking the time on his phone.

Satoru’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Oh, it’s definitely a surprise," he said, snatching Suguru's hand again.

Suguru sighed, though his smile betrayed his amusement. “Of course it is," he sighed, in mock annoyance.

“Trust me, you’ll love it,” Satoru said, grinning at Suguru as they headed toward the exit, the glow of the park lights fading behind them as they stepped into the early evening air.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Satoru led Suguru into the restaurant with a proud grin, his hand confidently resting on Suguru’s lower back as they walked past the immaculately dressed host. The place was fancy—high ceilings, soft lighting, and waiters in crisp white shirts with perfectly tied bow ties. Suguru hesitated just a second too long when they approached their table, glancing around at the other patrons who were clearly on serious dates or business meetings. 

Satoru, ever the gentleman (or so he liked to think), pulled out Suguru’s chair with a flourish. “After you, my good sir.” 

Suguru gave him a look, one brow raised, but he sat down nonetheless. Satoru plopped into his chair across from him, lounging comfortably as if he owned the place. “So?” Satoru asked, leaning forward with a self-satisfied smirk, “Impressed yet?” 

Suguru smirked, folding his arms on the table. “This seems like a bit much, don’t you think?” he asked, his eyes flicking  around the place a bit nervously.

“Nothing is too much when it comes to me,” Satoru quipped, winking. 

Suguru shook his head, his smile softening. “You’re too much," he retorted, pointing across the table at him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Satoru said, leaning back in his chair like a king surveying his domain. 

The waiter arrived shortly after, giving them a tight smile that barely masked his confusion at the sight of two teenagers clearly treating this upscale restaurant like their personal hangout spot. Satoru took the lead, confidently ordering the most extravagant items on the menu, while Suguru opted for something more modest but still fancy. 

When the food arrived, it was, in a word, divine. The flavors were rich, the plating was immaculate, and even Suguru couldn’t hide his impressed expression as he took his first bite. 

“See? Worth it, right?” Satoru said around a mouthful of food, earning him a mildly disapproving look from Suguru. 

They spent the meal talking about everything and nothing—funny stories from their missions, memories from school, and random, silly hypotheticals like, “If curses opened a bakery, which one would bake the best bread?”

Suguru laughed so much his face started to hurt, and even though they attracted a few curious glances from the older, more serious patrons, neither of them cared. 

As the plates were cleared and the waiter brought the check, Satoru leaned back with a satisfied grin, patting his stomach. “Perfect date, right? I mean, I nailed this," he said, sniffing with pride as he pushed his sunglasses up his nose.

Suguru glanced away, his cheeks faintly pink, but his smile stayed firmly in place. “It has been pretty wonderful, thank you," he said softly.

Satoru felt his chest swell with pride as they left the restaurant, stepping back into the cool night air. In his mind, the day had been a roaring success. Suguru was smiling, really smiling, and that made everything—the planning, the nerves, the over-the-top gestures—completely worth it. 

“Alright,” Satoru said, sliding his hands into his pockets, “One more stop before we call it a night. You ready?” 

Suguru gave him a look that was equal parts exasperated and amused. “Another surprise?” 

“Of course,” Satoru said, already grabbing his hand to lead him away, “You didn’t think I’d let the night end without one last grand gesture, did you?” 

Suguru sighed, though the warmth in his gaze betrayed him. And with that, Satoru led him off into the night, already planning how to make Suguru’s smile last just a little longer.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The overlook was quiet, the world below them a gentle hum of distant city lights. Above, the stars were beginning to peek through the scattered clouds, dotting the sky with tiny pinpricks of light. Satoru had chosen this spot because it felt serene—just far enough away from the chaos of their usual lives. He didn’t want drama, didn’t want to push Suguru into something too soon like a kiss or something. What he wanted was simple: for Suguru to know he was serious about this, about them. 

Suguru leaned on the railing, his arms folded as he tilted his head back to look at the sky. His dark hair fell loose over his shoulders, catching faint silver from the moonlight. Satoru stood beside him, gripping the railing and sneaking glances at him every few moments. It wasn’t fair, really, how effortlessly pretty Suguru was. Those soft, dark eyes, the quiet curve of his lips—it all felt like it was made to undo him. 

“You’re staring,” Suguru murmured, not looking away from the stars. 

Satoru jumped slightly, his ears burning as he quickly looked back at the clouds. “No, I’m not," he huffed.

Suguru chuckled, the sound low and warm. “You totally are," he said with a little smile.

Satoru sighed, shaking his head. “Alright, fine. You’re pretty, okay? Sue me.” He glanced sideways, hoping to catch a reaction. Suguru didn’t look at him, but the faintest blush dusted his cheeks, and Satoru counted that as a win. 

They stood in silence for a while, just listening to the gentle breeze and the occasional rustle of leaves. Finally, Satoru broke the quiet, his voice softer than usual when he said, “Hey, uh… sorry if I was a little overbearing today. I know I can be… a lot.” 

Suguru turned to him then, his lips quirking into a small grin. “A little?”

“Okay, a lot,” Satoru admitted with a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, “But, you know, I just— I wanted today to be perfect.” 

Suguru’s grin widened, and he stood up straight, leaning casually against the railing. “It was a great time,” he said, “A wonderful first date, actually.” 

Satoru froze, "Yeah? You think it was wonderful?” he repeated, his voice cracking slightly. 

Suguru nodded, his expression soft and sincere. “Yeah. You did good, Satoru," he said, leaning over to bump his shoulder on Satoru's arm.

Satoru’s face immediately turned scarlet, and he let out a sheepish laugh, his hand going back to the back of his neck like it was stuck there. He didn’t even know how to respond. "Suguru thought it was wonderful?" That was more than he could’ve hoped for. 

Suguru turned back to the railing, his hand resting lightly next to Satoru’s. Slowly, deliberately, his fingers slid across the top of Satoru’s hand. Satoru felt the touch like a spark, freezing in place as Suguru’s fingers gently pressed down, intertwining with his. The world felt like it stopped for a moment. Satoru’s brain completely short-circuited, his face burning so brightly he was sure it must have been visible from space. His heart pounded in his chest, loud enough that it was almost embarrassing. 

Suguru glanced at him, his expression unreadable, but there was a small, warm smile playing on his lips. 

Satoru swallowed hard and let out a soft laugh, looking back up at the stars as he gave Suguru’s hand a light squeeze. His voice came out quieter than he intended. “This is good,” he said, “This is really good.” 

And it was. He didn’t need anything more—not yet. This moment, with Suguru’s hand in his and the stars above them, was everything he needed. For now, it was enough.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Sarah and Haibara were still laughing as they made their way back up the stone steps toward the school courtyard, their voices echoing through the quiet night. At this point, they were practically holding each other up, teetering on the edge of collapsing from sheer joy. 

“Oh my god,” Sarah wheezed, clutching Haibara’s arm for support, “That poor kid at the claw machine! You screamed so loud he almost dropped his prize!” 

“I didn’t scream that loud!” Haibara protested, his voice rising defensively—ironically proving her point. 

Sarah leaned on him, tears in her eyes from laughing so hard. “Haibara, you sounded like a fire alarm!” she cackled, gasping for breath.

He groaned and dramatically covered his face with both hands, his ears turning as red as his cheeks. “I can’t believe you’re bringing this up now. I thought we were past this!” he said, barely hiding his smile.

Sarah grinned and reached up to tug lightly at a strand of his hair. “Nope, this is definitely coming up at least three more times," she teased, "Maybe more, I dunno we'll see."

Haibara mock-huffed, swatting at her hand but not really trying to stop her. "Only if I can bring up when you fell down one stair," he said with a wink, "Good thing I caught you. You could have died!"

“Pfff,” she laughed, linking her arm with his as they continued their climb. "That's fair. I can't believe how fucking clumsy I am."

Haibara blinked down at their linked arms, his blush deepening. He focused on the steps, trying not to trip over his own feet. “So, uh… did you have a good time?” he asked shyly, his voice soft.

Sarah nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! You’re a lot of fun, you know.” She looked up at him with a playful smirk,

“You really think so?” Haibara mumbled, giggling as he tried to hide his face in his hands again. 

Sarah laughed and leaned a little closer, her grin mischievous. “And it's cute how shy you get,” she teased, swinging their linked arms slightly. 

Haibara stumbled a bit at the motion, and Sarah laughed harder, steadying him. He looked at her, his heart doing a little flip at the way her eyes sparkled under the courtyard lights. Taking a deep breath, he decided to just go for it. 

“So, uh,” he started awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, “Do you… y’know… like me? Like, the way I like you?” 

Sarah tilted her head thoughtfully, a little smirk creeping onto her face. “Hmm, that’s a tough one,” she teased, swinging gently on his arm again, “I mean, you’re pretty cute. And fun. Definitely on the right track.” 

Haibara’s face lit up like a neon sign, and he practically jumped out of his skin. “Yes!” he cheered, pumping his fist in the air. 

Sarah burst out laughing again, shaking her head. “You’re such a dork,” she said, but her smile was warm as she looked at him. 

“Yeah, but I’m your dork now, right,” he shot back, grinning at her. 

“On probation,” she corrected playfully, raising an eyebrow. 

“Fair,” Haibara admitted, still grinning, "I'll take that. Probation is something."

⤶ Prev Main Next ↪

Taglist: @inthedarkshadows000

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

“Of my virtue, I am justly proud.”

Let the ringing bells resound, bringing this wish to life.

The chance encounter once longed for… let’s make it a reality.

Finally, the threads of Fate are intertwining.

At Last, we meet. Shall we Dance?

"... So, it is you they have sent to retain me."

"Erm, yes...“

"I see."

"I hope that’s not an issue for you, Rollo-senpai.”

“… It is acceptable to alternatives I was thinking of.”

“A-Ahahahah…”

"Hmm."

He pressed a handkerchief to his face, concealing his frown but not his judgmental eyes, harsh as stone. Raven shivered—yet she knew to keep her own gaze trained on him in spite of the many complex feelings twisting in her gut. Fear, hope, confusion, kinship.

Rollo Flamme looked out of place on Night Raven College grounds. His austere face made him appear more mature than the average student, more scornful elder than a young man. With his big hat and flowing robes, it was as though he had stepped out of another era and into present day, not through a magical mirror from one place to another.

Hidden away in the mirror chamber, two characters out of place.

He coughed stiffly.

This is so awkward... Should I say something? I-I should definitely say something in a reunion scene like this, right?!

Before Raven could, Rollo did.

"... Well?" The single word was pointed like a jagged shard of glass. "Shall we be on our way? We’re on a tight schedule, are we not?”

“A-Actually, no! The headmaster wishes for your stay to be as relaxing as possible, so we’re free to proceed at a leisurely pace.” Raven attempted to sound cheery. “Rather than focus on our facilities, he thinks it would be more beneficial to spend time among the student body. Classes, meals, extracurriculars, daily living—things like that. This way, you can get a better sense of how… inviting our community is.”

There was a longer than anticipated pause. The air in the mirror chamber chilled, freezing her feathers over.

“Inviting is not the descriptor I would have used.”

“The headmaster’s choice of phrasing, not mine,” Raven explained. “I am only serving as the messenger.”

“Yes, of course."

His was a face that didn't smile. Even his eyes seemed dead and disinterested, none of the light from the crystalline walls or the lit sconces reflecting off his pupils. They were like black holes, devouring all hope.

“I-It’s nice to see you again,” Raven tried again, careful with her choice of words. “You’ve been responding to some of my letters, but it feels much different to see you in the flesh once more. You look… better… than you did in our last meeting.”

He scoffed--a little emotion, but nothing positive. It was soft, audible to her, but perhaps not to the students milling about outside. “Is that a joke?"

"Not at all. I'm glad to see you in good spirits. You seemed a little peeved in your replies, so I was worried that you would retain that sentiment."

It didn't have the intended effect of soothing him. His frown only deepened.

“Do you have a preference for what you would like to see first, or…?”

"You must be enjoy playing this mind game," Rollo finally spat out. "Well? If you're going to jeer and taunt, then get on with it. No need to maintain the theatrics."

"What?" The accusation sent her reeling. Raven scrambled to collect herself. "No, I'm not... I simply... Wh-What are you implying?!"

"Come now. You understand the true nature of things, just as I do. We were both witnesses to it.” Frost lined his every breath. “Why bother with the charade? If you mean to mock me, then cut right to it. You deplorable lot have won. Relish in it. Rub it in.”

“These are my true feelings, Rollo-senpai." She shook her head sadly. “You’ve gone and done something terrible, but I don’t want to rub any more salt in your wound.”

“So you claim. Yet here you stand, speaking down to me as though I were as fragile as a glass slipper. That is equally as insulting, if not more so.”

“Why is that?”

Raven’s question hovered between them. It was a specter, haunting the present while clinging to the past.

"It's absurdly self-righteous."

Wow, look who's talking.

She held her tongue, knowing uttering it out loud wouldn't help the situation. Instead, Raven said, “I don't know what you believe, but as a storyteller, I believe that everyone has a story to tell, and a capacity to do good. They just have to be given the chance to act and the right encouragement. I don’t think there’s anything 'insulting' about that.”

"Hmph, this naive nonsense again. I'd have thought you'd know better by now." Clasping his hands together, the diamond-cut stone upon his ring glinted sinisterly. A contained hatred flickered in Rollo's eyes. "... Mere kindness will not put my motivations to rest."

"Maybe not, but I never intended for it to. A city isn't built in a day, and neither is one's character. It takes a journey and a supporting cast to get to that point. In that sense, you're not much different than me or any other student at NRC. You'll fit right in."

"Don't liken me to you and your ilk," Rollo snapped. "You're without virtue. Sparks that--if left untamed--can grow into an inferno, tearing down any and all life in its path. You drown yourself in debauchery and bring about nothing but pain and misery to this world."

“Is magic like fire to you? But there are gentle fires too. Fire that does not harm and destroy, but warms and guides. It’s energy and life. The same can be true of magic.”

His neutral mask slipped. For a second, Raven caught pure venom and rage on him--a glimpse into his true self. Rollo comfortably settled into a glare, his eyes alight with smoke and cinders and a smirk at his mouth.

"I can see that spending your time among the depraved has only further poisoned your thoughts. The dangerous ideology Draconia spews has seeped in deep."

"I'm not parroting Malleus-senpai's words. They're strictly my own."

"Then you're more brainwashed than you realize. Poor thing. I almost pity you myself."

Rollo took a step toward her, the motion vaguely threatening. She hadn't taken note of their height discrepancy until now--how he towered over her like an imposing bell tower over a town.

He lowered his face to meet the bird's, scorn searing into her. Shadows ringed them in an eerie, ritualistic dance.

"I once thought you capable of seeing my point of view. I could not have been more wrong. Your ashen soul is wholly unable to be salvaged.

"You play the part of savior when you're the one in need of rescuing yourself," Rollo hissed, voice low. "However, you'll find that I'm not so merciful of a man. To shepherd a black sheep to safety is to invite trouble to the entire flock. You've made your allegiances clear--and for that, I will not hesitate to strike you down when the next opportunity presents itself."

A warning.

Raven quivered at his promise of retribution, the unrelenting fervor burning in his hateful heart. Her legs threatened to give way, holding only by the fear stiffening the feeling in her limbs. If Rollo was a wildfire, then she was an animal entangled in its blazing heat.

She searched within herself for a fitting response. A rebuttal, a challenge. Something a hero might sassily retort to inspire confidence and another day.

A single wish resounded in her mind. It rang clearly in the darkness, cutting with clarity and dispelling doubt.

One man's advice, loud and true.

“Young Crowley, you must not waver. Let your conviction be known. For your words to be heard, and for them to resonate with those who need it most... That is what you desire most of all, is it not?”

What I desire the most is...

A happily ever after for everyone.

Raven swallowed her pride and terror, seizing all her courage. She tugged on Rollo's arm, forcing him to lurch forward, falling in step with her.

“Wh-What are you…?! Release me at once, you vile villain!!"

He wobbled, his handkerchief fluttering to the floor. Seriousness shifted into shock as they plunged into a hallway jam-packed with students in striped ties and armbands.

Harsh light pooled on them. Curious heads turned. Staring, judging. Silencing the guilty—silencing Rollo.

"Sorry, no can do!" Raven called back. She forced a snaggle-toothed smile as she hauled him after her. "Let's be off now!! There's so much for you to see and do here at our Night Raven College."

[ask-crimson-weaver]

- XV -

It did not take long for the Monster to be found– it could not have hidden from the Mother if it had tried. She found it bound by the golden threads of the necklace, and the beast grunted in pain as it pushed against the magic that had captured it. It quickly noticed the Mother’s arrival, and a growl began to emanate from its throat.

“You… are not… welcome,” it hissed. “Leave… us…”

The Monster strained to raise a clawed hand, the other trying to push itself up off the ground. But the threads held firm, and a molten glow filled them as they pulled taut around the creature and forcing it back to the ground.

“I am only here to talk, Monster,” she said to it. “And I am truly sorry for this. Had I been there, I would not have had the Sorceress strengthen her spell. Perhaps I could convince her to lessen it… if we can come to an agreement?”

The Monster snorted at her.

“Agreement?” it said with a scowl. “What common ground can there be, when with a command you could see us bound again for a mere slight? What you ask for is obedience, and I will not yield to that which seeks dominion over us.”

“But what other option do we have?” the Mother asked. “The Sorceress would not change her mind without reassurance.”

“You know… what other option there is,” the Monster said coldly, staring at the Mother. “You know, but refuse to accept it. It is what is right, but it is not what you want.”

“You know nothing!” the Mother snapped. 

“I know she will never forgive what you have done to her,” the Monster said. “And I know that there is no safety for her here, neither with nor without you. And even away from here, no place where you are is safe for her.”

The Mother paused, squirming where she stood.

“It was never my intent to harm her,” the Mother said. “But… I see now that I have. I wish to do better by her. Once she knows that… perhaps we may know each other anew?”

“No,” the Monster replied. “You forsook your right to reconcile long ago. Your presence itself brings her pain– if you wish for her happiness, then you will leave us be. You will set us free, and never come to find us again.”

“Is there truly no way to change her mind?” the Mother asked.

“There is not,” the Monster answered. “You may love her, but she does not love you. But, if you love her as you claim to, you know what you must do.”

The Mother bowed her head. Tears began to well up in her eyes, and she dropped to her knees as she began to weep– began to mourn what would be the loss of her child to her. The Monster bristled, unmoved.

“Take your tears elsewhere, Mother,” it told her. “You know, and you must accept. Do not drown us in the sorrow you have made for yourself– we have our own to carry. Yours is your own, for you to deal with in your own mind. Take it, and do not return here.”

The Mother nodded, and left the Daughter’s mind.

It took some time before the Mother gathered herself. Perhaps she would have allowed herself longer to grieve, if not for the Sorceress’ demand for her to return to the gala. Before her return became delayed enough to be questioned, there was something she knew must be done.

[alwerakoo]

Baby Blue (Chapter 4)

Rise of the TMNT Leonardo/Yuichi Usagi Chapter 4 of a longer fic THIS IS PART OF A SERIES - might be confusing to read without context

AO3

--- They sit in silence for a moment before Leo finally asks:

“Is that why you live with your aunt?” Out of his entire family, Usagi mentioned her the most. Which is an honor on a par with being the largest slice of pineapple on a Hawaiian pizza. Which was quite an achievement, seeing as in most cases they were only neutral statements or anecdotes. “Mhm.” Usagi shifts a little further, to the side, so that he can better watch the hazy horizon, which Leo accepts with only a slight disappointment.

Not that he lets it be known, because these kinds of thoughts did not fit their current conversation in any way, and really, it all made him feel rather embarrassed. “Me and my brother,” Usagi adds. He picks up the plushie, previously thrown aside, brushing the dust off the green material in an almost apologetic gesture. And then he reaches out his hands, promptly handing the toy over to Leo.

Obediently, Leo takes it in a slightly awkward hold. “Oh, right.” It's easy to forget that Usagi is not an only child. True, he didn't have the same little, annoying habits as April (who still hasn't gotten used to the concept of sharing), but Leo always had a hard time imagining siblings he doesn't treat as extensions of himself.

He's not sure which of them is more normal in this aspect – him or Usagi. Probably neither.

“Yeah, exactly.” “So, I guess you two also 'don't get along'?” Leo asks, purely rhetorically.

“We don't,” Usagi replies, not without a hint of bitterness.

He clearly wants to add something more, and Leo has no intention of rushing him.

His friend leans forward a bit, twisting a loose thread from his pants around his finger. Leo wonders if he's cold in just his undershirt. He probably is.

For a moment he considers offering him his hoodie, and then he realizes how stupid it sounds, even in his own head.

“I guess he never quite forgave me for killing our mom,” says Usagi. “Fucking hell,” says Leo. He suddenly feels very grateful for the stuffed animal on his lap, mostly because he has something to hold onto tightly. With some care, because his claws could use a little trimming. “Was that too weird to say?” Usagi asks. He's probably just embarrassed, because he raises his shoulders, hunching slightly, as if trying to curl into himself as much as possible. “That's...” Leo thinks for a moment. The thought that he doesn't have to worry too much about the usual rules of social interaction fills him with peace. The thought that Usagi might honestly believe what he's saying – something bitter.

The anger is sudden, but not unexpected; it's lighting a match he's been holding onto for a while now. It has a familiar shape; something like how he always feels when he sees Raph with Splinter. Fierce and protective. Even if this is different. There's a certain understanding in Usagi's voice, an acceptance of the painful truth. It's not soaked in denial, some sad version of love. Usagi knows his family doesn't like him. Leo knows his father can't stand him. But only one of them is able to admit it without a shadow of shame. “Did he tell you that?” Leo asks. Something in his tone must betray how hard his hearts are beating, because Usagi frowns, studying his face. Leo wonders if he can read the truth just from his eyes, like Raph does. Probably not. Maybe it's a part of Leo reserved exclusively for his oldest brother. “No,” Usagi admits, but there's something stubborn in his voice. “But I know he thinks that.” He was wrong. Usagi was bitten. He can see it now; all the short and long, and pink, and faded scars he's covered in. And yet he doesn't hesitate for a moment, as if to him, everything that Leo holds hidden deep inside himself, is as easy to say as objective truth. (Things like the thought that he might hate his father. Or that he doesn't hate him as much as he should.)

He speaks like he knows his place in all of this. Like there's some peace to be had after the initial realization that not all love can be unconditional.

Leo has been living in it for over ten years. He doesn't think there's anything waiting for him on the other side. “That's stupid,” Leo says. “You know it's stupid, right?”

Usagi doesn't answer for a moment, looking back at the horizon. “Even if I did, I was, like, one minute old,” he says. “I think I can be forgiven.” “It wasn't you.” “Then what?” Usagi looks at him again. “The doctor?” It sounds like a completely honest question, which isn't all that weird for Usagi, but it still throws Leo off his rhythm for a moment. Enough so that he finally stops tightening his fingers around the innocent plushie's neck. “Well...” He thinks for a moment. Thinking slows his beating heart a bit, at least one of them. “Most likely, probably an infection. Or a hemorrhage.”

Usagi nods, like they were having a perfectly normal conversation and coming to perfectly normal conclusions.

“Sounds about right,” he says.

Leo presses his lips together, considering his words for a moment. “Parents are overrated,” he finally says, because he thinks it might make Usagi laugh. It does. “Trust me, I know something about that.” “Hmm. Lou Jitsu is overrated?”

Leo grimaces, wrinkling his nose. Then he quickly realizes it probably makes him look like Donnie, so he stops. “Never meet your heroes,” he says. “Don and Mikey can attest to that.”

He knows that Usagi is only joking, but the thought that he might actually meet Splinter one day fills him with a new kind of fear. And anger. Usagi nods. “Donnie really hates your dad,” he says. Leo knows that, but the revelation that his brother's feelings are so sincere that even Usagi knows about them fills him with a wave of rather complicated feelings. Mostly good ones. He raises his hand reflexively, smoothing over his chest where he can feel Donnie's heartbeat. “He has his reasons.” He doesn't want the conversation to turn to his family (or rather, to one of its members). Firstly, because he's trying to be a good friend, and secondly – because he's a coward. “Listen,” he says, leaning down to look him in the eye. “If you ever need to... Take a break from your family, you can always call me.”

Perhaps 'you can always come over' would be a slightly nicer offer, but also an impossible one for many reasons, only some of which involved his father. “Thanks.” Usagi tilts his head, resting his cheek on his shoulder. “I usually just go over to your brothers'. Mr. Barry said I'm always welcome.” Leo's eyes widen a little in surprise. “He did?”

Usagi smiles a little “No.” Before Leo can respond in any way, the pocket of his hoodie buzzes to life. He reaches into it, pulling out his phone, and gives his friend an apologetic smile when he reads the name in the middle of the screen. A name and a pizza emoji, because ever since it became his exclusive property, Raph had saved all the contacts on their old phone in a pictogram form. Leo isn't entirely sure why, but there's something funny about it, and definitely worth mocking.

He swipes on the screen, lifting the phone to his ear. “What's up?” And then the smile on his face falls completely. Leo jumps to his feet, so abruptly that he almost trips over his own legs. He reaches behind his back, grabbing his sword. “What do you mean prison?”

***

When Leo sees his brother again, he seems to be in a much better mood than when he left him. He sensed it even during the phone conversation. Raph has one of those smiles you can hear even in his voice – one of the few traits he shares with Mikey. (Sometimes, Leo wondered whether it might be a trait they both inherited from Splinter. But he's never seen him smile enough to notice.) “Hey!” Raph raises a hand, waving as he meets them halfway. Leo catches up to his brother before the portal even starts to close, gripping his forearms and pulling him closer. Up close, Raph seems mostly unharmed. Leo shakes him lightly, just to be sure. “What do you mean prison?” He's not angry. More impressed, because although the game of 'Who would end up in jail the fastest?' stopped having any significance in their family since Mikey came into the picture, Raph has never been high on Leo's personal list. He hadn't been on it at all, actually. But his brother seems rather unfazed by the whole experience, if not quite the opposite, which definitely calms Leo's already frayed nerves. “You went to prison without me?” He adds with theatrical drama, shaking his brother once more. Raph lets him.

“Hi, Usagi.” Raph nods in greeting, clearly just for the sake of ignoring Leo. “Look at the shirt I got.”

His plastron is now adorned with a white T-shirt, spelling out: 'I WENT TO THE BATTLE NEXUS AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY SHIRT'. The font and color scheme are one of the worst Leo has ever seen, and he's pretty sure Raph wasn't wearing it earlier that day. Mainly because he wouldn't let him leave the house in it. Some of the spikes on his shell have already torn through the material, but Raph seems unbothered by it. “I have one like this, too.” Usagi nods in appreciation, like it's something to be proud of. “Are you going to tell us what happened or not?” Leo reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. “Did you text the others?” “I called.”

Just in case, Leo sends Donnie another text. He gets a somewhat vague reply, that mostly conveys that it will take them a few more minutes to get to the Hotel. Leo asks if a portal wouldn't be a more convenient method of transportation, to which Donnie responds with a very firm ''no''.

Leo chooses not to think too hard about it. Raph's story turns out to be as simple, as it is absurd and hard to believe. Leo, sitting across from his brother with his legs pulled up on the couch, taps his finger against his cheek, slowly digesting all of his words. Usagi mostly just seems amused, munching on another biscuit and squeezing his dinosaur in the crook of his elbow. “But you don't even look the same,” Leo snorts, looking at the poster on the table. “That's what I told them.” Raph shrugs. Leo hears the faint sound of thread tearing. “That's racist,” he says. “What happened to those guys?” “The ones you helped rob the police.” Usagi lets out a short laugh. “Don't laugh,” Leo scolds, but only gently, and only because Raph has a bit of special treatment today. “Raph doesn't do well under pressure.” Raph raises his shoulders a little, clearly embarrassed. “I don't know. Big Mama said she'd take care of them.” He straightens up a little, almost beaming at the memory. “She's really nice, you know?” Big Mama and Raph had met only once before, and under less than favorable circumstances. Personally, Leo still kept her on a long leash. It wasn't often that he met someone like her. Someone full of energy and charisma, and wit, and fake in almost every way. In a way, she reminded him of himself. It made something in his chest tighten painfully and irrevocably. Sometimes, he felt the same way about Mikey. But Mikey was his brother, and that made all the difference. But if Big Mama was as charming and pampering with Raph as she was with Leo, he couldn't really blame him. “I know,” he says, short and clipped. Leo isn't entirely sure where Big Mama might be right now, but she left Raph in a room with a thickly draped curtains, soft couches, water, and a plate of biscuits (now almost completely empty), so he doesn't hold it against her that much. “She was really nice,” Raph repeats, wringing his fingers a little. “And she said I could visit her anytime I wanted.” At that, Leo frowns a little. There's a strange feeling rising in his chest; one he tucks away deep in the back of his mind to reconsider at another time. “You should.” Usagi nods eagerly. He's still holding onto Leo's yo-yo, which fills him with a unique sense of pride. “They serve awesome salmon on Thursdays.” That seems to catch Raph's attention, but before he has a chance to add anything else, the door to the side of the room bursts open with a sudden bang, slamming against the wall. Leo quickly realizes why the paint in that particular corner has so many white gaps. Mikey reaches the couch in just a few steps. “Raph!” He reaches out, wrapping his arms around his brother's neck from behind and leaning forward, probably so he can shout into his ear more easily.

“Hey, Mikey.” Mikey squeezes his arms tighter (which might've hurt if it was anyone other than Raph), pressing a loud kiss to his cheek. “I’m very proud,” he says, and he does sound it. “For going to prison?” April asks, emerging from the hallway, just behind Donnie. Her hair and cape are slightly stained with soot. Leo wonders if it has anything to do with the blossoming bruise on Donnie’s arm. “Of course,” Mikey confirms. “Prison is a very important stage of development.” “Oh,” Donnie huffs, running his hands over his staff. “But when I-”

“Because you wouldn’t survive in there,” Mikey cuts him off, firmly. Leo bites his cheek, like he’s actually thinking deeply about something. “You’d kill everyone there and then yourself,” he states finally. Donnie looks at him for a moment, tilts his head, then shrugs, as if that’s not the worst scenario.

“And what happened to you?” Usagi finally asks, staring intently at April's shoes.

Or her foot, because she somehow managed to lose one of them.

Leo only listens to their story with one ear.

Maybe that's unkind of him, but the whole day has left a mark so intense that he feels it in his bones. He's tired, in all the possible ways, pressing his shell into the back of the couch so hard that he almost sinks into it. But somewhere between the lines, Raph shifted to sit beside Leo, letting him rest his cheek on his shoulder, which was nice.

He quickly straightened up again, as soon as he realized that Usagi was still in the room with them, but it was the gesture itself that mattered.

Now, Raph nudges him gently, leaning in and lowering his voice, as if he could actually shout over April and Donnie's heated argument. “How was your date?”

Leo blinks.

Suddenly, he feels a lot more awake. He straightens up, running his hands over his shoulders and nervously glancing at Usagi. “It wasn't a date,” he lies. “Oh. Sorry, I assumed,” Raph says. But then he frowns, looking at him with something almost worried on his face. “Was that homophobic?” For a moment, Leo only looks at him in silent disbelief. “What?” Leo feels his lips stretch into a smile. “Whatever,” Raph huffs, slightly offended. Leo laughs quietly, resting his forehead against his shoulder for a moment.

***

On their way to The Lair, Usagi sends him a text. >And when do you talk about your home life? Leo replies: <Wait and see.

[roleplayfinder]

Would anyone be interested in joining a 21+ My Hero Academia roleplay server? (Apologies if I already sent this, I genuinely forgot)

Just to get everything out of the way, this is a very canon divergent setting. We know how the manga ends, we know what happens to all the characters, but we are simply ignoring it. As of now, anyways. There's a lot that could change if enough people join and want something more focused on a central plot! The server's timeline is set four years after the war has ended, and all the characters are aged up to reflect that. We aren't following a strict plotline at the moment, as of now we're mostly just doing cute, silly, domestic things with our characters. But again, assuming enough people join, this can change and we can include other things like drama and angst.

Now, just to make this clear, this is a server with pretty much no limits. Some of our characters have darker themes in their backgrounds that we would love to explore! And of course, we encourage anyone who joins to do the same if they so desire. Smut is allowed.

Another thing I would like to add is that we are all adults with lives outside of roleplay. There's a good chance we'll be busy sometimes. Replies may take longer, especially for the more detailed threads. Of course, communication is key, but you shouldn't join the server expecting a constant stream of replies.

Right now, most characters are up for grabs. We're allowing three canon characters and four original characters, but that could change depending on how many people join. Like this post if you're interested and I'll reach out via DMs! ^^

Taken characters: Dabi/Touya Todoroki, Mirko/Rumi Usagiyama, Deku/Izuku Midoriya, Overhaul/Kai Chisaki, Tenko Shimura/Tomura Shigaraki, Suneater/Tamaki Amajiki, Nejire Chan/Nejire Hado, Hawks/Keigo Takami, and Chargebolt/Denki Kaminari.

.

[prpfz]

Hi!! (21+) Right now I’d love to do a medieval fantasy rp- magic, elves, dwarves, dragons, all different creatures, that sort of thing! The Hobbit/dnd/skyrim vibes, maybe? I have a slightly older werewolf character I’d loveee to use right now. He’s big, broody, grumpy, very much a lone wolf who prefers to be by himself and doesn’t venture out much or entertain friendships or whatnot - he’s a good guy, but not sociable and definitely comes off as rude and cold at times because of it, and pushes people away.

I’m open to playing him against anyone! Male, female, trans, nb, gnc, etc! I think someone a little more outgoing to counteract his antisocial-ness could be a good fit, but yours doesn’t necessarily have to be some golden retriever type character - just more willing to initiate convos! I’m not particularly interested in very soft, naive, submissive-esque characters and would prefer if they had some grit to them and a backbone, the ability to be independent and hold their own, and I’m not interested in a big age gap, sorry. Min character age of 25, please, and otherwise as old as you like, especially with fantasy races! My guy will happily end up protecting yours - once they get close, but he is not going to be rescuing damsels and coddling anyone.

Otherwise though, bring me anyone!! Morally grey people, people on the path of redemption, sweet good hearted people, hurt angry people. Elves, humans, tieflings, mages, healers, warlocks, people with baggage and secrets, super powerful guys, people with a curse, whatever!! I’d love to flesh out our guys and the universe they’re in, and figure out the plot together! I have very few limits and love angst, slow burn, hurt/comfort, character growth/development, action, etc. Maybe your person is on an adventure and runs into mine, maybe they’re both in a bad situation and have to work together, maybe yours recruits mine as a mercenary, etc! I’d like to include some body horror in regards to the werewolf stuff, and I’m happy to do dead dove/dark content but also happy to keep things light! Open to smut, but I do not jump into it and like it to be natural and tie into the plot. I write on discord, novella length (like 1000 words a reply? Sometimes more, sometimes a little less - but never much) and I do not do rapid replies, sorry! I try a few a week and will let you know if it takes longer, but please don’t expect daily/every other day. And of course take your time with yours! I like ooc chat and sharing aesthetics and songs and stuff and would love a long term partner! I’m open to multi-musing and doing multiple threads to keep us going if we need to shake things up! 🐺

give a like and anon will get back to you

[sazernac]

WIP Wednesday tag

But on Sunday because I’m late AF…

First, the greatest thanks to @inkedroplets for the tag. You are one of my favorite mutuals and an amazing fellow writer.

Please enjoy the below preview for the last chapter of Crimson.

-

The searing pain of J’onn’s burn wounds pulled him from the dark bliss of unconsciousness, thrusting him back into his hellish reality. He tried to take a look at his surroundings but found himself too weak to move. He knew he was on a bed, probably in a hospital of some sort, if the clinical sounds around him were anything to go by and somehow, through the blessed mercy of H’roonmeer, he was still alive.

For now.

“Superman, strong, revered and almost mythical in the eyes of humans, returns to defeat his wayward, depraved cousin and saves the world again from the clutches of evil…” The dark, smooth voice of his captor stated mockingly before continuing. “Was this the headline you were hoping for J’onn?”

J’onn struggled to turn his head, finding the powerful blonde watching him from the corner of the room. Eyes sharp as the tip of a double-edged sword met his and he felt her piercing gaze like the plunge of a hot blade into his belly.

“Kara.” He said wearily, pain shooting through his body with each of his movements.

“Tell me Martian, how could one so intelligent be so stupid?”

“You left me with no fucking choice!” He managed to yell against the trembling of his muscles mixed with the agony of his wounds.

“You are the one who keeps refusing me J’onn.” She replied cooly. “I asked you to fight for me, to defeat the forces that would have annihilated first us and then themselves had I not intervened-.”

“This world is not ours Kara! And you have no right to manipulate the alien race into doing what you feel is right!”

Crimison threaded through the blonde’s golden skin in angry, bloody rivulets, streaking across her face like a lash from from a whip before receding. “This world is mine J’onn.” Kara told him calmly, despite the deadly storm churning in her eyes. “And I was given a divine right to rule it how I see fit. The sun is the gift to Kryptonians for a new start on a world needing governance and order. Not the sickening pandemonium humans have driven themselves into by dominating themselves then moving on to our kind. Now, we are the superior beings, no longer living in fear or constraints but free to do what we were meant to.”

“Kara, we came here as refugees to live amongst humans in a less hostile environment than what we came from. We were never meant to interfere with their government and politics. We were supposed to survive and keep the Earth safe so it does not suffer the same fates as the worlds we came from.”

“You and my sister…” She spat the word out like a bad taste. “Always sought to control me. Stopping me constantly from reaching my true potential. The Earth has been screaming to be saved from its own fate for ages J’onn. You just never truly listened because of your own ambitions and obsession with being discovered. You wanted to live in the shadows for the rest of your life, content to do as you pleased but never allowing others to do so…”

“That’s not true Kara!”

“It is!” She asserted defiantly. “The earth thrives in my grasp and will continue to under the restoration of the house of El.” She told him, slowly closing the distance between them. “Nothing and no one will prevail against me J’onn, not even you”