#i might try guards guards next i hear a lot of people recommend that one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xjoonchildx · 4 years ago

Text

guilty | knj x reader | final chapter: is something burning?

summary: as the man at the top, kim namjoon has almost everything he wants. almost. could a familiar face from the past change his future?

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, SMUT WARNINGS APPLY in this chapter sorry i’m yelling stressed!joon, sweaty!joon, sober!joon all make an appearance

rating: 18+

word count: 7.9K

notes: okay, so i stressed a bit about this chapter. i got really in my head over it, but i hope it ends in a way that’s satisfying to all of you guys. i’ve heard from some of the most amazing readers about this story -- i appreciate you all so much and i’d love to hear from you about how you feel about the ending.

special love to the best beta hands down periodt amen @hobi-gif, the lady who inspired it all with her adorable brand of namjoon thirst @sahmfanficbts, and three people who mean the world to me point blank period @ladyartemesia @ppersonna @taetaewonderland

this fic is a continuation of the Guarded Series but can be read as a standalone piece.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | Epilogue

*************************

There’s this thing that happens when you’re getting over a cold.

Slowly -- as your breathing returns to normal -- you can taste again. Your head clears and your senses come back to life and you savor everything you eat like it’s the best thing you’ve ever had. Your appetite returns.

And all at once, you are starving.

That’s what it’s like after Namjoon touches you.

All he had to do was cup your face in one large, warm hand and it feels like your entire body has been jump-started. Like parts of you that have been dormant for years are now awake, nerve endings exposed and aching. Like all the tiny pieces of you that have been scattered and lost for so long are now found and fitting back together.

For the first time in a long time you remember what it feels like to want.

It’s not like you didn’t know you cared for Namjoon. You knew it deep down in the way you took pride in providing for his needs. You knew it in the way it made you feel to see appreciation reflected back in his dark eyes.

But you didn’t understand how much you wanted him until that night in his office.

In those few charged moments, Namjoon made you feel more desired with his gaze than other men have with their hands. You let down your guard and allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like to touch him, to be touched by him. You let yourself embrace the fantasy of being his in every way.

And then it was over.

Whatever spell he was under was broken and whatever existed in the air between you evaporated. The hunger in his eyes turned into remorse and you’d left his office on trembling legs, reeling from the whiplash of it all.

Today, you stare out at the window across from your desk, unable to suppress the hurt that grips your chest. You can barely concentrate on the numbers on the sheet in front of you, mind replaying the events in that office.

Namjoon should never have touched you.

He should never have roused the parts of you that had been long forgotten between doctors visits and pharmacy runs. He should never have made you feel things no other man ever has or probably ever will.

And he should have never let you believe, even for one second, that he could care for you the way you do for him.

He should have just left you alone.

*********************

No one ever tells you that when you devote your life to caring for someone else’s needs, yours end up falling by the wayside. That who you are ends up diminished somehow, buried underneath the weight of responsibility and worry.

Jinjoo finds you sitting in the chair next to your mother’s bed, staring at one lock of hair threaded through your fingers. You’re frowning at the split ends you’ve not had a chance to tend to, the ones you hide by keeping your hair pulled back.

She sweeps into the room, carrying a bowl of kimchi.

“It’s Saturday. The sun is shining and you should go out. Maybe to the salon, hmm?”

You glance up just as she’s placing the food on a tray at the foot of your mother’s bed. She smiles to soften the blow of her observation and you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed at her well-meaning meddling. It’s nice to be fussed over for a change.

“I can’t even remember the last time I went to the salon,” you admit, eyes locking on an unsightly chip in your nail polish. “I usually end up cutting it myself.”

“Well, that won’t do,” Jinjoo scolds, hands on hips. “Today I want you to go out and do something just for you. Go and get the works. You’re far too young to be stuck in this house all the time.”

You consider her offer for a moment. Here in the quiet of your mother’s room it’s far too easy to let your mind wander back to the encounter with Namjoon. Far too easy to dwell on the ache that surfaces every time you remember.

“Go on, Ttal.”

You turn in the direction of your mother’s voice and find her stirring from her nap. She places one soft hand over yours and squeezes. “She’s right. Go take some time away. I’ll be fine here with Jinjoo.”

“See?” Jinjoo waves a hand to shoo you out of the chair. You stand and she immediately takes your place in the seat. “Your mother agrees. Now go. And buy something pretty to wear while you’re at it.”

You look from her to your mother and see both women wearing matching expressions of encouragement.

You decide they’re right.

So you spend the rest of your day pampering yourself and shopping and definitely not thinking about Kim Namjoon.

You don’t think about him when you read the book he recommended to you once at the salon, you don’t think about him when you stop for a bite at his favorite Tteokbokki stand and you definitely don’t think about him when you buy a new sweater that makes you feel beautiful.

You definitely don’t think about him at all.

*****************************

NAMJOON

Kim Namjoon’s father was a pig.

A glutton of the worst kind, he hoarded money and guns and drugs and because no one ever tried to stop him. He used and abused everything and everyone just because he could.

Namjoon hated to watch the sadistic games his father played with people. He hated that the man seemed to direct the worst of his cruelty at the women in his life.

Namjoon’s own sister left everything behind to escape his violence and abuse and somehow his father was even more vicious with the women he bedded and discarded at random. He dangled things like money and security and love in front of them like bait, only to yank it all away on a whim.

That’s why Namjoon has worked so hard his entire life to prove to others -- to prove to himself -- that he’s better than the piece of shit who raised him.

That’s why the look on your face in his office that night cut so deep.

That look pierced straight through the lust and the scotch clouding his judgement and forced him to step back and see the situation for what it was. It made him feel sick to think he might have made you feel like his help came with conditions. That he’d done what he had expecting you to give yourself to him in return.

He couldn’t allow you to think he’d use his money to try and buy you. That’s something his father would have done.

And Kim Namjoon is not his fucking father.

So this morning he finds himself walking towards your desk, determined to make it right. You don’t register his approach as you work quietly and Namjoon has a quick moment to take you in.

There’s something different about you.

Namjoon can’t put his finger on it, but when he gets close enough for you to notice his presence and you glance up at him from under those long lashes, you look changed somehow.

Rested. Radiant.

The second you register that it’s him though, the look on your face changes. You stand up from your chair, expression shuttered, tone formal.

“Mister Kim,” you murmur. “How can I help you this morning?”

“Please sit,” Namjoon starts quietly. “I, uh --” He digs his nails into his palm, annoyed with the hesitation in his delivery. Spit it out, you moron.

“-- I owe you an apology.”

Your lips part in surprise before you close your mouth, sinking slowly back into your chair.

Namjoon rubs one hand across the back of his neck, stealing a sideways glance at Seokjin’s office door. It remains closed and he’s glad for it. The last thing he’d want is an audience for this embarrassing exchange.

“The other night I was --” he clears his throat awkwardly. Loaded. Horny. Stupid.

He eventually lands on a less damning adjective. “-- not entirely appropriate with you.”

You blink back but keep quiet so Namjoon keeps talking.

“I shouldn’t have acted that way,” he acknowledges weakly. “That’s not normally how I treat my employees. And I’m sorry.”

Spots of color appear in your cheeks.

“Well as your employee, I admit it wasn’t appropriate for me to just turn up in your office without notice, either,” you reply quietly. “I think I was just shocked by your generosity. It’s a lot of money, and I --”

“-- Don’t think anything of it,” Namjoon interjects quickly. “You’ve saved me that amount and more with your audits. It only made sense to repay you for your efforts.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, and Namjoon knows it immediately. It’s not the truth -- not by a mile -- and judging by the look that passes over your face, it’s definitely not what you wanted to hear.

“Mister Kim.”

“Yes?” Namjoon replies, only to realize that you are now looking past him and that he’s not the only one answering.

He turns slowly to find Seokjin standing behind him, wearing an expression halfway between curiosity and scrutiny. Namjoon’s nails dig back into his palms, leaving tiny indents in the skin.

“Good morning,” you continue, turning your attention fully to Seokjin. Seokjin looks between you and Namjoon before answering.

“Good morning to you, too,” he says slowly.

“If you’re ready to go over the new audits, I have more information to cover with you,” you say, pointing at the papers riddled with notes on your desk. Namjoon stands there like an idiot, watching the two of you interact like he’s not even there.

“Sure,” Seokjin agrees, eyes darting back to Namjoon. “Let’s go ahead and get into the numbers.”

“Great,” you say with a smile, standing to organize your papers into a folder.

You look back at Namjoon like he’s an afterthought and the realization stings. “If that was all you needed, I’ve got some work to handle now.”

The nails in his palm are this close to drawing blood.

He cuts his eyes at Seokjin who immediately looks away.

“Certainly,” he says under his breath. “Let me not keep you.”

You turn your back on him to head into Seokjin’s office.

***********************

Namjoon stares out at the setting sun from his office window.

He’s spent the last few days hiding out in here, avoiding everything and everyone. Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin -- his phone keeps lighting up with calls he won’t answer. His already black mood darkens every time his mind replays the seemingly endless string of disastrous exchanges with you.

He still can��t figure out how he’s managed to fuck things up so royally.

He still can’t figure out why he didn’t just tell you the truth about the money and about Jinjoo. He should have just admitted outright that for once he wanted to be the one taking care of you, not the other way around. He should have just admitted that you mean something to him.

That’s the real reason why things are so screwed up right now.

It would be so simple if this was just about sex. It would be so simple if Namjoon could just get you into bed and get you out of his system. But you’re not Mina or Yejin or any of the others.

You’re not like any woman he’s ever known.

Namjoon leans back into his chair just as his cell phone lights again and he grabs it just long enough to reject the call before tossing it back onto his desk. He rubs his fingers across his mouth and watches the sun fall behind the nearby skyscrapers.

You deserve so much more than he is capable of giving you.

You deserve happiness and security and certainty. What you don’t deserve is to be toyed with by a man who doesn’t know what his future looks like. A man who’s still so damaged by his own upbringing that he worries he’ll never be capable of being a decent husband and father.

Truthfully, Namjoon doesn’t know which scenario scares him more.

The one where he tries -- and fails -- to give you the things you need, or the one where he drifts through the rest of his life anchored to no one and nothing.

The sound of an incoming text interrupts his maudlin thoughts.

Namjoon reaches for his phone and sighs as he reads the waiting message.

reservations at doore yoo, 8 PM [ 6:32 PM ]

join me [ 6:32 PM ]

it’s been too long [ 6:33 PM ]

***********************

“Mister Kim.”

The Maitre’d at Doore Yoo bows in Namjoon’s direction, flashing a wide smile. “A pleasure to have you back.”

“Thank you Sungho,” Namjoon murmurs, scanning the crowded dining room. “Is she waiting for me?”

“She is,” Sungho confirms.

Namjoon follows him past the tables packed with patrons to the exclusive dining area hidden away in the back. This is his regular table, inside his regular private room -- but when Sungho slides the door open, Namjoon stops short and nearly tells the man he’s made a mistake.

The young woman waiting for him inside is unrecognizable.

From the back, Namjoon can see that her dark hair has been swept into a careful updo, shoulders and skin bared in a delicate spaghetti-strap top. But that can’t be right.

Because she would never --

“Jaegyueo.”

Namjoon’s sister lifts her chin and smiles as he steps around the table.

He catches himself staring, momentarily thrown by the sight in front of him. It’s the first time in his life he can recall seeing his sister wearing something that doesn’t cover the jagged scar that crosses her collarbone. The scar that she’s spent a lifetime hiding, ashamed of the way it made her look and feel. At once, the realization hits him -- the hundreds of different ways she’s changed, big and small since falling in love with Hoseok.

Every last one of them for the better.

“Amsaja, you look -- ” Namjoon pauses to brush a kiss across her cheek, “ -- wonderful.”

She flushes.

“Thank you. Now sit,” she orders kindly, reaching for her wine glass. “For a minute there I thought you might not show.”

Namjoon exhales, sinking into his seat.

“For a minute there, I almost didn’t,” he admits. “It’s been a shitty week.”

His sister says nothing, smiling like a sphinx as a server appears to offer Namjoon his own drink.

“Club soda on ice,” Namjoon orders quietly. “Thanks.”

Her poker face slips then, one eyebrow lifting in surprise at seeing him forgo his usual scotch. She sips her wine thoughtfully before speaking.

“Talk to me, Namjoon.”

“There’s little to talk about,” he deflects irritably, staring past her to the art on the walls.

“Hoseok says you’ve barely left your office. Won’t take his calls.”

Namjoon grits his teeth, hackles raising immediately.

“Tell Hoseok he should work on his pillow talk,” he says sharply, and the second the words leave his mouth he regrets them. Namjoon sees the change in his sister’s demeanor, watches her eyes sharpen from across the table.

“Forgive me,” he apologizes quickly. “That was uncalled for. I’m fucking things up left and right these days, it seems.”

His sister stares back at him. Namjoon knows that face, knows she’s now opted to abandon her charm offensive for a more direct approach. He knows it’s exactly what he deserves for being an asshole.

“That’s my understanding, yes,” she says tightly. “As smart as you are, you seem to be doing some very stupid shit lately.”

Namjoon scratches the back of his neck, cheeks warming at her rebuke.

“You’re right,” he admits. “But I’m going to need you to be more specific about which stupid shit you want to talk about tonight.”

“Don’t be dense,” his sister scolds. “Clearly, you’re tied up in knots over your assistant. Oh, I’m sorry -- I mean former assistant.”

Namjoon’s defeated sigh hangs in the air for a moment.

“Is that what Hoseok says?”

“That’s what everyone says,” his sister fires back. “You think you’re such a mystery but I assure you, you’re actually quite transparent. Sending her away to work for Seokjin? Hiring a private nurse? Good grief, Namjoon. Real subtle.”

Shit, he wishes he had a scotch right now.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to explain to me why you’re playing this stupid game of push and pull with this woman. If you care about her, do something about it instead of lashing out at everyone around you because you’re angry with yourself.”

“She’s not --” Namjoon falters as he searches for a proper explanation, “-- she has a complicated life right now. I’m just trying to help her the only way I know how.”

His sister leans back in her chair, wine glass tipped in his direction.

“You know what I think? I think you like her too much and I think that’s freaking you out. And I think you’re going to miss out on a good thing because you won’t get your head out of your ass.”

Namjoon stares back at his sister.

“I think you might be right,” he concedes, after a heavy silence.

“Namjoon, I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” his sister says quietly. “Whatever you’re feeling, she’s feeling it too.”

He knows that’s true. It’s been damned near impossible not to feel the charged air between you, impossible not to share passing looks and fleeting touches while working in such close quarters. When he looks at you he knows instinctively that you feel the same pull. It’s only made his precarious position that much harder.

“I just --” he shakes his head as he tries to justify his inaction, “-- I have no idea what I’m offering her. I don’t know what I’m capable of giving her. Beyond money, of course.”

His sister laughs.

Namjoon waits for her to collect herself, ears warm with embarrassment. He resists the childish impulse to kick her under the table.

“Is that funny to you?”

“Hilarious, actually,” she teases. “You have no idea what you have to offer her? You’re one of the most powerful men in this city, Namjoon. There’s nothing you couldn’t offer her.”

The server arrives with dumplings and sets them in the middle of the table, and his sister reaches for one.

“If she’s this important to you, I know there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for her,” she continues. “Stop overthinking this. You’re a good man. Everything else is icing on the cake.”

“I haven’t acted like a good man lately,” he confesses, shaking his head. “She came to my office a few nights ago and I acted like a drunk, groping asshole. Like father, like son.”

His sister sets her wine glass down, hard.

“You’re nothing like our father, Namjoon,” she says, eyes flashing with anger. “Quit telling yourself you don’t deserve happiness out of some misguided, misplaced guilt. And whatever happened in that office can be fixed. If you want to fix it.”

Namjoon watches the bubbles in his club soda surface and break. He does want to fix it. He wants to figure out a way to stop fucking everything up where you’re concerned.

“I do,” he admits.

“Have you apologized?”

“Awkwardly. Not sure that it helped my case.”

“Then I think you need to offer her the one thing that’s more valuable than your money, Jaegyueo.”

Namjoon lifts an eyebrow at his sister.

“What’s that?”

She plucks a dumpling off the plate with her chopsticks and points it at him.

“Give her your time.”

****************************

YOU

It’s freezing tonight.

You wrap your arms around yourself and brace against the biting wind as you approach your family home. You’re dead on your feet, worn after a long day at the office -- and for the thousandth time since her arrival you silently give thanks for Jinjoo.

Knowing your mother is taken care of while you’re gone and coming back to a clean home and warm meals has eased your burdens immeasurably.

Of course, it’s all really thanks to Kim Namjoon -- but that’s something you’re not allowing your mind to dwell on right now. You’ve worked hard over the past few days to push any thought of that man back to the furthest recesses of your mind.

You’re peeling out of your scarf and coat in the foyer when a laugh echoes down the long hallway. It’s the sound of your mother’s laugh -- clear in a way you haven’t heard in a very long time -- and it’s definitely not coming from her room.

“Eomma?” you call out as you walk towards the sound. A peal of Jinjoo’s laughter rings out next and you smile, following it.

You round the corner to the living room and your mouth drops open when you spot your mother, fully dressed for the first time in ages, sitting on the formal couch. Jinjoo is seated next to her, both women smiling and laughing at --

Oh God.

Namjoon stands from his seat on the opposite couch when your eyes meet his. His cheeks are pinked from the cold, hair tousled from the wind, and he looks so handsome that for a moment you forget how to think.

“Welcome home,” he says, dimples emerging from his slow, careful smile.

You stare back at him, rooted to the spot. Your face warms when you realize that every single eye in the room is trained on you, awaiting your next move.

“Do you -- ” Namjoon clears his throat, “ -- do you think I could have a minute of your time?”

“What are you doing here?” you say, blowing right past his question.

Jinjoo makes a disapproving sound under her breath.

“Ttal,” your mother interjects with a tone that borders very close to warning, “Mister Kim came by to talk to you. He kept the two of us company until you came home.”

You turn to look at her and -- is she wearing lipstick?

“Yes,” Namjoon adds quickly, turning the warmth of his smile back to your mother and Jinjoo. “And they’ve been wonderful company. Thank you, ladies.”

The two of them titter like schoolgirls enjoying the attention of the most popular boy in school while you just stare.

And stare.

“Ttal?”

Your mother’s voice breaks through your mental fog. You look back at her and Jinjoo and both women appear to be holding their breath, awaiting your response. Jinjoo’s eyes are pleading when they meet yours, silently begging you to play nice.

You turn back to Namjoon slowly.

“One minute.”

“Great,” he breathes, shoving a hand through his hair.

“Not here.”

The words come out more sharply than you’d intended and your mother’s eyes go wide. Jinjoo sighs.

“What I mean to say,” you start again, delivery clumsy, “Is that we should probably step outside.”

“Of course,” Namjoon agrees.

You will your leaden legs and feet to cooperate as you turn to leave, grabbing your coat from the foyer closet on the way. You slip it on and lead Namjoon out to the front porch, immediately wincing at the bitter cold that greets you.

The door clicks shut and you burrow deep into your coat, turning to face him. You force yourself to ignore the warmth that blossoms in your chest when his mouth curves into a soft smile.

“Your mother seems to be doing well tonight,” Namjoon notes. “I’m glad to see it.”

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that he can just show up here on a whim -- looking like that, talking like that.

Charming everyone in his path.

“Namjoon, I’m going to ask again. What are you doing here?”

The smile on his face falls and he looks skyward, exhaling a puff of steam into the cold night air.

”I’m here to come clean,” he confesses quietly. “Thought I might do this new thing where I try not to act like an idiot around you.”

“Oh,” you breathe, stomach fluttering wildly in response.

A lock of his hair falls over his eye when he looks back down and you smother the urge to brush it back, hands balling into fists in your pockets.

“Thought I might do this new thing where I just tell you the truth.”

You’ve tried so hard these past few days to be angry with him, to use your hurt feelings like a wall around your heart. But you can’t anymore. He looks down at you with those huge, dark eyes and your grudge falls apart.

“I care about you,” he admits. “I’ve been stumbling over my own feet for weeks because I didn’t know how to approach you about it. And then that night in the office,” he trails off, looking pained. “That is not how I intended to treat you.”

A gust of wind blows through and you curl into yourself, teeth chattering. Namjoon pulls off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders.

“Please don’t,” you protest weakly. “You’ll freeze.”

“I won’t,” he promises, stepping closer.

You wrap the wool tight around your body, enjoying the way his lingering heat and scent wrap around you at the same time. Your heart is beating so wildly you can hear your pulse in your ears.

“Namjoon,” you whisper. “You must know I feel the same way.”

He reaches one hand up to stroke his fingers across your cheek.

“I was really hoping you’d say that.”

He’s so close now that all it would take is the slightest tip of your chin, the most incremental change in angle to press your mouth to his. But he doesn’t close the small distance between you. His gaze shifts to the street and you follow it, only now realizing a black sedan has been idling outside your house this entire time.

Your cheeks flame hot at the thought of his driver witnessing this exchange.

“I want a chance to do this the right way,” he murmurs. “Can I have it?”

You nod, waiting for your mouth to catch up to your brain. “Of course.”

He smiles wide then, the kind of smile you haven’t seen on him in a long time and once again you’re struck by how handsome he is. He narrows his eyes playfully when he realizes you are staring.

“Let’s get you inside before you get sick.”

You nod, pulling off his coat and watching as he shrugs back into it. He grabs for your hand, fingers brushing against yours just as you reach for the door.

“Good night, Namjoon,” you say softly.

He squeezes your cold fingers with his.

“Good night.”

***************************

Namjoon sends his driver for you.

You shift uncomfortably in the backseat of the sleek car, avoiding Chun’s gaze in the reflection of the rearview mirror. Up until now, you knew him only as the voice on the other end of the line when you’d arranged for Namjoon’s rides.

Now you’re matching a face with a voice -- and so is he.

You try not to dwell on how this must look after the scene outside your home just a few nights ago. Especially now that he’s been tasked with taking you to Namjoon’s penthouse.

It’s embarrassing, certainly -- but even this pales in comparison to what you’d had to endure before leaving the house.

When your mother had asked you to come see her and casually inquired about the last time you’d shaved your legs. When Jinjoo had made a point of letting you know that she was planning on staying all night long just as you were walking out the door.

That was definitely the most embarrassing part.

That’s why you feel a knot in your stomach as the security guard in Namjoon’s building escorts you personally up to the very top floor -- the one accessible only by keycard. That’s why you find yourself holding your breath right until the very moment Namjoon opens the door.

Then you let go of that breath.

“Thank you, Jaejin,” he greets, bowing in the man’s direction. He turns his attention to you and the knot in your stomach explodes into butterflies.

“Thanks for coming,” he says with a careful smile.

As if you had any choice in the matter. You kick your brain into gear and remind yourself to stop staring and smile back as the door shuts behind you.

He takes your coat and you take him in.

It’s the most casual you’ve ever seen him look, barefoot in jeans and a button-down shirt rolled to the elbows. He looks fresh from a shower, skin glistening and golden. The scent of him --- clean and male and intoxicating -- wafts over you.

Followed by a far less enticing one.

“Namjoon,” your nose wrinkles at the acrid smell, “Is something burning?”

“Something was burning,” he admits sheepishly. “But it’s not anymore. And you -- “ he pauses to let his gaze rake over you, “ -- you look incredible.”

Heat creeps up your neck and into your face, making you feel just a touch too warm in your brand new sweater.

“Thank you,” you reply, accepting his compliment with a shy smile. “So do you.”

He looks at you for a long moment, and you clear your throat, feeling uncomfortable with the admiration in his eyes.

“Can I offer you a glass of wine?”

“Yes, please,” you breathe the words through a nervous laugh. “That sounds great, actually.” You hope it’s not obvious that you’re jumping at the chance to take the edge off of your jitters.

Namjoon leaves you standing in his grand living room as he heads to the kitchen to pour the wine. You’ve always known he was a wealthy man -- but knowing that in the abstract and seeing it firsthand are two different things entirely. You take in the massive wall-to-wall windows and gleaming marble floors and custom-made art pieces with silent awe.

Namjoon interrupts your gawking when he returns with your wine.

“So about dinner,” he starts with a chuckle. “It’s on the way. I attempted to cook something, but as you already know that didn’t quite work out. Not surprising, seeing as I’ve never cooked in this kitchen before.”

Your brows shoot up in surprise. “Never?”

“Never,” he says with a smile. “I’ve never brought anyone to this apartment, either.”

His smile vanishes then, a more serious look taking its place. You swallow thickly as you let the implication of that statement wash over you.

“No one?”

“No one,” he confirms quietly.

Your lips part with surprise and Namjoon looks away, like he’s admitted too much -- and you stand there spinning your wheels, searching for something to say.

The sound of the door chime is a well-timed and welcome interruption.

Namjoon heads to the door to accept the food and you realize the same security guard who escorted you up here is making the delivery. It makes sense, of course, that only a trusted few could get this close to Namjoon’s private space.

“Are you expecting more people?” you tease with a smile when the guard wheels in a cart weighted down with enough food to feed an army.

Relief washes over you when Namjoon smiles back. The strange moment that passed between you before is forgotten.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got one of everything.”

Pleasant smells emanating from the carefully-packed containers fill the apartment, pushing away the burnt one still lingering from the food that’s been relegated to the trash.

“Just so you know,” you laugh, “I like all of it.”

****************************

The centerpiece of Namjoon’s outrageously opulent great room is the fireplace.

Your fingers wrap tight around the stem of your wine glass as you stare into the flames and contemplate how this night will end.

You know how you want it to end.

You know the dozens of debauched fantasies you’ve entertained about Namjoon -- the myriad ways he’s had you in your mind. But there’s no way for you to know what his intentions are, how he expects this night to end.

That’s why you’re strung tight as a bow as you hear him clearing plates and cleaning up in the kitchen. The sounds eventually slow and then stop. And you wait.

You don’t hear him approach.

You come out of your thoughts and look away from the flames and he’s just there, standing in front of the couch wearing an expression you can’t read. The wine starts to wobble inside your glass, set in motion by your unsteady hands.

“Here,” he says quietly, reaching for it. “Let me.”

He takes the glass and places it on the coffee table, sinking into the space next to you.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”

He leans in and reaches out to thread his hands into your hair.

“Namjoon,” you whisper weakly, pulse leaping in response.

His eyes seem to darken at the sound of his name. His fingers slip out of your hair and under your jaw, tipping your chin up and compelling you to meet his gaze.

“I told you I was going to do this the right way,” he murmurs, “And I meant it. After that night in my office, I promised myself I was never going to put you in that position again.”

Your tongue slips out to wet your lips involuntarily, as if the action could take the place of the words you want so badly to say.

But Namjoon makes no move, fingers firm under your jaw.

“Tell me what you want,” he coaxes gently. “If you want this -- if you want me, tell me.”

“Kiss me.”

The words come out in a rush, laced with such desperation they sound like a plea, not an order. A smile tugs the corner of Namjoon’s mouth and he nods.

Carefully, deliberately, he sinks his mouth onto yours.

You sigh against the press of his lips as the pads of his fingers stroke the side of your face. For a moment you can’t think; can’t process a thing beyond the spice on his tongue from the Buldak or how impossibly soft his lips feel against yours.

He kisses you until you can’t breathe -- and just a moment beyond that -- until you are forced to pull away, chest heaving.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he admits, panting.

“I’ve been wanting you to do that since we were kids,” you confess, emboldened.

He leans close again, eyes half-lidded, lips grazing yours.

“Well, we’re not kids anymore.”

*********************

NAMJOON

Namjoon has to force himself not to totally fucking devour you.

You are finally in his hands and the urge to unleash months of wait and want on you is so strong he has to take a physical step back.

You look up at him from where you sit on his bed -- hair mussed from his fingers, lips swollen from his kisses -- and he hesitates, unsure of his next move.

“If you’re thinking you don’t want to -- “ you start.

Namjoon cuts you off with a strangled laugh.

“Trust me, that’s not what I’m thinking,” he vows, shoving a hand through his hair. “It’s like I’ve wanted you so bad for so long I don’t even know where to start.”

Your eyes soften as you gaze at him.

Namjoon holds his breath as he watches you slip out of your sweater and then out of your jeans. You lie back against his sheets, eyes holding steady contact with his.

“Start anywhere,” you breathe quietly. “Start everywhere. Just start. Please.”

Fuck, you are going to be his undoing.

It takes him an irritatingly long time to work the buttons of his shirt open on account of his thick, clumsy fingers. He finally manages to get out of it and his jeans follow right behind.

“You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” you murmur as he slides into the bed next to you. His fingers rake over the soft skin of your stomach and you jerk under his fingertips, body reacting immediately to his touch. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”

Namjoon smiles when you use his own words against him.

He dips his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply -- savoring the soft, sweet smell of your skin. He mouths at your pulse point, feeling it race in response when his fingers trail lower to tease the delicate band of your panties.

“I figured out where I want to start,” he murmurs, sucking gently at the hollow of your collarbone.

He feels your deep intake of breath when he slips one hand into the satin, grazing against your mound. He shifts lower, allowing one finger to dip into your center, groaning at the wetness he finds waiting for him there.

“So responsive, Jagiya,” he praises softly. “So beautiful.”

You make a needy sound, hips lifting off the bed as you chase the pressure of his fingers. He turns to capture your lips again with his own, simultaneously working two fingers into the tight space between your thighs.

“Namjoon,” you sigh brokenly, “F-feels so good.”

“I can do better,” he promises. “Turn over for me.”

He waits for you to comply, body shifting in the bed. Once you are face down, he climbs over you, dipping his mouth to the shell of your ear, biting gently on the soft skin. You shiver underneath him, moaning softly.

Slowly, he kisses a line down the back of your neck, hands stopping just long enough to undo the clasp to your bra. He slips it off of you, reaching under you to tease at your nipples with his fingertips. He chuckles low with satisfaction when you twitch under his fingertips.

He continues his descent, dropping kisses along the soft line of your back. His hands reach your panties and he pulls them off, mouth sucking gently at the base of your spine.

“Namjoon,” you gasp, the sound of your plea is muffled as you press your face into the sheets. “Touch me.”

He sinks one long finger into you then, savoring the tight pull of your heat as his tongue flicks out to taste you. Your hips jerk off the bed and he uses both strong hands to urge your legs further apart.

“Relax for me,” he soothes, mouth closing over your wet center.

He pushes a second finger into you and you shudder at the fullness, back arching. The movement angles your cunt even closer and Namjoon seizes the opportunity, tongue firm as he swipes it against you.

He can tell how badly you want this. He can feel it in the way your thighs tremble while he’s working you with his fingers and tongue. He can hear it in the way you whimper when he nips gently at you with his teeth.

“Namjoon,” the tilt to your voice makes it sound like you are on the verge of tears. “Please -- I c-can’t -- ” Your thought evaporates into thin air when he groans directly into your center, curling his fingers deep against the spot inside of you that draws a sharp gasp.

“Yes, you can,” he murmurs his encouragement as you buck against his grip. “Come for me, Jagiya.”

He looks up just long enough to see your fingers twisted into the sheets, face buried deep into the pillow as you fall apart in his hands. You make the prettiest sounds as you succumb. Somewhere in the midst of your frantic whispering he hears his name and the sound goes straight to his cock, making the ache there almost impossible to ignore.

He ignores it anyway -- pushing the feeling aside to ride out the tremors with you, relishing the taste of your release on his tongue. He praises you, savors you, keeps you anchored to his mouth until your hips drop flush to the bed with exhaustion.

Then he kisses his way back up the line of your spine, dropping down at your side. You look so deliciously sated and flushed when you turn over that Namjoon can’t help the slow smile that comes over him.

You kiss it right off.

You fit your body against his -- slick skin against slick skin -- and kiss Namjoon so hard it takes him by surprise. Your hands dive into his hair, mouth desperate against his.

Namjoon chuckles under his breath at your newfound boldness, fingers reaching to tease at one pebbled nipple. Your body jolts in response and you answer with a move of your own, one hand sliding across the hard plane of his stomach and into his boxers.

Up until this very moment, he’s been able to ignore the insistent throbbing between his own legs. But the moment your fingers wrap around him -- the moment you start to pump your hand gently over him -- it becomes his only thought.

“Shit,” he groans, breaking the kiss to inhale deeply, “God, that feels good.”

You pull away to maneuver your body over his.

Namjoon watches through hooded eyes as you pull his boxers down his legs and then turn your attention to his straining cock. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth to contain the noise he makes when your mouth descends onto him.

The moments that follow are a test of the last shreds of Namjoon’s self-control.

The wet warmth of your mouth surrounds him, tongue teasing at the sensitive places that make his hips jerk and his mouth drop open in surrender. Your grip around his cock stays firm, mouth soft in contrast -- both sensations almost too much to bear at once.

He slips a hand in your hair to push back the strands that have fallen into your face and you release him with a pop, lips wet and swollen, eyes glassy and wide.

He nearly comes right then and there.

“No more,” he croaks, voice hoarse with arousal. “That’s all I can take.”

The smile you return is nothing short of victorious. Namjoon rolls you onto your back in one fluid motion, more than ready to retake his position of control. Your eyes are sparkling with laughter and he grins back.

“You like seeing me at your mercy, huh?” he teases, dropping kisses into the crook of your neck.

“I do,” you admit, shuddering when he slips one hand back down to the apex of your thighs. “It’s nice to be the one in charge for a change.”

Namjoon kisses you slowly then, taking himself in hand to slide the head of his stiff cock against the wetness spilling from your entrance. He pulls up on his arms and looks down at you just to appreciate the way you look right now, hair splayed across his pillow and skin luminous against his sheets.

“You’ve always been in charge, Jagiya,” he breathes, enjoying the way your cheeks pink in response. “Just like you’re in charge right now. So tell me what you want.”

The humor disappears from your eyes then, replaced by something heady and dark.

Namjoon sucks in a breath when your hand wraps back around his cock, guiding him back to your entrance. He throbs with need under your fingertips, muscles locked tight with anticipation.

“This -- ” you murmur, tilting your hips up to take him in, “ -- is what I want.”

Namjoon sinks down carefully then, slowly -- choking back a moan at the unbearably tight grip of your walls. You gasp, nails digging into his back as he strokes to the hilt.

“This is what you want?” he goads, feeling powerful now, drunk on the sight of you writhing beneath him. He pulls back and surges forward again, drawing a desperate moan from you. “Like this?”

You wrap your legs around him, hands sliding down the slick skin of his back until your fingers are gripping his ass, urging him to move faster.

“Yes,” you manage on a shaky breath. “Like that. Over and over and over.”

Namjoon buries his smile against your breasts, tonguing at your nipples as his hips piston against you. He nips at one with his teeth and you whine, back arching off the bed.

“You’re made for me,” he groans, panting his praise in between deep strokes, “So tight and wet I can’t think.”

You hum your contentment into his mouth when you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him close for a kiss. He slips one hand under your ass, dragging you deeper into his heavy strokes and you cry out.

He’s always hated the echo in this place. But hearing the sound of your voice calling his name echoing off the walls is an entirely different story. It lights a fire inside of him -- making him move faster, harder -- desperate to hear it again.

“Namjoon -- “ your hands claw at his back as you cling to him. “ -- I think, I think I’m going -- “

“You will,” he rasps, when you lose all hope of finishing that thought.

He sinks his thumb into his mouth before dragging it down to rub slow circles across your aching clit and you clamp down around him in response. He chokes on his own moan, summoning just enough control to keep himself from exploding inside of you.

But then you start to unravel.

In those final moments, you feel hotter and wetter -- begging brokenly in his ear for some kind of relief. Namjoon holds off until the tight grip of your cunt starts to pulse around him and then he gives in. He comes so hard his vision darkens before it comes back.

Then he collapses on top of you, panting and wrecked.

You press a kiss into his neck and rake your nails gently up and down his back.

**********************

Namjoon wakes up alone.

He should be used to the feeling by now, but after last night -- after you -- he can’t help but feel disappointed.

He shoves a hand through his hair, slips into a pair of lounge pants and heads to the kitchen in search of coffee.

Then he stops in his tracks.

You are standing in front of the massive window in his living room, wearing nothing but one of his old t-shirts, holding a mug of coffee in one hand. You sip it thoughtfully and look out over the city, seemingly unaware of his presence.

So Namjoon just stands there for a while, admiring your long legs and soft skin and the dark hair that spills down your back. Admiring the way you make this place bearable just by existing in it.

“Thought you left me,” he says quietly, and you startle out of your reverie at the sound of his voice.

“I did leave you,” you feign a serious expression, nodding at your mug. “For this. Thought you’d understand.”

“That I do,” he laughs, padding across the room to join you at the window.

He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear and you smile up at him.

“What are you thinking about this morning?” Namjoon presses quietly. “What’s on your mind?”

You sip your coffee and look back out the window before answering.

“I was just thinking about the day I came to ask for you a job,” you confess. “How afraid and alone I felt back then.”

Namjoon can still remember how he felt seeing you walk into his office after all those years. It certainly wasn’t afraid or alone and his chest squeezes at your admission.

“And now?”

“Now I feel …” you trail off as you turn back to look up at him. “... like everything’s going to be okay.”

He stares back at you, suddenly overwhelmed by how good this feels.

By how good it feels to be needed by you.

By how you in his shirt, in his apartment, in his life, makes total sense.

By how it feels like you belong here.

With him.

“You’re right, Jagiya. Everything is going to be okay,” Namjoon vows, pulling you into his chest and pressing a kiss into your hair. “Because I’m going to make sure of it.”

**************************

GLOSSARY:

Gajog: Family

Eomma: Mother

Ttal: Daughter

Amsaja: Lioness

Jaegyueo: Jaguar

TAG LIST:

@prettyguardiansailormin @barbikatherine @55west81st @laabellaavitaa21 @codeinebelle @jalexad @trynavibewhileicry @poohsaidhi @eltrain80 @bluewhale52 @sahmfanficbts @midnighttifa @krystle1990 @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag @hauntedlilies @kjooniesbabygirl @unicorn5090 @parkjimin-persona @kosicastairs @julia-pacheco-blog @veryuniquenamegoeshere @katbonv @sunkissed725 @yourdaydreamerfan

#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #bts mafia #namjoon mafia #ficswithluv #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #thebtswritersclub #btscreatorscorner #btswriterscollective

1K notes · View notes

maggyoutthere · 4 years ago

Text

This "Everywhere At The End Of Time" thing has been showing up on my recommendations list on youtube. What even is this thing-

I mean it sounds neat. I'm like half an hour in and I like it :/ it's so nostalgic with the static and record scratches. I'm a sucker for ambient music and these sound neat

Edit:

Reached Stage 2

What is happening why is this triggering something in me. Like I can clearly tell something's wrong. You can still hear the music but the static and record scratches are louder.

I'm kinda scared though. As much as I love listening to music I can tell when something is just more than your typical summer hit or even mental health PSA. What is this-

Edit 2

K so apparently this is an album representing various stages of dementia. That's a tricky thing to do but I have faith in music. It's a great way to express stuff so I'm very curious to what this is gonna turn out like.

Edit 3

Idk if I like where this is going.

"I still feel as though I am me" broke me a little for some reason. Idk why but it just stood out differently to me. I am very very hesitant to jump some tracks to get to hear the other stages still today. Most of these tracks transmit the same idea but I didn't want to leave out anything.

Also no I hate rb stuff to make those threads. Have the consecutive edits of this thing.

Edit 4

STAGE 3 YOU CAN'T JUST CUT OFF LIKE THAT WHAT THE HELL-

Little heart attack I just had aside, I'm liking it so far. It's starting to get very uneasy but I think that's the point of it. Goodness gracious Stage 3 scared the absolute crap out of me. It cut just like that. So abruptly and caught me off guard. Not even a fade out, damn.

Edit 5

I had to skip some tracks from the second half of Stage 3 and

oh no

Edit 6

Reached Stage 4

I am having some very visceral reactions to this. It is incredibly unnerving but I want to keep listening to it so much. I love how it’s not even music anymore, it’s just... noise. Lots of different noises all crumbled up together, unified by some vely loud static.

Might have to skip some bits here because all Stage 4 songs are 30 min long each.

Edit 7

MOMS COME PICK ME UP OH FUCK OH GOD NO NO NO NO

I HATE IT HERE BUT I LOVE IT BUT AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

It’s so hard to put down what this is doing. I’m not even sorry for rambling just take this post for what it is idfk if people are even reading this but holy fuck.

The 30 minute ones are killing me from the inside out. I’m very sensitive to audio and sounds (probably because of autism) and this is just pulling all the levers in my brain. It’s so- i have no idea what to call it. Sensory triggering?? I guess???

Edit 8

Stage 5.

Oh... god.

Edit 9

Reached Stage 6

This has no description, both in the video and in my head. The sheer nothingness something so loud can transmit; the void where something should be but you can't remember what. Blessed were the minutes when I was still listening to the first track; there was music at least. Now there's just this emptiness, this absolutely deafening silence.

The worst is that you know exactly what's going on.

Edit 10

Listening to the last track: Stage 6 - Place in the World fades away

Everywhere At The End Of Time is a series exploring dementia, its advancement and its totality.

I cannot put to words what an absolute masterpiece this is. To tackle such a serious mental illness like this one is already an incredibly hard thing to do; to make art out of it is risky, to make it work is nothing short of a miracle.

The Caretaker (pseudonym of the composer) is an absolute master of his craft. To use something so carefully constructed as music and sound to make sense of something that makes someone not make sense is a challenge to say the least. How do you even go about it? In music there are bound to be rhythms and leitmotifs and patterns: there is bound to be organization.

This is where EATEOT absolutely excels in. I don't know if this could be called of music but I'll surely call it of art; the genius of these tracks are in their editing rather than in their composition. The first 2 stages are pretty much just songs with static noises and record scratches layered on top. It gets the message across: there is still memory, it's just blurry, washed out. It's there but it's hard to see.

From then on out, everything changes. Stage 3 keeps the background noise going, now repeating certain parts of the songs or even reverberating them. The memories themselves are starting to change, not just getting difficult to access. Stage 4 sees the absolute fear and horror of realizing such thing is happening. The grasping at anything in pure terror of forgetting everything. There is no such thing as music now. It's unnerving, it's uneasing, and rightfully so. This does not sugarcoat things and I personally like that.

Stage 5 hits us with a certain calmness after the storm. Things aren't better of course, they're just quieter. Memories are starting to dissapear completely and now there is mostly only the background noises.

Then comes Stage 6. It's desolated, it's deserted, it's nothing. It's gut wrenching. I'd like to touch on the last song because I particularly liked this one. "Place in the World fades away" is, in my opinion, divided into 2 parts. In the 1st half you have static and noise. There is nothing in there. The occasional crescendo almost scares you because of how hollow the mind seems to be at this point, but it leads nowhere. Then there's the 2nd half. You start to hear music. Actual music this time. A choir of voices, still echoing from somewhere else remind you of how it first started: with the music. It puts things into perspective and signals you towards the first of this 6-part series, how far we've come. Then, as if telling what must be told, the music fades away, leaving you with a whole minute of absolute silence. No static, no record scratches, literally a whole minute of dead silence.

I found myself continuously going back to this tumblr post and to the comment section of the video; I didn't want to feel like I was experiencing this alone, and I was glad to see people in the comment section helping eachother out, talking and venting, so that was heartwarming.

I know I'm not usually very serious about things but I wanted to try and do it for this absolute magnum opus. I like to critique stuff as much as the next guy, but to be able to analyze something like this is unique. If you want something to challenge you emotionally, something to make you think and reflect on things, this is an absolute must.

Tl;dr: Everywhere At The End Of Time is a haunting representation of dementia, both in its advancement and in its totality. It's really profound and definitely worth a try if you have some free hours.

#everywhere at the end of time #the caretaker #eateot #music #soundart #art #analysis #reaction #maggy moment #tw mental instability #tw mental health #tw mental disorders #tw dementia #tw memory loss #tw sensory overload

180 notes · View notes

bookishofalder · 3 years ago

Text

Night Changes [Nine]

Summary: Will Poe and the reader be reunited?

Warnings: Angst, character deaths, language, smut. TW-pregnancy, birth, infant, breastfeeding. WC—+10k

A/N-At the end.

“Rey,” At the sound of her name, Rey paused and glanced around to see Leia standing next to the Falcon, waiting. Meeting her kind eyes, she hoped Leia wasn’t going to try and convince her not to go again; she’d already told the wise General that she had to find the Wayfinder, that she needed to complete Luke’s mission and get to Exegol. Finn, Poe, Chewbacca and C3PO were already on board, waiting for her to join them; it was time to leave.

“Leia?” She stepped toward her mentor, who looked around cautiously before lowering her voice to speak to Rey.

“I need to give you something.”

Rey frowned, confused, glancing down to Leia’s empty, “What do you mean?”

Leia sighed, her eyes tired. Rey understood—she felt exhausted too. “I can’t explain it. And you must keep it to yourself until the moment is right—trust me, you’ll know when that is—if you do end up needing to,” Leia took hold of Rey’s hands, squeezing, “I’ll show you, but you must keep it tucked away no matter what.”

Seeing the seriousness in Leia’’s eyes, Rey swallowed and nodded, “Of course. I promise.” She returned the pressure to the General’s hands and watched as she reached up and pressed her fingers gently to Rey’s temple.

In a brief flash, Rey saw enough to understand.

As he was pushed roughly through the doors to an open hangar with Finn and Chewie, Poe couldn’t help but reflect on his life over the past year and a half. He’d had a lot of close calls, even been captured, but this was the first time he felt like he was going to die, as General Hux and a couple of Storm Troopers stood behind them, ready to execute Poe and his friends. He hoped Rey was able to escape, at least.

And Leia could get the news of his death to you. She would make sure you were taken care of for the rest of your life. He had no regrets, no, not with you on some planet far away from all of this and free to raise the baby. He’d done everything he could, fought as hard as possible, but that didn’t mean he was guaranteed to live.

Poe tried to picture what the baby might look like, whether they got your smile, his hair. Pain shot through his broken heart that his child would grow with only pictures of him, no memories. He glanced up at Finn, eager to distract himself; he could hear Hux speaking to the Troopers and ignored them.

“What were you going to tell Rey before?”

Finn hesitated, appearing uncomfortable, “You still on that?”

“Oh,” Poe frowned at him incredulously, “Is this a bad time?” He just wanted to hear Finn admit aloud he had feelings for Rey. He could sense it between them, especially recently, and thought that they made a good pair. In another life he could see himself with them, you at his side, enjoying a late-night dinner, laughing around a table while the kids pretended to be asleep in their bedrooms.

Nodding, Finn gave Poe a wary look, “It sort of is?” Poe scoffed, shaking his head.

“So I tell you my deepest secrets but right before we’re about to die you’re locking down on yours?” Poe hadn’t just told Finn about you; after he’d confessed your existence, he hadn’t been able to stop sharing with his friend, who listened attentively as Poe described his life with you, how he’d love you since he was ten years old.

Finn blanched, and after a pause opened his mouth to respond, only shots went off behind them and they flinched. Poe expected to feel pain, or perhaps nothing if the shot was well placed, only they heard thuds behind them and instead glanced around to find Hux holding a blaster, eyes on the dead Troopers momentarily before he looked up at them.

“I’m the spy.” He claimed, a dark smirk on his twisted face, and Poe felt a rush of confused relief—he and Finn exchanged looks as Chewie groaned.

“What?” He exclaimed at the same moment Finn yelled, “You?” In disbelief.

Hux ignored them, “We don’t have much time, we have to go.” He gestured for them to follow and after a brief pause, they hastened to climb to their feet.

Poe hurried forward and grabbed a few of the fallen Troopers blasters, passing them to Finn and Chewie before taking one for himself. His blood was rushing, the feeling of being alive still—of getting lucky, again—made him feel powerful like you were out there somewhere sending him the strength and good fortune that he needed at every turn.

As they ran behind Hux, Finn touched Poe’s arm. “That was too close—made me realize, do you have a way of her knowing if something happens to you?”

Poe nodded, “Leia will tell her.”

But he sincerely hoped that would never happen, that you wouldn’t be standing in the doorway of some home he’d never know and hear the words that he had died, that he was never coming for you. The idea of you being in that kind of pain was something he couldn’t fully fathom, and it only renewed his determination to get to the Wayfinder and finish this fight once and for all.

11 Months Ago

“Doesn’t matter how many galaxies separate us, I will always be with you, and you with me. I promise.”

Memories of your life with Poe had a way of burrowing into the forefront of your mind when you least expect them; when you let your guard down. The emotional goodbye all those years before, back on Yavin-4 when you were just kids—Poe leaving with Charlie to join the Resistance...it was a lifetime ago. And as much as you believed his words both then and now, it didn’t make the pain any easier to endure as you lay here without him, the Healer and Kes having left you alone with the newborn baby cradled in your arms.

You were surprised when the Healer had passed you the baby—after almost nine hours of labour—to see the tuft of dark curls on their head; Kes had remarked that Poe had come into the world with as much hair, and you’d laughed through your mixed tears of sorrow and joy and love. So they took after their dad—what a beautiful, heartbreaking thought.

Stars, you hoped Poe would meet them before long--before they grew too much. Just seeing the tiny creature, skin-to-skin with you like the Healer recommended, both made your heart feel complete while simultaneously tearing it apart. He should have been here to hold your hand, to cut the cord and press soft kisses to both of your heads and cry tears of joy from it all.

It wasn’t fair. Up until this moment you’d been able to lock back to anger and the bitter feelings over having let Poe send you away because it had been the right choice no matter what way you looked at it. But now, as you lay exhausted and bursting with love for the baby you made with your soulmate, you let some of that anger free through wretched sobs because it wasn’t fair that he had to miss this, that for all you knew he could be...

You stopped yourself from thinking of the worst-case scenario. It wasn’t helpful to imagine what he was doing now, where he was, if he was okay. And you’d promised him you would keep him alive in your mind unless you knew for certain that he wasn’t.

A small whine met your ears and you glanced down at the baby, smiling at their pinched expression as they struggled to adapt to their new surroundings. “It’s okay, little bug. Mama is here, shhh...” You cooed softly, running a lone finger over their hair in a gentle motion. You watched their eyes flutter beneath the lids, enjoying the feel of your touch, and then froze when they opened their eyes for the first time to look up at you blearily.

Stars, they had Poe’s eyes.

Now - 35 ABY - Battle of Exegol

When Temmin died, Poe truly began to lose all hope.

Before watching another friend’s x-wing get shot down, he’d managed to scrape the bottom of the barrel for that hope, for any remaining belief that they could win this fucking fight. That everything he’d ever sacrificed was worth it because now they had arrived and it was time to put an end to it all—but then he was screaming for Snap to watch his six, heard the anguished cry through the comm when he was hit, the searing memory of losing Charlie so many years before in the same way making his stomach churn, and he just felt so...

So fucking hopeless.

Leia was gone. The Resistance was down to pathetic numbers, and he had finally lost all hope.

Shit, if he was being honest with himself he’d been running through these last few days with urgency and adrenaline that prevented him from overthinking the odds, a blissful denial that anything other than winning could occur. When he’d told the remaining fighters of the Resistance that this was their final stand, that help would come, he had meant it as much as he’d hoped it was true.

“Help will come if they know there is hope,” Poe had stared around at his friends, at their doubting expressions, “They will. We have friends out there. The First Order wins by making us think we’re alone. We’re not alone—good people will fight if we lead them.”

In all of the time that had passed between when he’d said goodbye to you to this moment, he’d never once regretted sending you far away from the fight. Even here, with Rebel, after Rebel dying and a fleet of Destroyer’s that would wipe out entire planets unless they bent to the will of the First Order, he felt a sense of peace knowing that you were safely tucked away well beyond the reaches of their tyranny. His child would grow up with a mother who could share stories of Poe’s life, his love for you, for them.

It still stung, though, knowing he would never see you again. That he would die fighting and his last thoughts would be of you, of his little family, and you would have no idea. He hoped when you did find out the Resistance was done, the fight was lost, that you didn’t take it too hard—didn’t blame yourself in any way. He wanted you to be mad at him, not at yourself, not after everything you’d done for him, everything you had sacrificed.

He almost could have laughed, bleak as the outlook now was it shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did that no aid had arrived, that Lando and Chewie flew to the inner core worlds for nothing—clearly, no one was coming. Just like the Battle of Crait, they were alone; only now Leia was gone and Poe was the General, he was the one everyone was screaming for orders from through the comms, he was the one that had to say it aloud.

“My friends,” His voice was scratchy, choked up, as his mind played flashes of his life—of you, of losing Charlie, marrying you, losing Leia. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—”

He would die taking down as many enemies as he could. He would tell the rest of them to either do the same or flee—he wouldn’t blame them if they fled. Poe could almost imagine himself doing it, but the idea of finding you somewhere out there and saying he’d left at the final hour made bile heave in his stomach. He would never abandon the fight, not when you had wanted to stay as much as you had, but left for the baby.

As he struggled to pull in a breath to speak, he recalled the last time he saw you.

It was late, the base quiet and most of the Rebels sleeping, all except for Poe and you—it was time to say goodbye, under the cover of darkness. He wasn’t allowed to follow you into the hangar because he couldn’t know even the most minute details of how you got off-planet. Still, he would walk you as far as he could, and savour every final second together.

“I changed my mind, I’m not leaving you.” You whispered, halting in the hallway and turning to face Poe. One hand ran absentmindedly over your swollen stomach, the other reached up to grip his forearm. Your lower lip trembled, and he felt every word you wanted to say to convince him you should stay.

Poe took a shuddering breath, “Sweet girl, you aren’t leaving me—stop thinking about it like that. You’re saving our baby, keeping them safe, remember?” He tried to keep the desperate plea minimal in his voice because it had been like this for the last few days. One moment you were reluctantly prepared to leave, the next you were begging to stay. He didn’t know how much more of this torture he could stand before he broke down and let you stay.

Your pretty eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, just like his. You’d each cried more than enough to last a lifetime, and although heat pricked the corners of his eyes now he knew no more tears could come until you were out of sight. He would cry in his bed alone tonight, and probably every night until he saw you again, but right now he needed to show strength.

You stepped into his arms and Poe hugged you close, your body angling your stomach so that it wasn’t pressed between you both. “I don’t...Poe, I don’t think I’m strong enough to do this.”

Poe stared at you in disbelief, “Not strong enough? Are you kidding me?” He brought his hands to cup your cheeks gently, “You are the strongest person I know. What you are about to do for us, for our baby, is the most incredible sacrifice anyone could make. Everything you are doing and have done in your life only proves how amazing and strong you are—no matter what happens, please never forget that, okay?”

You whimpered sadly, nodding your head, and Poe shakily pressed his lips to yours, capturing you for one last kiss. It was soft and for one brief moment, he let himself imagine it was a greeting, though in truth it only made his heart fracture further rather than make him feel any better.

“Whatever happens, Poe, we’ll be okay...so don’t worry about us, focus on yourself,” You reached up and pushed your hands into his curls, savouring them one final time. “Promise me you’ll never stop fighting, flyboy.”

Poe smiled sadly down at you, his eyes drinking in every detail of your beautiful face, “Never, sweetheart, I promise I’ll never stop fighting. And this isn’t goodbye,” He pressed one hand gently against your belly, “It’s just a...see you soon. Once I’m finished blowing shit up in my x-wing.”

You laughed, tears streaming down your face and then pulled Poe against you again, his hand stuck between your bodies as you crushed him in a strong embrace. “I love you, Poe.”

“Oh, sweet girl, I love you too.”

35 ABY - Sorgan

You missed flying, though the place Leia had sent Kes and you to barely had any air traffic, the planet much too out of the way. Still, it had a sky that night or day you’d find yourself gazing into, wishing you could feel that weightlessness that came with blasting off from base, that you would look to your left and see Poe in his ship, the stars stretching beyond.

Poe. Stars, you missed him more and more every day. You had trouble believing it had been over a year, that the baby was now eleven months old and starting to try and walk and they’d never met their father. Though each time this knowledge became too heavy, you reminded yourself of the peaceful life you were living on Sorgan and how that had been the whole point of you leaving the fight—for the baby, for safety.

Sorgan was so far removed that no news reached the planet from the middle and core rims, something you’re sure Leia knew when she decided to send you here. You sometimes felt suffocated, not knowing a single thing about what was happening out there, but then you knew if you did know, it might make it harder to stay. And you couldn’t leave, you knew that for certain the moment you’d laid eyes on your newborn when the Healer had set the baby in your arms, face pinched as shrieks filled the air until they’d calmed, skin to skin with you.

You had gazed at the beautiful baby and you knew that you could never bear to part from them, no matter what you did or didn’t know about the war. Nonetheless, it was perhaps infinitesimally easier to be ignorant and allow yourself to imagine that it was all going fine.

You were living in a small but cozy yurt on the edge of a fishing village. The simple space comprised of the main room that hosted the barebones kitchen with a big table to eat at and a couple of comfortable sitting chairs, and had two rooms, one on either side, for sleeping quarters. The baby was in a crib at the end of your bed, where you were laying now. Very much awake even as they slept soundly.

Or so you thought until you were jerking from your thoughts at their sudden cries. You waited for a minute, the soft cries more whimpers than anything, and hoped the baby would soothe themselves back to sleep. They hiccuped, however, and started to cry again from the jolt. You sighed before sliding out from under the covers and padding softly to their crib.

“Your eyes aren’t even open,” You accused, grinning at the baby with the scrunched face, all the drama of their dad and only eleven months. Carefully lifting them, you tucked the baby against your chest and began to stroll slow circles around the bedroom, swaying as you went. “You know, when your dad finally comes and meets you he’s taking night duty over. I don’t care how many wars he wins.”

The little coo you got in response was enough to tell you Bug was on your side.

Though every day apart from Poe was painful, you did savour the good moments with the little piece of your heart that remained, beating for the baby you held now. And on this peaceful, sleepy planet most days had plenty of good—even if you were sad. Kes was an incredibly positive man, and like his son knew how to read you well, often stepping in to whisk the baby away whenever he sensed your sorrow was too hard to contain. You tried to spend all of the energy you had smiling for Bug because that was the only thing you could really do.

The guilt was heavy. You knew Poe would be devastated if he knew just how much you carried, living so comfortably—if a little rustic—on Sorgan all while he spent every day fighting to stay alive. But it was easier to focus on that guilt, to hate yourself than it was to be afraid of losing him—never seeing him again. Stars, the guilt was practically a salve in comparison to that.

Some days though, it was harder to keep the frame of mind that staying was the only option. As the baby grew, the guilt began to feed a steady flow of ‘what if’s’ into your mind. It was getting harder to ignore the sense of it. When Bug started to mix food into their diet, weaning partially from your breastmilk, you told yourself you could wean them completely, earlier than you planned but then you could hire a ship to take you back to D’Qar...

Only, you didn’t even know if D’Qar was still safe anymore.

It was a circular battle you couldn’t win no matter the choice you made, though you always chose the baby, chose to stay because you promised Poe you would. He’d told you that you were making the greatest sacrifice, and he had been right—he knew he could distract himself with the fight, and that you would only be able to distract yourself so much with raising the baby. He understood you would spend every day apart wishing you could rejoin him.

A soft snore pulled you from your thoughts and you glanced down at the baby to find them fast asleep again. You smiled fondly, that little chunk of your heart giving a happy beat as you settled them back into their crib and ran your fingers gently over their soft cheek.

“Goodnight, Charlie, my sweet girl.” You whispered heart clenching at the sight of her chubby cheeks relaxed in sleep.

Deciding a cool drink was needed, you slipped from the quiet of your room and into the main extension of the yurt you shared with Kes. A single lamp lit the small space dimly, and you helped yourself to a glass of water and took a seat at the table. You weren’t sure how long you were sitting there before Kes appeared and sat down across from you with a knowing smile on his face.

He sat silently for a few minutes as you sipped at your drink, speaking only once you’d finished. “Can’t sleep again?”

You sighed, running your hands through your hair, exhaustion setting deep in your bones.

“I keep having the same dream, Kes. Poe and Bug, back home on Yavin-4. Only, the beach is in colour but they aren’t.” You choked up, glancing toward your room, where you could see the crib through the doorway.

Kes followed your gaze, “Bug will meet him someday. I know it. You need to believe that too, kiddo, and you really need to get some sleep.” He patted your hand gently before standing and you watched him make his way to his room, pulling the curtain across his doorway as he did.

Taking a deep breath, you pressed your palms into your closed eyes, willing your mind to settle so that you could go to bed and get some rest. You just don’t think you could stand to have the dream again—always waking up and wondering, would you ever really get to see Poe again? Would he ever get to meet his little girl?

When you climbed back beneath the cool sheets of your bed, you fell into light sleep, your dreams the same as ever—Poe playing with Charlie on the beach back home on Yavin-4 while you sat on a blanket on the sand watching, laughing as they splashed each other. Your family, together again.

35 ABY - Battle of Exegol

As wretched as it was to think of never seeing you again, this wasn’t the first time he thought he was going to die. At least here, in his x-wing, he could take out as many enemies as he could before going out in a blaze—just like...like Charlie.

“I thought we had a shot. There’s too many of them.” He finished speaking to the remaining fighters in resignation, his eyes heavy—he was tired, so tired. Enough so that when a new, familiar voice came clear over the comms, he sat up straighter before his mind even registered what they were saying.

“Oh, but there’s more of us, Poe. There’s more of us.”

Poe spun his ship around, his heart frozen in his chest, flew up over the wreckage of the one First Order ship they’d so far managed to take out—and there it was.

Lando and Chewie were back; he could see the Falcon, and behind them were thousands and thousands of ships. And still, more coming as he looked, pulling out of light speed to fall in with the Falcon. Poe could hardly believe his eyes, but right before him, he couldn’t doubt for a moment that his friends had come back and they...

They had brought hope.

You sat with your toes in the water, the sun shining on your back warm and comforting. Charlie splashed around happily, her water suit covering her arms and legs, joining her cute straw hat in protecting her from too much sunlight. She kept looking from the water around her chubby legs to the flowing stream behind her-as if dissatisfied with the ankle-deep water you had set her in.

“You can go in the river in a few years,” You cocked a brow at her as she gave you a pouty look. “You’re very cute, but mama says no.”

With a resigned sigh that seemed far too mature for her, she went back to splashing the water and you slid your toes towards her, wriggling them so that she tried to catch hold. When she managed to grab your big toe, you laughed and she giggled brightly, her gleeful peals filling the quiet around you.

It was a beautiful day on Sorgan. They all were, really, even the rainy days, the ones that kept you inside the yurt listening to the rain while Kes tried to teach Charlie how to crawl and you laughed as you watched them. But the sunny days were the best, the ones you could fill with endless activity to distract yourself as much as to tire out the baby. Because when your mind settled, it tended to stray off into dark thoughts.

Maybe Poe was gone.

Maybe he would never come to find you here, your little family would be memories of Poe as you raised his little girl with Kes instead. The weight of that responsibility, of ensuring she had a happy life all while missing a whole section of your heart for the rest of your own was heavy so you tried not to overthink it.

You channelled that energy into Charlie, focused on her and you think you were doing a good job of keeping her safe and content. You showed Charlie pictures of Poe every day, wanting to ensure she knew his face even if she would never get to see it in person. She’d been looking at him since she was just a little bean, and you repeated his name, ‘dada’, every time as well. She wasn’t speaking yet, but it couldn’t hurt to keep the association in her mind when she was ready to start talking.

Charlie stopped splashing and glanced up at you with wide eyes, her expression familiar. “Hungry, Bug?” You reached out for her and lifted her from the water, carefully standing and wading to the grassy spot you’d set your picnic up.

You dried her off first, then let her crawl on the blanket while you dry your feet before following her to sit. She beelined for you as you untied your tunic, lowering one side and easing your breast out, grateful your nanny droid had provided you with a soothing balm for your aching nipples. Breastfeeding was your favourite way to bond with her, but Stars, it came at a cost.

You settled Charlie against you and watched as she closed her eyes, suckling softly. You adjusted the tunic to protect her from the sun and fell into a quiet state as she fed. It was sometime later that the sound of a large ship captured your attention, breaking you from your meditation.

Charlie was asleep against you, her face still pressed to your breast, and didn’t stir as the ship, far in the distance, flew past. You wondered briefly, a jolt of electricity coursing through you wondering if it was Poe come to find you both. But when the ship flew only further away, you pushed the idea from your mind. It was probably a shipment from the core worlds going to the markets. You made a mental note to plan a trip there for the next day—if there were fresh supplies, you might find a treat or two. Get something nice for Kes, perhaps.

Feeling exhaustion hit, you napped with Charlie there on the river's edge. You had nothing to fear on Sorgan, and in fact, many of the neighbours in your village were around, not too close but enough so that if needed they could come and wake you. You kept Charlie protected from the sun but let it shine on you, the brightness no match for the gentle lull of sleep, the soft trickle of the river.

When you woke an hour later, you felt more rested than you had in some time, pausing as you sat up to stretch the kinks from your body. Charlie was wriggling and you knew she probably needed to be changed. “Time to go home?” You asked her with a grin, and she made a sour little face in response that made you laugh. You loved how expressive she was, how even though she wasn’t talking yet she managed to let you know how she felt.

With practiced movements, you packed up the little picnic, hoisted your bag over one shoulder before lifting her to sit against your hip, and made the short walk home. Kes was sitting outside the yurt when you arrived, reading, though he set the book down at the sound of your footsteps and grinned widely when Charlie cooed for him.

“Did you have a nice time, ladies?”

You smiled, “She sure loves the water, I should start taking her in the river, see how she likes floating,” Kes took her from you carefully—Charlie made a face and you both laughed, “Sorry, Kes, I think she needs to be changed.”

“No worries, you relax for a bit and I’ll deal with diaper duty.”

Nodding gratefully, you set your bag down on the chair Kes had vacated and turned to gaze out at the grassy lawn. It was a simple home, certainly not where you would have planned to raise a baby, but it was peaceful. You start to think about the next steps, how long you would stay on Sorgan before leaving. You would go ahead first, find out if it was safe, and then you wanted to return to Yavin-4. Not for a few years, although you’d like to leave before Charlie got too old and she was too attached to this place.

You stepped away from the front of the yurt to stare out over the fields. First towards the villagers as they came in from working for the day in the waters, ready to put their feet up before making dinner, and then you turned toward the river and watched the water for a while, your arms crossed, listening distantly to Charlie and Kes making each other laugh inside.

When a voice broke through your thoughts a short while later, you started in surprise before spinning, recognition of the honey-warm tone slamming into you.

“You dreaming about me, sweet girl?”

“Rey, I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you—“

Rey cut Poe off, gripping his arm with a soft smile, “It was Leia, Poe. She found me before we left Ajan Kloss, she put the coordinates in my head, just in case she didn’t make it.”

Poe hugged her quickly, “Still, without you, I don’t know how long it would have taken me to find her here.” He hurried to the ramp, hitting the button to lower it with excitement mounting within him by the second.

“What do you want us to do?” Finn was standing next to Poe as he waited for the ramp to lower onto the grass.

Poe glanced up at his friend, “I have to go alone, can you wait for me here? I’ll come for you—or send for you—if I find them.” He adjusted his jacket as he spoke, nerves slicing his stomach to pieces. He hadn’t felt this close to you in almost a year and a half.

Finn nodded, a small smile on his lips, “We’ll wait. She has to be here, Poe, you’ll find her.” He clapped Poe on the shoulder encouragingly and he swallowed, unable to form a response so he just returned a half-smile and then clambered down the ramp.

Sorgan was a quiet, sleepy planet full of green. If you were here, the idea that you spent all this time in such a place was comforting to Poe—you would have been able to enjoy the land, be outside, not cooped up somewhere.

He was in a small village, and the market that lined the street was bustling with after-work crowds that were in the tens, the people all smiling at one another in a way that revealed how kind of a place it was. He wandered for a few minutes until he spotted a stand that carried medical supplies and approached the vendor, a friendly-looking older woman who grinned at him.

“Hello, stranger. How can I help you?”

Poe held up the photo he had of you, one he’d taken not long after finding out you were pregnant, your hand on your small belly and a big smile on your face. “Have you seen this woman, ma’am?”

“That’s Mrs. Carstairs,” She responded with a small nod. Poe felt his insides inflate, his excitement now ready to burst forth in a shout of glee that he had to bite back. He took a steadying breath, realizing that you had used your mother’s maiden name as your cover.

He grinned, “Yes, (y/n)—“

The woman cut him off, her eyes widening, “Oh now, you must be the husband. Now that I look at you, the baby has your eyes.”

Poe’s stomach turned over at this information. The baby had his eyes? “That’s me, do you know where I can find her, please?” He made to pull out some credits to pass over to the woman for her trouble, only she reached over to take his hand gently and shook her head, smiling.

“No need for that, dear,” She jerked her head in the direction of a nearby road that split off from the village, “Just follow that, about twenty minutes you’ll come across a fishing village. She lives right off that road on the outskirts of the village.”

Saying his thanks quickly, Poe ran faster than he had in his life in the direction she had indicated.

When he finally saw the little yurt along the main road, he breathed a sigh of relief. The sun was lowering in the sky and casting a golden glow over the ponds, fields and the nearby river. It was beautiful, and as he passed the fishing village he smiled at the villagers, who gave him curious looks before returning friendly smiles. He slowed to catch his breath, his eyes moving back to the yurt, now much closer. And then his gaze snapped to a figure standing not far from the door, gazing out in the direction of the river.

It was you.

His heart about ripped out of his chest at the sight of you alive and well. The closer he got he could see how you’d barely changed—your skin had seen more sunlight, your hair was longer, and he could see the soft curves of your figure that motherhood had brought on. He watched you for a moment, standing a few feet back, and he could hear his dad inside the yurt making a baby laugh.

Making his baby laugh.

“You dreaming about me, sweet girl?”

You spun around so fast you were a blur, though Poe didn’t miss the way your hand twitched toward the blaster at your hip before your eyes landed on him. Seeing this only made him grin more broadly, but nerves for the reunion kept him rooted to the spot. What if you were angry with him? The thought hadn’t occurred to him before this, but perhaps you-

“POE!” You cried out, and then you were running forward and jumping into his arms and it was everything he’d dreamed of and more. He caught you and held you close as you both fell to your knees in the grass, and Poe let himself get lost in the moment, sobs pulling from deep within.

He hugged you as tight as he could and then started to pepper your face with kisses, “Oh my sweet girl, I missed you. Stars above, I missed you,” He murmured, his eyes closing as your fingers sunk into his curls and tugged him, your lips crashing to his in a desperate kiss that felt exactly like coming home.

“I was so afraid you wouldn’t be able to find us,” You whimpered after pulling back, your body still pressed against his, “I can’t believe you’re finally here...”

Poe shook his head, “Leia had a backup plan all along. Stars, you are so beautiful,” He swept his fingers over your cheeks, getting a good look at you now and seeing how well cared for you looked; Sorgan had been good to you. “I’m here now. It’s over, we’re safe now.”

You released your hold on his head to run your hands over your face, wiping at your tears, “Poe, the baby’s just inside, I—”

Poe and you both turned your heads at the same time at the sound of Kes coming out the door, his excited shout of glee making you both grin wider. He was holding the baby in his arms, and they looked around at the sound of your laugh, eyes just like Poe’s wide and curious—what a beautiful sight.

For a beat, the baby just stared at him, and then as Kes moved closer, a smile—a little smirk just like yours—appeared.

“Dada!”

Kes froze and glanced down at the baby in surprise, and Poe heard you gasp, one of your hands landing on his arm and squeezing excitedly. “That’s right Charlie, sweet girl, this is your Dada!”

Poe couldn’t stop staring at the baby, who hadn’t looked away from him either even as you spoke to her. She made grabby hands then, reaching for him and he tentatively raised his hands. His dad closed the gap between them and lowered the baby and he took hold of her cautiously, words caught in his throat and his heart beating fast.

She was a solid thing, sturdy in his arms and cooing happily as she gazed up in wonder at Poe. She was stunning, her eyes honey-brown and lined with thick, long lashes just like yours. Her skin was soft, and she was chunky, her baby rolls making him smile wider. After a minute, she spoke again, “Dada!” She raised her little fists towards his scruffy jaw before glancing at you.

Poe followed her gaze, “How does she know me?” He breathed, his heart in his throat.

Your watery smile only grew, “Showed her your picture every day. Wanted her to know her daddy, even if he...he couldn’t be with us,” You shuffled closer, one arm securing itself around Charlie and grasping Kes’ arm. “That was her first word, Poe. She said it just for you.”

Tears stinging at his eyes, Poe sat huddled with his family, clutching the baby closer with one arm, the other around your shoulders. His dad had thrown his arms around both you and Poe and was lamenting about how good it was to see him while Charlie cooed happily in his arms.

The moment was better than he’d ever dreamed.

Poe couldn’t put Charlie down. He carried her around for the rest of the evening, following you into the comfortable yurt you had called home all this time, one hand always on you, keeping you close.

Dad was making dinner and Poe enjoyed the banter you had, the routine of living together clearly having established itself long ago. He felt a jolt of gratitude for his dad dropping everything on Yavin-4 to take care of you and Charlie all this time.

He ate with one hand, relinquishing his hold on you but tugging you into his side before eating, his eyes constantly drinking in every expression on the baby’s face. He hadn’t realized how in love he would be so instantly, and certainly had not expected Charlie to adore him just as much—he’d thought the baby would be shy around him, maybe cry when he held them. But you had ensured she knew his face, his name—just another thing you did for him.

Poe was never going to be able to thank you enough for everything you had done.

“Poe?” Your soft voice broke into his thoughts and he looked around at you. You gave him a tentative sort of look, “Where is BB8?”

His shoulders relaxed automatically, “Oh he’s on the ship I came here in...with my friends,” He grinned and you copied him, your eyes curious, “I’ll go get them tomorrow and you can meet...I have so much to tell you, sweetheart.”

Your expression softened, “We have all the time in the world now.” You reached up and stroked his jaw, the motion so familiar his eyes automatically closed and emotion swelled in his chest. Before he could reply, he felt a second, much smaller hand land on his jaw and begin to copy the movement.

He smiled, looking through his lashes to see Charlie watching you intently as she imitated you, “Clever baby,” He murmured, and Charlie lit up at the sound of his voice. He turned his head and kissed her little hand affectionately.

“She gets her brains from me,” Kes piped up, tossing a wink at you before collecting everyone’s plates. He set them in the large stone sink before glancing at his watch. “You want to put her down for the night in my room?”

As you nodded, your eyes falling from Kes to Charlie, Poe felt a flush begin to creep up his neck at the idea of being alone with you again after so much time. He wanted to hold you close with nothing separating your bodies and curl into your healing warmth. Your hand reached for his, pulling him from his thoughts, and you tipped your head toward the baby in his arms, whose eyes were blinking slowly as exhaustion set in.

“Time for bed, little Bug,” You murmured, leading Poe towards your room. The curtain across the doorway sat open, fluttering slightly in the cool evening air, and the room was dark, illuminated only by the moonlight outside and some of the filtering light from the lamps in the main room of the yurt.

Poe carried Charlie to her crib, pressing his lips gently to her forehead, “Goodnight, Charlie, I love you.” He whispered, smiling to himself when she replied with a sleepy little coo. You took her from Poe then and took a moment to show him how to put the baby down for the night.

His heart was beating wildly in his chest as he watched you soothe Charlie, your fingers brushing delicately over her cheeks until her fluttering lashes settled and a small snore confirmed she was asleep. Poe hadn’t felt so much love in such a long time, he was half convinced he wouldn’t survive all of it thrumming through him now. And Stars, he was fucking proud of you, of how good of a mother you were; you’d done an amazing job raising Charlie so far, and he briefly worried about how he would ever be able to compare to you; if he could be as good of a parent as you were.

Once you had Charlie tucked in, you pushed the crib silently into Kes’ room, then wandered over to an armchair and picked up a blanket. When you turned to look up at Poe, his breath caught at the expression on your face. “Come with me, flyboy.”

Gulping, Poe followed you outside and across the grassy lawn in silence. You led him straight to a secluded spot along the riverbank, the flow of the water the only sound he could hear aside from his heartbeat. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but he suddenly felt nervous, alone with you for the first time in over a year—he’d faced down death countless times since, and yet it was this moment that was giving him pause.

He watched as you carefully spread the blanket out on the cool grass, then slipped off your shoes before stepping towards Poe with a soft smile. “Come here,” You whispered, and he closed the gap between you both eagerly. Kicking off his shoes before pulling you against him in a crushing hug, nuzzling his face into your neck, inhaling your familiar scent deeply.

He couldn’t have said who started to cry first, just that the moment he had you tight in his arms, you were both taking shuddering breaths. He let himself sob in a mixture of joy and sadness for everything, one hand cradling your head against his chest as you sniffled. “Sweet girl,” Poe drew back to look down at you after a few minutes, “Maker, I missed you. Every day was...shit, just complete shit without you.” He admitted, eyes closing automatically when you reached up to brush the tears from his face.

“I missed you too, but you’re here now, Poe. You’re here and you’re safe,” You whispered, leaning up on your tiptoes and pressing a gentle kiss to the end of his nose, “You’re safe, baby.”

He kissed you then; harsher than he’d intended, but you met him with equal intensity, your hands sliding into his hair to draw him closer, teeth clashing. The need then, to be with you, became overwhelming—he pushed your pants down frantically, then undid the tie of your wrap tunic and slid it off your shoulders, grunting when he realized you wore no chest band beneath.

You’d started undressing him, but when your hand passed over his length he brushed his fingers against your pebbled nipples in response and you hissed, body jerking away slightly. Poe’s eyes snapped open and he quickly pulled back from kissing you, “Sweetheart, did I hurt you?”

You tugged at his shirt, smiling softly, and he removed it before glancing down your body, his eyes drinking in every glorious curve, the fullness to your breasts. “Breastfeeding is hard on these,” You replied, gesturing toward your somewhat swollen nipples, “You didn’t hurt me, just need to be careful.”

Poe nodded his understanding, surveying your postpartum body with a new wild hunger he’d never before experienced. You were beautiful, always, but something about seeing your shape with its new fullness, your milk-filled breasts and soft stomach—it made him feral. With a groan, he quickly helped you to lay down on the blanket, careful to avoid your chest as he peppered kisses down your warm body, relishing in every square inch of you. “My beautiful love,” He spread your legs apart, his hand trailing down the slit of your wet heat, “Oh sweet girl, so wet for me. You’re a fucking dream.”

As much as he wanted to taste you, lick you until you couldn’t see, the need to be inside of you was too great to allow for any more time apart. Propping himself on one arm, Poe gripped your thigh, lifting it from the ground, and gently rocked his hips forward, groaning as you tightly gripped around his cock, your body needing his just as much.

“Oh fuck, Poe...”

“I know—I’ve got you,” Poe whispered, settling between your thighs, he dropped your leg and lowered his body fully over yours, careful to keep his weight on his arm. He captured your lips against his as he slowly dragged his cock back, then rutted forward, building a slow pace meant to draw out the feeling of bliss for as long as possible. “Missed you—dreamt of you every night, baby, every fucking night.”

You had one hand tangled in Poe’s curls, the other pressed into his lower back and your legs wrapped around his hips. You whimpered, “N-never leaving you again,” The words came out strained, thick with emotion even as you moaned at the feel of him moving within you, “It’s you a-and me, f-forever. Forever.” Your back arched slightly, and Poe groaned at the change in angle, your walls clamping around him harder.

“Fuck,” He felt himself getting close and quickly slid his free hand between his body and yours, slamming into you as he circled your clit tenderly. “Forever, sweet girl, I promise—cum for me, let me feel you—“

“Poe—“ You whined, your eyes fluttering as your pleasure spiked, and he felt your body go rigid beneath him as his hips stuttered—he came with you, spilling himself with a groan as you trembled and moaned, then pressing himself as deep as he could while you both came tumbling back to each other.

When Poe finally collapsed next to you, he slipped out of you carefully before tugging you into his side, pressing his lips to the crown of your head while you both caught your breath. “Still...still got it, flyboy.” You joked, giggling when Poe shifted to look down at you with a smirk.

“I was going to say the same to you.”

“Ah well, it’s busy work running around after a baby, you know. Keeps you fit.” You grinned, snuggling against Poe as the cool night air seemed to seep between you. He reached above his head, grabbing his shirt and tossing it over your upper body to protect you from getting too cold.

Once he was satisfied you were comfortable, he rolled so that he was looking down at you, your head resting on his forearm. “Sweet girl, you—I mean, Charlie is perfect. You kept her safe, raised her, taught her who I was...I can never thank you enough, but I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying.”

“Oh Poe,” You smiled, your eyes glistening as you gazed up at him with a fondness that he felt almost undeserving of, a hand cupping his cheek. “You came back to us, that’s all I could have ever asked for—you’re alive and you’re here.” You choked up, then, and Poe leaned down to press his forehead to yours, cupping your cheek softly with one hand.

You lay together for a short while; until the cold became too much. Curling up together in bed sounded almost too good to be true. “Come on, sweet girl, let’s get some sleep,” He gathered you in his arms, pausing as you grabbed at the clothing he wasn’t going to bother putting on, and carried you into the yurt, the blanket abandoned in the grass outside.

When Poe had his body pressed against yours under the comforter of the bed you’d slept in alone all this time, he kept his arms securely around you and felt peace wash over him, “Going to introduce you to some pretty special friends in the morning, and then we can plan our next steps, my love.”

With a happy little sigh, you tucked your head into his neck and fell asleep promptly, your light snores lulling him until, just at the precipice of sleep, he smiled to himself—he was home.

The first thing you noticed when you woke early the next morning was the bed next to you was empty. Your hands roamed for Poe and when you didn’t find him you sat up quickly, wondering if perhaps you had dreamt of the day prior, of him coming home...

Only, a little giggle from outside your room sounded and you heard Poe proudly declare, “Clever, just like your mama, Charlie girl.”

You hadn’t ever known happiness like this, truly. Your heart was full and repaired and you couldn’t believe how after so much time, so many years of mistakes and pain, you were married to your best friend and he was currently waiting for you to wake up while caring for your baby, the little girl who shared traits of the both of you. This felt like a dream, but it was so raw it couldn’t be anything other than real.

You sprang from bed, throwing on your robe and hurrying out to see Poe holding Charlie as he sat in the armchair, bouncing her on his knee as she giggled for him. When you paused to watch, a smile stretching over your face, he glanced up at you and his own broadened, eyes shining brightly with affection.

“Morning, mama,” His thick morning voice always sent heat through you, and the fact that he was sitting shirtless, his hard muscles flexing as he moved Charlie only doused further fuel on the fire within. He seemed to read that in your expression, his soft eyes darkening somewhat before he sent you a wink that said there’d be time for that again later.

Charlie had looked around to follow Poe’s gaze and she cooed loudly when she saw you, her hands raised towards you. You frowned, “Oh, now you want mama time? Could it be that you’re hungry?” Charlie made grabby hands as Poe laughed and you pulled her from his arms before settling into the chair next to him, easing your robe open enough for her to have access to your chest.

Settling her in for her meals was second nature to you; you knew the way she preferred to lay, how to hold her just right, that she liked to feed quietly in the mornings but at night you were allowed to rub her back and speak soothing words to her. As she began to suckle, you carefully adjusted your breast to make the angle more comfortable, then glanced up remembering that Poe was watching.

The expression on his face was stunning—he was watching you rapturously, as though the sight before him was the most beautiful he’d ever seen. You saw emotion mixed in with the awe and the adoration, and you knew he was feeling grateful he hadn’t missed something as pure as this entirely, that Charlie hadn’t grown too much.

You leaned your head back to rest and smiled at Poe warmly, “She’s on partial foods now, you can feed her yourself a little later, if you want.” You whispered, and his face brightened even more. You felt a bit like those first days after you’d joined him and your brother on D’Qar, the giddy joy of reuniting making the smiles stretch for days.

“I’d love that,” He shuffled his chair closer, resting one hand behind where you were holding Charlie, the other raising to brush over your cheek. “Does it...hurt?”

You shook your head and his look of concern relaxed, “Not really, she’s good about not biting,” Poe cringed at the thought and you giggled, “She’s a good baby. Now, you said you wanted us to meet your friends?”

He nodded, his expression softening sadly, “They’re the reason I was able to make it home to you...I have so much to tell you, but I want you to meet them first.” Poe’s eyes dropped down to watch Charlie again and you let him have a moment, recognizing he had suffered a great deal over the year and a half apart.

You let your eyes wander over his bare torso and noticed now, in the morning light, that he had some new scars, some angrier than the others. The idea of him having been hurt made your stomach sink, and you couldn’t help but lean toward him, capturing his lips against yours when he glanced up. He moaned softly at the tender kiss, petting your hair, and you let yourself sink into the moment, pulling back only when Charlie stirred.

“Where did you leave them?”

Poe gestured toward the main village, “Just outside the village, on our ship. I could go and get them—“

You shook your head, “I think a walk will do us all good. Let’s get dressed, eh Charlie?” You made a face at the baby, who was sleepily peering up at you, happy with her tummy now full, and she smiled at your expression.

Poe insisted on changing Charlie’s diaper and dressing her, so you merely stood by and watched, handing him her daytime outfit and trying not to laugh too hard as he struggled. You could see the joy in his eyes as he attempted to get her arms through the sleeves, his big hands so incredibly gentle as he worked. It took about twice as long as normal, but eventually, Charlie was ready to go and you took her from Poe, strapping her to your chest with a sarong, watching him as he dressed.

You wanted to ask about the new scars. But you were afraid when you did, it would open up the vault he was currently guarding and all of the terrible stories would come tumbling out. Enjoying this peaceful reunion for a little longer wouldn’t hurt anyone, so you resisted the urge and instead popped your head into Kes’s room to let him know where you were going.

“It was hard, not knowing anything,” You admitted quietly as you walked along with Poe, Charlie gazing around happily. The arm draped over your shoulders tightened somewhat at your words. “Leia sure picked a good place for us, though. It’s been quiet, safe.”

You glanced at him, the tension in his jaw confirming something you’d suspected since he’d arrived-after he’d mentioned it was thanks to one of his new friends that he’d been able to find you. Leia was gone, but he didn’t know how to tell you—just as much as you were avoiding asking him for details, he was reluctant to give them.

“Yeah, she knew what she was doing,” He replied softly before his eyes lit up. You followed his gaze and saw a large ship, its ramp lowered, come into view just as a familiar orange and white blur was speeding in your direction.

“Buddy!” You yelled, hurrying forward and dropping to one knee to greet BB8, one arm securing Charlie closer to ensure she didn’t get too jostled from your movements. The droid beeped and whirred excitedly and the baby began to giggle, craning her head to look at BB8. “Charlie, this is BB8, wave hi—“ You laughed as Charlie roughly flopped her chubby arm in the direction of the droid.

You could feel Poe’s hand resting lightly on the crown of your hand, and you looked up at him to speak but before you could, another voice chimed in. “Poe, man, you found them!” A handsome man with enviably smooth skin and a friendly grin was walking towards you with a pretty woman who had sad eyes next to him.

Poe helped you to stand back up, his arm securing around you as he led you forward to meet his friends. “Finn—Rey, meet my better half, (y/n), and my kid, Charlie.”

You saw the pair shoot wide-eyed looks at Poe when he said Charlie’s name, and you realized he must have told them about you, about your brother. The thought warmed your heart even further. You reached out and grasped each of their hands in turn, grinning, “It is really lovely to meet you, thank you for getting Poe back to me and Charlie safely.”

Finn smiled warmly, “Hey, he saved our asses as much as we saved his,” Poe shoved his arm playfully, laughing. Rey was quiet, you noticed, gazing at the baby thoughtfully. You wondered who she had lost.

“Do you want to hold her?” You asked, and Rey met your eyes in surprise, though after a brief pause she smiled nervously and nodded. Her smile lit up her whole face, and you were glad you thought to offer the baby as a way to pull it from her—babies had a way of making the sad a little less daunting.

You lifted Charlie out of the sarong, “Say hi to Auntie Rey, Charlie!” Charlie began to babble incoherently in that cheerful baby talk as she settled against Rey’s hip. She watched her, smiling to herself, before glancing between you and Poe.

“She’s beautiful,” Rey’s hand caught one of Charlie’s, squeezing gently, “Takes after her mama, clearly.” She tacked on, throwing Poe a look that made you laugh out loud.

Finn, you noticed, was watching Rey hold the baby with a quiet expression of adoration that made you smile inwardly. He caught you staring and grinned cheekily. As he began to chide Poe teasingly, a sudden memory came to mind, of the last time you had spoken to your father.

“Just remember, family always comes first—but we can make our own family, sweetie,” Dad squeezed your hand, “Family is what we make it, big or small, blood-related or not. So you make sure to surround yourself with good people, people you love and trust, and you’ll always have a family.”

And as you stood there, gazing at your new friends, the people who had ensured your Poe had come back to you, you realized that you were only adding to your family today. You felt like the luckiest woman in the entire galaxy, your heart was bursting with joy and hope for everything still to come.

Poe pressed a kiss to your temple, and you shot him a smile, knowing he felt it too.

Here, you thought, was where the next chapter of your life began. And you couldn’t be more excited.

A/N—THANK YOU for reading this story, for enjoying this journey with me and loving my characters so much. I’m hopeful you loved this final chapter and can’t wait to hear your thoughts. And of course, we still have the epilogue coming!🤍

Taglist

@mermaidxatxheart @foxilayde @eleinemk @paintballkid711 @mylifeisactuallyamess @20th-centu-fairy-girl @deitysnips @cannedsoupsucks @ubri812 @poedameronloverx @hoeforthefictional @astrological-bitch @itsnottilly @itsdameron @alex-sulli @generousrunawaydonut @wildmoonflower @onlyferorder66 @afootnoteinyourhappiness @asaucecoveredsomething @ladydmalfoy

#Night changes series #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron fanfiction #poe x reader #poe dameron smut #poe dameron fluff #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction #rey star wars #finn x poe #poe and bb8 #oscar Isaac

129 notes · View notes

helpinghanikan · 4 years ago

Text

Hot Date

Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Sum: It shouldn't have to be said that SHIELD researchers aren't allowed to date their wards. But that doesn't stop the romantic tension from forming between you. The real question is, whose feelings will be most affected when the tension finally boils over?

Anomalous weapons supervisor was typed out on your paychecks, but babysitter would be a better description. Diplomas, experience and more resulted in your butt on bleachers. Watching the important people play around with powers few in this world understood.

Whoever designed this area probably didn’t know who exactly would be using it. It had the basics; a track for running, mats for sparring and weights for lifting. With more off the wall items thrown in that might be useful to the superpowered individuals using it. Like the massive metal balls being lifted and lowered by the red magic of your charge. Or one of your charges at least.

‘Wanda seems to have complete control of her powers. Whether these powers are coming from her mind or some sort of muscle in her hands has yet to be known.’ You type out just intime to get a guest sitting to your right.

“Can I get an autograph when your book is finished?” Pietro has been working on his accent, so had Wanda. As much pride as the two had they were still looking to adapt. But there were still hints of it on certain words. Especially when he’s this close not really trying.

“Only if I get to sign those tits.” Obviously, a joke, but you still had to take a quick glance to the camera. Just in case you get dragged into a meeting and this comes back up about your unprofessional comments. Not that it would stop your work.

“I can live without the signature,” Wanda’s voice, although distant, echoed in the wide space. “You’ve spelt many things wrong anyhow.”

Few people could say they were as close to the Maximoff twins as yourself. Even after the discovery of an alien/god, of the defrosting of a super-solider and the destruction from a billionaire people were wary of the twins.

It was through simple respect that Wanda had warmed up to you. You hadn’t talked to her with artificial kindness, didn’t look to the guards when her voiced raised even the slightest. No, you had asked how she was (the room was too hot for her), if she needed anything (just wanted to know how much longer she was going to be questioned), if she liked coffee or tea (tea is preferred), and how she was doing, really doing (she was tired, you all were).

It was another story for Pietro. Only trusting you after Wanda obviously saw you as a friend. Taking his own time to warm up after getting the same genuine experience you offered rather the blunt questions and stupid statements. It was the dinner you invited them to that sealed the deal. Nothing brings people together more than a lot of meat, the warm feeling of alcohol and a quiet afternoon with a food coma.

“What have you written?” Pietro asks, your laptop now in his hands.

There’s no point in trying to stop him when he snatches things. A child who had to move fast for food and safety makes petty theft a hard habit to beat. Not to mention Wanda already knew everything that went into your daily reports with a blink of her eye, it was seemingly only fair that Pietro got to know to.

“Same stuff I was doing yesterday, and the day before and the day before that and the-.”

“Yes, yes, thank you!” Pietro says, used to the child like taunts and knowing to stop you early.

With nothing of interest on said laptop he turned it back over to you. Taking his place leaning against your shoulder as you begin to work once more. Only speaking up to ensure you add in the correct description of his improvement.

These reports were supposed to be done without the twins knowledge. You were supposed to be a spy on the side of the government. Although it was blamed on Wanda’s mindreading in reality you had never tried to hide them. These friendships were genuine, resulting with the man practically putting himself in your lap to try and keep your attention.

"How much longer do we have to do this ‘training’?” Although a grown man Pietro could act like a little boy sometimes. When he’s done, he’s done. Taking whatever actions needed to get through his current situation and move on.

“For as long as the door is closed, Pietro.” Wanda has set the metal down. Taking slow steps to reach her brother and friend. “She would likely go faster without you hanging on her.”

There is no smooth way to say this; Pietro is a big spoon. Any chance he gets a hug or to hold someone results in being overwhelmed in lean muscle. Pietro was the only warmth during those impossible cold nights as newly orphaned children. His legs and arms creating a shelter that protected his chosen from any harm from ever happening. You were one of chosen now, which explained the face made at having to get up.

“Alright kids, let’s head home.” You say, slapping the laptop closed for effect.

You were one of several who kept an eye on the twins throughout the day. Wanda and Pietro pretended not to notice how certain employees just happened to always be in the hallway when walking through. Or the little cameras that were hidden in plain sight among the decorations in their quarters. And that’s not including all the mom aged agents “just checking in” at random times, complete with the sing song voice and overuse of the word “sweetie”.

On any other day you would have followed them into their quarters. Give them a recommendation for the TV and even stay awhile to watch it with them. A chime from your phone changing the day’s proceedings. It’s only a second-long hesitation that announces this change to the twins.

Pietro says your name in a tone different than the one earlier. It’s a tone of concern that snaps your head up at him. Wanda hanging around the quarter’s entryway, staying close enough to be apart of the conversation.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, now with your attention.

“What? Yeah, yes, I just got a…you know, a hot date.” You turn your phone to face him. Not long enough for him to read the entire message but enough to know that you weren’t completely hiding anything “I’ll see you guys later. Brush your teeth before going to bed, I’ll know if you don’t.”

Before Pietro or Wanda could give a retort the door slid shut.

“Who were they talking to?” Pietro asked the only other person in the room.

Wanda didn’t answer. Rather tilting her head towards her brother. Rolling her eyes when he asked “what? Wanda, what?”

Although officially a desk agent there were times the field required someone of your talents. When this happened, all other duties had to be dropped in exchange for an outfit change and a fancy car shared with your accompanying field agent. Natasha has been your designated agent since the first field mission and could now be considered a friend.

It would seem the babysitter had become the baby. Including having your clothes laid and being helped into them before reaching the car.

“You’re an heiress looking for some expensive decorations and I am your lovely assistant and translator for the evening.” Natasha says, holding the under-suit’s legs open for you to slip into. “We’ll show up fashionably late. You are incredibly rich and important and better than all of them. So, don’t make eye contact with anyone, and try not to say anything, they’re below you.”

Unlike fulltime field agents you weren’t trained enough to go without serious protection. Not just in the form of an accompanying agent but also in a (jokingly called) bullet proof onesie. So, fitting it was essentially a bullet-proof wetsuit that stopped at the knees and elbows. Making the clothes to wear over it something with long sleeves, past the ankles and covers the neck. Sunday school appropriate for this event.

“Can I fake an accent? Like, German?” It was a dumb question for you to ask, but the ride to the gallery was already taking longer than it should.

“Hmm, Let’s hear it.” Natasha doesn’t look up from her phone but still sounded interested.

“Vell-,”

“Stop.”

Very special pieces were being auctioned off tonight. Invite only without any advertisements to say what’s up for grabs to outsiders. Although the windows were blacked out and authorities were paid off (but obviously not enough) supposedly nothing for sale was illegal. But if that were true you wouldn’t have found a seat in the front row.

The language of the night was deeply European. One or two words you could maybe guess what they meant but there was no way you could name it. Nat knew it though; it kept her ears perked to the room and her mouth right next to your ear for most of the night.

First items up were the typical rich people arty stuff; vases and paintings that probably represented something to someone if you squinted. Those went for a year’s paycheck in minutes. It was after the third portrait of some lady now long dead that Nat placed a hand on your back, just below the neck.

“Next up is ours,” she whispered. “you’re doing good and you’re doing great.”

The entire night was spent with better manners than an office setting could ever be. Back straight, eyes forward, and no one is allowed to make eye-contact. It’s only when the target was wheeled in that your mask was starting to slide.

Genuine HYDRA blueprints for a titanium prosthetic. White ink on blue paper with decades old coffee stains and tiny tears, spread up and out under protective glass like a butterfly. Although Mr. Barnes had a serious upgrade with the Vibranium he now used. But these blueprints showed just how advance the original was for the time.

Sitting forward as it’s wheeled by wasn’t enough to authenticate the prints. Something you easily communicated to Agent Romanoff with just a look.

It was a bad idea, it called why too much attention, but Agent Romanoff whipped her head towards one of the several employees of the auction. Curling her finger at them to get them over and in her speaking line.

She speaks quickly, and with an edge to her voice, to the employee. With only a few words back that same employee returned to his post and spoke to the next man in charge.

“They going to invite a few of us up to inspect the piece,” Agent Romanoff whispers, “You’re going to have to be fast, we’re going on stage.”

Others in the audience made their way onto the stage when invited. Agent Romanoff ensures that you are somewhere in the middle of it. Heels and heavy shoes making creating white noise for your work to be done.

In all HYDRA’s documents, blue-prints and almost everything else their symbol was hidden throughout it. A little game of where’s the octopus in two places. A large, but translucent, icon covering the center. And a smaller one in the bottom right-hand corner, hidden behind the creator’s signature. Reproductions never had the smaller symbol, but the stains and fingerprints ensured you were right.

Later, during the debrief, you would be lectured about the importance of subtlety and espionage. But how was the look you gave Agent Romanoff any different than how others were looking at their people?

After that (completely natural and not at all suspicious) nod Natasha’s arm was around your back. This was part you were suddenly feeling ill. This was the part your assistant/translator/arm-candy would escort you out with just enough urgency and demands for the bathroom that you’d be gone before everyone was in their seats. Apparently this was also the part a sudden security guard fires twice into your chest.

“Watch your head.” Although not yelling Agent Romanoff’s voice was firm.

It's hard to say which was scarier; the bullets aiming firing for your death or how calm and professional Agent Romanoff was about it all. Although, few rounds were actually fired inside the auction hall.

Agent Romanoff shot an arm out to the first security. Pushing his gun up and inward quick enough to catch his jaw and take him out of the game. Agent Romanoff keeping the downed man’s sidearm for herself.

That was really the only bit of action you clearly saw that night. When things go wrong in the field it’s the agents job to remove their ward from the situation with minimal injuries. As the researcher your job was much simpler; don’t die. “Keep your head down, use your arms to protect yourself and trust your agent.” Was hammered in during field training. With this mantra running over and over you weren’t in the position to watch the mess happening all around.

“Someone, call the police!” It takes a second to realize it’s Agent Romanoff yelling this. In a panicked, almost shrill, voice that practically screamed ‘we’re being victimized!’

With all the guests now properly riled up it was easier to exit the building. Allowing the oncoming mod to carry the two of you out of the building without much more fuss from security. Trying to kill an agent was one thing but killing a rich connected person (or worse their spouses) would be on an entirely new issue.

Someone stepped on your foot. Another put an elbow in your rib harder than the bullets. And a third open hand pushed you, and your agent, right out the door and onto the street. It was only through the strength of Agent Romanoff, and your handling of flats, that this mission could be considered successful.

The blueprints were already being tracked and followed by the time you’re stripped down to underwear. The pretty clothes had to be taken removed, the makeup wiped off, hair undone, and the bullet proof onesie had to be taken away. Simple tank-tops, shorts and a coat were worn on the journey home. By the time it’s all off, and you’re finally walking into the apartment, it shouldn’t be surprising how you looked to others.

“Have a good time?” It takes a second to realize it’s just the roommate asking the question.

It’s expected that any roommate a SHIELD employee takes on would also be with SHIELD. The two of you weren’t in the same division or even security level part of why living together worked out so well. She was in the know enough to hear you complain but enough in the dark to keep any secrets from getting out.

“Yep, had a real banger of a night.” Although a friend and technical coworker you couldn’t disclose too much about the missions. At least not until the green light is given by the higher ups. Instead, you can only give the people something to speculate about. “Can’t wait to see what the bruises are going to look like tomorrow.”

Spoiler alert: the bruises looked like hickeys. Something noticed by Roommate but keeping quiet about it in exchange to heading out early. Ready with the latest thing to share with the office mates.

Just like any working environment gossip is always somewhere underfoot. After being dragged in by someone who couldn’t leave it at home it’s then latching onto everyone who came close enough to hear it. Most ignore it, others listen then forget and others drag carry it further into the workplace. Until researchers leaning against the wall talk too loudly and Pietro catches a few too many words.

“Who were they talking to?” Pietro asks once the housing area’s door shut. Quickly clearing things up with the use of your name.

“I’ve haven’t seen them yet.” Wanda doesn’t care enough to close her book but does enough to look up.

“No, yesterday. Before they left, someone messaged them. Who was it?”

Wanda shrugs and returns to her book, but there’s a smile there.

“You know who it is,” He says, now on beside her. “Tell me.”

“I can’t say for sure,” She’s smiling again. Only a slight glance at Pietro. “but I think he may be very handsome.”

The siblings argued as siblings do. With Wanda teasing as sisters do. All of this could be heard before you even made it to the door. Standing at its threshold to listen as the two go at it.

“Natasha will tell you the same, Pietro.” Wanda says, probably aware that you were in hearing distance. “And she says he can do more than simply be handsome.”

Although you say nothing Wanda grins at you.

The gossip overheard is just words without evidence. Just enough to get Pietro thinking but not enough to create any serious emotions. But the “evidence” to create those emotions was now standing in the room. Small marks darker than your natural skin was peaking out from the lower neckline.

To you, they were simple bruises, nothing worth trying to hide, even something to brag about to the other desk workers. To Pietro it was marks of another person, something that pursed his lips and marched away from. Doing so slowly, to be sure that both you and Wanda were aware of how upset he was.

“I missed something.” You say, setting everything down on the counter.

Wanda has a habit of sneaking into other people’s minds. The mission, the shots and the everything was slowly being filed through in the back of your head. A pressure at the base of your neck screaming that there was an intruder.

“Stop it.” You snapped, but Wanda only smiles back.

“How was your ‘hot date’?” She finally asks.

“Is that what he’s…sonofabitch. Pietro!” There are only three rooms in this section of the compound. One being Wanda’s, another Vision’s and the third Pietro. Making it easy enough to find the pouting grown man.

“What?” He asks upon your entering.

There isn’t a response on your part for moment or two. Spending that time going to the room’s corner. Standing on tiptoes to find that switch that definitely doesn’t exist on the camera. Shutting it down for the time being before turning to start your explanation.

“You can turn that back on.” He says from his place on the bed. “There’s nothing bad we need to talk about.”

“So, you don’t wanna hear about how I was shot in the tit?”

Manners were out the window at this point. Pietro openly looking towards your chest. Back up to your face, and back down to your chest. “You were shot? They look more like…”

“They’re not hickeys, I was shot a few time through a suit.” Frustration was starting to build up. It was overflowing when you finished with “You really should know about being shot.”

The hurt on his face screamed. He didn’t look away but stayed staring forward right at you. “Pietro, I’m so…I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“It hurts,” He says. “Being shot, it really hurts.”

“I’m sorry.” Even as you walk around to sit beside him Pietro stares at where you were. Listening to your apology but not saying much else. Until he dares to lean against you. Something more than cuddling with a friend this time around. “I get it, I get you’re scared and all that. And I really like you, Pietro, I like you more than I am allowed to.”

It’s hard to say who started the kiss, but it doesn’t really matter. It was happening, and it was so much more than a something between friends.

“When that camera comes back on this didn’t happen.” You say in a moment of separation for air.

“What happens when the camera goes off again?” He asks, thumb rubbing over the bruise.

#reader insert #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #quicksilver x reader #Pietros' alive au #One shot #Fluff kinda #Angst kinda #This is based on that window between 2012-2016 when everything was happy for the Avengers #Requested on my AOW #Not used to writing these kind of stories

143 notes · View notes

yunho0o0o0o · 4 years ago

Text

my fic recs: a masterlist

note: most of these have been reblogged on my account, but here’s a list for convenience, author’s summary is copy and pasted here if there is one, if it’s the first in a series I recommend the whole series, I’ll probably add to this as I read more, yes i know some people are missing i just somehow didn’t have any fics in my stache that included them

A- angst, S- smut, F- fluff

Includes BTS and Ateez

BTS:

OT7:

Lost & Found (F, 1.7k) - @namjoontunes - In a world where mythical creatures like dryads and vampires are commonplace, how will a household of supernatural humanoids react to their new kitten being a shapeshifting girl?

Lilies of the Valley (A) - @girlmeetsliv3 - includes ABO, yandere themes

Sunlight (F, A, 16,5k) - @floralsuga - A soulmate. That was all you had wished for. Someone to come home to, someone to be there for you, to build a life together with. And yet you were cursed with having seven. Seven soulmates that you could not allow yourself to have.

Fading Legacies (A, 3k) - @mindays - BTS achieved everything they’d ever dreamed of, becoming world wide idols. But then the zombie apocalypse hits and it’s all they can do to survive. And they’re going to need Y/N to do it.

The Gentlemen (M, A, F, 5.2k) - @honeymoonjin - Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now!

Ethereal Orbit (A, F, S, 1.1k) - @miamorjoon - somehow you’ve landed on this strange planet named Utepnia and you have to save their race from extinction.

Taehyung:

Chism (S, A, F, 19.9k) - @kpopfanfictrash - The entirety of your life, you have never fit in. A woman soldier. A passive power, wielded in the land of the bold. Despite this, you have followed your father’s advice and striven to blend into the crowd. You feel you have succeeded, until your Queen calls you before her with an arduous task. Guard the darkest cell in the lowest dungeon. Do not listen to what the prisoner has to say and above all else, keep your head. The old gods may be dead, but the humans are living.

Beastly Gods (M, A?, F, 8k) - @lemonjoonah - ‘Don’t leave the forest,’ a rule that you've been forced to follow since birth, but you are tired of living in this wooden cage. Out of desperation you cut a deal with Taehyung, who claims to be the only one who can get you out safely, even though he might be just as dangerous as the god you’re trying to escape.

Teach Me Dirty (S, 2.9k) - @forgottenpasta - Taehyung has a lot to teach his English teacher. Fortunately for him, you’re an eager and willing pupil.

Hoseok:

World of Pride (A, F?, 5.2k) - @an-ambivalent - artificial intelligence hoseok, includes yandere themes, your father created an AI to protect you when he’s gone

Yoongi:

Make Me (S, F, 4.4k) - @ppersonna - an ordinary sleepover with your best friend turns into anything but ordinary, thanks to your ridiculously loud neighbors above you.

Lineage (M, S, 6.7k) - @kosmosguk - When an engagement locks you, the 8th and forgotten princess, to the duke infamous for his cruelty, you find yourself counting the days until your inevitable death. It’s terrifying to think of your end, but when you arrive at his territory, you realize there’s a more morbid reason behind your marriage, and that the duke is much worse than the rumors have painted him out to be.

Switching Places (F, 1.7k) - @ijungkooki - soulmate au where you switch places with your soulmate at random times

Jin:

Scopophilic Affection (M, F, 7.8k) - @bibbykins - Scopophilia is a more dignified way to define voyeurism, something Seokjin had no intention of partaking in until he came across your live stream. Seokjin is a dignified man, but never in his life had he felt so depraved watching you smile and work like it was his profession, unable to reach through the screen and make you his. Unable to tell you how much he loves to watch you because you have no idea you’re live stream even exists. He can’t tell you how hypnotizing you are without the glaring controversy of him watching your hacked-into webcam, both as a human and director in the computer science division of the company he is a board member of. Nevertheless, you were his very guilty utmost pleasure.

Jungkook:

Shadow (2.2k) - @yoonologue - Shadow has been on the run her whole life. Her survival depended on her keeping her mouth shut and staying hidden. If she didn't then she would be captured and used as a pawn to do their bidding. But it seemed that her heart did not seem to understand that. She had never been able to ignore a person in need. She never had a problem before, but it seems that her luck had run out. Now she was left with scraped hands and unconscious boy that was too nosy for his own good.

Asterismos (A, F, S, 7.1k) - @hobiance - As far as you’re concerned, things like magic, prophecies, and fate are nothing more than fairytales. But when you accidentally bind your soul to a mysterious amulet you found at an antique shop, a group of seven warriors from a magical world inform you that you now hold the key to saving them all. The fate of the realm Elodia now rests in your hands, and you realize that you couldn’t have been more wrong.

Sweets (F, 4.2k) - @worldwidemochiguy - in which jungkook steals your lip balm and perfume instead of talking to you, you leave a post-it note with your number on it for the strange thief who only seems to take the most inexplicable items and has a strange sense of responsibility for your wellbeing, and the cute boy in your photography class with the fluffy hair and the oversized sweater keeps getting more and more endearing… , includes yandere themes

Pen Pal (A, 5.3k) - @chinkbihh - As a lonely person, the idea of exchanging letters with someone apart from society was actually quite appealing to you. In a random act of charity and desperation, you sign up for a pen pal and get paired up with an inmate named Jungkook. The letters were meant to help him cope with prison life, but little did anyone know it was actually driving him more mad., includes yandere themes

Quarter Quell (11.2k) - @chinkbihh - includes yandere themes, you are selected as a tribute for the next quarter quell (hunger games au), the volunteer from district two seems to have an unhealthy obsession with you

Haunted (A, S, 14.1k) - @mint-yooxgi - you move into a new house without knowing it’s already occupied, includes yandere themes, ghost! jungkook

ATEEZ:

OT8:

All Eyes On Me (S, A, F, 3.5k) - @atiny-piratequeen - member x member, not an x reader, yeosang focused, Yeosang is a very shy man. Everyone knows this.But he’s fed up of his shyness and insecurities being the reason he’s left out of sexual activities from the others. He wants them to look at him like they look at each other

Mingi:

Two is Better Than One (ft. Yunho) (S, F, 4.2k) - @mingishoe - a threesome with your boyfriend sub! Yunho and dom! Mingi

Yunho:

Two is Better Than One (ft. Mingi) (S, F, 4.2k) - @mingishoe - a threesome with your boyfriend sub! Yunho and dom! Mingi

Bassists Do It Deeper (S, 6.3k) - @luvteez - while using what you thought was your brother’s laptop you find a search history full of exhibitionism, only to find out you’ve been using one belonging to Yunho, the newest bandmate and your childhood enemy

Shower Sex (ft. Seonghwa) (S) - @atothetiny - after a long day at work you decide to join your boyfriend in the shower

San:

First Time With San (S, F, 3.5k) - @call-me-bha - Choi San, recognized as sex on legs among fans, was exactly-if not more- truthful to his reputation, and you quickly discovered that from the beginning of your relationship with him. In fact, you were about to find out about how much that name was made for him.

Seonghwa:

Truth or Dare (ft. Jaehyun and Johnny from NCT) (S, 6.2k) - @domjaehyun - playing truth or dare with your boyfriend and two guys you’ve hooked up with in the past when they propose a different kind of game

Focus (S) - @yeosangs-horizon - you and seonghwa try cockwarming in the study room, includes a little size kink

Shower Sex (ft. Yunho) (S) - @atothetiny - after a long day at work, you decide to join. your boyfriend in the shower

Yeosang:

Listen (F, 3k) - @mingishoe - You can hear every song your soulmate does, yours just happens to listen to the same song on repeat… for days.

Wooyoung:

Talkative (S) - @needyateez - when your car dies you’re forced to accept help from your enemy, Wooyoung, however things turn a different way than either of you were expecting

Hongjoong:

Miss (S) - @mingi-baby - sub hongjoong calling you miss

765 notes · View notes

stylesluxx · 4 years ago

Text

unashamed – e.call

[warnings: alienation]

summary: in which embry isn’t ashamed of y/n | tradgoth!reader | requested!

word count: 1,685

masterlist

By now, you were used to all the stares. Well, actually, no one stared anymore, just stayed away from you.

You don't know what turned people off; was it the jet black hair or the black lipstick? Maybe it was the eyeliner and the big black combat boots? But did you care? No.

Your mom thought it was a phase, but you never felt more confident in the way you looked.

When you first were getting into your look, your classmates stared, and you heard all the whispers. It was discouraging at first, but your mom always told you to hold your head high no matter what.

At first, it was the big black boots. Your eyes almost turned into hearts at first sight of them. But then you wanted to push it even further, the novelty of the boots wore off. You went for all black clothes now, ditching the floral skirts and donating whatever else wasn't you anymore. You wore your favorite black boots with black dresses, black shirts, black mini skirts, black jeans, as long as it was black, you would wear it.

Once you had the perfect wardrobe, you started doing your makeup. Black eyeliner, thick or thin, long or short, depended on the day.

But soon, that wasn't enough, and to complete your full evolution, you went and got box dye and dyed your hair jet black.

The whole style change garnered you the eyes of the entire school, but once they got used to the look, the stares subdued.

You were happy people no longer stared, but now you felt alienated. You were always shy, never had any real friends, just people you'd talk to in class. But no one would speak to you now.

You thought that maybe you should go back to your old look, but that wouldn't change anything. People would think you were confused, and they already made up their minds about you.

So, you held your head high, confident in yourself. Sure, you wished people would talk to you and give you a chance, but it wasn't worth trading your confidence and happiness for it.

But one day, you were in the library, not looking for any book, in particular, just thumbing along the spines. You finished reading the summary on the back of a book, and as you were looking for the spot you took it from, your eyes met another. The staring brown eyes were on the other side of the bookshelf, unwavering from yours.

You blinked and felt your cheeks heat up, not used to the looks anymore (but it was also just weird that someone was looking right into your eyes). You coughed gently, hoping to distract the boy across from you, but his soft amber eyes were unwavering.

"Um, are you alright?" You finally spoke up, keeping your voice low since you were in the library.

He seemed to have snapped out of his gaze. His face that displayed shock, was now covered with joy.

"You're Y/N, right?" He asked, an aloof smile on his face as he reached down to grab his backpack.

"Uh... yeah, Y/N," You nodded and walked as he quickly walked around the shelf.

He was now standing in front of you, tall and slender, warm russet skin, and the brown eyes that were just about ingrained into your brain.

"I'm Embry!"

He stuck his hand out, waiting for you to shake it. You hesitantly met your hand with his and shook it.

"Yeah, I know. We've gone to school since freshman year," You chuckled awkwardly.

You tried pulling your hand away, but it was practically glued, the way Embry was gripping it. You tugged it back, giving him a tight smile, and turned to walk away. It wasn't a lot, but you weren't used to the chitchatting, so you were growing uncomfortable. You were used to being isolated, forced to be alone.

"Wait, do you think... you could... help me find a good book?" He asked as if trying to make something up.

You raised an eyebrow but still nodded, walking a little further down the aisle.

"This is my favorite book, like, ever. You might like it, I don't know, don't really know what you like," You shrugged and grabbed the book of the shelf, handing it to the boy.

"Thank you. I'll make sure to give it a read. And I'll let you know what I think," He nodded and looked down at the book in his hands. "Do we have any classes together?"

"I don't really know; I just focus on the lesson if I'm honest," You shrugged. "But yeah, definitely let me know if you like it."

"Okay, I will. I better get going, they're waiting for me," He sighed and looked back at the table at the end of the aisle.

At the small circular table was Jacob Black and Quil Ateara. You didn't realize the two of them were there, their eyes locked on you and Embry. But now that you noticed them, they looked very on guard, ready to jump into action. But nothing crazy ever happened at your school, so you don't know why they were so tense.

"Yeah, you do that. They look like they're about to combust," You joked and turned away. "Talk to you later, Embry."

From then, you two grew to be practically inseparable.

He read the book fairly quickly and found you during lunch, going on and on about it. All you could do was smile; it was rare that someone liked something just as much as you did. And to hear him go on about it made you happy because he was happy, and you could see his eyes twinkle as he talked.

It became something like a book club, but you were always talking about things other than the books you'd recommend to each other. You were hanging out after school, getting pizza, watching the movie versions of the books you read. It was a great time. You finally had a friend.

Of course, you had to overcome the disbelief that he wanted to hang out with you, and it took even longer for you to believe he didn't care what other people thought.

He would wrap an arm around your shoulder, and even though you'd get flushed with embarrassment, he wouldn't think anything of it. You weren't embarrassed by him, of course, but now all eyes were back on you. You heard the whispers (you always did). The boy that went off the rails and joined a "gang" with the goth girl. It was all the school could talk about for weeks.

But the pack didn't think anything about your new relationship with their pack brother. They were happy, which you thought was weird; you thought they would judge you and maybe try to talk him out of it.

You found out about the pack and the imprinting after Embry invited you to Emily's for dinner one weekend.

He was asking you about how often you had to dye your hair, honestly intrigued. This made Paul laugh and say, "imprinting makes you interested in the most random things."

This comment caught your attention but what made you even more suspicious was Seth nudging him and saying, "bro, he didn't tell her yet! Idiot."

You had looked over at Embry, an eyebrow raised, but he just gave you a sheepish smile. You let it go for the time being, but the next movie night you had, you pressed him.

He spilled though you found it weird, you weren't going to push away the only person you had.

"So, Jake and Quil heard when I said they were going to combust? Like, because of the good hearing thing?" You asked, hand over your open mouth.

"That's your only question?" He chuckled and pulled you into his chest, kissing the top of your head.

You didn't know when you two had crossed the line from best friends to boyfriend and girlfriend, but you theorized it was that night.

He gripped your hand as you walked into the cafeteria. Instead of sitting alone at lunch, you sat with the pack and Kim. It made you happy to feel like you were a part of something. Something that accepted you for who you are.

"Maybe you can do that thing you do with your eyes on my eyes," Embry said, his head supported but by his hand as he looked at you lovingly.

"You mean eyeliner? You'll really let me?" You asked, your eyes lighting up with joy.

"Yeah, sure, seems fun," Your boyfriend shrugged nonchalantly, but you knew he was bubbling with happiness just at the sight of how happy you were.

"Y/N, please send me a picture of that," Quil chuckled, making Embry roll his eyes.

It was tv night at your house, very different from movie night. Leave it to your boyfriend to make a big deal about the difference. ("It's the principle!")

Tonight you were starting Golden Girls (Embry's choice. You wanted to start Community but Embry won rock, paper, scissors fair and square).

"Who even introduced you to Golden Girls?" You asked, holding the black eyeliner pen in your hand as you started your project.

"My mom, of course... duh Y/N," He mumbled the last part, making you giggle.

You finished one eye and went to move to the other, but you paused. At first, you were looking at your work, but then you started thinking about how perfect he was and how grateful you were to have him in your life.

You hadn't realized you were smiling like a goofy idiot until Embry spoke up.

"What? Did you mess up?" He asked and reached for the hand mirror on the coffee table.

"No, I just realized how much I love you, that's all," You shrugged and went back to doing his eyeliner.

Once you finished, you pulled back and kissed his cheek before looking at your masterpiece.

"You look great!" You smiled.

"Do I look like you?" He asked, smiling back at you

"Even better, baby."

[AN: heyyy, it’s me back from the dead. sorry I’ve been gone for like a month but I had the worst writer’s block omg. hopefully you all like this and I hope this somehow pushes me to keep writing but we’ll see lol]

#stylesluxx #embry call #twilight #embry call imagine #embry call x reader #twilight x reader #twilight imagine #wolf pack imagine #embry call fluff #embry call blurb #twilight blurb

268 notes · View notes

cheri-translates · 3 years ago

Text

[CN] Season 2 Summary (Volume 5: Ch 14 - 17)

🍒 Warning: Detailed spoilers from S2 🍒

Along with the update on 3 June 2021, the CN server released a “Plot Review” which contains bullet-point summaries of S2 :>

Volume 4 Summary: here

When you open your eyes again, you find that you’ve returned to the passageway in the former research centre

Although you originally think that you've re-entered the time loop, you discover a number of oddities

Feeling puzzled, you give Lucien a call, only to hear that his voice sounds as though he had lost something but found it again

“Don’t be afraid. This time, I’ll remember them with you.”

While reassuring you, Lucien rushes over

After talking to Lucien, you understand that after you were shot in the park, you died on the spot. Lucien then felt dizzy. When he opened his eyes again, you were no longer in his arms

Lucien makes a conjecture regarding your death and how you regained consciousness: the duration of your survival will be half of your previous duration of survival. Each time you die, time will leap by the same amount

“How could I not be concerned about you?”

Lucien’s attempts to save you are both reassuring and a promise he says to you amid the chaos

Just like always, he doesn’t fail your expectations, and fulfils this vow

You continuously reduce your duration of survival, which means that the Evolver who is behind this has to change the rules of nature. This exertion causes his Evol to continuously disappear

As such, through Lucien’s calculations, he uses the gravity Evol, finds a chance where he can match the other Evolver, and pulls the both of you out of the distorted time

Your safety is ensured. Lucien heads to the NW research room. Because of his ambition, and more so for your safety, he begins wresting for the control of the experiment

The dust seems to settle. But when you wake up the next day, you find that there’s a neckband on your neck. The entire city is enveloped in a thick fog, and the signal has been cut

On your phone, there’s an invitation to the Hunter Game

In this game of “hide and seek”, the ones with “Joker” cards have to catch “Humans” in order to extend the duration of their survival. The “Humans” have to look for portable oxygen concentrators in order to ensure their own survival

You’re a “Joker”, and you work with the “Human” Lucien to search for a way to survive

In order to study the fog, the two of you head to the bioscience centre. A supply point appears nearby, and a disagreement ensues because you’re both considering the other person’s safety. Lucien’s agitated emotions are contrary to your expectations

“I don’t wish for you to take risks.”

After being in a daze for a moment, Lucien calms down. He suggests that the both of you should compromise, and take this “risk” together

You deliberately expose yourself to an enemy in order to ensure Lucien’s safety. On the other hand, Lucien creates a trap made of icicles. After confirming the enemy’s position, he attacks. The tacit understanding the both of you have in this collaboration results in successful returns

Lucien makes progress in his research. He tells you that the fog comprises of an unknown substance. Such a substance should have a direct link to the Hunter Game. Unfortunately, the organiser of the game, Joker, appears and takes Lucien away...

To source for more clues, you leave the bioscience centre. Through the actions of passers-by, you’re able to obtain another batch of supplies, and you follow behind them

The place they head to turns out to be near Shaw’s antique store. It comes as a shock when you realise that half of the antique store has been burnt down

Just as you worry about Shaw, you hear his voice

“Who let you commit crimes in front of me?”

Shaw isn’t just unscathed. He seems to be using his own methods to maintain the peace and help those around him

He suggests that in order to prove the connection between the Hunter Game and the Lighthouse, he might as well lure the mastermind out

Shaw surmises that the supply points are made available in sequence, and decides to open a supply box in advance. Distributing the portable oxygen concentrators would reduce conflict, in turn ruining the game

As expected, the youth who hangs out around Joker appears. Even though he brings along external help, Shaw manages to suppress him. Unfortunately, the severely wounded youth renders both of your portable oxygen concentrators ineffective, and flees in the chaos

Shaw’s duration of survival is close to zero, but he doesn’t seem affected by the poisonous gas at all

While you’re feeling puzzled, Loveland City experiences a power cut. This causes the ad-hoc rescue points in the city to plunge into chaos

You know that Joker is doing all of this to stir people into conflict

You and Shaw head to the power station to investigate, and realise that the power lines have been tampered with by an Evolver. To restore electricity, Shaw overuses his Evol, using all his willpower to illuminate the whole of Loveland City

Shaw exhausts his energy, and the time left of your survival is almost reaching an end

“Hey, come here...”

Shaw grabs you, leaning against your shoulder. No matter what excuses he uses, you know that he’s extending your time

Shaw vanishes

[Note] A translation of Kiro’s segment is available here by @keliosyfan! I’d highly recommend reading it before the summary~

After leaving the power station, you decide to seek help from a rescue point

Along the way, the KIROMap suddenly starts up, and you can hear Kiro’s voice from the microphone on your neckband

The both of you communicate through the neckband. It turns out that since ever the Hunter Game began, he has been trying to decode the game’s system

Following his instructions, you successfully evade danger, and meet him in an underground carpark in a shopping mall

But the person you meet is Helios

While exchanging information, Helios locks you in a utility room. You know clearly in your heart that he did this to protect you

Through the KIROMap, you are able to trace his current location, and realise that he’s behind the door, right next to you

You give him information on Joker and the youth, hoping that they can be of some assistance

On the other side of the door, Helios uses his hacker skills to seize control of the Hunter Game

Your phone suddenly notifies you that the Hunter Game has come to an end

“I announce that a new game has officially begun.”

Helios uses his own computer program to create a new “game”, overturning the “hunt and kill” rules of the Hunter Game

Right at this moment, Helios opens the door to the utility room, and tells you that Joker has barged in along with others

The both of you deal with this group of people. Helios sets a trap, causing the other party’s game system to be completely taken over by Helios’. With this, he manages to successfully crack the program for the neckbands

The other party is furious, attempting to use bombs to destroy Helios’ computer

While fleeing for your life, the bomb explodes. Helios does something strange - he covers your ears

He appears alarmed, as though extremely worried that your ears would get hurt because of this

Amid the chaos, you make a guess regarding the truth behind Kiro’s hospitalisation, how Helios appeared, and other things - his hearing is damaged

Joker’s men appear, and they request for Helios to hand over the game’s access

Helios sustains heavy injuries during the confrontation with Joker. Just as you think Joker has won, Helios suddenly turns to the youth with the Evol to transfer objects-

“I command you. Send everyone in Loveland City out of the city immediately.”

Helios was pretending to be injured in order to lower Joker’s guard, and to find a chance to command the youth to send everyone away

Helios restarts the negotiations with Joker - he will take Joker to the Lighthouse. In exchange, Joker has to bring you to a safe place, as well as disperse the fog

In order to reassure you, Helios promises that he’d contact you tomorrow

After being sent to the Meteorological Centre, you contact people from Black Swan and related experts to disperse the fog

At daybreak on the second day, he tells you to meet him on the bridge near the riverside

He gives you all the control of the game. From his tone, he seems to be heading to a dangerous place

This time, his command causes soft waves to surface in your heart

“I want you to remember everything about us.

After parting ways, he promises that he’d definitely return safely

[Note] A more detailed translation of Gavin’s chapter is available here!

After the fog disperses, the Hunter Game appears to be discontinued. However, you discover that there’s a small island called “Small Rock Reef” in which there’s still a lot of activity. People who have been caught by “Jokers” may have been sent away and trapped there

You head to the STF to report this information and to ask for assistance. While conversing with Tang Chao, you find out that Gavin volunteered to head to the Small Rock Reef on his own

At this moment, Gavin contacts the STF. From what he says, you’re given preliminary information of what’s happening underground in Small Rock Reef, and surmise that there may be leads related to the Lighthouse there. As such, you offer to go there too

Under Gavin’s “reorganisation”, order is maintained in the underground arena of Small Rock Reef. While distributing supplies and freeing evacuating people who have been trapped, Gavin brings you to a place which has a special apparatus. The both of you determine that this is the apparatus Joker uses to gather Evol energy in order to unseal the Lighthouse

You and Gavin decide to study it properly after the evacuation operation. However, people from NW barge in, and employ violent tactics during the rescue mission. After being corrected by Gavin, a temporary partnership with NW is formed to carry out the evacuation. At this moment, a warning comes from STF into your earpieces - Loveland City is once again in a crisis. The fog has reappeared, and the Hunter Game is continuing

While this is happening, the numbers on the apparatus continue to increase

“This game is far from over.”

In order to stop Joker, the both of you decide to take apart this apparatus to ruin his plan

But this act of taking apart the apparatus triggers a device which Joker prepared in advance. Poisonous gas surfaces in the underground passageway. The walls crack, causing seawater to flood in, threatening to drown everyone. At this critical juncture, Gavin uses his Evol to push everyone into an entrance where they can escape with their lives. You insist on staying behind to face the danger with him

Gavin uses this opportunity to destroy the apparatus, but the number on the device continues to increase. The two of you think that the gathering of Evol energy will only be under control if the Hunter Game is put to a complete end. As such, the both of you return to Loveland City

With the cooperation of the STF agents, Gavin borrows the power of wind to “retrieve” the thick fog which had enveloped the city. With this, the Hunter Game comes to a halt. He announces the end of the Hunter Game to the entire city

“Each of you here is a hero of this city.”

While Gavin recuperates in the hospital, you receive a call from a Black Swan researcher, and find out that an overuse of Evol could result in pathological changes. You recall what happened earlier, and the sheer amount of Evol Gavin expended. As such, you immediately head to the hospital to let him know about this, but receive a polite rejection over the phone

“Why don’t we talk about this after we’re both done with work?”

On the other side, Gavin avoids you, watching as his fingers turn transparent. His use of Evol doesn’t seem very stable, and an ominous black wind curls around his fingertips...

Even though the Hunter Game has come to an end, LFG’s acquisition of companies related to the “Small Syringes” continues to draw heated debate

Victor hasn’t contacted you, but Goldman passes on a message, telling you to give a report on a proposal in LFG

Victor’s office is empty, but tiny hints that differ from the usual enables you to find the message left behind by Victor for you

“Don’t make me wait for too long.”

Through making Victor’s documents public, you restore LFG’s reputation, and also toss aside the ungrounded information that Victor was taken away by the police, and exert pressure on NW which took Victor away

At the same time, according to the message, you head to Grandpa Chuck’s small wooden house

Victor is likely using such methods to ensure your safety. Unfortunately, NW manages to find you, and brings you away

Here, you see a handcuffed Victor

Now that you’re here, you’re able to give Victor a more comprehensive understanding of what’s happening in the outside world. Victor has also analysed that Joker, who was almost successful, would definitely take action soon

Right after he finishes speaking, there is an explosion in Prison Island

“Remember. Don’t make a fool of yourself.”

Victor starts negotiating with the commanding officer

In exchange for him crossing time and space to keep the Prison Island under control, Victor requests for NW to guarantee your safety, remove the handcuffs, turn off the surveillance cameras in the room, and ensure both of your freedom after the matter is resolved. You also mention that you’re able to read memories of the people involved in the explosion, and can obtain Joker’s location and objective

The commanding officer of NW agrees to this deal

Through reading their memories, you find that Joker was on the island to do up a detailed plan, and he seems to be searching for something. You also find that this is the island you weren’t able to access the previous time - Small Rock Reef

On the other side, Victor has begun to direct the other island

“I more or less understand the situation. Prepare to begin.”

While giving commands, Victor determines that a certain object on the island is still absorbing energy, and he immediately pauses time

Victor suggests using himself as bait to force Joker to appear. This way, NW could use this chance to arrest Joker. Victor will take the initiative, and all NW has to do is agree

Before the plan begins, Victor specially sends you away, and accepts a certain drug from NW which can heighten his Evol

The plan to arrest Joker is underway. Victor shares his actual thoughts with you

He senses that NW intends to collect the spoils of victory without lifting a finger. As such, he needs you to read Joker’s memories, and be one step quicker in finding the thing he’s searching for, and then destroy it

“We only have one chance. Got it?”

When Joker appears, Victor pauses time temporarily. You seize this chance to learn that what he’s searching for is that stone tablet which has the symbol “8″ engraved in it

You do everything you can to search for it. Despite looking like a mess from running and falling, you successfully destroy the stone tablet

The plan succeeds. However, before you and Victor can celebrate, NW goes back on its word, arresting the both of you

At another location, Gavin is wearing formal attire, and he has arrived at a small courtyard

“After I find out the truth, I’ll exchange them back with you.”

Facing an elderly person who doesn’t trust him, Gavin removes his gun and badge, giving them to the other party

He seems to have made up his mind about something

During the interval when NW is arresting Joker, the youth who hangs out with Joker escapes

He pushes open the door, and the person standing in front of him is Lucien

“Because I’m the same as all of you, and need “intelligent people”.

Volume 6 (Ch 18 - 21): here

More S2 content: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers

48 notes · View notes

prettyboy-asmo · 4 years ago

Text

Obey me! boys with trans masc MC

Some headcanons about the brothers + Solomon and Diavolo with Trans Masc MC. it’s pretty self-indulgent. Obviously not everyone shares the same experiences with their identity. I took from my own experiences and feelings about things to write these.

TW: Mentions of transphobia (not detailed and not from any of the main characters)

Lucifer

It doesn’t actually come up for some time, not until you realize that you two are definitely getting closer to being intimate.

One night things start to get steamy and when you realize you have to force yourself to not run away. You’re still up and halfway across the room faster than Lucifer thought a human could move. Your heart is beating wildly in your chest, and you have to make yourself look Lucifer in the eyes.

He’s quick to apologize, thinking he made you uncomfortable- he’s honestly worried he’d hurt you or crossed your boundaries. You assure him that it’s nothing like that. You just need to explain something before things go further.

If you are nervous about telling him, he’ll wait patiently for you to say what you need to say. Reassures you that it changes nothing about how he feels about you. He only cares that you’re happy and comfortable.

“I’m glad you feel comfortable telling me. I know humans can hold some troubling views on the subject.” He’s never really understood a lot of the human hang ups on things like this, but he knows it’s a big deal for some to share the knowledge with others, it takes trust.

What he doesn’t say is how happy he is that you trust him that much (how proud he is,)

Will ask if there’s anything specific you need him to do/not do or anything that you might not have that you want or need. (ie: new binder if you haven’t had top surgery, do you want top surgery? He can make it happen.)

If you’re having a particularly bad time with dysphoria, he’ll straight up ask if there’s anything he can do to help.

He’ll also be sure to call you by your name, or specifically masculine terms

Someone misgenders you on purpose? He doesn’t hesitate to set them straight. No one’s foolish enough to do it again.

Mammon:

He finds out on accident. You’re changing when he barges in your room, saying something about being late for breakfast in his usual loud manner.

He freezes when he finally looks at you, Sees your binder or your scars but honestly it doesn’t really register bc holy shit his human is half dressed and standing in front of him and-poor boy is blushing so hard and is silent because he’s certain he’ll make a fool of himself.

It hadn’t occurred to you until he went quiet that he didn’t know already.

You finish getting dressed and his silence is worrying you at this point. You quietly ask him if he’d like for you to stop hanging around him

That manages to snap him out of his daze and he looks utterly confused. “Why would ya think that?” You try to explain that you’ve had people that have stopped speaking to you because you’re trans, or have even tried to tell you it’s wrong.

“They obviously don’t know anything,” He says, “You’re stuck with the Great Mammon, ya hear? I’m your first guy and you’re my man!” It’s not the first time he’s referred to you as his, but it’s the first time he’s used man instead of human. After that though, he starts doing it more and each time it makes you smile.

“That’s right, That’s my man!” “What took ya so long, man?”

If you’re having bad dysphoria he’s very vocal about calling you his man, reassuring you, and asking what you want in that moment. Stay in and just lay around? Sure. find a distraction? He can think of plenty.

He offers you some of his shirts and jackets. “They suit ya,” he insists, even if they’re big on you, “Gotta make sure my man is staying stylish!” (He won’t admit how happy it makes him to see you wearing his clothes, but you can tell anyways.)

Someone misgenders you to upset you? “What’d you just say to my man?” He’s angry and he’s not about to be quiet about it.

Leviathan:

You mention it off-handedly while discussing your favorite anime and manga.

You’d started talking about one that actually had pretty decent Trans rep, lamenting that it wasn’t more popular because of how much it meant to see someone like you-

Levi catches it immediately, but he doesn’t say anything about- It doesn’t change anything he feels anyway.

He does, however, take time to look for movies, tv shows, games, or anything you might both enjoy that has good Representation.

When you realize what he’s doing you can’t help but hug him tightly and kiss his cheek, and it makes him blush.”I’m glad you’re happy.”

Bad Dysphoria? He’ll drag you to his room to binge anime, play games, and watch movies. He knows the distraction helps.

You’re his Henry, and he’s gonna go the extra mile to make sure you’re comfortable, however he can.

If you use a binder and find you need a new one, he’s on top of it- He’ll offer to make one for you so he knows it’ll be the right size and it will be good quality.

Someone misgenders you after being corrected? He checks on you first and asks if you want him to do something about it. If he finds out they did it Maliciously? He’s going to do something about that- reminding everyone in the process that he’s the third eldest (and third most powerful) for a reason.

Satan:

It comes up when you start spending more time with him- studying or getting book recommendations to pass your free time, You can tell when your interactions shift to something more.

He nods when you tell him, “And your pronouns are He/him, correct?”

Asks if there’s anything he should avoid doing, anything you don’t like to be called, He wants to know your boundaries then and there so he doesn’t overstep them.

He spends some time researching. He wants to make sure he understands as much as he can about you, including this- he doesn’t want to ask you directly what your experience in the human realm was, in case it brings up any unpleasant memories.

You notice the change in his reading list eventually and it makes you feel warm knowing that he’s doing it for you. You tell him if he does have any questions he can ask you.

He does ask you if you use a binder and if you’re binding safely.

He also asks if Dysphoria is something you struggle with. If you tell him it is, his line of questioning shifts to things he can possibly do to help you deal with it.

If it’s a really rough day and you admit you don’t want to really do anything, he’ll pick a book to read to you, just so you know he’s there for anything you need, even if it’s just quiet company.

He also becomes a little more vocal, calls you things like dashing or handsome.

If someone misgenders you with ill intent? He’s going to deal with it, and it’s not going to be pretty.

Asmodeus:

He invites you to his room to show you the new outfits he bought. He does it pretty much every time he goes shopping.

This time the first outfit he walks out includes a skirt. You already know Asmo doesn’t believe in gendered clothing, or adhering to any sort of ‘norm’ but it’s the first time you’ve seen it so obviously in person when it comes to his clothes.

“I wish I could wear something like that,” the words are out your mouth before you register them, and you flush even while Asmo giggles. He offers his closet to you and tells you to try something on.

Your hesitance must show, because he frowns a little, looking concerned. “I used to,” you admit, “But people kept telling me that I didn’t need to transition if I liked all that stuff anyways.”

He’s next to you in a second, hand tilting your chin to look at him, “Fuck those people,” he says seriously, “It’s a shame for a man to hide such a delightful body. It’s even worse for him to deny himself things he likes because of ignorant commentary.”

He ends up making suggestions on what to try on, starting with a simple skirt and shirt combo.

You stare at the mirror for a long time, turning occasionally to watch the way the skirt flares up slightly when you do. You catch Asmo smiling behind you in the reflection.

“Do you like it?” You catch his eyes in the reflection, nodding, “I missed the feeling. Thank you, Asmo.”��

“Anything for someone as handsome as you,”

If you’re feeling really dysphoric he’ll try to pamper you- want him to brush your hair? Face masks? A relaxing bath? An entire spa day? New clothes? He wants you to feel good about yourself and he knows self care is the first step.

He loves to pick out clothes for you to wear, but he always explicitly asks what style you want, because he wants you to feel as good as you look in anything he picks for you.

If someone misgenders you maliciously or more than once, he’ll have plenty of words with them.

In fact, as it turns out many of his fans will also have words if they catch wind- Asmo loves posting pics with you on Devilgram and taking you to the Fall, so you’ve also become part of many of his fans' lives too.

Beelzebub:

You feel a little self-conscious surrounded by attractive demons- But Beel is a whole other level. He’s tall and solid muscle, and you're envious of it.

You know you could never keep up with his workouts, but you ask if you could join him anyways, and if he could give you some pointers on good workouts for specific goals. He agrees right away, more than happy to help.

It becomes a routine and you look forward to your shared workouts, even if it’s just you both doing your own thing, or Beel giving you pointers on your form or him asking you to record him so he can see how his own form looks.

You’re so comfortable around Beel, that during one of your afternoon workouts you pull your shirt over your head as you stop to take a break and even out your breathing.

“It’s not good to wear a binder while exercising for so long.” Beel’s concerned comment takes you off guard for a moment and you flush, unsure of what to say because he sounds so casual about it, and you aren’t really used to it.

You settle for “Sorry,” and quickly go to tug your shirt back on, but he shakes his head. “You don’t have to. Just rest while I finish up.”

“You’re doing this for you, right? No matter what, You’re a great guy, so don’t push yourself because other people expect it.” You’re surprised when he joins you after he’s done and it’s the first thing he says. You tell him it does help you feel better about yourself and you enjoy spending the time with him, doing something you both enjoy. And the smile he gives you is blinding.

If you’re having a bad time with Dysphoria he’ll ask what you want to do. Workout? Movie and Snacks? Do you need a distraction or do you want to just...be?

He’s well aware of the toxic masculinity that can be present in places like gyms and such. He’s never tolerated it, but there’s a new edge to him if he hears anyone saying something disrespectful or hateful.

If someone misgenders you, he makes his displeasure known but he focuses on making sure you aren’t upset. (Not many would dare risk making him angry anyways, as quiet as he is he’s still intimidating when he needs to be.)

Belphegor:

You don’t actually tell him. with how often you end up napping with him he just knows. He doesn’t even say anything about it- he doesn’t see the need to and neither do you.

He does say something the one time he catches you falling asleep in a binder. “You can’t sleep in that!” he wakes you up and makes you change- he tells you it’s important to have proper sleepwear, a lecture that might even rival one Lucifer's, as he himself begins to doze off.

After that he makes a point to check to make sure you aren’t wearing a binder before he cuddles up for a nap or for the night (Not that he admits it to you)

He likes to tease you, but he’s always hyper aware of his words. The last thing he wants to do is accidentally say something that might actually hurt you

He doesn’t tend to use overly gendered language with you in the first place, “You’re my nap buddy,” “You make a really nice pillow,” “I like it when you look flustered like that,”

But if he notices/ you tell him you’re struggling with dysphoria more than usual he’ll make the effort to use specifically masculine terms

He’s not the greatest with being open about his feelings but he’ll reassure you if that’s what you need

He doesn’t like seeing you struggling so he asks the best ways to help you feel better, even if he still teases you he’s doing his best to cheer you up or make you more comfortable.

If someone misgenders you on purpose he’s making sure you’re okay. He’ll be even more clingy than usual, glare at anyone he thinks looks at you wrong or he’ll simply drag you back home to laze around and cuddle (He tells you he’s tired and just wants to nap, but he really just wants to keep an eye on you in case it upset you more than you showed.)

He’ll have a discussion with whoever upset you later, anyways.

Solomon:

When you realize he’s way older than he looks you’re concerned that he’s gonna have some very archaic views about things.

Even as you grow closer to him, the thought nags at the back of your mind and it keeps you stuck at a distance despite his obvious flirting.

He notices, of course. “Am I making you uncomfortable? I can stop if you’d like,” It's a stark contrast to his usual teasing and mystic demeanor, and the serious expression on his face draws some courage from you.

You manage to tell him without stuttering, and then you flush when you tell him you weren’t sure he’d be okay with that. Saying it out loud makes you feel a little silly- all things considered.

He hums and tells you he understands, but that he doesn’t care in the sense that if you’re happy and true to yourself that’s what matters most. (It sounds suspiciously like something Asmo would say, but there’s sincerity in his voice and eyes.)

His flirting continues- when he passes you at RAD, when he invites you to study with him, even his messages, simple compliments like “You look rather handsome today,” or teasing “I’m so lucky to sit with the cutest boy in class,” but now that you aren’t worrying about other things, you can finally return his teasing.

If you’re having a hard time with dysphoria, he’ll ask if he can help. He’ll show up with snacks, movies, books, anything you want to do. He’ll even offer to ask Asmo for the needed supplies for a spa day, if he thinks that might help.

If someone misgenders you on purpose he’s gonna set them straight. He’s the most powerful sorcerer and he’s not going to let someone disrespect you like that

Diavolo:

When you arrive in the Devildom, you actually laugh. A few of the people (demons!) standing around you look concerned.

“I mean, plenty of people told me I’d go to hell but I don’t think this is what they meant.” There’s some surprised looks but no one mentions it past that, really.

But it does come up in one of your regular meetings with Diavolo, what had started out as short meetings to discuss how things were progressing during your stay had suddenly turned into hours of visiting over tea and Barbatos cooking.

He asks you what you meant when you’d said that. It wasn’t the first ‘personal’ question he asked you, and you didn’t see a reason not to explain. So you tell him all about your run ins with the wannabe preachers and ‘concerned’ Sunday school moms and the like and how you managed to offend them.

He looks curious and you tell him to feel free to ask you if he has a question. He has a few, mostly about if there’s anything making you uncomfortable he might not be aware of, or if there’s anything you need that you can’t get in the Devildom.

He’s genuinely concerned about not having thought about things like this when it comes to the exchange students, and asks if you’d help him make sure the program was improved and friendly towards all.

It warms your heart to see him so passionate and ready to learn in order to make others comfortable, so you agree without hesitation

Your visits with Diavolo grow in number after that though some of them remain just friendly visits, some are focused on the exchange program and some of them are far more intimate.

If you tell him you’re having a rough time with feeling dysphoric, he’ll Invite you over to visit and make sure you’re alright- and if you don’t feel like going out? He’ll come to you, a box of sweets from Barbatos and determined to find out if there’s anything he can do to help.

He’s all about reassurance, “You’re perfect, and I don’t lie, remember?”

Someone misgenders you intentionally or is just being transphobic in general? He’s quick to shut that down. He makes it known that he won’t tolerate any sort of hate speech or such behavior, and especially not towards you. No one is going to test Lord Diavolo on that, either.

#swd obey me #obey me #Trans masc MC #trans mc #om lucifer #om mammon #om leviathan #om satan #om asmodeus #om beelzebub #om belphegor #om solomon #om diavolo #Tw mention of transphobia #Obey me trans masc MC #obey me hc #headcanon #kinda self indulgent im just starving for content i can relate to

301 notes · View notes

hurting-fictional-people · 4 years ago

Text

Day two

Just a quick disclaimer: I tried to read about blood loss and stuff to make this as accurate as possible but in the end, the real scientific and completely medically precise source used to describe how Noah feels is how bad I feel after drawing blood when I can’t eat beforehand. So just ignore the medical inaccuracies please hsdjfhj

CW: lab whump, medical setting, needles, drawing blood, manhandling, restraints, muzzle

“Mr. Reeve, the doctor has requested you.”

It was weird how, sometimes, words felt physical. Noah was sitting on the bed one moment, trying to talk to his roommate – who kept dodging his questions –, and in the next, he was up and backing away to the wall farthest from the door and the guards waiting there, hands raised in surrender as a shiver ran through his body.

Even though he could hear his heart racing and feel his stomach churning, Noah grinned at the guards and crooned “You can go and tell dear dr. Carver to shove his request up his– “

Before he could finish, three guards hovered over him. Unforgiving hands grabbed his arms and hauled him out of the room, jerking in the tight grip.

Maverick, who had kept mostly to himself as Noah tried to get him to spill out everything he knew about the facility, stood up with a frown and called his name, but Noah was left guessing what he was about to say as the doors locked them each in one side.

He thrashed and kicked for half of the way before giving up.

“Fine, I’ll stop fighting, you guys can let me go. I’ll lose my arms if you keep cutting off my circulation like this.”

As soon as the hands left his arms, though, Noah darted forward. The hallways were endless and identical, but he would never forgive himself if he didn’t at least try to leave.

Noah didn’t even get to the corner before he was thrown to the ground face-first, avoiding breaking his nose by turning his head in the last possible second, hands held behind him and a knee on his back. A high-pitched yelp escaped his lips as the guard barked at his ear, “done with the antics, kid?”

He nodded against the cold tile. The man pulled him up but didn’t let go of his arms, still painfully twisted behind his back. Noah groaned, but didn’t bother complaining – he knew he wouldn’t be heard anyway.

Noah tried his best not to think of where he was going or what might be awaiting him, but when they stopped in front of sliding metal doors, he was already trembling. One of the guards typed something on a keyboard by the door, and as it opened, Noah had to lock his knees to keep them from bucking.

He stood before a wide lab, eyes darting between trays filled with needles, flasks, and sharp objects he didn’t know the name of but filled him with unease either way; cabinets he was sure held more of the frightening instruments; and the metal table, right in the middle of it all, surrounded by restraints.

He swallowed audibly and started to back away instinctively, earning a growl from a guard and an annoyed shove forward.

Dr. Carver looked up at him from where he rummaged through a cabinet and straightened up, smiling at the false bravado Noah was trying to pull.

“Noah! How nice of you to join us,” the doctor cooed, giving him a wink. Noah wished to have his hands free so he could punch that fucking wink out of that smug face. “On the table, please.”

“If your henchmen stop trying to dislocate my shoulder,” he hissed, writhing against the hands holding him.

The doctor only tilted his head to the side and admired the scene as the guards pushed him down on the table and buckled restraints around his ankles, his wrists, his chest, his hips. Noah swore through gritted teeth, loudly and profusely enough to feel burning glares from the nurses and other doctors strolling around the lab, casually ignoring him until then.

“Language, kid,” Dr. Carver chastised.

“Fuck you, you crazy fucking psycho, sadistic creep,” Noah grunted.

“Quit insulting me, Noah, it won’t do you any good.”

“I wasn’t insulting you, asshole, I was describing you,” he replied, pushing against the restraints and finding no give.

He expected annoyance at least, fury at best in response to his retort. Instead, he was met with an amused smile.

“Did you know we’re recording every test and experiment?” the doctor said softly, towering over Noah’s defenseless figure. “I’m going to take great pleasure in watching this later, once I’ve taught you how to behave properly.”

“We’ll see about that, doc,” Noah smirked, hoping it would conceal the dread pooling in his stomach.

“This is one of the wild ones, huh? We’ll see how long It lasts,” someone muttered behind him, earning low chuckles from faceless people. Suddenly it was too hard to keep up the fearless facade as helplessness fell over him like a thick blanket, stealing his breath away. They talked about Noah like he was a zoo animal – locked up against his will, just a helpless and unwilling entertainment. A lab rat. It was hard not to feel like it.

“Are you done being a brat?” Dr. Carver asked, dragging a stool and a metal tray on wheels next to Noah. “Let us begin, then.”

“Don’t fucking touch me!” he shouted, but no one listened.

Noah trashed as hard as he could, but all he could do was scratch his skin against the harsh material strapping him to the table.

“I’m not doing anything yet, kid. Hold still or this is going to be a lot more painful than it has to,” Carver warned with a look a parent might give a disobedient child.

Noah only thrashed harder.

Hands came from everywhere, grabbing his body all at the same time. A tourniquet was tied to his arm way too tightly, a cotton-tipped swab stuck up his nose so high it burned and made his eyes water. Before he could do as much as take a breath, a needle was stabbed into his vein so harshly and abruptly he couldn’t help by cry out.

“I told you to hold still,” dr. Carver said in a sing-song voice that got Noah clenching his fists and gritting his teeth.

As people continued to poke and prod him, Noah searched for the small black circle of a camera, finding one in each corner of the room. Staring straight at the closest one, he screamed “I want this to stop now! I do not allow my body or my image to be used in this experiment! They are keeping me captive and using me against my will!”

When he finished, shaky hands, gasping breath and raw voice, a chuckle filled the room.

“Cute,” Dr. Carver commented, patting his hand. He didn’t get a chance to scratch the man before he took the hand away. “But the recordings are mine and are never going to be seen by anyone else. Nice try, though.”

He would have replied, weren’t for the harsh hands suddenly holding his head still. Noah tried to bite and scream, but he was truly helpless to stop them when a piece of metal was shoved inside his mouth, keeping his tongue uncomfortably pressed to his palate, his jaw unable to fully close or open, and someone held his head up as another buckled straps behind it.

A muzzle.

They muzzled him.

Noah stared at dr. Carver with wide, betrayed eyes. The man simply giggled and continued to fill a bag with his blood. He tried to force his jaw open, to say something, anything, but the muzzle was strapped tight, and all he could produce was a pitiful whine. Shame filled him to the brim, making his cheeks burn.

“Don’t worry kid, this is just so you stop screaming and don’t give us a headache since we’re going to be here for a while,” the doctor said in a tranquilizing voice. “We’ll take it out once we’re done.”

He looked at Noah expectantly, as if waiting for a response, his smile wrapped in just the right amount of mockery to make Noah seethe.

With even his words taken away, Noah let his body sag on the table, eyes closed to keep the tears from falling as the doctors went on.

They took X-rays, ultrasounds, and countless tests no one cared to tell him the name of or what they were for. His body was handled by precise, impersonal hands, moving him slightly when needed, like a puppet being rearranged on stage. Like an object, made to be played with. Whenever he had the chance, Noah writhed as best as he could just to annoy the doctors, but the satisfaction it earned him was quickly muddled by the pain when they tightened the restraints so hard his extremities started to tingle.

It wasn’t the pain he was scared of. He had agreed on participating in the experiment before he knew it was actually a prison, knowing it would probably include some degree of pain. It was the lack of freedom that made him sick to his stomach with panic. The loss of his free will, which he had fought so hard to conquer, now being taken away in the blink of an eye. It hurt more than anything those so-called doctors could do to him.

And so, it hurt inside and out, as strangers with apathetic eyes used his body as if there was no one inside, whimpering softly and hoping that dreadful day could just come to an end.

After what felt like forever, when Noah was already dizzy and weak from all the blood they’d taken – why did they need two blood bags and that many tubes, anyway? –, dr. Carver smiled sweetly and shook his shoulder to get him out of the sleepy daze he didn’t realize he was in.

“We’re all done here, kid. I’d say you did good, but you really didn’t. You also lost quite a bit of blood and haven’t eaten anything, so I’d recommend resting and eating whatever we send to your room unless you want to be back here sooner rather than later. Hopefully next time you’ll behave better, and we won’t have to use the muzzle or the restraints, huh?”

His head was lifted, the muzzle taken away, leaving his jaw aching and his pride scattered somewhere along the floor, replaced by anger and embarrassment.

“Let’s not pretend you wouldn’t tie me down just to see me struggling, doc. I can see it in your eyes,” he said, working his jaw to try and alleviate the ache.

“You’ll be so cute when you learn to keep your mouth shut, Noah,” Carver sighed, not looking at all as annoyed as his words might’ve suggested. Actually, he sounded more entertained than anything.

With an indifferent nod to someone Noah couldn’t see, the doctor patted his cheek patronizingly and turned away.

A part of Noah felt the impulse of provoking the man one last time, just to try and get a reaction out of him, but the rest just wanted to curl up and sleep, forget that this day ever existed. So, when the guards surrounded him, unbuckling the restraints with maddening slowness, Noah just laid there and waited, too worn out to do or say anything.

The walk back to the room looked more like two grown men dragging a rag doll through disturbing hallways, but Noah was so faint and defeated that he just sank in their grip and stumbled across the cold floors.

He didn’t even realize they were already in front of his cell until the guards let go of his arms and shoved him inside. The ground approached quickly as his knees bent with the sudden push, but instead of being met with chilly tile and pain, he was enveloped by warm arms and a comforting presence holding all his weight.

“Thanks,” he murmured as Maverick helped him straighten up before staggering toward the bed.

“You are either the most intriguing subject they ever got their hands on, or you really pissed someone off if they left you like this on your second day here,” Maverick remarked, sitting on his own bed across Noah’s.

“I don’t think Carver likes being called a crazy fucking psycho,” Noah said in as smug a tone as he could muster, “or a sadistic creep.”

Maverick pursed his lips, but a snorted laugh was quick to escape them. He shook his head slowly, laughing audible for a moment before forcing his mouth back shut and replacing the softness the laughter had spread across his face with a slight frown. “Bold. But you shouldn’t do that, Noah. The sooner you stop resisting, the less they’ll actively hurt you.”

“They are keeping me captive; they are hurting me either way.”

Maverick glared at him, jaw pressed tight. “You are hardly escaping. It’s better to comply and accept the mercy you can have than fight for a lost cause.”

“The day I stop fighting, Maverick, is the day my fucking soul dies. If I comply, then I give up and I am never doing that. And you know what? You shouldn’t either – if you let them convince you that you can’t escape, then you really won’t.”

The words fell out of his mouth in a stumbling croak, his tongue feeling weird and sore inside his mouth. Even so, Noah would’ve kept going if the other man hadn’t turned his face away, brows furrowed and gaze furious. He would’ve been sorry for scolding him, but Noah truly meant what he’d said.

“Hey, how long have you been here?” it was hard to keep a lighthearted tone when he felt absolutely miserable, but Noah forced himself to roll to his side and swallow down the nausea and the humiliation that seemed to have stuck to him.

“I don’t know, they don’t let us keep track of time,” was the low answer, a hint of sadness tinging every word. “You have to make peace with what you’re living now, Noah. I’ve been here for longer, and I can tell you for sure: people don’t leave this place. The only thing we can do is hope that today doesn’t hurt as badly as yesterday.”

Helplessness emanated from Maverick as the words left his mouth. Noah’s roommate had clearly been through a lot more than he had, and he knew that arguing would render him nothing. So Noah kept his mouth shut and silently promised himself he would prove Maverick wrong.

“Are you okay?” Maverick asked suddenly.

“Yeah, why?”

It was a flat out lie. Noah’s body felt feeble and strained after so many hours held in the same position, his head hurt, and he feared he might start crying anytime.

“You are so pale your lips have disappeared.”

Noah pouted, trying to see his colorless lips.

“Damn, I can’t believe I’m already making a bad impression. Wanted to look nice at least on the first few days, you know?” he mumbled, the instinct to joke and hide his vulnerability taking over.

“You look like a very handsome ghost, don’t worry.”

Noah managed to crack out a smile as Maverick stared so intensely at his face, he feared he was looking at his soul.

“I think you’ll be okay, you just need to eat something and rest for a bit,” his roommate finally stated, glancing at the box attached to the wall from where the meals came in. “I’ll keep watch for when they deliver some food. You should sleep for now, I know you didn’t last night. Tell me if you start feeling worse or if anything changes, alright?”

Noah nodded once before curling up and closing his eyes. Strangely enough, he quickly fell into a dreamless sleep, too exhausted to even think about how he could still feel the muzzle pressed against his face. For once, he just laid there and let himself be lulled by the warm presence watching over him, knowing he wasn’t alone after such a terrible day.

When Noah woke up, he was alone in the cell, Maverick’s absence feeling like a weight on his stomach. This time the unease he felt looking around had nothing to do with blood loss.

#whump #creepy whumper #sadistic whumper #defiant whumpee #lab whump #medical setting #needles cw #blood mention #experiment whump #experimentation whump #medical whump #test subject #lab rats

95 notes · View notes

rabbitindisguise · 3 years ago

Note

Hey, what's the best book to get into Discworld? I started reading the colour of magic ages ago but found it a bit too random and dropped it. But I hear so much good about the series I might give it a try again.

Nice!! It's an honor you asked me :D I only just started read myself but I'll try my best!

(I also tried reading a couple years back but stopped because it was just confusing. Thankfully it seems like if you like one book it's easy to find others in the series that you'll also like, so it's worth the effort of trying to find an entry into the canon of discworld.)

I'm not surprised the color of magic was confusing too which means the next book you pick will probably be less confusing. The thing to know about discworld is the series started as satire geared at someone who has read an unreasonable amount of fantasy novels. Without knowing that going into it, the content can be a bit jarring. The other thing is that he writes in a very interpretation driven way, where the reader has to put in a lot of thinking to get the plot out of it. Just glancing over the fandom page of Going Postal can show how many times people have to say "it is implied" and other variations because things are rarely laid out so simply. Whenever it gets confusing, don't be afraid to read the fandom page to understand what is going on. Knowing all that, and if you want to give the color of magic a shot again, you'd want to know that the color of magic books are a story of Rincewind who hates all the conventions of magic and doesn't want to save the world but does anyway. He's a chosen hero that grumbles about saving people, which is a common archetype on tumblr people like. I watched the movies first and they were pretty easy to follow, and much easier after having read at least two books already. So even if you want to read color of magic it might be better to step back a bit with going postal (which also has a tv show, that can help you understand the writing style better by watching it in conjunction with reading it).

I started with the Tiffany Aching (The Wee Free Men and then Hat Full of Sky), and I definitely recommend them. Then I read Night Watch because I was interested in Sam Vimes, but I really should have started out with Guards! Guards! which was published a bit earlier and I was worried I wouldn't like it as much because of its age. The next book I'm going to read is Wyrd Sisters which is another book you can start with if you've heard of Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg.

I'm saying all this because I think a lot of people start/continue in places different than what they'd prefer having had read more books later which is why "where do I even start?" is a common question. If you google "discworld reading order" you'll see what I mean. Whatever you decide, even if it's not the ideal reading order, pick one that looks fun! Maybe the post office bores you, so you skip to making money. Maybe you don't care about The Wee Free Men so you skip to hat full of sky to see more about witches. Whatever you pick, I think discworld is interesting in that each book wasn't necessarily published "in order" even though it's "in order" in a characters timeline, giving you a lot of freedom to read a standalone book without a lot of context and still enjoy yourself. So the real answer is "whatever you want."

Having said all that though, I have some recommendations:

The Hogfather movie, actually. I watched this movie before I read any books and understood them. It's roughly the season for it and it's a sweet movie that's a very gentle step in the direction of understanding discworld.

Wee Free Men if you like YA/children's fantasy/narratively strong female characters. It's a well written, strong standalone book, and it was one of his later works and it's a regular "journey to save the day with magic" type of story. I like it because it's full of lots of adventure, there's a lot of high stakes moments, but it's also very funny. She hits a monster with a frying pan!

Guards! Guards! is a good starter book if you like the stuff about Sam Vimes. This is, I'm pretty sure, his origin story. He's a grumpy man who fights for justice and is- surprisingly- a police officer. Police officers actually do good eventually so even if the beginning is rough I'd say stick with it. Night Watch is a later book and one of my favorites so far because of how much he loves his wife. I don't know a thing about her except she likes dragons, but even with her off screen he talks about her internally a lot.

Going Postal if you like criminals and con men. Moist von Lipwig reforms the postal office, that's the basic ploy, but there's also golems, a battle with the clacks, the undercovering of plots, lots of near death experiences, and other shenanigans.

And Wyrd Sisters if you want Weatherwax. I recommend this but haven't read it because I bought it and I'm going to read it tonight probably. It's about witches.

Last but not least, here's a graphic to help you figure out what to read next after you find something you like

(it's a long series)

Hope this helps! ^^

#personal #discworld

10 notes · View notes

dragonfiremage · 4 years ago

Text

When We First Met

Author’s Note: I couldn’t get this out of my head last night so I spent all day on this. I wanted to build on Under the Moonlight so I wrote a prequel for it. I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: With the rise of insurgents and the recent break-in in his room following his coronation as Firelord, Zuko agrees, at Suki's recommendation, to increase security around the palace and hire a Kyoshi warrior guard at him at night. Good thing Suki knows the right person for the job - you.

At first, you weren't sure how you felt when Suki asked you to babysit the Firelord. When she first told you, you scoffed at the idea. Babysitting the firelord? How boriiing. You wanted where the action was! You wanted to chase down people and chi-block them...not watch over some Firelord while he slept.

But after some begging from Suki (and maybe a bribe of extra vacation day or two), you agreed.

The Firelord was a lot more handsome than you first thought when Suki introduces you to him. Zuko stood in front of you with a sheepish smile, before giving a small wave, "Hello, uh, I'm Firelord Zuko, but uh..you can just call me Zuko."

Beside him, Sokka guffaws and elbows Zuko, whispering, “Nice one, sifu hotman. You sounded real smooth there.”

Suki, who stood next to you with some notebooks against her chest, playfully throws a glare at Sokka, “Sokka, be nice."

Zuko turns red as he elbows Sokka back and glares at him before glancing back at you. A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you properly bow to him, your gold Kyoshi headband glinting from the oil lamps that were lit around the room.

"Its an honor, Firelord Zuko. I'm (YN) from Kyoshi Island."

Somewhere behind Zuko, Sokka snorts at the word honor. He walks past Zuko, who looks at Sokka with a perplexed gaze, and greets you warmly with a small hug, “Hey, (YN)! Mind if I whisk my girlfriend away now? I have this whole date night planned for tonight and we're on a tight schedule!"

Zuko blinks back in surprise. Sokka knew you? He watches you laugh warmly as you before patting Sokka’s shoulder, “Nice to see you too, Sokka. Have fun Suki, I can take it from here."

"Thank you again, (YN). I owe you one. Bye Zuko!"

Both Suki and Sokka leave the room, ther laughter echoing down the hallway as they talk over their date night plans. You glance back at Zuko who looks like he doesn’t know what to do next and you briefly think he looked rather cute when he was lost. You look over at his attire, his red and gold robes fitting him very well - the chest piece accentuating his shoulders and the gold bringing the color of his eyes.

'Definitely more handsome,' you think.

A beat of silence seem to stretch before Zuko cleared his throat to break it and asks, "So...uh...do...you need anything?"

Zuk mentally kicks himself. Why am I being so awkward?

You grin, one hand on your hip and the other motioned to the room,”No, but…do you mind if I take a look around?" Zuko nods in reply as he watches you slowly make your way around the room.

Zuko decides to lean against his desk and asks, “So.. you know Sokka?"

You were in the midst of inspecting his bookcase that shelved some books, trinkets, scrolls when you hear his question. Touching the at the dusty scroll on the shelf, you looked over your shoulder to meet Zuko’s gaze, wrinkle your nose at him as you replied with an amused tone, “Yes, he's kinda dating our team leader."

Zuko flushes with embarrassment and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “Right! Suki..."

He watches you disappear outside of his balcony before coming back in to inspect the area around it, moving some of the curtains around that framed the door. His eyes furrow in confusion, “What exactly are you doing...?"

You look over at his direction again and motioned to his balcony, “I’m just checking for any weak areas. Your balcony is high up along the wall which is good, but there are some blind spots below that might be a potential risk. I'll let Suki know to increase security around those areas after my shift."

All he could do was nod at you before you turn around again to look at the rest of his bedroom. You were thorough, Zuko gave you that and, instantly, he felt a little bit more at ease knowing you were doing your best for him.

Zuko quietly admitted that he felt unsure about having a Kyoshi warrior that he didn’t know guard him while he slept. He hoped Suki would take that task, but he knew that he asking too much from her and her busy schedule. But she placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and recommended you instead. Praising your strength and loyalty. He agreed hesitantly. However, as he watched you examine his room closely, his concerns vanished. He was actually looking forward in getting to know you better.

Zuko pushes himself off the table and moves over to a shelf containing a tray of tea assortments that his Uncle gave him. While he poured some water into the pot, he wonders what kind of tea you would enjoy before grabbing the Jasmine.

"Would you like a cup of tea?” Zukko offers.

You peek from his walk-in closet and a easy smile tugs at the corner of you lips, “That would be lovely."

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

Your friendship with the Firelord quickly grew after your first night at the palace. And, just like you promised, you had let Suki know about the blind spots by his window the following day and Suki thanked you graciously.

The more time you spent with the Firelord, the less you were thinking of your assignment as babysitting. In fact, you were day dreaming about him more and more, especially during the times when you weren’t working.

Was he safe?

Did he eat lunch yet?

Was his advisors too demanding again?

…Was he thinking of you too?

When you were working, you tried to stay professional but amicable towards him, but you longed to get to know him in a more intimate level. It didn’t help that you would melt in a puddle every time you glanced over at him while he slept peacefully.

Other than that, watching over Zuko was an easy job.

For the most part, Zuko kept to a routine, whether he knew that our not. You would arrive at your post just before sunset, and by that time he was either wrapping up his last meeting with his advisors, or he was already in his room, reading some official documents or signing proclamations before dinner. He would then drink tea, making sure to pour you one as well. Then he would retire for the night as you took your post against a pillar in the balcony.

So when you had arrived for your post that evening, you were surprised when the guards directed you to the palace gardens. And even more surprised when you saw the Firelord leaning over a pond, as he played with the turtleducks. Zuko greets you with a nod and goes back to to observing the ducklings.

You quietly took your post, placing your hands behind you, one hand grabbing the opposite wrist. You made sure you were were far away enough to give Zuko some privacy, but close enough to reach him if danger arose.

The setting sun lit everything with an orange glow, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes at the warmth, the winds picking up briefly and causing your your tassels to sway lightly. You peeped over at Zuko and the gentle curve of his smile makes your heart flutter with fondness. He lightly strokes the head of one of the ducklings as he coos at them sweetly. You couldn't help but let a smile spread across your face as you looked around the grounds for any threat.

When you first agreed to look after the Firelord, you thought it was going to be some boring assignment. However, being his guard gave you a glimpse behind the curtain and see Zuko on a more personal level.

For the past few days, Zuko kept surprising you with his commitment to maintaining peace among the nations, the way he listened to the problems of his people before jumping into action, and the way he stood firm on his convictions and values. He was a man of honor and it made you that much more loyal to him.

But, as you watch him pet his turtleducks, you realized that you would do anything to protect Zuko. The way his eyes gleamed with affection when he watched the turtleducks, the way he cooed at them so sweetly, and the way he carefully petted them as of if they would break under his touch. Despite the pain and abuse he faced from his father and the personal trials he went through to get where he was now, you concluded that Zuko was just a gentle dragon with a heart of gold. And you would do anything to protect that.

With great interest, you watch him grab some feed from a bag as he approached one of the ducks. However, one of the ducklings accidentally nibbles too hard at Zuko’s finger, mistaking it for feed. He yelps in surprise, scaring the turtleducks away as they scatter and before you could control it, you snort in before turning your head to the side to stifle your laughter.

“You think that’s funny?"

Your eyes widen at Zuko’s voice, embarrassed at being caught you laughing at him. You shift uncomfortably, trying to come up for a excuse while silently thanking the spirits for the white face make up you wore that was currently hiding your red cheeks.

Clearing your throat, you reply, "Uh, it was nothing, your majesty. Just something in my throat." You lie quickly, your face back to it's stoic expression.

Zuko stood and dusted his robes before smirking, "Right, so what I heard was coughing just now? Not laughing?"

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, “Uh, yes sir.”

Keeping your eyes trained in front of you, you maintained a straight face.

He hums in acknowledgement before adding, “Lying considered a criminal offense in the Kyoshi code, is it not?”

You braved a glance his way, catching his eyes before looking straight ahead. His tone was serious, but his gaze was soft and playful.

A smirk tugs at the corner of your lips as you stood your ground, shoulders rolling back straight before replying, “Yes, Firelord Zuko, that’s correct.”

Zuko crosses his arms as if trying to look intimidating, but you knew better, “So, let me ask you again, (YN), did you think that was funny?”

Your smile at the teasing. Instead of responding to him, however, you break from your post to walk over to him by the edge of the pond. A puzzled look came over his face as he watches you stand near him, his eyes catching yours before crouching down. He watched with curiosity as you bring your hands together and place it in front of you your mouth before releasing air through it and creating a series of sounds resembling that of a turtle duck call.

Zuko’s eyes widened at the sound but gasped when he saw the baby turtleducks swim over with excitement. You playfully twirl your fingers around them as they swam happily before extending your hand out to him. But Zuko just blinks at it with a blank stare, confused.

You laugh lightly at his expression, bringing Zuko’s gaze back to your face. His heart quickened at the slight smirk of your red lips. “Can I have some feed, my lord?”

A flush of embarrassment rushes to his face as he coughs nervously. “Oh! Uh…yes, here some feed.”

You grab some from his hand, trying to not think how your fingers tingled where they touched his warm skin. Bringing it to the pond, the turtleducks quack with delight as they swim closer. You let out a squeal of delight when they pushed their beaks into your hand, tickling the palm of your hand.

A smile breaks across of Zuko's face as he feels his insides flutter at the sound of your laughter. He quietly observes you with a lazy smile as you continued to kneel by pond, the sun setting behind you. The orange glow made you look more radiant that evening and he couldn’t help but feel a tug towards you.

Zuko chest tightened as he observed your more tender side. He honestly thought that you took your job a little too seriously. You were always on edge, as if ready to pounce at danger at any given moment. You were always thinking about his safety. Always checking and double checking the area to make sure it was clear before he could walk in. Always looking through his room in case someone was hiding within the curtains or under his bed. Always making sure he was safe. He hope to see this side of you more in the coming days.

But ever since you took up this job, Zuko noticed his sleep improving, even if they were minor improvements. Just knowing that you were there to protect him was enough to quiet his nightmares and worries. He smiles fondly above you, mentally making a note to thank Suki later. After all, she was the one who recommended you for the job.

As Zuko watches you observe the turtleducks fondly, Zuko realizes that he, too, would do anything to protect you.

#atla zuko x reader #zuko x reader #prince zuko x reader #zuko x you #firelord zuko x reader

550 notes · View notes

spine-buster · 4 years ago

Text

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 25

A/N: So this chapter begins the first mention of COVID-19 for the story. I know it’s not much but I did want to put a little disclaimer because I know it was a traumatic event for many people, especially those who were affected by it personally. We will obviously get deeper into it as the story progresses in the next chapters (judging by the date...it’s time!)

Also, no @’ing me about what happens here with a certain someone.

March 2nd, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was paying attention to the news at the airport.

“While the first case of what epidemiologists are referring to as COVID-19 was recorded in Toronto on January 25th, the novel coronavirus is still baffling some scientists in terms of its symptoms. They range from severe in some, to completely asymptomatic in others. While there are currently less than twenty cases in Toronto thus far, Ontario health officials have recorded three news cases today. One is a man in his 60s who returned on a flight from Egypt, while the other two are women in their 60s and 70s returning on a flight from Egypt. Public health officials are encouraging individuals to wash their hands frequently and exercise caution whenever and wherever possible.”

“Want some hand sanitizer?” John asked from beside her. He was laid out in the chair beside her while her knees were against her chest.

She nodded, leaving her bag of pretzels in her lap before she extended her hand and he squirted some Purell onto her hand. John always had everything readily available – hand sanitizer, band aids, healthy granola bars, breath mints – she was sure he probably had a spare hair elastic in his backpack too, and a full surgery kit for all she knew. She rubbed the sanitizer in between her hands. “What do you think about all this?” she asked, motioning towards the TV monitor.

John shrugged. “I’m a bit nervous about it,” he admitted. “I know that Aryne is taking some extra precautions with Jace. A lot of her friends from Queen’s ended up going to med school so she’s friends with a lot of doctors and listening to their advice.”

“I guess we should all be.”

“Wouldn’t hurt, right?” John asked rhetorically. “Better safe than sorry. What do you think about it?”

Aberdeen pursed her lips slightly. “I have no clue. Science goes way above my head. But if doctors and epidemiologists are going to tell me to do something – or not do something – so I don’t get sick, I’m going to do it – or not do it – whatever.”

“Atta girl,” John smiled. “Just listen to the experts.”

“That’s why I listen to you about hockey,” she winked.

He laughed out loud. “You butter me up too much. What are you looking for? A granola bar? You already have pretzels.”

“Not everything with me has to do with food.”

“Really?”

She pinched him.

***

March 5th, 2020

It was 24 Celsius in Los Angeles, and Aberdeen was loving it. Though the Leafs had suffered a bit of an embarrassing loss to San Jose the night before, today the team had a day off before they had back to back games against the Kings and Ducks. Some of them were going shopping on Rodeo Drive (Auston, Frederik), and some were visiting old friends since being traded (Kyle, Jack), but most were doing exactly what Aberdeen wanted to do: going to the beach.

They decided on Malibu Beach. It was only a thirty minute drive from the hotel, so Aberdeen put on her bathing suit and packed herself in a car with John, Jason, and Justin Holl. William, Rasmus, Kappy, and Pierre followed in another, with Tyson and Mitch tagging along in the last car too. It may not have been super-hot to Californians, but for sun-starved Canadians, it would do. The sun was out, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and she was going to tan the entire afternoon. She would take advantage of it as much as possible.

As she helped set up the blankets and beach towels, she watched as Mitch and Tyson already stripped down to their bathing suits and ran into the ocean together. Pierre was setting up some Bluetooth speakers and John was passing around the sunscreen. The visual of these men rubbing sunscreen across their abs made Aberdeen’s heart flutter – but then the image of them having to slather sunscreen all over each other’s backs brought her back down to earth. She chuckled to herself and shook her head.

“Aberdeen, sunscreen!” John tossed the bottle towards her. She caught it and stripped down to her tankini before squirting some onto her legs and arms, making sure to cover herself thoroughly. She could tell William was watching but trying not to make it seem like he was. Jason took care of her back.

The guys did their own thing while Aberdeen read her book and tanned. She could hear them screaming every now and then and watched as they gave each other piggyback rides and splashed water at each other like they were a peewee hockey team on a weekend tournament. Every now and again someone would come back to the blankets and beach towels to relax, but soon enough, they were back in the ocean, being loud and obnoxious but happy, happy boys.

“Whatcha reading?” Tyson asked as he walked towards her, wet from the salt water and sand sticking to his legs. She flashed the book at him – Milkman by Anna Burns – and he squinted his eyes to see it properly in the sunlight. “Is it about milk?” he asked.

She shorted. She remembered back to when she was reading Women Talking by Miriam Toews and William asked “Do women talk in it?” like a smartass. “It’s about a woman in what’s very obviously Belfast coming of age during the Troubles. I thought it might give me some more insight into what my mom grew up in.”

“Is it any good? Was it as good as the one you were reading last week on the plane? Normal Girls or whatever it was?”

Aberdeen giggled. “Normal People, you mean? No, it’s not as good as that. Fuck, I loved that book.”

“I know. You wouldn’t shut up about it!” he joked, wiping his body off. From behind him, Aberdeen could see John making his way towards them. William was still off in the ocean, throwing a football between him, Pierre, and Mitch. “Think you can teach Mitch how to read?”

Aberdeen smiled. “I can certainly try.”

As if on cue, Mitch’s booming voice was heard. “Hey T-Bear! Get over here!” he yelled, putting everything he had into his throw of the football so it reached Tyson, who caught it expertly.

“See ya later, Aberdeen,” he said before running off, throwing the football towards Pierre who had to dive into the water to catch it.

Instead of focusing on the water cascading down Pierre’s abs or the sunlight hitting William’s broad shoulders perfectly, making him look like some Norse god, she focused her attention on John. “You feeling good?” she asked.

“The best,” he nodded, wiping himself off before lying the towel down again and sitting on it, bringing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. “You’ve already gotten some colour,” he commented.

“Thank God,” she said, looking down at her arms. “The winter has made me so pale. It’s a bummer I didn’t get my dad’s skin tone. My sister and brother got lucky with that.”

“You took after the Scottish side?” he asked. Aberdeen nodded. “I get it,” he said. “Aryne can’t tan either. She burns too easily.”

“Wonder if the Swedes are going to look like tomatoes in a couple of hours,” she said, nodding her head towards them. “Imagine they’re on TV and beet red? I might get fired for not slathering sunscreen on you guys or not telling you to put on some hats.”

John laughed out loud, choosing to lean back on his elbows. “I don’t know about that, Aberdeen. Something tells me you’ll be around for a long time if certain people have anything to say about it – well, until you want to leave, that is.”

Aberdeen’s body stiffened slightly at his words. “Wh…what do you mean?” she asked.

“Ah, nothing serious, Aberdeen. Don’t worry,” he said, shaking his head. With the silence between them, Aberdeen thought he may have dropped it, but he didn’t. He was just preparing to articulate what he wanted to say. “It’s not just Brendan liking you, you know. We know William has, like, the biggest crush on you, okay? We’re all adults here,” he said to her shock. “It’s cute, but we all know it’s harmless.”

“It is harmless,” she stressed.

“I know, Aberdeen. Don’t worry.”

“Don’t for a second forget that you’re all Toronto Maple Leafs,” she said. “Every job in this organization is a dream job for someone and you guys forget that some people spend their entire lives, their entire careers, building up their resumes waiting to get hired by this organization. Nobody would ever, ever, under any circumstances, want to do anything to fuck it up, because once you’re done here, there’s nowhere else to go.”

“I knooooow, I know. I’m just ribbing you like we rib him about it,” he smiled. He was so jovial about it all that Aberdeen calmed down a bit. He wasn’t trying to get to the bottom of something like he was when he and Morgan asked her about Ethan – he was just being good-humoured. A human, not a captain of a hockey team. Maybe her overreaction was a bit much but she needed to remain guarded and vigilant about it if ever, and whenever the guys brought it up. “He looks at you googly-eyed all the time even though he knows nothing’s ever gonna happen. I’m pretty sure he’d cry whenever you leave.”

Aberdeen snorted. Cry from joy, probably, because that would mean they could actually touch each other in public. “He told you that? That nothing is ever gonna happen?”

John nodded his head. “Well, nothing’s ever gonna happen as long as you work here,” he clarified. “But don’t tell him I told you. He kind of figures and we all know it’s a lost cause as long as you’re working here.”

Aberdeen nodded, deciding not to say anything as she looked out into the distance. The boys were still throwing the football, and Justin was attempting a yoga pose on the beach. She picked up her book and buried her head in it.

***

Adrian Kempe, a Swedish friend of William’s, recommended a taco restaurant in Malibu for the group to have dinner. It wasn’t a far drive from where they were on the beach, so at around six in the evening, they shook the sand off the towels and packed them back in the cars and headed to Café Habana. Aberdeen was in the car with John, Jason, and Justin again.

When they arrived at the restaurant, she looked out the backseat window to see Kappy making a beeline towards someone. The girl, Aberdeen soon noticed, was Saylor. She figured Saylor was here for another modelling gig, though Aberdeen did find it somewhat amusing that Saylor always popped up in cities or areas with…well, shall we say distractions. She was in New York. Las Vegas. Aberdeen knew she’d been to Florida. Now she was in LA. Saylor didn’t go Columbus or Colorado.

“Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii,” Saylor squealed as she saw Willy, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him. “Surrrrrpriiiiise!”

“Surprise,” he smirked, but Aberdeen could tell he wasn’t as excited as she was. “Here for some modelling?”

“Who wouldn’t want to come down to LA to model? I just came from a shoot,” she said, now focusing her attention on Aberdeen. “Hey girl!” she squealed again.

“Hi Saylor,” she smiled.

“I’m so glad I won’t be the only girl here tonight,” she smirked. “The boys can get so boring sometimes.”

“Aberdeen’s used to it by now,” Jason piped in. “She’s only been travelling with us since September.”

The group moved towards the restaurant and were seated in the back patio at a long table. Aberdeen was squished in between Jason and John, and directly across from her sat Willy, Pierre to his right and Saylor to his left. Saylor and Kasperi didn’t even have to sit down to ask the waiter and waitress attending to them if they had oysters. They didn’t. With one quick look at the menu, and a disproportionately long discussion requiring everybody’s calculators to be out to determine how many orders of tacos were required for everybody to have three tacos each (much to Aberdeen’s entertainment), the group ordered four orders of every taco variation (and there were five of them) on the menu, along with some sides of baby broccoli, sautéed zucchini, and French fries. As a dining group of 11, it should have been more than enough food. She felt bad for the chefs, but knew the food would be amazing. She saw it being brought to a table near them and it looked delectable.

While Aberdeen maintained professionalism at all times when she was in front of the guys, when the tacos came, that professionalism waned. She made sure to grab the four tacos she was guaranteed and wanted and piled them onto her plate. They looked delicious. Even as she bit into her first one, she moaned audibly at the taste, making the guys around her laugh. Willy eyed her as she did so, taking a bite out of his own.

“So what have you been up to?” Saylor asked Aberdeen as she crunched on a French fry. “Kappy told me it was your birthday?”

“It was! I turned 22.”

“Ohmigod, I remember my 22nd birthday. We went to the rooftop bar at the Bowery Hotel in New York City,” Saylor said. Aberdeen knew it would be something ultra-luxurious because that was the only way Saylor seemed to roll. “What did you end up doing?”

“Oh, a bunch of friends and I just got a booth and bottle service at a club. Nothing as fancy as that,” Aberdeen answered.

“How many were you?”

“I’d say about twenty.”

Saylor’s eyes bulged a bit. “When you get older, your friend group gets soooo small,” she said, her tone making it seem like she was the all-knowledgeable big sister bestowing wise knowledge upon Aberdeen. Saylor was only a year older than her. If it was Jen, Aryne, or Bee giving this advice, fine – but not Saylor. “My friend group is so small now. All the drama that goes on between people is just so tiring, you know? Less people, less drama.”

Aberdeen didn’t want to be rude, so she nodded her head. “I can get that. These are all people I’ve known since high school and throughout university, though. We’ve already been friends for a long time.”

“And you’re still friends with them?” Saylor asked.

Aberdeen nodded her head. Before she could say anything else, John piped up. “I think that’s a testament to your character more so than anything, Aberdeen.”

“But it could also speak to, like, the way people are,” Saylor went on. Aberdeen indulged her, looking at her so she would continue. “Like, when I was in high school – my family is from Lake Forest, and I went to Lake Forest Academy – I found out this one friend was talking behind my back and I totally ditched her. But then we ended up at the same college, and it was really weird for a while, but then we ended up becoming friends!”

Aberdeen didn’t know what point she was trying to make. Neither did anybody else listening, judging by the looks on their faces. “That’s good you were able to turn the relationship around,” she commented, not knowing what else to say.

Saylor looked very proud of herself. “Besides that, what else have you been up to? Are you still just, like, Brendan’s assistant?”

Aberdeen bit her tongue to smile curtly. “Just.”

“And a great one at that,” Jason said before stuffing his mouth with a taco.

“I guess that’s enough for you,” Saylor commented.

Aberdeen almost dropped her taco. So did Jason. Willy was looking in between them. She didn’t know how to respond at this point and not sound rude when Saylor’s rudeness was so blatantly obvious. Aberdeen still wasn’t sure whether or not Saylor actually had the capacity to be underhanded. She was starting to err on the side of Saylor knowing exactly what she was saying to people but saying it in such a way and with such a tone that everyone thought she was just dumb and didn’t know better. Aberdeen began to believe Saylor did know better, and her act wasn’t fooling Aberdeen anymore. It made her reconsider what Saylor said to her in New York about her nose. “It’s actually not enough for me, but it’s what’s paying the bills right now and I’m not going to discuss career aspirations at the dinner table in front of people who are technically my colleagues and who don’t want to see me leave anytime soon.”

“But you can’t be in a job you hate just because it pays the bills!” she said like some dreamer. “You need to go out there and be creative! Cultivate! Be artistic! Design! Sometimes the best opportunities come when you just drop everything, quit your job, and start hustling as you do what you love!”

Aberdeen felt her blood begin to boil. She tried to remain calm. “One – I never said I hated my job. I love this job and I love the people I work with,” she clarified. “Two – that’s a bit easy to say for someone with family money who grew up in Lake Forest and went to a private school. I have rent to pay. Bills – groceries, my cell phone, internet, stuff for my cat – I can’t just up and quit my job with a steady income to hustle and be creative when I have a shit ton of responsibilities.”

“I’m sure your parents would help you if it’s your dream and it’s something you really wanted to do.”

“No, they wouldn’t,” Aberdeen deadpanned. “My parents have their own shit to deal with. My mom would kick my ass if I was that stupid. I mean, my parents are immigrants, so that goes without saying. They don’t owe me a dollar, and I would never ask them for it. I would never do that to them.”

“What about your grandparents?”

Aberdeen could feel John, Jason, Pierre, and Willy deflate at the question. It was almost comical. “I think you’re missing the point, Saylor,” Jason said nicely. “Aberdeen is already hustling to get to an end-goal of writing. This job is actually helping her get to that goal.”

“Writing?” Saylor questioned. “I thought for sure you wanted to, like, work in sports or broadcasting or something. Writing, then? That makes sense, I guess. Better for you to stick behind the cameras.”

Aberdeen wondered if everybody else could hear what Saylor was saying too. She felt like she was in the twilight zone or something. It confirmed to her that Saylor knew exactly what she was saying. “Yeah, I guess. Kind of how it’s better for you to be in front of the cameras because you thrive on attention.”

“Yes! Modelling is all about getting attention and hype around your brand,” she smiled sincerely, so happy that the topic was back on her and her modelling. She didn’t get the subtle dig at her…extracurricular activities that took up more of people’s attention than any work or collaborations or modelling she’d done. “I’m working so hard to build mine now, which is why I’m in LA having meetings and doing more collabs.”

“Is modelling enough for you?” Jason asked.

Aberdeen almost spit out her water, but Willy beat her to it. She saw Saylor’s face light up even more. “Oh my God, yes. I looove modelling. I’m soooo into the creative aspect of it and building my brand.”

“That’s great, Saylor,” Aberdeen smiled. “I’m really glad that it’s working out for you considering how much you love it.”

“Thanks, girl,” she winked. “It’s hard because the industry is so saturated these days. I mean we were talking about this in New York. Every girl with an iPhone, some makeup, and good angles thinks she’s a model. It really takes someone creative like me to stand out. Someone with a unique look and a unique brand,” she went on. “Like your nose, you know? It’s big. Huge. We talked about that. You could get a nose job, or you could work with it. Most would get a nose job.”

Jason was ready for Aberdeen to snap. So was John. So was Pierre. But William knew better. When he saw Aberdeen smile, close-mouthed, just a hint of a coy grin playing on her face, he knew better. “I have a Virginia Woolf nose,” Aberdeen said. “It reminds me of how much I want to become a writer and not a model.”

***

“I feel like I just watched a WWE match on pay-per-view,” Aberdeen overheard Justin say to Jason in a low voice as they trailed behind her in the parking lot (he sat beside Jason during the meal and had heard everything, but even if he hadn’t sat beside him, Aberdeen had a feeling he still would have heard). After the tacos were eaten, everybody decided to call it a night and go back to the hotel – well, mostly everyone. Saylor wanted to go out for drinks somewhere else in Malibu. Everybody else politely declined.

“Yeah, except it was pretty one-sided,” Jason said in an equally low voice. “It’s like Aberdeen was Stone Cold Steve Austin and Saylor was the poor jobber her stunnered every Monday night.”

“You picked up on the nose comment too, right? I mean she was basically telling Aberdeen to get a nose job?” Justin asked.

“Yup,” Jason popped the P sound.

“I thought I was going crazy when I heard it.”

“Yeah, me too. But from what I’ve heard from Jen I didn’t expect more from her.”

“It’s good that Aberdeen is mature. I think if it were me at 22, I would have lunged across the table,” Justin commented.

***

“Who’s Virginia Woolf?”

Aberdeen was lying naked in her hotel bed, tits out, with William lying by her side after he’d fucked her, and that was the question he asked. Aberdeen smiled. She loved William and she knew him – she really did, at least she liked to think – but sometimes she didn’t understand how his brain worked. She knew she liked to call him “Head Empty”, but sometimes she wasn’t so sure. He clearly had thoughts. He just brought them up at weird times. “She was a writer in the early 1900s,” she answered, laughing slightly.

“And you want to be like her?”

She shook her head. “I’d like my writing to be like her writing.”

“Why don’t you want to be like her?”

“She filled her pockets with rocks and committed suicide by drowning herself in the river behind her home,” she said, looking over at him. His face was blank, processing the information, and she smiled wider. “Maybe if my writing was like hers, I’d actually get published in Toronto Life or something.”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

Her smile faded. She hadn’t told him yet. She’d wanted to keep it to herself for as long as possible because she didn’t want to burden him with the news. “I did try. I sent in one of my personal essays and they rejected it. They sent me the email on my birthday.”

William remained silent. He saw the look on Aberdeen’s face and knew that she felt embarrassed and disappointed – in herself, in her writing. He wrapped an arm around her and propped himself up on his elbow so he could look down at her. “Minskatt…”

“Don’t, Willy. You’re going to make me cry.”

“No,” he shook his head, not accepting what she was saying. “After the Carolina game you told me I needed to talk more and that you’d listen. Well, you need to talk now and I’ll listen,” he said. “Talk to me, minskatt. I’m listening.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and it wasn’t because of her writing getting rejected anymore. It was because of the man hovering over her. His head may by empty, but Aberdeen was sure his heart was full of gold. She didn’t know how she got so lucky. She didn’t know how he was hers. “I just don’t know how much more rejection I can take,” she whispered. “I try and I try and I write and I write and I read so I can write better and nothing is working. Nothing,” her voice was shaky. “I just want an editor to read my writing and say ‘This is what I’ve been looking for all along.’ But that hasn’t happened yet. And I’m scared it’s never going to happen.”

“It’ll happen one day, minskatt. I promise you,” William encouraged as he tightened his grip around her with his one arm. “You’re so talented. Your dreams are going to come true and you’re going to look back and wonder why you ever doubted yourself.”

“Do you doubt me?” she asked suddenly.

“No,” William said without hesitation. “Not for a second.”

Aberdeen stayed silent, bringing a hand up to wipe the few tears that had fallen down the side of her face. She rested it on William’s forearm draped across her body. “When I get like this, all my insecurities come out. About my future, about everything. Maybe I was never destined to be a writer. Maybe I was destined to be a personal assistant or a bank teller. Maybe I was destined just to be normal girl with a big nose and nothing special.”

“How can you say you’re nothing special when you’re my treasure?” he asked, burying his face in the crook of her neck and placing a light kiss there. She couldn’t help but smile, and he smiled at the fact he made her smile. “That has to count for something, right minskatt?” he stressed the word.

She nodded. “It counts for everything.” She looked directly into his baby blues, barely blinking. “The second I leave here I’m going to plant the biggest kiss on your lips, Willy. You have absolutely no idea.”

That caused William to laugh out loud before he bent down and gave her a quick kiss. “Not if I beat you to it,” he said.

“You won’t. Trust me. God, I can hardly wait,” she said. “I still don’t know why you keep waiting for me.”

“Are you listening?” he asked.

“Mhm.”

“I wait for you because I love you. Because I love everything about you.”

“Even my big nose?”

“My favourite part of you,” he kissed the tip of it. She could have cried again. “It’s what makes you you. I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

When she craned her neck to kiss him, she made sure to wrap her arms around his body and pull him close, wanting to feel his body on top of hers. He got the hint, and stuck his tongue down her throat, and they kissed until he was hard again. Though he hadn’t expected a second round, he was more than willing to partake. He even made sure to bring extra condoms. He always did now – since Valentine’s Day. He had them everywhere: in his wallet, in his suitcase, in his shoe. “I love you minskatt,” he mumbled against her lips.

She didn’t respond at first. But when she did, it was with something he wasn’t expecting. “Tell me how you want me.”

He froze for a brief second, the previous conversation they were just having still fresh in his mind. “What?”

“Do you want me from behind? On top?” she asked in a breathy voice.

He groaned. “On top.”

They switched positions so he was lying on his back. Aberdeen climbed on top of him. “Willy?” she asked. “Can we…can we try something different?”

He nodded quickly. “What is it, Aberdeen?”

“Can we…” she began, almost a bit embarrassed. “Can I try reverse cowgirl?”

William couldn’t help but smile. “Of course,” he said, gripping at her hips.

“D’you have another condom?”

“My back pocket.”

She dismounted him, leaning over the bed to grab his pants on the floor and retrieve the packet. When she straddled him again, she did it so her back was to his face. He could feel her pump him a few times before she rolled on the condom, and he sighed at the feeling. She looked over her shoulder at him. “I love you, Willy.”

“I love you too,” he said, his hands back on her hips. He helped her lower herself onto him, the both of the moaning at the feeling. He loved watching himself disappear inside of her. He noticed she wasn’t moving yet. “You okay?” he asked.

Aberdeen nodded her head. “It feels so good,” she said. “I’ve never…you know…”

“It’s okay,” he said, understanding what she wasn’t saying. He couldn’t believe that her previous sexual partners were so selfish that they never let her explore what she liked or what she could possibly like or positions she could do. He shuddered at the thought of her potentially asking and being turned down. It made him angry just thinking about it. He didn’t want her to be that way with him. He wanted her to be completely open. “Do what you feel comfortable with, minskatt.”

She began rolling her hips back and forth. William groaned in response, and he could feel Aberdeen’s hands grip his thighs and her nails dig in slightly. As she rocked herself on his cock, she began to moan, gasping out anytime William would buck his hips slightly. He had to admit he liked the view, but what he liked even more was that she was enjoying herself on top of him, doing what she wanted.

“Willy?” she asked suddenly. She looked over her shoulder at him again. She looked so innocent and he knew that she meant to do it, and he almost exploded right then and there as she bat her eyelashes at him. “Can you…can you come up here?”

He did as he was told, pushing himself up and wrapping his arms around her body. He kissed her back and dragged his lips along her skin to her shoulder and neck. “What is it, minskatt?” he asked.

“What if I wanted to try more?”

If it was possible, William felt even hotter. The sound of her voice saying those words was…indescribable. “What do you mean?”

“You just make me feel so good. I’ve never had anybody make me feel this way. I feel so comfortable with you,” she said. “You…I feel safe to try things with you. Things I couldn’t try with other guys.”

He knew what she was getting at. He placed a tender kiss on her shoulder. “What do you want to try?” he asked. She remained silent, wondering if she should have even said anything. “Don’t be ashamed, minskatt. What do you want me to do?”

She hesitated. “D’you…can you pinch my nipples?”

He smiled because it was such a simple request. He brought his hands up and cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples between his thumb and index fingers. He felt her sharp intake of breath and her head leaned back into his shoulder. He could tell by her reaction that she wanted more. “What else?” he asked, biting down on her skin near her shoulder. “What are you not telling me?”

“That,” she stressed. He didn’t know what she meant. “The bite. You—You can fuck me, Willy. I want you to fuck me. You can be rougher with me. I think I’ll like it.”

When William heard those words and how she emphasized them, he wanted to make sure. Needed to make sure. The first time they had sex it was a good old-fashioned hookup. The second time they had sex they’d made love. In subsequent times since, it was mostly making love, if only because they had waited so long to finally be together and that was what they wanted to “release” – love. But now, with those words being said, he knew Aberdeen was ready to take the next step. She was willing to go further. She trusted him to go further with her, and only wanted to do it with him. “Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I trust you. Fuck me, Willy.”

He pinched her nipples again, harder this time, and she gasped. He started to move his hips too, moving inside of her, and she began to moan again. Without warning, he fell back down on the bed, bringing her with him so her back was flush against his chest, though her knees were still bent and he was still in her. This was definitely a new position for her, judging by her reaction – a quick “oh fuck” escaping her lips. He heard her breathing get heavier as she felt one of his hands snake down from her breasts and on to her clit. “Willy…” she moaned out.

He started pounding into her, using his athletic physique to be able to so with such force in a new angle she’d never felt before. Her moans fuelled him, and the moans changed to slight whimpers when he started rubbing at her clit. “Fuck, Willy…” she managed to get out.

But he wasn’t done. At least he didn’t want to be done. His other hand, still pinching her nipple, moved up to her neck. “Willy,” she mewled, bringing her own hand up and placing it over his.

“Is that okay?” he whispered into her ear. He wasn’t applying any pressure – it was just sort of there – but that was apparently enough for her. He wouldn’t have felt comfortable going further, anyway, at least without her verbalizing something.

“Yes Willy, fuck,” she arched her back. “Fuck me. Fuck me harder.”

He increased his pace. Her cries let him know that even with those simple actions, she was feeling pleasure. She was liking it. She was getting what she wanted from him. That was the only thing he wanted. “I want you to cum all over my cock, Aberdeen,” he growled into her ear. She didn’t answer, but when she arched her back again, he felt her walls tighten around his cock and he knew she was done. He let himself find his release too, groaning in pleasure as her body writhed on top of his. He didn’t stop rubbing her clit until her hand went over his to stop him. Her body went still as he slipped out of her and she fell to his side, trying to regain her breath.

After a couple of minutes, she curled around to face him. “I know that was probably really tame but it was new for me.”

William shook his head. He didn’t want her to feel nervous about anything. “Baby steps,” he kissed her.

“No guy has ever, like…asked what I like in the bedroom,” she admitted. “So I couldn’t explore things. Well I didn’t feel comfortable exploring things. But I know I can with you.”

William nodded his head. “Don’t worry, minskatt. We can start slow. No need to rush. You can tell me what you like and where you’re willing to go.”

“You too.”

“Hmm?”

“You tell me what you like and where you’re willing to go, and I’ll go there with you too.”

He nodded his head, smiling. “I love you.”

“I love you too. More than anything.”

183 notes · View notes