#i think shes warming to me.. i used to do some work for her but we've been doing a lot of work in parallel lately im gaining solidarity | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ronearoundblindly · 20 hours ago

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🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe thot about: CE!babe + “Sir, I think you misunderstood.”

I'm SO HONORED, you have no idea. 🧚‍♀️👸🏽❤️🪄🧚✨⚡️❤️‍🔥🧚‍♂️

*While this follows Super-Human Resources as a story, it is not necessary to read that to understand. Reader is female and 'older' but no specifics about her body or age are given. For context, you believe that you and Steve are f***-buddies and nothing more (he does not believe that).

Summary: Steve is more eager to than you realized...

A shameless fic deserves a shameless gif, don't you think? **Warnings for smut: unprotected sex (established consent/relationship) in a semi-public space, oral (m receiving), horny gremlin!Steve, and not a whole hell of a lot of editing utilized, folks... MINORS DNI. There's all-age friendly fic on my Light Masterlist, but not here. WC ~2k

Busy.

Busy day. Busy week. Busy month really, if you stop to think about it, but you can’t stop right now. There’s work to be done. Agents to clear, trainees to make agents, and it’ll be done as soon as you file these…

“Shit,” you mutter as Maria Hill is about to take the documents from you. You were almost done with this closed-door meeting. “Rogers hasn’t signed off on them yet.”

For the tiniest of split-seconds, Hill looks annoyed, her eyes half roll while she sighs. “He’s been just as slammed as all of us.” She doesn’t seem thrilled by the chaos of spring either. Say what you will about seasonal depression sucking, but there is a notable uptick in enemy aggression once the weather warms.

Does that make winter less crazy? No. What it does is make the internal workings of the Compound go bonkers until everyone can fight out there. In HR’s case, winter is the worst and busiest time. Busy. Busy. Busy.

Your off-hours understanding with Steve Rogers aside, there are few seasonal bright spots beyond actually liking your job.

You dial up Rogers’ number. It rings only once before he answers.

“Yes, ma’am, what can I help you with?”

He’s so sweet with you in private, and though diligent about keeping work strictly professional, you imagine you can tell the barest of warmth laced into the words.

“Sorry to bother, Captain—“

Hill slaps down a new file you’ve not seen yet.

“—but I need you—“ you cover the mic with your palm, whispering ‘and what’s this?’ but she waves you off “—to come down and…hello?”

The dial tone starts again.

“Hello? I think he just hung up on me.”

Hill simply shrugs. “Maybe even he’s at wit’s end,” she muses. “Just bring the rest to my office whenever, but I’ll need a review of this contract. The lawyers approve, but if you ask me they kept the wording too technical. We need a—let’s say a nicer spin on it.”

Fine. Toss it on the pile. In fact, that’s exactly what you do, move it from corner A to corner B of your desk.

Above you, Maria makes a shocked sort of chirping noise.

“Cap! You scared me there.”

“Sorry,” Steve huffs in the doorway, arms braced on either side of the frame. “Sorry. Sorry, I just—“ clearing his throat “—was already on this floor when you called, so…I’m here.”

His stealth training with Natasha really paid off. There was zero sound when he came in.

“Right, well, if you could—“

Steve holds up a finger. “Actually, I have something to ask…to discuss with…”

“I’ll bring them by your office later,” you offer Hill.

She nods and leaves, none the wiser to Rogers speedily (and silently) locking the door behind her.

You push out your chair to greet him, but Steve rounds the desk before the seat even rolls past touching your calves.

“I need you, too,” he husks, big hand gripping your waist, maneuvering you back against the wall. His mouth finds the tender spot below your ear immediately. “‘m glad you called.”

Oh.

Oh wow, he’s—

“Love when you wear these.” Steve drops to one knee, fingers dancing at the hem of your skirt and over the thin shield of your pantyhose.

He does love him some nylons, cheeky boy.

Good thing your office blinds were already closed, or the whole cubicle pool would see Captain America six inches from your crotch with a hand sneaking up your thigh.

“Sir,” you whimper in the suddenness of his desire, “I think you misunderstood.”

A flicker of questioning darts across Steve’s features.

“I actually just need you to sign those,” you clarify with a wave to the desk.

“Oh.” Steve presses his head into your leg for a second. “So not…?”

“Sex? Here? No, not what I called for,” you chuckle.

He gets up from the floor, looking embarrassed and guilty, a bulge in his pants betraying how seriously he intended to take you right there. It has been two weeks since you’ve gotten to sleep over. He was away on mission last weekend and who knows when he’ll be called up again. Shame to let that enthusiasm go to waste…

“But,” you drawl, creeping forward, your hand cupping him gently.

He stirs so easily at contact. Steve’s always been eager to ‘practice,’ to build prowess in knowing the female body, and he’s used yours to do it, but you never expected him to whine in desire.

Without waiting for more encouragement, he lowers his mouth to your neck again. “Yeah?”

His fingers use their rough friction to nudge your skirt up over your hips until he can run one digit along the waistband of your stockings.

You feel the fabric in your palm stretch tighter. Steve twitches.

“It’s okay to do this,” he breaths, “even if it’s uncalled for?”

The spider-walking of his touch down your stomach is deliberate. He’s giving you time to tell him you’re not interested or this isn’t the place, but you are, in fact, pretty interested and do not care if this is the place.

When no response comes as he finds your mound, Steve drags one finger through your folds. He lets a hot sigh roll across your skin in satisfaction of discovering the slick spot he can stoke back to life.

Ever since he first asked how he could please you, it’s been about Steve wanting to learn a woman’s pleasure, but his desire always seems incidental. He’ll come anyway. He’s getting off in addition. You get that; it’s the whole deal, but there are other lessons Steve, in particular, could learn. One of them is that he can be the focus, too.

Instead, he’s focused on holding back, apparently, because he bites his lip and doesn’t lean into your hand. He doesn’t pull away either. He moves to slip two fingers into you and curl them.

This leads you to a theory of why, though you’re surprised to have the brainpower. “Have you not…touched yourself in weeks?”

Steve grunts in annoyance. “I didn’t think it would be that long.”

“So—“ keeping your voice silky and sweet “—no need to edge yourself after all that.”

“Edge?” he asks.

Lessons, lessons, lessons.

“It’s called ‘edging’ or ‘delayed gratification,’ yeah.”

You can practically hear his thoughts as his eyes roam your body. Should he stop? Should he continue? Should he tough it out and wait the few hours till the workday is done? Steve is the type to think of denial as the height of self-control, so you don’t know which side he’ll land on when he’s needy with his finger on the button of satisfaction.

He can have it all, and he can have it right now. You tentatively roll his tender balls to prove a point, but that seems only to make his inner conflict worse, his brows knitting together, strained.

Until it doesn’t.

“No,” Steve says, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, staring at you feverishly. “No, I don’t want to delay anymore.”

To put him out of his misery, you offer your help, pulling his hand away, rolling down the layers in his way until mid-thigh (look, hose are a bitch to take off and put on, so at work, you’re improvising), and bending directly over your desk. Head turned to the side, you watch the shadow of him stepping up behind you, lowering the fly of his slacks and pumping his shaft until he’s hard.

All in total, it takes four seconds or so, but the performance of breaking the man’s character down to a lustful mess plays out an entire scene.

Steve squats down slightly to roll his cockhead through your folds and thrusts shallowly. The delicious stretch and rising fullness make your eyes flutter shut.

He’s always worth the wait. You’ll miss this when he’s done with you.

His feet spread apart as he kneads your ass and opens you wide.

“So good,” he groans. “Did you think of me? Did you touch yourself thinking of this?”

“Yes,” you gasp on a deep thrust.

If he’s expecting more words, he’s not getting them, not when the drag of him inside and out pools all your attention like a tide away from your brain.

The afternoon sun’s angle shows the silhouette of Steve stretching tall so he can fuck toward that spongy spot sending tingles all over your body, but just as soon as he sets a rhythm, he pulls out.

“Uh, no,” he moans, gripping his dick like it’s hurting him, “’s why I wanted my mouth on you first…so…so close.”

Steve’s ready to cum within minutes of sinking into your pussy. That’s a boost to your ego if there ever was one. However, he needs release, and from the look of his blown pupils, he needs it to be as intense as possible. He needs connection not just physically.

If Steve desires a more connective experience, you’ll have to give him eye contact.

Mirroring his starting position, you drop delicately to your knees in front of him, head inches away from your desktop.

“Oh god,” he whines from somewhere deep in his chest, but his eyes never leave you while your hand replaces his.

The first brush of your lips sends him lurching forward to grip the poor particleboard behind you, and you do blink long and languid at the musky taste of him.

His mouth hangs open, too, as you bob, taking only a few inches each time, focusing on the sensitive head. You make the tip of your tongue firm and pointed to draw patterns along veins you know by heart. His hips buck against his will, and though you can’t teach it him without words, this is called ‘fucking your face.’

It’s delightful to see the hazy blue of his eyes soften in wonder. It’s validation itself to hear him praise the sheer perfection of you.

“Shit,” Steve moans, “I—I—“ but he breaks off in a euphoric (and loud) exhale.

Cum begins to flood your throat and mouth, and there’s a rustle of something knocked over above you. A soft wad of tissues tucks under your chin just as the overflow breeches the corner of your lips.

“Too long. Waited too long. Sorry, should have warned you,” he admits brokenly. It is significantly more than usual, you note.

Steve pulls out to finish coming in his makeshift pad and tries to bat the box closer to you for more.

You rip out a few to spit in.

All-in-all, you’re pleased to have such a wild affect on a man, and Steve is not just any man at that.

He takes all the tissues and buries them under some papers in your trashcan. He collects himself, zipping his dignity back into place while you shimmy up your tights and panties.

Steve then pulls you into his chest, leaving a gentle kiss as the last taste on your lips. “I’ll give you back threefold tonight, okay?” he assures, low and intimate. “Sorry, I got…overexcited.”

He releases you from the hug.

“Well, I’ll only be there at a decent hour if you sign these damn papers, Captain.”

Steve looks confused, eyes darting to the stack he luckily did not tip off the edge of your desk. It takes another four seconds for him to remember that there was a real reason he was called.

“Yes, ma’am, right away, but also—” he scrunches his nose “—I’m just going to crack this because—“ Steve doesn’t bother completing the thought. He simply props the window open at the lowest notch. Across the small room, he stares at you smoothing a hand over your hair, beaming.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Goofy. Honest. Adorable.

“It’s a good line, Cap,” you chuckle then double tap the stack of forms.

He rushes over, ever the fast-learner, ever the eager participant, ever ready (usually) to get down to business.

Busy. Busy. Busy.

Thank god it’s Friday.

a/n: is it acceptable?

[Main Masterlist; Steve Rogers One-Shots; Ko-Fi]

@Supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries @veryprairieberry @bitchy-bi-trash @rogersbarber @blogbog710 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thiquefunlover63 @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @stellar-solar-flare

#ro answers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader smut #steve x reader #steve x you #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you

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selfloverrrrrr · 1 day ago

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PLEASE PLEASE write a dubcon(?) fic about seemingly innocent reader slowly and subtly seducing Priest Gojo whenever she goes to church. One day, her family stays at the church for a little while (for a church gathering), she excused herself from her family (saying that she needs some air), but really she followed Priest Gojo into his room and manipulates him into thinking that doing the dirty with her is okay because it'll only happen once. She locks the door and they do the dirty, she tightens her legs around Gojo's waist so he can't pull out when he came. thank you in advance!!

The sin

Warnings : Priest Gojo, manipulative reader, smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, dubcon, manipulation, cuming inside, P in V, biting, size difference....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Gojo's POV

This is sin! this is sin! this is sin! I told myself. But this is not even my fault. It's just that girl. Her name is y/n. She does that every time she comes to the church. She knows what she's doing. She kneels at the pew, hands clasped together in mock reverence, but her eyes are on me. Do i realise I'm the one being tempted?

Her skirt rides up just a little when she shifts in her seat. Not enough to be indecent, but just enough for my eyes to flicker toward her—just for a second. A second too long. Oh god forgive for starting. That's also a sin. She's trying to play a dangerous game.

“Lost sheep often stray from the path,” I said with steady voice, but there’s an edge to it now, as if I'm speaking just to her. She tilted her head, lips parting in a smirk. “Then it’s a good thing you’re here to guide me… Father.” she said almost..... seductive tone. She's doing it again.

My jaw tenses. She's patient, careful—each visit to the church. A soft touch when I handed her a Bible, fingers lingering a beat too long. A confessional whispered just a little too breathy. A soft bite of her lip when she said "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned".... And I looked in the other direction.

Y/n's POV

It starts small. A touch too sweet, a gaze too long, a confession too sinful. “I’ve been having… impure thoughts, Father,” I whisper in the confessional, trying my best sound innocent. “I don’t know what to do.” On the other side of the wooden lattice, I heard him shift. Even without seeing him, I know he’s tensing, his fingers curling in his lap.

“Temptation is natural,” he says, voice smooth but slightly strained. “The Lord teaches us discipline. You must resist.” I lowered my voice, almost a whisper.....but loud enough for him to listen. “But what if I don’t want to resist?”. Silence. Heavy, charged, and oh-so-dangerous. I smirked. Maybe it's working?

The next Sunday, I wore. I approach communion, standing before him as he lifts the wafer. My lips part obediently, but instead of taking it into my hands, I let him place it on my tongue, my lips brushing the tips of his fingers.

A sharp inhale. A hesitation that lasts barely a second, but I saw it. The way his Adam’s apple bobs, the way his gaze darkens before he corrects himself. I swallowed slowly, maintaining eye contact as I whispered, “Amen.”

And when I kneel back at my pew, I didn't miss the way his hands tighten into fists, as if in silent prayer—praying, perhaps, for the strength not to sin. A small smirk appeared on my lips. But I knew, deep down, that soon enough… he will.

After two weeks

They had a gathering in the church. My family was there that night as well. I excused me telling them I needed some air. The church gathering is warm with flickering candlelight, soft murmurs of conversation, and the scent of incense curling through the air. My family is still inside, engaged in discussion with the others, unaware that I've followed him.

Father Gojo walks ahead, his long white cassock flowing behind him as he moves toward his private quarters. He doesn’t notice me at first, too lost in his own thoughts. But when the door creaks shut behind him and the lock clicks, he turns, startled. I lean against the heavy wooden door, my lips curling into something between innocence and something else.

“Little lamb,” he says, voice laced with warning. “What are you doing here?”. I stepped closer, slow, deliberate. “I needed to talk to you, Father. Alone.” His blue eyes narrow slightly, his usual playful demeanor guarded now. “You should go back. Your family is waiting.” But I didn't move. Instead, I take another step forward, my fingers grazing the wooden desk beside me. “I don’t think I can.”

He exhales, as if already sensing the danger. “You should.” I cut off his sentence “But I don’t want to.” I replied. The words are simple, but they hang between us like a curse. His jaw tightens, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “This isn’t right.” I tilted my head, eyes glimmering with something wickedly persuasive. “Just once,” I whisper. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Gojo is strong. He is trained in resisting temptation, in guiding the lost back onto the righteous path. But I knew whatever I did it’s enough to make him falter. “We can confess after,” I breathe, stepping close enough that my body nearly presses against his. “God forgives, doesn’t He?” A muscle in his jaw twitches. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

I smiled. “Then stop me.” He doesn’t. My smirk deepens. My fingers trail up, ghosting over the collar of his cassock, the stark white fabric a cruel contrast against the dark intentions lacing the air. Gojo doesn’t pull away. He knows he should. But he doesn’t. Instead, his hands come to my waist—hesitant at first, then firmer. As if he’s gripping onto the last shred of control he has left.

“Once,” he mutters, almost to himself, as if saying it aloud makes it true. I nodded with a smirk. And when his lips finally crash against mine, when he lifts me and took me to his bed. Almost dragged me. Oh he’s already lost. He pushed me on the bed and deepened the kiss. Kissing me as if his life depends on this.

When he pulled away he was breathing heavily. Gasping for Air. "Oh ......oh god forgive me...... forgive me for what I'm.... I'm about to do....." He said between heavy breaths while taking off his cassock. Then he took off his shirt. His toned body flexes against the warm candle lights.

I always admired his height. But never thought he had that well toned body. Looking at his body is already enough to make me wet. "Take off your clothes" his voice broke my staring. "Huh?" I replied looking at his eyes again. "What? Did you change your mind?" He asked. "Oh ...no..." I said and unbuttoned my dress and took it off.

He grabbed the back of my bra and unclipped it in a second and crashed his mouth on my boobs. Giving it wet mouthed kisses and sucking on the nipples breathlessly. Did I make him that much excited? "Fuck!" A chocked moan came out of my mouth as my head fell back and my hand grabbed his hair.

He pressed down his hips on my thighs for some relief as he heard my moan. And I felt that. He was rock hard. Oh he really is too excited. He trailed wet kisses down towards my stomach. Then stopped. Staring at my panties. His hand reached to take off my panties. His hand was shaking.

He slowly took off my panties. He was staring. Then he closed his eyes shut. "Oh god god god .... please forgive me! Please forgive me! Please forgi-" before he could complete his sentence I cut him off by grabbing his pectoral cross and pulling him close. His face was inches away from mine.

He's staring at me. He's still breathing heavily. "You should ask for forgiveness..... after you do the sin" I whispered in his ear and slid down my right hand inside his pants. I was shocked by the length and the thickness. I wrapped my fingers around his dick and stroked it. He moaned so loudly in my ear.

"does it feel good?.... it'll feel even better if you put it inside me" I whispered. His hand reached down and unzipped his pants. His pants fell on the floor. He lined up. His hands were still shaking. I jerked my hips forward and his tip pushed inside. "FUCK!!" he almost screamed. Then his hip jerked forward and pushed the rest of the length inside.

His head fell behind. Mouth wide open. Eyes rolled back. Of course his first time in this. He'll feel that pleasure.... He started thrusting. His length was stretching me to my limit. I grabbed the bedsheet tightly. His dick was too deep inside me. I never felt like this. It feels so good. Too much good.

"f-fuck.... you're so thight......oh god.....so warm....wet... h-huh... feels so good" he managed to say between moans and thrust. He pressed down his body on mine. My hands gripped his back as he started thrusting faster. "Oh my-..... harder.... P-Please harder....huhhh" I moaned in his ears.

He started thrusting at an animalistic speed. The room filled with the sounds of moan, groan, calling each other's name and wet skin slapping sounds. His hand reached down and started rubbing circles on my clit. Pleasure filled me at the same time I was shocked that this man knows how to please a woman? Within a minute pleasure overflowed and I came.

A chocked moan came out of his mouth as he felt me cumming. My walls squeezed tightly around his length. I felt his length pulsing inside me. He was about to pull out to cum outside but I wrapped my legs around his hips tightly and pulled him close. I hugged him tightly as I felt he was cumming.

"NO NO NO NO WAIT-" he panicked. I felt his pulse the last drop of his cum. I unwrapped my legs. He pulled out immediately. "NO NO NO NO NO THIS CAN'T BE!!!! OPEN YOUR LEGS! LET IT OUT! PLEASE!" He said panicked kneeling down in front of my legs. I crossed my legs close and sat up. Gojo was looking at me with pleading eyes.

I grabbed his chin. "Look, father.... A charming, tall, hot guy like you shouldn't be a priest...... I waited for this sooooo long." I said then leaned towards his face. "You have two choices. Whether you leave all this and be mine......or I'll go out right now tell everyone what we did.... and I'll tell that you forced on me.... think about your reputation.... and I know you are too famous in this city" I said. His eyes widened..in fear? I gave his a kiss and after all this he still didn't pull away? A smirk formed on my lips.

Give me your requests guys....

I love when you give me your requests 💕

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v-eee · 2 days ago

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── jungkook x you

scenario: you and Jungkook used to be best friend until new female staff came into his workplace, Jieun. He has introduced you to her. Jungkook starts getting busy with his work and often cancel the usual food hunting night with you because he needs to work overtime with Jieun. You know Jieun doesn't like you because she has come to your cafe a few times and told you to stop texting Jungkook during his work hour. when you told him about that, he didn't believe you. Starting that day your friendship is not like it used to be.

(x)

It had basically become a running joke—no matter where you went, Jungkook would just… show up. Every city, every café, every Airbnb. Like it was totally normal.

At first, you thought it was just him being stubborn. But after a few weeks, it became clear—he wasn’t going to stop.

Honestly, you were starting to think he enjoyed the long drives more than actually seeing you.

And every time he showed up, he somehow ended up crashing at your place. It happened so often that even your coworkers at the café started noticing.

“You guys sure you’re just friends?” one of them asked, eyeing Jungkook as he leaned lazily against the counter, waiting for you to finish your shift.

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously.”

“Uh-huh,” another one chimed in. “Because totally normal ‘friends’ drive six hours just to hang out.”

Jungkook smirked, nudging you. “Yeah, Y/N. What kind of friend does that?”

You shot him a look. “The annoying kind.”

He just chuckled.

___

One night, after a long shift, you called Jungkook just to chat. You weren’t feeling great, and the second he heard you cough, he immediately switched to full-on drama mode.

“Jeez, Y/N, you sound like a grandpa who’s been chain-smoking since dinosaurs existed.”

“Wow, thanks. That’s super comforting.”

“Did you take medicine?”

“Not yet. I’ll get some tomorrow.”

Apparently, that wasn’t an acceptable answer. Because the next day, while you were curled up in bed, there was an obnoxiously loud knock at the door.

You dragged yourself over, opened it, and—

“What the— Jeon Jungkook?!”

There he stood, looking way too proud of himself, holding a bag full of medicine, snacks, and—was that a hot water bottle shaped like a bear?

He breezed past you like he owned the place, dumping the bag on the table. “You sounded like death last night, so I took half a day off to bring you this.”

You blinked at him. “You drove two hours… just to bring me medicine?”

“Yup.”

“Jungkook,” you groaned, “that’s such a waste of time! I could’ve just bought it myself.”

He gasped, clutching his chest. “A waste of time? Wow.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“And let you avoid me for a week? No thanks.”

You paused, narrowing your eyes. “What?”

“You do this every time. The moment you get sick, you start avoiding me like I’m the plague because you’re scared I’ll catch it.”

You flopped onto the couch, exhausted. “Well, yeah?” you frowned. “I don’t want you getting sick.”

“I don’t care if I get sick, Y/N,” he muttered. “I just don’t like it when you avoid me.” He sat beside you, handing you a warm bottle of tea.

Your chest tightened.

You knew Jungkook wasn’t a fan of distance. But you never realized it actually bothered him when you avoided him while sick.

You sighed as you took the bottle from his hand. “It’s just a cold.”

“I know,” he murmured, pouting. “But… I guess I’m scared I’ll lose you.”

Your heart did a weird little flip.

“…You’re not gonna lose me, idiot,” you muttered.

Jungkook stared at you for a moment, his usual cocky grin softening into something… real.

“Good. Now take the damn medicine before I force-feed it to you.”

You groaned. “And there it is.”

“Dead people don’t complain, Y/N. Take. The. Pills.”

You swatted his hand away as he tried to open the bottle for you, but deep down, you knew.

This wasn’t just friendship anymore.

And maybe, just maybe… you didn’t mind that at all.

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moonybelgug · 2 days ago

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warnings: fem!reader, children lmao, not much really, being referred to as 'mother', no smut, some drunken flirting. building relationships with the kids. i took so long to do this part...... sorries.,, part 1 part 2

After a month of getting your affairs in order, you’d like to think you’ve made some semblance of a job out of your situation. You started with watching Arlecchino, figuring out what it was that she did that made her the “Father.” It turns out, that was simply not showing emotion to the children and holding them to high expectations. But trying to convince them to open up to you was aimless, seeing as most of them had been taught that emotions were weakness, (you’re going to work on that later,) and do not even trust you to begin with. So you began in the kitchen. As much as you are not a cook, you know your way around some beloved childhood recipes, and so you helped the kitchen staff learn more homely food. Rather than something bland and fancy for breakfast, you give them the recipe to pancakes and you visit each child to ask what they would like their’s topped with. Lunches became a build your own sandwich buffet, which was met with more excitement that you anticipated and dinners stayed the same for the most part- protein and veggies. However, your presence alone comforted scared and picky kids to try new and scary foods they wouldn’t have before (and you snuck them something you knew they’d like afterward.)

It was a long day, but you had managed to lead the last group of kids to eat, the rest of them were either in the showers or in bed. You stood in the doorway of the dining hall, arms crossed as you watch them eat and chatter. A warm presence sidled up next to you, your arms brushing against each other. You saw less of Arlecchino than you had expected. She was also less involved with the children, or at least, from what you could see. You truly had no idea what she really did, you knew she was a harbinger and very strong but you couldn’t begin to fathom what she did outside these walls. You didn’t really want to.

“Good evening, Father, are you joining us for dinner?” You ask her as she brushes against you.

She hums thoughtfully, as though considering it as she always does. “Not tonight. But thank you for the invitation, Mother.”

You can’t help but blush and hope she didn’t see it. The way she says your title.. it feels as though she is purring it, tasting it in her mouth before speaking it. Arlecchino looks down at you from the visage of her children eating. “They are happier since you had arrived. How did you manage that in only a month?”

“I’m not sure myself,” you say, feeling warm under her gaze. “I just.. I tried to live up to my name. I can’t help but want to know them all, even if a few of them scare me.” Though, none have threatened your life, seeing such young people with weapons is never a reassuring sight.

Arlecchino laughs and turns to walk into the main entrance room, away from the dining hall. You cast another glance at the children before following her.

She’s walking into the foyer, reaching for her coat. “Did I not scare you when we first met?” She asks, pulling her hair from the back of the gray jacket.

“Maybe a tad. But that’s because of how I was raised, you know that,” you say, pouting a little. She tuts, reaching for your cheek to pinch before she thinks about it and pulls away..

“Still so cute. You scared me too, you know. All bright eyed and excited, talking my ear off about things I couldn’t give a damn about. Reaching through that fence to try and touch me…” she sighs and shakes her head. “I’ll be gone for a while. I’ll see you again soon, I’m sure.”

Before she gets too far out of the entrance, she hears you sigh disapprovingly. “Playing the absent father, are we?” It makes her chuckle.

Thunder sounds all around you, shaking the Hearth and startling you from your sleep. Thunder was never a pleasant experience, but you wouldn’t say you feared it. But that was just your experience. There was a gentle knock at the your bedroom door.

You wrap a robe around yourself, wondering who could be knocking at this hour and open the door a crack to see who was there and were met with tens of other eyes, all stricken with fear. You open your door all the way, unsure what to say at first in the face of these frightened children. Many of them were younger, but there were a few older ones among them, looking sheepish.

“Well.. come along, if you’re coming,” you say, watching seven children file in.

It’s not long before you’re kicked out of bed by squirming children. You don’t mind so much, it was getting to hot to even sleep, much less with a bunch of squirming limbs poking you in the side this way and that. You take a trip to the bathroom, then out the window you see the rain has loosened up a bit, it’s still coming down but less so than before, and the thunder is all but distant rumbles.

You rub on the window, removing some of the fog and just happen to see a tall figure approaching the Hearth. Who on Teyvat could be visiting at this hour? You move to look at the clock ticking in the hallway. It’s midnight. Nobody in their right mind would journey all the way through the storm just to make an unplanned visit… unless they were attempting to enter without permission.

You race downstairs in bare feet, your nightgown and making you appear threatening as ever. You make it to the door before they do, so you grab an iron poker from the fireplace as your weapon. Stealthily, you move beside the door, waiting quietly for it to click open so you can bash in whoever is trying to get in. This moment leads you to think about how there’s little to no security and it makes you shake your head. Perhaps the Fatui’s reputation doesn’t scare everyone away.

The doorknob clicks and then turns, opening slowly. You raise the fire poker above your head and prepare to bludgeon this person, but as you bring it down, the intruder catches it and pins you against the wall beside the door. She laughs, covering in water from the rain, shaking her head unceremoniously. You squint as a few drops land on your cheek.

“Per- What are you doing!?” You all but yell, remembering there are people sleeping.

Arlecchino kicks the door shut with her boot. “If I let you go, promise you won’t stab me?”

You roll your eyes and she lets you go. “I had to return to retrieve something. Didn’t think I’d bother anybody coming at night, but it seems I was mistaken.”

Arlecchino stands up straight. She’s wearing something completely different from when you saw her only five hours ago, her cheeks are even flushed as though she had been drinking.

“What did you forget? I can fetch it for you,” you offer, lowering you weapon to hold by your hips.

Arlecchino taps on her bottom lip, as though considering her options. “Dinner? Or maybe a spar, since you seem so apt to attack unknown trespassers. Or, maybe some of those kisses you used to give.” She grins, leaning into the juncture of your neck and jaw, running the tip of her nose down to your collar bone.

She was definitely drunk. If that line didn’t tell you, the wine on her breath did.

“Father, perhaps you should lie down-“

“Doooon’t call me that,” she groans, her palm coming to her forehead as if it gave her an instant migraine. “Call me anything but not that. In fact, call me Peruere again, hm?”

Her arms encircle your waist before her hands settle on your hips. She gives your nightie a passing glance before lifting her eyes to yours. “So? What’ll it be?” She asks with a smirk. You assume she’s talking about the options of what she wants from you. The kitchens are closed down and you’re definitely not fighting her, so it seems you’re left with one option.

“If I kiss you, will you cooperate and tell me what you’re doing here?”

“I swear, on my title as a harbinger,” she grins.

You sigh, looking at her rosy complexion and then you lean in, kissing her gently on the cheek. She tilts her head leaning into it, closing her eyes. Her head turns slightly, your lips glancing over each other. You can’t help your blush as you pull away but her arms tug you closer. You brace yourself at her shoulders and create some distance. She’s clearly wasted and far be it from you to allow this to go further than it already has. You catch her inhaling the scent of your hair.

“Peruere, what is it you came here for?”

She doesn’t answer for a while, her eyes avoiding yours. You never could read those dark eyes, and you never notice how they pull you in, like a magnet. Standing up straight, she takes your left hand, running her thumb across your knuckles before stilling at your ring finger. Her nail digs into the diamond before she releases your hand, leaving you warm. “Apologies, Mother,” she says coldly. Suddenly sober, she lets you go, adjusting her clothes. “I should see you soon. Don’t forget your duties.”

Before you can argue with her about that retort, she leaves, shutting the door firmly.

The next morning you wake up feeling hot with a heavy weight on your chest, before you remember what happened last night. It’s still raining outside, but it seems that Celestia had calmed down.

But you jump all the same when your door suddenly flies open. A maid stands there, holding a case, but her eyes widen at the sight of four children laying on your bed and three laying underneath and your helpless face being the only part of you she can see.

“Your… finacè is here to see you,” she says softly.

#moonywrites⋆˖☾₊‧⁺˖⋆#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #arlecchino x female reader #arlecchino x you #arlecchino x y/n #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino genshin #its giving sound of music #divider by cafekitsune

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bktempted · 3 days ago

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Her voice. You can’t get it out of your head. You’ve been pacing your apartment all evening, restless, the familiar itch building between your thighs. It’s been like this for weeks now — your body refusing to cooperate unless you hear her voice. Your best friend. She’s oblivious, of course, always happy to pick up when you call, her tone warm and easy, like she’s got nowhere else to be. You love that about her. You love a lot of things about her, but lately, it’s the thrill of what you do while she’s on the line that’s got you hooked.

You grab your phone, thumb hovering over her number. One tap, and it’s ringing. Your pulse picks up, a steady thrum in your chest, and you shift your weight, already feeling that heat pooling low in your belly. She answers on the second ring.

“Hey! Was just thinking about you,” she says, her voice bright, cutting through the quiet of your room. “How’s your day been?”

“Oh, you know, same as always,” you reply, keeping your tone light, casual, even as you sink onto the couch and let your free hand drift down to the waistband of your leggings. “Just wanted to hear how you’re doing. Work still a pain?”

She laughs — a sharp, quick sound. “Yeah, you could say that. My boss had me redo this whole presentation today. I swear, she’s trying to kill me.”

You hum in response, listening, your fingers slipping beneath the fabric now, brushing against yourself. You’re already slick, embarrassingly so, and it’s only been a minute. Her voice does that to you — unravels you without even trying. You press a little harder, biting your lip to keep the sound from spilling out.

“What about you?” she asks, oblivious. “Anything exciting happen?”

“No, not really” you manage, your voice tighter than you’d like. You shift the phone against your ear, trapping it between your shoulder and cheek as you work yourself a little faster. “Tell me more — how’d that presentation turn out?”

She launches into a detailed breakdown, something about charts and deadlines, but the words blur together. All you can focus on is the rhythm of her voice, the way it dips and rises, the little huffs of frustration she lets out. Like she’s performing for you — showing you all the sounds she can make.

Your breath hitches, and you clamp your lips shut, swallowing the moan that threatens to escape. You wonder, not for the first time, if she’ll notice — if she’ll pause mid sentence and call you out. But she doesn’t. She just keeps talking, and you keep rubbing, chasing that edge.

“You still there?” she says suddenly, and your heart lurches.

“Yeah — yeah, I’m here,” you say, too quick, your voice a little shaky. “Just, uh, stretching. Leg cramp.”

“God, I get that. Sitting all day is the worst.” She sounds so normal, so unaffected, and it drives you wild — the contrast between her innocence and what you’re doing. You’re close now, so close, but one hand isn’t enough anymore. You need more.

“Hold on a sec,” you mutter, fumbling with the phone. You tap the speaker button and toss it onto the cushion beside you, freeing both hands. The sound of her voice fills the room now, louder, closer, like she’s right there with you. “Sorry, just getting comfy.”

“No worries,” she says, and you hear the faint clink of a glass on her end — she’s probably pouring herself some water. You picture her in her kitchen, leaning against the counter, completely unaware. It’s too much.

You tug your leggings down just enough, spreading your legs wider, and now both hands are at work — one circling, the other dipping inside. The wet sounds are unmistakable, loud in the stillness of your apartment, and panic flickers in your chest. She’ll hear. How can she not? You force yourself to speak, to cover it.

“So, uh — any weekend plans?” Your voice is strained, but you pray she doesn’t notice. The squelching gets louder, and you shift, trying to muffle it against the couch, but it’s no use.

“Probably just hanging out at home,” she says, casual as ever. “You should…come…over”

“Ahh — that sounds nice.” you breathe, too soft to be a real answer, but it slips out anyway as your fingers hit just the right spot. Did she say it like that on purpose? No, there’s no way. Your thighs tremble, and you tip your head back, eyes squeezing shut. You’re there, teetering, waiting for her.

“You okay? Anything I can do to help?”

“No — just — ahh, it’s okay — just reaching for something” you gasp, and then it hits, a sharp, shuddering wave that locks your whole body up. You bite down hard on your lip, stifling the cry, but a small, desperate sound escapes anyway — a whine you can’t take back. Your hands slow, slick and trembling, as you ride it out, her voice still in the background.

“I should probably let you go. Sounds like you’re finishing something up over there,” she says, and there’s something in her tone now — a lilt, a knowing edge you can’t be sure of. But you’re probably just imagining it, projecting through the haze of your release. No need to get paranoid.

“Yeah, you know me, always multitasking.” you pant, forcing a laugh. “But hey, same time tomorrow?”

“Of course,” then her voice lowers, softening, curling around the words, “as long as you promise to be a good listener.”

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fudgeez · 2 days ago

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Chapter 2: Whispers and Walls

Synopsis: Y/N endures bullying and isolation, refusing help from Wonyoung and Yujin, who are both intrigued by her hidden past. Her resolve to remain independent clashes with their attempts to control and understand her, creating tension and hinting at deeper conflicts.

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Months passed, and Y/N became a constant topic of gossip among the students. Some spread rumors, while others continued to bully her discreetly, avoiding Karina’s attention.

They didn’t want to risk expulsion from WQ University, knowing Karina’s family held significant influence, even beyond her position as student council secretary.

Y/N, however, remained silent, enduring the treatment. She was determined to avoid a repeat of her past, even if it meant suffering in silence. This frustrated Chaewon, who wanted to inform Karina, but Y/N threatened to cut her off if she did.

Chaewon, with her circle of popular friends, was often questioned about their friendship with Y/N. They wondered if Y/N had blackmailed or threatened them. In reality, Chaewon genuinely liked Y/N like a sister. Eventually, Chaewon’s friends began to treat Y/N as one of their own. Despite Y/N’s attempts to push them away, they were persistent, creating an odd dynamic where Y/N tolerated their presence like a group of overbearing children.

“Y/N unnie, aren’t you joining us for lunch?” Eunchae, the youngest of the group, asked Y/N, who remained seated in the library. They were working on a group activity due next week.

“I need to finish this part,” Y/N replied, scanning the books on her table. “But it’s not due until next week, unnie,” Kazuha whined, leaning on Y/N’s shoulder.

“I don’t have any food, so you guys go ahead,” Y/N said. They all shook their heads, causing Y/N to facepalm.

“How about this? Give me peace today, and I’ll consider joining your sleepover this Saturday, deal?” Y/N negotiated.

The five girls’ eyes widened, as they had been asking Y/N to a sleepover for months, but she always refused. They couldn’t contain their squeals.

“QUIET!” the librarian yelled, prompting Y/N to bang her head on the table. “Don’t do that, aish!” Sakura scolded, and Yunjin nodded in agreement.

“Deal?” Y/N asked, wanting to return to her books. “You have 30 minutes before your next subjects.”

They all nodded and left, leaving Y/N in peaceful solitude, unaware she was being watched.

Realizing she needed more information, Y/N headed to the biology section. She ignored the sidelong glances and whispers following her, searching for a specific book hidden in the restricted section.

A group of students passed by, whispering about Y/N.

“She’s so weird,” one said.

“I think she’s just using Le Sserafim.”

“I heard she’s adopted and has a cruel past,” another added, their voice laced with condescension.

Y/N’s shoulders tensed, but she pretended to continue her search.

Suddenly, “What if I report you to guidance for smoking in the library?” she said, her voice gentle but firm.

The students, recognizing Wonyoung, quickly dispersed. Y/N looked up, remembering Wonyoung was Karina’s fellow student council member, a role model at WQ, known for her positive mindset, but also her strictness.

Wonyoung turned to Y/N. “I think this is the book you’re looking for,” she said with a warm smile. Y/N examined the book before accepting it.

Wonyoung noticed a faint scar on Y/N’s wrist, partially hidden by her wristwatch, and frowned. This didn’t escape the notice of another observer.

“Ms. President, they're waiting for you in the meeting,” an assistant said.

The president glanced at the assistant, then nodded, before looking back at the two girls. She made a mental note to ask Wonyoung later.

"Are you alright, Y/N?" Wonyoung asked, her voice soft, her eyes lingering on the scar.

"It's nothing," Y/N replied, "Just an old accident." Wonyoung's smile didn't waver, but her eyes held a deeper, more probing look.

"If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask," Wonyoung added. Y/N simply nodded, attempting to return to her table when she noticed Wonyoung following her.

"Thanks, but like I said to my sister, I can handle myself," Y/N stated, her voice laced with a subtle warning.

Wonyoung was momentarily stunned by Y/N's raspy voice and the intoxicating scent she wore, a cloud that seemed to envelop Wonyoung. She couldn't help but bite her lip before following Y/N again and settling into the chair opposite her at the table.

Y/N arched her eyebrows. "You know, you're just attracting more attention to me," she said, her annoyance evident as she noticed the students' gazes fixed on their table.

Having the vice president sit beside her made her feel claustrophobic. Wonyoung merely shrugged. "Don't mind them," she said, picking up a book from Y/N's table and pretending to read.

"Don't mind them?" Y/N repeated, her voice rising slightly.

"That's easy for you to say. You're the vice president. You probably thrive on this kind of attention. I, however, prefer my social space to be… well, mine." She emphasized the last word, hoping Wonyoung would get the hint.

Wonyoung lowered the book, her eyes meeting Y/N's. "I'm not here for attention, Y/N. I'm here because… I wanted to be." She paused, her gaze softening. "Besides, I find your company quite stimulating."

"Stimulating?" Y/N scoffed. "You mean annoying. Look, I get it. You're trying to be nice, or whatever. But I don't need a babysitter. Or a shadow. I'm perfectly capable of existing without your constant presence."

"I never said you weren't," Wonyoung replied, her voice smooth.

"But perhaps I enjoy being 'annoying.' Perhaps I enjoy disrupting your perfectly curated solitude." She leaned forward, her smile widening.

"Besides, you haven't told me about your scar yet. A story that interesting deserves to be heard."

"There's no story," Y/N said, her voice flat. "Just a clumsy accident."

"Everyone has a story, Y/N," Wonyoung countered, her eyes gleaming. "And I intend to hear yours." She returned to her book, a silent declaration that she wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

Y/N sighed, realizing she wouldn’t get any peace until Wonyoung decided to move.

Just as Y/N was about to resign herself to Wonyoung's presence, Kazuha burst back into the library, her face flushed.

"Unnie! I forgot my bag!" she exclaimed, grabbing it from under the table.

She paused, noticing Wonyoung. "Oh, Vice President!" she said, her eyes widening slightly. Wonyoung's smile, while still warm, held a flicker of something possessive as she watched Kazuha, a silent warning in her eyes.

"Hello, Kazuha," Wonyoung replied, her smile almost too bright. Once Kazuha was gone, Wonyoung turned back to Y/N, her expression thoughtful.

"You seem to value your 'safe space' so much, yet you surround yourself with Le Sserafim. Why them?" she asked, her voice laced with a subtle curiosity.

Y/N paused, considering her words. "They're… persistent," she said finally, a hint of amusement in her voice. "And they don't ask questions I don't want to answer. They just… are. And sometimes, that's enough." She looked at Wonyoung, her gaze unwavering.

"Unlike some people." Wonyoung's smile tightened, a hint of steel beneath the sweetness.

"Patience is a virtue, Y/N. And I have an abundance of it," Wonyoung said, her smile a thin, almost predatory line. Y/N met her gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken challenge. The library, once a sanctuary, now felt charged with an unsettling tension.

Later, as Y/N walked to her next class, a group of students, the same ones Wonyoung had dispersed earlier, blocked her path. Their leader, a girl with a sneer permanently etched on her face, stepped forward. "Well, well, if it isn't the nerd," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Thought you were too good for us, hanging out with the vice president."

Y/N remained silent, her expression impassive. "What? Cat got your tongue?" another student jeered, shoving her shoulder. Y/N stumbled, but quickly regained her balance.

"Just move," Y/N said, her voice low and even.

"Or what?" the leader challenged, a cruel glint in her eyes. "You gonna run to your big sister again? Or maybe call your new bestie, the vice president?"

Before Y/N could respond, a cup of juice arced through the air, splashing over her uniform, the sticky liquid soaking her clothes.

"Loser!"

someone shouted, and the group erupted in laughter. Y/N clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to retaliate, to wipe the smug grins off their faces, but she knew that would only escalate the situation.

She simply turned and headed towards the restroom, ignoring the taunts and laughter echoing behind her. As she entered the restroom, she could hear the whispers following her, the cruel amusement in their voices. Y/N quickly stripped off her soiled uniform, rinsing it under the sink. She knew she couldn't go to class like this.

Suddenly, Wonyoung appeared beside her, holding a neatly folded uniform. "Here," she said, offering it to Y/N. "It's a spare. I always keep one in my locker."

Y/N hesitated, her eyes narrowing. "No, thank you," she said, her voice firm. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't want to be more of a target than I already am."

Wonyoung's smile was soft, but her eyes held a determined glint. "Don't worry about them," Wonyoung said, her voice low and reassuring. "Wearing my uniform won't make you a target. It'll send a message."

"A message that I'm dependent on you?" Y/N retorted, her eyes hardening. "No, thanks. I'll pass." She turned back to the sink, attempting to salvage her ruined uniform.

Wonyoung's smile tightened, a flicker of irritation sparking in her eyes. "You're being unreasonable, Y/N. This isn't about dependency; it's about practicality."

"Practicality?" Y/N scoffed, wringing out the soaked fabric. "Practicality would be leaving me alone to deal with this myself."

"You're making this harder than it needs to be," Wonyoung said, her voice laced with a thinly veiled frustration. "Just take the uniform. It's a simple solution."

"Simple for you, maybe," Y/N countered, her voice rising slightly. "But I'm not interested in your 'simple solutions.' I'm not interested in being your project."

"My project?" Wonyoung repeated, her voice dangerously soft. "Is that what you think this is?"

"What else am I supposed to think?" Y/N asked, turning to face Wonyoung, her eyes blazing. "You're constantly interfering, offering 'help' I don't need. You're making it impossible for me to just… exist."

"I'm trying to protect you," Wonyoung said, her voice strained. "These people are relentless. They won't stop until they break you."

"And you think wearing your uniform will stop them?" Y/N asked, a sardonic edge to her voice.

"Please. They'll just find another way."

"Then let me handle them," Wonyoung said, her voice pleading. "Let me take care of this for you."

"I don't need you to 'take care' of anything," Y/N said, her voice firm. "I can handle myself."

"You're being stubborn," Wonyoung hissed, her control slipping. "You're making this impossible."

"Impossible for you to control me?" Y/N challenged, her eyes narrowing. "That's the point."

Wonyoung's eyes darkened, her smile vanishing completely. "Fine," she said, her voice cold. "Have it your way. But don't come crying to me when they make your life a living hell." She turned and stalked out of the restroom, Y/N stared at the closed restroom door, Wonyoung's parting words echoing in her ears.

"Don't come crying to me when they make your life a living hell." A bitter laugh escaped her lips. As if she hadn't already lived through hell.

She turned back to the sink, determined to salvage what she could of her uniform. Maybe she could borrow something from Karina later. Or maybe she'd just skip the rest of her classes for today. The thought was strangely appealing.

Suddenly, the door swung open again, this time revealing not only Chaewon, but Sakura as well. Both were holding neatly folded uniforms.

"Y/N!" Chaewon exclaimed, rushing to her side. "Are you okay? We heard what happened”

Sakura held out her uniform. "Here, take this. It's clean."

“It'll fit better." Chaewon nodded. Y/N looked from Chaewon to Sakura, a warmth spreading through her chest.

These girls, these persistent, sometimes overbearing girls, were actually concerned about her. And they weren't offering her help as a means of control, or a way to gain power. They were simply offering their friendship.

"Thank you," Y/N said, her voice soft. She took Sakura's uniform, a genuine smile finally gracing her lips.

The last bell of the day echoed through the empty hallways, signaling the end of classes.

Y/N, book tucked under her arm, walked towards the main entrance, her steps measured and deliberate.

She had declined Karina’s offer of a ride home, stating she wanted to enjoy a peaceful walk, a moment of solitude before the chaos of the day truly ended.

As she stepped out into the fading afternoon light, a soft, golden hue painting the sky, she noticed Yujin leaning against the stone railing, her posture relaxed, yet radiating an undeniable air of authority. Even in casual repose, Yujin commanded attention, a silent declaration of her power.

"Y/N," Yujin said, her voice cutting through the quiet, a melodic undertone that belied its sharp edge. "A word, if you have a moment."

"About?" Y/N asked, stopping a few feet away, her gaze unwavering.

"About your… recent encounters," Yujin said, her gaze sweeping over Y/N’s still slightly damp uniform, a subtle flicker of something akin to curiosity in her eyes. "I heard there was a small… incident today."

"It was handled," Y/N replied, her voice flat, her gaze unwavering, a silent challenge in her stance.

"Handled?" Yujin raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement playing on her lips. "By silence?"

"Yes," Y/N stated, her voice firm, a clear declaration of her unwillingness to engage.

Yujin pushed herself off the railing, stepping closer, her movements fluid and graceful. "And how do you see this situation, Y/N? As a minor inconvenience? A passing storm?"

"As something I can deal with," Y/N said, her gaze fixed on Yujin, her resolve unwavering. "On my own terms."

"Terms that involve being soaked in juice and refusing to seek help?" Yujin asked, her voice laced with a hint of mockery, a subtle probing of Y/N’s defenses.

"Terms that involve maintaining my peace," Y/N countered, her voice unwavering, a hint of steel beneath the surface. "Something you and Wonyoung seem to have trouble understanding."

"You know these… incidents, as you call them, are unlikely to stop. And when they escalate, you'll find yourself wishing you had accepted a helping hand," Yujin stated, her voice a low, almost seductive murmur.

"I'll take my chances," Y/N said, her voice firm, unwavering. "I've faced worse."

Yujin's eyes darkened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them, a hint of something predatory. “I think this school year will be very exciting because of you. You're so mysterious, Y/N, like a puzzle I want to solve… or keep hidden,” Yujin said, her voice laced with a playful yet dangerous undertone. "You hold yourself with such control, such… restraint. It's fascinating."

“Don’t waste your time on me, President. It’s not worth it,” Y/N said, turning to leave, her patience wearing thin.

Yujin stepped in front of her, blocking her path, her movements swift and decisive.

“I’m not wasting my time. Actually, I’m enjoying this,” she said, her voice a low, almost husky whisper, her eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity.

"The way you resist, the way you refuse to bend... it's quite… captivating." She paused, her gaze lingering on Y/N's face.

"I wonder," she continued, her voice a soft murmur, "how long you can maintain this façade."

With that, Yujin turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing in the quiet courtyard, leaving Y/N standing alone in the fading light, the weight of Yujin's words settling around her like a shroud, a chilling reminder of the game she was now unwittingly playing.

Y/N took a deep breath, and started her walk, the quiet streets no longer feeling peaceful, but rather, like a silent, watchful gauntlet. The air felt thick with unspoken threats and hidden intentions, and the golden light of the setting sun seemed to cast long, ominous shadows, a stark contrast to the tranquility she had sought.

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greenxgloss · 2 days ago

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Hi! This is my first time writing a request, I'm going through a difficult period in my life, a lot of worries at work and other things...🫠🫠🫠How about a warm and cozy meeting with Yoongi? Something caring and sweet?🫂🍀 thank you

In Sickness and in Soft Sweaters

Word Count: 1.9k Themes: protective!yoongi x Sick!reader, Fluff, Angst maybe??

Of course baby i can do that for you. I hope you like it I was def drawing a blank when I was writing this. I hope it made you feel at least a little better <3

This bus ride felt like the longest one of your life. On your way home, you fought to keep your lunch down, every jolt in the road making your stomach churn. The random bursts of food smells wafting in through the open windows at each stop only made it worse—pure torture. You felt like a pregnant woman trapped in a mall food court. Wishing it was Friday instead of Thursday.

The moment the bus came to your stop, you hurried off faster than usual, your stomach protesting with every step.

“Y/N!? You look awful—why didn’t you call me to pick you up?” Yoongi’s concerned voice reached you just as you bolted through the open door, past him, straight to the bathroom. Dropping to your knees, you barely made it before emptying your stomach into the toilet, your entire body tensing painfully. Yoongi was right behind you, immediately holding your hair up and rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Shit, you should have called me,” he murmured.

Slumped against the bathroom wall, you grabbed some toilet paper to wipe your mouth as Yoongi stood to get you a glass of water. “I don’t—” You took a deep breath, still shaken. “—think you would’ve gotten there any faster than the bus did, baby.”

You sighed, brushing your hair back. “I think I got food poisoning from that fish I brought for lunch. The staff fridge is a fucking joke.”

Yoongi frowned, handing you the water. “And it didn’t smell bad or anything?”

You took a deep swig before glancing up at him. “I was so hungry, I didn’t even notice.” A wave of embarrassment washed over you, and before you could stop it, your face grew hot, eyes welling up with tears.

Sickness always made you emotional—whether it was hormones or just your body’s strange reaction, you didn’t know. But your personal symptom of being sick? Sweats, and uncontrollable crying.

“Oh, baby.” Yoongi let out a soft chuckle before pulling you into a tight hug. “Drink all your water. I’ll run a bath for you, okay?” He pulled back just enough to wipe your tears, his touch gentle, comforting. You nodded and kept sipping your water as Yoongi ran the bath, making sure it was warm.

“You’re definitely sick. You’re already crying,” he murmured, glancing over at you. “Do you need to call in sick for work?” You sniffled, pressing your sleeve to your face. “Yeah, but I used up all my vacation days. I could get fired.”

Yoongi let out a sharp breath, clearly irritated. “That’s—fuck, I’ll call. Give me your phone.” He scoffed, irritation creeping up on him. In your dazed state, you didn’t even hesitate, handing your phone over without a second thought. Yoongi had met your boss once before; safe to say, he already had a strong dislike for the man.

As the tub filled with steaming water, Yoongi tucked your phone into his pocket and turned off the faucet. Then, with gentle hands, he helped you out of your jacket, unbuttoned your shirt, and slipped off your shoes and bottoms before easing you into the tub.

“I’ll be right back,” he said softly, brushing his thumb over your cheek before standing up and leaving the room.

You could hear his muffled voice from the next room, sharp and firm. “Y/N just got home with terrible food poisoning, and I’m calling in for her. She won’t be able to come in tomorrow.” A pause. Whatever your boss said didn’t sit well, because Yoongi’s tone turned colder. “She can barely function. You have more than enough time to find someone to cover.”

His frustration wasn’t surprising. It wasn’t like you needed the job—Yoongi’s paycheck was more than enough for both of you—but working retail made you feel normal, like you had something of your own.

You hugged your knees under the water, feeling drained and dizzy. A moment later, Yoongi returned, sitting on the floor beside the tub. “It’s all good, baby. I got you tomorrow off,” he reassured, exhaling as he poured a cup of warm water over your hair.

Your boyfriend would go to war for you—you were sure of that much.

“Google says bananas and broth help with food poisoning,” he added with a small smile. You let out a weak chuckle, and he gave you a confused look, like a deer caught in headlights. “What?”

“Nothing,” you murmured, smiling up at him. “I just love you.” Yoongi smiled. “I love you too. Now, what’s it gonna be? Toast and eggs, or broth with bananas for dessert?” He flashed his phone screen at you, showing a Google search for what to eat when you have food poisoning

“You’re such a loser, Min Yoongi,” you groaned, laughing weakly as you buried your head between your knees. He rolled his eyes playfully. “Can’t blame me for wanting to take care of you… maybe being a little protective.” he shrugged, turning back to his phone to scroll, probably for recipes that wouldn't irritate your stomach further.

“I can’t even think about food right now,” you muttered, groaning again as nausea crept up on you. “Fuck, I think I’m gonna puke again.” Yoongi shot up, grabbing the trash can and handing it to you just in time. You bent over the side of the tub, gripping the bucket as another wave hit, your body tensing painfully.

“Let it all out,” he whispered, rubbing your back as you emptied your stomach again.

—

After your bath, Yoongi helped you brush your teeth and tucked you into bed. Carefully walking you to the bedroom as you combat the vertigo from the pressure imbalance in your head.

“You want me to put on a movie while I make your broth?” he asked, setting the now clean trash can beside the bed just in case. You nodded, curling up with the stuffed bear he had given you—the one he got you during your first period when you started dating. It had always brought you comfort, especially on nights when he was away at work and you didn’t have him to curl up with instead.

“Okay, baby. Call me if you need anything.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, tucking you in before letting your favorite movie play on the TV.

You tossed and turned, your body aching down to the bones. At one point, you even tried napping, but time stretched painfully slow. What felt like hours had only been about twenty minutes since Yoongi had gone to the kitchen. And again, you could hear noise a little too excessive for plain broth and a banana.

When he finally returned, he chuckled at the sight of you shifting around restlessly. “What are you doing?” He set the tray of food on the desk before making his way to you. “Baby, is the bed not comfortable?” he asked, helping you sit up and rearranging the pillows and blankets to your liking. You sighed. “No.”

“Then just let me get in next to you.” He smiled, carefully placing the tray on your lap before slipping under the duvet beside you.

Yoongi picked up the spoon and fed you a sip of his homemade broth. “I feel like a child,” you huffed between spoonfuls, pouting slightly. He hummed in amusement. “Just eat and feel better.” As he fed you, he absentmindedly mimicked you, opening his mouth every time you took a bite, making you chuckle.

“I made you banana pudding too,” he added with a proud smile on his face. “That might be the only thing that doesn’t make me nauseous,” you sighed, letting out a small giggle before leaning in to kiss his cheek. Yoongi smiled and continued feeding you.

“Baby, why don’t you just quit? I make enough for both of us—”

“Yoongi, I need this. I need my own thing. We’ve talked about this,” you cut him off, dropping your head back onto the pillow.

“I know, I know,” he sighed, rubbing your cheek gently. “I just want to take care of you. I hate seeing you get sick because of work.”

“This won’t happen again, trust me,” you reassured him, frowning. You knew why he disapproved—your boss barely cared about the employees—but quitting wasn’t an option for you. You needed something that was yours. “I’ll—I’ll start buying my lunches instead. Or maybe just bring regular sandwiches,” you suggested, hoping to ease his worry. “Then you’ll be malnourished,” he scoffed, clearly unimpressed. “Y/N, is there some way we can compromise on this?” He set the now-empty bowl of broth aside, looking at you expectantly.

You shrugged. “I don’t think so.” the both of you paused. “What if I start bringing you lunch on your breaks?” he offered, picking up the bowl of banana pudding.

You perked up, nodding with a smile. “That works. I’m cool with that.” Yoongi continued feeding you with a smile of his own.

Yoongi adored you—no, he loved you—but those words alone didn’t seem enough to capture it. As mentioned before, he would go to war for you. He once stood in line for hours just to get you a limited-edition comic, refusing to send his staff or use his connections to get it faster. He wanted to be the one to do it for you.

Your parents loved him too, which meant everything to you. They treated him like their own son, always making plans with him even when you weren’t around. You were Yoongi’s girl, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for you—whether it was cradling you when you were sick, cooking for you, or cleaning up your puke without a second thought.

Sometimes, you felt guilty for letting him take care of you so much. But deep down, you both knew you’d do the same for him in a heartbeat—if only he ever gave you the chance.

Yoongi rarely got sick. He took incredible care of himself, knowing he couldn’t afford to be down for long. His work was relentless, his schedule unforgiving, and every break he had, he preferred to spend with you. You were always his number one priority.

That night, you fell asleep in his arms, head resting against his chest, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He played with your hair gently, his fingers running through the strands as he rubbed slow circles on your back, whispering sweet nothings.

You slept through the night and well into the next afternoon. And in true Yoongi fashion, he spent the morning tidying up the apartment and picking up your favorite snacks, wanting everything to be perfect for when you woke up.

Thanks to him, you were back on your feet in no time, ready to return to work by Monday. You just hoped your boss wouldn’t give you hell and would finally fix the damn fridge—especially since you weren’t the only one who had gotten food poisoning from it.

Despite how much Yoongi hated your job, he made sure you were feeling completely better before letting you go back. He didn’t understand why you loved it so much, but he didn’t have to. He loved you—and that was enough for him to support anything that made you happy.

As you got ready for work Monday morning, Yoongi watched you carefully, his sharp eyes scanning for any lingering signs of weakness. When you finally turned to him with a reassuring smile, he sighed in defeat, knowing he couldn’t keep you home forever—no matter how much he wanted to.

“Text me if you feel even a little off, okay?” he said, tugging your jacket into place before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I will,” you promised, squeezing his hands. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

Yoongi scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully. “Always.”

And as you stepped out the door, you felt a warmth settle deep in your chest. Because no matter how exhausting the world outside could be, no matter how frustrating your job got, you knew one thing for certain—at the end of the day, you’d always come home to Yoongi. To his quiet devotion, his gentle hands, and his unwavering love. And really, that was all you’d ever need.

A/N: Again hope this was okay. feel free to request again ofc requests are always open and I turned anons back on so ask box is open for anything ALSO! if you guys wanna be tagged when I post fics feel free to fill out the taglist form below :)))

➽ Yoongi Masterlist ➽ Main Masterlist ➽ Taglist Form

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strawwritesfic · 3 days ago

Text

Male!Loki x Female!Light Elf!Reader: With Dying Colors

Summary: Not everyone gets the chance to change their fate. Loki Odinson does so by accident, and finds the place he has been searching for all his life.

Rating/Tags: G (Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War; Not Canon Compliant with Loki; References to Loki's Gender Fluidity; Mild Hurt/Comfort; Mild Language; Florence Nightingale Syndrome; Homesteading; Depressed Thor; Background Platonic Relationships)

Word Count: 11,465

Requester: Anonymous

Request: "Hey could I plz request a Loki fem reader? Loki somehow manages to escape Thanos (cause we’re all still in denial of his death) but gets separated from the rest of the Asgardians on the way to Earth. Severely injured he chances it and uses magic to escape and lands in the forest somewhere. He wakes up in a warm cozy cabin all healed but remembers bits of his time here…being fed, washed and nursed back to healthy [sic] by a woman. Reader is an earth witch/half light elf who was banished for her human side and takes care of him but now he doesn’t want to leave cause he starts falling for her. Coincidentally her forest meets up with the forest near the Avengers Compound so she sends them updates on his health, but she also protects him cause Ross wants him locked away in the Raft. She’s more powerful so no one really dares trespass on her land."

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Notes: Wow, it sure has been, like, half a minute, right? This took me a long, long time to write. I had to add scenes; I had to research homesteading; I had to do some adjustments after discovering I was writing a completely different theme towards the end...I've been working on it so long that my own mother started throwing shade at me for it. I don't know for sure if I'm back-back, but I am making an concerted effort to get back to doing things I love. I did my best to complete every aspect of this request, and I think I managed it in a reasonable fashion, save for not telling the story via flashbacks. As the author, I do have some veto power, and I just didn't think the story warranted that.

Ao3 Version Here

With Dying Colors

Lights. Ever-swirling, ever-flashing, ever-sparkling lights. An array of dancing colors surrounded Loki Odinson. He could see the endless shifting of them even with his eyes squeezed tightly shut. The lights danced around him—no. A more apt description would be that the lights rushed around him. He could feel them all moving so rapidly past him that his long, dark hair blew out behind his head, though there ought not be any wind in space.

If this was dying, death was not so nearly as horrible as he'd feared.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Upon further rumination, dying was plenty painful. Thanos must have decided crushing Loki's windpipe had not been punishment enough. Now the Mad Titan sought to crack Loki's skull open with Mjölnir. For Odin's sake, Thanos had already cast Loki to the floor like refuse! Must he suffer further indignities before being allowed to pass?

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Evidently so. The lights having faded into a void of black, Loki pressed his eyelids still tighter as the pain lanced through his head.

—just get it over with already, you overgrown prune, is what Loki intended to say. But he didn't even get the first two words out in understandable form. Trying to do so made him feel as though someone had stuffed his throat with shards of broken glass. A metallic taste filled his mouth, accompanied by some sort of warm liquid. He coughed the molten stuff out from within his burning chest.

"Shhhhhh," someone nearby murmured.

Whoever they were, they weren't Thor. That the voice belonged to a woman made that obvious; Thor had never shared Loki's predilection for swapping genders like clothing. Another of Thanos's monstrous children, perhaps?

Something wet prodded Loki's pounding forehead, and he lurched away—or attempted to. Once again, he found himself with little control over his own body. His shoulders whacked against a hard object that similarly could not be Thor. Even his brother wasn't that flat and unyielding.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Oh, for the love of—" the same voice said crossly.

The cool, damp thing near Loki's face vanished. He heard a squelching sound, then rapid footsteps crossing a floor—a distinctly not metal floor.

Bang! Bang! Ba—

A door opened.

"Miss [Name]," barked a new voice—not an Asgardian accent, Loki noted, and belonging to someone wholly unfamiliar to him, "if you don't—"

"I would request that you keep your voice down, Mr. Secretary," said the woman from before, albeit in a much cooler tone than the one she'd used with Loki.

A thump. Boots on wood, if Loki was not mistaken. His head hurt so badly even the softest noise felt like another blow, but he thought he could identify that much. Whoever this man was, he was now in the...room? Home? Escape pod? Loki finally had to know.

Though his eyelids felt welded shut, he pried them open to find himself somehow miraculously no longer aboard either the Statesman or Sanctuary II. Instead, the sight that greeted him was that of a small room. Night dark as pitch pressed against the windows, leaving only a multitude of candles burning on seemingly every surface to light the place. Their trail his eyes followed all the way to a doorway where two figures stood: a pale-skinned biped with a mustache towering over another biped entirely swallowed in shadows.

"And I," said the mustached one, "request that when I summon you, you come to see me. And if I have to come retrieve you, I request that you open the door at once."

"Mr. Secretary, I would remind you that I am under no obligation to follow your 'summons' at all."

"The Accords clearly state—"

"I may have signed your Accords, but I am not one your chess pieces to be moved at your whim. There were provisions put in place for people like me."

"People like you. Not people like him."

The man pointed in Loki's direction without taking his eyes off the woman. Had Loki been able to speak, he might have had a snide response prepared. But he couldn't, and he didn't, and the smaller figure stepped in front of the finger to shove the man's arm down.

"Please try to remember whose territory you are on, Mr. Secretary. Those provisions do allow me to act in self-defense," she said.

"Self-defense! Aiding and abetting more like." The man let out a scornful laugh. "That man is an intergalactically wanted war criminal!"

"Some might say the same of you in the near future, Mr. Secretary." The woman made to step away, but the man reached out to grab her shoulder before she could get very far.

"I have every right to take him into custody," he said.

The woman wrenched her bare, [color]-skinned shoulder out the man's grasp. "He is in no condition to be moved, especially not to your godsforsaken rock. Do you also have the right to watch him die?"

Though the man said nothing in response, Loki could see a mutinous glitter in his eyes despite the flickering candlelight surrounding all three actors in this little drama.

"He won't receive proper medical care at the Raft. We both know you taking him would be as good as a death sentence."

"I couldn't care less if the little bastard dies!" the man burst out. "How many of our good men and women have died because of him? And you think he ought to be allowed to make a full recovery and murder more?"

"How many more might die without him?" The woman's voice had dropped, and yet she sounded so firm that there could be no question that she meant what she asked. The man stared down at her, speechless once more, but this time his eyes had gone wide. "They're already here, aren't they, Mr. Secretary?" she went on in an innocent tone. "The monsters looking for the Stones? How many of your precious Avengers have already gone missing?"

A shock of ice-cold lightning flashed through Loki's very core. Stones? Avengers? Could he really be so cursed? Whatever stroke of luck had seen him use enough dark magic to escape Thanos with his injuries had been no luck at all. He'd only gotten away as far as Midgard, where at least two damned Infinity Stones waited for their master to claim them. Worse, by the sound of things, Thanos's children had already arrived and already won.

As his heart and mind raced, a burst of white light filled the room. The glare of it burned Loki's already aching head and left a smear of purplish blue across his vision. Terrified, able to breathe only shallowly without bringing more blood into his mouth, he blinked as fast as he could to recover his vision. He could do nothing but accept his fate now, whether that be at Thanos's hands or those of the angry man's, but he preferred to retain some semblance of dignity either way this go-round.

When at last he could see clearly again, however, Thanos did not stand in the wreckage of the building. Nor did any of his children, Loki realized, nor the man from before. Only one person remained, and that was the woman. She had her back toward him as another white light surrounded the door she stood in front of.

Then she turned her face to him. Their eyes met across the dark room. Her angry expression melted at once.

“Oh,” she said, “you’re awake.”

Loki didn’t even manage to open his mouth to answer before his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out from pain and fear.

******

Next Loki woke, he found himself in an airy, well-lit room. Day had broken, and clear sunshine beamed through the many windows on the walls. It was the same place he had woken in previously. The extinguished candles clustered across every visible flat surface were proof enough of that. He could also see the same door from before. Only one other shut door led away from where he lie. Nothing moved around him. Birds chirped outside at such a decibel that he could hardly believe he'd slept through their incessant racket.

Except that he still hurt. Bor, he hurt. But Loki had not lived this long without knowing, generally, what sort of situation he had gotten caught in. Throbbing, stabbing, straining, burning, he pushed himself into a seated position against the stack of pillows behind his head. His gasp for air when he made it felt like a knife lodged deep inside his throat. There would be time to catalog his injuries later, perhaps, and less of a chance of that if he didn't seize this opportunity to take note of where he was.

What he saw surprised him somewhat. Though tidy, the one-room structure held a lot of clutter. In between all the candles sat hunks of rocks and crystals, some polished, others rough. Many were Midgardian in nature, but others Loki could tell at a glance weren't local at all. Piles of books in varying conditions littered the polished wood floor. Every window held at least one plant, each different, each in obviously robust health. Perhaps strangest of all was the mound of pillows and knitted blankets a few feet away from his resting place—the only messy thing in the entire place.

Not that it mattered. This homey little cottage would not last long with Thanos on the way, if he had not arrived during Loki's second bout of unconsciousness. Rather than sitting around and admiring the cleaning job, he needed to be finding a way out. His leg screamed in pain as he forced it out from underneath the sheet and put his foot on the floor. He ignored it. What was a little pain now compared to what he would feel when Thanos got ahold of him again?

"You're not strong enough yet for that sort of nonsense," someone said.

He sucked in a breath so swiftly that it triggered another coughing fit. The taste of blood flooded his mouth once more. His head spun with pain. Something rustled softly over by the door. Then Loki heard footsteps for a second or two before he felt a hard object against his mouth. Before he could gather his wits about him enough to shove the object away, a cold, bitter liquid flowed across his tongue and into his waiting throat. Loki spluttered as much of it entered his lungs, and yet even as he did the pain in his chest subsided somewhat.

Once his breathing evened out, the concoction stopped pouring into his mouth. The hard object vanished. Loki inhaled tremulously.

"I told you that you weren't strong enough," said the same voice from before. Now that he thought about it, Loki recognized the voice as belonging to the woman who had kept him safe the last time he'd been awake.

It was she that sat beside him now. His eyes met hers consciously for the first time—beautiful, sparkling, [color], and indignant. Definitely indignant. How women across so many realms and cultures could master the same look was a mystery for the ages. She didn't give him a chance to ask. With a snort, she stood and bustled over to the door through which the mustached man had burst before. After she'd gathered a weaved basket into her arms, she stepped over to a nearby kitchen hung with shining copper pots and bouquets of drying herbs.

"That was hardly my fault," Loki said into the silence. "You startled me. I didn't realize I had company."

The woman smiled at him over her still-bare shoulder. "You don't. You're company. And from the stories I've heard, Loki of Asgard ought to be a little more difficult to catch unawares."

"You'll forgive me if my near-death experience put me a little off my game."

Again, she said nothing. The sink turned on without a touch as you unloaded dirt-encrusted vegetables from the basket. Interesting. Though the room held many trappings of the bog-standard Midgardian witch, Loki had never seen a Midgardian perform any sort of magic, mundane or not.

"And to whom should I direct my thanks for saving my life?" he asked pointedly.

"Me. Mostly."

"Yes, and who is me?"

She paused in unloading her foodstuffs to give him a pursed-lipped look. Then her head whipped back away from him again she replied, "[Name]."

"[Name]." The sound of it tasted interesting on his tongue. "Thank you, [Name]."

"Don't thank me. I wouldn't say you're out of the woods yet."

Loki lifted a hand to his ruined throat. "So I've noticed. And may I ask..."

Well, now that he thought about it, he had a plethora of questions. A given name hardly got him anywhere. But before he could select a single query from the dizzying array crowding his mind, you supplied an answer him:

"I don't know."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't know what happened. The cards have been cryptic." Was that a note of annoyance he heard in your voice? "All I've got from them is something about Thanos and the Infinity Stones. I don't even think you’re supposed to be here."

He hardly registered that last sentence. The mere mention of the Mad Titan made Loki feel very cold even underneath the considerable bulk of his blanket. His voice sounded even raspier when he spluttered, "Are they—has he—"

"He's not here."

"How would you know?"

"I'd know." You dropped your now-empty basket onto the gleaming wood countertop. Perhaps you spotted the horror in Loki's eyes as you turned to him, because you went on, "And if I didn't, my next-door neighbors would let me know."

"Neighbors?" Loki squeaked. Clearing his throat only made his vocal cords throb.

You didn't remark on that, just nodded slowly. "They're the ones that brought you to me a few days ago."

At last, something that Loki could latch on to! Even the vaguest of clues as to his location would aid him in working out a spell. He'd escaped from Thanos once; he could do it again.

"And where, exactly, might your neighbors have found me?" he asked.

You opened your mouth. Loki leaned forward in anticipation. Before you could utter a single word, however, someone knocked on the door. The noise was a far cry from the incessant, head-rending banging of earlier. Still, he noticed that your normally [color] skin paled several shades at the sound.

"That's probably them now," you said.

That didn't quite explain your change in color or the jittery way you rushed over to the door. Loki's eyes followed you there. Too late did he think to pull the blanket over his head to hide himself. In his current condition, it would have been a struggle to do so before you opened it to reveal —

"Steve? Natasha?"

At least you sounded as horrified as he felt by the sudden appearance of two Avengers on your doorstep. They could be no other, though they didn't look quite right. The former had dark hair now, as well as a beard, and the latter had turned blonde. But who else could it be? Who else would show up at Loki's weakest point?

His alarm increased as you threw your arms briefly around Natasha. The alarm swiftly turned into suspicion when he noticed she made no move to throw you off.

"I don’t understand," you said, as you released her and allowed the two to enter your home. "Why are you back? Where's Tony?"

"We're not sure," Steve answered.

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than did his and Loki's eyes meet across the room. Loki noticed that Steve's gaze had changed just as drastically as his appearance in the intervening years. Much of the sadness was gone. Now there was just some blazing hardness dampened not at all as he took in Loki's injuries. Loki knew that Natasha was looking at him, too, but he was too busy with his staring contest with Steve to pay her much mind.

Oddly, he felt no satisfaction whatsoever when Steve broke their stare off to return his attention to you:

"How's your patient?"

You didn't miss a beat. "Not well."

"Can you leave him?"

"No."

"Is moving him an option?"

"Absolutely not."

"Better question." Loki started painfully at the sound of Natasha's voice right next to him. She'd come to stand beside his bed, arms crossed, the look in her eyes even colder than Steve's had been. "Do we care what happens to him?"

Of course. Of course Loki had escaped the greatest threat the universe had ever seen—for a given value of "escape," he had to admit—only to die at the hands of the so-called heroes his brother had considered his friends. At least Steve's presence was likely to ensure Loki's death came swiftly. If Thanos's children were already scouting out the planet, perhaps Natasha would even be doing him a favor.

"Rhodey wouldn't have told us he was here if what happens to him didn't matter," Steve said.

"If he can't help us, I fail to see what benefit there is in keeping him alive."

"Help you with what?" you cut in, voice as sharp as steel.

Natasha stepped away from Loki. He let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. Relaxing his muscles made the blood rush through his body so hard it made him dizzy—but it did not distract him from hearing Steve's answer to your question:

"We're going to Wakanda. They can remove Vision's Stone there without killing him."

"We hope," said Natasha.

"It will work."

"Sounds great." You didn't sound like you agreed with your own sentiment. "What do you need either of us for to do that?"

"They'll come, [Name]. We'll have the last of the Stones with us. They'll all come. Maybe even Thanos himself."

"You'd be a huge asset," Natasha added.

"We could use all the help we can get. And that includes Loki."

Suddenly, all eyes were on Loki. He licked his lips. "And why should I bother to help you all?" he rasped at last.

No one looked surprised by this question. Steve's eyebrows lifted slightly before he said, "It's your universe at risk, too. And from the sound of it, you wouldn't have made it very long if Tony and Rhodey hadn’t brought you here."

"Oh, yes, thank you.” His lip curled; he hoped that Steve could not hear his wildly beating heart. "Thank you so much for the rescue. And just in time to be obliterated along with the rest of reality! You shouldn't have."

"We're going to do our best not to let that happen. What about you, [Name]?" he asked as he turned back to you.

Loki felt rather than saw your gaze on him, searching and gentle. He found that he could not lift his head to meet your eyes. Then, in a soft tone full of regret, you said:

"I can't."

"If we lose this, there's a good chance he'll die anyway," said Natasha.

"He'll die for sure without anyone here to look after him."

She opened her mouth, but whatever nasty remark she planned to make next, Steve silenced her with a hand on her shoulder.

"We understand," he told you.

You nodded.

Without another word, the two Avengers left the cabin. You watched them go until Natasha pulled the door shut behind them. Silence buzzed through the room like electricity. You did not move. So long did you stare at the door that Loki half-expected it to burst into flame; the same could be said about the length of time he spent staring at the back of your head. He opened his mouth, found it dry, licked his lips, and tried to speak evenly:

"If you hurry, you could still catch up with them."

You shook your head, turning to head back to his bedside.

"Truly," he said. "I can make it on my own. Why, I only feel mostly like dying now instead of completely like dying."

"And you only feel that good because I've been here to take care of you." From the silver pitcher on the bedside table, you poured some smoking, purple concoction into the nearby cup. Then you sat down on the edge of the bed and held it out to him. "Speaking of, drink this."

A delicate sniff of the cup thrust toward him indicated that this was the same bitter brew you'd forced down his throat earlier. He did not take it. "I am a god. I can take care of myself."

"If I leave, you won't make it until tomorrow. This stuff doesn't keep, and you can't make it yourself." When Loki made no move to take the cup from you, you rolled your eyes. "Same thing if you won't drink your medicine."

He wrinkled his nose, but accepted the glass. Instead of swallowing the foul-smelling stuff, he cradled it in his hands. "Why are you doing this for me?"

"I don't think even one life should be given up if I have the power to save it. That's all," you said.

"Even if they could die anyway?"

"Even if they could die anyway." You cocked your head to one side, regarding him quietly for a few moments. Then you stood again. "Drink up, and get some rest. Hopefully the rest of the world will still be here the next time you're awake."

A sudden surge in pain obliterated Loki's desire to retort. Steeling himself, he lifted the potion to his lips and gulped it down as quickly as he could. The relief came over him almost at once, so heady that it made his head spin. Darkness crept into the edges of his vision. Before he could wonder if this was Thanos's victory, natural sleep overtook him. Perhaps dying this way would be easier, he thought, than what might face him later in that tiny cabin.

******

The potion’s effects only did so much for him after that dose. Loki slept fitfully, plagued by a leaden weight in his stomach that even sleep could not dispel. His dreams ended in exploding planets, in melting cities, in scorching pain. All the magic sedative coursing through his system did was drag him along from one cataclysm to the next. Try as he might, he could not tear himself into the hellscape of his reality—not until a loud clang issued from somewhere nearby.

“Owwww!” Loki snapped as he forced his eyelids open. At least this awakening did not hurt as badly as the last two had. The clear, watery light of morning only worsened his headache a little as opposed to a tremendous degree.

And he knew where he was. That helped. Though the panic searing the inside of his rib cage did not abate, he doubted that anyone observing him would be able to tell that at a glance. At least he managed to refrain from throwing himself out of the bed this time. This allowed him to maintain some dignity as he searched for the source of the noise.

And there you stood in the kitchen. One of those copper pots sat steaming on the island. As though you could sense his eyes on you, you looked up from your stirring.

“Congratulations. The rest of the world is still here,” you said.

How little he cared about this backwater rock when Thanos could set the entire known universe on fire should he succeed in wresting the last Infinity Stone from Steve's all-too-human fingers. Biting back this retort, Loki struggled into a seated position. He was pleased to find himself recovered enough to do so on his own.

“So I see,” he said at last, once he noticed you watching him. “So did your friends…” he didn’t quite know how to finish that sentence. He didn’t quite know which question he wanted answered, or what answer he wanted to hear either.

You shook your head. “I won’t hear back from them unless they get back.”

“Not even your precious cards could tell you?”

“Even if they could, I wouldn’t ask. All I can tell you is that you and I are still standing.”

‘In a manner of speaking.’ Loki took a moment to glower at his weak legs. “Yes. How much longer will that be the case, I wonder.”

“There’s no use fatalizing about it. Would you like some porridge?”

The gears in Loki’s mind took several seconds to adjust to the abrupt change of subject. Unfortunately, the moment he gave any real thought to the sweet aroma wafting from the pot, his stomach rolled so badly he couldn’t open his mouth to reply. Who knew what sort of muck might pour out of it, given all the strange things you’d forced down his throat during your short acquaintance?

“I’ll add something to your medicine to help with nausea.” A note of sympathy had crept into your voice. “We need to get something solid in your stomach before too much longer.”

Making breakfast, gathering food, healing him—what good would all of this effort do in the end? Probably you just wanted a distraction from the inevitable doom you both faced. Thor’s ragtag bunch of misfits had defeated Loki, but he was in no condition to consider himself a threat the same level as Thanos. The Avengers didn’t even have Thor anymore.

Loki’s eyes suddenly burned, and his throat felt all over again the pressure of Thanos’s enormous fingers. The thought of what might have happened to his brother in the aftermath of Loki’s escape would not bear thinking about. Time to focus on other things.

There wasn’t much else to focus on but you, however. He watched as you doled out a serving a mush into a waiting wooden bowl. You ate it quickly. Then you took your pot and carefully spooned the rest of the food into a line of glass jars sitting on the countertop.

Loki noticed that you moved differently than other Midgardians, now that he could stop and take the time to observe you at length—more graceful, more intentional, with no wasted movements whatsoever. Mortals could be taught to replicate such movement, but they could never achieve the same kind of ability as beings superior to them.

Only when you’d easily hefted the heavy object over to the sink did he finally say, “You’re not human, are you?”

You looked over your shoulder at him, expression guarded. “Half,” you said at last, then shifted some hair away from one of your ears. Doing so revealed that ear to end in a perfect, delicate point.

“You’re a light elf,” Loki said wonderingly.

“Half,” you said again, before returning to the chore of cleaning your dishes.

“What are you doing so far from Alfheim?”

“The whole half-human thing? Yeah, it didn’t exactly endear me to my family there.”

“But why here? There are light-elf communes in the realm.”

“Those jackasses at the North Pole declined to house me as well. One human per pole, apparently. And half-humans count.”

“There’s an entire galaxy out there. You could have gone anywhere.”

“By then, I’d figured out I was better off on my own.” Water continued to run over your hands and bare forearms, but these had stilled. Your gaze was fixed on some distant point in time. Then it snapped back to his face. “It was a long time ago. I went to SHIELD, traded a few goods and services for secrecy. And Howard Stark let me build a place near where he was stationed. I’ve been here ever since.”

“That sounds…lonely.” Lonely in a way that Loki understood; lonely in a way he’d always felt growing up, although he hadn’t understood why—lonely in the way he’d been after he had discovered his true heritage.

You shrugged flippantly. “It worked pretty well up until the Accords. Now I’ve always got Ross breathing down my neck.”

“The Accords?”

“It’s an Avengers thing, or at least Ross wants it to be.”

“So you—”

“Are not an Avenger.” Finished with cleaning, you tipped the pot onto the counter upside down, dried your hands on the waiting towel, then turned to face him. “I’ve never been one, and I’ll never be one.”

Loki found his body loosening somewhat after this revelation. Strange. He hadn’t noticed he’d been so taut to begin with. “And yet they came to you for aid,” he pointed out.

“I do aid them, sometimes. But not because some Midgardian law says I have to. Like I said before, if I have the power to save one life I’ll do it, whether or not my neighbors believe that life is worth saving. If anyone can get rid of Thanos, it’s them. But they couldn’t save you.”

“Is a single life worth saving if they can’t?”

“I guess that’s up to the person whose life it is.”

“And the life Thanos leaves them with.”

He noticed then you had gone very still. You cocked your head to one side and regarded him down your nose. “Do you regret it? Being saved?”

Loki inhaled sharply. How could he answer that question? For all the aggravation and fear he felt about his present circumstances, to reply in the negative would be terribly rude. Your bedside manner left much to be desired. Your skill in healing, on the other hand…

The sudden disintegration of half the plants in the room saved him from having to voice his thoughts. Your eyes locked onto his. Neither of you breathed a word. Somehow Loki still knew your thoughts to be the same: The Avengers had at last done the unthinkable. They had failed.

******

Some things Loki grew accustomed to over the years following what came to be called "The Snap." He grew accustomed to the new, permanent roughness of his voice. He grew accustomed to the slight limp from his injuries becoming more pronounced when the wind turned cold. He grew accustomed to eating food only available seasonally, to working for that food, to sharing a smaller space than he'd ever lived in before. He grew used to braiding his lengthening hair each day. He even grew accustomed to the smell of the chicken coop.

That day, the stench was worse than most others. An unexpected rainstorm had blown in overnight, and left everything damp or dripping, from the branches overhead to the edges of the roof. Loki shook his hood back as he made to the door, scuffed his worn boots on the welcome mat, and entered the cabin.

"Breakfast," he announced, somewhat breathless after his run for cover.

You stood already working at the stove. He placed the basket he carried in an empty space near your elbow. After a quick glance at his sodden figure, you reached under the piece of cloth he'd placed over the eggs, pulled two out, and cracked them over the skillet. Only once the food was sizzling did you offer him a warm smile.

Instead of saying anything, Loki swallowed and did his best to avoid your gaze.

"Thanks," you said into the silence.

"I had no issues with gathering eggs for you this morning. I wanted to check on Gunnhild myself."

"How is she?"

Loki hummed noncommittally as he went to a drawer for cutlery to set the table. He couldn't quite put words to the worry he felt nowadays over so much as Midgardian hens of all things. Perhaps he felt obligated to keep alive as many beings as he could after Thanos had taken so much. After finding one of his ladies so lethargic the evening prior, he'd spent a long, sleepless night fretting over her condition until he could trek to the pen under the pretense of helping with the morning meal. Truth be told, Gunnhild had seemed livelier then, but still, his thoughts continued to linger over her when he sat down in one of the two heavy wooden chairs.

The sound of a plate being placed in front of him snapped Loki from his musings. He did not know if he liked the understanding look you shot him as you slid into your own seat across from him. His stomach twisted painfully until he looked away from your face again.

Add that to the somewhat shorter list of things Loki had not grown accustomed to since the Snap.

"I'll put a little something extra in the feed today. She'll hardly know she had a respiratory infection."

More and more often lately, Loki found himself unable to meet your eyes, and when he did force himself to do so, his insides would suddenly feel hot. Had he been a younger or more ignorant being, he might have been inclined to blame the numerous concoctions you forced him to drink (some days with more arm-twisting than others) even this much time after his near-fatal injuries. You seemed to have magic for every aliment known, for chicken and Jotun alike. Why not a philter as well?

But he had been alive long enough—been in love often enough—to know the truth. These physical sensations had nothing to do with your talents, and everything to do with his...isolation? Rescue? Maturing?

He had never believed himself to be one of those fools capable of falling head over heels for someone for no greater reason than that they had nursed him back to health. What a pathetic way to return the kindness you had shown him—all the panaceas grudgingly swallowed; all the staggering walks contemptuously taken; all the nights you'd slept in a makeshift nest of quilts when Loki disdainfully refused to leave your bed.

The sudden lack of people in the world had not put the responsibility of his rehabilitation on your shoulders. You had taken that on willingly well before the Snap. But he did believe that, had Thanos not succeeded, you might have happily ended up without such of a chore of a lingering houseguest. Every morning he woke began anew a day you could decide Loki had overstayed his welcome. His only consolation was that, surely, these feelings would fallow once he no longer came in contact with you.

But then surely, too, his body would fall apart without your aid. So Loki kept his mouth shut. Cohabitating with you while keeping his growing romanticism a secret was difficult; he shuddered to think of the alternatives left to him in this half-empty universe.

Once again, you interrupted his thoughts, this time with a wry observation of: "You're overthinking something again."

His rough gulp hardly helped his case any more than the following, "I am not."

"You are."

I should think I know my own thoughts better than you do."

"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but Loki of Asgard isn't nearly as difficult to read as he thinks he is. Your mouth gets these deep wrinkles at the corners, and..." Trailing off, you frowned before you leaned forward to grasp the hand he had resting on the table. "Is that what this is about?"

You must have seen his split-second grimace when you'd referred to him in that mocking way of yours. If you'd noticed that, he had no doubt you'd spotted the way he stiffened when you touched him like that as well. Be that as it may, you kept your fingers lightly resting against his as you went on:

"We need to talk about it."

“I don't have the faintest idea what it is there is to discuss," he answered firmly.

You laughed. The sound made Loki's chest ache. "You do."

"I assure you I do not. And if you're going to insist on this level of condescension, I'd much prefer to get some work done than sit around listening to your riddles. Now, if you'll excuse me—"

"Why don't you go ahead and admit that you were eavesdropping when Natasha visited last night?"

If your iron grip hadn't been enough to keep Loki rooted to his chair, your question would. He felt blood rush to his face, try as he might to fight the urge to blush. "I beg your pardon?" he asked, knowing all the while that he would not hit quite the right note to express his feigned incredulity.

You did not answer. Neither did your hand loosen. A staring contest ensued, though it did not last long. Loki knew better than to argue when he spotted the familiar gleam there. What would be the point in lying anyway, when this Borforesaken rasp had so ruined his famous silver tongue? After another moment or two of internal debate, he finally wilted.

"If you already knew I knew, why not say something sooner?" he asked.

"You'll need to learn someday that those who eavesdrop often hear things they don't like."

"And those who refuse to eavesdrop often hear nothing worth hearing at all."

"You could simply quit lurking around and speak with us face-to-face."

"And risk the conversation turning to naught but insults targeting me? You'll have to forgive me for preferring to 'lurk' for what morsels of information your friends deign to offer you in secret."

"There was no secret."

"Oh?" Trapped as he was with his hands bound to the table, Loki's only escape was to avert his eyes to the rain-streaked window near the table. "If it was common knowledge, why not bring it up yourself without having to pry it out of me?"

You let go of him and held your hands up in a galactic sign of surrender that he could only see out of the corner of his eye. "I did not wish to upset you unduly."

"Upset me? Is that what you think? You think that I'm upset that my people have established a settlement in this Realm and are attempting to move on?"

"Aren't you?"

"Obviously not!"

Once more, Loki felt instead of saw your probing look. He folded his arms across his chest and carefully avoided so much as turning his head in your direction. This seemed to succeed in getting you to drop the subject; you said nothing else. Then you pushed your chair away from the table with an almighty screech and a firm, "Let's get you packed, then."

He couldn't help rising to his feet after you in his panic. "What?"

"Let's get you packed," you repeated. "New Asgard awaits the coronation of its king."

"Let it wait! Forever, if it must!"

"Why should it? Natasha's told me all about how badly you want to rule."

"Wanted. Wanted. That was a different time. A different me!"

Loki's heart had not hammered so hard since the moment of the Snap. Distantly, he realized that the exertion did not cause him as much pain as it used to. But would it be enough?

You did appear to notice his desperation, for you paused in some gesture that seemed to have caused his toothbrush to float out of its cup. Silence fell. He realized you were waiting for him to explain himself. Of all the cruelties you had enacted upon him, this perhaps might have been the cruelest of them all.

"New Asgard—" His breath hitched. Loki licked his lips and tried again, "New Asgard little needs yet another descendant of Odin on the throne. Let Brunnhilde keep the crown. I want it not."

Though admitting as much made him in ache in a way Thanos's assault had not, Loki knew the years since that assault had changed him. Between his inglorious defeat on this very planet, the series of humiliations leading up to Ragnarök, and his near-death among the Asgardian refugees, he had learned to see himself more clearly. Leadership did not suit him as he'd once convinced himself it had. And besides, what good would it do for what remained of the spirit of his childhood home? Being among his people again would only remind him more sharply of what he'd lost—their true ruler amongst the most grievous of those losses.

"Then what do you want, Loki?" you asked softly.

He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Thought hard about his answer to your question.

It came without as much thought as he'd expected. So few of his responses were even possible anymore. But those that were surprised even himself. He wanted to learn the subtle ways of Midgardian magic. He wanted to memorize the patterns of the stars in this Realm. He wanted to eat vegetables and fruits and grains grown by the power of his own hands. He wanted to look after his chickens until they died at venerable ages. And to do all of that, any of that, there could be only one reply:

"I want to stay here," he whispered, so quietly he did not even know if he wanted you hear him.

But hear him you did. A dazzling smile the likes of which he'd never seen before spread across your face. Then, without giving Loki a chance to grasp the meaning of such an expression, you rushed forward and threw your arms around him in a suffocating embrace.

"Then stay," you breathed in his ear.

The surprise he felt at your sudden closeness dissipated rapidly. Soon, Loki wrapped his own arms around you in turn. He did not know how long the two of you stayed tangled up like that before you finally released him. But when you did, you looked so smug that he couldn't help but add:

"It's not as though I have any choice in the matter. I'd die in a week without your care."

"Oh, that." The smug smile transformed into a smirk. "I've been giving you placebos for months now. You're as mended as you'll ever be."

His jaw dropped nearly to the floor, causing a glorious peal of laughter to tumble from your mouth.

"You whined so much. What else could I do?" you asked by way of explanation.

"You fox!" he said, though he couldn't find it himself to be truly enraged. It was the sort of thing he'd have done to his brother, after all. Who would have thought he'd have found a kindred spirit in the middle of nowhere on Midgard of all places?

You neared again, now gazing directly into his eyes. "But you love me."

"That," Loki said as he cupped your cheek and brushed his thumb over the [color] skin there, "I believe to be unequivocally true."

******

More time passed, on the Podunk little rock Loki had once schemed to make his own just as slowly as it did in the greater, emptier galaxy. Seasons passed. The half-obliterated woods around the cabin grew thicker and greener every summer. Native creatures once sparse in the area returned in larger numbers.

There were no servants to lay out his clothes, nor banquets with food-laden tables as far as the eye could see. But there were fruits and vegetables brought forth by his own hands, homespun tunics created with care, and fresh eggs in abundance from his ever-increasing brood of chickens. There was bright sunlight by day and warm candlelight by night. But best of all, there was you.

Well, most of the time you kept close to the cabin you both called home. Nearly five years to the day since the Snap, Loki stood alone in the kitchen. He hardly ever wandered far afield those days. What reason had he to do so? Surely Ross had not been the only Midgardian eager to see Loki pay for his crimes, and Loki was hardly a welcome visitor at the Avengers headquarters on the other side of the forest—which was the second most common place to find you, and where you'd traipsed off to during the still-dark hours that morning.

Loki found himself worrying over his pot of stew more than he'd have liked to admit now that it had grown dark once again. Not about the stew, not this time; he felt he had accomplished making a perfectly edible, if not very exciting, stew with produce from the garden you and he had canned that fall. Given that he'd hardly been offered much opportunity to create purposefully edible meals as Asgardian royalty, no one could deny this to be a culinary accomplishment on his part.

You hardly ever kept him waiting this long for you to return from the large, ugly compound. He could not begrudge you going to see friends. On the other hand, he knew how the remaining Avengers still felt about him. It was the same way he felt about them. If any of them had the silver tongue he had had once...

Before he could spiral into the possessive behavior he inclined toward despite your frequent admonishments, he heard the sound of footsteps—barely. Light elves moved so lightly he would not have heard your approach had he not been listening so closely for it. The door swung open shortly after this noise, and you stepped inside the room already filled with lit candles.

"I'm home," you said cheerily, and unnecessarily.

"So I see." Loki gave the pot below him a pointed stir. "Did you enjoy your time with your...friends?"

"If you're going to be a sourpuss, I won't give you your surprise."

"I hardly want whatever gift the lovely Natasha might have sent along with you."

"It's from me. Do you want it? Yes or no?"

He knew better what you meant by the appraising look you shot him: Play along, or pay the price. "Please," he said as flatly as he could. Though you never used your considerable powers to hurt, he knew that an outright refusal on his part would probably wind up with him sprouting a pair of donkey ears for the foreseeable future, or something equally annoying and hard to explain when your neighbors inevitably came by to mock him.

You grinned despite his obvious lack of enthusiasm. One of your fingers made a series of shapes in the air. Then, out of seemingly nowhere, your familiar basket appeared next to Loki's elbow. A simple blue-and-white checked towel covered its contents.

"Open it," you said when all he did was squint at you.

It wasn't moving, so Loki took that to mean lifting the fabric would not be dangerous. Nestled underneath sat a pile of off-white mushrooms with brain-like knobs atop the stems.

"We went a little over during the meeting. I knew you'd have already started dinner. When I stumbled on these little guys on my way home, I picked them up for you as a treat."

All fear of Natasha finally convincing you to give him up died away for the moment. Loki pressed his lips together in a smile. "They're the perfect addition," he said, pulling the recently-cleaned cutting board toward him and starting to chop.

Your smile grew as you walked around him to gather bowls. "You're welcome."

"So what went on that took so long? Rewatching footage of Captain America's glory days?"

Instead of chastising him for his snide tone, you simply answered: "I thought you said you didn't want to be involved in anything we got up to."

"I don't."

"Then let's not talk about it anymore."

Loki spilled the sliced fungi into the pot with something of a startled expression. You would normally find something of note to tell him after a two-hour conversation with the Avengers, and yet you had nothing to relay after being with them all day?

"[Name], what are you hiding?"

"Is the stew ready yet?"

"You're trying to distract me."

"No," you drew the word out as you sat the last utensil on the table. He caught a flash of mischief in your [color] eyes. You bared your teeth in a wicked grin. Then you sauntered forward and looked him up and down before you slid your hands up his shoulders to interlock them behind his neck. "This is me trying to distract you."

You pressed your mouth to his without sparing him a moment to retort. Loki did not forget the thread of the conversation, per se, but kissing you back seemed of greater importance than pursuing the matter. Who cared about the inconsequential scheming of those who had already lost everything? Certainly not him, not when, egged on by his enthusiastic response, you smiled against his lips and surged forward. He had no choice but to let you push him onto the nearby counter to allow you space to work.

"Still curious about what I got up to this afternoon?" you asked during a brief pause.

"Not in the slightest," Loki said honestly. He cupped your face to pull you closer to him again.

By all rights, it ought to have turned out to be a very good day: a stew with fresh mushrooms; your eagerness to touch him, even simply as a distractoin. Loki might have been perfectly content to remain distracted had something not slammed open the door just as something besides dinner began to heat up.

You whirled to face the intrusion—but you moved no further, frozen, it appeared, by the massive shape moving through the doorway.

"Thor?" you asked.

"Thor?" Loki echoed, bewildered.

The shape crossed into what little light the multitude of lit candles allowed, and still Loki could not believe it. Whoever had burst in could not be his brother. His brother was dead, not to mention Thor would never let himself go to such a degree. This being looked thicker and flabbier than Volstagg on his worst days. They also had stringy hair and a scraggly beard that obviously had not been washed in some time.

"You followed me?" You sounded outraged, which typically spelled trouble for the offending party.

Thor—or whoever the shape was—did not spare you a glance, terrified or otherwise. Their eyes remained fixated on Loki's face, and as Loki met their gaze, he felt a spark of recognizing flare hot and painful somewhere deep inside his stomach.

"I had to see it for myself," the apparent stranger rumbled.

And that was all it took. Loki slid off the counter and stepped around you. A torrent of emotions constricted his chest. The room around him spun. After a minute or so of thick swallowing and struggled, he managed to open wide his arms and step in Thor's direction.

"Brother, you're alive!"

Thor did not meet Loki's cheer with any of his own. "So this is where you ran off to hide."

Loki felt his smile slide off his face. "Pardon me?"

"I thought you were dead. I mourned you."

"As I did for you. I thought surely Thanos—"

"I should have known your vanishing was nothing more than yet another trick!"

"Well, I confess to using a smidgen of magic to get me here, but—"

"We needed you. The galaxy needed you. I needed you!"

With every statement, Thor's voice grew louder and louder. Rarely since his brother's exile had Loki seen him so enraged. He stared as the noise washed over him, and allowed his arms to drop to his sides. These stayed there when Thor took another step in Loki's direction.

"Perhaps it was a lie. Perhaps you always intended to aid Thanos in achieving his wicked goal."

You stepped forward to put yourself between the two men. "Hey. He was in no condition to fight. If he'd gone to Wakanda, he would have died for sure."

"As he had me believe he already had for five years. My brother chose his own life over half the galaxy." Thor's eyes flicked disdainfully between you and Loki, a gesture at odds with the bright red of his face. "But I should not be so surprised. Loki has always been a coward."

"Don't you—"

"[Name]."

Loki spoke the word softly, but his tone must have gotten through to you. Now you spun to gape at him. He merely held his hand out in a quelling gesture and told Thor:

"You're right."

It had taken a long time—eons, really—for Loki to accept the truth about himself—a long time and nearly dying more than once. If he could go back and change things, he would. How different would things be for everyone if Loki had never spent that time being coddled by the Grand Master, or masqueraded as Odin for so long, or agreed to invade Asgard, or even led Laufey through the secret passages to the palace? Always he had served himself. What argument had he that a different choice would not have saved untold lives just as Thor claimed?

But as things stood, Loki could not even change Thor's thunderous expression with his admission.

"You have changed, Brother, and not for the better."

"Perhaps I have changed," Loki conceded. "But is this not what you have always wanted for me? Living quietly, not causing trouble? Happy?"

"Happy at what expense, Loki? At least I am still trying. I am still fighting!"

"Are you? Judging by the state of your facial hair, I'd hazard a guess that's a more recent development."

"Loki," Thor growled through clenched teeth.

"You say I've changed for the worst? Fine. No one is inviting you stay for dinner and to get to know the new me or the person I've chosen to stay with."

Silence rang audibly through the dark cabin, punctuated only by the bubbling stew. Thor inhaled slowly. His shoulders migrated to up around his ears. Loki braced himself for a tirade that would have made their father proud. Instead, Thor's voice was flat and emotionless as he said:

"As usual, I will clean up your mess, Brother. And if in doing so, you are the one lost, perhaps this time I will not feel the grief of it."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than did Thor leave. He slammed the door behind him with such might that the whole cabin shook and several candles blew out. The sound of Thor's heavy footsteps faded quickly into the dark woods beyond.

"Loki?"

He had not realized he'd been staring at the place Thor had stood until you spoke his name. All he did in response was blink. Your warm hand enveloped his own, though this did nothing to quell his sudden tremors.

"Loki."

Words failed him. For the first time in his memory, Loki could think of nothing appropriate to say. Pain did not hold his tongue, nor injury, simply the fact that nothing would come to mind; nothing seemed to matter. But speak he must, or he risked standing there in the dark forever.

"How long?" he asked.

"What?"

"How long, [Name]?"

The fingers around his tightened.

"How long have you known my brother was alive?"

At last, he wrenched his hand free and turned to look at you. Tears sparkled in those eyes that had only a little while ago been gleaming with affection. That told Loki enough. He no longer needed you to answer.

"All this time," his mouth felt thick and clumsy, so he tried again with little improvement: "All this time, you knew. You knew Thor lived, and yet you allowed me to go on assuming otherwise!"

"If you'd just let me explain—"

"What is there to explain? I've spoken to you of the guilt I've felt over his death. You, of all people, knew what he meant to me. You could have freed me from all of that, yet you did not! What, did you believe I'd choose him over you? That I would flee to New Asgard the moment I realized my last remaining family member lived?"

The words were not as sharp as they once could have been. The tone itself was no longer smooth as velvet. They rose and fell like an overused axe. But the blow landed. You flinched.

Loki found he did not much care whether you did so because his words were true or his hysteria had been laid plain his voice. His throat throbbed where Thanos's fingers had once crushed it. Perhaps Loki should have let him. Dying that way would have hurt less than now, here, by the phantoms of everyone he had ever hurt.

You said his name again. He shook his head. Almost blindly, he stumbled through the shadows to the door, yanked it open, and stepped outside. Loki stood there on the step for a moment or two, breathing in the acrid smell of burning stew behind him before he pulled the door shut. Then he staggered off toward the quiet trees with little idea of where he was actually going.

The cold quickly leached beneath his tunic, but that he could handle. What he was not so sure of was his ability to handle any more heartbreak that night or, indeed, for the rest of his life.

******

Loki returned, for where else had he to go? The idea of turning to the Avengers for shelter he found laughable, and surely Thor wouldn't want him anywhere near New Asgard. Besides, Loki would miss his chickens—and he'd been in enough relationships during his life to know that an occasional nighttime walk did wonders to cool his head.

Wonders, yes; miracles, no. Although each sunrise since the Snap had felt like a miracle to him, the days following Thor's sudden reappearance twisted into a discomfiting slog. Each day followed the same routine: Loki would wake in an empty cabin with a neatly folded pile of quilts on the floor near the bed; he would eat the single roll on the counter; and he would gather his things and move mechanically through the chores that needed done even when he felt as though he were limping through a void. These would fill his time until he returned to the vacant bed to start again.

Two days he followed this routine before it grew too tiresome to ponder continuing for the rest of his life. What if his path led nowhere but to day after day after Borforsaken day of banal work and loneliness? Loki might have been prepared to accede to Thor's claims of his cravenness; he had not been so prepared to consider death at Thanos's hands may have been the better option for him.

And so he turned to the one activity that could stop him from thinking about the end of life: The beginning of it.

The cool spring midmorning appeared perfect for transplanting the pea seedlings he had picked up from their growing space on a windowsill back in the cottage. He knelt on a flat cushion of sorts in the midst of the mostly-bare garden to get to work. All he could hear was the chilly breeze blowing through the surrounding trees, their new leaves still too young to provide any noise of their own. His pale fingers worked the freshly-tilled dirt as he mentally measured the distance between plants.

Perhaps if Thor had had occasion to see Loki like this, elbow-deep in homemade chicken compost, he might have understood things a little better.

"Loki."

He did not turn away from his work at the sound of the familiar voice.

"Can we talk?"

"About what?" he asked evenly.

This was the first time you'd approached him since the argument. Obviously, you'd returned home a number of times, but only after he'd fallen asleep, and only to disappear again before he awoke. Loki half-expected you to leave again. A long pause followed his question before you surprised him by asking:

"Are you really going to make me say it?"

"I think that's the best way to open up negotiations, yes."

"Negotiations?"

Loki carefully piled a small mound of dirt around a recently-planted sprout. It waved back and forth as if to say thank you.

"I'm sorry," you said.

He adjusted the bamboo trellis embedded in the dirt behind his peas.

"I should have told you as soon as I found out about Thor. I didn't know for long. Natasha only told me when she knew he'd be coming to help them out, but it wasn't fair to you to keep it a secret."

Slowly, without moving his head at all, Loki sat up. His filthy fingers curled around his knees.

"I didn't want you to leave. I knew how much Thor meant to you, and I knew you'd go to New Asgard to see him. And what then? Would you ever come back?"

"That's hard to say when I was never given a choice in the matter."

Another length bout of silence. This time, however, Loki could hear something else over the wind: A soft sniffling that nearly had him moving to comfort you—nearly.

"You were right, Loki. I was scared."

"Scared of what?" he asked.

How could you be scared of anything? He himself had witnessed the power at your fingertips more than once, and Steve and Natasha certainly had tales to tell of your prowess. Surely nothing on Midgard existed to threaten the likes of you after all this time.

Now he risked a glance at you out of the corner of his eye. Never before had he seen you distraught. Flustered, yes. Angry, absolutely. Undone, perhaps fewer times than he'd have liked. But he could tell even from a distance that you hadn't slept since your fight a few days ago. Pronounced bags clung the bottoms of your eyelids, and you rubbed your hands together in obvious agitation. The urge to go to you grew stronger still.

"I've never belonged anywhere before you came along," you said in a rough whisper.

All his willpower shattered at the moment your voice broke. He half-rose, twisting toward you, unable to feign absolute disinterest any longer. Perhaps he might have drawn closer to you, had you allowed him. But you held out your hands with the fingers wide to indicate you needed him to keep his distance. Loki did, although he said softly:

"[Name], that's not true."

"I kept trying to find a place, but no one wanted me."

"You have the Avengers."

"They aren't—" You gripped your elbow tightly in the opposite hand as you turned your face away. "They aren't home."

Before he could speak—whether to dissuade you, or ask for more details, or even to put an abrupt end to this tête-à-tête, he had no idea himself—you barreled onward, apparently under the impression that if he did not let you say all this now, Loki never would.

"I've been here for a long time, a very long time. People move into that building. People move out. Sometimes they bother to get to know me. Most of the time they don't. It doesn't matter either way, because they all leave in the end. Steve, Natasha, Rhodey...they'll all leave permanently someday, too."

So intent on listening had he been that he flinched when you looked directly into his eyes.

"You're the only one who's ever stayed.

He could think of nothing more to say than, weakly, "If you're so desperate for company that someone too injured and cowardly to leave is appealing—"

"You are not a coward, Loki."

"This is not about me," he said, then added, "unusual though that may be. For now, we are talking about you."

"I don't know what else it is you need me to say."

Truthfully, he needed nothing. An apology had been all he desired, and you'd returned with that and an admission that he'd been in the right. So slowly, as though he were trying to sneak up on a snoozing Thane Regin with a pair of shears, he stepped in your direction.

"Pretending for one moment that your attachment to me is anything other than imprinting on an admittedly very charismatic invalid—"

You snorted.

"—why not tell me? Why not come to New Asgard with me?"

The hand on your elbow went pale with the force of your grasp. "I am not as Asgardian."

"Neither am I, as you well know."

"I am tired of trying to figure out where I belong. I tried just about everywhere. I will not be cast out again." You blinked at him fiercely. "If you want to go, you should go. Be with your people. Reconcile with your brother. I only wanted to let you know that you are precious to me, even if I acted poorly because of that."

The spell your gaze cast on him snapped. You both averted your eyes. It did not take Loki so long to recover. He found himself drawing in a deep breath of remarkably fresh air before closing the remaining gap between you. When he took the hand dangling your side, you inhaled sharply as you looked up at him. Encouraged, he squeezed your fingers.

"I will reconcile with my brother, when he is ready. But you're my people, [Name]. You ought to know that by now. Maybe I will desire to visit New Asgard someday. Know this, however: As long as you want me, I shall always return to you."

After another pause, you returned the squeeze. "I think it's safe to say I'll always want you. But I might be glad for an occasional break, now I think of it. It would be nice having my bed to myself from time to time."

"Without me to warm it, you won't sleep a wink."

Rather than reply, you broke into a smile as dazzling as the sun hanging over the forest. He felt the familiar warm hook of your palm at the back of his neck, then you pulled his lips down to yours for a long, lingering kiss.

"I love you, you realize," he murmured once you parted.

"Oh, my gods," you said breathlessly through a half-open mouth.

"Yes, I am rather impressive. It comes from centuries of practice. Why, my last partner—"

You cuffed him lightly on the back of his head. "No, Loki. Look!"

So he pulled away and did as you instructed—and what he saw took his breath away as well.

Where his sparse rows of tender pea shoots had been only minutes ago, now a multitude of plants threatened to crowd one another out. Extra trees and their roots intruded on the edges of the garden. Bees, butterflies, and birdsong filled the clearing in which you and Loki stood.

He felt his throat contract, but no words left his mouth.

You, meanwhile, lifted shaking hands to your mouth. "They did it."

"Who?"

"The Avengers."

"Did what?"

"They did it!" Now you shrieked, practically dancing in place. "They figured it out! They got the Infinity Stones! It worked!"

"The Infinity—is that what you were all doing that day?"

"Tony and Bruce made a time machine. We weren't sure that it would work, but..."

"It did," Loki finished for you, somewhat dazed himself.

It was back. It was all back. He did not have to leave this place to know that not only had Thor and his friends done the impossible to bring plant life back to this planet, but that beings of all natures would be returning across the entire universe.

But, of course, the galaxy never had been willing to give Loki Odinson a lingering period of peace and happiness. Every time he felt he stood once more on solid ground, the realms tilted on their axes. This occasion would be no different. No sooner had he realized the sparkling tears of joy in your eyes were reflected in his own than did a shadow fall—literally—across the entire woods.

Above, soaring through the once-radiant blue sky, winged a great, dark ship.

Thanos had returned.

In the span of a breath, you bounded in the direction of the Avengers' home. Loki felt all the blood rush from his face. That he remained standing was itself a miracle. He felt suddenly dizzy. His heart rushed. Black crept into the edges of his vision.

Just before you disappeared into the newly-thickened forest, he managed to croak, "Where are you going?"

You stopped to look over your shoulder at him. "You don't need me this time around. I'm going to go help them fight."

Loki pressed his shaking lips together. He could stay. He could stay, and be as safe as anyone could be when Thanos and his children arrived. With a shake of his head, he crossed to you.

"I'll always need you. We'll go together."

You smiled again. Then you both ran, hand in hand, towards the clangor of battle erupting from not too far away. What would come of this whole affair, Loki did not know. What he did know was that if this was dying, death was not so nearly as horrible as he'd feared.

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satinprose · 5 hours ago

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bare.

synopsis — ‧₊˚ ⋅ you have been alone for so long that she sees you fit to be her perfect next victim. your neck untainted, unmarked, and ripe. best of all, you will not complain when she invades. you will let her in unabashedly, as the helplessness of your biggest fear has led to chilling desire.

content warnings — ‧₊˚ ⋅ MINORS DNI ( 18+ ) agoraphobic!reader x vampire!ellie. dark content. dead dove do not eat. you have been warned. ellie is stalking you. home invasion. panic attack + paranoia. dom!ellie, sub!reader. blood. humiliation, degradation, and praise. dacryphilia. dumbification. feminine!reader. dub-con. reader is legitimately afraid of people and will not leave home for anything. technically reader is also a virgin but it isn't mentioned. pet names used: rabbit, darling, good girl.

　　　　m.list　wc — 2.1k　mdni, please ♡

a steaming cup warms your hands, the tea burns your throat on the way down. you have made relentless routine of this; each night, watching the liquid swirl in your mug and trying to find some semblance of amity in it. hoping it will calm the constant whirring of your mind, bring the storm to a halt.

because being alone for so long has caused irreparable damage to your psyche. it doesn't take a shrink to figure that out. your fear has ravaged you, and you can no longer even remember a time where you didn't feel this paranoia in your bones.

it is paranoia. seeing the shadow of your lamp-shade in a different angle has you fearing the worst, eyes deceiving you. hearing the wind outside—perhaps it knocks over something in the garden—you'll then spend your night with a butcher knife by your bedside. just in case.

currently you cannot be certain that you aren't being watched. there's no proof of such, nothing to go by aside from the nauseating feeling in your gut.

you exhale slowly, but your breath shakes. your own voice can startle you, hence you only ever mumbling nonsense to yourself. "nobody's here. m'okay. it's just me..."

just you.

it's so stupid. stupid, how it hurts to be so lonely. you desired it at first, pulled away from the world and protected yourself from its dangers. your neighbours don't have the pleasure to even know your name. you work remotely, and order everything to your house. don't own a car, don't need to leave your bubble.

it was everything to you at first. now there is more and more pressure and you cannot pop the bubble for the life of you—thinking about it feels like a death sentence, and you'd rather serve your life in here.

there's always been a small itch. even if it was just wishing your bed had double the body heat at night, you were still wanting at least somebody. affection is a bare necessity for humans. it's the one essential that you have deprived yourself of for so many years now that your chest has a consistent ache. you cannot indulge in what you used to love—even a movie kiss is enough to make you cry. of envy.

once upon a time you shed tears over the thought of catching up with friends. it's dangerous. you could be hurt. what if those people aren't your true friends? they could betray you. you were distrustful of the world enough to hyperventilate over opening a window.

now, there's an odd balance between fear and yearning. you weep at the idea of another person's understanding. to be known. feeling like you matter. everybody wants to know that they matter, but you've felt worthless.

thinking of the simplest acts of love, be it a hug or somebody squeezing your hand, gives a troubling reaction; it turns you on. you are alone enough to crave anything, you would be grateful for anything. you are sure that somebody could say your name and you'd feel yourself become wet.

"just me." you have to keep reminding yourself. between sips of tea to soothe your rather unused voice and frantic looks around your living room, you continue to reassure yourself. "i haven't touched the doors since monday's food delivery. everything is still locked. should be. m—maybe i should check..?"

your heart beats in your chest, thumping like a rabbit's foot as you slide your empty cup onto the coffee table. and then— an egregiously loud clunk comes from outside.

you sit up straight immediately, panic shooting through you. it sounded like someone walking up your porch. can't be. but that is exactly where the noise came from.

your feet drag along the floor and your knuckles squeeze the handle of your knife as you head towards the front window. you push the curtains back and take a look. and that feeling as though you're being watched, it feels more powerful than ever right here, but you see nothing. nobody.

this has happened a few nights now.

you flip the lock and pull up your window to peek around the wall—in case someone is hiding. the knife shakes in your hand but you hold it almost like you are cradling it. it's your lifeline.

"nothing. god, why does this keep happening?" you ask yourself. with the back of your hand, you rub your eyes until your vision is no longer blurry, and then you close the window. "i just need to go to bed."

the knife lays on your nightstand as you slip under the sheets of your bed, a lavender candle flickering in the dark to get you feeling a little number. at least that is your intent with lighting it.

"aren't you gonna blow that out, darlin'? that's a safety hazard."

a stranger. in your house.

your heart sinks, you choke on your breath, and you weakly reach out for your knife. but in seconds, she's knocked it out of your grip and climbing onto your bed.

"you think that little blade can hurt me? you're cute, rabbit."

she speaks like you have known her forever. as though you should know who she is. and her own nickname for you—rabbit—pushes you deeper into fear. you are prey. scared, paralysed prey. the one place you thought you'd always be safe in is now a far cry from what it once was, so even if you felt like fleeing... where can you run to?

"get off," you say, the words leaving your lips in a gasp. "leave me alone, h— how'd you get in?"

the wide look in your glassy eyes makes your predator chuckle lowly. her pupils are blown out like yours, not of fear, instead of lust. short locks of auburn hang down as she crawls over you, and when she finally speaks, you notice how terribly sharp and precise her canines are. they shine under the candlelight.

"awh, i only came to tell you you forgot to lock your window, rabbit. i wouldn't want anyone to come hurt you. other than me."

"fuck." you squirm only to have her place a hand at the base of your neck, pushing you against the mattress. "don't hurt me, don't, please. i'll scream—"

"don't you fucking make a sound," she growls. "i was kidding, darlin', i won't hurt you unless i have to. you just have something i need... and if you're good for me, i'll be outta your hair before you know it."

somehow, you only feel like walking yourself even further into the bear trap. it's the pet names, you think. but when her cold hands are sitting you up, positioning you like a particularly breakable piece of porcelain, it becomes harder not to let this hit your cravings.

fear and lust. so similar, yet so different.

there is a genuine gush of warmth between your thighs and you whimper broken words. "what do you want from me? you're scaring me."

"i'm sorry for scaring you rabbit, i know this is difficult for you to handle, but you're being so brave," she whispers. a slender hand squeezes your jaw and she grins in the dark, tilting your head up. your neck is bared for her, and she sighs dreamily. "i'm so hungry, you know?"

"hungry?" you repeat, eyes cast down at her. she holds your face so tightly your cheeks smush, it pushes a couple of tears out of your eyes.

but she is hyper-focused. zeroed in on your neck, and finally it clicks for you. her ivory skin, cool touch, and those teeth. fangs.

"so hungry, and i've had a craving ever since i found you, rabbit."

so many questions are at the tip of your tongue now and yet you can't utter a single word. because she's looking at you like you are her entire world. you are useful to her for something, it's a first in your life.

her hair tickles your neck, and as you sit tense and trembling, the predator's lips travel along the expanse of skin. she searches for a vein. and she groans gutturally as she tears into your neck and spills your blood, the cloying taste hot on her tongue.

your sniffles, mewls, and pleas fall on deaf ears, but she attempts to soothe you somewhat by rubbing up and down your side. you swallow thickly, neck stinging angrily the longer she takes from you. mortification floods your eyes even more, spilling over in thick and salty tears, when you notice your stomach swirling and flipping whenever her hand moves lower.

stupid, lonely, desperate, stupid girl. you can't help squirming even if it means her teeth tug harder at your tortured skin. you can't help feeling a little satisfied by how gentle she is even despite the danger she carries.

when she finally pulls away, a trail of your body's wine trickling down her chin and some oozing from the wound in your neck, it's because she had used her knee to nudge apart your thighs. you cover your face immediately, roughly wiping a mix of tears and snot from your face as the vampire inspects between your legs.

"i knew you would be easy," she says with a hum. it's a pleased sound. "you're supposed to be scared of me, darlin'. you might just have the worst survival instinct i've ever seen."

shame pools in your stomach and unfortunately for you, her mean words only seem to make your cunt wetter. your panties, a white pair, are translucent. completely soiled through, even without touch, because her hand stroking your waist meant absolutely everything to you in the moment.

"poor rabbit," she coos. her finger runs along the inside of your thigh and she likes the way it triggers a tremor in you. but she doesn't stop there. she slides her finger over your core, quickly and gently, but you splutter out the cutest moan over it. "my name is ellie."

she intended to take her feed and then leave. she intended to remain nameless. she wanted to have her fill and then take amusement in watching you scamper 'round your home in terror for days to come. but you have given her another need to fill, and she couldn't resist telling you what name to cry.

"it's okay, i've got you now," ellie murmurs, hoisting you into her lap and pressing your back against her chest. "keep those legs open, and i'm gonna make this feel all better, yeah? so tell me, do you always spread your legs for a stalker, or am i just the lucky one?"

"n- no," you reply, voice meeker than it's ever been.

"no? no what?" ellie asks. she's speaking gently against your neck, fingers now rubbing slow circles around your clit. she doesn't bother to remove your panties, instead deciding she likes them on more. she was flattered to see how ruined they are.

"i d- don't do this," you stammer. "for anyone."

"well, that's incorrect." ellie reprimands you with a small tap against your cunt. "what do you call this? you're laid out for me like a hooker."

"sorry."

"mm, sorry, huh?" she chuckles meanly, now going back to rubbling you. she can feel the way your pussy throbs against your thinned-out panties, and her fingers pull back wet as if she had touched your skin.

you, on the other hand, can barely keep your eyes open. your face is hot and shiny, ruined with tears. ellie can't hold back a smile at the sounds you're making—hiccuping sobs and blubbering out her name, your hips beginning to buck under her petting.

you can barely speak anymore, only crying out sounds that are vaguely close enough to her name. ellie is just pleased to have brought you to such a state with barely any touch.

she nods slowly along to all of your distressed mumbling, and as you approach your climax she can't help but to take a second taste of your blood. your neck is so close, she couldn't help the flare of her nose every time she caught a whiff. ellie licks a stripe up your neck, 'cleaning' the wound—but your sensitivity grows to be too much, and very soon your vision whites at the corners and your body jolts and tenses under her hold.

once you are finally limp, ellie coos and presses a last icy kiss to your neck. "good girl. you're the best, you know, darlin'?"

nothing but a small and disgruntled whine leaves your lips.

you were useful for something. since she feasted upon your lifeblood, ellie's face has more colour to it, there's a slightly warm buzz to her fingertips.

even after she leaves, you still feel grateful. she tucked you back into your bed and wiped your tears, blew out your candle, and even picked up your knife again—placed it back into its rightful position on your nightstand.

she touched you. she told you that no other victim could live up to the hospitality and selflessness you showed her.

ellie told you she'll be back next week, and you don't even feel afraid of it.

🏷️ @kaykeryyy @abbyslvrrr @cowgirlvi @absfemme @madewithsilk

thank you for supporting my fics. planning on making a permanent taglist soon, if anyone is interested. ♡

#agoraphobic!reader is a new fav for me #(as someone who struggles with this very fear)#.ellie #ellie willams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #tlou2 x reader #tlou x reader #ellie williams x fem reader #vampire!ellie #ellie williams smut

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moonlitcelestial · 21 hours ago

Text

Chapter 11

Beyond the Lens - Logbook Videographer!Reader x OT8 Ateez

W/C 8,491

🎥 Series Masterlist 🎥

☽ Masterlist ☾

Inspiration Pictures

Pinterest Board Masterlist

Previous Chapter (Chapter 10)

Disclaimer: This story is purely a work of fiction. It is not meant to assume or mock anything about Ateez, Atiny, or anything relating to what I do not know about being a videographer.

Contains she/her pronouns.

The logo in the center is mine. Please do not reuse or copy.

I strongly recommend looking at the inspiration pictures and the Pinterest boards (which will be updating as the story goes on).

General Warnings: slow burn, cussing, conflict, angst, fluff, and obliviousness.

CHAPTER WARNINGS - Angst and conflict.

Let me know what you think! <3 Moonie

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

You woke up the next morning before your alarm went off. Fucking typical. Taking in your surroundings you felt a warm presence at your back, you turned yourself around to look at Mingi. He was out like a light. His gentle breath was fanning over your face with how close you were. You took your opportunity to study his face. He is absolutely breathtaking. His skin looked so soft in the small amount of artificial light that was filtering through the curtains. He looked so relaxed and at peace. You were half tempted to brush some of his stray fringe away from his face. Just as you were about to do what your intrusive thoughts were telling you to. He made an incoherent noise before mumbling “You know it's rude to stare.” He peeked his eyes open to look at you. Your eyes met his beautiful chocolate brown ones before you realized what was happening. Your brain short circuited. You scooted your head and shoulders back as far as he would let you. He chuckled and squeezed you closer to him, cradling your head and bringing it back to his chest. He tucked you under his chin.

“We need to get up soon, I think we have about ten to fifteen minutes before my alarm,” you grumbled.

“That’s ten to fifteen minutes I can spend cuddling you to make you feel better. After yesterday I never want to see that side of you again; if we can help it.” you could feel the rumble of his chest as he spoke. That was more soothing than you thought it would be while reading those smutty romance novels.

“Thank you again for checking on me. I didn’t realize I needed it.” Once you were in that kind mindset typically all you wanted was to be left alone. Your team could pick up on that and that is probably why they hadn't come to check on you. They were very good at respecting the boundaries you had set the first couple of times you got like this.

“I would do it again in a heartbeat,” he said, kissing your forehead. “You are a part of our family now so you can come to us about anything.” Your heart swelled, this man was the definition of perfection. He knew what you needed to hear and what you needed in general before you even knew yourself. You just laid next to each other basking in the other's warmth for the next few minutes. Your quiet moment was interrupted by your alarm. You had forgotten that you set the alarm to be their song Wake Up. Giggling, you rolled over and turned it off. He grumbled and got up out of the bed after you turned around. You grabbed your glasses and did the same. You stretched your hands over your head and groaned when your back popped like a glowstick.

“Are those my lyrics?” Mingi asked in surprise. You turned around to look at him. He was already staring at you. You hadn’t even realized that your shirt rode up enough for him to see your lyric tattoo. He walked around to your side of the bed and looked at you with the softest look you had ever seen. His hands were held up to his chest like he was keeping them at bay. “Can I see?”

You nodded, turned to the side a little, and lifted your shirt just enough for him to see his lyrics in your handwriting. He bent at the waist to peer down at the tattoo and ran the tips of his fingers over it, leaving goosebumps in his wake. You felt a chill go up your spine from how gentle he was being. You fell even harder for the man standing in front of you.

“Out of all of the things, why did you get this?" he asked in a soft tone; his eyes never left your hip.

“It's a reminder to myself that I am a strong independent woman. That in the end I will always be with myself even when others leave. That it is just me, myself, and I.” You said quietly but loud enough for him to hear.

“Well, I can assure you it isn't just you anymore. You have all of us. We will always be here and you can't get rid of us that easily.” He spoke looking at you through his eyelashes from where he was bent over. “Whose handwriting is that?” he asked after a moment's pause.

“It's mine. I took so many tries to get it to where I liked” It had taken you almost an hour orf rewriting the words over and over to finally get it perfect. Aurora had teased you for it later because you did it on the old company's time, but you wouldn't change it for the world.

“Your handwriting is beautiful.” You wanted to respond that he was beautiful, but you held your tongue. You didn't need to add a half asleep confession to your long list of fuckups.

“Thank you, Mings, all of this means the world to me.” You took a step away from him as he straightened to his full height. “You better keep this secret, I don't need the others to have more ammo to use against me.” You joked, you could see how Hongjoong would let it go to his head already. Something that he helped write and produce being tattooed on someone he knows. Especially because you had this long before you met them.

“I will do my best, but you know things have a habit of slipping from my mouth without thought.” You laughed. You could feel yourself getting back to normal all because of this man. Today was a new day and you couldn't wait to enjoy it to the fullest. Mingi left after a quick hug and a kiss to your forehead. He promised to not say anything unless given express permission. You were left to your own devices and decided to take a quick shower before going downstairs for a very early breakfast. After doing your body wash shower you slipped on your Sleep Token tee and your basketball shorts. You topped the look off with your black rose Nikes, rings, and a necklace. After about twenty minutes you made your way downstairs and were met with a lobby full of eight very energetic men getting breakfast. You were actually ahead of schedule, which surprised you considering Ateez was involved.

The moment you stepped off the elevator Wooyoung yelled your name, getting the attention of anyone in the vicinity. You froze and all of their heads whipped to look at you. You caught Mingi's gaze and he smiled widely at you. You had donned a mask and ball cap just in case but you knew that any one of them would recognize you because of the tattoos. You hadn't even realized one of them moved until you were scooped up off of your feet by San. You squeaked and laughed as he spun you around in a circle like he was reuniting with you after months of not seeing you. He set you down and threw an arm around you bringing you to the rest of the boys and crew. Once you got close enough you greeted all of them. Each of them smiled at you warmly, You returned the gesture behind your mask, you knew they would see the wrinkles at the corner of your eyes. They didn’t push for you to sit with them, almost in silent understanding that you needed to check in with your team. You could see your team huddled up at a table toward the back of the breakfast area. You grabbed your food and walked toward your team, you owed them an explanation. Yuhno grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze as you passed him. You squeezed back and continued on your way.

“Good morning,” you said sitting in the open chair. They all looked up at you as you took your mask off. You could see the relief in their eyes, you knew you worried them.

“Are you doing better today?” Willow asked, looking at you with curious eyes. She was nursing a cup of coffee with a half eaten waffle on the plate in front of her.

“Yes, after the conversation in the car about terms of endearment I fell into my old horrid habits. It also upset me that I haven't found the love that you guys have and I am older than the three of you. It made me think about how all of the people have settled and gotten married and have started having kids; hell even my mom remarried. I was just jealous in a sense. I'm sorry about the way I acted yesterday. I know I shut you out and that you were worried, but I didn't know what else to do.”

Aurora reached out to grab your hand on the table. “We are sorry too, we know that is a touchy subject for you and we joked about it at your expense. I want you to know that not dating is not your fault. It is the stupid people that havent seen your worth or have used you for their bigger goals. You are gorgeous and powerful and you deserve all of the love in the world. We want you to realize that you have us and eight very beautiful men that are here for you when times like that strike you do not have to go through that alone.”

“Old habits have a tendency to die hard. I know I still have some that aren't healthy.” Willow solemnly added.

You smiled at the girls with watery eyes. They were two of the best people you had in your corner. “Actually, my plan to isolate myself didn't work out so well.” You looked over your shoulder at Mingi who had sat facing you. He caught your eyes and smiled before resuming a conversation with Yuhno. All three of them looked at you tilting their heads.

“What happened?” Forrest finally spoke. His green eyes were trained on you taking every minute expression in. He always tended to stay out of the emotional things within your group but he knew when to step in. Thankfully this time wasn't one of those times.

“Mingi came to my room and comforted me.” You said as you turned back to the group in front of you. “He knew exactly what I needed without me having to ask. He ended up cuddling me to sleep, and to be completely honest it was the best sleep I have had in a while. I'm not sure if it was because of him or because I wore myself into exhaustion.”

“You don't sleep well even when you are exhausted. It was totally him.” Willow smirked into her coffee.

“Fuck off, I’m still processing,” you said flipping her off and stabbing the waffle you had in front of you. “I might have come to a realization in the middle of my haze last night before I fell into the old habits, if I tell you you have to act normal.” The three of them nodded at you. You motioned for them to move closer, they did and you took a deep breath. You had to do this before you lost the nerve.

“I might be in love with them.” Willow choked on her coffee and almost spit it out onto you. Aurora smiled at you and held out a hand to Forrest. He grumbled and pulled out his wallet. You watched them in horror as he handed her a twenty. You felt the heat rush to your face, they bet on you.

“You fuckers,” you whisper yelled. All of them laughed at you and looked up at something behind you. You felt hands settle themselves on your shoulders. Jumping slightly in your seat you tilted your head up to see Seonghwa. Once you realized it was him you relaxed. He rubbed your shoulders lightly as he spoke.

“We are about to head out to get things started this morning.” You glared at your team. They laughed at you and nodded at your silent request to keep this between the four of you. You tilted your head back to look at him to find him already looking at you. You smiled at him and leaned into his stomach with your head. He widely smiled at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You looked back at your team and they were smiling at the two of you.

“I need to go grab my backpack but after that I will be ready.”

“I can go with you up there, I need to grab something too,” Seonghwa said, running his thumbs over the back of your shoulders.

“Okay, let's get going then, I don't want to hold you guys up.” You stood and his hands slipped from your shoulders. Grabbing your trash from the table you could feel the others watching you intently as you walked over to the trash can. You stuck our tongue out at them before you pulled up your mask and turned the corner out of their sight. You heard a chorus of laughter. Seonghwa was a couple of steps behind you and you could feel his hand at your back as you waited for the elevator. Once it dinged you hit the button and looked at him, when the doors had fully closed you wrapped your arm around him and pulled him into a side hug.

★☆☽ O ☾☆★

“She seems to be in better spirits this morning.”

“Does that have anything to do with you sneaking out of her room this morning?”

“Maybe, maybe not, I am not at liberty to tell you the specifics.”

“Okay, I am just happy that whatever you did helped. Not hearing her speak or seeing her smile last night really worried me.”

“She has a control over us that she doesn't even know she has.”

“We are all so whipped for her and we aren't even in a relationship with her yet.”

“Hopefully in the near future we can change that fact.”

“Y'know for attempting to whisper you guys are very loud.”

Every one of the boys jumped at the statement. They looked at your team with sheepish smiles.

“Can you blame us? We can't get her out of our heads.”

“We know, just a heads up, she is the same way with all of you.”

The team watched as they all lit up. All of them had the widest smiles on their faces. They were looking between each other and some of them grabbed each other to steady themselves. It was then that your team knew they loved you.

★☆☽ O ☾☆★

“You worried us, I am happy you're back to halfway normal today.” Seonghwa said squeezing your hip.

“You have Mingi to thank for that, he comforted me when I didn't even know that I needed it.”

“He has always been able to tell if someone needs that kind of comfort. I hate that he had to learn that because of his own issues, but it has made him the amazing person he is today. Him and Yuhno are probably the most experienced of all of us in that aspect. We have had to lean on them a lot, and they would love for you to be comfortable enough to do that with them too.”

“I know, I just hesitate to let anyone in, even my team. I can however tell you that I am more comfortable with all of you guys than I have been with anyone since my team came together.”

The elevator dinged and you walked out with Hwa. He let go of you to step to the room next to yours. You must be on the far end of the three rooms they got for your team. You unlocked your room and looked over the state of things that had been flung in your numb state last night. Your clothes were all over the dresser, the bag haphazardly flung on the floor away from it. You looked to see everything plugged in, but some of them were not on the chargers you normally used for them. You saw the camera bag and laptop bag on the desk thankfully you had half a mind to not treat that like shit. You walked over and grabbed your bags, slinging them over each shoulder.

You reached down to grab your phone and realized that it was exploding with notifications. You opened it to look and noticed an article. Clicking into it you saw some tabloid posted an article of you and your team walking into KQ. The header read, “Could we be seeing a new group from KQ entertainment?” You read through the article and laughed loudly at the absurdity of it. They had snapped several pictures of you and your team carrying things in the building on your first day from weeks ago. The article speculated that you were going to be debuting a secret project with Ateez. This was the most entertaining thing that you had seen. You silenced your notifications and grabbed your smartwatch. putting it on you started back to the door. You stepped into the hallway and saw Seonghwa waiting next to your door. He looked up from his phone and smiled at you. You could tell he was tired.

“So get this, someone took a picture of my team and is speculating that we are the newest group to join KQ.” you said as a way of greeting.

His eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

“Look at this,” you said, whipping your phone out and going to the article. He scrolled down to read the entirety of the article before letting out a loud laugh. His laughter was contagious and it sent you into another fit of giggles. Both of you were hanging onto each other. You heard the elevator ding and you both straightened up and then looked over to see Hongjoong. He looked at you two curiously like you had lost your minds, noting the silver lining both of your eyes from laughter.

“What's going on with you two? It's been like ten minutes since you disappeared.” You handed him your phone and he scrolled. He chuckled and handed it back to you. “Come on, let's go to the vans. We can discuss this more soon.”

You nodded and straightened following Hongjoong, Seonghwa a step behind you. You saw Seonghwa reach out to Hongjoong and clasp his hand giving it a squeeze as they smiled at each other. As the elevator dinged Hongjoong brought Seonghwa’s hand up to his mouth to give it a quick kiss. You smiled at them, their simple affection was something you admired about them. It was rare that you saw any of the boys do anything close to PDA because you were almost always in public with them. Either that or they were in front of a camera. In these quiet moments you saw the love they held for each other.

The elevator dinged and you stepped out first. You were blinded by flashing lights, you shielded your eyes and saw people lined up outside. You turned to Seonghwa and Hongjoong and ushered them back into the elevator. You quickly pushed the button to the next floor up. They looked at you weird as you did so.

“Someone must have leaked the hotel we are at. There are a shit ton of people out in front of the lobby. I didn't see anyone else so I assume that they are already out in the vehicles or went somewhere more private.” You sighed as you readjusted your bags that shifted with your quick movements. “I have been in this kind of situation before and sadly it never ends well. We will have to find another route out to the cars so we don't get mobbed without your security.”

The elevator dinged and all of you stayed on while you pushed the button for your floor. Thankfully it was high enough up that people wouldn't be able to see any of the boys. You looked at both of them and Hongjoong looked pissed. If steam could come out of someone’s ears it would definitely be happening right now. “We were told this hotel was safe, specifically because they had security everywhere and it was in a rural location. We were assured that this would not happen. That's why we weren't covered or just staying in our rooms for breakfast. This is fucking ridiculous.” Hwa squeezed his hand and he looked quickly at his lover. His shoulders dropped just slightly.

You placed a hand on his other bicep squeezing slightly. “We will be okay, I am sure that your managers and security will have this covered. We need to get a hold of someone and have them come get us. I know you must be worried about the others, I am too, but we have to be calm and rational so we can get back.”

The elevator dinged again and you were met with several pairs of eyes looking at you. There were two people guarding the doors but they stepped aside to let the three of you pass. You took in everyone standing in the hallway, there were three people missing. Forrest, Aurora and Willow.

“Where is my team?” you asked, stepping off the elevator. Forgetting about the two that were behind you.

“We got mobbed in the parking lot by sasaengs (a term for an obsessive fan who invades the privacy of idols, I couldn't find a specific name for ateez antis, let me know if you know it), they fell behind and got a little scraped up. They are okay, just shaken up.” A man in the middle of the hallway said not even looking away from his phone. When he did finally look up at you he was looking down his nose at you, like you were just some crazy groupie. He must have been a manager, but in the few weeks you had been here you had never seen this man before, nor had you been treated like this. You already did not like this man, especially because he looked strikingly like your father.

“Excuse me?” You asked, rage was lacing your voice. You saw some of the members tense slightly. In the time they had known you, you had never taken that tone with anyone. They all had the common sense to look a little frightened of you, all except for the man in the middle.

“That is putting it lightly,” Yuhno scoffed. You looked over to him and he didn't look happy either. He was holding onto Mingi’s waist protectively, Mingi had his back facing you huddled as close to Yuhno’s chest as he could be; he must have gotten shaken up too. Wooyoung and San were standing next to them with their arms crossed. Yeosang and Jongho were toward the back of the hallway. Jongho was holding Yeosang’s hand while they were speaking in hushed tones. For him to be doing that so openly around people that weren’t your team and the boys must have meant something really bad happened.

“What actually happened?” You asked, turning back to the person who spoke, you were really trying to give this man the benefit of the doubt. You set both of your bags down gently next to the wall closest to you. He scoffed at you like he did not owe you an explanation. You felt the anger flare. Alright, if this was how he was going to play then game fucking on, “If you do not tell me the truth in the next ten seconds we walk, and you will be responsible for losing a very good asset to the company. I am sure that the CEO would not be very happy. This is a fucking safely hazard for everyone involved and I absolutely will not be putting my team in danger. Especially after the tabloids are posting and assuming we are a new group.” Shock rolled across the faces you could see. You felt Hongjoong and Seonghwa come up behind you. You could only imagine the pissed off looks the both of them supported. The boys looked at the manager and he didn’t speak. Most likely out of fear of the repercussions that he was about to face, or because the boys behind you were equally pissed looking. This man was not going to be the kind to admit what happened, you knew it. If he was anything like your father he would deflect.

You could feel the eye roll from Yuhno, “After Hongjoong went to get you we were heading to the cars when we got mobbed. Your team got pulled back through security and thrown aside so the sasaengs could get closer to us. One of them grabbed Yeosang and several of them grabbed Mingi and tore up his clothes. Thankfully San and I were close enough to stop it otherwise it would have been worse,” Yuhno spat toward the manager. You looked at him in shock. You looked at Mingi more thoroughly and you could see the small holes in the sleeves of his shirt and the collar was stretched out. You looked at Yeosang who was almost curled in on himself. It felt like all of the air left your lungs. Absolutely the fuck not. You stepped up to the manager and got in his face. He was just taller than Yuhno and Mingi which made it even better when he took a small step back. This was your chance to finally put someone like your father in his place and you would take every opportunity to do so. You pulled the rage from the depths of your soul and looked back at the man.

“We were focused on the boys and not letting them get hurt any further. We couldn't do much for your team after they got yanked back.” the man in front of you said trying to cover his ass. You seethed, this wasn't just about your team anymore, it was about your boys too.

You could feel the anger seeping from every pore of your body. The heat rises through your back to settle on the nape of your neck. You took another look at the man, he had some small semblance of fear flicker across his face before putting his mask back on. “Do you hear yourself right now?” You practically yelled, “My team aside for the moment. They,” you motioned to the boys standing scattered in the hallway. “should have never gotten hurt in the fucking first place they are the people you are literally paid to protect!” You resisted the urge to grab his face and make him look at the boys. You knew that if you did it would have made things worse.

“Did you even fucking protect them? Look at how shaken they all are.” You threw your arm out motioning to them again. You watched as he quickly glanced at the boys around him.

“For fucks sake look at Mingi, do you not see the holes in his sleeves or that his collar is stretched out? It took one glance for me to see that, have you even looked at any of them? Do you not see how terrified Yeosang looks? You spared a glance in his direction and he was watching you with wide eyes. Jongho had a similar look on his face, only he was supporting a small smirk.

“Do you not have any common fucking sense? You created a bigger opening by letting my team get snatched, and look what fucking happened. What the fuck were you thinking?” you shot rapid fire questions at the man standing in front of you. You had stepped up to him again to get in his face and started poking him in the chest with the end of each question. Each jab into his chest made him take a small step back. He may have been taller than Yuhno but it was your turn to look down your nose at him. You had half a mind to put this man on his ass in front of everyone, to showcase how incompetent he was.

“This could have been so much fucking worse. You should have done a more thorough investigation of this place. The boys could have gotten seriously hurt. You are really fucking lucky that I am employed by your company and not the other way around otherwise this would have been an entirely different situation. If it were up to me all of your asses would be fired.” you said, shoulder checking him to go to the room you assumed your team was in.

“That was so hot.”

“Now is not the time.”

You walked in to see Forrest standing by the beds. Thankfully he seemed to be okay. You looked at the girls who were sitting on the bed. You gasped as you looked at them. Both of them had scrapes and bruises all over their arms and what you could see of their legs. You walked up to them and took them in further, thankfully everything looked cosmetic.

“We are okay, Y/N. We made it back quick enough that nothing else happened. No thanks to the fucking security guards.” Aurora said with a scoff.

“They only targeted the women within the group didn't they?” You asked Forrest. He nodded.

“Motherfucker,” you ran a hand through your hair. “If we do not get new accommodations and a new security team we are not participating in the shoot. I am so fucking pissed, this is not okay, if it were up to me all of them would be fucking fired.”

“We know, we heard. You sounded hot.” Forrest said with a chuckle. You looked at him and cracked a smile. He always knew how to lighten the mood. You sat down between the two of them and pulled them into a gentle hug. After a few minutes you heard a light knock on the door Forrest opened the door and Seonghwa and Hongjoong entered.

“We need a team meeting, can you two get around okay to come to our suite?” Seonghwa asked, looking over the two sitting on the beds. Aurora and Willow nodded as they struggled to stand, you could immediately tell that they were going to be super sore. You followed the couple to their suite, the rest of the boys were scattered around the room. They all winced looking at Aurora and Willow. You gently helped them to sit down on the portion of the couch that the boys had left open.

“I have spoken with the CEO, in light of the events the current security team has been fired and temporarily the Xikers security team will be escorting us. We will not be continuing the shoot today, it has been postponed until tomorrow. This will put us behind schedule but I don't think any one of us wants to do it after the incident today. We will be moving to another hotel as soon as it is safe to do so. We also want to make sure that everyone is feeling a little better by that time.” Hongjoong said, looking at Aurora and Willow and then back to Yeosang and Mingi.

“We will also be putting out a statement to help curb the rumors that are going around about your team. Hopefully that will help the insanity that happened today. If not, we discussed the possibility of hiring you guys your own security,” Hongjoong said and then he turned to look at you. “We also wanted to thank you for stepping in and defending us as well as being half way level headed. I don't know if I would have had the same restraint.”

You snickered at them and said, “that's calm, I have been worse. Generally I am okay, but when it comes down to the people I love and the projects I do it gets personal. I had half a mind to lay him out on his ass, just to prove how horrible at his job he really is.”

“She actually decked a guy for getting too close to me once, she has really leveled out since then," Willow cut in with a chuckle at the memory. He was being far too pushy at a bar and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“She has also done the same to someone for calling me and my husband slurs.” Forrest piped up. That one was while you were out and about with all of the couples from your team. He cornered all of you in a mall and while Forrest held back his husband no one thought to do the same for you. You socked him and walked over his body on the ground and left the store.

“Hey, both instances were absolutely called for and you fucking know it.” you said crossing your arms with a smug smile. “I have lots of surprises up my sleeve.” They all looked at you with wide eyes.

“Y/N’s anger issues aside,” Seonghwa said with a smile thrown your way. “We are so sorry that this happened, and we sincerely hope it doesn't happen again. We will be staying here tonight and then leaving tomorrow first thing. They are getting together the security team as we speak but it will take some time.”

“Okay. As long as we don't leave the floor I don't have an issue with staying. I will warn you, if this happens again, we are going to break the contract. While I enjoy being with you guys I am not willing to put the safety of my team at risk.”

“We understand, and really hope that it doesn't happen again.” Hongjoong responded.

“I hope so too.” You said looking over to your team.

“Y/n?” You turned to look at Yeosang, who had seemed to have recovered a little.

“Yeah Sangie?” You questioned tilting your head in curiosity. The more you looked at him the more you could see how horrified he looked, while he may have recovered a little it was still noticeable in his posture. He was making himself as small as possible against Jongho. He had arms protectively wrapped around himself as if they could shield him from everything.

“Thank you.” He said in a small voice. Your heart shattered at the look on his face. Before you could think you had walked over to him and squatted in front of him. You took one of his hands away from his arm and settled it in both of yours. You could feel his tremor, it was most likely significantly worse from everything that happened.

“Yeosang, as long as I am around I will protect you and everyone else in this room with my life. I truly care about all of you. You guys have become a part of my family as I have become a part of yours. We have not known each other for very long but I would not trade this group for the world.”

“You mean that?” He asked you, looking at you with the biggest eyes ever. He looked like a small child.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” You said taking a hand away to put on your heart. He let go of your other hand and threw himself off of the couch at you. He knocked you on your butt but you caught him and hugged him back. You could feel the wetness of his tears seep through your top.

“I was so worried about you from yesterday, and then all of this happened and I was so scared.”

“I'm okay, Yeosangie, I'm right here and I don't plan on going anywhere. You guys have me as long as you will allow. I was worried about you too, as soon as Yuyu said that they got you and that they got Mings I was so pissed. I couldn't stand the thought of any of you getting hurt. You are okay, I am okay, we are all okay.” You stroked his hair as he cuddled into your neck. After a couple of minutes you could feel his breath starting to level out from its erratic pattern. You looked at Jongho who was sitting next to where Yeosang used to be. He nodded at you with a small smile. You smiled back at him and looked at the rest of the men you could see. They were all smiling at you and Yeosang.

He pulled away from you and looked at you. You cupped his cheeks wiping his tears away. You put your forehead against his and rested there for a minute. You pulled away from him and placed a kiss on his forehead. You got up first and helped him get up and settled back next to Jongho. He curled into him and smiled sweetly at you.

You looked at Mingi next, he was sitting on a loveseat with Yuhno across the room. Yuhno had an arm round his shoulders and was holding his other hand. He still looked pissed. You slowly approached the both of them. Mingi had changed clothes since the last time you saw him. You could see the tear tracks on his face. As you got closer you held your arms out in a silent question. He looked at Yuhno and separated himself from him to get up. He practically threw himself at you much like Yeosang had. He had curled himself around you and was slouched to fit his head in the crook of your neck. You felt a few tears start to seep into your top. You gently stroked his hair and rubbed his back.

“I've got you. Everything is going to be okay, I promise. I'm here in silent support if you need me,” you whispered to him. He started sobbing at your words. Yuhno stood up and wrapped the two of you in his embrace. He was to your side closest to where Mingi had rested his head. You heard another couple pairs of footsteps approach you. You turned slightly to see San with Wooyoung trailing shortly behind him. They both wrapped themselves around you and Mingi. San was on the opposite side of Yuhno and Wooyoung had taken up the spot behind Mingi closest to San. Mingi had started to calm just slightly but you could still feel the lingering pent up tension in him.

“Mingi, we are here. There is no judgment, you can let it all out.” He almost collapsed, his knees had given out. Thankfully you had enough support from the other boys that they slowly helped you lower him to sit on his knees on the ground. You had sat on your knees feeling the twinge from your surgery site but you didn't care. More footsteps approached you and you assumed the rest of the boys were coming over. You felt Seonghwa first, he had come up next to Yuhno. Jongho was directly behind you and pulled you slightly to let you lean some of your weight on him. Yeosang had come up and was between San and Jongho. Hongjoong was the last to get there, he put himself between Yuhno and Wooyoung.

You all leaned on each other. You rested your head on Mingi’s. You felt each pair of arms around the pair of you. This smallest part of you relished in this feeling, knowing you most likely would not have something like this again. You felt Mingi’s breath pick up just slightly, he was falling further. You pulled your head away from him, almost knocking into Seonghwa and Yuhno. You gently started running your fingers through Mingi’s hair again making sure to apply a slight pressure to keep him from falling too far.

“Listen to our hearts and breath Mingi. We are all here, your loves are here, you are protected here with us.” You stopped speaking and reached into your mind to remember some of the ways you pulled yourself out of this state. The first thing that came to mind was the sensory countdown. “I need you to tell me five things you can feel.” it has worked for you, maybe it can help him.

You heard him attempt to take a deep breath, “I feel your hand in my hair, I feel Wooyoung’s heart against my back, I feel San’s arms around me, I feel Yuhno’s arms too, I feel Hongjoong’s cool rings against the back of my neck.” between each thing he listed his breath stuttered, he was trying to regain some sense of control.

“Perfect, now I want you to tell me four things you can hear.”

“I can hear your voice, I can hear your heart, I can hear everyone breathing, I can hear the air conditioner.” You hadn't even heard the small whine emitting from the air conditioner until now. He had caught something you didn't, which was a good sign.

“Good job Mingi, what about three things you can see?” He picked his head up slightly, everyone adjusted to look at him. Some of the boys had let go and were just sitting close.

“I can see you, I can see Yuhno, I can see Jongho.” You saw his eyes becoming clearer. Tears were still falling but they were nowhere near as quick as before.

“Perfect sweetheart,” You tucked some of his hair away from his eyes. Cupping his cheeks and slid your thumb across the wet skin trying to get rid of the tears.

“Now two things you can touch.” You watched as his eyes started to clear. He was coming back to you.

“I can touch your hand and I can touch Sannie’s hand” He reached up and put one of his hands over yours on his face. You smiled at him as he leaned into your touch. You looked down to see San holding his other hand, Mingi had a white knuckled grip on him but he didn't seem to mind in the slightest. You smiled at San and looked back at Mingi.

“Good, now I know this one is weird, but one thing that you can taste.”

“I can taste my salty tears.” He had looked up at you fully now. His tears had stopped and his breathing had returned to somewhat of a normal level. His eyes were red and his face was puffy.

“Hi, welcome back to us, I am so proud of you.” You put your forehead against his, he was still leaning heavily on you. Thankfully Jongho had been supporting the two of you. You heard some of the boys get up which made you lose some of the warmth that had started seeping into you. The only ones that were left sitting with Mingi were you, Jongho, and Yuhno. Yuhno got up first and helped Mingi stand. You watched as he supported him, Mingi wobbled as he stood. You scooted away from Jongho and he got up shortly after. You knew you would need a minute to get a good feeling back in your knees so you stayed there. Jongho lingered until you asked him for help. He wrapped his hand around yours and tugged you up with ease. His hands were slightly callused from holding a microphone so often and from playing the guitar. You smiled up at him and squeezed the hand that held yours. He let out a small smile and let go to walk back to his previous spot next to Yeosang.

“So, since the rest of the day has been cancelled, what are we going to do? We can't really leave the floor.” You looked over to Willow.

“We could have a movie day or a game day, I know Y/n brought her switch!” Aurora chirped. You turned and looked at her with a smile.

“I like that idea," Mingi said with a hoarse voice. Your heart broke again. You walked over to the small fridge in the kitchenette and grabbed him some water. You brought it back and smiled at him when he thanked you. You might have to ask someone about going to get some throat soothing tea later.

“Whatever the princess wants, the princess gets," Yuhno said with a pat to Mingi’s shoulder. You could feel the playful eye rolls from all of the rest of the men surrounding you. He was most definitely the one that did most of the spoiling of Mingi. He definitely deserved it after this morning. You had walked back over to your team and sat down in front of Aurora between her knees stretching your legs out. Forrest still seemed to be on edge because he had not sat down. You looked up to him and raised an eyebrow in question.

He sat down beside you between Aurora and Willow and grabbed your hand. “I really did not like how today was handled. I feel like it would have been better if we had you there. Then I know they would have been taken care of.”

“I understand, we will all go together from now on, they can focus on the boys and we can focus on us and if need be we can focus on them.”

“I almost stepped in to give them a piece of my mind, then I heard you and was relieved. I really did not want to step in or get Asher involved.” He said solemnly. He had a tendency to rise to anger very quickly. He was also just as protective as you, if not more. Generally he always lets you handle most things but if it came down to it he would get involved. Typically it did not end well for both parties if he stepped in.

“Yknow, Asher might actually come in handy in this situation, maybe he can make some recommendations about a good security team.” You thought back to when you had first seen Asher in action. You first saw him on TV protecting a high level government official while he gave a speech. Forrest tended to watch anything that he could to be able to see his husband; even if he was not remotely interested in what was actually happening.

“I'll think about talking to him, even if it would be to find us just one other person. Sadly you can't protect all of us.” You smiled at him and squeezed his hand. You knew that he was always stressed about situations like this, especially seeing the aftermath on Asher.

“Come on, quit chattering and let's watch a movie.” Seonghwa said, turning on the tv. All of the boys collectively meandered over to the large couch as Seonghwa picked a comedy movie. You stayed seated on the floor with Forrest and Wooyoung sat on the other side of you. He grabbed your other hand and started running his thumb over the back of it.

“I am glad you are feeling better after yesterday. I'm also glad that you handled the situation today; I think Joongie-hyung would have tainted his idol image if he handled it.”

“Like I told Sangie, you guys are my family, I would do anything for you.” He squeezed your hand and rested his head on your shoulder.

The rest of the day consisted of many snacks, movies and some games. It may have started out absolutely terrible; but when you are surrounded by good company any day can be made better. After several hours and many corny and cringy movies you had finally retired to your room. You did your nightly routine and crawled into bed. Hopefully your body will cooperate with you and let you sleep tonight.

Once you finally relaxed you started floating between dreams and reality until someone was knocking on your hotel door. You turned to look at the light outside. There wasn't any other than the artificial light of the streetlamps. You kicked the comforter off of you to the foot of the bed and groggily dragged yourself up and to the door. Looking through the peephole was not an option because you were as blind as a bat without your glasses. You unlocked the deadbolt and opened it to squint at whoever it was that disturbed you at this early or rather late hour. Wooyoung and San. They both looked tired but you could tell that they hadn't been able to fall asleep. You stepped aside and let them into the room without a word. They walked past you and made themselves comfortable leaning against the headboard of your bed. You closed and locked the door again before making yourself at home between the two of them.

“Couldn't sleep?” You yawned.

“No, we were struggling and figured you might be too, so we came over here cause misery loves company right?” Wooyoung quietly responded with a light chuckle. He had grabbed your hand and started fiddling with your fingers. That was another habit you noticed he picked up like Yuhno. No matter where he was or who he was with he always had to have some kind of contact with someone; and he had gravitated toward you more as the time passed.

“You are always welcome with me no matter the time.” You murmured looking between the two of them. You had really come to appreciate their quiet support of your absolutely horrendous sleeping schedule.

“We really do appreciate you, noona.” San yawned. You looked over at him right before he laid his head on your shoulder. You could tell the both of them were getting closer to sleep the longer they sat with you.

“Come on cuddlebugs, let's lay down and all try to get some sleep.” They shifted downward first and once they had stilled you shifted downwards and laid on your back. Wooyoung grabbed the blanket at the foot of the bed and threw it over the three of you while you moved to get situated. Both of them shared a glance before they moved to lay against you, San wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close to him. Wooyoung had thrown his leg over one of yours and cuddled closer to you. You had shifted both of your arms to hold onto their shoulders. Their heads were resting on your chest. You had half a mind to start playing with their hair. They intertwined their fingers together over your stomach. You smiled at the two of them. You knew that they were made for cuddles but you hadn't expected this; maybe a few little things here and there with you, but never something this intimate.

You could feel their breathing even out. The even rhythm finally allowed your body to be lulled into sleep.

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

Next Chapter (Chapter 12 Coming Soon)

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Thanks for reading! <3 Moonie

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sentientcave · 1 day ago

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Sparrow

Chapter 3 - Funeral Rites

Read on AO3

Contains: Alcohol, Flirting, John Price POV, non-canon character death (it's a funeral), smoking, Nothing too wild

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~4.4k - MDNI - 18+

John surveyed the cemetery, watching the crowd of mourners in funeral blacks or military jackets mill around, making conversation amongst themselves now that the service was over. The sun sat in an awkward spot in the sky, too low for the tall trees to provide any shade, but still many hours from setting, this time of year. The funeral had been meant to be a small one, a simple late-afternoon graveside service before they lowered the casket into the ground. Half of the local base looked like it had turned out to bury their once quartermaster, although, from what little Nikolai had told him, the man had retired from the military many years ago, to manage his late wife’s company. Maybe it was just the nature of small towns for all to turn out for anything. John had spent much of his life in London, and the only event that could really bring the city together was a football match. Even then, there was always a good chance that the city would be divided on who they wanted to win.

This was a far cry from London in every respect. A little town a ways from the nearest ‘city’, a cemetery by a lake, the smell of fresh water and pine trees on the breeze, warm and sunny in the summer rather than the drizzling, grey and wet weather that seemed to hang over both London and Hereford no matter what time of year it was. He had expected it to be quiet out here, but the buzz of cicadas and chatter of squirrels and birds seemed louder than the rush of traffic.

“Which one’s your niece?” he asked, nudging Nikolai. He looked tired, and had been smoking non-stop since he met up with John around noon, soothing some inner demon with cigarette after cigarette. He wasn’t exactly sure that the young woman they had come here to see was Nikolai’s niece, since the man had never mentioned any of his family before, but he had overheard her voice on the phone once when Nik had called her, and she had called him Uncle Kolya, so it was as near as he could guess.

He didn’t really want to be there, even if Nik’s niece was the most talented pilot in the world. He wanted to find Morgan, apologize, beg for a second chance.

“Speaking to the priest, dark hair, long sleeves.” Nikolai exhaled smoke, tossing his cigarette to the ground.

John zeroed in on the young woman Nik indicated, his heart lurching at the familiar waist length, nearly black curls. “What did you say her name was, again?” he asked, knowing damn well that Nik hadn’t given him a name to begin with.

“I didn’t. You would have looked her up.”

“Would that really have been such a problem?”

“Perhaps not. But I did not want you to decide who she is based on what Kate could dig up. Better to meet with no preconception.”

Too late for that. Although he suspected now that many of his preconceptions were wrong. “Should we go talk to her?”

“She will come to us. My sparrow does not like crowds. She will be glad to get away.” Nikolai shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, at a loss for something to do with his hands now that he wasn’t holding a cigarette.

“You really think she’s cut out for our kind of work?” John had seen a hint of fire in her, but he wasn’t sure that it was enough.

“Of course. I would not recommend her if I did not.” He shrugged lightly. “For the same reason you have use for me. Military is rigid. She can operate any vehicle and fix any engine. Quick, clever, learns on her feet. Well connected.”

“Still, she’s a civilian. There’s no reason she would want to risk her neck working with us.”

“She is much like her mother. Not a woman to sit behind a desk. If I thought she would be happy with a quiet life, I would encourage her.”

“Maybe she just needs some persuasion,” John murmured, watching the young woman weave her way toward them, stopping to have quick conversations with clumps of people, exchanging sombre words and clasped hands. She was close enough now to confirm his suspicion that she really was Morgan, and even more beautiful in the daylight, wearing a modest dress with lace sleeves to her wrists, although it hugged her curves all the way down to her knees in a way that made his mouth water. He could sense Nikolai giving him a sharp look, but he ignored him, unwilling to look away.

He’d thought he’d have to work hard to arrange a second meeting, but here she was, delivered to him on a silver platter.

Well, perhaps not a silver platter. She refused to look at him as she approached, reserving her wide, pretty smile for Nikolai. “Uncle Kolya, you came!” she said, throwing herself into Nikolai’s arms. “It’s good to see you.”

He folded her into a tight hug, smiling back just as widely. “Of course. I am sorry I could not be here sooner.”

“No, it’s alright. I know you’re busy. I’m just glad you made it.” She took a step back when Nikolai released her, finally glancing at John, her dark eyes sharp, but expression guarded, unwilling to show her hand until he did.

It would be better not to tell Nikolai about their meeting last night. “John Price,” he introduced himself, offering her a hand. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly (he recognized it now as a trait of Nikolai’s), but she stepped forward to shake his hand, willing to pretend they hadn’t already met. “Thank you. Morgan Renard.” She withdrew her soft little hand from his grasp quickly, not giving him the chance to hold on tightly as he wanted to.

“You look tired, varóbushik. Not sleeping well?” Nikolai asked.

“I’ll sleep better once this is all over.” She waved a hand toward the funeral dismissively. “I was hoping for something quiet, but some of Dad’s friends got wind of that and have a whole ‘celebration of life’ planned at the Legion after this, and as soon as there’s any mention of drinking involved, everyone shows up. I’ll have maybe an hour to myself before they’ll start looking for me.” She glanced at John again, and her expression turned a hair guilty. “God, I sound heartless, don’t I?”

“Oh, I very much doubt that you could be described as heartless,” John said, a purr of reassurance in his voice. She was just guarded, careful about letting anyone in. Something like this, with so many people making demands of her, was probably exhausting. He wanted to offer himself up as shelter, put an arm around her shoulders and hold her close. “Everyone mourns in their own way.”

She hugged herself, one arm across her ribs and the other on her shoulder, rubbing a spot there like it ached. “I feel like I did all my mourning months ago, and I’ve just been waiting for this to end.”

She looked vulnerable for a moment, impossibly soft. He’d already decided he liked her round face and stubborn chin, already knew how those soft lips felt against his own. She didn't look like the kind of woman that got her hands dirty, despite the strength in her grip. She just seemed too sweet to belong in John's world of gunpowder and blood. If he hadn’t already seen the fire in her, he would have dismissed her wholesale, would have thought Nikolai crazy for even suggesting working with her.

Although he rather liked the idea of coming home to a woman like her, of having her around, close at hand, he didn’t really care for the possibility of putting her in danger.

"What will you do now?" Nikolai asked. "Back to flying cargo?"

“Maybe. I don’t exactly need to. The company chugs along just fine without me having to do much, but I’m a bit young to retire.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, sneaking a glance at John, and away again when she realized he was studying her openly. “I’m going to take a few months off, check through the books. Maybe start getting the house ready to sell. It was too much space when it was just me and dad, now that it’s just me…”

She looked sad, left to drift, directionless. The captain in John knew he could give her guidance, could take the fire and steel under that soft exterior and forge her anew. The man in him coveted that softness.

“You’re really a pilot?” he asked, angling to get under her skin with the question.

Her eyes flashed, dark and flinty. “I am. And a good one. I’ve yet to meet a bird I couldn’t fly.” She hesitated, like she regretted the boast. “But I mostly run cargo up North. The occasional charter for hunters. Nothing too exciting.”

John tipped his head to the side, studying her. He sensed that she wasn’t telling the whole truth. Perhaps she’d done work with Nikolai before. Things she would hesitate to tell someone attached to the military, friend of Nikolai or no. “What do you usually fly?”

“A Mallard. She’s pretty heavily modified, but she’s still a beauty. The model is from the late forties, so she didn’t have the range and speed when my mother first got her.” Morgan lit up a little, brown eyes sparkling, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “She’s a reliable old girl.”

John couldn’t help but smile at her restrained enthusiasm. “Hope you get plenty of chances to take her up while you’re takin’ your break.”

“Oh, I’ll be back up there before long. Wasn’t built for life on solid ground,” she replied, hiding behind a blithe smile. “If I don’t have an engine humming through me I get antsy.”

"Perhaps you should visit me more, yes? It has been a little while since you flew a helo. Wouldn't want you to get rusty." Nikolai had an odd look on his face, a mix of pride and sadness. "I remember the first time you went up. Had the thing bucking like horse."

She laughed. “It was very different than a plane! Took some adjustment.”

“Still better than me! When your mother first took me up, I nearly crashed us into Køge Bay.”

“Really? You never told me that.”

“Well, I did not know how to speak of Lena then. It is easier now.”

“I know there are a lot of stories I never got to hear. But I would like to. I’ll bring Laika.”

Nikolai raised his eyebrows. “Laika? Don’t tell me—”

“My dog! Not a child. Jesus, Kolya, I would have told you if I’d had a baby.” She shook her head. “Got her a couple years ago, when dad first got diagnosed. I was spending a lot more time grounded, needed a project. She’s a good girl.”

Nikolai exhaled, looking relieved. “I’m glad. I worry, sometimes, that your ex-husband has wormed his way back into your life.”

“That’s why I got Laika. She’s not the guard dog I hoped she’d be, but she hates Danny.”

“Then me and her are kindred spirits.” Nikolai nudged John with his elbow. “My varóbushik is beautiful girl, but she married too young, to a—”

“Kolya,” Morgan said warningly. “It doesn’t matter now.”

"Is she looking for better?" Price asked, switching to Russian for a hint of privacy, although he wasn't sure why he bothered. By the look on Morgan's face, she understood just fine.

"Ask her yourself," Nikolai said, raising his hands slightly and backing up a step.

"I doubt you’ll be here long, English," Morgan snapped. "There’s no point in asking."

John raised his eyebrows, hiding his grin. ““Maybe you could give me your number. I’ll make sure I’m in town longer, next time.”

She crossed her arms, her stance widening automatically, defensively. “You’re planning on coming back?”

It was hard not to grin. Beside him, Nikolai lit another cigarette to hide his own amusement. “I get leave. Seems like a nice place to spend time.”

“You’d be wrong, unless you’ve got some sort of hard on for camping. But maybe that’s what this whole pseudo-military get-up is about.” Morgan unhooked one arm and waved at his outfit, indicating everything from his boots to his hat, her expression flat, unamused. She was still upset about what had happened the night before, by that look. Trying to drill the no that she didn’t really mean through his head. She was on the defensive, guard all the way up again. “There’s a provincial park nearby, but if you’re looking for something spectacular, you’d be better off going to Algonquin, or better yet, Banff. Go see the Rockies.”

He resisted the urge to tell her that he’d already found something spectacular. “Wouldn’t mind that. Maybe I can charter a pilot to take me. Get the lay of the land from up high.” He crossed his arms too, mirroring her stance, biting back a grin.

Her eyes narrowed. “Nikolai’s a pilot. Ask him.”

“Nikolai isn’t as likely to improve the view.”

“Does that sort of corny-ass line usually work for you?” Morgan asked. She was well and truly mad now. “Or are you breaking that out special for picking up a girl at her father’s funeral?”

Nikolai covered a laugh with a cough, clearly enjoying watching Morgan react to John’s attempts at flirting with barely-restrained hostility. Not that John could blame him. He was enjoying himself too. Maybe there was something of a schoolboy in him still, tugging on a pretty girl’s braids for attention, hoping that she’d chase him across the playground and wrestle him into the dirt.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. It was getting harder and harder not to grin outright. “Sure makes me sound a bit brazen. But I was breakin’ it out special.”

She glared at him. “Well put it back. I’m not interested.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop.”

Morgan didn’t seem to know what to do with the cession. She had all that fight in her body still, and now nowhere to direct it. “Well. Good.” She turned back to Nikolai. “Are you staying long? There’s a bit of a to-do at the Legion tonight, but if you can’t stick around, maybe we can do something tomorrow? If you come out to the house you can meet Laika.”

“We will come tonight. Or I will. I cannot speak for Price.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He had been lucky to get extra time with her, he’d take every moment more that he could get.

“I’m gonna go. I have a bit of time before anyone’ll come looking for me, and I need to clear my head before I listen to another old guy tell me about the Gulf War.” She gave Nikolai a hug and nodded stiffly at Price, walking away as quickly as she could, hindered by the cut of her skirt. She stopped a little ways away and unzipped a side seam in her skirt so she could take proper strides, revealing one leg all the way to mid-thigh. The slight modification was undoubtedly practical, but it also changed the tone of the dress from modest to enticing. It was not difficult to imagine sliding his hands underneath and getting a handful of her round arse, or kneeling down and hooking that long leg over his shoulder while he tasted her pretty cunt. Things he could have had already if he’d shut his damn mouth.

“You look like a wolf who has spotted supper,” Nikolai said. “Behave yourself, Price.”

“I’ve hardly said anything,” John protested, but he still didn’t look away as Morgan gathered her hair back into a low ponytail and crammed a helmet onto her head. He didn’t look away until she had climbed onto a motorcycle and gunned it down the street and out of sight. By clearing her head, it seemed that she actually meant speeding over pavement with a rumbling engine between her legs. He’d never been so jealous of a vehicle before.

“You have said enough.” Nikolai lit up yet another cigarette. “She is my family. Try not to break her heart, da?”

John made a small attempt to look contrite, but by Nikolai’s unimpressed expression, he failed to convince. “Not worried about my heart, eh?”

Nikolai snorted and clapped John on the shoulder. “No. You aren’t good enough for her anyway.”

If Nikolai really didn’t want him pursuing Morgan, he wouldn’t have introduced them at all, and certainly not like this, springing John on her rather than warning her ahead of time that he was bringing a friend. He hadn’t mentioned anything about the work yet either, leaving it to John to broach the subject. The problem was that he no longer wanted to broach the subject— Skilled pilot or no, Morgan seemed too soft and too sweet (despite her defensive prickles) to belong on a battlefield. She belonged in a nice house with a white-painted fence and a garden, giving John a smile and a kiss when he came home from deployment. It was far easier to place her in an idyllic daydream than imagine her sparring with his boys in the barracks or practicing her shooting in the range, let alone steering a helo through a hail of bullets during a tricky exfil.

No, it wouldn’t do to put her in the line of fire. But he did have the opportunity ahead of him to charm her into giving up her phone number, at least. And then, from there, he could work out the rest. She was already thinking about moving, so it might not be all that tricky to convince her to go somewhere more convenient for him to drop by more often. Maybe even tempt her all the way overseas, if he went about it the right way.

Figuring out what the right way to go about it was would be the trickier bit. He didn’t know enough about her yet, aside from her name and the little that Nikolai had told him. She was had money, so she didn’t need someone to take care of her, at least in a material sense, her previous marriage to some bloody muppet had made her distrustful, and she balked at any indication of commitment or deeper interest. She would be a tough nut to crack.

He mulled it over, half his mind dedicated to Morgan, the other half paying attention to Nikolai.

Nik probably noticed his distraction-- Few things got past the man-- but he let John get away with it. There was a lot to consider.

The Legion was a low brick and concrete building, with a bar and cheap tables and chairs that could be folded up and put away if the event in question called for it. The floors were linoleum, scuffed up and stained, and the fluorescent lights buzzed a bit under the low hum of conversation. A place somewhere between a rec hall and a cheap bar, nearly identical to the one back home in Hereford.

It was a laid back kind of affair, a slideshow rotating through pictures on the wall, a few people getting up to tell stories about Michel Luc, including Morgan, who told a funny story about a family trip to France, where he had gotten increasingly irate at the locals insistence that they couldn't understand him even though he'd spoken French from the cradle. He didn't pay attention to the other speakers, but he did watch the slides for every trace of Morgan, slotting more information into the dossier he was building in his head. A few stood out to him, one where she was squinting down the scope of a hunting rifle, her father beside her, pointing forward, and the following one, where she held the rifle with two hands like a little soldier, a serious look on her face while her father and a teenage boy that must have been her brother carried a buck between them. Lots with a woman that looked a great deal like Morgan, pretty, but sharper around the edges, sporting signature sunglasses and a red-lipped smile in most of her pictures.

"Lena," Nikolai said with a nod toward the slideshow. "Morgan's mother."

She disappeared from any pictures where Morgan was a teen. The brother disappeared as well.

"What happened?"

"Luke was killed in the middle east. He was a soldier, like Michel."

"How come Morgan decided not to serve?" John asked. "Whole military family except her."

Nikolai hummed. "I do not recall her mentioning that her mother was military to you."

Busted. "We met last night by chance. Managed to piss 'er off."

"I wondered why she seemed to hate you."

"She doesn't hate me. She hates that she likes me."

Nik gave him a disbelieving look. "Ah, of course. Good luck with that." He clapped John on the shoulder, still amused. “There is a woman who has been making eyes at me for fifteen minutes. I’m going to say hello. If you talk to Morgan again, watch out for her left hook, yes? She is stronger than she seems.”

John waved him off, laughing. Optimist that he was, he hoped for a better outcome than getting punched. He watched her make the rounds of the room, fascinated by the way she flowed through conversations, body language and expression changing rapidly as she became whoever she needed to be to ease the conversation along. It looked exhausting.

She glanced his way a few times, cheeks turning slighty pink when she found him watching and still watching. His presence flustered her, set her off balance.

When her smile started straining around the edges, he stepped outside for a cigar, leaning against the side of the building, out of the way. Predictably, she stepped outside for some air not long after, not looking for him, but for a moment alone. Still, she walked right up to him when he waved her over, like she just couldn’t help herself. She sighed, leaning into the wall beside him.

“A cigar guy, huh?” she observed.

John hummed, offering it to her.

She shook her head. They stood in silence for a long moment, the high-pitched song of crickets filling the air, a cool breeze breaking the humidity of the day. Morgan tipped her head back to look at the sky, filled with bright stars, more than John could see from home. He remembered the first time he’d really seen the stars, up near the Northern tip of Scotland, on a fishing trip with his dad and granddad. They’d been so bright and close, it was almost as if he could reach up and touch them, catch a star and bring it to earth, to keep in his pocket like some heavenly souvenir.

Morgan looked worn down, like she’d spent everything she had shuffling through the masks that got her through the day. Now she had none left, and he could see her, watching the stars with sad eyes.

“You look tired,” John said at last.

“I am. It’s been a long day.”

“You took a lot on.”

“Yeah. I feel like I haven’t had a real break from anything in years now. I think I’ll sleep for a week after this.” She looked over at him. “Did Nikolai leave?”

“I’m not sure. Last I checked he was introducin’ himself to some woman.” He grinned around his cigar, hooking his thumb through a belt loop. “Have to admit, it wasn’t him I was watchin’.”

“I guess they don’t teach subtlety where you come from.”

“They do. Just don’t always have the time for it. Wanted to make sure you know I’m interested.”

That made her laugh. “Don’t worry, English. You’ve been more than clear. It’s just not going to happen.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have to give you a reason.” She fiddled with her necklace, pulling it out of her collar and holding it tight in her palm.

“You don’t,” John agreed. “Shouldn’t have been so pushy with you last night. I’m not that good at lettin’ things go.”

“It’s alright. I kind of freaked out, especially when you got between me and the door.”

“Hope you tell me the reason for that someday.” He tossed the spent cigar down and ground it under his heel, the movement bringing his knee close enough to brush her skirt. “Can I take you home?”

“Still not going to happen.”

“But you want to.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, English.”

“How about a kiss, then?”

“You don’t like hearing no, do you?”

John laughed softly. "We'd both enjoy a yes. No sense denyin' it."

"Maybe next time." She said it dismissively, like she didn't expect there to be a next time. Worse, she shifted away, almost imperceptibly.

A new tactic was needed. He’d have to put it in her hands."How about I give you my number? We can get to know each other a little better before next time comes around."

"You can give it to me, but I can't promise I'll call you. Got a pen?"

He fished one out if his pocket. She rolled up her sleeve and offered him her forearm. "Could just give me your number," he said, gripping her wrist with his left hand to hold her steady as he carefully printed his initials and the number of the burner phone currently in his pocket. He rather liked the look of his initials inked on her skin.

"If I do that you'll call me tomorrow morning and try to change my mind before you leave."

He had to admit, that did sound like him. "Alright. When can I expect you to call?" He blew on the ink to make sure it was dry. He didn't want it to smudge, but he really didn’t want to let go, and it gave him an excuse to hold on a little longer, feeling the way her pulse leapt against his fingers.

"Between three days and never," she said, tugging her arm out of his grasp, her cheeks turning slightly pink.

"Hope it's not never."

"Me too,” she admitted, surprising him. “But no promises."

Maybe she wasn't going to make any promises, but he was. He would see her again soon whether or not she reached out. If there was one thing John Price was no good at, it was letting things go once they’d caught his attention.

He wasn't about to let her slip away.

#cave writing #Sparrow #John Price x OC #x OC #This story starts a little slow but it'll pick up #I still enjoy all these slower set up bits #John stop being annoying challenge (Impossible)#OC: Morgan Renard

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haxeroo · 1 day ago

Text

Romantic surprise

Summary: Unexpected challenge. Date, with Daryl. What was supposed to be a disaster, turned out to be a great victory.

Warnings: curses (I think that's all?)

Era: Whatever tbh, but the action takes place at Hilltop

Word count: 3.9k

Something from me: Hello again. Thank you very much for the warm reception of my first work, I didn't expect this.. Catch another, totally different idea. Sorry for all the mistakes. I hope you like it! <3

"– Draw."

You looked at Carol in disbelief. She was sitting at the table, arms crossed, looking at you with that unreadable expression on her face. The one that said there was no point in arguing.

You raised an eyebrow, sensing there might be some joke behind this. "Seriously? A date in the middle of the apocalypse?"

"Got something better to do?"

And she had you there. Because no, you didn’t. You sighed quietly, reaching for one of the folded pieces of paper. You slowly unfolded it, as if your life depended on it.

DARYL.

You froze.

Carol snorted with laughter. "Well, good luck."

Oh, shit.

Her tone didn’t sound encouraging – more like a challenge. Because it was no secret that Daryl... well, he wasn’t exactly the easiest person to approach.

You watched Carol walk toward Maggie, and when both of them covered their mouths and glanced your way, it became clear that this whole "drawing" thing was nothing but a clever plan. And soon enough, the whole Hilltop would know about it.

Which meant you had to act fast.

You sighed, glancing at the paper again, almost hoping the name would magically disappear. Unfortunately, it didn’t. So if you were going to do this, it had to be on your terms.

You smiled slightly, took the rubber band off your hair, and ran your fingers through it, letting it fall in a loose mess. The last raspberry from your plate served as a subtle touch to redden your cheeks – a small detail, but the girls at the table immediately gave you thumbs up.

Here we go.

You walked toward the garage.

Daryl, as usual, was tinkering with one of the vehicles. He was lying under the car, completely indifferent to the thick, tar-like liquid dripping down his forearm.

You crouched next to the car and peeked underneath.

"Want some help?" you asked, maybe a bit too innocently.

Daryl froze for a second, then barely lifted his head.

"Nah."

You weren’t discouraged.

"Then maybe you want to help me?" this time, it came out more like you.

You heard the clink of a wrench falling to the asphalt. After a moment, the man slid out from under the vehicle, propping himself up on his forearm. He looked at you with furrowed brows – not a bad look, more like... cautious.

"With what? I ain't got all day, girl."

You hesitated for just a fraction of a second.

"We're going on a date."

Daryl blinked slowly.

"The fuck we are."

You sighed and lifted the piece of paper to eye level.

"Before you start blaming me..." You moved just enough so he could see Carol and Maggie, who were openly watching the whole scene from the other side of the yard. "It was Carol’s idea."

Daryl didn’t need to say anything. A single glance was enough.

"‘M not gonna be a part of this."

"Daryl." You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice as if you were revealing some big secret. "If we don’t do this, she won’t leave us alone for another month."

And that stopped him.

Because Carol could be incredibly stubborn.

Daryl furrowed his brows, chewed on the inside of his cheek, then let out a short, drawn-out:

"Shit."

It wasn’t a "yes."

But it wasn’t a "no" either.

And that was something.

Daryl sighed heavily and waved his hand.

"’Kay, whatever," he muttered, then almost immediately disappeared back under the car.

You glanced at Carol, who raised an eyebrow meaningfully, then back at him.

"So… come on?" you said with amusement, seeing his movements slow for a moment.

"Ain’t got time now. Later." His voice was muffled but firm enough that most people would have given up.

But you weren’t "most people."

"But Carol needs to see that we’re going, y’know." You pressed, barely holding back a wide smile. "So it kinda has to be now."

Something between a grunt and a sigh escaped his lips – heavy, resigned, slightly irritated. Something that, in his language, could mean "damn it" or "why the hell am I doing this."

After a moment, his head slid out from under the vehicle, and he started wiping his hands on a black rag. He did it quickly, almost nervously. But he did it.

So the first step was done.

Once Daryl looked down, you quickly turned back to Carol and Maggie, raising your clenched fist in the air. A sign of triumph. You didn’t wait for their reaction – you knew they were impressed – only looked back at Daryl.

This time, he was wiping his hands on his pants, clearly irritated with the whole situation.

"Where are we going?" you asked with exaggerated sweetness, knowing exactly how it would irritate him.

"Ya tell me," he almost growled, giving you a brief, suspicious glance.

You feigned surprise, but only for a second.

"You know, where I come from, men choose the date spots." You put a hand on your hip, purposefully looking at him, clearly aware of what it was doing to him.

In his piercing eyes – cold blue, seeing right through you.

"‘N back where I’m from, we ain’t dating."

You sighed ostentatiously and rolled your eyes.

Then, you smoothly turned on your heel, not looking back, but gesturing with your finger for him to follow you.

To your surprise, he did.

You felt a shiver run down your spine.

"Well… today you do." You smiled lightly. "So think of something, or I will."

You looked at him again, unable to resist.

"And trust me… you don’t want that."

The man raised an eyebrow in surprise. Something passed over his face – a single emotion you couldn’t read.

You didn’t comment on it.

You slowed down to match his pace and very subtly stared at him. You made it clear that you were waiting.

Daryl got the message. But still, for a long moment, he didn’t say a word.

"So?" you finally asked.

"So wha’?"

"Any ideas? Or maybe you want my help, after all?"

Daryl froze for a second. Was that... hesitation?

No, he looked more lost. And that was new. His blue eyes scanned the area as if looking for a hint, some kind of escape.

Finally, after a long pause, he just shrugged.

"Walkin’ counts."

A smile crept up on your lips.

"Indeed it does," you nodded seriously. "So, a romantic walk. Nice."

"’S just a walk."

"No," you immediately disagreed, too quickly for it to be accidental. "It has to be a romantic walk. It’s a date, remember?"

And again, that strange emotion on his face.

His gaze weighed heavily on your shoulders, and you could feel Daryl was about to say something. He even opened his mouth...

…but then he closed it again.

You weren’t about to press him. But you also weren’t going to let it slide.

"Tell me something romantic, then," you said casually, deliberately looking away.

You knew that if you saw his face, you’d burst out laughing.

"Not happenin’."

"Why is that?" you feigned surprise. Very exaggerated surprise.

You raised an eyebrow in silent shock and added a slightly sad expression. Not even a second passed before Daryl was raising his hand in a defensive gesture.

Wow.

Daryl. On the defensive.

You were getting better at this.

"We just gotta show Carol that we’re talkin’," he corrected immediately, as if he wanted to end the topic. "That’s it."

You hesitated.

It was a good excuse – it fit the narrative of "Carol made me do it, I don’t want this." But the truth was completely different.

You wanted to get to know Dixon better. And everyone saw that.

Everyone, except him.

You’d tried a few times already – pulling him for hunting, scouting, anything. But Daryl always found a way to back out. Maybe he was closed off, maybe just oblivious. Either way, it ended in failure.

But you weren’t going to give up.

"If we do something, let’s do it properly," you said, choosing your words with exaggerated care.

Deliberately.

You knew it was a bit of a stretch, but you didn’t let it show.

"I don’t like doing things half-heartedly."

Daryl didn’t counter, though he probably could’ve. You weren’t about to give him the time to do that.

"We have to do something romantic," you added quickly, before he had a chance to wiggle out of it.

Daryl slumped his shoulders a little. A small change in his posture, but it was enough for you to notice.

Resignation.

Had he given up?

He furrowed his brows and looked at you as if weighing how serious you were.

"'N what do ya call romantic?" he mumbled after a moment.

That was something.

Those words lit a fire in you. Was Daryl finally falling into your carefully laid trap?

You smiled lightly, feeling like you were slowly winning.

"I dunno," you threw back innocently. "Maybe you should figure it out?"

Daryl sighed heavily, then… He turned away and walked toward the gate.

"C'mon, princess." He called over his shoulder, not even checking if you were following.

Your eyes lit up. Something fluttered in your stomach.

Oh. My. God.

One word, one phrase—and you already felt like a teenager. Not a good sign.

It was a tragic sign.

Only now did you realize you were playing with fire. Your victory was temporary, fragile. Daryl could shatter it at any moment, though you weren’t sure if he even realized that.

You followed him without hesitation.

For a moment, he vanished from your sight, turning between the buildings, and when you caught up, you noticed him packing something into his bag.

A second too late.

You didn’t see exactly what he was shoving in there with such passion, but you decided that a little surprise might work in your favor. Only now did you notice the motorcycle.

You froze.

You stood like a pillar, staring at it in utter disbelief. He must’ve noticed.

"Ya goin’?" he called, raising an eyebrow.

You shook yourself out of your daze and nodded.

You stepped closer, feeling a slight hesitation that Daryl didn’t seem to care about. He grabbed the handlebars, leaning slightly forward, then—almost imperceptibly—tilted the bike toward you.

You grabbed his shoulders.

Your eyes scanned the patches on his vest.

The touch—despite three layers of clothing—shocked you like electricity. But you didn’t pull back.

You took your place behind him. There wasn’t any question about whether you were ready. The kickstand lifted with a quiet snap. The roar of the engine hit your ears.

You pressed against his back—definitely a bit too much.

Partly, you just wanted it. Partly out of necessity, because the motorcycle took off faster than you thought it could.

You didn’t even know when you’d left the settlement.

You glanced over your shoulder, sensing someone’s gaze. Carol. She stood in the distance, looking at you with a clearly proud expression. You smiled to yourself, but didn’t wave. You’d have to let go of Daryl to do that.

That wasn’t an option. You closed your eyes.

And then you felt him.

The forest. Steel. Sweat.

A combination of scents that, right now, was dangerously attractive.

You inched a little higher, closer to his neck. It was too comfortable. Too good. So good that you almost… drifted away. It felt like you were dreaming while awake.

But then—suddenly—something yanked you away. A force pulling you away from the man, and you almost sighed in disappointment. Almost.

You quickly opened your eyes, only now realizing he’d braked. And hard. Like he wanted to make a point, but you had no idea how long you’d been riding.

– "Are ya sleepin’ or what?" His voice hit you straight in the consciousness.

You mentally cursed yourself and quickly got off the bike. Literally and figuratively.

When your feet hit the ground, you barely steadied your suddenly weak knees.

Oh no.

That’s all you managed to think before Daryl looked at you, scanning you from head to toe. You weren’t even sure what you were afraid of.

"Ya cold?" he asked, and something soft appeared in his eyes.

Too soft for Daryl Dixon.

Concern. Worry.

If you could, you would’ve screamed. When had this whole situation slipped out of your control?

You shook your head, Daryl didn’t seem convinced. He nodded, though, as if understanding. You had goosebumps—he asked probably because of that—but it definitely wasn’t the temperature.

"Where are we going?" you finally squeezed out, noticing a very subtle quiver in your voice.

The man led the way through the bushes. He didn’t turn to you, only spoke when he cleared an obstacle in your path.

"Surprises are romantic, ain't they?"

If you could, you would’ve just passed out.

You didn’t respond because Dixon didn’t give you a glance, but even if he had, you weren’t sure you could.

You walked for a short while. You left the motorcycle behind, now covered with branches that lay nearby. The rustling leaves and the gentle breeze were the only stimuli you clung to like a drowning person. Thanks to them, you were still keeping your wits about you.

You laughed quietly, a little too loud for the silence around you. You snorted, freezing in place when you realized how irrational it was. You were losing your mind. For sure.

"What's so funny?" Daryl suddenly asked, completely surprising you.

Nothing.

Your mind was a blank slate. You felt cold sweat on your neck as you desperately tried to come up with any response.

"My shoes..." you blurted out without thinking, looking down at your feet.

Even you were surprised by that comment.

"They are very appropriate for our trip, aren't they?"

You mentally slapped yourself. Really? That was the best you had?

Daryl stopped and looked down at your shoes. Black, with a slightly higher wedge than they should’ve had for a forest trip. Half-covered in mud, damp from the earth that hadn’t dried from yesterday’s rain.

"Ya pick them on purpose or ya just stupid?" he raised an eyebrow, but his voice held no malice.

You snorted, pretending to be offended.

"I'd say a little bit of both."

The corner of his mouth twitched, barely noticeable. Maybe it was a shadow of a smile. Maybe you just imagined it.

He moved forward without waiting for your response. You also took a step forward, trying to ignore the dampness soaking into your shoes.

For a moment, you walked in silence until you began to notice something beyond the trees and shrubs.

A clearing.

It wasn’t large, but it seemed almost... untouched. Thick, lush grass, interspersed with purple flowers here and there. In the distance, you could see what looked like a small stream lazily cutting through the land.

Daryl stopped at the edge, as if checking your reaction.

“That romantic enough for ya?” he said, still not looking at you.

You didn’t answer right away. Your mind was too occupied—because here you were, in a place that felt like it had been pulled from another world.

Daryl walked toward the clearing, and though your shoes begged for mercy, you followed him without hesitation.

The sun was breaking through the treetops, casting golden spots on the grass. The light reflected in delicate waves on the surface of the stream, making the water look like liquid glass.

You didn’t know what to say. Maybe that was the point. Maybe this was one of those places that spoke for itself.

Daryl crouched next to his backpack and began pulling things out. You thought for a moment that he might be preparing a meal, but no. Instead, there was a small knife, and... binoculars.

You furrowed your brows.

“Are we spying on someone?”

Daryl snorted, checking the sharpness of the knife as if it was the most normal question in the world.

“Nah.” He shrugged. “Figured ya might wanna see somethin' cool.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he nodded toward the trees. You followed his gaze and then you saw it.

Perched on one of the higher branches was a large, brown bird—an eagle, maybe a hawk, you weren’t sure. It looked regal, its feathers gleaming in the rays of the setting sun.

Daryl handed you the binoculars.

“Take a look.”

You didn’t hesitate. You lifted it to your eyes and froze. You could see every detail—the razor-sharp talons, the watchful eyes, the slight tremor of the feathers in the wind.

“Wow...” you whispered, unable to contain your awe.

Daryl was silent, but you could feel his gaze on you. It seemed like he was more interested in your reaction than the bird itself.

You lowered the binoculars and looked at him.

“How did you find this place?”

He thought for a moment, then shrugged.

“Been 'round. Saw it. Thought ya might like it.”

Something stirred inside you. Maybe it was the wind, or maybe something else entirely.

You didn’t respond, but smiled softly, sitting down on the grass.

Daryl did the same.

And for a moment, in this strange, unreal world, time seemed to stop.

For a moment, everything felt suspended. Only the wind sang through the trees, and the eagle slowly soared toward the sky, as if that moment could last forever.

Daryl kicked a stone with his foot, breaking the silence. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, and his lips curled into a slight, almost imperceptible smile.

“Ya lookin' all peaceful, ain't ya?”

A warmth spread through your chest, but you decided not to react immediately. You simply smiled back, feeling a strange relief, like you had finally found a moment of peace you had long been missing.

You struggled to tear your gaze away from the bird, which had disappeared into the clouds, and looked at him. Daryl was sitting next to you, his hands resting on his knees, but his posture was much more relaxed than usual.

You didn’t have to say anything to feel the subtle shift between you two. This wasn’t a moment full of words, and it didn’t have to be. His presence said more than any questions you could have asked.

And suddenly, after that long silence, Daryl spoke again.

“Ya know, sometimes it's nice just to... stop thinkin'... for a bit.”

His voice sounded different—calmer, like those words were rare for him.

You paused, then opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Daryl changed the subject.

“Don’t get used to it, though. Ain’t like this happens often.”

You chuckled quietly, but inside, you felt a strange sense of relief. Something about this moment was so normal, yet so atypical, that you almost wanted it to last longer.

“I won’t” you replied softly.

He looked at you for a moment, then nodded, as if convinced. Silence fell again, but it was a different kind of silence—one that wasn’t uncomfortable or tense, just... peaceful.

At least, until...

He grabbed your shoulder, and the warmth of his hand shot through you like an electric jolt. The moment his touch became inevitable lasted only a fraction of a second, but it felt like time had stopped for a moment. You forgot everything—about the motorcycle, the forest, the uncertainty you had been trying to hide.

Your heart stopped for a beat, and Daryl’s gaze, as he lifted his head, was so intense that it almost felt like he was peering into your soul. His eyes weren’t as cold as they had been before—now they held something more, as if, for that brief instant, he became... available.

You couldn’t bear it any longer. The torment.

Instinctively, you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him toward you with a strength you didn’t know you had. Your lips almost collided. Your uncertainty vanished into oblivion as Daryl took complete control, stealing any direction from you. His grip on your shoulder tightened, and you couldn’t stop the hum of satisfaction that escaped into his mouth.

You felt everything like it was in a haze. The butterfly touch on your cheek. The warmth building between you. The tickling sensation on your face as Daryl leaned in closer, his hair brushing against your skin.

You didn’t want to break it, even though you felt a burning emptiness in your lungs.

But you didn’t have to, because Daryl pulled away from you. Too suddenly, by your standards.

You opened your eyes, seeing his pupils dilated to their limits as they fixed on something behind you. A sharp whoosh of something slicing through the air, a gust of wind centimeters from your face, and the soft thud of a body falling.

You turned around, your mouth slightly ajar in shock. A rotten body lay just a meter away from you. The small knife that Daryl had pulled out earlier was embedded perfectly in the center of the zombie’s forehead, and it now lay lifeless.

“I told ya, don’t get used to it.”

You exhaled the breath you had been holding with a soft hiss. You didn’t even have the presence of mind to think about your momentary lapse. Your whole mind was focused on him. On his perfect accuracy, the vigilance that clearly never left him, the almost nonchalant way he carried himself, which somehow bought you in completely.

You turned back to him, feeling your heart race again, but this time, it wasn’t fear. It was something else—something that pulled you toward him with every passing moment spent together. Daryl was like a mystery you wanted to uncover, but at the same time, you feared what lay behind that gaze.

You looked at him, and he still stared ahead, but you could feel how close his presence was. His arm brushed lightly against yours, as though he hadn’t noticed the proximity. But you knew he did.

He felt it. He knew it.

Suddenly, without warning, Daryl looked at you. His eyes held uncertainty, maybe even anger, but also something you couldn’t name. He looked at you for a moment, like he didn’t know what to say.

Then, for a moment, he blinked, as if trying to control something that had suddenly risen in his chest. He moved a little closer, and you felt the warmth of his body. There was an unspoken thing hanging in the air, something neither of you could quite understand yet.

“You're gettin' under my skin...” he said, with a soft sigh, as though trying to explain what he felt but couldn’t find the words—“Teasin' me all day...”

You smiled faintly, not sure if it was a challenge. Seeing that moment of hesitation in his eyes, you felt something shift. Like all those moments of silence now held something more than just quiet.

“Maybe that’s the point,” you replied softly.

His gaze grew more intense, almost piercing. You didn’t know if it was desire or something else—but there was something in it. You could feel it, even though he said nothing.

“I don't know what you're doin' to me,” he said with frustration, but his tone was strangely soft, as if he couldn’t hide what he was really feeling anymore.

That feeling that connected you both was hard to grasp, but you couldn’t ignore it.

You didn’t respond, only moved closer until you felt your breaths start to mingle. For a moment, you didn’t speak, just stayed there, in that space that was becoming more and more intimate.

And then Daryl surprised you again, pulling you toward him unexpectedly. His strong, sure hands landed on your hips, and his warm breath wrapped around you like a cloak. Before you could pull away, you felt his lips on yours—first gently, as if testing what would happen, and then with an intensity you hadn’t expected.

It was like an explosion you had feared, but at the same time, you didn’t want it to end. You felt the world vanish, and the only thing that mattered was that moment. You felt his hands on your back, pulling you closer, as if he didn’t want to let go, as if he wanted to keep you there forever.

When he finally pulled away, you couldn’t catch your breath. He had always been so closed off, with that mysterious posture, but now... now he was like a book, the pages finally ready to be discovered.

He looked at you with expectation, uncertainty, but also with something special.

“Don’t run away from me,” he whispered, and those words carried more emotion than the rest of the conversation put together.

They were intertwined with a delicate tease, laughter. They sounded so light, yet so certain.

“You’ll never get rid of me" you whispered back.

And somehow, neither of you were ready to say goodbye yet.

#daryl fanfiction #daryl #twd fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl fic #daryl x reader #twd daryl #soft/fluff sth like that

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