#it would be set before the linking of the flame | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dev1lm4n · 1 year

Text

moth to flame

ko-fi | series masterlist

pairing: porn star!joel miller x f!reader

summary: you're pining over wicked fantasies or who you recently discovered to be mr. miller, even when it's indubitably wrong.

word count: 3.9k

warnings: explicit (18+), pre-apocalypse, accidental voyeurism, masturbation, age gap (joel's in his mid 30's and reader is in her early 20's), reader is an exchange student but nationality is not mentioned

notes: set in 2013. do reblog or comment if u enjoyed it!

Turbulent wind pushed on the pickup truck to no avail. That, paired with the soothing rhythmic grunt of the ignition created a perfect moody atmosphere. It was the peak of summer; yet somehow, for whatever reason, Austin was looking awfully somber. Gray and bland like the taste of soaked cereals. Sarah was bound to return to school despite the hefty weekends she’s spent with the newest addition to the Millers, and she didn’t like it at all. She’s making it real obvious too for everyone. Cheeks puffed up like she is five and always a loud thump following her every move.

She landed her dad’s coffee on the table with a loud thump. She stormed back into her room with a louder thump. She swung the pickup truck’s door with the loudest thump you’ve ever heard, before making her way over to the school’s gate. Her small pout remained on her face despite your cheerful wave and words of encouragement from behind the rolled window.

She’s a cute kid, you decided.

You’re sure things would link perfectly between you and your host family if it weren’t for the fact that you practically avoided Mr. Miller like he’s the goddamn plague. Everytime you slipped out of your room, you had to make sure he wasn’t in a five meter proximity. You’d rather be dehydrated and starved than to meet him after his day-time job (which you’ve recently learned was a contracting gig), lingering around the kitchen with a stale sandwich up his mouth. Similarly, you treated Sarah as a trusty messenger for every message you had for her dad. Whether it’s a leaky sink or a hefty request to drop you off at your college.

It’s a genuine miracle Sarah never questioned you on your abnormal behavior, nor did Mr. Miller. Was this your streak of luck?

You tucked your phone back in your pocket after a quick run through your texts, eyes focused back towards what laid ahead of you. Mr. Miller’s broad shoulders stretched across the length of the car’s cushioned seat, moving with a steady pulse at every breath of air he claimed. Your careful eyes watched over the seams of his shirt; the correct side up after Sarah’s clever remark earlier that morning. Slowly, you traced along the nape of his neck with your bare eyes. Further and further, right until you could finally spot the dark brown strands tangled in with hints of gray. It looked soft.. much like how it appeared to be on his videos. You wondered how it’d feel like to run your hands over it, feel it through the ridges of your knuckles, and pull on‒

“Hey, you listenin’ to me?”

The man’s baritone voice penetrated the thick silence and you were left aghast. Soul sucked out of your body as your eyes flickered towards the rearview mirror, eventually catching the small smile playing on his dangerously charming face. He’d be the end of you that’s for sure. This was a bad idea, asking him to drive you to college just because taxi rates are crazy high this time of the year, leaving the two of you alone. Alone and hidden under the privacy of his truck, you were fucked through and through. You just hoped he wasn’t clever enough to somehow figure out your utterly shameful thoughts.

“Sorry.. um.. I was thinking of something. What were you saying, Mr. Miller?”

Yeah, that’s right. You were thinking of how nice his hair would feel when you’re gripping on it for dear life, but he didn’t have to know that.

“No worries, kiddo. Just.. I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?”

At the last syllable he uttered, you were already rigid. Parched, feeling like your tongue magically turned into sandpaper; you’d always consider yourself to be an excellent debater at all parts of life, but his lone question left you high and dry. Your eyes darted back onto the rearview mirror and instead of his candid expression, you were met with his scintillating gaze. Curious and prodding into the deepest part of your head. It enthralled you, encouraged you to say the truth.

“You’re always scurrying off when I’m around,” he gave a thought to what he’s about to say. “I get that Sarah is friendlier and a lot more relatable to talk to. Talkin’ to an old man isn’t exactly preferable, is it?”

He let out a polite set of laughter, which was met by a deafening silence. You crumpled under the tension. Awkward and wanting nothing more than to escape the car like some fugitive in handcuffs. Killing Me Softly With His Song by Fugees continued to play faintly in the background, once again becoming a fitting ringtone for your impending response.

“No,” you denied slowly. Effectively lying, but it was as obvious as a kid trying to pocket candies from the cash register. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

His expression eventually twisted into one of mirth; brows quirked with interest, a tight smile edged to unfold. He’s probably finding the telenovela-inspired reply hilarious, but the man’s polite enough to store all his witty comments in the back of his head.

“What I mean is,” you paused to inhale deeply. What were you even supposed to say? You used to watch all his explicit videos and therefore you couldn't look him in the eye without getting reminded of every single scene? Lying has never been your forte, but the other option was far too humiliating. Even for you. “I’m naturally awkward, Mr. Miller. I.. I feel embarrassed when approaching you. Feels like I’m bothering you or something.”

That was half a lie. A white lie, you’d conclude.

“Oh sweetheart, you never bother me.”

The way he said that nickname had you sweating buckets. Seconds away from throwing up your entire breakfast menu out of sheer nervousness. You knew he meant it in a platonic familial-bond type of way, but God did it remind you of what he calls all his pretty co-stars.

“You and Sarah are my number one priority now. You know that, right?”

“Right. Thanks, Mr. Miller.”

“I’m home.”

Exhaustion trailed after your every step as you made your way through the empty hallway. A result of caffeine-induced studying paired with the buzzing busyness of commuting in peak-hour. This was all easily avoidable. You should’ve accepted Mr. Miller’s offer in picking you up after his gig up West, but the fear of making a slip up is overriding your desire for convenience. You wouldn't want to make things even more weird than it already is. Your most prized possession, the laptop you’ve owned since the beginning of time, weighed your shoulder down exceptionally as you trudged through. A loud grunt passed your lips as you stumbled across; appearing exactly like the hunchback of Notre Dame.

“Oh! You’re here!”

You took a step back to meet the feminine voice, bubbly and hearty from the girl sitting in a criss-cross manner in front of the TV. Sarah was smiling. A big toothy smile that was too hard to resist, despite the fatigue weighing your shoulders down. You’re just soft when it comes to the little girl.

“Dad’s giving me a massage. Do you want one too?”

You must’ve been dog-tired, because you foolishly didn’t notice the large figure looming over her from the sunken couch. It was admittedly dim in the living room, but he was as obvious as an elephant, big and rigged with muscles out of a need for his profession. Both his contracting gig and his other.. scandalous endeavors. Breathing was all that you needed to focus on for now, and perhaps schooling your expression. You’re almost entirely sure you wouldn’t be able to speak no matter how hard you try.

A small unsure quirk of your head was what you settled with and Sarah, being the nicest girl you’ve ever known, quickly ushered you to sit by her side. On the wooden floor. For a damned massage from Mr. Miller.

You complied, of course. Even when you look mildly petrified by the idea.

“What’re you up to all evening?”

His voice grazed your eardrums, alike to a powerful gust of wind, as you seated yourself on the foot of the couch. Sarah by your side, looking fondly in your direction, giving you all the more pressure to appear put together when you could simply falter at the bare sound of his voice. You needed to get your shit together. Mr. Miller’s an actual man, for fucks sake, it’s horribly immoral to think of him as the Wicked Fantasies in these kinds of setting.

“Studying.”

“Is that why you’re so pent-up?”

No. You’re pent-up because you’ve spent the entire week trying to be on your best behavior, trying to act like you’re not openly thirsting over this sweet girl’s father, trying to act like you’re not tipping into insanity from merely being placed in the same room as he is, but he didn’t have to know that.

“Think so,” you hummed softly.

“Poor thing.”

Anticipation almost killed you right there and then. You knew he was going to place his calloused fingers over your shoulders, knew that it was the basic requirement to give someone a shoulder massage, but you couldn’t help but develop butterflies in your belly at the thought. It wasn’t beautiful nor poetic, instead, it was an absolute nuisance to conceal your thoughts. When he began to place his hands on your upper back, you flinched.

A hitch in your breathing, then a throaty groan.

You were sensitive, touch-starved, and his touch practically confirmed that.

Mr. Miller’s touch was expertly firm yet gentle, the way you imagined it for a long time. His calloused fingers glided along your trapeze muscles with finesse. Fluid and seamless, as if he’s a master to the human body. Your eyes fluttered shut as he focused on the tension points. The nook between your bones which was constantly weighed down by your bag didn’t go unnoticed. His skilled fingers kneaded away every knot and tightness, making you surrender to his ministrations.

You didn’t want him to stop.

You wanted him to touch you more.

To have each one of his rough fingers stroke every soft bend of your body, like how he treated May and Sadie as if they were his own personal ragdoll.

To feel him under the constraints of your thin t-shirt, without a veil separating the two of you.

You craved him so bad, even when it’s wrong.

“You feel better?”

When he spoke, his raspy voice was magnetic to the core of who you were, as if he's able to resonate with all of you when others can barely achieve a fraction of it. It sounded sincere, like he truly cared about your well-being and not to simply feed into your secret desires. He meant well and you’re here acting like a starved pervert. The thought made you cringe ever so slightly.

“Yeah. Much better.”

“Good then, kiddo.”

The nickname turned you sour. You're more than willing to debate him on it, unlike last time.

“I’m not a kid.”

“No?”

He was so smug about it too. Even when you're looking all pissy.

“No. I’m a fully grown adult, Mr. Miller. Do note that I’m in my twenties,” you schooled him persistently.

“Twenties? Wow, you’re truly ancient.”

“Yeah and you’re a dinosaur, Mr. Miller.”

The silly quarrel you’ve gotten into with the older man made Sarah burst into laughter, breaking your tenacity and effectively making you laugh along with her.

It was the first time in forever that the Millers laughed that hard together.

As the evening sun painted the kitchen in sepia hues, you stood before the cutting board; a bunch of onions staring right back at you, waiting to be transformed. You have always been passionate about cooking as you viewed it a stress-relieving activity, similar to those medley of coloring books marketed for adults. With a polished kitchen knife in hand and earphones stuffed in, you began your culinary adventure. Your hands moved swiftly, guided by blind confidence. The rhythmic sound of knife to wood began to echo all around the room.

“What are you cookin’ up?”

You could hear him as clear as day, timbre vibrating through your ear canals. Only then did you notice that he had indeed pulled one of your neatly stuffed earphones away, leaving you exposed to the world. To him who you’ve been avoiding despite your little chat in the truck. You looked dumbstruck. Lost in your own thoughts, your eyes wandered up the pools of honey in his eyes. The subtle movements, his thoughtful expression, all seemed to weave a tapestry of intrigue in your mind.

“I’m just chopping up onions here. Nothing exciting, really.”

It took all of you to tear yourself away from his gaze. Even so, the sensation lasted, leaving an anchor of trepidation in your chest.

“You’re back early,” you remarked matter-of-factly.

“Construction guys finished cementing early. Why? You miss me?”

You chuckled fondly. Only to shake your head as you mouthed a brief ‘no’. It’s hard not to entertain the cheeky older man despite your best effort. He was better than you could ever imagine from the confines of your laptop. He had a personality, one that easily made anyone hooked, and a kind heart, therefore it’s terribly hard to keep your burning feelings at bay. It’s wrong. Terribly wrong to view him as such when you’re almost entirely sure he viewed you as his kin, as someone to protect and show guidance to. You were drawn to him like a moth to flame, but he didn’t need to know that.

A sudden lapse in concentration caused your knife to slip, nicking your finger in the process.

A sharp sting shot through your hand.

Then a bead of crimson appeared, mingled with the pungent scent of onions.

“Shit..”

Momentarily stunned, you sucked in a sharp breath, your eyes widened with surprise. It didn’t hurt that bad yet, but it’s still a sight that made you frantic and out of your element. You instinctively brought your injured finger close to your tightly pressed lips, intending to investigate the severity of the wound. Droplets of blood seeped its way through the slim cut as you pressed on the soft pads of your pointer finger. You need to get the wound clean and so tap water was your first option.

However, fate had other plans in store.

“Oh no.. does it hurt, sweetheart?”

You grimaced at the nickname. This wasn’t a good time to get all desperate, but his voice did nothing but burn you with need. Without hesitation, Mr. Miller took hold of your nicked finger, his touch tender and reassuring. He guided your finger closer to his lips and in the many years you've lived, this was the most sensual scene you’ve ever witnessed. Your eyebrows quivered, a mixture of confusion and anticipation swirled within you.

He was your drug.

One touch and the intoxication was fatal. Whatever he wants to do is what you’ll do and there isn't a thing you can do to stop him - not that you’d want to.

With gentle care, he leaned in. He had to crouch ever so slightly to get to your level and never once did his velvety brown eyes leave yours. You’re starting to think that he was doing it on purpose. That this entire scene you’re trying to make sense of was just a part of his orchestrated show, that he indeed felt the same way you do and was just as afraid of confronting it. Though you’re never really sure; the sheer attention he gave you made your brain turn into mush.

His warm breath ghosted over the wound, and before you knew it, he pressed a soft, delicate kiss on where crimson was pooling. Your breath caught in your throat. You wanted to choke. The sting that had plagued you a moment ago now seemed to dissipate into thin air, replaced by a warmth that spread from your hand to every inch of your aching body. His mouth was a furnace. Plush at all sides as his slick tongue stuck flat against the nick.

The concentration in his face, the emphasized crows feet, the stray strands of brown dappled on his sweaty forehead.

“It’s a little old-fashioned, I know,” he whispered, his eyes locked with yours, “but sometimes a little love can make the pain go away.”

“Love?” you mumbled foolishly, still in a trance.

“You’re a part of the Millers, remember?”

What he said stung you more than the nick. It pushed you off the ledge of delusions. Your gaze slowly grew somber despite your best efforts to stay nonchalant.

“Of course, Mr. Miller.”

The steady patter of rain upon his window stirred Joel awake, droplets yet to scatter the nascent rays of the settling moon. A strange occurrence for late summer. Though, the gentle sound brought a certain calmness to his mind; a soothing melody, one that stripped him of fear and incompetence. He looked around, blurry vision still intact while he scrambled to find the time. His alarm clock flashed back the time in big bold numbers. Barely past midnight, he noted internally. Joel wasn’t so sure on why his throat felt incredibly parched, dry to the bone, in need of refreshment even when it’s only been a few hours since he tucked himself in. Was it the one beer he had at dinner?

With an irritated sigh, he groggily stumbled out of bed. His knees creaked at its rusty hinge everytime he took a step down the dimly lit staircase of his home. He felt like a nutcracker. An old worn-out one at that. He wondered if he’s gotten too old for this, too old for construction and his side job - has he developed arthritis? His worries came to a halt when a soft glow caught his attention, emanating from a partially open door.

If he remembered correctly, it was the small room by the garage he’s gifted to you.

Curiosity piqued, he hesitated for a moment.

Would he be an absolute prick if he took a short peak? Probably. But you interest him. You’ve always been interesting to him, in ways that confuses him more often than he’d like.

He neared the door. One step at a time, praying to whatever God up there that’d be kind enough not to let the wooden boards ahead of him creak at his heavy steps. In that solitary moment, he felt a mixture of emotions welling up within him. It was as if he knew that he was about to stumble upon a secret, a private moment that’d be permanently embedded in his mind. He contemplated once again when he’s just a step away from getting a clear view. Respect for you tugged at his conscience, yet an overwhelming ugly curiosity pushed him to stay, to try to understand the significance of your nocturnal act.

His brown eyes peered through the small gap left.

He could see you now, but you couldn’t see him.

In the dappled moonlight, he carefully mapped out each and every one of your soft curves. How you were bathed in gentle light, sat comfortably on top of your stacked comforter as you typed away at your laptop with lightning-like speed. How you slowly leaned forward to get a closer look at the blaring screen, hair left relaxed and rear-end clearly emphasized by your inept sleeping shorts. How you eagerly repositioned yourself, straddling two rolled pillows as if you were to ride a horse. Joel didn’t mean to look. He didn’t mean to stare in such a perverted, disgusting manner. You were just too captivating and he was one weak-willed man.

With bated breath, he continued to observe.

Joel found himself captivated, his thirst momentarily forgotten, as he marveled at the scene unfolding in front of him.

This was wrong, he reminded himself. This was you he was looking at, not anyone else. You who he always viewed as a wide-eyed young girl still trying her best to navigate around her life. You who’s naive enough to believe his lies that the pink condom packets in his pick-up truck were single-packet wet tissues. You who’s sweet enough to cook his entire family a good dinner for once; turkey, mash, and green beans. He shouldn’t be looking at you like this. He shouldn’t crave you, because you’re you and he’s him.

His dilemma fell short when you clumsily tugged both your thin shorts and cotton panties off your legs, shin planted deeply into the pristine comforter. Your cunt gleamed under the thick moonlight, arousal formed in globs of clear stickiness right around where your tiny hole appeared. The visage caused him to stiffen in his sweatpants, twitching uncontrollably as he watched you rub yourself along the soft material.

Joel had a first-class view on how you cautiously ground down against it and he was.. shamefully thrilled. A moan bubbled up, before you did it again, and again, and again, each time the pillow appeared more and more damp.

“Fuck,” you hissed to yourself and it drove Joel insane. He pushed his pants down embarrassingly as if he’s some teenage boy catching a coincidental sight of a strip tease, before he cupped himself through his briefs. You’re putting on such a good show, even when it’s not for him, or for anyone on that matter. He watched with anticipation as you leaned back on both hands, edging yourself, before you rutted against it desperately.

Your hole throbbed, contracting and loosening everytime the soft material made contact with your sensitive nub. It’s all that you focus on now. Which was working wonders, considering your quiet gasps and labored breaths were starting to turn into much vulgar noises. Loud moans and whimpers that made Joel’s cock grew with interest, dribbling with pre-cum and desire.

“Please, please, please,” you begged breathlessly.

Both of your hands disappeared for a split second. He wondered silently where it went, but the honest shadows on your wall told him more to the story. You were cupping both your breasts, massaging it kindly before going over to pinch and roll your nipples to harden. You seemed to be sensitive there. Would you enjoy his thick fingers around them?

“More.. oh please,” you begged helplessly.

He wished to come and help you, to stick a finger into that tight hole of yours, to circle your clit with his thumb, flicking indulgently until you gave up. But it’s all a part of his far-fetched fantasy. Watching is more than enough for now. Joel couldn’t even see your face, but this entire thing got him off better than all the pornos he’s personally made.

“I’m gonna- oh, oh, God.”

Your cries echoed around the room, He could see how you quivered, thighs clamping shut around the drenched pillow as you reached your final ecstasy. Everytime you rolled back, he salivated over the sight of your sopping cunt. Untouched and sensitive even from just humping. Your thrusts never falter, not even when you’re making a mess on top of the once pristine, white pillow. What a dirty girl.

Joel watched you until the very end. Right until you collapsed forward, flat on your stomach after exerting such work on your body.

Cock sore and in need of relieving.

Though, something else caught his interest. A revelation that he found to be more important to comprehend than the state of his throbbing cock.

The video you're watching to get yourself off.

They were his.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #tlou #joel miller #joel miller tlou #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us imagine #joel miller imagine

3K notes · View notes

niteshade925 · 1 month

Text

April 13, Xi'an, China, Shaanxi Archaeology Museum/陕西考古博物馆 (Part 2 - Shang and Zhou dynasty):

A 1:1 replica of a Warring States period (476 - 221 BC) horse chariot that was unearthed in an ancient tomb in Gansu province. The original artifact was made of lacquered wood, decorated with gold, silver, bronze, turquoise, and other semi-precious stones; it's basically the "Lamborghini" of its time. This replica was just sitting in the hallway in between exhibition halls, and it's very big:

Another one of my favorites, which is also one of the stars of the museum. These are called xizun/牺尊, which are animal-shaped bronze wine vessels (notice the lid on its back). This particular pair is "deer-shaped", but also has patterns on the sides that look like bird wings and paws that look like those of predators. Ugh they are so cute...🥺

A Western Zhou dynasty (1046 - 771 BC) "lunch box" made of bronze, called a luxu/录盨. It was found inside of a Western Han dynasty (202 BC - 8 AD) tomb, indicating that even Chinese people from 2000 years ago had an interest in collecting artifacts from earlier times

More bronze food/wine vessels from Shang dynasty (1600 - 1046 BC) and Zhou dynasty (1046 - 256 BC). Top one is called a gui/簋, bottom left is a gu/觚, and bottom right is a jue/爵. The tall-footed wine vessels can be used to warm up wine before drinking, by heating it with a small flame placed between the feet.

This is what a complete set of bronze vessels from Shang/Zhou dynasties looks like. This particular set, called "fanjin and thirteen vessels"/柉禁十三器 (translated as "Altar Set") is currently at the Met. This diagram below gives the name of each vessel:

Bronze chariot decorations with turquoise inlays. The bronze would have looked golden back then

A little bronze dragon. Cute.

Late Western Zhou dynasty pendant made of jade and agate beads called a yupei/玉佩, and from what I can gather, this one should be part of a necklace, which would be one heavy necklace indeed. I feel like a lighter modern replica might go well with sweaters though:

Left: necklaces, bracelets, and armlets from Spring and Autumn period (770 - 476 BC). Right: another jade and agate yupei from Spring and Autumn period, but this one was probably supposed to be hung from the waist.

This one is known as the Rui Gong ding/芮公鼎 or "Cauldron of Duke Rui", which is a bronze tripod ritual vessel (known as ding/鼎). It is inscribed with the text "内(芮)公乍(作)铸口宫宝鼎，万年子孙永宝用", which roughly translates as "Duke Rui cast this treasured ding, may his descendants use it for ten thousand years to come".

More bronze vessels. The top two are ding/鼎 vessels. Sidenote: notice the right one......does it look familiar? I'm pretty sure the rectangular ding is one of the inspirations for the design of TotK's temple of time. Also note the design patterns...I'm fairly certain these are the inspiration for TotK's aesthetics. TotK's Zonai script is also clearly inspired by Seal script/篆书 (I do want to make a post on this but my hands are pretty full atm)

Gold decorations on accessories:

An (incomplete?) bianzhong/编钟 (bronze bell set) and bianqing/编磬 set. The pentagonal stone chimes on the bottom are part of the bianqing.

A paper that studied the oldest face cream found in China (link to the article on Nature for those who have access).

Wadang/瓦当 (decorative roof edges) from Warring States period featuring various animals and mythical creatures, and their moulds:

#2024 china #xi'an #china #shaanxi archaeology museum #chinese history #chinese culture #ancient history #shang dynasty #zhou dynasty #spring and autumn #warring states period #bronze age #archaeology #history #culture

335 notes · View notes

drenched-in-sunlight · 4 days

Text

i checked the JP description of Malenia set & in the “[Miquella] possesses the wisdom, the allure, of a God” line, the word they use for “allure” is 「誘惑」

It can also be translated as “seduction”.

It’s the same word used in the DLC trailer for “seduction and betrayal” part.

Tbh, I have no crazy revelation on this. I were just thinking “why Malenia did not factor in “kindness” as a quality for a God to have when she described Miquella— oh shit which word did they use for “allure”.”

Somehow I knew it’d be the same word before I even looked up the rest

For me at least, “seduction and betrayal” has always been a general theme of what Godhood will entail.

The Fingers promised Marika power to avenge her kins & betrayed her by locking her into a cage of divinity (that brought her and her future family nothing but misery in the end), Marika accepted to be a vessel but at the same time tasked Hewg to make a weapon to slay a God (so she was always going to rebel against them), Radagon charmed Rennala then left her a husk of her former self, Miquella was seduced by the naive belief that Godhood would be the answer to all the problems but got betrayed by that ideal as it made him lose himself, Miquella charmed others and some of them felt betrayed when the charm was broken.

It’s a theme.

So this is not exactly news to me, but I think it’d be interesting to point that out.

(Like, if I’m to list out more: Ranni linked up with the Black Knives but later imprisoned Alecto when the deed is done, if you attack Fia before getting the mending rune, Godwyn’s body would attack you to protect her, but once the rune is finished (aka Godwyn achieved second life as Lord of Death), she could be murdered by D’s brother… & Fia was obviously infatuated with Godwyn.

If you write “seduction & betrayal” and draw a bunch of arrows from it… it’s pretty much in every demigod subplots. It depends on how one interpret certain events, yeah, but still.

Also: Rennala bewitching the Academy making them believe the Moon was equal to the Stars, the Fell God letting the Fire Giants borrow their power but curse them to tend to the flame for eternity, Bayle vs Placidussax, like… those whole other cans of lore worm?? Need I say more??)

#er brainrot #damn if I think too much about it everyone in ER is kinda a backstabber. even us. it’s funny alright 💀🗿#the irony of Miquella framing Marika’s ascension that way only for his own twin to use that exact same word about him. it’s poetry to me

216 notes · View notes

hollyhomburg · 6 months

Text

Before I Leave You (pt.68)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Your time is running out. minute by minute, breath by breath, kiss by kiss.

Tags: Angst, Hurt (no comfort yet), illusions to past mental health issues and past domestic abuse, mentions of low-self-esteem, internalized shame and self-shaming behaviors, themes of abandonment, speeding, guns, violence,

W/c: 13.4k

A/N: ahhhhh so here we are! i've been dreaming of this chapter since the very beginning of the series! this is like...the ultimate chapter...thank you for giving me a little bit of extra time to sit with it! we've still got a bit to go! there is a little section near the end where the chapter will prompt you to click on a link to play kate bush 😂 if you feel like you'll be distracted by music in the background you don't need to push it- thats just the song that i always heard playing in my head whenever i heard that part playing.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Hobi is sitting on the edge of the nest sipping at his ice water when you come back into the nest room. Someone has drawn all of the heavy curtains over the windows and they pool on the floor at the rim of the room. The plastic pulled up too. The evidence folded and put away for later burning. Like a bad memory or a piece of clothing that doesn't fit right. Shoved in the back of the closet.

The rage and fear and panic are harder to put away. The conviction is not so easy to hide. You can’t put it down the same way that people file their taxes or their children's old scribbles.

You- like a child, have not been able to color between the lines. You- like a child, are messy.

You can’t stop yourself from walking over to him. Drawn to him where he sits nursing his injuries like a moth to a flame. You feel every heartbeat spent in his presence; every breath shared sticky like smoke in your lungs. Every second is savored and every second burns.

You want to ask him if he’s alright, but questions like that seem very pointless now.

Hobi’s not alright- but he will be. He will be okay forever if you do what you have to do. Now that you’ve decided it’s all you can think about. You rarely ever get to know that your last day with someone will be your last day, and now because you know- you look at him a little harder. A little longer.

You wonder what he’ll look like in 10 years and in 20. If he’ll get crow’s feet from smiling so much. If the salt water he loves so much will eventually grow into his features and make him look like something ancient.

You wonder if one day he'll get so many freckles that the tops of his shoulders will be permanently a shade deeper than the rest of his skin- Or if Seokjin’s sunscreen will spare him from the simple pleasure of looking like your favorite thing. Hoseok has always been one part sunshine one part everything else.

He looks pale right now. It hasn't been summer in months and you won't get to see him get all freckly and sun-kissed again.

Growing old is a privilege (you don’t want to grow old) and you’re reminded of that every time you look at his throat and see the bruises there (you wish you and Hobi could stay as you are- like this, in this house- both alive and healing- forever) but you can’t.

You can’t.

You touch his shoulder softly and his head jerks up, body going tense and then slack when he sees it's just you.

It’s quiet up here. The others are just downstairs and they’re making a lot of noise. Hoseok turns, setting his glass of water down on the floor, leaning into your hand in the same movement. It would be cute if he didn’t have black bruises crisscrossing his throat and blood in the whites of his eyes. In truth, every blink only convinces you that this is what you have to do. This is what you need to do.

You know that at any moment the pack is going to come looking for you. That they’ll all come and fill the room with their soothing noises and sweet concern. You're not too worried about finding the right time to slip away. Moonbyul’s given you 24 hours after all.

We didn’t get enough time, did we? I’d have liked more.

Hobi tries to speak and you shush him, he makes a frustrated hum of a noise. You sit down next to him when he tugs you, hand vicelike on your wrist. Your heart is beating really fast. You wonder if he can hear it or at least smell your distress. The whole house is a tangle of distressed scents; your rain, Yoongi’s ocean, Hoseok’s burnt caramel. burning burning burning. It disguises your scent. Hoseok can’t smell how you’re panicking.

You smile at him, and Hobi tries to speak again. unsuccessfully.

“Here your phone-” but Hoseok doesn’t reach for it, he doesn’t reach for anything but you. Pulling you closer to him. His thumb pressed to the pulse point of your wrist, where your skin becomes thin and sensitive. Pulling you until your thigh lines up against his.

The nest up here is the only place in the house that smells somewhat normal, still soaked with your sleepy muted scents from a few days ago (How long will it be until your scent fades from the house?) You take a deep shaky breath, trying to savor it. Hoseok bites his lower lip.

Hoseok starts on your thigh. His hand squeezes it once and then he starts to write. It’s slow going. He can only write one letter at a time but-

“D-O-N-T”

His eyes are positively boring into yours as your breath hitches and you start. “Hobi I-” he repeats it again, writing it out faster. You grab his hand squeezing it. But he pulls it out of your grasp.

“N-O”

You huff, frustrated and close to tears but stealing yourself not to show him your true feelings. How hard this is. You duck in low, kissing over one of the bruises on his neck. He jerks back, furrowing his eyebrows at you. And part of you is just begging him to let it go. You’re half sitting in his lap now all so that he can write out his distress on both your thighs.

“Alright- just stop.” You can hear the rest of the pack on the stairs. It’s getting late, they’ve done all of the cleaning they can manage for today. You can hear Yoongi on the stairway talking to Jin:

“Maybe we should just burn the railing, there’s definitely a bullet or two in it still.”

Jin’s reply is near hissed, utterly scandalized in the way that only Jin can sound. “It is mahogany Yoongi.”

Hobi writes on your thigh, a single tear trailing down his nose. He’s usually a little bit better at keeping himself together but the stress of the day wore him through. Polished all of his usually stubborn edges like the ocean polishes sea glass. He’s too tired to properly argue. Letter by letter as he goes.

“P-R-O-M-I-S-E M-E,” he writes across your thigh.

You have maybe a second before they’re upon you. You have to be convincing. Have to, or else Hobi might tell. You don’t think he’ll get in your way. You don’t want to think about what you’ll have to do if he does.

You dart forward, pressing your lips to his in a way that you don’t really feel, in a way that has him pushing you a little off of him. Trying to reassure him in the only way you know how.

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from crying and he tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear. His fingertips skimming soft across your jaw and your lips. Pressing at the corner of your sad smile like he can peel the fake expression away from your face and have you tell the truth for once.

“I promise, okay? I promise.”

Hoseok is not convinced. He doesn’t believe you all the way. But the pack is up here before he has a chance to write out anything more. Yoongi appears in the doorway, smelling of soap and bleach, a bit of it turning the corner of his shirt yellow where it should be black. His eyes cautious but so loving it takes your breath away a little. He treads softly over to the two of you; like he's worried about spooking you.

The moment between you and Hobi passes when Yoongi's hand curls over the back of your neck and you tilt your face up at him. And he interprets the glassiness there as something else. something more sensitive and more like omegaspace than what it is. you falling through space and time, you dying and drowning infront of him.

He probably thinks Hoseok was just comforting you.

Yoongi’s hand settles softly on the ball of Hoseok’s shoulder too. an equally as tender touch. Long fingers splaying against his collar bones, cradling a bruise there forming. Asking softly, eyes all dark with the anguish and apology of it-

“Do you think either of you can stomach dinner?”

As always, you say you can hot because you want to, but because you know it will make him happy to see you eat. You might not get many more opportunities to make Yoongi happy- you should take this one and savor it.

Yoongi loses that vaguely wounded look in his eyes with every bite you lift to your mouth. His scent sublimating into something sweeter as the night darkens and quiets.

You can tell Hoseok is not convinced of your promises when he stays glued to your side through the whole of dinner. Almost stubborn with how he resists Yoongi’s prodding and Namjoon's. Changing out the cool dressings on his throat and shaking his head at Namjoon’s suggestion that he sleep propped up against the back wall of the nest, where it’s safest. Eyes tracking your movements as you get up and brush your teeth.

His focus remains solely on you, even when Jungkook carries Tae out of the bathroom and places her among the softest things in the nest. When Noodle squirms his way out from under the bed and tries to worm himself in between his legs. Nudging under his elbow with his pink nose.

He wraps himself around you as you get ready for bed. An arm slung protectively around your waist to pull you flush against his front where you couldn’t squirm away without him feeling it and waking up.

It feels like buying time even though you're too distracted to properly enjoy it- the way they try to cheer you up. Everything that they do to try and make things better feels far away like a photograph- a memory just out of reach- the colors a little off.

Jungkook needily wraps himself around Tae and croons soft reassurance into her ear about how pretty her hair looks, how soft her pajamas make her. And would she like some of her skincare routine? Jungkook will do it for her, will pat it across her cheeks, and won't drag it under her eyes to preserve the state of her wrinkles.

Tae answers all his requests with a simple shake of her head. Eyes still frighteningly blank, that 1000-yard stare that you've all seen on your faces at one point or another, that you see in the reflective surface of Namjoon's phone in the nest, discarded and not charged.

Tae's scent is something awful- none of her usual roses and all cinnamon. Does Tae smell more like her old self because that version of her was always afraid? Or was being a boy the first thing she hated and that's why she smells like boy tae now?

You hate it. You can tell the others hate it too. Yoongi drags her close to scent her silly. cheek and neck going all pink from how hard he scents her, and then scents you, and then goes back again.

Jungkook can do little more than cuddle Tae with Jimin, his big hands smooth down her thighs, while Jimin brushes her hair gently- careful not to let the bristles brush her scalp. He's learned how to take care of her over the last few months and he's the gentlest when it comes to detangling. Not like you- who's so used to ripping through your hair without thought.

Up and down their hands go as Jin fluffs the nest around you all. Making the edges of it higher, and more protective of the fragile pups at the center (like fluffy duvets could ever block bullets. In his dreams- Jin’s love is enough to keep you all safe).

Yoongi and Namjoon are only too happy to oblige him with the nest-making and the general fussing. But in between Jin’s request for a hairdryer and another cold cloth for your hands. You catch them watching the door like they half expect some new threat to appear.

Certain things are harder to ignore; like Yoongi sitting on the edge of the nest with a gun balanced across his thigh. Or the heavy thud of a fresh box of bullets, rattling in their acrylic case when Jimin sets them down on the floor. The red shotgun casings lined up in pretty lines- just like Tae’s lipsticks downstairs.

You ask for one of Hobi's sweatshirts and Yoongi puts the gun away to go and give it to you. Hoseok fingers the edge of your shirt stroking over the meat of your hip idly. But every inch of him is taught like he’s going to have to grab you and hold you down. You lace your hand with his and turn to give him a look.

Yoongi’s back with a sweatshirt but it’s Jin who demands to dress you- to guide your fragile and freshly wrapped hands through the holes. Jin pulls it down around your hips with a soft huff before he gets distracted looking at the bruises on your back and side. From getting thrown back into the wall and from an errant elbow. Every time you twist even a little bit- they ache.

A tub of soothing cream that the pack usually uses for the more wanted kind of bruises sits open on the edge of the nest.

The pack moves about in pairs, here and there. Going down to the ground floor in sets of two. Unwilling to let anyone out of sight. There are guns everywhere, Jimin must have let loose his hidden stash of them. A shotgun leans up against the bathroom door. A handgun with an extended stock is always close at hand. There's a larger plan lingering here. You hear it in Jin's soft reassurances. Said hushed over your heads.

"Witness protection isn't as bad as you think it is Yoongi-"

"It won't work- don't you think we know how it works? That won't be safe enough."

"We have at least a few hours, we don't need to make any decisions now."

Jungkook’s scared voice, “Are we really going to have the leave? The house and everything?” A pause. A look is shared between Jin, Namjoon, and Yoongi. Jimin's eyes remain focused on Tae.

“Maybe bunny, we have to wait and see.”

“Do we have a carrying case for Noodle?”

“I think it’s in…” Yoongi trails off, but Namjoon answers for him.

“Yeah, it’s in the basement.”

They set about keeping watch for the night. those of you that aren't nursing wounds that is- mainly Jimin, Yoongi, and Namjoon- Guns remain at the ready and loaded. Jimin will go first, Yoongi second, and Namjoon last.

Jin tries but Namjoon nudges at his chest and growls in a way that has all of your ears perking up. The pack alpha’s commands can’t easily be ignored. Jungkook tries too to convince them too but even Hoseok shakes his head at him. No one is under any illusions of how fragile this peace is.

No one asks Namjoon to leave the Christmas lights on- but he doesn’t shut them off all the way- leaving just one string lit as a bit of a nightlight. None of you are quite brave enough to risk the darkness.

Hoseok stays close by, his hand clutching your wrist more often than not. Even when the pack settles in for sleep. He wraps his arm around your waist and settles in behind you, caging you in.

(Hoseok’s arms are not the prettiest cage you’ve ever been in but they are the cage you’ve liked the most. You think you’ll miss his arms and his hands. They’re so pretty and long, you lean down and kiss one where it’s gripping the nest and he makes a small noise in surprise that quickly gets swallowed by the hungry quiet.)

The quiet is very hungry, every brush of fabric against skin, every slight movement of the pack sets you a bit on edge. You think it will be hard to sleep- wound up as you are.

You don’t think you're even tired until your head hits the pillow and you have to struggle to stay awake. You want to stay up and listen to the sound of your pack, their soft and measured breathing, the sound of kisses shared above your head, the feel and safety of being in the nest. You want to commit the rhythm of them to memory.

Hoseok’s soft rasping breath on the nape of your neck evens out the more that his swelling goes down. It goes from hissing to more of a squeak as the night settles. Tae shakes through her aforementioned panic attack with all of you piled around her. You get your hand on her ankle at least.

Yoongi and Jimin’s shushing is the only punctuating sound in the half-light. Because what can you say besides sweet nothings when you know she has a perfectly valid reason to fear falling asleep?

You savor every little twitch of their trauma-worn bodies as you flit in and out of an uneasy sleep. Every slight sigh and hand on you rousing you. Jungkook, brushing his fingers through your hair. Hobi, pressed along your back like a second skin shifting and trying to tilt his neck to a more comfortable angle.

You get too hot with Hobi wrapped around you like that, eventually tugging at his sweatshirt that you wear and almost purring when kind gentle hands help detangle you from it with a soothing little shush sound so that you hardly have to wake. Yoongi, around midnight.

Yoongi’s thin but strong fingers rub a soothing touch along your jaw. Soothing away a small sad noise you make that has him curling around your front. The sound of Namjoon's low voice as he says something to your mate and then takes his place at the helm of the nest to stand guard.

“It’s okay pup, I’m here- I’m not going to let anything happen to you- not now- not ever.”

It’s unfortunate, but Namjoon can’t let Tae sleep for more than half an hour before checking her pupillary responses, making sure that her brain isn’t swelling. Concussions are no joke and Namjoon does not take chances with his prettiest alpha. He sends her back off to dreamland with a comforting scent mark and a soothing grumble. After the 5th hour when the risks turn nominal, he decides to just let her sleep.

But Hoseok doesn’t sleep, he can’t really. The pain keeps him awake and what with the way that his neck is injured he can’t find a comfortable position. He shifts and settles the whole night. Keeping you close with that arm around your waist every time you squirm so much as an inch away.

He’s restless until Namjoon gets up to get one of Jimin’s painkillers.

He’s resistant even then, half asleep still fighting. Trying to move away and shaking his head at Namjoon. Namjoon mistakes his unwillingness for simple fussiness and not for fear. If Hobi falls asleep it will be substantially easier to slip away- you watch from below as Namjoon props hobi up and pinches his jaw to make him open his mouth, encouraging the alpha to show his tongue with a prod of those gentle hands. His eyes are barely open, exhausted as he is.

“I know it hurts to swallow Hobi but you’ve got too.” Regardless of his shaken head, Namjoon insistently nudges his mouth with it. Soothing his gag with a stroke of his thumb down Hoseok’s Addams apple. A kiss to his lips for being good.

“This will help the swelling go down, you’ll be okay by morning.”

It’s minutes before they take effect. Slowly- Hoseok’s arm melts away from your stomach. His grip on you slackens from the drugs and his breath evens out. You say a quiet goodbye to him in your head and turn around to face him and kiss his forehead.

At least the last time you touch, it’s soft like that. At least the last time you touch him- it’s gentle.

Yoongi, Jimin, and Namjoon trade-off. A gun shared between the two of them. Perched on the edge of the nest. Eyes on the vacant stairway Infront of them. Listening for every creek and whisper met with a held breath and hand tightening around the gun. Waiting for the violence that you can all feel coming.

You won’t let it hit them; you won’t let it into this house again. Not while you’re still breathing.

When you're sure that Hobi is asleep you roll onto your back and stare up at the Christmas lights twinkling in the dark. You remember watching Jungkook hang them for you. You remember. You'll always try to remember; you promise yourself right then and there that you'll never let the memory slip away. No matter what happens.

You look over at Kookie, face so peaceful in sleep, a pillow hugged to his chest belly down in the nest, cheek squished close to the top of Yoongi's head on your other side. His back rising and falling.

Jungkook has always been a pretty omega. You reach over to him to stroke down the stiff bridge of his nose, to commit his face to memory. When you turn back to Hobi, you do the same, touching across the heart shape of his mouth, the subtle roundness in his cheeks everything. You look around at all of them- your pack, sleeping softly- sleeping safely. Namjoon's wide back, his shoulders that could hold the world up. Unaware that you're watching him.

You’ll remember all of it, every car ride, every trip to the beach. Every joke and jab. You’ll store each of the memories like a found thing in your pocket. A piece of seashell or sea glass.

You’ll take Jungkook’s laughter and store it- a memory to use when you need to remember that it’s okay to be young for a minute more. When you need to look after yourself you’ll remember how Jin did it and follow his example. And when you need to rest and be soft you'll remember yoongi. You’ll remember Tae like a tube of lipstick and see her every day in the color pink. And Jimin-

Jimin has a hard time sleeping. Even when Namjoon takes the last shift. He sleeps with one hand on a gun, spaced protectively in front of Tae. His bad arm unfolded from his sling. Putting his body between her and the staircase. Namjoon’s heart pulses dully with the knowledge of that when he glances back, just to check and make sure that Tae and Hobi are still breathing. You hide your open eyes from him when he turns, going extra still and feigning sleep.

Namjoon tamps down on his instincts; the last thing he wants is for his scent to go sour and possibly rouse them. But in the quiet, Namjoon's mind has too much room to fan out and overanalyze. Panic is a particularly alluring drug, his mind festers in it. Rolling around in bad ideas the way that Noodle would roll around in a puddle of catnip.

If he got the pack together, put you all in cars, and drove you far far away from here would that be enough to keep you all safe from harm? Or would that only be temporary? Is temporary safety worse when you know what you have to come back to? Or should he just try to talk to these people, barter with them something. Would money be enough? How much wouldn't Namjoon give?

You are dreadfully similar to him. Only his planning stays in its infancy stage.

It isn’t all silent. Noises punctuate the night here and there. Namjoon is so on edge that he all but snaps his teeth at the shadows. An alpha on alert.

Namjoon’s ears perk up at every car that dares to drive by your narrow street, the neighbor two houses to the left who leaves for work in the city at 4:05 every morning, right on time. Noodle and the sound of his scrabbly little paws on the stairs, zooming up and down them until Namjoon gets up to scruff him too.

Your freaking cat does not like Namjoon on a normal day, he's only ever loved you and Hobi and tolerated Tae and Jungkook- condemning all the rest to hisses and claws, but Noodle settles with Namjoon's hand on the back of his neck. "See, that wasn't too hard was it?"

Noodle gives one last half-hearted hiss as Namjoon places him gently in the nest where he stays put after curled up around Tae’s head like a fluffy little hat. Purring and licking at her forehead. All but taunting Namjoon with his yellow eyes. Flinty and knowing in the darkness. Bushy tail flailing every time the alpha glances back.

You think you’re being quiet when you push yourself up onto your hands and knees. Untangling Hobi’s arm from around your waist and pulling yourself to the edge of the bed. He's out cold from the painkillers. Barely even stirring.

Noodle stirs however, darting from the nest with a small murr sound as if to say, "see- she's awake so why can't I be?" Tail raised high as he prances to the doorway.

You look striking in the half darkness, a pair of Yoongi’s green flannel pajama pants rolled up several times to fit properly around your hips. A thin white tank top that's almost falling down one shoulder. Namjoon’s heart pulses dully with the need to hold, the need to protect. He makes a soft noise in his throat and your head jerks in his direction.

You swallow, and your lips look dry, eyes glassy and innocent in their tilt when your mussed hair fluffs over your shoulder. Messy from where Hobi was nuzzling it in his sleep.

“I was just getting a glass of water.”

Namjoon wordlessly holds his hand out to help you get out of the nest without teetering or disturbing the others. Noodle dashes back down the stairs with a soft meow. Tae sighs and re-settles, smacking her lips and Jimin’s arm tightens. Your mate turns face up in the nest, chest rising and falling, mouth opening like he can taste your scent on the air.

Namjoon doesn't doubt he can, honed in on you and focused as he always is.

Namjoon doesn’t let go of your hand when your feet find the smooth floor. Instead, he checks the wounds on your hands and verifies that they’re clotting. The margins slotted together properly for minimal scarring (he'd redone the glue-suture after your shower with only gentle scolding). He presses a kiss to the bandages after they're re-fastened. Letting his lips linger there for a second.

Namjoon has always had big hands, warm and steadying as they cradle yours. Small and chapped and scarred.

Instead of continuing on downstairs, you linger for a second by Namjoon’s side. Eating up every breath he breathes, his scent, and the comfort of having him nearby. Something you know you won’t have forever. (Somehow- you know that this will be the last time that Namjoon holds you. You can wait one minute more. You can give him one more minute). He sets the gun to the side and pulls you between his legs.

“Joonie?” You ask.

Your pack alpha wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzles forward, rubbing his spiky head across your midriff. Nose nudging the dimple of your belly button and the slight pudge there with a quiet happy growl.

Namjoon will never not be happy that he can see the evidence of the pack’s love on you. Will never not feel proud of you and how far you've come. He nuzzles, resisting the temptation to bite and nip with a breath let out through clenched teeth.

Namjoon feels your quiet laugh against his cheek. Your warm soft skin swelling with laughter. Namjoon’s face is blushing red when he pulls back to look at you in the darkness. Corralled in the safe circle of his arms, fingers digging into your hips and squeezing.

“What are you doing alpha?”

“Just thinking- just-” Namjoon’s voice gets so much lower in the nighttime, it's a gravely growl. A sound that paints pictures of lightning and clouds hovering low like a blanket.

“When all of this is over, I want to go somewhere new.” Namjoon's hands tighten on your waist. fingers pressing to either side of your spine, thumbs sitting on the soft bones of your hips. “-With you. Just you. Just the two of us. Maybe.” Namjoon fights back a fresh blush at the confused cock of your head. “Maybe- like- a fancy Airbnb? Or something? Would that be fun? Would you like that?”

You pause, humming. Indulging Namjoon in this as he holds you, fingers rubbing endlessly up and down the sensitive small of your back. Eyes wide and imploring like a child.

You're only too happy to forget for a second and imagine. What would happen if you didn’t leave tonight? What would happen if you found some way out of this?

It’s easy to go further than just thinking about a simple weekend getaway. You Imagine far into the future; a day that you'll never see. A future with Namjoon and the pack. It hits you with such a profound heartache when you think it that you half expect to look down and see your white tank top speckled with blood. The ache so keen and visceral but-

Namjoon would be a good father.

He’d be kind and patient. He’d never snap. He’d never yell. For a moment that’s all you want to think about- not a stupid weekend but a lifetime. A family. A world where you’re never yelled at, where you don't have to be afraid, where nothing is hard, and even if it’s hard you do it together.

If you had pups, you know Namjoon would treat every skinned knee like it was surgery. Would never tell them to walk it off or say it wasn’t that bad. You know that he’d go through every tea party with gusto and stay up late to help them with their homework. That he’d struggle to say no but that you might never need to. It would be lovely- getting to give something small and innocent so much safety. It would be nice to have pups with Namjoon.

You can’t say you don’t want it, but you know in that moment that you won't get it. You'll never get to see Namjoon be a father- even if the pups aren't yours or are just his and Jin's. You’d love them all the same. What use is it to Imagine things that you’ll never get? What good are dreams like this but to tease you, just out of reach.

Namjoon nuzzles into your stomach again. His nose drawing soft circles just under your belly button.

You’d be a shit mother anyway. Too fragile. Too nervous. Too hurt. Too much of everything. You'd fuck them up just by being you. You'd fuck them up the same way you've fucked up this perfectly good pack. You've brought nothing but destruction upon them. The evidence of your wreckage is everywhere. The bullets in the ceiling, the blown apart door. Your hands and Hobi's throat. All of this is because of you.

You snap back to the present, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You’re gnawing at your own leg to survive. All things that bite cannot resist it. What good does hope do at the end other than to hurt?

You can't resist asking Namjoon for more, curled around you like a protective barrier to keep out all the world's hurts (or to keep you in).

“If we went? Where would we go? If we made it- What would it be like Joonie?”

Namjoon rests his chin on your belly button and looks up at you. Completely unaware of the longing tearing its way through you, of what you’re thinking about. Not just one trip or one year, but ten or twenty or thirty.

“Maybe south, to see the cherry blossoms?”

“We couldn’t go, not without Tae- cuz of the pink, and Hobi- cuz of the flowers”

Namjoon nods, agreeing. “Yeah- she does really like anything that’s pink.” There is a Tae-shaped smile on his face, you can feel it stretching your lips too. But he shakes it off, head bowed before you. Eyes closed against the image.

“Still, somewhere safe and quiet just for us, just for you and I to take a deep breath and-” Namjoon trails off, looking up at you. His eyes sparkle with the idea of it, all the little moments he’s picturing.

A private morning where he wakes up to just you. Where you hog his warm spot and his pillow in the chilly spring air. Your cold toes pressed to his shins with nothing to do but appreciate each other and take your loving slow and intentional. Your body and his body and all the space and laughter that you want in between. An idyllic picture of two young people quietly in love. Gently in it.

After almost losing all of it, he wants the chance to properly appreciate you one-on-one. The others too- but they’re asleep, and sleeping vessels cannot reply to Namjoon’s daydreams. You are the only one awake.

(In Namjoon's fantasy, he'll give each of his packmates a different trip. every one of them even if it's just the ones he's recently almost lost that have him thinking of these particular plans.

Hobi would want just a day trip. Namjoon knows the alpha doesn’t really like to be separated from the pack for all that long, a few hours sure. Maybe to some vintage stores that he’s been eyeing to the city or the botanical garden.

Seokjin he’d take somewhere grand and big and full of adventure, maybe to 6 Flags or something. Jin likes to be reminded that he’s allowed to be a kid again, that he doesn’t always have to look after everyone all the time. That he has Namjoon to lean on.

Tae, he’d take somewhere gilded just as she is, like teatime at the Ritz- or maybe abroad to the castle of Versailles. The hall of mirrors and a million pictures of Tae in pretty dresses, twirling. In Namjoon’s head- he watches her turn and flutter slowly like a top. Spinning and spinning).

But none of that is quite your style. You don't really crave outings or adrenaline or gilded things. Your wants are much more simple maybe- because you've always known how priceless quiet and peace is. Gentleness is all you've ever really wanted- not excitement or acclaim or ego.

“A little cabin somewhere in the mountains, a spot for just us. We wouldn’t even have to do anything, A staycation. A night or two.” As the world spins on, you are who Namjoon craves to be still with.

You swallow hard, lingering, still half leaning over him still. Letting him nose at your jaw and purr.

“That would be so nice Joonie."

You swallow, throat thick with something. You lean forward pressing a kiss- too brief, to his lips, Namjoon’s lips part and he breathes gently. You blink back the glassiness in your eye and hope that Namjoon dismisses it as the light from the moon streaming through one of the skylights. All white and black. Wrenching you through something that feels like film. You commit the feel of him and the sound of his voice to memory and then pull back.

“I really need to get a glass of water.”

Namjoon shifts to get up, to come with you, but you just laugh at him and push at his shoulder, he flops back onto the bed.

“I can go on my own Joonie.” He grumbles but stays put. Nosing at the goosebumps on your arms and leaning to retrieve Hobi’s sweatshirt from where you left it in the nest. It smells like sleeping pups and Jin. Milky and soft and safe. Namjoon’s body shivers happily when he sees you put it on.

You squirm out from between his legs. His palm stays wrapped around the tips of your fingers. They slide out of his a little, and then all the way.

“It’s not safe.” You heave a tired sigh, what he thinks is a tired sigh but is actually you trying your hardest not to cry. You lean over him to grab the gun from where it’s rested against the nesting barrier. Getting your phone while you’re at it and sliding it into the pocket of your sweatshirt.

“Is that better?” Namjoon grumbles but still lets you go. Sitting there on the edge of your nest and guarding the others. You look back at him from the top of the stairs and smile.

The house is quiet, with no creeks on the stairs and no winds blowing across the roof. No sound at all in the house beyond your quiet footsteps that Namjoon listens to as you go down the stairs.

Feeling every second of your distance like the sluggish beat of his heart, thump thump thump. Namjoon looks back to look at his pack. Their bodies curled and resting, so gentle in sleep. After a few minutes, there are footsteps on the stairs, small soft ones.

Thump.

“They’re so beautiful” Namjoon comments to you. Waiting for reply.

The silence gnashes its teeth, still hungry.

When Namjoon turns back, it’s not you standing at the top of the stairs- just Noodle with his tail raised high. His yellow eyes glow almost florescent in the darkness, meowing and hissing so loud it might wake the others.

“Noodle, quiet.” The cat just doesn’t quit, batting at Namjoon’s ankles, claws and all. “Noodle- hush.” He scoops up the fussy cat, but Namjoon’s only reward is some claws to his forearms and some more squirming.

Downstairs, he hears a sound that makes him pause. Instincts going from at peace to on edge.

Thump

The front door opens and closes softly with a soft click of the metal doorknob.

Thump

Namjoon goes to the top of the stairs, holding Noodle in his arms before the cat squirms and falls to the floor with a thud. “Pup?” he calls, hushed. You don’t respond. Only silence greets him, sated at last.

Thump, breath, thud.

Namjoon waits a moment, listening for a response that doesn't come before he goes down the stairs, Noodle nearly trips him on the way down, hissing and pacing back and forth in front of the door. The ground floor of the house is completely absent of you- absent of anyone friend or foe. The room is soaked in the blue darkness of morning that is not quite dawn. The white countertops are unassuming and the plates stay in their places.

Thud.

The couch still has its dark spot from where Jin cleaned it. The tangerines are safely in the bowl back on the counter shining like several small suns or planets. Everything is empty empty empty.

Thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud

Namjoon checks the shoe rack. Your sneakers are missing, the same ones that match Hobi's and usually sit side by side with his. The spot where they should be empty.

Thud

Your wallet is missing from the bowl just inside the door.

Thud

Namjoon looks out onto the street and finds it empty.

Thud thud thud

Namjoon does not panic, Namjoon does not head out onto the street and chase you down- maybe he should have. He should have done any number of things. The sun is just barely rising turning the sky into that honey blue-green color and Namjoon just stands there and stares.

Namjoon is frozen. What kind of alpha is he- why kind of alpha freezes instead of fights or flights?

Thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud

A few minutes pass and something must tip off the packmates upstairs- either the empty nest or the sound of Noodle yowling and quite literally trying to bite Yoongi's ear off.

The next thing Namjoon is aware of is Yoongi is on the stairs, looking pissed off, looking terrified. almost falling down them with the speed at which he descends.

He takes the stairs down two at a time, colliding with Namjoon at the bottom of them. He looks like a puffed-up cat, hair wild and eyes equally as glaring as Noodles when he shakes Namjoon, just a little. “Where is she? Namjoon? Where did she go? Where is my mate!?"

Is it Yoongi's scent- acrid and angry- that knocks him out of his stupor? Or is it the top of his ruffled head almost colliding with the bottom of Namjoon’s jaw when the beta shakes him again.

Namjoon stutters, panic making him inarticulate. So scared he repeats it twice. "I don't know- I don't know, I- she said she was just getting a glass of water. I swear-"

Yoongi's fists tangle in the front of Namjoon's shirt. He sounds sick with it. Voice twisting in pitch.

"You were supposed to keep an eye on her- you weren't supposed to let her out of your fucking sight.”

There are other people on the stairs, roused by the sound of raised voices. A lone light flicked on sends everyone into yellow chiaroscuro. Namjoon is still staring at the street, heart thundering quicker than your footsteps as you run. The streetlights wink out behind you as you go. Fleeing with the night and bowing under the weight of oncoming daylight. Running as fast as your body can carry you.

Could he catch up if he started running now?

It's Jungkook, his dark hair pushed up at the side where it rested against the nest, who asks, “What happened?What’s going on?”

Tae’s eyes dart between Yoongi and Namjoon, her pink silk dressing gown wrapped tight around her shoulders. “Where’s the pup?”

"Yeah Namjoon, where the fuck is my mate??" Yoongi grits his teeth, shaking Namjoon so hard it almost knocks him off his feet and sends him careening a little into the narrow dresser table that the pack keeps by the door for gloves and mittens and keys and wallets.

“I don’t know, I don’t-"

Jungkook and Tae have just spilled out from the stairs into the entryway when Yoongi’s hands hit his shoulders, pushing and then digging into Namjoon’s skin. He’s shaking so hard he can hardly speak.

“You were supposed to be watching her. You were supposed to make sure she was safe-”

“Yoongi- hey- Stop” Tae’s not shaking anymore when gets her hands on his shoulders pulling him away from namjoon where he simmers. Jin is still asleep upstairs. Hasn’t been roused by all the tense voices. Too tired from yesterday- from staying up to scrub blood with Yoongi.

Jungkook skitters to the door as Jimin and hobi descend the steps. nearly bouncing on his heels as he opens the front door letting in a gush of cold air. “What are we waiting for? lets go."

Yoongi's face crumples. “I don’t get it, where did she go- why would she have-”

Hoseok swallows but talks softly, the swelling’s gone down enough even though the bruises look a million times worst in the sunlight streaming through the window. It’s not even 6am yet. His soft hiss is gentle, but the pack pauses to hear it.

“A deal- I think she made a deal.”

It's the first words he’s been able to speak since the attack. Vocal cords straining with every word. Everyone quiets to listen to Hobi. Jimin’s got the shotgun in his hands. He leans it up against the doorway. The heavy thunk punctuates the shocked quiet- but hobi continues.

“When the man was here- she tried to barter our lives with hers." Everyone looks to Tae. And her eyes lower to the floor.

“She did say that but I didn’t think she was serious, I just thought-”

The conversation is a flurry, everyone talking over each other as conversation explodes. Yoongi's face twists from devastated to enraged. “Jesus fucking Christ- that stupid stupid-”

Jungkook clings to Jimin's t-shirt, “What are we going to do? Hyung- what should we-”

Jimin hasn't spoken a word yet, and softly draws Jungkook's hands away from his shirt. “Where would she even have even gone?"

“Did someone pick her up?” Hobi’s words seem to ring out, even though his voice is so fragile.

Namjoon shakes his head. “No- I was listening, I didn’t hear any car in the road- not for like the whole hour.”

“So, you were listening enough to hear the street but not to stop her from literally walking away from us, great. Good to know Namjoon.”

“Yoongi that is like- the opposite of helpful.”

“There's still the matter of where would she have gone. She didn't take a car-” Hoseok looks up in Tae’s direction. She sees the realization light across his face.

“Hobi?”

But Hoseok ignores her, lurching to the small cabinet by the front door; the pack’s drop-off points for their keys, their wallets and your fuzzy little purse from your first ever date with jimin and tae as well as a good slice of Tae’s collection of little red pocketbooks. They keep their things this way because Namjoon loses his keys at least once a month a nd having a communal spot always helps the general disorder of having 8 people live in one house.

Hoseok scrambles not for your wallet but for his.

He reaches for his wallet. Opening it and searching but-

The train ticket is gone.

Your train ticket- the one that you gave Hobi for safekeeping so many months ago is missing from where he usually keeps it in the last slot. Right next to that folded poem of Tae's and an old gift card. In its place is just a simple folded note, a new piece of paper that hasn’t been worn soft at the edges yet. Torn from the same pad of paper that Jin writes the grocery list on. Hoseok’s hands shake as they fish it out. 5 words that aren’t nearly enough.

I’m sorry, I love you.

You’d never told him that- that you loved him. Not after you’d had sex and he’d confessed. Not in the tangle of moments that followed with Jimin bloody and the pack breaking. You’d never spilled your heart to him that way. In the back of his head, he realizes that there just hadn’t been time.

This is the first time you’ve told Hoseok you love him and maybe the last. Hoseok’s heart beats quick. She loves me. Thump. She loves me. Thump. She loves-

Hoseok shoots off like a bullet out the open door, thundering across the porch slats. Too fast for the rest of the sleepy pack to properly anticipate and follow. Peering out after him, a little sluggish and a lot shocked. His socks skid and slip as he tries to arrest his momentum and almost falls as He doubles back for his shoes.

The rest of the pack stares down at him blankly as he tugs them on, sprawled there on the floor just outside the door. Hands shaking too much for bunny-eared loops. He doesn’t even bother to lace them before he’s lunging for his car keys in the bowl too. Nearly knocking over the table in his haste.

“The train station- she’s going to the train station.” He gasps.

The words you shared that night ring in his head, playing on repeat. Like a record that’s been scratched too many times. He’s replayed those moments too many times. He’s not sure if he remembers it correctly.

“Give me one chance, let me try to convince you to stay and if I can’t- then I’ll let you go, and I won’t tell Yoongi what train you took.”

The countless times you’d joked with him after that, the moment so light that Hoseok didn’t notice the weight behind them.

“You still got that train ticket?”

“Of course I do.”

Hoseok never thought that you’d use it. He thought that the ticket would have stayed frayed and pretty in his wallet until you framed it or something. Until you could look back on it and laugh and say things like “remember that night? Remember how it used to be before we loved each other?”

“No, I don’t, can you remind me?”

This is not that, this is not the future that Hoseok had imagined for the two of you. This abject terror. Suddenly Hoseok is unmoored, suddenly he is falling. Usually, you can see the end from a mile away. Is it worse if you lose the person you love because of circumstance or because they decide to leave on their own? Hoseok never thought you'd actually do it.

Hoseok thought your promise last night meant something. Later when he’s not so scared he’ll remember that he’s angry about that.

The rest of the pack explodes too. Jungkook doesn’t bother to put on his shoes- just heaves Hobi up by his shoulders and pushes him towards his car. Yoongi snatches both of their pairs from the floor and joins them. Cold feet on the small pea-gravel driveway. Jimin darts forward wrenching off his arm sling regardless of Namjoon’s protests.

“I’ll drive” Jimin doesn’t have to wrestle with Hoseok’s keys for long. Even with his hands numb Jimin is still the best driver. He won’t pull corners or care about hitting curbs. He reeves it with a roaring purr while the rest get in and looks at Tae in the rearview mirror. Standing on the porch looking breakable and not all there still. Her eyes on his have that same peculiar weight, the same weight that makes Jimin’s blood sing with purpose.

If there was ever someone that Tae needed, it was you. Not Jimin. He will haul you back from the edge of hell if he needs to, for her. because this is not the ending that you and tae deserve. Jimin will tear you from hell. Teeth and sin and all.

Jungkook has barely shut the door before Jimin peals out, reversing until the tires screech against the asphalt and leave dark lines in their wake. Tire tracks, strings of fate, shoelaces. He shoots off down the street and out of sight, knocking over a trash bin with a clang and leaving Tae and Namjoon back on the porch.

Hoseok knows the name of the station you were most likely to go to but not how to get to it. It's an 15 minute walk, maybe a 10 minute run and it's already been 8 since you left. Jimin points his car in the direction of the main road while he pulls it up on his cell phone.

With every sharp turn Yoongi and Jungkook slosh in the back seat and hit into each other. Some early morning commuter honks his horn at Jimin but he doesn’t even see them. The scenery flickering by and the asphalt melting away underneath the wheels of Hoseok’s red car. The small grey towns melt away, Break lights bleeding less than they should. The engine stutters and engages but no one cares about the uneven acceleration. Hoseok would total this car in a heartbeat if it meant getting you in time.

At the straightaway Jungkook stoops to slip his feet into his shoes, Yoongi holding his shoulder. The phone in between them slides on the leather seat, spitting out its electronic voice, overly cheerful.

"Re-routing!"

“Wait Minnie- go left.”

“Fuck!” Jimin makes the turn just barely, sparks skittering and burning out as he goes over one of those tiny reflective dividers. Hoseok curses every pothole for damaging their momentum and slowing them down.

“Are you sure? Are you sure that it’s this station that she'd go to?” Hoseok’s heart is thundering in his ears, beating furious and fast.

“Almost positive.” Yoongi holds onto the back of Hoseok’s chair to keep himself in place.

“We have to get to her before she gets to the city. Can’t you go any faster?” Jimin jerks the wheel around a flashy BMW. Almost hitting them with how close he gets. Jimin lets the speedometer answer Yoongi's question. Pushing 60 in a 35 and then 70.

Your note is crumpled tight in Hoseok's fist, a tiny bit of yellow paper that he unfolds and looks at before shoving deep within the confines of his jacket.

Yoongi is not looking at hoseok when he says his next sentence. Hoseok's not even thinking about his old pack, he's just thinking about the fact that you love him and he never got to hear you say it. Not when Yoongi pulls himself almost between his and Jimin’s seat and repeats the same to Jimin again, the same only different.

Thud.

“We have to get to her before Moonbyul does, if she gets to her- I don't know what I'll be able to do Minnie- even with the power that I have Moonbyul still has more-”

Hobi’s flinch is visceral, jerking like he's shocked.

He turns around to look at Yoongi as Jimin blows through a stop sign and then a red light. Jungkook winces and doesn’t say anything. Pushing Yoongi’s shoes across the seat. “Hyung- you should get ready to run.”

Hoseok and Yoongi look at each other. Hoseok's turned almost all the way around in his seat to stare at Yoongi- more specifically Yoongi’s mouth. He’s not sure if Jimin’s painkillers would make him hallucinate but that’s the only logical reason his brain can come up with after hearing that name- her name- come out of Yoongi’s mouth.

“What?"

Jimin's voice is deathly quiet. "Hoseok- turn the fuck around. If I get into an accident at this speed you will die if you're not facing forward to the airbag."

Hoseok turns back to face the road. Jimin grips the wheel so hard his knuckles are white. “Thank you.”

The sunlight is just cresting the tops of the trees. Dotting the scenery blue and yellow. Hoseok’s ears are ringing with her name.

Yoongi pulls himself closer to Hoseok, hands still gripping the headrest, the only thing that keeps him from bobbing and moving with the movement of the car. Eyes locked on Hoseok's face in the rearview mirror.

"I said something- I said something and you're having a thought."

"I fucking hope so-" Jungkook's quip goes unnoticed. Unnoticed through the volley of honking horns as the red car tares through the street. By some miracle, they haven’t passed a cop car yet.

Hoseok looks in the rearview mirror, at Yoongi’s face. Biting his lower lip. “It’s nothing just that name.”

Hoseok looks at Yoongi and all he can think about is how he'd never said- he'd never told Yoongi their names. Saying them or even thinking them reminds Hoseok too much of his own begging. What kind of alpha begs for an omega to hurt them- to stay?

Yoongi just about puts himself in the front seat of the car as Jimin breaks hard to navigate around a tractor-trailer. Riding on the shoulder, the rumble strips vibrating all of them hard and roaring just like Hoseok’s blood thundering through his ears.

“Moonbyul? Moon Byul-yi? You know it?”

Hoseok shivers, the reaction of his body route, unavoidable. Jarring. Trauma builds itself into your bones whether you like it or not. Triggers are not so much a part of you as they are a light switch that makes the worst parts of you turn on.

"Yeah- I do. It’s the name of my ex-pack omega.” Now it’s Jimin’s turn to be distracted, and he almost gets into an accident for his troubles. They’re silent for a second, Yoongi and Jimin look at each other.

“It could be the same name.”

Yoongi scrambles for his phone on the seat right as Jimin makes a turn and it goes flying. He finds it underneath Hoseok’s seat, hands slippery with sweat on it.

“Hang on, I think I have a picture of her somewhere.”

Yoongi scrolls all the way to the back in his phone. Switches to Instagram, going back and back and back through time, and then he's sticking it in Hoseok's face.

Seeing her face feels like Yoongi’s slapped him. Her face is on Yoongi's phone. Why is her face on Yoongi’s phone? Her hair is longer than it was when they dated, she must not have cut it since. But it's definitely her.

Hoseok feels like he's spinning, it's been so long since he's seen her face but it's definitely the one from his nightmares, the one he sees grinning and crooning false praises that have stuck to Hoseok's soul like glue. The face that he sees behind his eyes and sees in every criticizing comment only on his bad days. She's standing shoulder to shoulder with Yoongi, both of them in black suits along with a man that looks enough like Yoongi for him to guess that that's his brother, your ex-husband.

Your abuser and his and Yoongi in between them. Hoseok can only hear ringing in his ears, he knows he sounds accusatory when he snaps. "How the fuck do you know my ex-pack omega?"

“She’s my cousin. Are you sure that's her?”

Hoseok feels like he’s spinning. “Yeah, I'm sure.”

“I thought you said your old pack was all omega’s?” Yoongi knows Hoseok’s lore, knows it like he knows the back of his hand. He looks up, hair falling across his face. Hoseok frowns jabbing his finger at the phone.

“I did. She’s an omega.”

The dissonance hits him and Yoongi almost wants to disagree but then-

Hoseok watches the lightbulb go off, Yoongi’s eyes widening imperceptibly as he paws at the phone and Hoseok’s hand. The car sickness lurches in his stomach as he turns to look back at Yoongi, and the g force hits him as Jimin takes another turn Impossibly fast. The seatbelt across Hobi’s chest engages with a click, digging into his skin and the bruises on his neck with a painful jerk.

“Are you sure? Hoseok- you have to be sure.”

“I’m sure.”

This is all a game of leverage. A game of who knows what secret and what gets exchanged for whom. Yoongi spent most of last night wondering about Moonbyul's motivation, and now he knows why.

Hoseok is holding onto Yoongi’s phone, they’re hands gripping it together. “Is this who she’s going too? The one who tried to kill us? Is-” Hoseok has to swallow to get the words out right. “Is Moonbyul the one trying to take her?”

“Yes.”

Hoseok shivers, eyes darkening, scent spiraling wildly. His muscles trembling as he thinks about it. You and Moonbyul.

Yoongi pulls himself around Jimin’s headrest. Hand on his throat, digging into his scent gland. He doesn't have time to explain to them.

Only alphas can lead the family, only alphas can rule. If Moonbyul isn't one- that calls into question the legitimacy of her rule. The families would never stand to see an omega on the throne, she'd be ousted, probably killed for daring to lie. The families would tear her apart piece by piece and Yoongi would let them.

If Moonbyul is the person who hurt Hobi- and now she's going after you- that's two people that Yoongi loves that she's directly hurt. Yoongi is thinking all sorts of dangerous things. But they have to get to you first.

If Moonbyul isn't an alpha then Yoongi's just found his leverage and maybe the whole reason why the pack was targeted in the first place.

A packmate for a secret. Yoongi imagines the worst-case scenario; Don't tell and I won't hurt her. Don’t tell anyone and she lives.

How long had she stewed and festered- knowing that Hoseok was out there- knowing that he knew the secret that could lead to her undoing. Maybe she thought his knowing would never come back to bite her, and had intended on tying up the loose end later. Maybe she didn't know Hoseok had found his way into Yoongi's arms until after the old Don and Beta had died. She probably thought that they’d never put it together- at least not until it was too late.

Whatever her reasons, this has gone on long enough.

Yoongi opens his mouth, but Hoseok’s body is taught like a spring-loaded and ready to burst. His voice a near growl.

“Jimin, I need you to drive.”

~-~

Tae and Namjoon are left standing there on the porch. Namjoon left staring after them as they hurl away from the house. Running his hands through his hair hard. Thinking of what to do until-

Tae tugs on his sleeve, “Your phone- Joonie- you should call her.”

“Right- fuck-” Namjoon goes and gets it, and comes back to stand with Tae on the porch. “Come on- come on pick up.” Namjoon paces back and forth on the front porch, the snowmelt from the roof drips out an uneven rhythm onto the railing. the cold spray hitting his stress-warm skin.

Tae stands by the door. Frozen, a statue of Namjoon’s distress. Inside, Namjoon hears a voice. Jin coming down the stairs, probably roused by the sound of the car screeching out of the driveway and down the road.

“Tae? Where is everybody?”

“Pup’s being stupid. The others left to go get her before she’s like- really really stupid.”

Jin freezes in the doorway, fist rubbing his eye. He sounds smaller and younger than Namjoon’s ever heard him. “Am I having a bad dream?” namjoon's pacing stutters and then starts up again. Jin doesn't need him right now, Jin he can help later.

Tae takes Jin's hand and leads him to the outdoor furniture. The cushions have to be damp but they sit anyway. Tae pulls her knees under her and rests her cheek on Jin's shoulder. “That’s what I thought too at first.”

Namjoon almost sobs when he hears it- the click of the dial tone and a single breath. He can hear the thud of the train in the background, the hiss of pressure against the scratchy speaker.

“Pup? oh thank god, stay where you are- the others are-”

“Namjoon? Joonie stop- I didn’t pick up so that you could convince me to come back. I only picked up because I never said goodbye.”

Namjoon freezes, and he feels like the snowmelt from the roof has just dripped down his back. Growing frigid more with each word. If there was ever a question on if you’d gone willingly or been taken- it was answered with that.

“Pup, come home right now or I swear to god-”

“No! For once you’re going to listen!” You’ve only shouted at him a handful of times and he’s hardly ever heard you sound so serious.

"No- you can't-"

“Namjoon, The second you say anything to try and convince me to stay is the moment I hang up, so what is it gonna be?”

Namjoon goes silent and stops his pacing. Holding the phone so hard it feels like the plastic and metal might break.

Namjoon’s very being hinges on every syllable you say, Like the ocean hinges on the moon. Water tethered and kept from the shore by something as simple as gravity. Tae is right there. Tae is watching the driveway not saying anything with that same blank look Namjoon has seen on your face countless times.

All at once Namjoon is reminded of you in the summertime back when he first met you and trauma had you all quiet. Staring off into space in much the same way. Small and fragile and worth saving. You’ve always been that for him; worth saving.

Jin scrubs a hand across his face, clearing himself of the last little bits of sleep. He holds out his hand for the phone, but Namjoon doesn’t give it to him just paces right by him as he listens to you.

“I only picked up the phone because I have some things that I want to say to you.”

You sound more settled and less angry but just as resigned and convicted of what you're doing. Like no part of you doubts your choices. Namjoon wishes you sounded angry, that you sounded sad, but you don’t sound like any of those things.

“I'm not leaving because I think I don't deserve a life with you and the pack. I’m not leaving because I think that I’m not worth your love. I’m leaving because for the first time I know that I am.

“For the first time I understand why Yoongi left and why he didn’t come back until he knew it would be safe. Because when you love something the way that I love you, you’ll do anything to protect them. Can you really blame me Joonie? For doing what you might have done?”

You continue on like you’re not wrenching Namjoon’s heart clean from his chest. Like you’re not a hurricane on his very being- dark and thunderous tearing through him as impersonal as wind. Namjoon’s heart thuds and thuds and thuds.

“Before I leave you, I want you to know that if I loved you less- I might have stayed.”

Namjoon’s lungs ache, ache and sting and swell with words he can’t say, he can’t breathe. His mouth screwed into a soundless sob. He actually might be having a panic attack. He's never had one before- he's not sure if he knows what one feels like. If it's like this- if it's like this he can understand why people call them an attack.

It's frantic, like he's chewing off his own leg to get out of your words. The panic is so terrible. Namjoon hasn't been this scared since he was a child. At least Yoongi had the fucking decency not to make his leaving so visceral.

Namjoon is bent over, tears dripping down his nose, sagging almost to his knees. “Why are you doing this to us!? To me!”

Something jiggles the phone, something that makes your voice all warbly- Namjoon imagines you on the train in a window seat. Resting your cheek against the balmy glass while you talk to him. Staring out at the scenery racing by. Hurtling towards your future like a comet or maybe an asteroid (something more destructive- more appropriate for the wretchedness filling Namjoon’s lungs like tar, the desiccated bodies of the dreams he had for you and the plans he made with you in mind clogging his lungs and making it hard to breathe).

Who knows, maybe off between the trees and the road, you see a red car zooming, trying to keep pace with the train.

Namjoon’s heart feels like it’s skipping too many beats.

“Something Jin told me the other day got stuck in my head and I keep thinking about it, would you like to hear it?”

You take his silence for permission and Namjoon does not turn to look at Jin and Tae sitting on the outdoor furniture. They just sit there; they don't do anything. Namjoon wishes there was something they could do or something he could barter for your safe return but you already have all of him and all of him wasn't enough to make you stay.

“Jin showed me this little article the other day- a few weeks ago now. He can tell you it in more detail but basically, it was about these mice.”

Namjoon struggles to say something- unsure where you’re going with this but desperate to keep you on the line. At least until the others get to you. Drinking down your voice, the whisper of your breath, everything.

“They made like- two test groups, they wanted to measure like- willpower- or how long they would try to live before they gave up. It’s kinda dark I guess. I'm not a good judge of things like that you know.”

Your laugh is the prettiest and saddest thing that Namjoon’s ever heard. He wants to record it and save it for later like some hidden track and he never wants to hear it again.

“Anyways- they put the mice and a bucket of water and timed how long it took for them to stop swimming, to stop trying to live. They’d try for a little while but give up pretty quickly. Like- an hour. That’s how much will to live that they had: an hour’s worth of it.”

Namjoon breaks, shouting, “I don’t want to talk about mice I want to talk about getting you the fuck home!”

Namjoon can hear your smile in your voice, And no-no-no you won’t even let him fight- you won’t even let him snap at you and engage with it. Namjoon’s seen you sad, he’s seen you defeated. He’s seen you so hungry you could hardly hold your head up. But seeing you convicted of this punishment is worse than anything.

“Anyway- they just killed the first group for a baseline. But with the second group just before they died- just before they went underwater- They took them out of the water and dried them off.”

Your voice goes hushed at the end. The morning sunlight cuts across the top of the house yellow. The tree too- it’s early morning- Namjoon’s favorite time of day and he won’t be ever able to properly enjoy it again. Won’t ever be able to wake up at this time of day and not think about the morning you left.

“They let them rest and gave them some food.”

Namjoon feels like he’s about to have a heart attack, blood thumping and hitting against his ribcage. Bullying out the flowers and the butterflies in his stomach.

“Cuddled them a little.”

Namjoon stands at the doorway to the pack den. Hands so tight in their fists that they ache and ache. Namjoon’s hands have saved countless people’s lives before, and they’ve saved yours too- but right now they just hurt.

“And when they put them back in,”

Noodle meows dolefully from the door, swatting at Jin’s ankles and then purring around Tae’s. Namjoon’s knees are shaking.

“They lasted for a whole 12 hours longer. Because they thought they might be saved. Because they had some love to remember. They were able to last for a lot longer than they would have otherwise.”

His face is screwed something terrible with how hard he’s sobbing. How is it that just an hour ago you were safe in his arms, talking about getting away from here. Just an hour ago. It's still 5am a time zone away, if Namjoon got on a plane and flew there- would you still be safe? Is there any way to turn back time?

You only get to love people for as long as you get and not a second more. You get what you get and you don't get upset. Yoongi might have been your lifeblood, the air in your lungs and your reason for existing, but you’d still be that fragile creature close to drowning if it wasn’t for Namjoon.

“Namjoon?” You say his name once and then softer, a croon. “Joonie.”

He's sobbing too hard to see, “Don’t-”

“Thank you for drying me off.”

The phone clicks and disconnects.

Namjoon falls to the stairs, ass in a puddle but none of him cares. He remembers the first day he heard you speak, sitting on these stairs while he helped Yoongi fix the railing. Namjoon remembers the summer heat and feeling scared for you for the first time- because the railing felt so rickety and the last thing he wanted was for you or Jungkook or Hobi to fall. Namjoon is the one who is falling, hurtling towards destruction that stops and ends with his heart.

His hands hurt. He remembers laughing with the others and stealing sips of sweet tea. Nibbling on the sour lemons, sweaty and hot and dusty. His eyes feel like they’re going to fall out of his head with how hard he’s crying. He remembers that you’d poked his dimples and called them pretty, he remembers feeling tired after but fulfilled for it.

One scene in summer and the other in winter now. At the beginning of a relationship and now at the end. The stairs still creek, the wind still blows and Namjoon's hands are still sweaty.

Namjoon sobs loudly and it echos across the empty cul-de-sac gut-wrenching. People cry differently when they lose people they love. Namjoon has heard people cry like this after he’s told them bad news, no sign of brain activity. We did everything that we could. I'm so sorry. It sounds different now that it’s coming out of his own mouth.

He actually might pass out with how hard he’s breathing. Teeth dig into his lower lip so hard he tastes blood. He’s still holding the phone to his ear. “Pup- wait- I love you- you can’t do this to us- to me.” But you’ve already hung up on him.

The dial tone tears through him like a bullet. Namjoon should be bleeding, broken hearts don't hurt this much without blood. People don’t hurt this much without actual wounds.

Eventually, something touches his back, a soft furry creature that only makes Namjoon sob harder as Noodle bullies his way under Namjoon’s arm and licks at his fingertips. Before long there’s hands on him. Jin and Tae pull him up and onto the furniture. One hand in his hair and the other on his shoulder. Jin grabs his wrist. Circling it gently before he holds his hands and nudges them until they relax from their clenched fists.

Namjoon cries.

Together they watch the road and wait for the others to return.

~-~

(Hidden playlist ▶ Play track?)

“Shit!”

They miss the first train by just a few seconds. It screeches away from the platform when Jungkook gets out of the car. Standing there for a breath and watching it pull away. The metal thud screech of it drowns out Yoongi’s voice.

Jimin hits the wheel and growls before he revs the engine and turns, almost hitting a fire hydrant with how quick and jerky he backs up and accelerates. Leaning forward through the window to snap at Jungkook.

“Get back in the fucking car!”

Jungkook does, the door barely latching and almost swinging free as Jimin peels out of the parking lot. Slamming back shut when Jimin does a near 180 to accelerate back onto the main road.

“Sorry hyung,” Yoongi doesn’t need to reply- they all know that every second matters.

Jimin almost collides with a car stopped at the light before he drives on the shoulder, spinning around them. The train matches the road at this part of the tracks so it’s easy to follow it. They keep pace with it as Jimin pushes 70 miles an hour and then 80.

Jimin keeps the gas pedal well acquainted with the floor until they're going faster than the train. Weaving in and out of traffic back and forth, getting honked at and almost cut off several times. Leaving his packmates to grip to seats and their handles. Worried about getting thrown off but still- not wearing their seatbelts.

“We’re never going to make it! It’s too fast! We’re going to hit traffic soon!” The closer they get to the city the less likely it is that they'll be able to catch up to you. It's nearly early morning rush hour, another 30 minutes and these roads will be at a standstill.

“Hang on- let me see the map,” Hoseok watches Yoongi look at it.

“If we go to the next station, we won’t make it. But, if we try to go to the one after that and cut it off-” A look around the car says everyone agrees with Yoongi. Jimin steps on it, and there are a terrifying few minutes where Jimin’s driving skills honestly make them all count their prayers and promise things to gods that they’re already not fond of- but when they skitter and screech into the next station he hears it.

“The next inbound train will be arriving shortly, please collect your belongings. And remember-“

Hoseok is hot on the announcements heals. Sliding to get out of the car before it’s really stopped. “If we miss this one just go to the next station without us-”

“-if you see something say something.”

The train is coming- Hoseok can see the lights about a 100 feet down the tracks and it's moving fast. Yoongi almost makes to get out but Hoseok just shoves him back inside. Jungkook gets out of the car too, bolting in the direction of the stairs. “Hoseok-”

“Yoongi- Just go!”

There are maybe three flights of stairs up, then 50 feet across the tracks, and then the same amount of steps down. He and Jungkook book it up them. Making every second count. Hurtling through time and air. Ignoring the sore and tired pulse of their muscles. They’re clearing the top step and the train is below them. A silver bullet careening and destined to do damage but slowing down.

They bolt across the landing past the ticket kiosk and through the push doors. The train is stopping with a hiss of breaks and a screech of metal. A release of pressurized air that billows up to them warm carrying with it the smell of tar and city.

Hoseok’s lungs are burning. Jungkook is usually faster by just a little bit and would be on any ordinary day. They might be roughly the same height but Hoseok doesn't do cardio nearly as often as Jungkook does. Jungkook's the one who runs every day, who does cardio like it's sleeping and marathons like they're mid-afternoon naps. Who works out and hones his body to a lethal edge just because he can.

But he doesn’t run like Hoseok does.

Hoseok runs like his life depends on it- the same way you would run if he was walking into Geumjae’s arms. You’d never let Geumjae touch even a hair on Hoseok’s head and if- if Moonbyul is who you’re going to- then there is more at stake than just your phsyical safety, too much at stake for Hoseok to be held back by his body.

Hoseok thinks of the tiramisu. Of walking with you on the beach. Of making your nightime stacks just the way you like it. Of holding you that one time you almost fell into the water. Telling you that you had to be careful. Hoseok remembers driving out in his car, tugging your seatbelt to make sure it fit snug. Standing with you side by side in the flower refrigerators at work and the feeling the first time you’d rubbed your scent gland to his. Every playlist of his with your name on it, every song that you ever shared. All of that- she’s going to destroy all of that if Hoseok doesn’t get to you in time.

He remembers how small she made him feel. How small you were when he first saw you. He won’t let you get that way again. Hoseok won’t let you disappear.

Jungkook is the one who would win this race on any other day, where the stakes any different, but just this once Hoseok is faster. Hurling himself over the concrete as fast as his body will take him. Hoseok cuts through the air like wind.

They run, feet thumping. Bodies thudding, hearts and lungs delivering oxygen to their needy muscles. Beat-up sneakers gripping the concrete. Down and down the stairs, plummeting. Almost tripping and falling on the slippery concrete steps. The doors start to close just as they round the corner.

By some miracle of blood and sweat, Hobi's the one who overtakes Jungkook. The doors are closing and the train's metal shell is beginning to hum and vibrate as it makes to pull away from the tracks.

In a last-ditch effort, Hoseok throws himself in the direction of the closing doors.

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog! Every bit of encouragement helps me write the next chapter!

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

Series Masterlist ~ Donate ~ Twitter

~-~

Do i think that hobi could have actually warned the pack what she was planning to do? Yes. Do I also think that he thought he had more time to warn them and really wanted to sleep off his near death experience? also yes. Namjoon giving him drugs obviously didn't help. i honestly don't think he was thinking clearly.

this is one of those chapters where everything could have gone differently if they'd just been given a little bit more- but i digress- we all know life isn't so neat and tidy.

I can't not write thinking about the angsty alternative ending for bily- but you guys should know the namjoon/m/c scene...if things had gone poorly in this chapter- this would have been the last time they spoke or touched each other for 3 years- for those who are wondering about the alternative ending- i will NOT be posting any of it on AO3. Only on tumblr through asks! i'll try to tag the super triggering stuff but yeah.

when i think of namjoon and the m/c and their relationship- i think that what they want most for each other is to just see the other old and happy like- that becomes the foundation for their relationship. thats why it's namjoon who she thanks. it also doesn't escape me that yoongi is not in this chapter very much- this is intentional. just wait for next chapter and his anger! i swear its so fucking hot my god i really wanted them to fuck in the next chapter but i just don't think it's going to happen.

the og version of this chapter called for jimin parking hobi's car on the tracks and literally letting the train hit it- not derail- but just hit it. just to get it to stop for the m/c however i figured that was going a bit too far.

Me writing any part with jimin in it- "what if i added a bit of religious trauma to it?"

the line where namjoon talks about his hands hurting is like- directly related to me, because my hands didn't hurt all the time before i started writing bily but now my Knuckles hurt almost every morning. After writing for more than an hour they hurt. i guess when you love something enough it hurts you lol i don't mind.

the "you want a lifetime with them" lines are mostly a callback to like...grey's anatomy. namjoon's charecter is LOOOSELY based on mcdreamy of course the whole...neurosurgeon thing and i am 3 seasons into a re-watch so~ you will have to tollerate that cringeworthy refrence~

i've always wanted to structure a chapter around the thud and thump of a heart and yeah!! i think did a few back but i wanted to do it again~

i don't think i was very subtle with the hoseok train station and the train ticket parts of the story like- i think i forshadowed pretty heavily that it was eventually going to be used but! i hope you liked the big reveal.

how did you guys like the cliffhanger? should i spoil it for you when i've always said that bily would get a happy ending????? i mean...come on... we all know hoseok's gonna be fast enough right?

436 notes · View notes

mj0702 · 6 months

Text

The other Bronze – Part 14

For Lunatic... I hope you're doing better and I hope you read this and find some comfort in it - mom and dad love you to the most and back Lunatic ♥️♥️

Sarina parked it just a little bit away from the hotel and turned in her seat to look at you

“We still need to talk Liefje” Sarina said sternly pulling you back into the car

“Don't worry – I found a weak link” you said happily

“Not what I was thinking about but.. good job” the dutch said “.. Leah said you tried to kill yourself – I want to know why”

“Seriously... I swear that was a one time thing and I'm better now” you said upset

“Not what I asked... I want to know WHY” the blonde stayed stricter

“I... I felt so alone... Lucy was gone... Keira just moved to Barcelona.... I mean the girls a great but... they're not Luce or Kei... somehow me stupid brain convinced me that they left and broke up because of me... and that they wouldn't care if I was around or not... so I got some pills from grandmas cabinet and just took them all...” you said not looking at the dutch

“... and then?” Sarina said lowly

“... I got scared... like... I suddenly knew that it was a mistake... so I wanted to call Hempo but I clicked the wrong number... got Leila on the phone.. I didn't knew her very well just in passing – but she came... she asked me where I am after I cried into the phone that I'm scared. I even called her Laurie... you know... she didn't KNOW me – but she came...and before I knew it I threw up... I'm basically still alive because of her... Lei then called Hempo... mills turned from that moment....” you recapped the night it all happened

“But why Liefje.... you know you could always come to me – or to one of us” Sarina tried again to understand you

“I can't tell you why Mama Rina.... I don't know... I just felt so alone... but I swear I never ever thought about it again” you stressed out

“If you EVER feel the need to do something like that again I want you to call me” the blonde took your hand strongly and with her second hand she made you look at her “Okay?”

“Okay... I promise...” you nodded lightly

“Good... so... that weak link....” Sarina smiled slightly

“Now or after dinner? Because I AM kind of hungry” you look embarrassed

Sarina laughed out loud but nodded anyway

“Of course Liefje... come on now” she laughed as the two of you exit the car

The dutch laid her arm around your shoulders pulling you into her side as the two of you walked the short distance to the Hotel. You laid your head on her shoulder enjoying the rare moment of peace you get with the head coach.

“Hey... hey y/n... we saved you a seat!!!!” you heard Tooney before you saw her

“Go” Sarina smiled lovingly as she released you from her hold

You sprinted over to the table quickly sliding into the chair between Less and Tooney before Keira or Leah could grab you. You sat opposite to your girlfriend sending her a small smile knowing Lucy was watching you two with hawk eyes. Suddenly you felt your chair being pulled back a little bit. You squeaked surprised as you felt the chair being lifted.

“You really think I would let you sit at the kids table??” you heard Keira as you looked up you saw Millie and Mary holding the sides of your chair about a foot in the air

“Sorry BB” Millie smiled apologetic “She has dirt on me”

“You can't be serious” you exclaimed trying to slip off the chair

“You will get the same food at my table” Keira said dry as she nodded her head and Millie and Mary started to carry you (chair included) over to the grown up table and dispose you next to your sister while Keira sat down to your other side

“I don't wanna sit here” you whined “This table is boring”

“Excuse me? Do I look like I care? The last time you three sat next to each other you got us kicked out of a restaurant” Keira said nonchalantly

“It was NOT our fault that the flame thingy fell over and set the table on fire” you said upset

“You prodded it the whole time even after I told you to leave it alone” Keira now growled

“I found it fascinating.. the flame was blue” you said ashamed

“Give up Bubs... you stuck with us for tonight” Lucy now sighed “She won't let you go back”

“You can overrule her... sister tops...” you said hopefully

“Oh Bitsy... your sister tops absolutely nothing” Keira smiled sweetly as she lightly slapped your cheek “Now eat”

You looked down on your plate and pulled a disgusted face

“What's that?” you prodded at your food

“Chicken” Keira said as she started to eat

“THAT is not chicken...” you pointed at the light hill on your plate

“That's the rice with sauce” Keira rolled her eyes “That is the chicken” she said as she pushed the rice a little aside

“And that green stuff... I don't do green stuff..” you argued again choosing the difficult route today – she wanted a kid. She'll get a kid.

“Spinach” Leah now answered as her best had her mouth full

“Ew no... not eating that” you huffed leaned back in your chair crossing your arms in front of your chest

“Suit yourself... go to bed hungry” Keira shrugged her shoulders “If you ever THINK of throwing a fit later because you're hungry you and I will have a private talk and you know these never end good for you”

“I want food... not... that” you pouted and whined

“Bitsy come on... you're not three... just eat” Keira said and you heard that she's about to lose her last nerve with you

Still you shake your head not moving towards the plate again

“Bubs come on... you haven't eaten since breakfast” Lucy now tried the nice approach – good cop, bad cop “You must be hungry”

“I AM... but I want something tasty” you whined

“It's very tasty... just try it... for me?” your sister spoke softly smiling hopefully.

“Hey Pumpkin... you interested in a deal?” now Beth interrupted the interaction knowing how important it was to get some food into you

“Listening” you answered and glanced at her

“Two forks equals one stroopwaffle... if you finish your plate – spinach included a whole extra pack” Meado smiled encouraging

“One fork one waffle” you shot back

“No can do... two for one...” Beth leaned back in her chair grinning

“Two extras at final whistle then” you tried your luck again

“I'll give you two extras if you eat your salad too” the brown haired woman smirked

“Okay now you're pushing it” you huffed out

“Two for one and an extra if you finish the plate” Meado leaned forward extending her hand.

“Two extras” you said seriously

“Nope... no deal” Beth said as she pulled her hand back

“Okay okay... two for one and one extra” you said quickly nearly jumping on the table to grab Beth hand “but from the good shop in Amsterdam”

“Deal” Meado grinned as she saw Keira mouthing a “thank you” towards her

You recutlanty started to pick up some rice and chicken with your fork. Everyone at the table knew you were a picky eater. Always have been and always will be – but if you had found something you liked you would eat like a harvester. But also you would go days without actual food if there was nothing you would find interesting. You carefully brought the fork to your lips just to feel the usual knot in your stomach putting the silverware down quickly

“No... sorry... can't do it” you said as you quickly stood up basically fleeing the table and the room.

Everyone looked after you confused. The first one who reacted was in fact Georgia as she pushed her chair back with such a force that it fell over backwards running after you. Lucy tried to run after the two of you but got stopped by Keiras hand on her arm

“Leave them...” the blonde said softly

“But what if...” Lucy tried

“If what...” Leah asked now

“If G takes advantage of her state – we know how fragile she is at the moment” your sister said a little stressed

“Excuse me?” Keira said shocked “That's G we're talking about – you know damn well this girl has a heart of gold and as big as five field... and she's not the brightest sometimes... she doesn't even know what it means to take advantage of someone”

“I'm just....” your sister defended herself

“I know... but you need to let her grow up... it's not easy for me either but let her be Luce” Keira said softly

You quickly sprinted outside the hotel actually jumping over some luggage which was standing around from guests just checking in. Once outside you looked around frantically as you saw the next best bush. You quickly got over there and just started to throw up. This was how your girlfriend found you. Hunched over a bush heaving loudly. Wordless she stood next to you rubbing small soothing circles on your back offering silent support. After a few minutes you got yourself up right again and leaned backwards against the wall

“What happened” G asked keeping her voice down

“Just got too much” you mumbled closing your eyes “Thank you”

“For what?” Georgia asked confused

“Coming after me...” you murmured suddenly feeling tired and exhausted

“I'll always come after you – and if I have to run to the end of the world” your girlfriend answered whispering as she both manoeuvred you into a sitting position

“Sap” you smiled with your eyes closed but leaning against her “We probably shouldn't be so close – what if fans see?”

“Let them... don't care” your girlfriend mumbled back “only care about you right now”

“You would...” you started

“Don't care... you're important to me, you know?” she interrupted you quickly knowing where this conversation would go if she'd let you go on

“You're important to me too G...” you said serious “... that's why we need to talk”

“Are you breaking up with me?” Georgia asked and you heard the panic in her voice

“No... no... but you might want to break up with me after that talk” you mumbled

“Did... did something happened... with someone... in Barcelona?” your girlfriend asked unsure

“Yes... that too... but not like you think” you sighed knowing you can't push that conversation further away anymore “But you need to promise me to let me finish and not interrupt me”

“Okay...” Georgia said carefully

You took a deep breath before you started to talk

“I'm telling you this because you are so SO important to me – not even Kei knows this... or god forbid Lucy... did I ever tell you why Leila and I are so close?” you looked at her and G shook her head before you continued “She saved me G... literally... she saved my life... two years ago, when Kei moved to Spain too... I felt so alone... I know Toons was there... and Less... and Leah... and all of them... but in the same time no one was there... it was bad enough to lose Lucy to Spain.. But I still had Keira... but when she moved too – it broke me G... I know she had to for her career... and I would never ever blame her for what happened but it broke me. I had no one to go to – I was still laborating on my ACL and I didn't know what to do. I fell G and I fell hard. I was rock bottom and I didn't know how to get back on top again...” you started to feel the tears threatening to fall “... so I got all the pills my mom had in her cabinet threw them all in a bag mixed them up and just took a handful... and suddenly I got so SO scared... the sensible part of my brain asked me if I'm bloody serious to choose the easy way out. Out of panic I wanted to call Hempo of all people – you know how she would react in a situation like that. She would panic herself. But she was the nearest to where I was. I pressed the wrong contact and Leila answered the call. Don't know why but she did. I didn't even realized my mistake and just started sobbing into the phone what I just did and that I'm scared and where I am and to please help me”

You were full on crying now. Not the loud outgoing cry, just silently as your tears run down your cheeks onto falling onto your shirt

“I don't know how much time went past but suddenly I got yanked up from the bench I was sitting on and the person just bend me over and made me throw up.... wasn't the nicest thing in the world. After I came by a little more I realized Leila was the one holding me bend over asking me if I think that it was all of it or if there's some left in my stomach because she WILL shove her fingers down my throat again if she had to... told her I think that everything is out and she basically carried me to her car. She told me she's going to get me into hospital and who she should call. Told her Hempo – I knew the chain would work its way to Leah. Leila got me to the Hospital told them what happened and they took care of me. When I woke up the next morning Leah and Meado were sitting next to my bed. Leah looked like death heated over twice. Meado wasn't far behind. I felt so guilty that I started crying . Woke them both up with my sobbing. Leah informed me that they'll take me back with them – already talked to my mom and dad about it. She also told me that they told them it's because she thinks a change of scenery would benefit me – dad agreed knowing how hard I took Lucys moving. Went back to London with them and god – Leah can be worse than a jail guard... I went to therapy... three times a week... it was always Leah or Beth picking me up afterwards... until it was Millie and somehow with Millie I just broke down. I held it together for Lee and Meado... but Millie with her calm persona and just being there – I think I cried for hours. Woke up in Meados guestroom... was the first time I met Viv officially as the girlfriend. It got better after that day – really better. Leah basically held me hostage for another six month – she even made me join her at the Arsefacility for light workouts. Let me tell you they have all that great stuff in their gym and still are shit” you smiled through your tears keeping your eyes fixed straight ahead staring into nothing so you didn't see your girlfriend crying too “ … and then a few days in Barcelona I had a full blown anxiety attack because Mapí played a ball wrong and it came at me. I got it under control played it back to Kei before even realizing what I was doing and then all of them were looking at me like I just scored a World cup winner... got to much and everyone of them saw.. I tell you because I know Sarina wants a friendly against Spain end to camp – when she announces it you act surprised – and they will ask if everything is okay... because that's how they are... It was weird at the begin...”

Suddenly your conversation got roughly interrupted by your sister who pulled G up by her shirt away from you already started yelling at her. You got scared for a second before you quickly jumped to your feet going after your sister who had your girlfriend pinned to the wall by now. Georgia was white her eyes wide as Lucy kept yelling at her

“What have you done Stanway??? I listened to Keira and let YOU go after her to find her crying her eyes out” your sister yelled in Georgias face pushing her harder against the wall

“Lucy please... it wasn't her” you begged your sister tugging on her arm “it wasn't her and it's not because of her... Luce please”

But it was no use since Lucy just saw red. She just came out to check on you knowing you always need air when you feel trapped. What she saw broke her heart and made her blood boil. She saw you crying and your girlfriend just sitting next to you doing nothing. It was irrational she knew but she swore to protect you and if it costed it the place on the national team than she would pay that price but she won't let anyone hurt you.

“Lucy.... please” you tried again as fresh tears sprung to your eyes and again your plea fell to deaf ears as your sister continued to ignore you in favor of yelling at your girlfriend

So you looked around for help and spotted Keira and Leah at the elevators on the other side of the lobby. You quickly ran over to the doors who opened and yelled through the hotel lobby

“Keira!!!” you hoped to get her attention. Your voice must have sounded so distressed that Keira turned around quickly – Leah following suit and she spotted you standing in the automatic door “Help” you said louder but not yelling level.

Keira took off towards you before you could turn around Leah hot on her heels as you went over and tried to get Lucy off Georgia again. Keira and Leah came exit the hotel and quickly saw what brought you to such distress. They immediately got into action mode pushing themselves between Lucy and Gs bodies. You were still trying to tug your sisters arm off Georgias shirt. Thank god Keira and Leah were much more successful (perks of knowing how to separate players from experience) and quickly got your sister and girlfriend separated. You immediately went over to your girlfriend who was still rooted in place shock and fright clear on her face.

“You okay?” you asked lowly “She didn't hurt you did she?”

“Just shaken up... didn't see that coming” Georgia said back lightly shaking

You let Keira and Leah deal with Lucy while you checked your girlfriend over once more needing to make sure she really was not injured. After you were satisfied with your check you turned around seeing Keira poking Lucys chest furiously on the other side of the entrance. Leah stood nearly in the middle of the two parties having an eye on both sides. She met your eye and you let her know that everything was okay and even tho G was shaken up she was not injured. At the way Keira was now waving her hands around and your sister looking ashamed and guilty you knew Kei was pissed and Lucy was at the receiving end. You saw Leah coming over to you and stepped into your field of vision

“Are you okay?” the captain asked concerned

“Yeah... just... got a little scared... don't know what got into her” you mumbled

“Keira is sorting it out right now” Leah said lowly “You okay G?”

“Yeah...” your girlfriend nodded slightly

“You want to report it to Sarina? Or want me to tell her?” Leah asked seriously “You're calling it G... I don't know what happened but I know you didn't provoke her so Lucy laying her hands on you...”

“No...” your girlfriend interrupted her friend “... I just want to talk to her... alone”

“Are you sure G?” Leah asked again

“Yes I'm sure...” Georgia nodded again “... I don't want her thrown of the team Lee... I just want to know why”

“Your call G...” Leah sighed and called over “Kei... lets go” before looking at you “You come with us”

“Da Fuck I will” you said stubborn

“Babe it's okay... let me sort this out okay...” your girlfriend said calmly

“I swear Lucy... if you even as much as look at her the wrong way I will end you” you sneered as you passed your sister getting pulled along by Leah

You don't know how much time passed as you watched through the big glass windows as your girlfriend and sister having a talk outside the hotel with you inside the lobby

“Calm down Bitsy...” Keira said as she pulled you into her side “... G's a big girl... she can handle it”

“I know... but Kei... Luce basically attacked her with no reason” you huffed but let Keira comfort you a little bit

“I know it sounds like a cheap excuse but... she just got scared about your well-being... I KNOW you are also a big girl Bitsy... but you'll always be her little girl... she's trying Bitsy... but seeing you cry made her snap” the blonde mumbled as she pulled you closer

“But it wasn't because of G... I told her what happened in Barcelona and I couldn't stop the tears... G had nothing to do with it” you said as fresh tears starting to form in your eyes “and she didn't listen... Lucy didn't listen to me... I can't do this Kei... I can't have my sister and my girlfriend fighting... or my sister fighting my girlfriend – she needs to stop”

“She will Bitsy... it just takes some time for her to come to terms with it... she's not good with change either – where do you think you got it from?” Keira smiled slightly

After what seemed like forever in your mind you got surprised as you saw your sister and girlfriend hugging. Not an awkward hug. It was a full on bear hug. Like the hugs you only accept from a few people in your life – full of love and unspoken promises. You watched as they parted again but Lucy kept her arm around Gs shoulders as they walked back into the lobby stopping right in front of Keira and you

“You two dating now?” you asked raising an eyebrow

“Yeah about that babe...” Georgia smirked playing along

“It's fine... I'll just take your best friend then...” you waved off starting to grin

“Does Leah know about this?” Keira now asked faking confusion

“Not talking about Leah” you smirked as you pressed yourself further into the blonde

“That... looks so wrong” Lucy looked horrified

“YOU asked me if it was Keira!!” you exclaimed accusingly

“and THAT was a genuine mistake...” your sister defended herself quickly “... but you made it looked like it was!”

“I was just wearing her shorts!!!” you bantered back

“What in our world means that you're basically engaged!!!” Luce fired back

“Where's my ring?” you turned to Keira expectantly raising your eyebrow again

“EXCUSE ME?!” Georgia exclaimed fake shocked “You're engaged and making moves on me?? Keira I swear I didn't know”

“Meeh... it's alright G... thought I give her the chance to get it out of her system before tying her down... because that's over then... and she was drooling over you for a long time” Keira waved off before all of you bursted out laughing

“Luce...” you said getting serious again “... you can't do that... you can't freak out like that again”

“I know... I'm sorry Bubs... It's just...” your sister tried to explain but couldn't find the right words so Keira helped her out

“It's not easy for us Bitsy... we love you so much and even if we KNOW that G would never ever hurt you – seeing you cry is hard for us” the blonde said as she started to scratch the back of your neck lightly “.... we went through so much together that we just want to protect you – and again... we know that that one wouldn't hurt you on purpose but still... seeing you crying and in distress just flips a switch... the difference is that I have WAY more self-control than your sister” Keira explained quietly

“I'll never hurt her I promise” G said quickly her eyes wide

“I know G... I know you'll never hurt her on purpose but there will be hurt... because that's how a relationship works – it's not always sunshine and rainbows... you both have to work for it and you have to communicate” Keira said serious “We'll always be there to support you and if you want give advice – you're both young and we know what it's like to be separated for some time...”

“Thanks Kei” you mumbled into her shoulder

“Always Bitsy...” she smiled as she pressed a kiss to your forehead “And G”

“Yeah?” your girlfriend asked weary

“For god sakes... grow some balls and defend your girl” Keira said sternly “Lucy can take some bollocking – because that will be something she has to deal with when we're back in Spain anyway”

“I have to what?” your sister asked horrified knowing Keira doesn't fuck about

“We'll have a talk when we're back... just you and me... in private” the blonde informed your sister who shrunk back a little under the intense stare of her ex-girlfriend

“Uuuuhhh... someone is in troooouuuble” you sing-songed snickering

“You want to be added to the list?” Keira raised her eyebrow looking down at you

“Yeah no thank you” you quickly said sheepishly

“Thought so... now off you go... it's late and it was an eventful day – I can see and feel the exhaustion from you” the blonde scoffed before pushing you off her slightly

“Luce” you whined and your sister immediately turned around to give you a piggy back ride

You unceremoniously climbed on her back letting her carry you to the elevator getting you to your room while Keira and G stayed behind

“I'm sorry for what happened G” Keira started

“It's okay Kei...” Georgia waved off

“No it's not G... it's not okay what Lucy did” the blonde interrupted her best friend quickly “... she shouldn't have reacted that way... and I promise you it'll never happen again I make sure of it... but I want you to understand that Bitsy is her everything – Lucy wouldn't think twice to jump in front of a truck for her... both of us wouldn't think twice but Lucy would be quicker. She went through so much and never actually talked about it or grieved you know – when she got the news of it being her ACL again and this time she's forced to stop playing... she just... sat there” Keira said remembering the day as if it happened yesterday “... she just sat there – 13 years old... blank face... shrugging her shoulders – Lucy and I kept it together until we were home and then first Lucy broke and then me... but her... she just – I don't want to say accepted it but she just bottled it up... she lost her spark that day – and slowly it's coming back... you are the reason for that G... you don't know it but you help her heal more than Lucy and I could in the last three years”

“I... didn't do anything” your girlfriend said confused

“You treat her right G... and that's enough for her” Keira smiled slightly

“I nearly didn't... you know... if it wasn't for her stubbornness” Georgia admitted shyly

“What do you mean? And yes... everyone with the name Bronze is stubborn as fuck” the blonde said rolling her eyes

“She kissed me you know... after the Euros... I was... drunk... but sober enough to kinda realize what’s happening... I pulled her outside the locker room and told her this can't happen..” your girlfriend explained to her best friend “... I told her she's too young and this isn't what she wants... she told me she may be young but she definitely knows what she wants... and that's me... she was so adamant... but I pushed her away a few time... until she showed up at me apartment in Munich – god only knows where she got the info from where I live – and just TOLD me that she won't accept me saying “no” anymore and she'll definitely won't let me run away and hide anymore... my whole self-control broke that moment....”

“So you did have sex with her before her birthday... because that's what she told Luce... that you waited till her birthday” Keira questioned

“No... god no... I didn't touch her that way before her birthday... I swear Kei... I mean there were some moments where it nearly got to that point but I stopped... I SWEAR K...” Georgia said quickly

“G... even if you did have sex with her before... it's in the past and nothing can change it... I know how the Bronze women can be... once they have something set their mind on it takes an army to get them to get them off the rails... it doesn't matter if it's Lucy or Bitsy or Sophie or Diane...” Keira smiled “... you will experience that in future a few times – and I wish you good luck and already feel sorry for you at the same time... but what Luce did earlier is still not okay”

“We talked it out K... I swear it's okay... she promised to hold back” your girlfriend assured

“You could talk to Sarina...” Keira said but this time Georgia interrupted her

“No... she apologized we talked it out... done and dusted... I understand her Kei... I really do... because if I see someone making me girlfriend cry I would snap too” your girlfriend waved off

“Great...” Keira mumbled “... another one I have to keep an eye on... the next time I get asked what I would do if I don't play professionally football anymore I say “zookeeper”... got plenty of experience in keeping wild animals under control”

Georgia burst out laughing and offered her best friend her hand to pull her off the couch. Keira accepted the hand gladly and let G pull her into a standing position.

“You're getting old Walsh” Georgia teased when Keira groaned getting pulled into an upright position

“No... I'm just over the whole shite” Keira grumbled as she turned around to leave

“Love you Walsh” G yelled after her

“Love you Stanway” Keira yelled back making Georgia smile

Lucy noticed you were asleep before you two even made it to your room. The way your head slowly sank deeper onto her shoulder was a clear indicator – as well as your light snoring and the occasional smacking of your lips. Your sister “knocked” on the door using her foot adjusting her hold on you. LJ opened annoyed but perked up immediately when she saw Lucy

“Yeah?” LJ asked

“Just here to deliver Bubs...” Lucy said being a little icy towards the younger player

“Oh... okay” LJ said stepping aside letting Lucy in

Your sister disposed you carefully and with practical ease on the bed and started to pull your socks and trousers off your legs

“She's 16... I think she's capable of undressing herself” LJ bit a little too harsh which caused Lucy to narrow her eyes at her teammate

“I am aware... but I also know her... look LJ... I don't know what your twos problem is but when it comes down to it – she's my baby sister... and whoever hurts her better makes his last will because I won't have it...” Lucy said seriously as she made sure your scars were covered quickly

“Lucy... I know that okay... and yes we're not really friends anymore” LJ started and Lucy snorted “... but I think we can be civil with each other.. I mean you and me know she swapped my cleats and I did nothing to her did I now”

“I really like you as a person and a player LJ...” Lucy sighed before pressing a kiss to your head “... but again.. she's my baby sister”

“We will figure it out” LJ said and if you weren't asleep you would've bursted out laughing – because from your side there was no “figuring it out”

“Morning” you greeted Meado at the elevators the next morning

“Morning pumpkin” Beth greeted back giving you a once over “You okay?”

“Gettin there... need coffee” you said slowly clearly still half asleep as you felt Meado putting her arm over your shoulders pulling you into her side

“Pumpkin I know you don't want to hear it but I need you to eat something too okay... I know you can go longer than 24 without food but it's not healthy” Beth said a little concern in her voice.

She as well haven't forgotten what happened two years ago. How Leah called her full on sobbing that she needs to get to Manchester as quick as possible but she can't go on her own because she probably would crash the car. Of course Beth immediately was on board picking Leah up not even 15 Minutes later. Leah was an emotional mess. Meado actually didn't find out what happened until there were about 30 Minutes out of Manchester. And when Leah finally told her – Beth nearly lost control over the car. So yes – your well-being also was important to her.

“Yeah I know... yesterday was just...” you started ashamed

“... emotional... I know...” Meado finished for you smiling slightly

“Morning” you heard suddenly as Keira stood behind the two of you

“Morning Kei” Meado said happily while you just grunt in response

“Come here Bitsy” Keira said lovingly opening her arms knowing you always need longer and more importantly physical contact in the mornings

The elevator arrived and all three of you entered it to go down to breakfast. One floor down Millie and Rach entered the elevator and you immediately whined for Millie to carry you. As usual you had everyone wrapped around your finger and so it happened that you got carried to the breakfast room where surprisingly Sarina waited for you with a coffee in your hand

“We need to talk, Liefje” the dutch said you still clutched to Millies back pushing the mug into your hands “So ex that and with me”

“What did you do to make the big boss angry?” Millie asked confused as she set you down looking after Sarina who was just leaving

“You're guess is as good as mine” you shrugged your shoulders downing the coffee shuffling after the dutch into an empty meeting room

“What can I do for you great masteress of lionesses?” you tried to lighten the mood

“What happened yesterday?” Sarina came straight to the point looking at you expectantly

“Huh?” you looked at her confused

“Why were two of my best players at each other throats AGAIN yesterday after dinner?” the dutch said and you knew not to fuck about

“There was a misunderstanding” you said carefully

“Elaborate” Sarina said seriously and you noticed she's getting angry

“I told G about what happened... two years ago... and in Barcelona... because I wanted to be honest with her... I started crying... I didn't even noticed I was crying... and suddenly Lucy was there having a go at G... but Kei and Leah took care of it” you spilled immediately trying to low the blow

“Okay... okay...” the dutch sighed out massaging her temples

“I didn't mean too” you said quickly feeling incredibly guilty

“It's not your fault... but I need to talk to both of them... this can't go on” Sarina said seriously “I can't have my squad fighting each other”

“I know” you sighed ashamed “... I don't know what's going on with Lucy... because G did nothing and Luce is constantly out for her...”

“Your sister is protective, Liefje” Sarina said softly “And it's hard for her to see you dating”

“But... I'm not a baby anymore” you said desperately

“Liefje... you were with her your whole life – there were rumours that you are her daughter instead of her sister” the dutch chuckled

“Ugh” you gagged slightly

“I want something else from you” Sarina now leaned against the big table

“Ehrm... I feel honoured but... Ehrm... you are a little to... experienced for me Mama Rina” you stuttered scratching the back of your neck

“Dear god kiddo... it's not all about sex in life...” the dutch rolled her eyes “... I want you to come up with a exercise for training – teamwork and communication”

“Why are you including me so much...” you asked a little confused

“Because I know how great you can be – you always sell yourself short... I want you to realize how amazing you are and live it” Sarina said softly “... and I want to inform you that we indeed have a friendly against Spain in 10 days”

“Yes... I really want to face them” you said happily “... I really want Less and Toons to meet Mapí”

“Liefje... I will put you on a leash you if you plan on doing something stupid” the dutch pointed her finger at you

“I just want to.... cultivate international relations...” you said carefully

“You want to cause trouble – I will talk to Lucy about your harness... what was the name?” Sarina waved off

“Bronzo” you murmured defeated

“Ah yes... now... I want you to come up with an exercise and a strategy for the game against Spain” the dutch said and you know your little “meeting” was over

“Yes Mama Rina” you sighed already thinking about different drills

“Oh and y/n?” Sarina held you back as you were about to leave

“Yes?” you looked up a little shocked

“Send your sister and girlfriend in” the dutch smirked and winked at you

“Will do” you smiled widely “With pleasure”

“BRONZE!!! STANWAY!!” you yelled when you entered the breakfast room and all heads snap towards you

“Big Bossies wants to talk to you” you nodded towards the meeting room

Both your sisters and your girlfriends face went white as they stood up walking slowly past you with Georgia stopping shortly

“Are we out?” G whispered lowly

“Don't think so... but I can't say for sure” you whispered back grabbing her hand and squeezing it encouraging

“If that's the case I'll still be around – we can invade Leahs apartment” Georgia smiled lightly but you saw right through it

“She won't kick you out.. she'll kick your ass and that's it... she knows it's not you who causes trouble... it's Luce” you leaned up quickly pressing a kiss to your girlfriends cheek

“STANWAY!!” now Sarina yelled down the corridor

Georgia quickly let go of your hand and ran down the corridor.

“They're in trouble?” Keira asked you as you plopped down in the chair next to her inspecting Keiras plate who immediately pushed it towards you

“Yeah.... somehow Sarina knows about yesterday” you mumbled “... hey Kei?”

“Yes Bitsy?” the blonde smiled at you

“Can I have eggs?” you asked embarrassed

“Of course Bitsy.. why do you ask?” Keira looked at you confused

“Don't know.... just feel like it” you shrugged your shoulders

“Come on Bits... let's get you some breeki hm?” the blonde smiled encouraging and pulled you out of your chair leading you over to the buffet

“Take whatever you want Bitsy.... just... don't load your plate Bronze style” Keira smiled as you went over all the option

“Eggs... bacon...” you mumbled to yourself

“Something healthy” Keira threw in

“Guac....” you mumbled deep in thoughts “Uuuuhhh.... donuts”

“No” Keira smiled sweetly

“But” you whined childish

“No Bitsy... take some fruit and we're good” the blonde grinned

“But you said whatever I want” you whined again

“No donuts... you didn't do anything today what would justify a donut” Keira said and you knew you lost the donut for good

You sighed heavy and took an apple from the fruit basket

“Uuuuhhh... mom put her foot down” Rachel laughed as you passed they're table

Keira pushed you to walk on when she noticed you wanted to start arguing with the blonde and lead you back to your table. After you sat down you looked down on your plate with the apple next to it. You picked up the apple looked at it for a second before throwing it towards Rachel hitting her straight in the back of the head which caused the whole table (especially Millie) to interrupt in loud laughter and Rachel to swear loudly. Keira scolded you lightly but smiled nonetheless

Lucy, Georgia and Sarina entered the room. The two players looked like drowned puppies while the Head coach smiled satisfied. Georgia immediately took a detour towards Tooneys and Less table which caused you to frown. Lucy sat down opposite to you and you watched her closely

“All good?” you asked

“All good” your sister answered before continuing to eat

“Okay Girls... this was a really good training so far” Sarina yelled over the field clapping her hands

“Our new addition here” she pulled you next to and in to a hug “will have the honour for the last exercise of the day”

All Lionesses looked at you expectantly and you suddenly felt a little shy

“I didn't agree to your offer” you mumbled shyly

“You will” Sarina smiled happily “I'm pretty positive about it – now go and show them what you got”

“Okay Ladies... and Lucy” you said loudly grinning after the little pep talk

“Hey!!” your sister exclaimed annoyed as the team began to chuckle

“Listen up... we're playing Hungry Hippo” you clapped your hands and Rachel “woohooed” loudly

“For everyone who doesn't know Hungry Hippo... it's simple... teams of three each... every team gets four balls... you have to defend your balls and also have to steal the balls of the other teams... team who is out of eggs first runs laps until the game is over” you explained quickly

“What's the goal of the game?” Niamh asked

“Goal of the game is to get all the balls in one “nest”... the goal of the exercise is teamwork and communication... you need to work together and communicate with each other” you explained “And before you ask... I put the teams together”

“Aaaawww maaaaan” you heard Less groan

“Walsh, Stanway, James” you rattled off ignoring one of your best friends

“Russo, Williamson, Toone” you smirked knowing you just got Leah back for the rooming incident

“WHAT??” the capitan exclaimed shocked

“YES!!” Tooney and Less high-fived

“Daly, Bright, Mearps” you continued and split all the players into teams

“Really?” Sarina asked under her breath but loud enough that you could hear her “Walsh, Stanway and James?”

“Kei and G are pissed at James – rightfully so but still need to learn to keep it off the pitch” you mumbled back

“Genius move – I need you in my team” Sarina smiled

“And you will.. I want Jill Scott as my guardian” you said off handy

“Done” the dutch answered quickly and smiled widely

“And we will talk about numbers... I want a good salary” you smirked at her

“You haven't even seen the contract and already start hackling?” Sarina laughed

“I saw Lucys contracts over the years... they were shit..” you pointed out

“We'll talk about it later... now let them run” the blonde dutch smiled and you grabbed her whistle successfully pulling the short woman closer to you and blew that whistle hard

Immediately there interrupted chaos on the field and you couldn't help but laugh loudly when Lucy rugby tackled Rachel to the ground who tried to steal a ball from your sisters nest. The little game continued for some while – for a hot second it looked like Keiras team was loosing since they did everything than communicating with each other but the recovered quickly and got some balls back. You also saw how different the teams approach their tactics to defend and retrieve. Team Bright for example had Mearps AND Bright on defending egg duty while Rach zipped around stealing balls. Lucys team had only Lucy for defence and Lotte and Meado for retrieval. It was honestly too funny and you turned around to the media team

“Oi edits.... get some footage of that... fans will love it” you laughed as they quickly scramble to get some of the chaos on video

“Hey.... hey you” you shouted over to a guy who stood there a little lost and when he turned towards you you waved him over

“What's your job here?” you asked but still keeping an eye on the field

“I'm... a trainee” the dirty blonde said shyly

“Okay... perfect... go get coffee for the big boss and myself.... she takes it black like her soul – strong... basically like oil... I want a latte” you said smiling

“Where do I find coffee?” the young bloke said getting even more shy

“In the meeting rooms should be coffee machines.... just... take some from there” you looked a little unsure yourself “Oh... and what's your name?”

“Finney... friends call me Finn” he now smiled getting a little more comfortable talking to you

“Yeah no.... I'll just call you Fren... we're Frens now” you waved off “everyone who brings me coffee is a Fren”

“Okay... I promise I bring the best coffee I can find” he smiled before sprinting off

“Already abusing your status I see” Sarina smirked next to you

“Don't tell me you had enough time this morning to actually fulfil your caffeine fix” you said rolling your eyes

“Of course I didn't... I had to put your sister and girlfriend through the wringer AND put them on probation.... I was THIS close to put them on the naughty step” the dutch mumbled annoyed

“I would have paid to see that” you bursted out laughing “OI STANWAY.... STOP PULLING LOTTES PANTS DOWN!!!!”

“JEALOUS???” Lotte yelled back holding onto her shorts for dear life with Georgia hanging on the hem of them shorts trying to pull them down once again

“Not at all” you yelled back laughing at their antics “She already knows how comfortable the couch is...”

You saw a few seconds later how team “Two best idiots + Leah” lost their last ball and you grabbed Sarinas whistle (and Sarina) again whistling loudly. All Lionesses froze in their place and you grinned

“I really enjoy this” you said loudly smirking evilly “... Capitan oh Capitan....” you said dramatically “... your team is the first loosing all their Hippo eggs... so... you and your mates.... off you scramble... laps until the game is over”

“You can't do that” Leah growled knowing fully well you actually can make her run

“Oh but I can... I said beforehand the first team without Hippo eggs will run laps, Williamson” you smirked enjoying having the upper hand for once extremly “... sooooo... run”

Less and Tooney already jogging away from you knowing they wouldn't get out of it anyway so they just accepted their fate. Leah on the other hand was adamant to prove a point now looking at Sarina

“She can't do that” Leah said sounding a little like a small child

“She can... I gave her the task of finding a exercise for teamwork and communication – which she did – and I authorized it.... she said before you all started what will happen and you lost.... get going Leah...” Sarina said calmly knowing when to back you up and when you can defend yourself

Leah started to jog away still mumbling and growling under her breath

“Thank you Mama Rina...” you mumbled as you accepted your coffee from Finn

“No need Liefje... you were in the right and just because Leah wants to pull the capitan card doesn't mean she can do that all the time” the dutch said softly also accepting her coffee from the young lad.

The leftover players on the field were still looking at you expectantly and you realized you didn't restart the game

“Sorry guys” you smiled embarrassed

“Wait...” Grace (Clinton) said quickly before you were able to blew the whistle again

“Yeah Hillary?” you looked at her smirking

“First... please don't....” she sighed “second... what does the winner get?”

“Oh... winner gets the afternoon off – and gets a cheat meal extra” you smiled shrugging your shoulders

“Excuse me?? I didn't agree to that” Sarina exclaimed surprised

“Yeah well... I just thought of that” you looked at her apologetic

“The things I let slide with you” the dutch rolled her eyes and waved her hand for you to continue

“Love you Mama Rina” you smiled pressing a soft kiss to her cheek

“Yeah yeah” the blonde murmured but a smile tugged on the edge of her lips

You blew the whistle again and immediately there interrupted chaos again – the game ended with a tie (you were made to stop it by Sarina) between Team Walsh and Team Bronze. Which surprised everyone – especially you but you did internally congratulate yourself for fulfilling the task of brining the team closer together.

The Bus ride was mostly quiet except for Georgia and Esme (who was on Lucys team) discussing rather loudly what they would have as their cheat meal with Rachel throwing in Gs direction

“Little Bronze doesn't count you know... you can eat her as much as you like” the blonde smirked and immediately got Lucys dirty sock thrown in her face while you bursted out laughing next to Mearps and Georgia turning fire red once again. Back at the Hotel everyone went to their rooms to shower and get ready for Lunch and eventual media assignments. Lunch went over without a hitch – if you ignore the fact that your sister shooed your girlfriend away again – and soon all of you got the plan for the rest of the day.

You entered the room which was officially dubbed the “common get together”-room finding Lucy, Keira, Mary, Less, Tooney, Niamh, Meado and LJ (who you honestly could do without) chilling around. Some of them were lounging on the couch while Tooney, Less and Niamh were placed at the table playing with some Legos. You made a beeline for your two bestest friends as Keira looked up from her book

“No” the blonde just said knowing letting you sit with them would end up in a Lego fight and you'd throw pieces at each other until one got either hurt or cried

“Keira cooooome ooooon” you whined which caused Tooney and Less to look up

“Yeah Keira... cooooome ooooon” Tooney whined too

“Come here Bubs” Lucy said from her place on the couch stretched her hand towards you trying to get you to come over to her “Wanna show you something”

“You can always show it to LJ” you pulled a face and your voice was laced with venom

“Huh?” your sister looked at you confused as you turned around now marching towards Tooney like you were on a mission

“Bitsy” Keira warned you raising her eyebrow in challenge

“I'm just gonna sit here” you said annoyed and the blonde noticed your grumpy mood

“No Lego fights!” the blonde looked at you threating

“Okay mom” the three of you answered simultaneously grinning

Soon after Less got called away by the media team for some... whatever, you didn't pay attention. Tooney and you continued to build on your Lego castle but as usual after like 30 minutes you both got bored

You just looked at each other communicating without words – like always. You both stood up at the same time looking around until your eyes fell on the dart board that was hung up on the other side of the room. Tooney and you tried to be as sneaky as possible as you slandered over to said piece of fun without noticing Keira watching every step you took. Just as you were about to pull the third dart out of the board so Toons and you could play a hand reached over your shoulder taking all darts away

“I told you... no sharp objects” you immediately reconized the voice of one Keira Walsh

“They're not sharp...” you pouted as you turned around to look at her with your best puppy eye look

“No pointy objects either” Keira smiled sweetly and you knew it was fake as fuck

“But... Tooney and I wanted to play” you pouted

“Tooney is banned from pointy objects too” the blonde just said hoping to end this topic

“Tooney is what?” Ella said confused

“The last time you whined for a WEEK that your finger nearly fell off” Keira rolled her eyes “So no darts for you either... find something else”

“Oh yeah.. I forgot about that... it was really close for me finger to fall off” Tooney said as she remembered her last interaction with darts

“Your bloody finger was fine” you exclaimed

“Bloody... that's the word you should emphasize... so much blood” Ella sighed

“Less nearly broke my nose.... THAT was bloody... your finger was just... trickling blood” you said upset

“If you don't stop to one up each other immediately I'm going to put you in different corners of the room” Keira interrupted your “fight”

“Sorry mom” both of you said

“Gosh... can't you two play nicely with each other for once?” the blonde rolled her eyes

“We tried... you wouldn't allow it” you tried to reason with her

“No sharp or pointy objects” Keira said again “Find something else”

You looked over at Tooney who just shrugged her shoulders

“Uh... there's a bowling thing in the basement... can we go bowling? Nothing sharp, nothing pointy” you said excited as Tooney started to beam

“Not without a responsible adult around” Keira said “And I'm not going down there with you”

“Millie and Rach are down there... I think” you said as you tried to convince Kei

“Lucy?” the blonde turned around to your sister

“Yeah?” Lucy looked up from her phone where she (most likely) texted with Ona

“I just spoke english did I?” Keira asked her ex

“Ehrm... yes? Why?” your sister asked confused

“Good... I just thought I switched to spanish without noticing it when I said them two nobbheads won't go bowling in the basement without a responsible adult and Bitsys answer was Millie and Rachel... I just wanted to double check that I in fact did use the english language” the blonde said and you groaned behind her knowing she just shut down your idea

“Oh no... you definitely spoke english” Lucy smirked

“Mary??” you asked hopefully looking at the keeper

“Yeah okay...” the tall brunette rolled her eyes but smiled noneless “I'll take you bowling”

“YES!!” you high fived Tooney “Mary counts as responsible, right?” you checked with Keira

“Yes... Mary counts as responsible” the blonde sighed actually hoping you'd find no body who would go with you so she could keep an eye on you

“Woohoo...” you cheered chasing after Tooney who already was sprinting towards the door

“No running” Mary yelled after you but it was no use as she stood up following the two of you

“I'll give them 20 Minutes” Keira said plopping down next to Lucy on the couch

“Naah... Mearps is good... Bubs respects Mearps.... 30” your sister grinned as she started a timer

32 Minutes later the door of the common room got kicked open and Mary carried you bridal style inside to cross the room with quick strides. Tooney was following after you apologizing profusely while you whined into Marys neck

“32 Minutes and 17 seconds” Lucy looked down on her phone grinning stopping the timer showing it to Keira

“Should we follow or just ignore that something went horribly wrong... as always when these two are left to their own?” the blonde sighed looking expectantly at Lucy

“Naah... she has Mearps with her...” your sister waved off smirking knowing you'll throw an absolute fit once one of the physios wants to touch whatever limp is hurting at the moment.

A minute later the door opens again and Mearps head appeared

“Luce... Kei.... Help... please? She bit the new physio already” the brown haired keeper pleaded with her teammates

“Rock paper scissors?” Lucy asked raising her eyebrow

“2 out of 3 or at first go?” Keira just asked back already getting ready

“First go... we don't have the time for 2 out of 3” your sister said getting ready as well.

“Okay Bubs... why are you causing trouble again?” your sister sighed as she entered the medic room “And what happened in the first place?”

“I want Keira” you sniffled

“Yeah well... Keira won rock paper scissors so here I am” Lucy shrugged sitting down on the exam table next to you

“Tooney threw the bowling ball on me foot” you whined and Lucy REALLY needed to bite her tongue to not burst out laughing – leave it to Tooney and you to actually get hurt by a bowling ball

“We just wanted to take a look but she wouldn't let us touch her foot” one of the Medics explained to your sister

“It's okay... I got it” your sister smiled as she sat down further down on the table putting your foot into her lap which caused you to whine and try to pull away

“No Bubs... let me look” Lucy said softly starting to undo your laces and carefully pulling your shoe off your sock following just after the shoe

“Okay... I'm no medic but it doesn't look broken...” your sister said looking up at you “We'll just let the pros have a look at it okay Bubs”

You knew it was a rhetorical question but that doesn't mean you couldn't answer anyway

“No no no no no” you shook your head quickly

“Yes... come on Bubs... just a quick once over and we're out of here again – I'll even get you some cookies” Lucy said softly knowing you needed reassurance right now

“Okay... but I want a donut... the chocolate one” you mumbled

“Of course” Lucy chuckled nodding to the medics

Just as she promised they just did a quick once over put some tape on your foot and told Lucy you should keep weight off it for at least 24 hours before sending you on your way again. Your sister knew you would be stubborn about letting her help you so she quickly grabbed you before you could slide down from the table and carried you down the hall

“Lucy let me down” you yelled annoyed as your sister carried you into the common room

“I will...” Lucy said calmly looking for a place to dispose you “Stop wriggling”

“Now...” you grunted trying to get out of your sisters hold

“No...” Lucy grunted back “Kei help”

“Just put her down on the beanbag” the blonde said already coming over

“Keira...” you whined loudly

“Oh Bitsy... what have you done now?” Keira sighed seeing your taped up foot

“Toons just doesn't know how to bowl” you huffed crossing your arms over your chest

“I TOLD you to be careful” the blonde scolded

“I WAS... I stood behind her... ball needs to go forward.. not my fault she doesn't understand the rules” you grumbled back

“I'm really sorry” Tooney said from the table where she got placed down by Mary “gently” (gently means death glare and pointed finger)

“I know you are Toons” you grinned “You got me donut”

“Excuse me??” Keira exclaimed looking at your sister annoyed

“She was good... she deserves one” Lucy defended herself knowing by Keiras look that the blonde didn't agree

“Just like always Lucia” Keira snarled “You don't have to deal with her when she gets all hyperactive because of the sugar – you just sleep or disappear”

“I'll be good Kei... I promise” you said quickly not wanting that Keira and Lucy fight

“I know you Bitsy... you won't... so you can have your donut... tomorrow... and in small pieces” the blonde said strictly

“But...” you started but got shut down immediately by Keiras killer glare “Can I play Lego with Tooney?” you asked instead sheepishly

“You hate Lego” the blonde answered as a matter of fact

“There's nothing else to do” you whined

“You can just leave your ass seated for a hot minute” Keira sighed loudly throwing her arms in the air annoyed

“That's boring” you whined making grabby hands towards Keira

“Seriously Bitsy.... you and Tooney are a guaranteed headache” the blonde said but helped you up nonetheless

“y/n... Tooney... you up for some media contend?” a voice suddenly asked from the door

“YES!!” you and Tooney exclaimed quickly as you tried to hobble away from Keiras prying hands as quick as possible

“Great... we have something fun planned...” the man you named “edit” (because he edits all the contend for the Lionesses social media) grinned widely

“You need my approval” Lucy yelled out just as you and Toons slipped through the door letting it fall shut loudly

“Okay guys... first you gonna introduce yourself and then we gonna explain what you have to do” edit says as if you two did media for the first time

“We know how this works Steve” Ella rolled her eyes

“Okay... then... go” the black haired man said

“Hi guys... I'm Ella Toone” Tooney smiled brightly

“.. and I'm the smarter and better looking Bronze” you grinned into the camera

“You have a name you twat” Ella said hitting your shoulder

“I know I do... but I AM the smarter and better looking Bronze” you huffed back shoving Ella so she nearly fell of the chair

“Okay... so here's what you two will do today” one of the media guys explained from the background “Ella we going to blindfold you and we play a little taste test”

“Why am I getting blindfolded??” Tooney whined loudly while you grinned

“Because you so ugly they don't want their lenses to crack” you laughed

“Shut up” Ella shoved you hard pushing you successfully off your chair and you took the table down with you.

Tooney looked down at you shocked but a second later both of you exploded laughing

“Oh god... we should've paired someone else” one of the media guys said desperately already seeing this go horribly wrong

The staff help you up again and set up the table again before giving you a Lionesses scarf and tell you to cover Ellas eyes with it. After you done your bit and actually tested that Toons really doesn't see anything by pretending to hit her multiple times you grinned happily back into the camera

“What now?” you asked excited as you got handed a take out box

“Now you just have to feed that to Tooney and she has to guess what it is” edit says pointing to the box

You opened the box looked inside and immediately gagged loudly before closing it again.

“What?? What is it??” Ella asked alarmed

You opened the box again and now even just the smell resulted in you gagging even louder (the gag that comes from way down) – you felt like you nearly need to vomit

“y/n... you can't do that... stop gagging” Tooney said seriously already feeling her stomach tighten

“Sorry... but... no... no” you said again pulling your shirt over your nose heaving again

“STOP IIIIIT” Ella whined

“This stuff is making me heave... I can't stop” you gagged again turning away from the take out box “I swear Toons... I would be livid if they made me eat that...”

“Stoooop” Ella now whined desperately “You can't say shit like that and expect me to eat whatever it is”

“Okay... okay...” you breathed deeply reassuring – not Ella but yourself “okay... this isn't gonna be nice okay Toons... just... swallow it... don't taste it just swallow it down... ready?” you asked having a little bit of the brown substance on a wooden spoon

“Fuck me” Toons looked unsure

“Trust me Toons... just... down” you said unsure as you lined up the spoon with roughly Ellas mouth

“But...” as soon as Ella opened her mouth you shoved the spoon into her mouth pulling it out a second later

“Get that away from me” you pushed the take out box harshly so it nearly tumbles off the table before looking at Ella again who actually started to chew a little bit

“Toons... just swallow it... you're not a fucking gourmet” you exclaimed disgusted

“What is it?” Ella asked trying to guess the right flavor

“It's dog food I swear... it looks like the stuff Lucy gives Narla... Caesars or something” you said starting to heave again

“It's not...” Tooney said convinced “It's pâté... or something”

“THAT'S Pâté?” you asked confused since you were sure it was dog food

“It's not Pâté” one of the guys said from behind the camera

“IT'S NOT???!!!” Ella screeched

“Told you... it's dog food” you said offhandly

“It's chicken paste” the guy said

“Oh... oh... it's not bad actually” Tooney said nodding

“No... if you ever bring that near me again I'll break you legs” you gagged loudly again

Half an hour later the two of you left the media room and Tooney helped you hobble down the hallway.

“I swear Toons... it look like dog food” you mumbled needing to concentrate on your good foot

“But it was tasty” the brown haired girl said softly as she held you upright

“Hey” suddenly someone stood in your way

You looked up to see your girlfriend leaning casually against the wall

“Need a lift?” she smiled at you softly

“I would take a ride too” you winked and this time it was Ella who gagged loudly

"You know... I'm just gonna call you Georgiaswifey from now on" Tooney huffed as she helped you onto your girlfriends back

(if you want to see the inspirational video to that media moment of bb and Tooney...

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C0M5xD0oapm/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==)

#lucy bronze x reader #keira walsh x reader #woso image #lucy bronze #lionesses x reader #georgia stanway x reader #sarina wiegman

388 notes · View notes

astronicht · 15 days

Note

Hi I hope this isn't presumptuous, but so, that post you made about Tolkien making the lads leave their weapons outside the hall and CS Lewis thinking the hall was gonna get burned down by a lady who also wanted to kill herself... what's the historical precedent for that? Is there a trope in medieval lit where people like... do that? I ask because uh. I am obsessed with Children of Hurin and there's a scene where that like, happens. And I'm obsessed with that scene, and would love to know if there's like, cultural/mythic context that would enrich my knowledge!

OH BOY, sorry I'm getting to this late, it's been uhhh a summer, but one, this is a very good question!! And two, yes there is absolutely precedent, particularly in early medieval literature, and high medieval literature set in the early medieval (circa 500-1100 AD) past. I'll let someone else debate how often people actually historically locked their enemies into a hall and burned them, but especially in Old Norse literature (and if Fellowship felt like it leaned a little more on Old English literature, Two Towers, where Eowyn appears, felt a little more Old Norse) this is common. Off the top of my head, you've got many Icelandic family feuds ending in burning the whole family in their hall, like Njal's Saga (Old Norse), Attila the Hun dramas (yeah he's a big guy in the burning halls circuit, but actually not in the way you might expect) like his cameos in Volsung Saga (Old Norse) and Nibelungelied (Middle High German), and my vague recollection of a few Irish and Welsh versions that no search engine is giving up for me right now.

This, predictably, got long and slightly off topic.

Disclaimer: As usual, I should say I come from an Old English-centric background, and Old English literature is actually notable among all its neighbors for not burning down too many halls. Second disclaimer, all links are not proper citations, they just go to wiki.

Hall-burning in literature is, to my understanding, part of the concerns of a few early medieval cultures in which revenge is not only expected but in many cases legally reinforced and codified, and one in which conflicts could spiral to engulf -- figuratively, or literally and in flames -- entire families. Many medieval Icelandic sagas are focused on this exact type of destruction of whole families or friendship/community units. Most relevant of these to Eowyn, Two Towers, and the vibes of Edoras (since alas I am only partway into RotK and can't speak to Children of Hurin yet!) is Volsung Saga, which is set on the Continent, not Iceland, and actually has to do with Attila the Hun. As mentioned before, an incredible amount of stuff turns out to have to do with Attila. We will come back to him!

So, on the particular post you're talking about, a few people iirc have replied pointing out that the hall in TT is clearly supposed to be based on a hall from Old English literature, namely the hall in Beowulf, which famously did not actually get burnt down. And that's all true! I was not posting with much nuance; I was mostly having a joke at the expense of CS Lewis. However, I was also referencing a very very common trope in Old Norse/early medieval stories, and I personally think JRR was as well (AND I think Beowulf was also very consciously referencing the exact same motif anyway) (no one has to agree with me, a tumblr blog, on any of these points).

The thing about the hall when our heroes approach is that the scariest damn thing in that hall is Eowyn. Certainly not every hall-burning story requires a woman with no other recourse to set the fire (in fact, the "warrior band approaches unknown hall which might have a grudge against them" is a trope that can get you killed in a pretty homosocial environment, as I guess Aragorn at least was aware, being a big reader). Still, the presence of a woman who is swiftly running out of options does fit what I'd consider one of the or perhaps The best known version of the early medieval burning hall trope: Gudrun, who shows up in at least a dozen different texts in both the Scandinavian and the German language traditions, including Volsung Saga, a text which itself often gets paraded around as the basis of lotr (which I'm sure it is, in that JRR appears to have simply and very fairly based lotr on every piece of early medieval vernacular literature I can think of).

In a portion of Gudrun's story (which of course changes a bit in each retelling), after her first marriage she is unhappily married to Atli, who is none other than our main man Attila the Hun. After Attila kills her brothers for reasons (in one version, her father), seeing no other way to take the necessary revenge and no other way out, she kills the two sons she had by him, serves them to Attila for dinner, has Attila killed, and then sets fire to the hall with everyone in it. After this, she attempts to drown herself.

The self-destruction of this act is a really important beat, and has only gotten more-so as a comparison to Eowyn the further I've read into RotK (currently, I'm at the houses of healing after merry and eowyn take on the witch king). It's a lot clearer in the book than the films, for me, that Eowyn going off to battle was not so a straightforward empowering and/or freeing move, despite allowing her some agency, but more the one path she saw as available to her with which to die with honor (which was pretty much exactly what Gudrun was facing as well). Like Gudrun, whose first husband was a great hero but has died, Eowyn's romantic choice is a hero who is presumed dead (sorry Aragorn they did Not believe in your ghost skills). In fact, in some versions Gudrun does put on armor and fight with her brothers before they're killed. She kills Attila with her own hand, with the help of another man who needs to avenge a blood feud against Attila.

So while Eowyn didn't get forced into marriage to Attila Wormtongue (with apologies to both historical Attila and that one historical skald also called Wormtongue who was reportedly hot) and burn the whole place down, she's still trapped, and like Gudrun chooses destruction alongside her household.

Reading her arc feels so much like watching Tolkien write a fix-it for Gudrun. What if she got this one little chance, and this one other little chance, and this one more -- tiny little shifts in the narrative that allow her to get out, and not through fire, and not through death.

Anyway, this got away from me. I hope it added some context to the Children of Hurin arson case! Thanks for the ask

#ask replies #astro lotr #how long is this ah man #cw for some discussion of suicide in fiction? blanket cw for norse sagas tbh

203 notes · View notes

billiedeansbitch · 8 months

Text

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞 (𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰)

(𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

NEXT PART>>

Summary: The one where in Larissa sex life is no longer boring or Larissa took chance on a young shapeshifter who had a massive crush on her.

Warning/s: PORN WITH MASSIVE FEELINGS. G!P READER.

(Ao3 link)

Her thighs trembled, threatening to close around your head and her breath shook with every movement of your tongue against her hot, wet cunt, so soaked with her own arousal and your spit making it so easy for you to penetrate her hole.

“Darling, please.” She pleaded, her voice barely a whisper and her breath stuttered, her back arching off of her seat. “Please.” She repeated. The bucking her hips to receive more of that pleasure betrayed the hand that was pushing your head off from her cunt. She was overly stimulated, her pussy clenching tight around you as you fuck those fingers deep and hard into her, paying no mind to her pleas as your focus was zeroed on giving her the best pleasure you could give.

“One more, Larissa. Come for me one more time.” She shook her head, mouth falling open to protest but before she could get the words out, her own moans interrupted her, spilling out much louder this time. It was like throwing a tank of gasoline to an already blazing pit of fire. The way she breathlessly called for your name on repeat, her fingernails digging to your scalp and fisting your hair in a tight firm grip, oh, it fucking did it for you.

She watched you, though she was struggling to keep her eyes open, as you finger her until she had tears rolling down her cheeks, “Darling, please, no more.” and the heel of her foot dug on your back, “No more? Oh, baby, but look at you. You really don’t want me to stop, do you?” It was easy to manipulate her body into coming for you for the fourth time. You almost groaned, feeling her body tensed beneath your fingertips.

When you pulled, Weems could barely form a cognitive thought let alone move a muscle. Her legs, shaky.

Right there, still half naked with her thighs smeared with the proof of your worship, Larissa felt nothing but a limp doll: overused and overfucked.

It wasn’t like she was going to complain but she knew her body would give her hell the next day for all the stunts you both did in her office before moving back to her quarters and though there was one spacious bed, you insisted to fuck her on the couch with her back turned, kneeling, and holding for dear life on backrest while you took her from behind. You had one hand guiding her hip as they slammed right back to you and the other fisting her silver tresses.

She came faster in that position, and yours came mere seconds after, filling her pussy with so much cum it dripped down the insides of her thighs and onto the premium leather.

Larissa’s knees were still flaming red after bearing her weight for the longest time you’ve fucked her but she was keen to ignore the pain and the visible bruising when she buried your face in her pussy to lap the juices that still leaked from her in retaliation of what you did to her. It was only right to clean up the mess you made and that was how you ended up where you were right now: in between her legs, grinning like cheshire cat with a cum-smeared face.

“Are you hungry? I’m hungry,” you stood up with a popping sound from both knees, “Jesus, how old does my body think I am?”

Larissa kept her eyes fixated on your physique; shamelessly bare and sweaty, setting her on the edge of yet another urge to pounce on you like a woman starved. Whatever you were muttering went past her ears, her eyes lingered on your breasts down your soft belly before it dipped to the appendage hanging in between your legs. So fucking irresistible. To be honest, you could just stand there and do nothing and Larissa might just have her fifth. Good Lord, what are you turning her into? Some sex-crazed bitch.

She’d been thinking less with her head and more with her cunt and honestly she couldn’t blame herself if you looked like that.

Larissa bit her lip, unable to resist the tempting visual before her.

From the floor, you picked up your shirt and slid it over your head and straightened it out around the torso. “I’m gonna go out and get us somethin’ to eat.” next were the pair of sweats, drawing the strings tight before you made a knot to secure it in place.

“Hmm?” she mindlessly hummed, watching you tuck the strings inside the waistband.

“Food. I’m gonna go get us some food, you craving something in particular?”

“No...” Her mind still clouded with post-sex haze that much was clear.

“How about fish and chips? I heard lots of good things about the newly opened business just ‘round the corner.”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay, I’ll be back in… say half an hour?”

When Larissa snapped from whatever incantation you put her, you were already grabbing your keys and a couple of bills to shove them right in your pocket.

She smiled when you walked up to her and kissed her cheek, “I’ll be as fast as I can. Go shower while I’m gone and then maybe we can watch a movie while we eat, yeah?”

“Sounds like a plan, sweetheart.”

You were about to pull but she was quick enough to catch the neckline of your shirt and drew you closer, pecking your lips one more time. “What if we both shower together? it will be quick I promise.”

“As tempting as you may be, I need to feed my woman, she gets grumpy and blames me when she’s hungry.”

With one last peck, you were out of the door, grinning and humming to the last song that was stuck in your head.

–

The mirror reflected a blurred image of her, right where she stood in front of the sink wrapped in her robe ready to pick up her toothbrush when suddenly Larissa took notice of how there were two in the holder: one for her and one for you. She took hers, put some toothpaste and started brushing her teeth.

Larissa leaned her lower back on the sink, and took her time to look around her. Two claw clips, two robes, two towels, two different mouthwash (you claim hers was too minty for you so you brought your own) there were always sets of two anywhere she looked around not that she mind that.

She spit the foam and rinsed her mouth. When she walked in her bedroom, she saw the little trinkets you left on the left bedside table, more hair clips, elastic ponytail, your little lighter, the keys to your apartment, even your phone was there. Your side of the bed was unmade and she could see fallen hair strands on the pillow case where it was still dented in the middle from the last time you laid there.

You had made your mark everywhere and she could feel her heart leapt to her throat.

Tomorrow would mark six months of your ongoing little arrangement with her and yes sex was good—well, actually, it was the best. Larissa had never felt the real pleasure of fingers and mouth until you came alone and shattered her years of boring sex life. She no longer needed to make a trip to the store in the middle of the night to buy batteries because her vibrator died in the middle of chasing her orgasm.

Fuck, you were too good for your own good sometimes and after making her come in the first five minutes of touching the first night, she knew she needed to keep your around.

She was still dressed in her robe and drying her hair when you came back.

“Oh God, I’m starving. I need my calories now.”

While you put the take outs on the coffee table she went to grab a bottle red and two mugs.

From the kitchen she still had a nice view of the living room, and she watched you with a starved look as you removed your hoodie, your shirt lifting up in the process. Oh, yes, she’d have her dessert later.

“If you were to undress me at least do it with your hands and not your eyes.” Larissa’s face visibly turned red, “And let me eat first then I’ll let you pounce on me.” You chuckled, shoving fries into your mouth.

–

On Monday morning, the woman was greeted with a massive file of work she had to go through, she meant to bring these home for the weekend but her plans went in a different direction when you called asking her if you could steal her for some late lunch at the restaurant nearby the campus.

When you both returned though Larissa wasn’t ready to let you go, she pulled you and locked her office before crashing your lips together, your hands bunching the skirt up around her waist and slipping your hand inside her underwear. You ended up pressing her on the wall, too impatient to even wait to settle down somewhere comfortable. With her legs spread and facing the wall, your hips pressing to her backside and her lustful eyes only intensified when she felt the growing bulge until it was hard and poking, begging to feel the softness of her cunt, to be swallowed deep and to cum inside.

With her underwear pulled down around her gorgeous claves, you took her with long deep strokes, face buried on the crook of her neck.

Her face went red recalling what happened that whole afternoon, how you both couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. She hadn’t been with anyone in a long time and it embarrassed her how the briefest touch of your hands to her thighs, or the whispers on her ears calling her pretty or hot had her panties always in twist…and on the floor.

She sighed, sitting down on the fine leather seat and started working.

Maybe if she got it done early she’d call you.

–

Larissa, however, was consumed by her work, forgetting other things that didn’t exist within the walls of her office. By the time she had a moment to herself after signing and writing corresponding emails and polishing her report for the upcoming board meeting, it was already four in the afternoon, her lunch was barely touched sitting in the corner of her desk.

The woman sighed, pushing her seat a little away from her desk and reached for her phone. She raised a brow seeing there were no text messages or even a single missed call from you.

Usually there was at least one message waiting for her but today, there was none. She felt a pinch in her heart. No, no, she shouldn’t, she was not entitled to be upset, you weren’t her girlfriend. You two were just fucking around and maybe lately you had became a little too affectionate, blurring whatever rules you both had agreed on. Larissa felt like it was her fault, she let herself be enamoured, let herself to be too vulnerable for you. She let herself be comfortable.

Rule number one: Never be too comfortable.

Well fuck.

It was another two hours more of work when eventually her body screamed for comfort and some proper meal. She switched the lights off and locked her office, calling it a day.

—

When she arrived and put her car into park, her heart dropped. The lights were on and her front door was unlocked. It would have been wise to call the authorities immediately but she felt like this wasn’t an attempt to rob her. She slowly and gently pushed the door open, tiptoeing past the threshold but then the floorboards creaked.

“‘Rissa, is that you?” It was you. She knew your voice from every pitch no matter the distance. It was also impossible that she might be dreaming about this.

And before she had time to pinch herself, she heard the unmistakable padding of your feet across the floor as you approached her, and then there you were, in the flesh, right before her eyes. “Baby, hi…” all the anger and stress she felt within the day all subsided as a tender, sweet smile welcomed her.

You had a spatula in one hand, and you were wearing one of her old Nevermore shirts. Her brow raised at the lack of underpants but that wasn’t her main concern at the moment so she willed herself to look up.

You then stepped closer to kiss her cheek, your freehand grasping on her arm as you stood on your toes trying to reach for her.

“Okay lady you gotta bend down so I can reach you and don’t tease me about shifting. I'm too lazy and tired to do that.”

Her body listened, bending down she felt your lips. “I hope you don’t mind, I used the spare key you gave me. I know I should at least let you know but I have a problem…”

“You’re here.” she mumbled, still in a state of shock.

“I am. I wanted to see you and I’m sorry I know, like I said I should have texted you first but my phone fell in the bath yesterday. I was taking some nasty shots for you but it slipped. I put in a bowl of rice in an attempt to salvage it but it was helpless. I hope you didn’t think I was ignoring you.”

“N-no, no, of course not.” You almost broke my heart.

“Good because I would never do that. Ever.” You kissed her light on the lips, merely brushing your lips together with no indicated force. Larissa felt herself quickly melting away in your touch.

“I was going to call you at work but I don’t remember your number. Sorry.”

“And you drove all the way from the city just to tell me this?”

“Yes and I’d have to drive back again in the morning because I obviously have work but…yeah, I drove all the way just to tell you this and I cooked dinner and cleaned your house.”

Larissa felt like you were rambling too much so to cut you out of your own misery, she pulled you into a kiss, a long deep one with both hands cupping your face making you gasp before you were able to reciprocate.

—

Larissa could still feel the ache in between her thighs as she sat in the toilet. It was eleven in the evening and you were currently passed out in her bed, audibly snoring. She might have fucked you too hard, all of the frustrations were channeled in the way she took you and rode your lap resulting on multiple orgasms and it wasn’t like you were stopping her.

When she finished cleaning her hands and was ready to go to bed, something struck her in the midst of exiting the bathroom…her period two was weeks delayed.

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems imagine #principal larissa weems #larissa weems #gwendoline christie imagines #larissa x reader #gwendoline christie #larissa weems smut #Some g!p action #smutty smut smut #Finally my thoughts has turned into a written fic #billiedeansbitch

764 notes · View notes

weemssapphic · 3 months

Note

Hi there :)

I was wondering if you would be open to writing a Larissa x Reader fic where reader is dealing with vaginismus? I don't ever see it discussed.

The details can be up to you.

Thanks!

hello! i don't want to say i'm back but like... half, maybe 🥺 tbf I know who sent this request, it's been a while since we've talked about this but thank you!!! so much!!!

for anyone who is unfamiliar with vaginismus, it's a condition where the vaginal walls contract involuntarily when anything (a dildo, a penis, a tampon, a finger, medical instrument... etc...) is inserted into the vagina. this makes the vaginal canal very narrow and can cause significant pain and anxiety. i highly recommend doing more reading if you haven't heard of it.

s.e.x.

Larissa Weems x virgin!reader

words: ~5k | ao3 link in title

content/warnings: pwp/smut (minors dni pls), virgin!reader, vaginismus, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering

“Mmh… is this alright?” Larissa mumbles against your lips as her fingers toy with the button of your trousers, her other hand buried in your hair as she hovers over you in the center of her king-sized bed.

You hum in affirmation, her breath hot against your lips as her tongue brushes against your own, drawing a deep moan from your chest. “You can take them off,” you murmur breathlessly, and Larissa smiles into the kiss as she swiftly undoes the button and drags the zipper down, her hand slipping into the open trousers and cupping your pussy. Her fingers press against the wet spot at the center of your underwear and her smile turns into a smirk.

“So wet,” she coos, the word sounding absolutely sinful as it drips from her lips and brings a fresh wave of arousal to your core, your underwear now absolutely soaked. Your head tips back against the pillows and you let out an involuntary whimper, your cheeks slowly but surely turning a lovely shade of pink at the embarrassment of being so deeply and utterly turned on simply from making out with Larissa.

The two of you have been seeing each other for a few weeks now and, while you’ve finally managed to wrap your head around the fact that she does, in fact, like you back, you still find yourself growing shy around the shapeshifter, your attraction to her somehow growing by the day. At first you’d been nervous to tell Larissa that you’ve never had sex before - but, as with all things, she took it in stride, assuring you that it didn’t matter to her and she’d let you set the pace. On the drive back to her apartment after dinner tonight, her hand on your thigh had prompted you to mention you think you’re ready, which prompted a heated makeout session against the back of Larissa’s front door that ended up leading straight to her bed.

Larissa’s fingers press down a little harder against your cunt, rubbing back and forth, before she retracts her hand from inside of your trousers and reaches for the waistband, giving it a gentle tug. You move your hips and help her to pull them down, kicking them off into a heap at the foot of the bed.

Her hand lands on your lower belly, her pinky toying with the hem of your shirt as her lips leave yours and begin to trail along your jaw instead. Your skin feels like it could go up in flames at the slightest touch as Larissa’s hand slips beneath the fabric of your shirt and behind your back, fingers digging into your flesh as she holds you close and presses her torso against yours.

Your back arches of its volition, your body burning with a need to get even closer to her, your fingers twisting in her updo as you let out an involuntary moan into her mouth. “Fuck, Riss…” you mumble as she gives your own hair a little tug, before she shifts slightly above you, straddling you and pinning you to the bed as her hand leaves your hair and falls to your hip. She soothes her palm up your torso, pushing your shirt up until her fingertips hit the underwire of your bra - she breaks the kiss and her gaze meets yours, and you’re certain you’ve never looked this aroused before in your life, and you nod as you realize that she’s silently asking for permission to take your shirt off.

Goosebumps rise on your skin as Larissa tugs your shirt over your head and tosses it carelessly aside, her eyes darkening as they roam your (almost) bare torso - it’s more of you than she’s ever seen, and she seems to be drinking it in intensely for a moment, before dropping her head to your chest and peppering open-mouthed kisses to the tops of your breasts that peek out from your bra, her hands soothing over your hips.

Her lips feel heavenly on your tits but it’s not enough, and you reach behind your back as you arch off the bed to fumble with the clasp of your bra, which you quickly rid yourself of. Larissa looks up at you through her lashes, her lips curling into a pleased smile as she kisses her way to your right nipple, maintaining eye contact with you as she wraps her lips around the small pink bud.

It hardens almost instantly beneath her tongue, coaxing a moan from her throat that shoots straight to your core and makes you shiver in delight as your eyes fall shut. You can feel her fingertips start to toy with the waistband of your underwear and you lift your hips without thinking, silently encouraging Larissa to pull it down. You feel her pause, her tongue stilling against your nipple, so you mumble out a “please, Larissa…” that motivates her to continue, tugging your underwear as far down your legs as she can without releasing your nipple from between her lips - you reach down and bend your legs to tug them off the rest of the way.

Opening your eyes, you realize that Larissa is still very much clothed, and it makes you blush profusely, feeling slightly exposed even in the dim light of the lamp in the corner of the room. “Your turn,” you whisper hoarsely, tracing your fingertips over a crease in the sleeve of Larissa’s dress.

She hums and releases your nipple with a pop, sitting up and making quick work of her dress and stockings before straddling you again, now only in her bra and underwear. “That better, darling?” she purrs, a smirk playing on her lips as she reaches behind herself to undo the clasp of her bra. You nod absentmindedly, barely registering Larissa’s chuckle as your eyes are glued to her chest. She allows the burgundy cups to fall from her breasts, exposing pale, supple skin, her nipples slowly and visibly hardening against the slight chill in the bedroom.

You cannot help the way your gaze traces her body - her defined collarbones and strong, freckled shoulders, a contrast to the softness of her breasts and the slight swell of her stomach where it disappears into lacy underwear, plush thighs that bracket your own naked body. You swallow thickly even as your mouth goes dry, your mind racing to compute how you ended up with this goddess straddling you.

“You’re staring,” Larissa whispers, her voice gentler than before as it pulls you out of your reverie - your gaze snaps up to her face to see her looking down at you affectionately, her smirk having softened slightly.

“S-sorry, continue,” you mumble, feeling your face and chest grow hot - it makes Larissa chuckle, which only makes you blush more. “You’re beautiful,” you blurt out, and that makes Larissa blush, her smile turning shy for only a moment.

“Not quite as beautiful as you,” she counters as she leans back down, the smirk returning to her face and her blush fading rapidly - you’re about to protest when she sucks your pulse point between her lips and flicks her tongue across it, and it draws a moan from your throat as your mind goes blank.

As Larissa settles on top of you, one of her hands buries itself in your hair and the other finds your hip, her thumb caressing your hip bone before slowly traveling lower. You think you hear her mumble something like “so soft” as she moans breathily against your neck, but you’re too distracted by the way your skin feels like it’s on fire beneath her touch and the way her fingernails scratching at your scalp send a noticeable shiver down your spine - one that seems to spur Larissa on as she smiles against your skin and grazes her teeth over the bruise she’s just created, her fingers finding the patch of curls between your legs.

It brings a fresh wave of heat to your core, some of your arousal trickling out of you in anticipation, and you ease your hands in her hair, unsure of what else to do with them aside from fist at the sheets. Apparently this was the right move - as you give Larissa’s hair a tug, she moans and gives yours a tug in return. You can feel her smile against your skin, clearly enjoying herself as she marks your neck in hues of red and purple, and the thought of her enjoying herself just by pleasing you turns you on even more as you buck your hips impatiently, your clit throbbing with need.

A soft chuckle vibrates against the underside of your jaw and then Larissa’s fingers have found your clit and pressed down lightly, and the touch alone is nearly enough to make stars explode behind your eyes. “Fuck,” you moan breathily, and it makes Larissa chuckle again and raise her head to watch you as you tilt your own head backwards, your eyes scrunched shut.

A smirk tugs at the corners of Larissa’s lips as her fingertips slide lower, dipping into the arousal gathered between your folds - and, fuck, does it feel heavenly, your breath catching in your throat as her lips find your neck again and kiss a slow, sensual trail up to your ear, matching the pace of her fingers exploring your cunt. Your hands slide from her hair to her shoulders, thumbs gently and absentmindedly caressing her collarbones in a subconscious effort to ground yourself and keep yourself from floating away.

As Larissa’s fingers circle your entrance, teasing the dripping hole, your stomach sinks a little. There’s one thing you haven’t mentioned to Larissa yet - it didn’t seem necessary when you weren’t having sex and now that you suddenly are, you’re not quite sure how to say it without ruining the mood.

When you’d first broached the subject of masturbation with your friends, you quickly realized you were a bit different - whereas your peers shared recommendations for vibrators or, later, mentioned casually how big their boyfriends were, you could barely fit the tip of your own finger inside of yourself. When you did manage to push past it and go a bit deeper, it stung like hell, and no amount of lube or curling your finger against your supposed sweet spot made it any more pleasurable.

But maybe it’s different when it’s someone else, you think. Maybe it’s different when it’s Larissa; gorgeous, sexy, patient Larissa - because you’re more turned on than you ever have been, you’re absolutely drenched, and Larissa is being so sweet and so gentle. So, maybe, it won’t hurt if she does it.

It does.

You can tell as she slips the tip of her finger into your entrance that she’s not going to get very far, and your grip on her shoulders tightens just as much as your vaginal walls do, your stomach slowly but surely tying itself into a knot.

“Breathe, darling,” Larissa coos. “Relax for me…” She thinks you’re just nervous, she doesn’t realize yet that it doesn’t feel good at all, and you don’t know how to tell her without ruining the mood so you bite your lip.

“Is this alright?” Larissa’s voice is breathy with desire as she sinks her finger slowly into you, and you cling desperately to the hope that, the farther she gets, it will start to feel nice - you hope it will start to feel the way all your friends have described it to you, that the pain will give way to pleasure.

It doesn’t.

It feels just the same as when you do it - like she’s scraping at your walls, like putting a tampon in dry, even though you know for a fact you’ve never been this wet in your life.

Your walls are clenching around Larissa’s finger, though it’s not sexy, it’s painful, but how do you say something when she’s clearly enjoying herself? And what if she reacts the way most of your friends have done, with incredulous disbelief? What if she wants to stop entirely?

You’re so lost in your own mind that you don’t realize Larissa’s finger has stilled inside of you, no longer sinking further into you. She’s pulled back to watch your face again, your lack of verbal response to her question coupled with your fingernails digging painfully into her shoulder having quickly signaled to her that something isn’t quite right. The look on your face confirms it, your eyes screwed shut and your brow furrowed but not quite in bliss, and Larissa uses her free hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear and trace her fingertips along your cheekbone.

“Darling? Are you alright?”

Your eyes snap open and your stomach sinks further at the look of concern in the shapeshifter’s eyes, a pit forming at the idea of disappointing her.

“Does this hurt?”

A beat.

A moment where the world stands still and you feel your blood go cold as you struggle to articulate exactly what you’re feeling.

You nod.

“I’m going to pull out,” Larissa whispers instantly, her tone so soft and gentle that you can feel a film of tears forming over your eyes. You nod again and Larissa pulls her finger out of you as slowly as she can. The relief when your cunt is empty again is palpable, your grip on Larissa’s shoulders instantly loosening, and you watch in amazement, briefly distracted, as she sucks her finger between her lips to lick it clean as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, suppressing a little hum before adjusting her body against yours and cupping your cheek.

She rests her chin on your chest and looks up at you with big, sparkling blue eyes, eyes that shine with concern and affection in equal measure, her gaze so sincere that you have to look away for a moment and take a deep, steadying breath, bringing your hands to the back of Larissa’s neck to play with the stray blonde wisps at the base of her skull.

“S-sorry,” you mumble, your face suddenly feeling hot as a blush rises to your cheeks - you find yourself blinking rapidly to keep your tears at bay.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Larissa says softly, her thumb stroking back and forth across your cheekbone as her brow creases. “What happened?”

“I-it just doesn’t feel g-good, I guess…” you mumble, taking another deep breath as you think for a moment how you’d like to word what you have to say. Larissa can tell you’re thinking hard and she waits patiently - you can feel the subtle rise and fall of her chest against your body, her thumb on your cheekbone and her other hand resting on your shoulder, rubbing tenderly at your skin. “It… just kind of hurts… penetration, I mean… I have vaginismus, so I’ve never even really been able to use tampons or anything, either…”

Understanding floods Larissa’s features at your mention of vaginismus and she nods gently against your chest, waiting for you to continue - you don’t, you don’t really know what else to say.

“Does it hurt when you touch yourself, too?” she asks curiously, breaking the silence that, at least for you, has become somewhat uncomfortable.

“Yeah… I’ve never understood why people like it so much, or how it’s supposed to feel good.”

Larissa smiles softly at that. “Well, what feels good to you?”

You feel the heat of your darkening blush as you, once again, grapple for the right words, vulnerability flooding your veins as you lay yourself bare for Larissa. “A-anything on the outside, I guess… like touching my clit…”

As you speak, Larissa starts to slide the hand that was on your cheek down your body, fingertips lightly caressing the side of your breast, the dip of your waist, the curve of your hip, until they’ve reached your venus mound. “Does this feel good?” she husks, her fingertips grazing over your clit in a circle, just as before, her gaze staying trained on your face.

The gasp you let out as your hands slide back into Larissa’s updo tells her all she needs to know - a smirk tugs at the corners of Larissa’s lips as you give her hair a pull, and she applies a bit more pressure to your clit, watching as your eyes fall shut and your head lolls back against the pillow, your back arching off the bed.

“Will you tell me if you want to stop?” she asks softly, her voice an octave lower than before.

“Y-yes - I-I mean, I d-don’t wanna stop,” you murmur, a wave of pleasure washing over you as her fingers slide between your folds again. This time, they only ghost over your entrance, enough to gather your arousal on her fingertips and smear it across your clit as she starts to massage the bundle of nerves.

Her lips find your sternum and she lets out a deep hum that vibrates against your skin as she kisses her way down the valley between your breasts, down your stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in her wake. It’s not until her free hand comes to rest on your thigh that you open your eyes and look down at Larissa, the sight of the blonde between your legs drawing a moan from your chest.

“Spread your legs a bit for me,” she purrs, smirking when you immediately do as you’re told. “Good girl.”

Your stomach flips and you grind your hips a little harder against Larissa’s fingers, the coil behind your navel beginning to tighten as she praises you.

“Tell me if this doesn’t feel good,” she whispers, pressing her lips to your inner thigh and gently nipping and sucking at the soft flesh, her hooded eyes never leaving your own. She removes her fingers from your clit and the whine that escapes your throat at the loss makes you blush - you don’t have time to be embarrassed, however, as her fingers are replaced with her lips wrapping around your clit.

Larissa’s eyelids flutter shut, a deep, guttural moan vibrating against your cunt as she starts to suck your clit - the feeling is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. Your hands curl into fists in her hair, your body tensing, and Larissa wraps her arms securely around your thighs, her own hands rubbing your skin in a soothing manner.

“Relax, darling, I’ve got you,” she coos breathlessly, before licking a path up your slit, exploring your folds with her tongue. It dips into your entrance only the tiniest bit, then finds its way back to your clit to stimulate the throbbing bud with little kitten licks. The deep breath you take comes back out as a moan, and you try to do as you’re told and let Larissa pleasure you without getting in your head about it.

It’s hard at first but you slowly start to relax, your trust in Larissa growing with every flick of her tongue as your mind empties itself of doubt - there’s not a trace of pain, only overwhelming, earth-shattering pleasure, and what little embarrassment was left inside of you has long since evaporated into thin air as your orgasm looms ever closer.

Larissa can tell you’re getting close by the way your thighs are beginning to shake in her hold, your hips bucking wantonly against her face as you become a little bolder, trying to take control and fuck yourself on her tongue. She can’t help but smile a bit, moaning a little louder than before for your benefit and enjoying the way it has your eyes rolling back in your head.

“F-fffuck, Riss, th-think ‘m g-gonna cum…” you moan, unaware of how you’re subconsciously pushing Larissa’s head down and how your thighs are threatening to snap shut around her ears. You cum with another flick of Larissa’s tongue, your jaw falling slack to let out a moan that sounds so pornographic that you can’t quite believe it’s come out of your own mouth.

You feel like you’re floating, and it feels so good that you don’t realize that one of Larissa’s arms has left your thigh until she moans as well and you look down to see Larissa writhing against the bed - one hand clearly stuck in her underwear as she masturbates to the sound, the feeling, the sight of you coming undone on her tongue.

Blown pupils meet your own beneath mascara-coated lashes, Larissa looking hungrily up at you from between your legs, her lips still wrapped around your clit, and you can feel her smirk grow against your cunt as she bucks her own hips against her hand. Her gaze never wavers, though her eyelashes do flutter a bit as she works herself to the edge - her fingernails dig almost painfully into your thigh and her breathing becomes slow and shallow as her body begins to tremble.

“Fuck, Larissa,” you moan - with Larissa now cumming all over her own fingers, the need to touch her has become overwhelming, and you tug insistently at her hair, relaxing your thighs so that they’re no longer flush against Larissa’s ears. She releases your clit and pulls her hand out of her underwear, pushing herself up on all fours and crawling up your body until she’s resting beside you. She goes to cup your cheek and you turn your head, taking her fingers into your mouth.

Larissa’s pupils dilate further as she watches you suck her arousal off her fingers, your cheeks hollowing out and your eyes fluttering shut as your tongue teases the seam of her fingers - she tastes so fucking good that you can’t help but moan, your cunt clenching and your hands seeking out Larissa’s waist to pull her closer, one hand sliding down her hip and tugging at her thigh to encourage her to hook it over your own.

You release her fingers with a pop and open your eyes to find Larissa swallowing thickly, her lips parting and her tongue darting out to wet them - her gaze has fallen to your own lips and it gives you the encouragement you need to kiss her.

“Wanna make you feel good, too,” you mumble against her lips, drawing a moan from her chest as she deepens the kiss. She licks into your mouth, full of enthusiasm and need, her hands tangling in your hair and her nails gently raking along your scalp.

Taking the lead, Larissa starts to rock her hips - her underwear is soaked and it makes your skin prickle with heat where her cunt rubs against your thigh. Your hand slides up to her hip, just feeling it roll sensually beneath your palm for a moment, before you slip your fingers beneath the waistband of her underwear and give it a tug. Larissa helps you, moving her hips and placing her hand atop yours as you slide it down as far as it’ll go - she breaks the kiss as she kicks it off the rest of the way, then cups your cheek and crashes her lips against yours once more.

“Touch me,” Larissa sighs as she deepens the kiss, grinding her clit against your thigh, spreading her slick across your skin - you don’t need to be told twice, twisting in her arms to get just enough distance between the two of you so that you can trail your fingertips down her stomach.

Touching Larissa feels like a heavenly privilege - her abdomen rippling beneath your touch, the soft patch of curls on her venus mound, her hands sliding into your hair, long fingers twisting and holding you in place as her soft, velvety tongue brushes against your own. You slip your hand between her legs, swiping two fingers up her slit - they glide effortlessly towards her clit with how aroused she is, her slick silky against your fingertips as you trace a circle around her clit and revel in the way Larissa’s hips twitch at the contact, the way her breath hitches against your lips.

Your other hand slides up Larissa’s waist, tracing the underside of her breast before cupping it and giving it a gentle squeeze - Larissa arches into your touch with a sound halfway between a sigh and a moan, her lips curling into a smile against yours.

“F-ffeels g-good,” she murmurs. “K-keep going…”

You take your time circling her clit and exploring her folds, and it’s making your own arousal reach new heights as you feel how Larissa responds to your touch. Every time your fingers trace around her entrance Larissa’s hips buck harder against your hand - your breath is shallow with anticipation as you decide to slip one finger inside of her, and then you stop breathing entirely for a moment as you feel Larissa’s walls, warm and wet and unbelievably soft, clench around you.

“Fuck…” you breathe out, pulling away from the kiss for just a moment to regain your breath. Larissa’s breathing is just as ragged as your own and, as you meet her gaze, you see just how desperately turned on she is. “C-can I add another finger?” you stutter out, and it makes Larissa chuckle a little as she nods and rocks her hips.

You add a second finger and her walls clench again - it’s a bit of a tighter fit and it has your own walls clenching in tandem with hers as you sink your fingers as deep inside of her as you can, watching her face carefully for any sign of pain, or any sign you’re doing something wrong. You’re only met with pleasure and bliss, however, Larissa’s lips parting as her head tips back a bit and her eyelashes flutter as she fights to keep her eyes on yours.

You might not enjoy penetration but it’s clear Larissa does - her hips grind in time with each pump of your fingers, her grip in your hair tightening as her body tenses and arches with each ministration. You’ve added your thumb to the mix, lightly massaging her swollen clit as your other hand fondles her chest, pinching and pulling at her nipple and squeezing the soft, supple flesh.

Larissa’s moans pick up in volume as you pick up your pace, a string of soft, breathy ‘ah, ah, ah’s falling from her lips. Her eyes flutter shut and her brow creases as her cunt clenches particularly hard around your fingers, and you can feel by the way her thighs have begun to tremble that she’s close. You’re unable to kiss her properly as her jaw keeps falling a little slack, so you press your lips to her neck and start to suck and nibble at her pulse point, hoping to tip her over the edge.

“Mmmh… c-can you add another?”

Larissa’s mumbled words confuse you for a moment and you’re about to hum in question against her neck when understanding floods your system - you push in a third finger with your next thrust, feeling Larissa stretch around you, and her moans go from soft and breathy to deep and guttural as her hips stutter.

It only takes a few more pumps of your fingers to send her over the edge, her hands tugging painfully at your hair as her arousal coats your fingers, the knot behind her navel snapping and sending her into orbit. You can feel her chest heave beneath your hand as she arches her back, her head lolling back against the pillow and offering you better access to her neck as her hips lose their rhythm entirely and her entire body tenses beneath you.

You continue to fuck her through her high, until her body starts to relax and sink into the mattress, her cunt now merely twitching with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Your hand leaves her breast to thread itself into her hair and your thumb stills against her clit as you stop pumping your fingers. Her own hands loosen their grip in your hair, just resting against your head as she holds you in place to take deep, steadying breaths.

“Is it okay if I pull out?” you whisper between soft, lazy kisses to Larissa’s neck, and you wait for her nod before you gently remove your fingers from her cunt. Larissa’s hand searches blindly for your wrist, lifting it gingerly, and you raise your head to watch as she wraps her lips around your fingers and sucks, humming softly.

She looks so goddamn ethereal, her face flushed, her forehead slicked with sweat that her little platinum curls are sticking to, her brow fully relaxed, only a shadow of a crease visible. When she opens her eyes to meet your gaze, she releases your fingers from between her lips and smiles, pushing herself up slightly on the bed and wrapping her arms around you to pull you on top of her.

“How are you feeling, darling?” she whispers, her voice slightly hoarse, and you bite your lip as you curl into her.

“Really good,” you mumble. “I should be asking you that…”

Larissa chuckles. “So ask me.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Really good,” she repeats, her voice teasing - but the sparkle in her eyes as she looks down at you confirms her words, and it makes you blush.

Larissa’s fingertips dance along your spine for a bit - it grounds you, making you feel safer and more loved than you ever have in your life. Her lips pepper tender kisses to every inch of skin that she can reach, and her legs intertwine themselves with yours in an effort to hold you close.

“You know, darling, penetration isn’t everything,” she whispers after a while. “There are so many things we can do that don’t involve penetration at all…” Larissa’s tone is suggestive and a fresh wave of arousal pools in your core at her words, all sorts of sinful ideas running through your mind.

“Yeah?” you croak out, your voice betraying your growing desire. “Why don’t you show me then?”

You look up just in time to catch the widening of Larissa’s pupils as she smirks down at you, and her hand starts to make its way down your hip, giving your thigh a tug. “I just might…”

taglist: @alexusonfire @pro-weems-places @bigolgay @kimiinou @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @katie-bennet @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @michi2504 @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @sequoirius @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69 @Ssappling2004 @fictionalized-lesbian @i-like-reading @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch @The_Demon_of_your_Dream @agathaandgwenslesbian @http-sam @Cute-catx @saltrage @renravens @opheliauniverse @zillahofviolets-bayolet @scarlettssub @catechristiestuff @niceminipotato @barbarasstar @women-are-so-ethereal @thevillagegay @willowshadenox @lilfartbox1 @larissaoftarthweems

@dovesintherain @fallenbutch @lunala-rose23 @ahauandthesun @thenazwife @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 @thesamesweetie @theonefairygodmother @lvinhs @rainbow-hedgehog @sweetderacine @daydream-cement @catechristiesstuff @im-a-carnivorous-plant @milfomaniac @sapphos-ode @mrs.prentiss @ilovetlcc @toutoubum @lesbiahonest24 @wastdstime @gwens0girl @larissa-weems-chokehold @ladylarissaweems @makemyworldworthliving @spacetoaim22 @m1lflov3rrr @nightingalespen

A/N: I'm always here (even if I'm not posting) to talk about vaginismus and anything else of that nature 🤍 much love and thank you for reading 🤍

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #principal weems #principal weems x reader #larissa weems smut

288 notes · View notes

minkdelovely · 1 month

Text

catharsis

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“we are more

than our disguises,

we are more

than just the pain.”

Alastor x Lucifer ; RadioApple ; MDNI 18+

tags/warnings: angst (w/a happy ending), established relationship, hurt/comfort, crying, mentions/allusions of abuse, mentions of death from illness, sexual content (biting, blood/blood play, kissing, palming)

word count: 2.5k

author’s note: guess who’s writing angst again?? this kinda hit me out of nowhere, but is fully inspired by @sunlit-mess / SOL 1 x 1 (on twitter) recent works (linked HERE and HERE) with alastor seeking luci’s comfort. seeing these back-to-back just set something off in my mind and i couldn’t rest until it was out. a special thanks and shoutout to our darling @fraugwinska for helping me get a title on this baby — without her y’all would have been reading ‘untitled’ 😂💖 quote is from twin flame by weyes blood. without further ado, buckle up and dive in; i hope you enjoy 😌 (also posted on my ao3 if that’s your preference)

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

It was surprising, even to himself.

Alastor couldn’t recall the last time he had cried, much less in front of a witness. Composure and a display of strength were hard-won attributes he had built upon himself. Each unpleasant memory in his mind was a brick in his fortification; the tears he denied himself to shed the mortar between them.

He hadn’t always followed his own code of conduct and taken the ugliness of life on the chin. Before he had found his own strength, he could admit to being swayed by the will of others. Alastor found words to be harsher than the switch and was more than familiar with the sting of both. Though the switch was a boy’s punishment… A closed fist was more suitable for raising a man.

Or so his father had thought.

Mama’s boy… Just my luck. I got me a mama’s boy... C’mere you little pansy!

The repulsion in his father’s words hadn’t lost any of its potency, even after all this time. Alastor recalled them with more clarity than the face of the man they came from, which only served to plunge him further in his despair. Hadn’t he proven his resilience? Not only in body, but in mind and spirit? Perhaps not as much as he thought, with the way he was sobbing. If his father could see him now — bereft of stoicism and drenched in tears, drool, and mucus — he’d have been absolutely disgusted. Alastor loathed how much that bothered him. The fear of inadequacy lurching in his gut like a bad tonic.

Hot, angry tears flowed down the streaks that shame had carved on his face. Not that Lucifer would be able tell the difference with the way Alastor had burrowed into his chest. It was merely a fresh bout for the candy-striped vest to soak up. The saline fabric was beginning to chafe Alastor’s face, but he didn’t feel ready to surface; arms tightening around his lover’s waist as his hands gripped Lucifer with a desperation he assumed was buried long ago with his innocence.

Stop hidin’ behind your mama and come take your whoopin’ like a man!

Alastor choked on another sob and gasped for breath, heaving in Lucifer’s arms as the angel held him firmly. Gloved hands petting red hair and anguished, downcast ears. Hushed words of comfort spoken into the crown of Alastor’s head to soothe in tandem as they both shook from the force of the demon’s sorrow.

“I’ve got you. Shh, honey, I’ve got you.”

So much love conveyed in so few words. Alastor still grappled with accepting it. Evidenced by more tears fighting their way through his clenched eyes and a muffled, heart-wrenching cry into Lucifer’s chest. The pain of it went straight through the King’s heart as he pressed a firm kiss to Alastor’s head, feeling the distress on his face as he did so. How he wished to unburden the demon of his suffering. More than anyone, Lucifer could understand what it was like to be wracked with such melancholy.

If only Alastor could remember what had set him off, if he had, in fact, been triggered at all. He had just woken up this morning feeling low. Why was he dwelling so much on things that were better left to the past? Unbeknownst to either of them, they were sharing the same thought. And both knew that dwelling on things that couldn’t be changed did nothing other than inflict harm. Must they be plagued by the ignorance and rejection of their fathers for eternity? The cost of the scorn they’d endured seemed to grow ever higher some days.

That was one of the first things they had bonded over, sharing self-deprecating laughter to hide from their aching wounds. When love is built on a foundation of hurt, it’s only a matter of time before the walls crumble. Most times they were Lucifer’s, and sad as it was, it felt much easier to navigate. The angel was much more comfortable wearing his feelings, after all, and he’d had millennia of experience weathering his storms. Alastor was no stranger to being the shoulder to cry on. If anything, it came to him too naturally; a trait he couldn’t be sure was born in him or a side-effect of the wall he had built.

When Alastor buckled under the weight of his grief, it was devastating. He repressed himself for such long bouts of time that the force of his woe had the impact of an avalanche. Sadness, anger, shame, and regret cascading through his lithe frame until he was utterly hollowed out. Lucifer’s task of mending him was only beginning, he knew. It would be days before Alastor returned to himself, but he was more than willing to put in the work. Stitching his love back together with his needle of assurance and thread of devotion.

It was impossible to tell how long they spent this way. Alastor kneeling on the floor between Lucifer’s legs, knees sore and body aching, face still smothered in the drenched clothes donning the angel��s chest. Lucifer on the sofa in their bedroom, comforting the demon with every ounce of strength he could muster.

Until finally the tears stopped, replaced with uneven, sometimes stuttering breaths and hiccups. And soon enough those were gone too. Lucifer’s right hand rubbing Alastor’s back as his left cradled Alastor’s head. Before long, the demon was stirring. Sniffling a bit as he nuzzled his face into the mess of fluids he had left on the King’s vest and shirt. Lucifer didn’t mind, knowing that he could have it all gone with a snap of his fingers, but it wouldn’t do any good for Alastor to try wiping his face on his clothes in the state they were in.

“Let me clean your face, love. You’ll get a rash if you stay there,” Lucifer chided softly, manifesting a warm, damp handkerchief as he bent down to kiss Alastor's forehead for good measure.

It wasn’t a very convincing threat, both of them knowing that if Alastor did suffer a rash Lucifer would heal it in an instant. But Alastor conceded, and gingerly peeled himself away from the safety of the angel’s chest. His poor face was raw from tears, eyelids chapped red with irritation; dried salt crusted his cheeks like the vestiges of sea foam on the shore.

Alastor knew he looked awful. He could see himself reflected in Lucifer’s eyes proving as much. Every bit of moisture his body had was soaked into Lucifer’s chest, and he could feel the headache promised by dehydration blooming in his forehead. He was wrung out and exhausted but nearly began crying again, too moved by the tender act as Lucifer gently wiped his face. His Sire hushed him, voice calm and gaze full of adoration. Not even bothering to clean himself up before ensuring that Alastor was taken care of first.

The swell of affection Alastor felt in that moment was overwhelming, and he swallowed thickly as he closed his eyes, succumbing to the comfort of his lover’s hands tending to him. His father’s cruel words fading into darkness with every soft swipe of the warm cloth.

You’ll find someone special someday, mon amour.

Alastor was grateful for his mother’s memory, and wondered — not for the first time — what she would think of Lucifer. She had been a God-fearing woman, after all. A fear that she did not pass down to her son, choice of partner aside. He had turned his back on God long before his eyes had set their sight on the fallen angel. If she could see him from Heaven, he hoped that she would be happy. The Devil wasn’t all he was made out to be, if the way he cherished Alastor wasn’t proof enough.

His mother never pestered him about settling down, but worried for him deeply when they realized that she was sick and wouldn’t be getting better. Alastor was self-sufficient by then, with a year of working at the local radio station under his belt. Not that he didn’t take her concern to heart. If anything, when it came to her, he took things all too seriously. He wasn’t weighed down by the need for partnership or marriage, especially not when his career still had traction to gain. Alastor would try to tell her as much, assure her that she had nothing to worry about, and they would drop the subject and speak of other things. But he never left the sanatorium without receiving her prayers; his large, warm hands looking almost comical in her frail, cold grasp. Her hold on him was as fervent as the words and wishes she spoke to someone Alastor knew wasn’t listening. Though that didn’t make the act any less sincere or appreciated.

It was a brand of care Alastor thought he would never know again after his mother finally succumbed to her illness. The near-decade that passed after this had only cemented that fact. He didn’t seek companionship nor did he deny it when the mood struck. But beyond his small circle of friends, Alastor was content with his solitary life. Besides, a partner or spouse would have only made his nighttime affairs much harder to juggle — if not damn near impossible — and having the reputation of an elusive bachelor only helped with his fan base when it came to his radio segment.

It wasn’t until Lucifer had broken through his defenses that Alastor understood how he had barricaded himself from the world. And that he wanted support and comfort and understanding more than he cared to admit.

There are things you need that you can’t take care of on your own.

Basked in the warmth of Lucifer’s affection and his mother’s memory, Alastor hummed and opened his eyes, a tired smile curling his lips. Lucifer smiled back at him, expression benevolent and soft as his hands found their way back into Alastor’s hair to resume their petting. And grateful as he was, Alastor couldn’t ignore that Lucifer had yet to address the mess setting into his clothes. He fought against the pain as he uncurled his fingers, stiff from the grip on Lucifer’s waist, and silently began unbuttoning the candy-striped vest he had come to adore as the angel’s signature.

“Hey, you don’t have to —”

Alastor stopped him with a kiss, his fingers continuing their work as Lucifer sighed against his lips. The tension in both their bodies deflating as they shared hungry pecks and inhaled each other’s breath. All the while, Alastor’s hands remained busy with the undoing of buttons. First on the vest, then on the white shirt beneath it. Each open button providing relief like the snapping of a taut string.

Perhaps it was the musician in Alastor subconsciously rising to the task, but Lucifer would never cease to be caught flat-footed by the demon’s impeccable timing. How Alastor’s fingers managed to perfectly sync with his kisses was a feat Lucifer could only describe as divine. As if the acts were always meant to be one, never separate. It made the golden blood in his body turn molten; roiling through his veins as he sighed and chased every touch with relish. He was not often given these affections without needing to ask, whether with a look or an outright plea. Games that Lucifer was content to play, knowing that anticipation and a good tease left them both more than satiated.

With the collar of Lucifer’s shirt loosened, Alastor straightened his back and bent his neck to suckle and kiss down the angel’s pristine throat. The demon took his time with this, hoping to convey his gratitude and desire with every press of his lips against the milky skin beneath them. When Alastor made it to the junction between neck and shoulder, he was unable to resist the urge to sink his teeth in; the flesh yielding to his fangs like a ripened peach, and the nectar that soon coated his tongue was a gift in itself.

Lucifer hissed through the bite, hips jerking in space between them as Alastor groaned and languidly sucked and licked the blood rising from the wound. With his hands free from buttons, Alastor let them explore. How he adored the feeling of Lucifer’s small frame beneath them. Endlessly fascinated by the twitches and sounds he could elicit from the angel with little more than the slightest drag of his claws against sensitive skin.

Alastor released himself from Lucifer’s neck with a salacious pop and licked his lips for good measure. The whine that escaped Lucifer from the action had Alastor’s ears and groin at attention. The low creaking sound of antlers branching out mingled with their shallow breath. Alastor’s crimson eyes drank in the almost bashful look on Lucifer’s face, accented by a golden flush that made his abdomen tight with hunger.

How lucky he was, truly.

The silver lining of Lucifer’s descent was heavily in Alastor’s favor. Had Lucifer remained God’s favorite, he’d be in Heaven — a place Alastor had never planned to be. In truth, he never intended to be in Hell either, which is where luck came into play. He wasn’t destined for mortal companionship, but for something transcendent. Not a god to worship, but a sin. A king.

An angel.

“I’m unworthy of your benevolence,” Alastor lamented, desperately kissing and kneading the supple skin of Lucifer’s chest. “But I’m devoted to you, always.”

It was a sentiment he had expressed before, feeling much like Mary Magdalene washing Jesus’ feet with her tears. But it made Lucifer’s heart jump all the same; its rapid beat calling to Alastor like a siren from under skin and bone as his teeth latched to Lucifer’s breast. Their pleasured moans harmonized as Lucifer cupped the back of Alastor's head, encouraging him to continue with a whisper of his name. Alastor happily obliged. Tongue lapping at the pert nipple, hot and fervent, as his mouth and teeth provided a deliciously sharp suction, drawing out the ambrosia in Lucifer’s veins.

Lucifer struggled to remain cognisant, lost and overwhelmed as Alastor’s mouth peppered a trail of kisses from right to left. Alastor shifted slightly between Lucifer’s legs as teeth sunk into the top of his left pectoral just as Alastor’s left hand palmed his groin. The wanton cry that echoed off the walls of their bedroom only served to make Alastor desperate for more. Eagerly succumbing to his need to worship the angel, the agony he had suffered earlier behind him but not forgotten.

An offering of gratitude and declaration of fidelity in a language they shared when words failed. When adoration was beyond articulation and the only thing strong enough to quell their aching hearts was propinquity. The evening had started with Alastor falling apart in Lucifer’s lap… but it would end with Lucifer falling apart in Alastor’s hands.

And they would wake in the morning with tangled hair in wrinkled sheets. Sharing hushed jokes and lazy kisses as the early morning sun colored their room in a hazy, pink glow.

Healing each other one day at a time.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco, @redfoxwritesstuff, @chibistar45, @kaylopolis, @cutiebimbo, @lousypotatoes, @rfox1998, @cosmiccandydreamer, @hyperfixations-keep-me-going, @cherry-cola-100, @wonderlandangelsposts, @catticora, @velvette3, @sailorsmouth, @reath-solia, @junieshohoho, @cxrsedwxrlds, @littlebluefishtail, @hazelfoureyes, @sugoi-writes, @nxcxllxsevens, @swagkittybear

#alastor x lucifer #alastor x lucifer angst #radioapple #radioapple angst #radioapple fan fiction #radioapple fanfic #hazbin hotel fan fiction #alastor x lucifer fan fiction

169 notes · View notes

pursuitseternal · 9 months

Text

“The Second Day” of “Antics of the Newly Ascended:” staring Batstarion🦇

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader |E| 1.3K Pure antics and comedy

🦇 art by @marimosalad Link to full art

Summary: You can’t pick a lock without your Rogue, even if he is Ascnedant now. So you wait… and wait… until a new unexpected visitor flies in.

CW: Banter, Poop jokes, Tav filtering Astarion’s threats and antics, sneezes, and cute fluffy vampiric bats with an attitude 🦇 (no smut)

Previous Ch | Ao3 link | Masterist

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

“Hells, what is taking him so…flipping long?”

For a split second, you think Gale might actually swear, but no. The goody-two-shoes scout wins out in the end. You giggle anyway.

“Said he’d be back quick with a new set of lockpicks ready to go, Mister Ascendant Lord and expert of the underbelly of Baldur’s Gate…” Gale huffs and folds his arms crossly.

Karlach snorts next to you, both your backs leaning against the alley walls. You keep to the shadows, eyeing up the house you need to enter… surreptitiously. Those Flaming Fist have been everywhere lately, and you still needed your Rogue to break you in nearly everywhere in the City.

“He’s probably too busy doing Ascendant things to hurry, Gale,” Karlach chuckles, peering her horned head into the street.

“Like what?” you ask, folding your arms and pouting your lips, “what could he possibly be doing but rushing back to be with me?”

Gale rolls his eyes, seeing the wry expression on your face, he realizes you joke. “Oh, good one,” he chortles. “Oh lots of things, I would imagine if I applied my wildest musings…”

“Get to the point wizard!” Karlach slaps him on the back. “More taunting, fewer words.”

Gale sputters for air after having it knocked from his body. And you laugh at that.

Suddenly, you feel a breeze pass your face. A blur of white settles on the wall beside your head. Hanging upside down.

A fluffy white bat. It chitters at you.

“Oh shit,” Karlach jolts at the sight. “That thing is massive.”

It seems to chitter more.. proudly at that. You narrow your eyes at it… your other companions draw away a step, leaving the beast with space.

“If Astarion were here, he’d probably call it a snack and snatch it from the air…” Gale jabs, a self-confident smile on his face, proud of his own humor. His own best entertainment.

“Naw… he’s too busy picking out new fancy clothes…” Karlach peers into the street.

“Too busy trying to burst into a sea of mist…” Gale laughs.

You giggle, thinking of something he did just that morning, for an hour, “Preening his hair into a perfect coif before kissing his reflection…”

Gale’s mouth snaps shut. The bat on the wall chitters noisily again, flapping its wings as it comes to dart around your head. “That bat is all over you,” his eyes narrow, “but I’m fresh out of Speak with Animals potions for now.”

You shrug, “I don’t mind, maybe he’s lonely…” You hold out your hand, an offering to let the little mammal rest somewhere soft. “Gives me something to look after until Astarion comes back.”

“Don’t let him see you’ve got a new pet…” Gale taunts, leaning closer to peer at the creature that now rests in your palm, “He might get jealous and snap it up in his fangs.”

Does… is the bat… glaring at Gale?

You look closely, but Karlach guffaws. “Oh oh, I’ve got it. I think I know what’s keeping the Vampire Ascendant! He’s probably stuck taking his first shit in two-hundred years...”

Okay, now that bat in your palm is definitely glaring, and chittering, and… pissed. You look closely at last, it’s white fur catches the sun in shades of silver, its eyes are a deep red… almost a crimson…

You stop. “Astarion?” you murmur at the little creature, patting its head with a single finger.

It… He… bounces on your hand, chittering away, pointed little face nodding.

“For fucks sake…” Karlach groans. “How the fuck did you turn into that?”

Gale leans closer… but not too close just in case. “I’ve read that some Vampires can take forms themselves, if powerful enough.” He grins widely, “Could be ferocious werewolf, or noxious cloud…” that grin twists, “Yours is adorable, if I do say so myself, Astarion.”

You can almost hear the ire in the noises that he makes in reply. Still nonsense chatter, but the emotion is clear.

He is not amused.

“Gale, you do realize he will turn back, and he will be pissed,” you warn with a shake of your head. You freeze, a whisper tickling inside your mind as the creature in your palm twitches and rests. “Astarion says it’s not his fault you're a pack of incompetent… oh,” you pause, patting him on his head with a finger, “I’m not going to say that part, my love.”

“He’s… talking to you?” Gale twists his head and raises a brow. “Like, mind to mind?”

“Yes,” you nod, “we are just as baffled at the moment, I will be honest with you, even if he said not to tell you…” the bat starts scrabbling up your arm, chittering even more noisily than before. “Stop whining, darling. You’ll figure it out.” He comes to rest on your shoulder, hanging upside down from the seam of your shirt. “And he says he would rather you never again speculate about his bowel movements either, on pain of… I’m going to say, a severe talking to.”

“That’s not what he said is it?” Karlach guffaws.

You can’t help but let your finger scritch under his little chin as he dangles from your shoulder. “No, no,” you giggle as you watch his beady little eyes flutter shut at the petting. “He used his regular ascendantly foul mouth.”

“Well, Vampire Ascendant or not, he’s not going to be much help breaking and entering in that form, is he?” Gale snips, rolling his eyes.

“He says he would be more than happy to talk us through it, if we… oh, again? I’m not suggesting that, my pet,” you shake your head, removing your scratching finger to wag it at him. “Naughty,” you chide.

“How did you get like that anyway, Astarion?” Karlach chuffs, folding her arms and swaying on her feet.

“He sneezed,” you reply. “Oh, I wasn’t supposed to share that. I’m sorry, my love. You really should be more obvious about what is for my ears… er… mind alone.”

“Maybe…” Gale gives a mischievous grin, “if we get you to sneeze again… maybe you’ll change back to a form with fingers that can actually do some good.” He reaches into his pocket, takes out a little bit of powder, and blows.

The little bat writhes, fur standing on end, flat folded nose twitching before….

“Achoo!” The sneeze echoes off the alley walls, a burst of black mist that tingles your skin as his tall, lean and wiry body forms against your arm. You can sense his irritation, out right, cuttingly sharp annoyance lacing his angry breaths. Once the mist clears, Astarion is, in fact, glaring at you all. Crimson eyes dart from one to the next. “I am… going to fucking kill you,” he hisses.

“Shh…” you cajole, raising your finger to scritch under his smooth chin, clenched tight in his rage. Instantly, the moment you begin your gentle petting, he eases, eyes fluttering shut.

“I think he likes that, soldier,” Karlach whispers a giggle. “Do you feed him little treats when he’s a good boy?”

“Only if he gets us into that house with those dexterous hands of his,” you chuckle and slide your hand to stroke his cheek.

“Fine,” he sighs, exasperated, tired, and annoyed. “But not one of you breathes a word of this to Halsin… or Wyll… or… anyone.”

“Agreed,” Karlach slaps him on the back.

He begins rummaging his lithe fingers through his pack, turning those crimson eyes on you as you watch. “And you, my consort, don’t think I’m not going to make you pay for that mirror-kissing comment earlier…”

“Don’t think you won’t have to earn those chin scritches, my love,” you giggle in return as he flashes that fanged smirk at you.

“One more, my darling?” he purrs, watching the others start into the street already. “One for the road, one in case we die today?”

Your fingers reach quickly to oblige, his eyes closing to savor your attentive care. And you giggle, “Who can argue with that?”

413 notes · View notes

kaylopolis · 3 months

Text

Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Fourteen

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power…

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers,

There is a very important message after the end of the chapter. I will repost it because I know not everyone reads the messages hidden within this post!

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Fourteen - Picking a Fight

Content Warning: MINORS DNI!!!!! Mentions of abuse, Smut (let me know if I missed any!)

Alastor was sitting in the Doomsday District when he felt his magic surge. The demon had found a half-destroyed bench to sit upon, the metal twisted upon itself from one of his previous meltdowns. With his head in his hands, Alastor sat and contemplated the past few days - days? Or had it been weeks, months, since you kissed him in Louisiana? His sense of time had no meaning anymore.

“Hello, old pal,” a voice interrupted his thoughts.

Vox stood before the Radio Demon, a slick smile on his face as he surveyed the mess with which he had found him in. That was satisfaction enough for the media demon.

Alastor ran his hands through his hair - not to fix it, but to relieve the anger itching beneath his skin. Jumping right from helplessness to anger - he was so easily riled up these days, finding it harder and harder to contain his wrath. He had thought ripping up the Doomsday District would somehow help relieve that, like a slow release of propane from a gas tank about to be set on fire but it hadn’t. He should know better, the last time you had a hold on his emotions he tried the same thing, but to no avail.

“I am not in the mood for one of our little quips today. Go on home -“

And then he felt it. The magic beneath his skin surged, his green aura pulsed, only, it wasn’t his magic which emanated from his skin.

It was blue. It was your magic.

Alarm sparked panic in his chest. This wasn’t a coincidence.

“Yeah, I thought you’d say something like that,” Vox continued, completely unaware of the magic surging through Alastor’s veins.

It smelled of Jasmine.

Fuck.

The media demon flips his phone around to show a picture of you, unconscious and tied to a chair. Vox smirked at the realization growing on Alastor’s face.

He didn’t know it at the time, but Velvette had constructed two false images, including one of you.

“Checkmate,” Vox gloated. “This is how this is going to go-“

Before Vox had a chance to complete his rehearsed speech, Alastor had exploded in a wave of rage - a ball of living fire - except these flames were blue.

____________________________________________

For Alastor, everything changed the second you broke that seal. In that moment, he felt how much power you had. It radiated deep within his bones - even his soul felt it.

You carried a power so potent even Zestial would cower at your feet and - as much as Alastor hated to admit it - even he found himself unnerved around the original Overlord.

Roo. Here you were right in front of him the whole time. Raw power, hidden behind perfect teeth and red lips.

All he had to do was reach out and take it.

And then you leaned over him, had the audacity to leave yourself open. Alastor felt his body move before his mind did, his fingers itching for the handle of Velvette’s blade.

For you, you had proven you would do whatever it takes for power - Hell, you killed Eve for it. And now you had to live with the consequences. Alastor? He hadn’t crossed that line yet - he had no memories of guilt which screamed “No stop! Don’t do this!”

He had the memories of you, however.

Of annoyance.

Of desire.

Of lust.

Of fear.

Of worry.

Of happiness.

Emotions Alastor had not felt in such a long time…

So, why was it so easy to palm that blade and stab it straight into your belly?

Because Alastor was hungry. Like the cannibalistic murderer he is, Alastor has been chasing power long before he died - even so far as selling his soul for a drop more. And when you broke that seal and gave him but a taste of what ran through your veins, it pushed him past hungry, past starvation, the demon was dying and you were the only source of food for miles.

It blinded him - the power consumed his mind completely, directing him towards one prerogative - kill.

You expected this. Why? Because you did the same to Eve. Because you saw it in your father’s eyes every time he beat you.

The allure of power drowns its victim like a ship at sea in a storm.

You’ve seen that barely contained anger in Al before. The warning signs have always been there. How he tried to hold himself back when he’s around you, his demonic form slipping in and out when he sees something that he wants.

It wasn’t Alastor who sank that blade into your belly - it was the hunger for power, the Radio Demon within.

After all, who hasn’t been tempted by power and chaos?

“Absolutely beautiful,” Alastor had said.

Absolutely beautiful…

Absolutely beautiful?

Was he talking about you or the power…?

You broke the kiss. “Ha!” You laughed, the steel hilt deep in your belly. You didn’t even move, didn’t even flinch when Alastor stabbed you. “Oh, Mr. Alastor,” you sang, running your fingers through his bangs.

The demon sat back in his chair, absolutely confused. You’d die of shock seeing such an emotion on his face if you weren’t in the current situation the two of you had unfortunately found yourselves in.

How did Alastor phrase your deal? “A mutual agreement. We stay out of each other’s way, yet seek out the other when we can benefit equally.”

It was a verbal contract - not a written one. So, technically, the exact details weren’t drawn out. The magic was privy to the contractees’ interpretations, and magic works in funny ways.

Remember the dream the night you had your midnight meeting? Remember how Alastor attacked you and you defended yourself with your flames? Remember how it burned his clothes but didn’t hurt him.

That’s where it all began.

Anytime you had summoned your magic or Alastor had summoned his, it not only didn’t hurt you, but it empowered you.

You have stood in his static, have been enshrouded in his magic, and yet you came out unscathed. So why should a blade in his hand, hurt you? How was that any different?

You took the greatest gamble of your life, leaning over Alastor while he sat in that chair, allowing yourself to be vulnerable, knowing that there was a possibility that he could actually kill you. But you’re deal - it wasn’t just a quid-pro-quo, you help me out, I help you out. No, it was more than that…

… Alastor couldn’t harm you.

Which meant he couldn’t kill you.

And so you took the gamble.

You smirked, knowing your red lips did nothing but taunt the demon, “Quid-pro-quo,” You laughed. Grasping the blade, you slid it easily from your belly. You showed him the steel, absent of your blood. At most, the blade merely ripped your leather.

You laugh, “You shook on it.”

A huge fucking gamble, and it had paid off.

You take the blade and stab it directly into his right thigh. The demon didn’t even feel it. Batting your eyelashes, you turn your head like you sometimes see him do when asking a question, “Remember?”

Confusion turns to anger. And for the first time, you are met with a full-fledged Alastor in demonic form. The demon rips the blade from his leg and growls, his ears flattened against his head in irritation.

Oh, you were about to get the fight you have been dying for.

A tentacle wraps itself around your middle and flings you backward across the dirt. Landing on your back, you quickly jump to your feet, preparing for a possible second attack.

Alastor slowly rises from his chair, the knife slipping into his Void, and summons his microphone. He slams the cane against the ground, green sparks exploding from where it makes contact with the dirt before black tentacles emerge from his back.

The demon smiles, his lips threaded with green stitching. His sclera turn black, his antlers elongate, and prongs multiply atop his head. A green glow surrounds the Radio Demon as his body contorts in a series of cracks. Then Alastor begins to grow, the power with which he has gathered now physically represented by his size.

“Ha, ha, ha,” the demon chuckles, his laugh echoing as if through a broken radio. “Let’s begin.”

And then his tentacles lunge, the black tendrils encased in Alastor’s green static. You spin, taking flight. You fly right past the demon, weaving through his flurry of tentacles as you head for Pentagram City.

Alastor is hot on your tail the entire time, and just as you reach the edge, a tentacle wraps itself around your leg and flings you into a nearby abandoned building. Brick and metal come crashing down upon you as the building collapses, pinning you beneath it.

But it doesn’t slow you down. Summoning your blue flame, you set the rubble alight, and, like a newborn phoenix, you rise from the ashes. Only to be attacked by an army of… shadow demons?

Tiny doll-like creatures sewn together from black fabric lunge for your feet. Pulling your sword from the Void, you strike, but the blade does not cut them. Instead, they merely bounce off, like a ball hitting a baseball bat.

What the fuck are these things!?

One jumps for your leg, giggling as it attempts to sink its teeth into your flesh. Although you know it can't hurt you, you still instinctively jump out of its reach, using your wings to gain height. Luckily, the dolls can’t fly, and you watch as they jump beneath you, their arms outstretched as they lick their lips.

Cannibal dolls?

A growl warns you of Alastor’s next attack. You look up fast enough to see a literal car crash into you, the horn breaking as it slams into you. You land, the crumbled car crushing you as you roll down the street. Your wings take most of the impact, shielding your skin from the asphalt. Coming to a stop, you push yourself to your feet, the magic of the Book of Knowledge still surging through your veins. Standing, you face a demonic Alastor, his tentacles, as if legs, running down the street straight for you.

He’s made himself a target, blind with rage, drunk on the pursuit of power. It would be all too easy to summon the power you stole from Eve and turn it against the Radio Demon. You had never used it before, but there was no time like the present to learn.

Yet, as you stood, watching Alastor barrel straight for you, you hesitated.

No. Not because you couldn’t technically hurt him, but because you didn’t want to even try. Something within your chest twisted, stopping you.

You’ve been keening for a fight with him, but… but you couldn’t do it.

Instead, you stood your ground, focusing on the magic thrumming through your veins, and forced the power from the Book of Knowledge back behind its lock. The words disappeared from your skin as Alastor raised his staff.

A clang rang out as metal hit metal, your sword against his microphone. The demon was relentless, his strikes never letting up as he backed you down the street. All you could do was block, your heart not having it in you to strike back. Screams rang out as Sinners finally understood what was going on and fled in fear.

A crazed look in his eye, the demon continued to hack, his strikes sloppy, his weight thrown into every thrust. Technique-wise, he was no match for a skilled warrior such as yourself. You could have easily had him on his ass if you wanted to - but you didn’t.

A tentacle wrapped around your ankle, and as Alastor swiped at you with his staff, he pulled. You landed face first, a smack against concrete, rolling just in time to dodge the blow which was aimed directly at your face. As you rolled, you climbed to your feet and flung yourself out of reach of his next physical attack in one big beat of your wings.

The demon threw his microphone forward, just as he had done every time his tentacles came soaring for you. You readied yourself, prepared for the attack, but his tentacles remained still. The demon looked confused, so he did it again, but again, nothing happened.

He looked at his feet.

Oh, he wasn’t trying to attack you with his tentacles but with his shadow. The demon was commanding Rolf to attack you.

The shadow swirled at his feet, and frowned. Rolf actually frowned and then shook his head in refusal.

Ooooohh, and Alastor was not happy about that.

“Aaaaah!” The Radio Demon screamed as he slammed his staff down.

The ground cracked and broke in half, creating a chasm beneath your feet. You jumped just in time, but not fast enough to miss the Hellfire that was released from the earth. The green flames consumed you as you flew skyward, but, like all of Alastor’s other attacks, it did nothing to you. Soaring, you stopped as you reached the rooftops and got a better understanding of where you were.

You were on the edge of the Magne District and the Bordertown - in other words, you were blocks away from Alastor’s radio tower. As you caught sight of the iron structure, you felt that thing twist in your chest again. So many memories…

Again, the demon went after you, his tentacles propelling him to the rooftop of the building you soared over. His eye twitched, his smile constrained. And as he sent the next round of attacks your way, you felt your will to fight begin to fade. You didn’t dodge as quickly. You didn’t fly with as much vigor.

He wasn’t going to stop. Alastor wasn’t going to stop…

You’re not sure why you did it; perhaps some part of you was still holding on, but you led him right to the radio tower.

Landing on the balcony, you slipped your sword into the Void and waited as Alastor made his way up. The demon came to a stop at the other end of the landing, the lights of Pentagram City your backdrop. You put your wings away, your demon form slipping from you until you were just standing in your ripped leather gear.

There was a gleam in Alastor’s eye as he surveyed you. He thought he had you. God, he looked absolutely mad. You dodged as he swung, staying easily out of his reach as if it were a training exercise. Jesus, you could do this but not dance?

You looked into his eyes as he attacked you, seeing nothing but steel, a raging fire that had consumed him completely.

And that’s when you realized… Despite the contract you had made ensuring your safety, Alastor was still trying to kill you.

And your heart shattered. Your steps faltered, giving Alastor the opportunity to knock you to the ground. You didn’t even try to fight him as he climbed atop you, straddling your waist. The demon pulled Velvette’s blade from the Void, forgoing his microphone completely.

And you let him.

The Radio Demon held the edge to your throat, his entire body seething in anger and frustration at the object of all of his desires just out of reach. So close, yet so far.

“You want this more than you want me…” You whispered.

His mask slipped ever so slightly, his movements freezing as you spoke.

You gritted your teeth, “Fine. Alastor. You want it so badly, enough to kill me for it, then take it. Fucking, take it.”

You were so stupid. How could you think Alastor would be any different? Everyone in your life you’ve ever cared about ends up disappointing you…

“Alastor Hartfelt, I, Mikaela Morningstar, release you from our contract.”

SNAP!

The connection between you was severed.

And almost immediately, you felt warmth on your neck, the edge of the blade digging into your flesh just enough to draw golden blood. Alastor’s eyes were instantly drawn to it. The demon gasped. Something behind his gaze shifted at the realization of what you had just done.

“... And that’s when I decided she was not worthy of your death,” you repeated the words Alastor spoke to you after he saved you from Vox and Velvette, a moment in time when your death had nearly broken him. “No one was. If anyone was going to draw your last breath from these lips, it was going to be me.”

The demon met your gaze, his crazed smile faltering, the fire in his eyes sputtering.

“Make do on that promise, Radio Demon.” Your voice cracked as the tears streamed down the corners of your eyes. “You’d be doing me a fucking favor.”

A favor… because you’d rather be dead than live with the fact that Alastor would kill you for something so trivial as power.

He made you care about him. The way he rescued you from Velvette and Vox, how he dotted over you as you healed. He was killing himself with worry when you collapsed the second time. He made jambalaya from his mother’s recipe and spent hours sitting with you on this balcony, watching the City lights. He was worried when you didn’t eat, running straight to you when he heard. He kissed you as it rained, whispering promises in your ear. The demon danced with you in Mardi Gras, bought you a fucking donut, for crying out loud, and told you things about his mother that he never told anyone else.

Alastor made you fucking care about him, and now he was ripping out your heart and stabbing it with an Angelic blade - literally and metaphorically.

So yes, he’d be doing you a fucking favor because Alastor was killing you either way - slitting your throat was just the much less painful option.

You closed your eyes and waited for death…

You had taken so many lives, and yet you had never thought about your own. You never imagined how you might die because, up until recently, you didn’t know you could.

God, you didn’t know death could be this fucking painful.

Yet, you welcomed it. There was no afterlife for you to look forward to, which was a blessing. You didn’t have to live with this weight anymore, this burden of existence, of the trauma and torture you have been put through. Finally, you could just cease to be…

____________________________________________

The moment the golden blood trickled from your neck, Alastor’s mind flashed to the night you killed Val.

The demon had stalked you from the shadows, having heard the explosion all the way from the Doomsday District. He watched from the darkness as you burned Valentino from the inside out, absolutely mesmerized.

And then Velvette ran her blade across your chest, and golden liquid spewed from the wound onto the concrete. Alastor had never moved so fast in his life. In a blur, he summoned a tentacle and threw a car at Velvette and Vox, stopping them only momentarily but long enough. Then he was at your feet.

SNAP! The golden liquid disappeared, and Ralph shadowed you to the Nothing.

Alastor’s heart rammed so hard against his chest he could hear nothing else, think nothing else as he collected you in his arms. The Radio Demon had never really known true fear before, even as he died he wasn’t afraid. Such a foreign feeling… He didn’t know how to process it. It left his mind blank, his lungs devoid of air, his body aimless as he forced himself to move.

And then you were on his bed, your golden blood pouring into his red satin sheets. Rolf acted on his own, immediately taking off for Cannibal Town without Alastor even having to command him. The demon collapsed to his knees at the edge of the bed, forcing his claws to untie the dark cloak around your neck, but his damn fingers wouldn’t work! He was shaking so much…

“Oh, my stars!” Rosie melted from the floor, curlers in her hair and wrapped in a pink bathrobe. “Alastor, what is…” She caught sight of you on the bed and the Overlord in full panic next to you.

Alastor turned to her, desperation swimming in his eyes as he managed to utter two words, “Help me.”

____________________________________________

“Alastor,” Rosie set a steaming cup of tea before him - chai - but Alastor didn’t move to drink it. He couldn’t even pick up the cup. It reminded him too much of the coffee you made him, how you flavored it with chai leaves. It reminded him too much of you. Of the beautiful woman held together by nothing but thread in the next room.

Rosie lay a hand on his arm, moving slowly so as not to startle the demon. He had calmed down immensely but was still shaken up. “Tell me what happened.”

“She went after Valentino,” He swallowed dryly.

“Sweetheart, that’s not what I’m asking. I can see the destruction of the Tower from your window. I’m asking what happened to you. I’ve never seen you like that before.” The demon prodded carefully.

Rosie had asked about you before - attempting to pry information from Alastor. It’s not that she was spying on you. She didn’t need to do that. You told her everything. She wanted to know what Alastor thought of you. A matchmaker from the very beginning - from the moment you stepped foot into her Emporium and ran right into Alastor.

Alastor looked down at the cup, the leaves of tea swimming around the steaming liquid. “I don’t know. All I know is… It hurt… I hurt…”

Rosie cooed, “And why do you think that is?”

Alastor was speechless. Nothing coming to mind. He honestly didn’t understand what was happening to him. Why he was feeling the way that he was feeling. He’s never felt so utterly helpless and honestly couldn’t understand why.

“Darling, let me ask you, cannibal to cannibal, what is the most important organ in the body?” Rosie smiled, her teeth wickedly sharp.

Of course, Alastor picked the brain - so iconic and representative of his character.

Rosie giggled. “Oh no, I think my late husband is evidence enough of that. No, dear, it’s the heart. Something so vital that keeps us alive, and yet one tiny little nick and you bleed out and die. And dying hurts, let me tell you.” She shrugged, sipping her tea.

Rosie let Alastor stew on this for a moment before clearly spelling it out for the Overlord. “You are hurting because the Vees went after your heart.”

____________________________________________

CLANG!

Your eyes fluttered open to find Alastor looking back at you, tears in eyes of his own. His chin trembled as he cupped your cheeks. Alastor had dropped the blade, the steel clattering between the cracks in the balcony flooring before falling to the street below.

The demon’s forehead came to rest on your own as his demonic form receded, his green aura fading. “... a drop more might break me.” His voice shook, his words absent of his radio static, his Louisiana accent slipping through. “Rarely am I wrong about something.” He chuckled through a sob. “I just didn’t think it would be by my hand.”

“Alastor…?” You searched his eyes for an explanation.

“My darling.” A breath. “Ma cherie.” Another. “Mon couer.” Another. “My heart.”

Alastor’s eyes were glassy. “One cannot live without their heart.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

Was he saying what you think he was saying?

“You choose me?” You asked, hope sparking in your chest.

The demon smiles softly. “I choose you, mon couer. I choose you…”

You smiled as you grabbed Alastor by his shirt and pulled him in. Your mouths crashed together.

You can taste the relief on his lips, the solace evident with each swipe of his tongue. Finally, you could allow yourself to simply enjoy the taste of him. Finally, you could simply not think and only feel - no longer weighed down by the troubles plaguing your mind every time he grew close to you.

He knew your name.

He knew your secret.

He knew your power.

He knew everything.

And he had chosen you.

Nothing held the two of you back now, not emotionally or physically.

Alastor broke the kiss, already panting, his chest heaving as it matched yours, “How are your injuries?” His eyes roamed you, searching for active bleeding.

You smirked, “I’m in perfect health thanks to you,” you pulled the collar of your leather gear aside to reveal the injury Velvette gave you, the skin now pink and scarred over.

Alastor ran a finger across the mark, making you shiver beneath him.

You had much to figure out today, but it could wait.

The demon smiled, “Good,” he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I believe I made some promises to you that I intend to keep.”

Alastor dipped lower, and you gasped as his tongue connected with your skin. Alastor traced the outline of the cut on your neck. His forked tongue lapped the golden liquid, not letting a single drop escape. When his lips were wet and sweet with your blood, he leaned back far enough only for you to see his eyes, his pupils blown, “You’re mine,” he breathed.

Your body shuddered in what might have been a sob, a cry in joy as his lips found yours.

Finally. Fucking, finally.

You expected the kiss to be gentle - soft - a kiss that could take its time. After all, you had plenty of that now. But Alastor had warned you - he was not gentle. You moaned into his mouth, the iron tang of your blood on your lips as he crashed into you. The kiss was powerful, threatening to drown you in him completely.

The demon scooped you up in one fluid motion before you were shadowed into his bedroom and placed on red silk sheets.

The demon had his jacket off, never breaking your connection, before crawling up on you. The demon pushed you back, laying you out on the platter of red, his own personal feast. He pressed himself into you, one leg between your thighs, and you instinctively arched as his warmth soaked into your bones, as he hardened against you.

Alastor broke the kiss to run his tongue up your cheek, licking the golden liquid that had bled from your now-healed cheek. The demon moaned, his dick throbbing in his pants in response. You took the opportunity to find the buttons of his red suit jacket, popping open the three buttons before diving into the ones on his collared shirt.

There was something so intimate about undressing him. You could - if you had wanted to - magicked the clothes away, but where was the fun in that? There were layers to Alastor’s outfit, layers you wanted to peel back one by one; it was a privilege to do so. In a way, you felt like you had earned that privilege, and you were going to take advantage of every moment of it.

Al pulled back, surveying your face. He ran a hand through your silver locks as they splayed out across his sheets, pushing it aside from your neck where bruises once decorated your skin. His eyes lit up, almost as if they were screaming, mine, all mine, before his lips found your neck.

Oh, if you thought his kisses were intense before, it was nothing compared to now. Alastor held nothing back, his canines nipping at your skin till he drew blood. The pain was a beautiful burn that made your head dizzy. His tongue licked away the gold, soothing the erotic pain pooling in your core. You gasped as his hands found your hips and tugged.

He wanted your clothes off.

SNAP!

Your leathers disappeared, leaving behind nothing but your bra and underwear. The armor didn’t have zippers or ties, it wasn’t meant to be slipped on and off, but you wanted Alastor to undress you. You wanted to feel his claws as they scraped across your skin and slid your underwear down your legs…

Alastors hand found the waistband of your underwear. The demon chuckled against your neck, after stealing a glance. “Such a naughty little thing.”

You may have changed into your favorite pair of undergarments, a dangerous matching set of silk. All in red, just for him.

Alastor bit your neck, hard, not a full on bite, but a nibble that made you gasp. You arched up into him, his knee between your thighs. With one hand thrusted into your hair, the other went to your bra, to cup the swell of your breast.��

The demon had perfectly sized hands, your breasts a matching handful. You cried out as he squeezed. Goosebumps rise on your skin as the demon’s mouth travels south, his lips trailing to the swell of your breasts. His claws scraped across your skin, finding the strap of the garment and slowly lowered it over your shoulder. You arched, prompting him to slide both hands behind your back as he smiled up at you, his eyes promising to do terribly wonderful things to you.

Then your bra was off, and his mouth was on your breast, and he sucked, his tongue flicking your nipple. You plunged your fingers into his hair, wrapping them around his locks. Your finger lightly brushed his ears, and the demon growled, his mouth on your breast, his hips bucking instinctively.

Alastor pulled back despite your bark of protest - that turned into a gasp as the demon backed off the bed, wrapped his arms around your hips, and tugged. He yanked you to the edge before violently ripping off your underwear.

Your cheeks heated as Alastor kneels before you, his face mere inches from your heat as he hooks your legs over his shoulders.

He was kneeling. The all and powerful Alastor Hartfelt was on his knees for you. No one would ever believe you…

And then he sinks two fingers inside you, all the way up to his first knuckle. You cry out, your breath stuck in your throat as your nails dig into his sheets. He slides his fingers out slowly, then shoves in hard again, practically pushing you back up the bed.

“Oh, my - Al!”

Alastor cuts you off with his mouth, his tongue licking your clit and setting you on fire. Instinctively, your toes curl, and your body pulls in on itself, but Alastor’s claw digs into the meat of your hip, keeping you spread open as he thrusts his fingers in again, his mouth feasting on your juices.

Digging your nails in tighter, you swear you rip the fabric, trying to hold on.

The demon chuckles as your next gasp turns into a moan. God, it was like Alastor was punishing you, dominating you, a relentless force pent on overpowering you in every sense of the word.

You swore you'd never bow before another again, never let another command you, but for Alastor, you'd gladly fall to your knees if he asked.

The pressure was starting to build. Fuck, the last time this happened, you leveled a building.

“Alastor,” you choked out.

But the demon didn’t stop, didn’t even come up for air. Alastor pulls his fingers almost all the way out before thrusting them fully in.

“Al-”

The demon glares at you, a gleam in his eye. He wanted to push you over the edge and was not going to stop, no matter what.

Shit. Shit. Shit!

He picks up the pace, his fingers constantly roaming in and out, his mouth working in tandem quickly working you up towards your climax.

Your head is gone now, your breathes in gasps with each pump of his fingers, each swipe of his tongue. The demon bites down on your clit between his upper teeth and lower lip. A wave of pain has you teetering.

“Al!” You scream as, on the last thrust, Alastor curls his fingers, hitting that wonderful bundle of nerves that has you flying over the edge. You arch up as spasms overcome your body, as Alastor continues to pump and continues to ride you through your high.

Be damned if you burned this place to the ground. It was worth it.

Your inner walls clench around his fingers, your entire body tensing up. Heat floods through you as you pant, breathless and dizzy.

Alastor doesn’t stop until your back finds the sheets again, until your twitching has slowed, and your breathing has normalized.

This entire thing feels like a dream as Alastor stands, untucks his shirt, and takes off his belt.

“No,” you squeak out, your body and mind numb with pleasure.

Alastor freezes.

“I want to,” you practically beg, reaching out a hand.

The demon chuckles, his face in his hands.

Wait.

You sit up, your mind sobering as you whip your gaze across the room. “It’s not on fire?”

Alastor’s smile kicks up in a sideways grin, “It’s not.”

You shoot him a questioning look. You don’t know how this is happening, but you know Alastor had something to do with it. A rune? Some sort of mark in his Voodoo?

The demon answers your question with a chuckle as he climbs atop you. Alastor’s arms frame your face, his smile lighting up yours as he towers over you. His locks were like a halo of red around his face, his antlers a few prongs larger than you remember.

You’re so captivated by a half shirtless Alastor towering over you that you completely forget what you were supposed to do.

He pauses, his breath hot on your lips, “well?”

Well? Oh! Yes.

Hesitantly, your fingers find his belt as you continue what he had started. Your heart is ramming against your chest, your hands suddenly very sweaty. Get it together. He’s made you orgasm twice now. You’re sitting beneath him, in his bed, wearing nothing. Why were you so nervous?

You paused at the button of his pants.

“Al, I… I’ve never…” You met his gaze and hoped your eyes communicated the rest of what you were trying to say.

His cheeks turned pink, “We move at your pace, mon couer.”

Your heart skipped a beat. He was giving you time for your mind to catch up with the rest of you.

First, thing’s first…

You force your fingers to move again and help him slide his shirt off. And then you don’t want to stop touching him. Alastor was so soft, the short fur along his torso and arms like the down coat of a fawn. It was longer around his chest, producing a fluff you were already making plans for. To spend your night sleeping on his chest…

You traced his scars, each old and grey, marking his beautiful ashen skin. Then you found the mark over his chest, the run of Transformare just over his heart. You traced the outline of it.

“My favorite one,” he smiled.

And that gave you the bravery to continue on. You shot up, your lips crashing into his as your fingers undid the button of his pants and began to tug down. Alastor laid you back out as he pulled off his pants and underwear in one swoop.

You gasped as the demon pressed onto you, his cock perfectly lining up with your folds. The demon ground his hips against you, coating his shaft in your juices, hitting your throbbing clit. Your mouth went dry at the sheer size of him. You wanted him, wanted every glorious inch of him in you.

And then you're drowning again as he kisses you, his thrusts harder and faster as he grinds atop you, Alastor the ocean wave which was pulling you deeper and deeper. And you gladly drowned. He rocks back on his hips, stealing the heat of his cock before he lines himself up, his tip pressing against your opening, and pauses.

He was waiting for you.

In response, you wrapped your legs around his thin waist. They sat perfectly at the crest of his hips, almost as if they were made for you, for this. The demon growled as you kissed him, and you laughed.

And then he slid in. And in. And in. Until his hips were flush with yours. Your nails dug into the muscle of his back, making the demon growl.

Jesus, he had your eyes watering; it was like your body forgot how to breathe. He stilled, letting you adjust.

“Are you alright?” Alastor was out of breath, his voice raspy and absent of static, as his forehead found yours, clearly bombarded with the same wave of emotions you had been.

You nod as you pull him down on top of you. You wanted to feel Alastor, to feel his warmth, to feel his chest heaving against yours, to feel the muscles in his abbs as he thrusts into you. You have been starved for touch for so long that you have become desperate - desperate and greedy.

The demon moved slowly, pulling out slightly before pressing back in. His hips stuttered, “Satan,” he choked. “You’re tight.”

Again, he pulled back, then thrust in. The demon fisted one hand in your hair, the other coming to rest behind your thigh, giving himself leverage as he moved.

And as Alastor moved, his forehead on yours as you kissed, your breath building as you huffed through your noses, it became easier. It became pleasurable. It became faster, deeper.

It made you hungry for more.

“Fuck me,” you breathe between moans. “Fuck me, Alastor.”

A fire sparks in his eyes as his hands sink to your ass. The demon has your legs wrapped around him, and off the bed, your back pressed against the wood head rest as he fills you. Every inch, every hard ridge. Alastor’s teeth find your bottom lip, and he bites down as he slams into you with enough force, that the bed shakes.

Your moan is on the edge of a scream as blood fills your mouth. Alastor’s tongue laps at your lips, at your tongue, devouring the tangy liquid flooding your mouth and dribbling down your chin. The cannibal is determined not to waste a single drop as he feasts. You wrap your arms around his neck and hang on for dear life, your nails digging into his skin, just exciting him even more.

There is nothing gentle about the Radio Demon - no wonder he wanted to wait, no wonder he held himself back all those nights ago. He surely would have split you in two had you begged him to try.

But it would have been so worth it.

Your veins sang beneath your skin with the build of your climax, your heart beating in time with Alastor’s.

The demon released a hand to find your clit, circling as he thrusts. Immediately, you’re toeing the edge, your moans choked screams, as Alastor picks up the pace, sweat licking your bodies.

Alastor’s claws dig into the meat of your hip as pulls you down on him with every thrust, as he buries himself over and over again, the tip of his cock brushing the entrance of your cervix. You’re there, you’re at the edge…

“I’m close!” You breathe, every edge of you burning with pleasure. You’re so wet, you’re dripping down his balls as he sinks into you.

Not yet. No. You want to linger. You want to savor this. Every second of it.

And then Alastor’s lips find your neck, and he bites. The pain sends you over the edge, and you scream as the orgasm tears through your body. Alastor continues to pound into you, hard and fast, drawing out your pleasure. The demon grows harder, more frenzied with his movements, and then he’s roaring as he slams into you to the hilt, spilling inside you.

Alastor growls as his dick throbs against your clenching inner walls, milking him of every last drop. And then Alastor slows as he collapses into you, his head resting on your shoulder as he slowly thrusts in and out, his body spasming with pleasure.

And then there is silence, interrupted only by your panting breaths.

When your souls finally return to your bodies, you take Alastor’s face in yours. The dreamy, drunk look on his face has your heart soaring. No one has ever seen Alastor like that. You’ve earned the privilege to see him like this.

Alastor rocks in and out of you in slow, languid thrusts, like he’s savoring the feeling of you wrapped around him.

“Mon couer,” he breathes before he kisses you, long and slow.

You giggle, just as high as him, “mine.”

The demon freezes, giving you a look as if he didn’t hear you right.

“I choose you, too, Alastor. You’re mine.” You beam before kissing him. His mouth is unmoving for a second before he kisses you back. The demon digs his hips into you, sinking his head in till it hits your cervix - you swear to God!

The demon lays you back down on the bed.

“I’m yours,” he smiles against your lips, and then he swallows your gasp as he thrusts again. “I’m yours, mon couer, only yours.”

Alastor’s mouth trails down your jaw, across the bruises forming on your throat. You moan when his tongue finds the bite, the mark he used to claim you, the soreness that now represents everything. The demon uses his tongue to outline the mark, the golden blood now clotting.

With the taste of you on his lips, the demon was growing hard again, his dick throbbing inside of you as he stroked slowly.

This time is different. This time Alastor is slow, his fingers bunching in your hair but not tearing, his lips kissing you deeply, his mouth drunk on your taste. You breathed Alastor in as your tongue lazily played with his, as your hips moved in time with his strokes.

This wasn’t just him claiming you. This was Alastor promising you. This was him pledging to be yours and only yours, to be all the things he was scared of being, to devote his very being in honor of you.

And you could feel it. You could feel his growing desire. It wasn’t just in the pounding of his heart or the way his breath quickened as it mixed with yours but somehow sank into your bones.

If your magic could be summoned as it had whenever Alastor’s lips were on yours, the colors of your magic would be singing right now. Their masterpiece a demonstration of the vow he was making you.

You let your hands wander over every hard ridge of him. Outlining his pecs, the defined abbs on his torso, the strength in his shoulders. To his cut jawline and soft hair. You played with his locks as Alastor continued to thrust in you, your quick breaths turning to moans.

It was slow, it was passionate, it was intense.

Alastor breaks the kiss to decorate your neck, marking his territory, the bruises proof that this was real. Your gaze falls to where the two of you are connected, his shaft pulling away with both of your juices, turning his dick white with cum.

Oh, God the way he filled you with his cum…

You clench around him at the memory of the feeling, making the demon’s hips stutter, eliciting a growl that vibrates from his chest through yours.

You can’t help but smile as you kiss him. The power you had over him, over his body…

Alastor responds by thrusting harder.

CRACK!

The bed breaks, and the next thing you know, the two of you are rolling off the side. Alastor takes the brunt of the fall, pulling you into him as his back smacks against the wooden floor.

“Al, are you -?”

The demon interrupts your question with a laugh. It was so genuine and absent of his usual radio static that it catches you off guard before you’re laughing right along with him.

And then the two of you realize something: you were on top.

You blink at each other a moment, registering what this means, but Alastor doesn’t make an attempt to move you. Instead, he grabs your hips and guides you up and down his cock. It’s awkward at first - you’ve literally never done this before - but you eventually find a rhythm that has the two of you moaning all over again.

Regardless of the position, Alastor was still in control, which was a relief - your lack of experience was frankly embarrassing.

You dig your fingers into his fluff, using it as leverage as you bounce up and down. You can feel the wetness pooling out of you and dribbling down his cock.

From this position you could fully appreciate Alastor, disheveled and overwhelmed by you. His chest is heaving, his hips bucking up into you, deepening the muscles on his torso.

God, it was a beautiful sight.

The demon reaches up and wraps his fist in your hair before using it to pull your lips down to his. His claws dig into your other hip as his thrusts quicken, as he pounds into you.

And then he’s spilling into you all over again, his warm seed filling you and then sliding down his cock. The orgasm surprises you, overtaking your body without warning.

God, the feeling of being filled was enough to drive you over the edge.

You collapsed on Alastor, your face in the fluff of his chest as he thrust, your orgasm milking every ounce of his seed.

And when his hips finally slowed, Alastor collapsed fully, his hands coming to rest in your hair and on your back. The two of you lay there for a long time, not minding the mess you had just made, your minds and bodies too numb to fully comprehend anything but the aftershock of pleasure.

You breathed him in, letting his scent of forest and musk prolong your ecstasy. The room danced in the flavor of warm vanilla, evidence of what you had just done wafting out the slightly ajar back door. The curtains were down, so no one could see in.

When Alastor somehow found the ability to move again, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Mon couer?”

“Hmm?” You hummed, dreamily snaking your head up to meet his half-lidded gaze through your curtain of hair. You were sleepy and oh-so-content. You could fall asleep right there on the floor and sleep for days if he let you.

“How about a bath?” As if on cue, the sound of a faucet turning creaked from the bathroom. Running water could be heard echoing through the tile walls.

You giggled, nodding.

Slowly, Alastor pulled out of you. You whimpered at the sudden empty feeling, the loss of warmth that was purely Alastor filling your core. It was a feeling you were instantly missing.

The demon carried you to the tub, now steaming and filled with bubbles. He gently sat you in before climbing in behind you, letting you lay against him as he washed you.

The fluff on his chest was like a pillow as you lay there, drowning in the scent of his shampoo. It was like being on sensory overload, except the only sense was Alastor.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Alastor took his time massaging your limbs, easing the tension from your muscles. He inspected every healed cut and new scar he had never seen before until he was satisfied that you were fine and really and truly in one piece. He even took the time to wash your hair, his claws scraping against your scalp as he scrubbed. You hummed in delight, bringing a genuine smile to Alastor’s face.

The wash was more cathartic for Alastor than it was for you. For him, he needed this. After you almost died, he needed to see you be strong again. He needed to see you at your highest before he could heal from seeing you at your lowest. And, as if to solidify it in his brain that this wasn’t a dream, and you were really and truly alive, he needed to inspect you himself - and he also did get satisfaction at seeing the new marks which he had left on your body. The slowly darkening bruises and bites he had left behind…

The narcissist…

When he finished with you, he washed himself. You were practically asleep when he finished - although he did do his best not to disturb you as much as he could. The demon slowly slid out from behind you to grab you a towel. It took some coaxing, but he finally got you to stand on your own as he wrapped you in the soft cotton.

When you returned to bed, you found it perfectly made, with fresh sheets and fluffed pillows. The foot on his bed frame had snapped during your endeavors, but Alastor had it repaired while you bathed. You’d sleep soundly in a level bed tonight.

Soft jazz clicked on as Alastor tucked you in before sliding in himself. You curled into the demon, who had crawled into bed with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, immediately seeking his warmth.

Alastor rarely slept, but today was an exception…

With your head on his chest, your feet tangled in his, and his arms wrapped around you, you felt complete.

And the two of you dozed off into slumber to the words of Nat King Cole’s “Unforgettable.”

Okay, Hoteliers, why did I do this? Why not have Alastor never attack Mikaela in the first place? Why didn’t he just drop the knife and kiss her, and then I write a chapter filled with some seriously overdo smut? Because there was still one thing about Alastor that had not been challenged yet - in the fanfic and in canon. Yes, Alastor had fallen for the reader, but there was still this giant thing hanging over their heads that they did not address, which needed to be hit upon in order for the two of them to finally accept their feelings for each other. What would Alastor do if something/someone he loved more than power stood in the way of him achieving it? You, as Mikaela, already made that decision when you killed Eve - you’d do anything. Yet, deep down, you knew you couldn’t do it to Alastor - you, as the reader, had decided that without me even having to write it. You were literally screaming in the comments about it as you read chapter thirteen.

Yet Alastor had never been asked that question. So we needed to see what he would do. Given the opportunity, he needed to be forced to choose, and he needed to see that that choice would have consequences. That's why I needed Alastor to stab you, to go after you, to draw blood. Why go to such lengths? Because Alastor is a stubborn, stubborn man, and changing him would not be an easy thing to do, especially when it is something so central to his character. I mean, he's a cannibalistic murderer; how much more literal does Viv need to get about his desire to consume power? Being forced to choose was not only about you but about him as well. In the writing business, we call it ~character development~.

So no, I couldn't simply have Alastor drop the knife and whisk you away into a fairytale. This moment, this part of Alastor, posed an obstacle for me: a giant wall preventing me from continuing on. I needed Alastor to grow, to unlock that part of himself that let you in, choose you over everything else, and for him to accept that.

Don't worry, we still have more to go - they still have to learn why they are both at the Hotel, what their involvements are with Lilith, and what Mikaela’s big endgame actually is, but that stuff is trivial compared to their cannibalistic desire for power - especially considering Mikaela is Roo, the embodiment of it. I mean, that’s how this fanfic all started, right? “Power is of two kinds. One is obtained by the fear of punishment and the other by acts of love. Power based on love is a thousand times more effective and permanent than the one derived from fear…” And I think it’s important to remember that because it will be a theme through to the end of this fic.

<3 Stay smutty Hoteliers - smut is coming next chapter. You’ve earned it ;)

-> Chapter Fifteen

Tagged Hoteliers (Let me know if you want to be added!):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @mommymilkers0526 @goyablogsstuff

@eris-norwega @missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @sillywormtrixareforkids @its-a-dam-blue-brick

@cloverresin20 @blue-bird251 @speedycoffeedelight @littlebluefishtail @saw1987

@mopeyghost @beelz3bub @fraugwinska @minamilinaqueen @demoarah

@diffidentphantom @divineknightmare @animecrazy76 @sleepykittycx @graunta

@reath-solia @satansdaughter123 @mysticatto @freshonyourpages

144 notes · View notes

makeyoumine69 · 4 months

Text

Before You Fade (Memory Reboot x3)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

SUMMARY: After moving to Chicago, you thought you had left your former life behind. But when you receive a mysterious invitation one day, you realize you still have unfinished business in New York.

CONTAINS: Smut, angst, mutual pining, obsessive behavior, desperate & sensual foreplay, anal fingering, penetrative & oral sex, biting, spanking, creampie, masturbating, mild praise kink & degradation, body worship, pet names, dirty talk, misogyny, swearing, gaslighting, manhandling, mind manipulation, cheating.

WORDS: 6.8k

SONG REC: VØJ, Narvent — Before You Fade

A/N: Hello everyone! A new chapter is finally here! This story has me in a chokehold! I highly recommend you to read the first chapter and the second one for a better understanding and as always I hope you like it! If you find any mistakes regarding gn!reader, please let me know!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST].

A new city, a new life, new people and new opportunities—all this was supposed to bring some relief, to ignite a new flame in your chest, to set a new goal, to make you forget everything that happened in New York. It was supposed to, but it never did.

After a few months of living in Chicago and working in a prestigious financial corporation, you began to notice that your life now looked like a vicious circle and the days blurred into one long day that never ended. That was probably the price you paid for running away, for being too cowardly to face the truth that what you shared with Bateman was not just a history—it was a goddamn passion and obsession that most people could only dream of. But you, you were not like them. For you, this obsession was like a plague, a disease, and you were sure that Patrick felt the same way. Still, the words he said that day were like scars on your mind. The poor guy really thought that you would stay with him, that you would miss a chance to reboot your life. Since you couldn't reboot the memory, this was the only way out.

Was that it?

The sleek interior of your office greeted you with the invigorating aroma of fresh coffee waiting for you on your desk made by your lovely assistant—a handsome guy named Vincent—he was quite modest but smart and sometimes you even thought you should have asked him out for something more serious than coffee. But then again, the shitty memories kept ruining all those weak impulses to try something new.

Sighing, you closed the door behind you and took off your coat, placing it on the nearby hanger and glancing at the beautiful bouquet of flowers on the small coffee table next to the big black couch. These flowers…you bought them for yourself just because you wanted them, not because you felt lonely or…

'Fuck, not again,' you shook your head, not giving yourself a chance to spiral again, knowing how quickly that could happen. Today was the worst day for self-digging, because you were going to present a final plan for a future quarter, and you couldn't fail. Not today, not ever. The moment you finally settled into your favorite armchair, you heard a soft knock at the door. You knew who it was even before you let the guest in.

Vincent, smiling as if he saw the brightest star in the midnight sky, opened the door and entered with cat-like grace. "Are you busy?"

Embarrassed by the man's persistent gaze, you folded your hands and leaned down on the table. "No, not really, I just came," you brought the coffee cup closer and wrapped your elegant fingers around its handle. "…and realized I have the best secretary in the world."

A sonorous chuckle rumbled from Vincent's chest. "Oh, you're too kind," the man walked into the office holding a pile of documents. "I brought you some fresh correspondence you might like to see."

"Uh, yes, thank you. Put it here, please."

The brown-haired secretary complied, and soon there was a large white envelope in front of you, next to the documents. There was something odd about having such a large envelope of mail since it was almost the end of the work week, but you just tapped your fingers on the smooth surface of the table in a slightly skeptical manner before turning your attention back to Vincent, who was standing in front of the desk, ready to assist you with anything you might ask.

"Anything else I can do?"

"I think that's about it for now," you answered, staring at the envelope from time to time out of the corners of your ears, sipping the hot drink and letting the warmth flow down your tensed body. "Oh, did you hear that our CEO won't be at the presentation today?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, he…has some unfinished business in LA…with a hot blonde chick."

You both laughed in unison, everything was clear as a bell. "Well, that sounds important." Vincent crossed his arms over his chest, the Oliver Peoples O'Malley glasses sitting perfectly on the bridge of his nose, though you tried not to focus on that little detail that constantly reminded you of Bateman. As if he was the only yuppie to wear such glasses. "Have you…"

As soon as Vincent started to speak, your phone rang—the loud sound even startled you a bit, but you quickly shook yourself and picked up the call, being extremely curious who could be calling you like this. "I'm listening."

"(Y/n)!" Paul Allen's cheerful timbre came from the other end of the line, making you almost jump in your seat.

"P-Paul?" You gave Vincent a worried look, and your nervousness seemed to affect your assistant as well, because he didn't look relaxed anymore. "Did something happen?"

"What? No! Of course not," Allen chuckled, and a female giggle could be heard in the background. "I'm calling to ask when we can see each other in New York…"

A noise grew louder, making it difficult to hear Paul's words, so you had to close one of your ears and furrow your brows in irritation. "Where are you calling from? A brothel? I can't fucking hear a word!"

Such a remark made Vincent laugh a little shyly, but then the man bowed his head and retreated in his professional, polite manner.

"Can you repeat…" You began to speak at the same time as Paul.

"…so when can we meet?"

Grumbling, you rolled your eyes. "Why did you even decide that I would visit New York?"

"Didn't you get the invitation to the wedding?" Paul's question made you feel something heavy in your stomach.

"Wedding? Who's wedding?"

There was a moment of silence that left you so nervous that you didn't even notice a pencil in your hands that was about to break because of how desperately you were squeezing it.

"Halberstram…" another pause, then another female snicker. All of it made you sick. "He's marrying a hardbody named… Cecilia, if I'm not mistaken."

Somehow you felt strangely relieved.

"But it's been several months since I quit, why was I invited?"

"Gee, (y/n)," now it was time for Paul to grumble a bit. "You think a few months are enough to forget you?" He laughed shamelessly into the phone. "Okay, okay, maybe I chose the wrong time to call you. But seriously, I'm looking forward to hanging out with you when you get here."

"Argh, fine," you muttered, finally letting go of the pencil only to grab the annoying envelope. "I'll call you later, today is really a fucked up day for me."

When you heard nothing but women laughing, you just hung up. 'God, it's only ten in the morning and Allen's already having fun. What am I doing wrong with my life?' You vented to yourself, twisting the envelope in your hands as if you were about to open Pandora's box.

With a deft move, you pulled out a postal knife and carefully cut open the envelope to gain access to its contents. Time stood still for you as your hands involuntarily reached for a beautifully decorated card that could definitely be a wedding invitation. After a short exhalation, you opened it and it took you several minutes to process what you had just seen, as you thought you were hallucinating.

The card had the following text:

“The honor of your presence is requested at the marriage of

Evelyn Arwyn Williams And Patrick Pierce Bateman

Saturday, the twentieth of October nineteen hundred and eighty-seven at twelve o'clock in the afternoon

Ziegfeld Ballroom 141 W 54th St New York, NY 10019.”

The card fell from your hands without any resistance. You felt dizzy, even nauseous, as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the office and you were literally suffocating.

'How dare…' you cursed to yourself, grabbing the collar of your blouse in a feint attempt to unbutton it from the burning itch on your skin, '…you…fucking bastard!'

Dazed, you stood up faster than you should have, making your head spin and nearly knocking you over if you hadn't leaned on the back of your chair. You need some fresh air or a sip of heavy alcohol or a fucking gram. Something that will take you out of this situation, even if only for a moment.

"Boss?" Vincent's worried voice came out of nowhere. "Are you okay?"

Panting, you shot an angry glance at your table, then at your lovely assistant, whose bright eyes were like two glowing beacons. "Vincent, listen," you stammered, unable to find the right words. "Can you please order me a ticket," you closed your eyes for a second, counted to ten and gripped the back of your chair. "…to New York."

"New York? Something wrong?"

"N-no," you managed to laugh off your tension and stop grazing the leather under your fingernails. "It's just… seems like I have some deals to settle in New York, some old ones I thought were closed."

"Only one ticket or…"

"I need a ticket in both directions, of course," you mumbled nervously before taking a coffee and finishing it in one go, thankfully it became less hot. "I won't be there for long," you said as if you were trying to convince yourself, desperately trying. It was only when you met Vincent's eyes that you noticed his sad look and realized that you might have upset him. "Uh, I really wish I could take you with me… but I want someone to look after things here and…"

The dark-haired man smiled sympathetically, and that helped to calm you a little. "Oh, please, don't apologize; it's my job," he said, visibly relaxed, considering his casual pose with his hands in the pockets of his Armani trousers. "I'm just worried about you, I don't want anything bad to happen."

Slightly embarrassed, you couldn't help but grin sincerely. "Ah, Vincent, you're such a sweetheart," you rumbled with undisguised amusement. "Everything will be fine. I promise, you have nothing to worry about."

"All right, then," Vincent pulled himself up and opened the door. "I'll let you know when I have information about your flights."

After that you were left alone again. The muffled din of the city outside the office could be heard faintly whenever you walked past the windows, restlessly making circles around the room.

'Maybe I should just ignore it? Maybe it's just a bad joke and I should call Tim and ask him about it?' You covered your face with your palms before sighing tiredly. Once again, Bateman was forcing you to make strange decisions and you hated it. You hated him, you hated the wedding that hasn't even happened yet, and you hated yourself for being so easily overwhelmed.

No way in hell did you expect to visit New York too soon after you left the city and everything that happened there behind your back the moment you took your seat in an airplane to Chicago. And who would dare to judge you for that? Right, no one but you.

The wedding was supposed to be tomorrow, so you had some time to prepare for… for what? Yawning, you stretched your legs in the uncomfortable backseat of the taxi, the driver asking you where you were from and if you had ever been to New York. And at some point you felt sad because you really wanted to say no, you haven't. But you did, and only God knew how hard it had been for you to survive the past months of constant self-digging and dead-end conversations with your vicious subconscious.

Thanks to Vincent, you didn't have to worry about where to stay in New York, as he booked you a luxury suit at the Plaza Hotel. Ah, Vincent…that boy was so sweet that sometimes you could even believe in supernatural beings, as if life was trying to make amends for the unpleasant situation with Bateman.

Sitting on the big bed, you tried your best not to have a panic attack or, even worse, go crazy and empty the minibar, drinking as much as you could as if tomorrow would never come. 'Gosh, I'd sell my soul to see Bateman's face if I came to the wedding being completely drunk.’ With a silly smile on your face, you kept dreaming about some nonsense to distract yourself until the night came and you had to get some sleep before the wedding.

The next day started terribly when some random maid came early and mixed up your suit with someone else's. In the end, you couldn't say that you were rested enough, but you didn't have much time and you still had to come up with an idea for your outfit. 'Should I wear something extravagant or perhaps something more modest?' You spun around in front of the large mirror, the clock was ticking and that sound was really getting on your nerves.

"Uh, to hell with it…" you cursed to yourself and finally picked out a blue Gucci suit that fit your figure perfectly. "I don't want to overshadow the groom."

Winking at your own reflection, you added a few accessories before leaving the Plaza, where a beautiful Cadillac was waiting for you. A driver opened the back door for you, smiled politely, and at some point you even began to think that this day wouldn't be as shitty as it promised to be.

By the time you arrived at the Ziegfeld Ballroom, it was already quite crowded, with many luxury cars lining the street, delivering more and more stylishly dressed guests. With a heavy heart, you held an invitation in your hand and fought the urge to tear it apart and tell the driver to drive away. The sudden appearance of Courtney and Luis in your vision pulled you out of your doubts. 'So that bastard even invited Courtney,' you hummed and slowly opened the door to get out of the car.

All the way to the Ziegfeld Ballroom, you tried to be careful not to bump into anyone you didn't really want to interact with, like Timothy, Craig, David, Paul… Even though you were sure it was going to happen one way or another, you still didn't want to face reality too soon.

Inside the huge hall, you stopped near the long banquet table decorated with white and red roses—the whole style of the wedding screamed Evelyn. Nothing special, though, Bateman probably didn't care about such things as wedding decorations.

Taking a glass of champagne, you moved deeper into the hall and watched the guests split into groups. Still, you were lucky because you didn't see any familiar faces, even Luis and Courtney got lost somewhere among the faceless yuppies and their dates. Everything seemed fine, you had a plan to see the couple get married and then… slip away? It was such a stupid plan, but at least you had one.

Puzzled, you told yourself to leave all thoughts to the latter, when you wouldn't be so vulnerable, staying in the middle of the ballroom and watching the several waitresses bringing more and more appetizers. You were even about to try one of them when you accidentally noticed Tim and Craig coming your way. Trembling, you almost dropped the glass, but somehow you managed to put it on the nearby table, startling a waitress with your erratic behavior, but you didn't care.

As fast as you could, you rushed in a different direction from the group of your former friends, desperately searching for any room you could get into. Your pulse pounded in your eardrums, forcing you to open the first door and enter.

Breathing heavily, you pressed your back against the door and closed your eyes for a second, only to open them in a blood-chilling shock as you met a pair of hazel, dark eyes as bewildering as your own.

"You?" Bateman's startled voice bounced off the walls of the small bathroom, his face frozen in a confused grimace as if he couldn't believe his eyes. "What the fuck are you doing in here?"

"Me? You invited me, you fool!" You barked back, pulling away from the door and moving toward the brown-haired man. "Have you forgotten already?"

Patrick looked absolutely stunning in his wedding tuxedo, the black bow tie being the cherry on top of his impeccably styled appearance. For a brief moment, Bateman studied your angry expression, his thick eyelashes batting like bird wings.

"It was Evelyn," he replied curly, standing still. "How delusional you must be to think I would invite you?"

Crossing his arms, Patrick smiled, and at first glance he seemed calm, but his slightly trembling lips betrayed him. With a soft chuckle, you moved closer until you noticed a beautiful bride's bouquet—a combination of roses again.

"So did Evelyn get what she wanted? I can see her in every little detail of this wedding. The Ziegfeld Ballroom was her idea too?"

The man sighed wearily and rubbed the bridge of his nose briefly. "No, my mother insisted."

"Oh," you beamed, carefully taking the bouquet in your noticeably shaking hands. "How sweet."

With a quick movement, Patrick snatched the flowers out of your hands and placed them back on the bathroom counter. "I had to walk around with this bouquet like an idiot, because I didn't even see Evelyn all this time!"

Such an outburst made you pause for a moment. "Relax, Bateman," you pretended to cheer him up. "Soon you'll be a family man."

The words forced him to clench his teeth as if they caused him physical pain. "Why did you come here, (y/n)?"

"Do you have any ideas?"

The distance between the two of you became smaller and smaller, melting like ice under the burning sun. You didn't even notice that every time he spoke, you couldn't take your eyes off his plump lips, his perfectly shaped chin that you wanted to touch, the way his eyebrows curled… God, you shouldn't have come here in the first place…

"I'm not gonna play your games anymore," Patrick suddenly blurted out, pulling you out of your lewd dreams. "If you came here just to get on my nerves, I'll tell security to kick you out."

"Woah, woah," you jerked back as Bateman stepped closer, your foreheads almost bumping into each other. "You seem very tense, marriage is a stressful thing, right?"

You continued to back away until you hit the wall behind you, and in the next second, the man caught you between his arms, placing them on either side of your trembling little form.

"Bateman?" You asked him breathlessly.

Frowning, he leaned down. You thought he was going to kiss you, but he just gasped and turned away. "I hate you," those words hurt you more than you could ever imagine. "Do you see these hands?" He asked, raising his hand and bringing it closer to your face. "I could break your neck so easily and watch your dead body fall to the ground."

A creeping fear rippled through your chest as he spoke. "You're kidding, right?" You tried to make a joke out of it, but as he tightened his grip around your throat like an iron ring, a muffled whimper escaped your tense lungs. "Ahh, w-what…"

Instead of actually hurting you, the dark-haired man brought you closer, so that your lips finally collided and the way you kissed was beyond any normalcy of kissing. Growling like a beast, Patrick literally bit into your trembling lips, almost tearing the soft flesh away, his grasp on your neck never loosening, only tightening when you dared to hug his shoulders, snuggling against him.

"Fuck," you cursed as he pulled away to nip at your neck. "You… scared the shit out of me! You psy…"

His hand abruptly covered your mouth, not letting you finish what you were about to say. "You came here because you couldn't forget me, huh? Because you are so fucking miserable in Chicago and no one gives a fuck about you?"

With your eyes shut tight, you whimpered against his palm at the faint physical contact with his hard groin. It was already too much, but then you heard a soft click of the door lock. 'Am I really going to die?' The thought alone made your knees weak. Meanwhile, Bateman was nuzzling against your cheek, inhaling your scent like an animal in rut, and you couldn't do anything, trapped in the strong arms you'd been dreaming about all these months.

The question he asked hung in the air for some time, even after Patrick removed his hand, waiting for your answer, you couldn't speak because… he was right. But to admit it would mean that you had lost. Lost in your own game.

"Why did you run away from me?" The man asked unexpectedly, his whole mood changing from wild to sad, bordering on despair. "Tell me!"

"I thought it would be better for both of us, okay?" You hated yourself for not finding better words, but it was so damn hard to think in a situation like this. "And I still think so."

With a wry grin, the man distanced himself a bit. "And that's why you're here with me… in some random bathroom… in the middle of my wedding?"

It did look familiar. That fleeting moment you gave in to temptation in the Tunnel that changed your life forever and for which you're still paying the price.

"You don't love her, do you?" You didn't even recognize your own voice.

"It's none of your business," Bateman replied before lowering his palm to your hip and squeezing it. "Now get on your knees, I don't have much time."

The audacity of this man was unbearable. Embarrassed but extremely aroused, you stifled a moan from the way he stroked your ass, encouraging you to obey. Biting your lower lip, you remembered how delicious this man tasted—a memory that haunted you every day—you should have resisted, you should have just stopped everything here and now, because there would be no happy ending.

‘I should have, but I can't,’ these six words flashed through your cloudy mind as you slid down the wall to meet the visible bulge in Patrick's tight pants.

"Good, good," he praised, casually unfastening his jacket and then his belt, just as you saw his white suspenders hugging his shoulders so deliciously that you had to hold your breath. "God, if I knew Evelyn was going to give me a wedding present like that, I'd postpone the wedding."

"You're a sick man," you murmured, but he just chuckled. "I hope you know that?"

"So are you.”

There was a small lounge chair in the other corner of the bathroom, and the moment Bateman saw it, you knew what he would do. Smirking mischievously, the man lifted you up with practiced ease and moved you to the chair, sitting down and spreading his toned legs so you could take your place between them. Patrick used all the self-control he had left to undo his pants without actually tearing them apart, his erection jutting out the moment he lowered the confines of his garments.

This scene made you lick your lips with undisguised hunger. Slowly, you leaned down between his wide-open legs and teasingly took his swollen tip into your mouth, then pulled away. "You're going to marry a woman who can't suck you off better than me, aren't you?"

Instead of taunting you back, the man grabbed the back of your head and made you take him deeper until your nose rubbed against his thick pubic hair, but it was still not enough, his cock was too big.

"Ahhh, what's that? Your mouth is too small to take me in?" Bateman commented cheekily as he watched your eyes get wet as you gagged. "You can only use it to say shit, but when it comes to real business…" the man pushed into your mouth again, fixing your head in one place. "…it doesn't seem to be useful."

"Mhmm," you tried to slip out of his grip, but he held you deadly tight. At one point you even wanted to use your teeth, but fortunately a loud commotion from outside attracted Patrick's attention and he let you go. "You…you are so pathetic…" you coughed several times, understanding that your end was near. "Even in a moment like this…you can't keep quiet! Like a fucking chatterbox…"

You wanted to say something else, but the way Bateman's dick pressed against your cheek, the weight of it, the warmth, it was all too overwhelming for both you and him, considering how tense Patrick's face was when you let his erection slide along your jaw as you descended lower to tease his sensitive balls with your tongue.

"Oh-fuck…" The man gasped, tilting his head back to lean against the wall and mumbling something incoherently.

Ashamed of what you were doing, you paused for a second, wondering what consequences awaited the two of you in the future. But all your attempts to stop yourself from falling into the abyss of consuming depravity were mercilessly crushed by reality— Bateman, all spread out for you, his cheeks blushing slightly as he enjoyed the oral pleasure you were giving him. This reality hit too hard. After all, you were enjoying that dick as well.

"So let it happen," you murmured suddenly before you wrapped your wet lips, covered with your saliva and his pre-cum, around his blushing shaft once more, your hands still rubbing his heavy sac. His skin was so soft there that you literally wanted to scream.

"W-what?" The man asked suddenly, as if he had just woken up from the enticing spell. "What are you talking about… are you so cock drunk that your brain can't function?"

At first, dirty talk like that could be really arousing, but now, hearing it for the hundredth time in a row, it was more amusing than hot. Without saying anything, you raised your eyes to him, your sneaky fingers delving deeper between his legs to stroke the rim of his tight muscles. A throaty moan escaped his suddenly dry lips. 'Cock drunk, huh?' You were proud of yourself, having a man like Patrick in a chokehold with your deliberate ministrations.

"Look at you, Bateman, you're such a naughty boy who loves it when someone plays with his ass?" You teased in between heavy gasps, as sucking such a huge cock was quite a challenge. "Does Evelyn even know about this?

Clenching his teeth, he tried to pull at your hair, but you dodged, pressing your finger persistently against his tight asshole before gently probing it, and you could swear to God, if heaven really existed, you wanted Patrick's moans to be music there.

"Uh, you're such a brat, babe," that nickname made you freeze. "This is going to end you one day…" His eyes rolled back into his head as you pushed your finger deeper into him, using a small amount of liquid on it as a lubricant. "(Y/n), you seem to need to bother your hands with something else…" you gave him a questioning look and he grinned in satisfaction, admiring the way his veiny, leaking dick slipped in and out of your lips. "Touch yourself… I know you want to…"

Fucking bastard. Why did he have to say it now? His words involuntarily triggered the memories of the lonely nights you spent in Chicago, masturbating almost every day when you thought of Patrick, telling yourself that he probably did the same. After all, maybe that was true?

As you pulled his cock out of your wet mouth, you quickly undid your belt and then your pants, pulling them down like an obstacle standing between you and mind-blowing pleasure. Locking your eyes with his walnut ones, you got up and tugged at the lapels of his jacket, forcing him to bend over so you could kiss him. Bateman didn't flinch, kissing you back, tasting himself on your lips and sucking on your tongue as you moaned shamelessly. Afterwards, you slipped a finger into his mouth and he licked it obediently before taking it inside.

"Oh, Patrick," you gasped before sitting down. "Why can't it be like this all the time?"

The brown-haired man smiled, exactly that smile that could make you commit a crime, how charming it was, it made you want to cry here and now.

Silently, Patrick leaned down to take your hand and place it between your legs, then he took your other hand and brought it back to his engorged dick, forcing you to resume your ministrations and from that moment on, you just let yourself go.

Rubbing your most sensitive spot, you whimpered and closed your eyes as you jerked him off, feeling the drops of his warm pre-cum dripping down your palm. Your orgasm was looming somewhere near, but it felt like the pleasure of your own hand was not enough. Bateman, as if he could read your mind, suddenly lifted you up by your shoulders, made you straddle him, and in the next moment you let him impale you on his thick cock, giving you the abundance you thought you had lost forever. A loud shriek echoed off the marble walls of the bathroom, a sound that made Patrick grin even more arrogantly as he knew that no one but him could make you feel complete.

He fucking knew it.

Groaning, the man grabbed your hips and set the pace, and at some point you found yourself riding him with pure abandon, literally bouncing on his beefy cock. "A-ahhh, Patrick, yes! Fuck-fuck me, just like that!" You mewled into his ear as he spanked your ass, squeezed your buttocks and spread them. "Mmhm…holy…shit…"

Another slap made you tremble on his lap. "So fucking needy for me," Bateman purred in a husky voice, his hair a mess, you managed to undo his bow tie and several top buttons to stroke his bulging chest. "Argh, you gonna make me cum, babe."

With that, he began to thrust his hips up, meeting yours with a shameless slapping sound. Dumbfounded, you were also so close, but you wanted him to fall first. Passionately rocking back and forth, you wrapped your hands around his neck, catching him off guard.

"You…you missed me just like I missed you…" That was more a statement than a question but the man didn't say anything, he just nodded with his eyes closed as he was completely lost in the embrace of incoming rapture. "SAY IT!" You nearly beat him into his chest. "Say…it…you bastard!"

Your crying compelled him to open his brown eyes which now were so dark, you could draw in them. "Yeah…" Each word was so hard for him to pronounce as his hips began to shake. "…I…I've missed you…too!" Patrick had to hide his face into the crook of your neck and before you knew it, the man bit into your soft flesh to the point of blood.

"A-AWWW, PATRICK!" You whimpered when you felt him exploding inside of you, shooting his hot load and sinking his teeth even deeper, holding you tightly in his strong arms.

"Shhh," the man strived to shush you, licking the fresh wound on your throat. "Just…take it…"

Still trembling, Bateman squeezed your hips so painfully, that you instinctively tried to pull away but he didn't allow you to. Sobbing, you cursed yourself for forgetting how rough he could be or…maybe you simply didn't know about this side of him? By the time Patrick stopped shaking, you were pumped with his seed till the brink, it was pouring out, staining the furniture beneath you, but no one cared. You sat like that for a moment until you began to move again as you still didn't reach your climax. With every buck of your hips against his, you hoped he would understand what you were asking for, but as soon as you reached out to kiss him, the man indifferently pulled away, tapping on your hip.

"Get up," Patrick commanded you, a bit annoyed.

"W-what?"

Bateman didn't repeat, taking you off from his lap before standing up on his feet and zipping his pants. Lost and confused, you sat on the floor, watching him sliding his hair back, opening the faucet and cleaning his face.

What the fuck was that?

"Bateman?" You stammered, finding yourself in the most humiliating position ever.

"You better clean yourself up, too," he commented briefly without looking at you, his voice drenched in venom. "You don't want the guests to think someone brought a hooker here, do you?"

Furrowing your brows, you ran a hand down your tear streaked cheek. "You're going to stop talking to me like that, or…"

"Or what?"

Anger and despair mixed together in a cocktail of pure madness. You wanted to fucking beat this man until he begged for mercy, but unfortunately, it was you sitting on the cold floor with your bare ass, his cum flowing shamelessly between your thighs.

"Fucking scumbag!" You yelled, picking up your shoe to throw it at him, but he quickly moved aside. "You're going to regret this…pathetic…"

Bateman started to say something but was distracted by several female voices. He checked himself in the mirror for the last time and finally spared you with his pitiful look. "You're going to walk around my WEDDING with my SEED inside you. Maybe you should look in the mirror and think about who's really pathetic in this room?"

And then he left.

Being left like that has set your body on fire, your nervous system was on the verge of bursting, but you managed to pull yourself together, gritting your teeth to suppress a loud scream. You felt nauseous, the bite on your neck was bleeding and aching, you were even afraid to touch it. Knowing that the door was now unlocked, you couldn't sit there any longer, so you gathered all the strength you had left to pull yourself up and get dressed. Then you slowly moved to the place where Patrick had been standing moments ago…but it felt like it had been so long ago, as time had stopped. After you cleaned yourself, you were really lucky to find a first aid kit, so you managed to clean your wound as well.

The ceremony had already begun when you finally decided to leave the bathroom. Dazed, you stumbled around like you were drunk. You couldn't remember how you found your way to the main event, where a large altar awaited the newlyweds.

All the guests were in their seats, and you moved stealthily, trying not to attract unwanted attention. The last row of chairs was almost empty, and when you suddenly recognized Timothy Bryce, lonely sitting there, you didn't hesitate to sit next to him.

"Well, well, well," you mused, a little cheered up. "Hello, Bryce."

The dark-haired man almost jumped in his seat when he saw you. "Jesus Christ, (y/n)? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Mmhm, Evelyn invited me."

Timothy visibly grew sadder. " Right…she probably tried to invite all the people in New York."

This sudden change in his demeanor confused you. "Tim? What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

The music began to play exactly when you opened your mouth to ask some more curious questions. Soon, the priest and several other people appeared in the alley. They walked up to the altar, everyone around was excited to see the main stars of this event. And as if that were not enough, some women in front of you began to cheer so loudly that you had to cover your ears.

"Stupid bitches." Tim grumbled as he sat back.

"Craig and David…where are they?"

Bryce pointed to other seats that were almost next to the altar. "They're with their chicks and they want the best seats."

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, avoiding craning your neck when it wasn't needed because it still hurt. "I see…and I thought they were doing coke without you."

"They did."

"Really? And what about you?"

The man sighed. "No coke is enough to get lost."

Now it was even stranger.

Another loud reaction from the guests signaled that something was starting to happen. You have to stand up a little to see the tall figure moving down the alley—it was Bateman, looking like he was not the one who fucked you in the small bathroom an hour ago. The way he smiled at the guests made you want to puke. Timothy noticed your trepidation and narrowed his eyes curiously.

"Are you okay?" He asked, not paying attention to what was happening near the altar. "You look unhealthy."

"I… I'm fine, it's just… it's very hot in here." You wanted to loosen your collar, but then you remembered the bite, so you had to sit like that.

In a few minutes the music changed and then Evelyn appeared, accompanied by her father who led her to the altar where Patrick was waiting for her. You held your breath and bit the inside of your cheek, but you forced yourself to look at the way Bateman took Evelyn's hands in his, touching them with absolute tenderness. A single drop of sweat trickled down your forehead and you probably intended to chew your cheek until it bled, but you didn't care. Nothing mattered now, nothing could hurt you, you felt like a ghost destined to walk the earth in search of its salvation. Only when the priest said that the newlyweds could kiss now, you turned away and so did Tim.

When the official part of the ceremony was over, Patrick and Evelyn walked out of the room towards an unknown destination, you and Bryce just sat there, not even talking, just sitting, as if you had nowhere to go.

"I'll get us some drinks." Timothy suddenly rumbled and stood up as quickly as the idea had occurred to him.

You didn't even have a chance to answer. You closed your eyes and rubbed your face tiredly when you heard a child's voice next to you. Turning sideways, you opened your eyes to see a little girl with a small bag in her hands. "Oh, hi…could you please repeat what I need to do?"

The girl smiled and opened the bag in an inviting gesture. "Pull your hand in and choose your destiny advice!" Giggling, you did as she said. Soon you were unfolding a small piece of paper. "What does it say?" The girl asked with undisguised curiosity.

After you rolled up the paper completely, you could read the text. "Find the courage to face your destiny." You swallowed nervously, on the verge of tears again.

"You didn't like it?" The little girl asked you, her face turning sad as well.

"No! Of course not, thank you very much!" You tried to smile. "You're so sweet, thank you!"

The girl suddenly hugged you. "Please don't be sad!"

And with that, the little child picked up her bag and ran to another person, doing the same thing she did to you. Nervously holding the piece of paper in your sweaty hands, you reread the text until several wet stains appeared on the paper. 'I am such a fool.' Wiping away tears, you heard several footsteps behind you. 'God, what if it's him?'

Excited, you turned to see Tim holding two cocktails. "They don't have anything strong."

You took the drink and watched Bryce sitting next to you. "Thanks Tim."

"No problem," he took a sip before looking at the piece of paper in your hands. "What is this?"

"Uh, nothing, just a childish game." You mumbled and took a sip of your cocktail.

After a minute of total silence, Timothy suddenly rested his arm on the back of his chair. "You know, maybe some coke is not such a bad idea after all," he looked at you, his dull eyes now glinting with a mischievous spark. "And since you're here… do you have any plans?"

"No," you replied frankly. "I… I have no plans, Bryce."

Nodding to himself, the man sat a little closer. "What about you coming to my place?"

Fidgeting in your chair, you wanted to turn to face him, but instead you hissed in pain, how crazy must the man be to leave such a mark? You crumpled the piece of paper in your fist and felt your nails digging into your skin, but still no pain came.

"Why not?" You finally replied, giving Bryce a smile he couldn't ignore as he smiled back.

'When one door closes, another always opens.' Was that what the taxi driver told you yesterday? A quote that had made you cringe in skepticism now played with different colors. But in the end, life was a good thing, even when you thought it was not.

Right?

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines #patrick bateman x male reader

179 notes · View notes