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brickmvster · 1 day

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An Old Flame (Leon Kennedy x Reader)

Synopsis: After getting hammered at a club in attempts to repair a broken heart, in your drunken stupor, you call the one person you were trying to get over. He takes you back to his place, taking care of you, and it's then you realize that your feelings for him never quite dissipated.

Tags: breaking up and making up/exes to lovers, angst, fluff, a little bit of emotional hurt/comfort that goes both ways, reconciliation

Warnings: Drinking, mentions of alcohol consumption

Word Count: 6,311

Author's Note: I'm alive 😭 writer's block sucks, but I'm slowly getting back into the swing of things, I think. I hope you guys enjoy this!! Notes and reblogs are appreciated of course. This has been proofread, but if any mistakes still managed to slip by me, apologies in advance, they're all mine.

I imagined RE4R Leon while writing this but please feel free to imagine any version of him you'd like!

(Read on AO3)

Sobbing in a dirty bathroom stall was definitely not how you envisioned your Friday night going.

The fact that you were also considerably drunk and could feel the liquid sloshing around inside of your belly, threatening to come up your throat and all over the floor, certainly didn't make matters any better.

You had come to the club with a group of friends who were all far more enthusiastic than you to be there. You never considered yourself much of a party person; and if you were going to attend a party, it was always a small one with people that you knew or were at least acquaintances with. At a dingy nightclub, you were surrounded by hundreds of sweaty strangers, and the music was so loud that you were sure you were going to be temporarily deaf for a while. To make the long story short – you weren't looking forward to coming here, but you regrettably let your friends drag you out of the comfort of your home.

The stupid leather pants your friends insisted you wore were feeling too tight. The bathroom was so stuffy and unbearably hot. There were two individuals in the stall next to you engaging in… a certain activity that you really didn't want to be around to hear. And the awful, terrible smell of puke was probably one of the worst things you've ever smelled in your entire life. It was all too much, every single one of your five senses being mercilessly attacked.

You shouldn't have let yourself get wasted; you knew that, and you mentally cursed yourself for such reckless behavior. But the longer you sat at the bar, completely by yourself and with your friends nowhere in sight, it was like no one was there to stop you. You still missed him and you thought alcohol would be better at numbing the pain than a tub of ice cream. Both were terrible items for getting over a heartbreak because they both only made you want to vomit, which is something you always learned the hard way.

That's how you ended up in a stall, tears freely running down your cheeks in a drunken haze. Your friends were on your mind, but more than anything you just wanted to be carried out of here. You grabbed your phone out of your bag and opened up your contacts. But for some reason, instead of clicking on one of your friend's names, you kept scrolling further down, subconsciously searching for that specific name that you knew you should've just deleted a long time ago.

You clicked on the little phone icon, and listened attentively to the ringing on the other end. It rang and rang and rang, and it went on for so long that it almost snapped you out of the very stupid thing you were doing, but then–

"Hello?"

Leon actually answered. And even after all this time, his voice was still the most soothing sound in the world. You cleared your throat before attempting to put together a sentence in response.

"Hey… I'm… I'm, uh, in a gross bathroom at, um… fuck, what was the name of this place…" you trailed off, your cheeks heating up out of embarrassment. You rubbed your forehead, trying to think despite how hard it was to do.

Leon was silent for a bit on the other end before speaking up.

"___? Are you okay? It's… really late."

You chuckled, a burp coming out alongside the sound. "I know, right? What the fuck am I even doing here?"

"___, listen to me. Are you alright? Why did you call?" Leon asked. You could just faintly hear shuffling on the other end, and the unmistakable sound of keys jingling, as if he was already gathering his things before you even told him the location. Your heart fluttered at that and even more warmth was sent to your cheeks.

"No. No, I'm not alright. I feel really fucking sick right now and I don't know where my friends are and I fucking hate being here and-"

"Slow down, sweetheart," Leon said. If the alcohol didn't kill you, the pet name that Leon apparently still liked using for you would.

Leon fell quiet on the line, almost as if suddenly realizing the word that had slipped from his mouth.

"Sorry, I mean– look, tell me where you are. Do you want me to come and get you?"

There was a voice in your head screaming at you to just say no. Your friends were a text message away. If they saw the state you were in they'd take you home in a heartbeat. You knew the right thing to do was apologize to Leon, hang up, and get your ass out of the bathroom stall to find your group. But the alcohol was clouding your judgment, and the rational part of you simply didn't exist right now. Going back to Leon's apartment was like reopening a wound that had just healed. But you couldn't deny how much you needed him in this moment, no matter how pathetic it sounded. He had been on your mind the entire time you were at the club, and hell, even if you had been sober you probably would have ended up back at his place anyway. Because you simply didn't know how to stay away from things that you walked away from.

"Yes. Please come and get me." You replied softly, your words shaky with sorrow and guilt, your voice cracking.

"On my way. Stay put, okay?"

____

"___?"

Your eyes opened slowly. The side of your mouth felt wet with drool. Your brows furrowed as you took in your surroundings.

"___, are you in here?"

Your eyes widened a bit more upon registering whose voice was calling for you. You immediately sat up, trying to adjust your hair and straighten your shirt – before quickly giving up, because you knew no amount of adjusting would make you look like less of a hot mess.

"In here," you called out, not bothering to get up and open the door as your legs felt like they didn't work and any small movement would've caused you to expel your breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

You saw two feet stop right in front of the door. You recognized those boots anywhere. They were your favorite pair.

"Are you… decent? Can I open the door?" Leon asked. You nodded, before quickly realizing he can't hear the movement of your head.

"Yeah," you replied weakly. Leon did just that, opening the stall door slowly.

God, you wanted the ground to swallow you up right then and there. You knew you looked terrible, disgusting even. Your ex, on the other hand, still looked as gorgeous as ever, with his dirty blonde hair slightly longer than the last time you saw it and prettily falling into his deep blue eyes. He was wearing a form fitting black shirt that left nothing to the imagination with a pair of blue jeans and his expensive brown coat.

You averted your gaze out of pure embarrassment. Leon had never seen you in this state and you wish he hadn't. You wished you could turn back time and call your friends instead of him.

Leon kneeled in front of you in the cramped space, gently lifting your chin and making you look him in the eyes. The action only made you feel smaller.

"Hey, let me see you," he started, his gaze softening as he observed you.

"What happened? Nobody-" his jaw clenched. "Nobody did anything to you, right?"

You shook your head. You didn't trust your voice enough to speak.

"Okay, good. You just drank too much?"

You nodded that time.

Leon seemed physically relieved, his shoulders relaxing a bit as he stood back up. He held out his hand.

"Can you stand?" He asked. You muttered out something that sounded like a "yes," taking his hand and slowly rising off the toilet seat. You almost toppled over, but Leon was there to steady you.

"Put your arm around my shoulder." He instructed, but he was already moving your arm for you. You gladly took ahold of his shoulder as his hand held your wrist; his other arm was wrapped around your waist, holding you firmly. The two of you walked out of the bathroom together, ignoring the stares from other club goers.

The both of you made outside, and the cool air was a pleasant sensation to your extremely warm body. Leon helped you into your car, handling you like you were made of glass, before getting into the driver's side himself. He buckled you up first, leaning over you to pull the strap across your chest. His breath was fanning across your face, and you felt your heart rate skyrocket. You gazed at him with tired eyes, and he returned the eye contact briefly, his eyes mostly unreadable, but definitely filled with concern no less.

Once he was buckled up himself, he took off, and you just closed your eyes, hoping and praying that the motion of the car wouldn't cause any sudden hurling.

The car ride was mostly silent; aside from the radio that Leon had turned up slightly, playing some rock song, you were far too exhausted to say anything. You didn't even know what to say, anyway, and it seemed like Leon didn't either.

Eventually, when he stopped at a light, he spoke for the first time in several long minutes. "Your friends – did they abandon you?"

You shook your head. "No… I was the one who split from them. Told them I wanted to be alone."

"But they didn't even check on you?"

You glanced at him and noticed his tense jaw had returned, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"They're all probably shit-faced, too." You replied dryly.

Leon sighed. "I… sure, I guess. Then that brings me to my next question… Why did you go over your limit? You could've put yourself in danger."

You shrugged, gazing out the window.

"I really don't know," you lied.

"God, ___, don't do something like this again. Please." Leon replied.

"I'm… sorry." You said. What you were apologizing for exactly, you weren't sure. For worrying him? For making him come all the way out here to save you like a damsel in distress? The more you thought about it, the more you leaned toward all of the above.

Leon seemed to relax again upon hearing your soft-spoken apology. "There's no need for that, I just…" a sigh. "You should rest. We're almost home."

Home.

You let your eyes slowly drift closed again. The last thing you saw was the sight of Leon driving with one hand, still wearing that unreadable expression.

____

Leon was quick to help you out the car after finding a parking spot. He guided you up the steps to the second floor of the complex, walking to his door. You leaned against him while he fiddled with his keys.

He eventually got the door open, helping you walk through the door. As he walked you through his living room to the bathroom, rather slowly as your feet were slightly dragging across the floor, you took in the familiar space around you. Leon's apartment was, of course, just how you remembered it. He had few decorations, most of them put up by you. His raggedy, but deceptively comfortable couch was somehow still standing strong. His place looked well lived-in; not terribly disorganized, just slightly cluttered. Given the nature of his career and how often he was away, he was never home long enough to let huge messes pile up anyway. You felt a smile tug at your lips as memories crawled back into your mind.

You remembered shopping with Leon for his decorations shortly after you moved in. He pretended to be indifferent, but you'll never forget the grin on his face as he helped you hang up some abstract paintings with poorly hidden amusement. That very couch was often where you spent your time resting your head on Leon's shoulders, or sometimes his head on your lap. The now spotless kitchen was where you and Leon made huge messes together, doing more kissing than cooking.

But your smile slightly faded as memories of the tail end of your relationship tainted your mind. Waiting alone for Leon to return home for a mission, worrying yourself sick. Sometimes Leon was distant, going from attentive and caring to cold and unresponsive in a heartbeat. You knew his trauma made it difficult for him to be fully present in the relationship – but sometimes you acted harshly anyway, both out of frustration and out of concern. His career was eating away at you, too.

The sound of running water pulled you out of your thoughts. You quickly registered that Leon had sat you down on his toilet. After wetting a washcloth, he leaned down in front of you again.

"I'm just gonna wipe your face, alright?" He said. You nodded, closing your eyes.

Leon wiped your face with the washcloth ever so gently, dabbing away dried drool and removing the light sweat that had formed across your forehead. He even went as far as to brush your teeth for you, thoroughly reaching every inch of your mouth to the best of his ability. Somehow, even during this, you found yourself dozing off a few times.

"You don't have to wash up now if you're too tired." Leon said once he had finished a portion of your nighttime routine for you. He stood in front of you while you were still seated, waiting for your next move.

You wanted nothing more than to wish the stink of the nightclub off your skin, but your eyelids were getting heavier by the second.

"Take me to bed, Leon." You muttered, wrapping your hands around his waist and leaning against his torso.

Leon found himself grinning at how much of a koala you became when sleepy and drunk. With one hand, he played with your hair for a bit as you continued holding him. You sighed contently as you felt yourself slip away in the sensation. Leon looked down at you, feeling something tug at his heart strings at how vulnerable you looked like this. The warmth from your arms around his waist brought Leon to a painful realization – that he missed your touch more than he thought.

Leon tried to store that thought away. You'd be gone by the morning, right? He couldn't allow himself to open up to you after all this time. You had made the choice to walk away and as far as he knew, you hadn't changed your mind.

He gently tapped your arms, causing you to stir a bit.

"If you want me to take you to bed, you have to get up first." He said teasingly. You groaned, but reluctantly did what he asked. Even while standing, your eyes were barely open.

"Do you wanna change?” He asked.

“Into what?” You said sleepily, words slurring together.

“I can give you one of my shirts and a pair of my pants. I don't mind.”

You just nodded, leaning into Leon's side, your head falling onto his shoulder.

Leon walked you to his bedroom, grabbing some clothes for you as you stood there patiently, your eyes half open. He gave you an old shirt of his and some gray sweatpants.

You began stepping out of your gross nightclub clothes right in front of Leon, who didn't seem to mind – he helped keep you from stumbling as you got dressed.

“This is so much better.” You said, feeling free and unconstrained now that you were out of those awful leather pants. Leon found himself holding back a grin at the way you were happily rubbing at the fabric of his shirt.

“Let's get you to bed.” He spoke.

He assisted you in getting cozy under the large comforter, even going as far as to tuck you in.

Leon's scent washed over you as you sunk into the softness of his mattress. You almost instantly succumbed to slumber, subconsciously burying your head into Leon's pillow.

For a long time, Leon just stared.

You were safe now, finally out of that awful nightclub and resting comfortably. He felt the tension leave his body, and he could finally go about his nightly routine at ease knowing you were taken care of.

Seeing you in his bed like this reminded him of the nights he came home late. Those nights, he'd crawl into bed next to you, holding you close as if you'd disappear into thin air. Strangely, despite the fact that he was looking directly at you, this was another moment where he felt like you'd cease to exist if he so much as looked away.

But he eventually forced himself to look away, sighing to himself as he went back to the bathroom to freshen up himself. He decided to sleep on the couch, falling asleep with you in his mind and still feeling the phantom touch of your arms around his waist.

____

Upon slowly opening your eyes, squinting slightly at the sunlight filtering through the room, it didn't take you long to notice the splitting headache that pulsated uncomfortably right behind your eyes. You also took note of the fact that you were clad in Leon's clothing.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, your face bunching up in pain at your awful hangover. You were mentally chastising yourself, as you knew that this terrible headache could've been easily avoided had you not gone past your limit the night before. It was at the moment, as you were lying on your back and staring at the familiar sight of Leon's apartment ceiling, that all of the memories from last night came rushing back to you.

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, feeling a sense of shame wash over you. You barely remember anything from last night, but you knew that when you were shit-faced you turned into a giant child, and you were already feeling apologetic for putting Leon through your drunken antics. You didn't even want to get out of bed and face the man.

So, you did just that; you lied there for a few extra minutes, absolutely dreading the moment when you would have to get up eventually. You sighed, rolling over on your side, facing the closed bedroom door. It was then that you noticed the tall glass of water and bottle of painkillers on the bedside table.

You sat up slowly, feeling your heart warm at Leon's thoughtfulness. You took one pill from the bottle, swallowing it down in one large gulp of water.

You also noticed your phone on the table. Curiously, you checked to see if your phone was even alive – which it was, much to your surprise, but the battery was low. You saw numerous text messages from your acquaintances last night. Some of them were just talking about how much fun they had and thanking you for coming out. Others seem concerned about where you had gone. You didn't feel like replying to any of them, so you promptly shut your phone off. You needed to save your battery, anyway, as you didn't have a charger. You left your phone in its place on the table.

You sat in Leon's bed for a little longer after that, sighing to yourself, before getting up to go find where he was.

You didn't have to look very far after opening the door; there Leon stood in the kitchen, occupied with making breakfast. It seemed like he didn't notice your presence at first, so you took that opportunity to gaze at him, grinning softly at the concentrated look on his face as he flipped over a pancake, his hair falling into his eyes. He looked cuter than ever, clad in his well-loved plaid pajama pants and a loose black shirt. It felt strange, seeing him like this again after so many months.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Leon suddenly spoke, still turned away from you. You were slightly startled, quickly averting your gaze.

“Morning,” you said softly. “Did you know I was standing here the whole time?”

“Of course I did,” Leon replied, finally turning to you with a pretty smile on his face, one that you couldn't help but immediately return. “Government training helped me with my awareness, y'know.”

You chuckled at that, making your way over to the dining table and taking a seat. Resting your chin in your hand, you watched Leon lovingly, a comfortable silence settling between you.

“Need a hand with anything?” you asked.

“Nah, it's alright. I'm almost done, anyway.” Leon replied. “By the way, how did you sleep?”

“Like a baby. I forgot how comfortable your bed was.” you said.

Leon grinned. “That's good. And your head?”

“It's feeling better. Thanks for the medicine, by the way.”

“Of course.” Leon replied.

Eventually, he carried to the table two plates of food, along with two tall glasses of orange juice. It was a simple breakfast, consisting of just pancakes, but it was totally fine by you. They looked fluffy and perfectly cooked and you didn't hesitate to dive in.

Leon just watched you eat in silence, a small grin on his face as he watched you do a little happy dance upon taking a bite. He wasn't really showing it, but he was very pleased with himself; not just because he made you a decent plate of pancakes but because you were here with him, out of that grimy nightclub, content and being taken care of. Leon felt a tug at his heartstrings as he realized just how much he missed taking care of you.

“Leon. Are you gonna eat?” you said with a chuckle, nearly done with your food. Leon seemed to snap out of whatever trance you had put him in, quickly glancing at his untouched plate of food.

“Yeah. Sorry.” He said in a slightly bashful way that made you swoon. He finally had begun eating, thoughtfully chewing, taking his time.

You leaned back in your chair, feeling completely satiated. For a while, the two of you just sat in comfortable silence. It dawned on you that eventually you'd have to leave, sadness beginning to wash over you like waves.

“What's the matter?” Leon suddenly spoke. “Be honest, were the pancakes actually terrible?” He said jokingly. That got you smiling again, and you let out a small, half-hearted laugh.

“Leon, they were fucking amazing,” you replied sincerely. You smiled then faltered a bit. “I just… I still feel bad.”

Leon, who was also sitting lax in his chair, had straightened up, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he gazed warmly at you.

“About?” He inquired.

You sighed, looking down at your lap. Suddenly eye contact was too much right now.

“For last night. I know I've already apologized but… seriously, I'm really sorry for making you drive all the way out there. And for worrying you.”

Leon shook his head, looking at you with an expression that could only be read as sympathetic.

“I've said it before and I'll say it again – you don't have to apologize, okay? If anything, I'm glad you called me. It meant that you trusted me to ensure your safety; and that made me feel good.”

You felt your heart warm at that. You continued to stare down at your lap, twiddling your thumbs, still hesitant to let him into your gaze.

“Can you look at me? Please?” Leon said ever so softly. The gentle, almost desperate tone of voice was enough to get you to finally raise your head and meet his eyes.

“There you are,” he said fondly. “I want you to know that you can always call me. For anything. And if you need me, I'll be there. We're not… together anymore but that doesn't mean I'm just gonna step out of your life, okay? I still care about you. Always will.”

You were effectively silenced, so deeply touched by Leon's words that you couldn't even produce any of your own. Suddenly your vision began to blur and your bottom lip was quivering.

Your friends – really, just your co-workers – who had practically forgotten about you at that club? They probably didn't care about you all like they claimed to. But if there was one person that would always stand up for you, help you, tend to your needs – it was Leon. It had always been him.

With a shaky voice, you responded, “Thank you, Leon. I… still care about you, too. So much. I totally owe you after last night.” you said with a playful smile, although you were honestly very serious.

“No, it's okay. You don't owe me anything. I was just doing what a good friend is supposed to do.”

Friend.

You brushed the word off, ignoring the pang of disappointment that hit you. You simply smiled at him.

Clearing your throat, you started another topic. “So, um… I guess since I'm here, we should catch up a bit. It's been so long since I've last spoken to you.”

Leon shrugged. “Honestly? I don't have much to catch you up on. I've just been doing what I always do, lounging around, working, occasionally going out with Claire and Chris. You know me, I'm a boring guy.”

“You are not at all boring, Kennedy,” you said teasingly.

“You know, it's okay to admit it.” He replied, and you could only shake your head, laughing quietly to yourself.

“You're literally a government agent. That's the opposite of boring.”

“Well, what a lot of people don't know is that being a government agent also comes with a shit-ton of paperwork.”

“I suppose,” you said with a completely playful roll of your eyes. “Anyway, Claire and her brother doing well?”

“They're doing great. They're always asking about you.”

You felt guilt begin to rear its ugly head at Leon's comment. “I haven't spoken to them in a while too… God, I'm terrible.” You said.

“Hey, don't make it a huge deal. They know how busy you are. They still care about you too. You could go a thousand years without speaking to them and they'd still be excited to hear from you.”

“That's nice to know.” You replied. You made it a mental note to get in contact with them soon.

The dining table fell quiet again. There was this undeniable tension in the air, one that the two of you couldn't shake. As much as you hated to admit it, you had missed sitting at Leon's dining table, sitting across from him specifically, sharing peaceful mornings together. You knew that eventually you'd have to leave; you'd part ways with Leon once more. You wish you could say that'd be easy to do.

Leon pulled you out of the recesses of your mind when he suddenly stood up, grabbing the two plates and cups. You silently watched as he went over to the sink, turning on the faucet.

Without even thinking, you stood up as well, joining him in the kitchen.

“Let me help you,” you said, not even giving him the choice.

Leon shook his head, like you knew he would. “It's alright, I got it. I know you've probably got things to do, so I understand if you need to go-”

“Things to do? Like what?” You interrupted with a playful grin. “I want to help, Leon, please.”

“It's only a few dishes.”

“I know– look, stop being so stubborn and let me help. Please.” You said, taking a plate out of his hand and grabbing a washcloth to help with drying. Leon just chuckled, having paused his washing for a bit to admire you.

“You haven't changed.” He spoke.

“What do you mean?” You asked as you put the plate back in its respective cabinet. You didn't even need to ask where it went – it was muscle memory for you.

“I mean… always wanting to help with stuff. It's what I've always liked about you.” Leon replied, handing you a newly washed cup. You took it, slowly, still processing his words. You felt a certain warmth throughout your body, trying to distract yourself from the feeling by rather furiously drying the glass.

“That's just how I am. Can't help it.” You replied shyly, your voice coming out small.

“I know. You should consider being an agent since you like helping so much.” Leon teased. You were putting the glass up when he had said that and weren't looking directly at him, but you could hear the smirk in his voice. It made you smile.

“Absolutely not.” You replied immediately, to which the both of you broke out into laughter, the sound filling the kitchen.

The two of you finished doing the dishes fairly quickly, falling into an easy rhythm. It all felt too familiar. The both of you fell into your usual banter so easily, and it was almost like you two hadn't just spent months apart.

You ended up helping Leon clean his entire kitchen after the dishes, chatting with him every second and moving around each other with the sort of ease you can only get when you've spent enough time in one place to memorize everything. You told Leon that you didn't mind helping him knock out a few chores, which was true; you knew how busy he was and how he was usually too tired to take care of things like this himself. But deep down, the true reason why you were still here was because you just didn't want to leave. But you kept that part buried within you. It was difficult coming to terms with what that meant and you didn't want to think about it.

“Does anything else need tidying?” You asked him once you finished wiping the kitchen counter. Leon looked around, seemingly thinking for a moment, before shaking his head.

“Nah, it's all good. But I appreciate it.”

Your grin faltered a bit. You knew you had to go. You had been here for hours now.

“Ah, okay,” you said, trying to hide the dejection in your voice. “Well, um… I guess I should get out of your hair then.”

Leon perked up at that. “You don't have to leave.” He said quickly. He then cleared his throat, looking away. “I mean, uh– if you don't want to, you can stay as long as you want.”

You wanted to more than anything else. But the right thing would be to leave, even though that went against your heart's desires. Who knows what you'd end up saying– or doing– if you stayed. Whatever it'd be, you'd probably regret it.

“I should really go.” You said quietly. Leon just silently nodded. His expression was unreadable yet again.

After making sure you had all your belongings, and unfortunately having to change back into your cursed club outfit for the time being, you now stood in front of the door. Leon had changed out of his pajamas too, looking as handsome as ever in a simple pair of jeans, a black shirt, and boots.

Since your friends had driven you to the club, and Leon drove you to his place, he'd have to drive you back. You were waiting for him after he had said he had to find his keys. You took one long, final glance around his house as you stood there with a heavy heart.

Quite a bit of time had passed, though, and you were about to call out to Leon, as you noticed he seemed to be taking longer than you expected. You figured he just needed help searching for his keys, so you jogged over to his bedroom, where you saw him enter.

When you walked in, he was kneeling in front of a cardboard box. His closet door was open, so you presumed that's where the box came from. Your brows pinched together in confusion.

“Leon? I can help with finding your keys-”

“Oh, I have my keys. I just, um… suddenly remembered something.” He said, a bit cryptically.

You were still visibly puzzled. “Remembered what?” you asked, walking a bit closer to see the contents of the box. And then you realized.

In the box was some jewelry of yours, one of your shirts, and a bottle of perfume that you had forgotten at his home ages ago.

Your heart warmed at the fact that Leon kept them safe and tucked away in his closet, almost as if he was waiting for the day to return them to you.

“I completely forgot about these,” he said, standing up to face you. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. I've been meaning to give these back.”

You just smiled, feeling so incredibly touched and endeared.

“It's okay, Leon. I didn't even realize I was missing these items.” You said with a chuckle. You kneeled down yourself, sifting through the contents of the box and reminiscing. The perfume especially reminded you of so many date nights and all the times Leon told you how nice you smelled.

“You know, that reminds me,” You began, feeling the cotton of your old, worn t-shirt that lay perfectly folded in the box. “I think I still have one of your sweatshirts. The old RPD one.”

You knew you did. It was still in your closet, hidden away. Not forgotten, just out of sight.

“You can keep it.” Leon said. “You looked better in it anyway.”

You felt that familiar heat rush to your face again. Even after all this time, his words still affected you.

“Well, um… thanks.” You replied.

“It's nothing.”

You stood up, holding the box, and the two of you walked back to the door. Every step felt heavier than the last.

You watched as Leon was about to open the door for you. But in that moment, as he was about to turn the knob, something within you snapped.

“Wait.” You said.

Leon paused, turning to look at you. “Did– did you forget something?” He asked.

You shook your head. You slowly put the box down on the floor, gently kicking it aside.

“I don't wanna leave, Leon.”

Leon still seemed perplexed. “I told you, you can stay as long as you-”

“No, I mean… I'm not leaving… again.”

It didn't take long for the realization to hit Leon. He was silent for a bit, unsure of how to proceed, or what to say.

“I need you to be more clear.” He said simply.

You stepped closer to him. You nearly reached your hand out, wanting to gently stroke his hair like you always used to do, but you weren't sure if he was ready to jump back into physical affection like that. You restrained yourself.

“I want to try again, Leon. I'm so sorry for how I treated you. At the time, I didn't understand your trauma – I failed to accommodate you. When I left… I realized how shitty I had been. How much I had missed you. I dated other people and none of them gave me what you did. You were too good to me and I was too selfish. I'm sorry, and I want you to know that I've grown. I will try my best to meet you where you are from now on if you just let me back in.”

You said all of this while staring directly into Leon's captivating eyes, sincerity in your tone and in the way you gazed at him. You hoped Leon could feel your guilt. Your remorse.

Leon just stared back, stunned into silence. You could tell his mind was racing, searching for what to say, processing everything you had told him. You were prepared for him to say no. You were bracing for the heartbreak. You wouldn't be upset, no. You'd be understanding. You were ready to leave for good if that's what he wanted.

But heartbreak isn't what you got.

“Thank you. For apologizing.” Leon said. “I should, too. I wasn't being totally honest about my line of work. And dating a government agent isn't necessarily an easy thing to handle. It was probably traumatic for you, too, seeing me come home so damaged, physically and mentally.

“And for the record, I don't think you were being selfish. You wanted to help, I know you did, you just didn't know how and it was frustrating.”

You felt a stinging sensation in your eyes, your emotions nearly meeting their boiling point, tears threatening to spill. Deep down, you didn't think Leon had anything to apologize for, considering everything he's been through and seen, but you were appreciative of his apology nonetheless. It warmed your heart to know that he never resented you when you were together, like you always thought he did.

“So… should we try this again?” you said, a playful glint in your watery eyes.

Leon grinned. “We should.”

At that, you couldn't hold back any longer. You went in for a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck snugly. He wasted no time in wrapping his around your waist. Being back in his arms again felt like a dream.

You brought a hand up to his hair, running your fingers through it. You felt Leon relax even more at the soft touch.

With your lips close to his ear, you whispered:

“I never stopped loving you.”

Leon pulled away a bit, his hands just lightly resting on your waist.

“Neither did I.”

A pause. You felt his breath fan across your face.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, already grinning like a lovesick teenager.

“Please.” Was all Leon said before you leaned in, your lips finding purchase on top of his, bodies pressed close together.

You had a hunch that making yourself at home again wouldn't be difficult at all.

#leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil fanfic #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil 4 #re4 #re4make #re4 leon #re4 remake

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rayroseu · 24 hours

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IM CRYING (FOR SILLY REASONS THIS TIME) AKDJKWJFE NOT THIS SCENE IMPLYING HE COOKED FOR BABY SILVER BCS LILIA CANT BE TRUSTED KAJFKWJF TRULY THE BROTHER THAT STEPPED UP 🤣🤣🤣

AND AAAAAAAA if im really correct that Malleus was the one who cooked the soup in this scene (this is what baby silver was eating here), THEN IS THIS ANOTHER LEVAN PARALLEL.... LEVAN COOKED SOUP AS WELL IN A GATHERING AT A FOREST, BCS LILIA FAILED TO COOK ONE 😭✨

OH so many south american animals here?? armadillo and black newt afaik, but isnt black newt poisonous 😭💀✨ Guardian angel Dawn would work overtime if Lilia was alone at caring for baby Silver Kajdkwjfjs

AND MALLEUS SARCASM AGAIN LMAO his sentence might sound consoling Lilia but word choice of "It unsettles him" means he doesnt trust Lilia 🤣🤣

I TOPPLED OVER 💔🔥🔥😭😭 One thing that always convinces me that Malleus is not evil is because of this!!! all his decisions where it made significant impact on his character, always involved making someone "happy", he's not innately evil and selfish, in fact out of all the characters like Lilia and Silver, he's one of the cahracters who thinks of others often

AHAHAHA 😭😭😭😭😭 The fact that Malleus is probably 160+ years old here and he's still a boy,,, AAAA i feel like no one comments much about Malleus' kindness in his past other than Lilia and that makes me so kkdkakfjsv!!!

LIKE THIS ISNT BIG NEWS it was kinda obvious at the start that only Lilia and Silver are the Malleus is kind truthers, but when it gets mentioned on plot !!! im pouring out tears 😭😭😭

these nuts are making me cry...

okay another interpretation of mine, is that giving this acorn bracelet ACTUALLY WORKS like the person who will receive it will live a long healthy life, but faes are masters of giving blessings, maybe they suggested this idea to Silver not considering he is human so therefore the blessing of this acorn tradition might not flow well because hes a different species, and therefore in the present younger Silver's wish that Lilia lives a long healthy life "didnt come true"

AAAAAAA this is the exact line that Lilia from Sebek's dream said to convince Silver to just accept the dreamworld KHRJSD 😭💔

AAAAAA 😭😭😭😭😭 the wayyyyy I WOULDVE LOVE TO SEE IT VISUALIZED AUGHWURHSJJD Lilia hugging little Silver tightly so as to not see his eyes brimming with tears at the possible kind gesture and first gift he has received for the past 500 years??? IM BAWLING😭😭

😭😭😭😭😭😭 just realized that the acorn bracelet might symbolize Silver's view of himself... like only in present time, did he start feeling like a failure in not living up to his exoectations of repaying Lilia, like a shriveled up acorns... but even if its old and destroyed, even if its failed, Lilia still treasures it, because it was given to him by Silver!!! 😭😭😭

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twistedwonderland #malleus draconia #disney twst #twst malleus #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #twst silver #silver vanrouge #twst diasomnia #diasomnia #twst book 7

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themeraldee · 2 days

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The Lucky Winner - Part 3

[Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2] | [AO3]

18+ Only | 10k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Early Season 1. Voice kink (very mild mention). Awkward first dates. Awkward dialogue. Messy timeline. Established Relationship. Love confession. Emotional sex. Unhealthy Relationship.

Summary: Your life turns upside down, again, when Homelander reaches out to you asking you out on a date.

Author’s Note: This is set between the events of Part 1 & Part 2. It really is just a self-indulgent excuse to explore some relationship building and dynamics. Lot of awkward dialogue so be warned.

The next time Homelander contacts you it catches you just as off guard as the first time. Maybe even more so. You never expected him to turn up in the first place, let alone be interested in seconds.

Your phone is ringing on the bed and ever since the development from a week ago you’ve been on edge anytime your phone rang. You drop the towel you’re folding back on the pile of unsorted laundry and you nearly dive onto the bed, reaching for your phone. In the panic you drop it about three times, your shaky hands inadvertently playing hot potato.

“Hello?!” You yell into the phone, panicked. You don’t actually end up checking who’s calling, too worried about not accidentally hanging up. Plus it’s not like you could have saved Homelander’s number from a week ago anyway. It showed up as blocked on your phone’s call logs so you had no way to recognise his number.

“Hello there! Nice of you to pick up.” You squeaked in surprise and the voice on the phone turned from chipper to confused. “You okay? You sound a little—” And oh my god, it’s him! You’re talking to Homelander, again. Okay, okay, now it’s time to try and keep calm.

His voice is still gloriously rich and sweet in your ear and here you are about to most likely embarrass yourself again because for the life of you you’re incapable of coming across as calm and collected.

“I’m fine!” You immediately cut him off, your voice shrill and strained. He does not need to know the ins-and-outs of your internal struggle. But either way you’re already doing terribly. Who are you to cut Homelander off mid-sentence? Where are your manners?

“Why are you—um—I mean, is there anything you need?” You clumsily make your way through your response. Definitely not how you wanted to present yourself but it’s a lot better than barely being able to say a word like last time!

“I’m taking you out on a date. Get ready for 7 today.” You heard it. You’re pretty damn sure you heard that right, yet not a single part of you believes what he said.

“Sorry? W-w-what do you mean?” You sputter in confusion, your brain simply not capable of computing this news.

“I mean that I’m taking you out for dinner. What’s hard to understand?” He sounds irritated and your heart is pounding. From so many things at once. How are you meant to process that Homelander contacted you again, is asking you out for a date and now you’ve managed to irk him?!

Before you manage to apologize, following your typical spiel, Homelander continues. “Maybe you don’t know this but it’s kind of what men do when they want to get to know someone. You following yet?”

You ignore the condescending remark and instead you focus on what he’s actually saying.

There may as well be steam coming out of your ears, you genuinely feel like a blushing teenage girl talking to her crush. You’re hot bright red in the face and you feel the literal heat coming off your face.

“Yeah but you’re not—well of course you are—but also you’re not! Y’know, just an average Joe.” How do you go about explaining that you don’t feel worthy of that kind of attention?

“Doesn’t matter, you’re missing the point. Is that a no?” You’d think he would be pissed saying that, who in their right mind would refuse going on a date with Homelander, but he sounds amused more than anything.

Again with the reading you like a book. Because you barely manage to let out a barrage of “No! No no no no— that’s not!” before Homelander starts laughing.

“Alright, I’ll pick you up then.”

“No, wait! I can’t—I can’t do the public thing. You’re you! And as soon as I show up in public with you I won’t be left alone. I know that’s normal for you, but my life isn’t like that. I’m just… me.” You’re just a nobody. You don’t have a social media presence. You don’t bring attention to yourself. And you like to keep it that way. Going on a public date with America’s golden boy himself? You would be ripped apart by the online vultures.

You all but freak out on the phone and for a second you think he disconnected because you can’t hear a thing over the line but he suddenly speaks up.

“Oh well. We can’t have that, can we? You better have dinner ready at your place instead.” You don’t need to see him to imagine him with the biggest satisfied grin on his face. “I’ll be there at 7. Catch you later!”

Homelander hangs up on you and you hear the disconnected tone ringing in your ear as you stand there like a fish out of water. Mouth gaping open, letting out disbelieving stutters.

You pull the phone away from your ear, looking down at it as if it offended you. It’s then you notice the time. Shit shit shit. You have less than four hours to make your place and yourself presentable, go on a grocery run and start cooking for Homelander?! What just happened!

“Oh no no no no. This is not happening.” You rub your hands over your face as if to wipe the shock off your face. You’re so overwhelmed with the rollercoaster of emotions that you don’t know whether to have a panic attack, laugh nervously or downright cry.

Okay, first of all the pile of laundry is gonna have to wait. You don’t have the time to meticulously fold your t-shirts and panties. You gather up the clean and dry laundry into your hands, haphazardly shoving it into the closet before closing the door on what will be an avalanche of laundry for your future self to deal with.

With pure panic-induced energy that you haven’t felt in a long while you manage to just about make your place presentable within an hour. Finally managing to gather and clean up the mugs and glasses that have been cluttering up your surfaces, making your bed all neat and tidy—just in case—and shoving all unnecessary clutter into cupboards. It’s not like Homelander would use his x-ray vision to judge the inside of your cabinets, would he?

Speeding your way out of your apartment you make your way over to the closest shop. Standing in the fresh produce aisle you suddenly realize you don’t actually have a plan. What the fuck are you meant to cook for Homelander?! Even after all the content you’ve consumed you’re pretty sure there’s not a single mention of his favorites. At least ones he’s not been sponsored to promote. Sure, he’s on many products, ranging from frozen peas to whole milk but that doesn’t mean it’s something he genuinely endorses. After all you want to get to know the man behind the costume, a date is not meant to be just another PR interview for him!

You’re starting to look strange. People are passing you while you’re internally panicking over what to buy. What if he’s allergic to something? What if he goes into anaphylactic shock and fucking dies! Even if you had an EpiPen or he carried it on him you wouldn’t be able to stab it into him anyway. And suddenly you’ve killed the world’s most beloved superhero and you’re spending the rest of your life in jail with Vought most certainly making sure you pay your dues. Even if all of that was true you had no way of knowing. It’s not like Vought would ever leak that kind of information. Not very good for their brand to tweet that their best superhero is allergic to fucking nuts!

You shake your head a little, snapping yourself out of your dazed state. If Homelander’s brand is anything it’s that red-blooded American male perfect standard. Surely he wouldn’t complain about some steak dinner right? Men love steaks! You just make sure to avoid most common allergens. You pick up some potatoes and other vegetables to roast along with a good pricey cut of steak that was easily out of your budget.

You get home just as fast and with each passing second you’re more and more on edge. You don’t know whether it’s the anxiety coiling in your guts or the so called ‘butterflies’ but you’ve never been this nervous before. With the clock ticking and the food cooking you’re suddenly more and more paranoid over everything. From your insane Homelander merch collection to even just the furniture you’ve got! Not that that’s anything you can change in the next hour but your mind is running at a hundred miles an hour and you’re trying to account for everything.

Just before it gets to the agreed time you change into something nice but casual, straight after shoving the laundry avalanche back into its place. You even leave the balcony door open, doubting he’s gonna knock on your door like a normal person.

And while you’re there focusing on platting up your best attempt at steak and roasted vegetables, you hear the familiar sound of Homelander’s landing. You whip your head towards the wall clock with such urgency it’s shocking you don’t give yourself whiplash.

Shit. It was literally 7pm. You wanted to set the table all pretty and prep it perfectly but you got so preoccupied with the place looking as good as it can that you lost track of time. You’re sure he’s used to luxury and perfection. You want to do your best to replicate that!

“Homelander!” Comes out of you with a little gasp. You tilt your head to look at him. And what you see makes your heart skip a beat.

There he is, in his suited-out glory per usual, except this time he’s holding a bouquet of roses with a dashing smile on his face that quickly turns into a self-satisfied grin as he immediately notices your panic at his presence. Even after he thoroughly reduced you to a puddle of goo just last week you were still such a skittish uncertain thing around him.

“Wow, smells delicious in here.” He looks around taking it in while inhaling the mouth-watering smell of sizzling steak.

Homelander steps closer with calculated steps, checking you out without an ounce of shame. You don’t know if it’s just the pure intensity in his eyes that has you feeling on edge or if he really is undressing you with his gaze. “These,” he frees your hand, prying your palm open with his gloved hand, “are for you.” He places the bouquet of roses into your palm, squeezing it shut around the wrapped stems.

In a way you’re paralyzed. The reality of the situation finally hits you and you realize you’re really here about to have a dinner date with Homelander. Who just brought you expensive, gorgeous flowers, because that’s something that totally happens to people like you.

You’re standing there, staring at the deep rich red of the roses that actually ends up matching the cardigan you put on for this. Your little attempt at complimenting the suit you knew he'd show up in.

Your mind is going a million miles a second and your other hand squeezes a petal in between your fingertips. There’s droplets of water on the velvety surface. You didn’t realize it was raining at the time. You look past him through a window as if you could make out the weather through the darkness of the evening.

Looking at the roses now, they look beautiful, pristine. He flew here right? How did he manage to keep them in one shape with the speeds he flies at.

“H-how did you fly with—” You don’t even finish the question before he’s answering.

“I don’t have to fly at super speeds all the time. You’d think my most loyal fan would know that.”

“You can read minds too?” Falls out of your mouth before you even think about what you're saying.

“No. You’re just very easy to read.” He places his hands on his hips, naturally defaulting to his superhero pose.

And sure, maybe the way your eyes move in between the window, him and the flowers is a dead giveaway but you still don’t think it’s that easy to figure out exactly how your thought process works.

He seems unhappy with your lack of enthusiastic response. He probably expected you to jump at him, wrapping your arms around him in pure glee that he’d do such a romantic thing.

He nodded towards the bouquet, raising his eyebrows.

“Anyway, your flowers. You might want to put them in some water. Unless you plan on fondling each petal all night.” You don’t know whether he said it that way on purpose or if your absurd attraction to his voice is reaching new heights but the imagery that conjures is not one that would belong at a dinner table. There’s a different kind of petal-fondling you have in mind for later.

“Sorry! I’m sorry. And thank you. Really, this is very kind of you. They’re beautiful.” Finally, he’s satisfied with that response, his shoulders relax a bit, his chest puffing out as he sees you hold the flowers closer to you.

You’re all over the place and your movements are in no way elegant or thought out as you awkwardly stumble around, pulling out the biggest glass you could find. This ends up being a large glass measuring jug which you admit looks rather strange, and you don't miss the way he raises his eyebrow at the display.

Well, it was a lot better than if you used the bucket you keep under the sink for cleaning. It’s not like you have a perfect pretty vase ready for this occasion. Until now you didn’t have anyone bringing you flowers and you never really bought any for yourself.

He doesn’t comment on the miserable display. Instead he focuses on how wound up you are.

“Jeez, you’re even stiffer than last time. You know I usually fuck my dates after dinner, but if you need me to loosen you up…” His crude attempt at humor and breaking the ice just has your brain screeching and halting all actions.

“What?! No, nonono. That won’t—That’s not. I’m sorry. I’m just surprised. That you’re here.”

“I did tell you I’d come. And I’m pretty sure you’re not plating up two plates for yourself there silly.” He shakes his head while clicking his tongue, as if disapproving of your doubt.

“I mean, I’m surprised that you want to do this. With me.”

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m here aren’t I? Last time I checked I asked you out, not the other way around. And trust me sweetheart, I don’t do shit out of pity.” He walks closer to you, his hand patting the side of your arm, settling his hand there and sliding it up until he reaches your jaw. The leather of his glove is cold, some raindrops still stuck in the crevices.

Although your heart rate picks up, you smile genuinely. Getting the straightforward confirmation that he wants to be here with you warms your heart. “Alright.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have everything ready. I lost track of time. Do you mind just sitting down, I’ll finish up in a second.”

“Yup, can do.” He sits down at the small table slapping his palms on his thighs as he does so. Already peeling his gloves off, discarding the gloves at the edge of the table.

You finish up the plating, trying to make it as neat as possible. You bring the plates over, one in front of him the other right opposite. “Um, do you drink beer? I got some in case you do. I know you do endorse some but I’m sure that doesn’t mean you have to consume it in your free time.”

“No thanks, never got the taste for it. Have you got milk?”

You blank a little at the request. It’s not the typical pairing by any means but who are you to tell him what to like. Instead you comply, tucking away the little preference into the corner of your mind where you keep all your knowledge about him.

“Um, yeah. I do. Again, I got one you’ve done marketing for, just in case you did like it. I wasn’t really sure. Believe it or not there’s a lot I don’t know about you.” You admit. It’s not like everything that his Marketing team puts out is all real. You're sure they leave out any of his actual preferences so future advertisers don't clash with any competition.

“With this logic I’m surprised you didn’t buy the entire store.”

“I was close to it.” You take the carton out of the fridge, shutting the door with your hip. “Do you want it warm or cold?”

“Cold is fine.” You nod, pouring some into a glass placing it in front of him.

As a last touch you take two roses from the huge bouquet, popping them into a narrow tall glass filled with water and you place the romantic decoration to the side of the table before sitting down.

He strangely smiles at the gesture, something about it feeling awfully domestic. It may not be perfectly manicured but it's real and it does the job just as well. It's not a perfect setting made for a photoshoot. You're just trying to impress him with what you've got. All for his enjoyment only. And that alone makes it a lot more special.

Suddenly being right across him really set the reality of the situation. You feel a little awkward about the setting. But there is really only so much you could have done with your small apartment. And it’s not like he hasn’t been here before. He knows what you're working with.

You watch as he cuts into the steak, stabbing it with his fork and bringing a piece to his mouth.

“Wait! You’re not allergic to anything right?!” You suddenly panic, feeling cold sweat pour over you at the thought of your irrational thoughts from earlier coming true.

He looks thoroughly amused but he doesn’t answer and instead just takes the bite.

“Are you always this worried on dates? Or do you get them to fill out a questionnaire beforehand?” He seems to enjoy throwing all these little jabs highlighting how much of a nervous mess you are in his presence.

“I don’t usually cook for my dates on the first date. There’s usually nothing to worry about.”

“I did ask you out for dinner. This is your own doing missy.” He waved his fork at you, pointing at you being the one to blame.

“You think I’m—oh. I’m not complaining about this, oh my god! I just didn’t really know what you like! Surprisingly not a lot about that online. They really know how to keep you a mystery. And even superheroes have allergies! How was I to know whether you’ve got one or not? But even if you did, it’s not like Vought would release that information.” You ramble on, trying to explain yourself but you’re really just digging yourself a deeper hole. Not that Homelander looks particularly put off. If anything, the amused grin spreads to both corners of his mouth.

“You know I’m not here for the food right? Though this is not too bad. Didn’t think you had it in you.” He raises his eyebrows in appreciation.

“I live on my own. I don’t know why you’re surprised to learn that I can cook for myself.” You said feigning offense but inside you were squealing at the compliment.

“When’s the last time you’ve had a date?” He changes the topic, with each passing moment he’s less interested in the food and a lot more honed in on you and what little secrets you can let him in on. Though he’s still happily nursing the glass of milk.

“It’s been a while, I guess.” You’re overcome with this anxious feeling in your gut. Is it meant to be a dig at the date you’ve prepared? Is he saying that you’re not desirable enough to be dated?

He catches you off guard with his smug little smile. “Thought so. Guess you’re too busy being my biggest fan, huh?”

You nearly choke on your food, surprised and flustered by his words. The tell-tale sign of heat creeps up your neck and to the tip of your ears in embarrassment. He’s hard to read and you can’t tell whether he’s trying to humiliate you or if he genuinely enjoys the reminder of having someone fawn over him right there and then.

You put your cutlery down, softly clinking it against the plate. “Look, I’m really sorry about all that. I’m a fan but I’m not crazy.”

“I didn’t say you were.” The corners of his mouth comically pull down feigning innocence with a shrug.

You playfully roll your eyes. “You insinuated. I’m just saying I wouldn’t have all this stuff out if I knew you’d ever see it!” You wave your arm in the general direction of the rest of your humble apartment. Still littered with Homelander merch. If you had more time to prepare for the date you would have maybe even taken some of it down. Replace some posters with photos of friends or family, making you appear a lot more put together. But alas, your guilty pleasure is still blatantly obvious and out for anyone to see. It's all the worse that in this case it’s being seen by the featured star of your guilty pleasure himself.

“There’s no shame in being a fan.”

“No, but it’s different to collect memorabilia and merchandise of a beloved superhero that you don’t ever expect to witness the madness and to actually have him see it all and feel objectified. As if all there was to him is just the plastic he can sell with his face on it.”

You don’t know why you’re getting into the heavy-duty topic of someone’s worth and value but maybe part of you just wants to present yourself as someone who cares. Someone who looks beyond the obvious.

Homelander is similarly perturbed by your words. Clearly not used to fans taking such direction with him. Thinking about it you doubt he hears more from them beyond a predictable can I have a selfie?

He furrows his eyebrows for a second tilting his head. As if he’s trying to look into your brain to read your mind. And sure he can literally see inside your skull but it doesn’t help him understand your thoughts. So instead he digs deeper. Putting the glass of milk down he looks you straight in the eyes.

“You don’t think that’s it?”

His resolute question makes you pause, feeling as if you overstepped. And even if, there’s no way to backtrack anymore so you continue. “O-of course not. I know you’re more than what Vought puts out there.”

You’ve spent countless hours following the content Vought markets out to the public. All of it manicured to match his perfect brand and profile. They’re slick enough to control even the content fans put out. From conventions to random street encounters. You remember following a thread of an anonymous fan sharing their experience of getting barraged by Vought’s lawyers after they shared a post about a poor experience they had meeting one of their superheroes. You haven’t heard an update from that story in a while, god knows what happened to the fan. Maybe Vought’s lawyers managed to get their anonymous account too.

“How would you know?” Irritation seeps into his tone, shoulders tensing, feeling exposed right before he slides back into his normal casual tone and body language as if remembering that he’s meant to be talking to a date and not some nosy interviewer trying to get the next scoop.

“I mean who hasn’t put up a face to show the world their perfect self? Whether it’s on dates or in front of friends. I just imagine that doing that in front of the whole world means there’s a lot you feel like you have to hide.” With each word you feel like you’re digging yourself a hole, ruining any chance of another date. But you’ve started saying your piece and when else are you gonna get the chance to tell the man exactly how you feel?

So you continue.

“I just think it has to be exhausting. Your entire job, your life is existing in the public eye and you can’t ever slip up? Not super-abled celebrities deal with that already but for you there’s the added burden of being seen as the superhero right? ‘Here to save us all’. I just mean, do you ever get to be yourself?”

You mean to be sympathetic, not that you could ever imagine what it’s like to be in his shoes. Being as obsessed as you are, you've watched all the footage with him. You notice how often the same lines repeat, how well he’s perfected the mask of a perfect hero. The fake humble you’re the real heroes being repeated in every video and appearance. If it was you, you know you’d have enough a while ago now. The daily grind of a job is exhausting enough but to do that all under the public’s scrutiny? You couldn’t even imagine.

You were so lost in your little monologue, spilling all the little thoughts you had about him and his persona that you miss how his casual demeanor has once again shifted into something else. He’s less irritated but he’s tense. Even more so than before. He wears an expression you’re pretty sure you’ve not seen on him before. His jaw may not be dropped but his surprise and confusion is evident without it.

He’s speechless. Thinking about it now, has anyone ever spoken to him in such manner before?

You watch his body language and the way he’s squeezing the fork so hard you’re sure he’s bent the metal.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep. It’s just once I get going I can’t stop!”

He lets out a breathless little laugh. His shoulders release in tension. He stops gripping the cutlery and sure enough it has a bend that definitely wasn’t there before but you don’t care. He’s not pissed. He raises his free hand waving you off and stopping you from apologizing any further. Something you’ve managed to do about a hundred times since his arrival.

“No. No, it’s fine. You didn’t.” He shakes his head a little, looking at you with a different look in his eyes. No longer just looking for a little bit of excitement, now he’s truly locked in. What else can he get you to say? “Well maybe you did a little, but color me intrigued anyway.”

He looks at you in a way that makes you feel small. You feel like you’re on your knees praying for your god to hear out your prayers knowing it’s unlikely for him to even notice you.

“Can't say I've heard any of that before.” He concludes, slumping back into the chair now that he's relaxed again, having lost all interest in the food you've served up.

You’re embarrassed by the call out. It’s like all your efforts to not appear like another crazy fan have been pointless. He might not seem angry but that doesn’t mean he’s about to jump at the thought of another date. You may have ruined your chances at this being anything more than mild entertainment to him so you try to save yourself. “I just mean. I have always wanted to get to know you. The you without the cameras.”

“You already have. I don’t go on dates with many fans, believe it or not. And I gotta say you’re a lot more interesting than I gave you credit for.”

And maybe it wasn’t such a lost cause yet. Have there been many people that Homelander has ever found genuinely interesting? You wouldn’t know but at least you’re one of them.

“Oh…ah-hah thank you.” You fluster under his heavy gaze. His words make your heart skip a beat. There’s very little that can match the euphoria of your hero, the hero really, saying he finds you interesting. It’s hard to calm the pounding of your heart at the thought of a man of his caliber seeking your company out.

After all you’ve managed to blurt out you feel more at ease. It’s not awkward like you expected it to be. In a way you’ve broken the ice you didn’t know was even there.

With you both losing interest or having had enough of your meals you move to the small but comfortable couch. And like any good dinner and movie date you put on the first title that gets advertised to you on the main page of the Vought+ streaming platform.

In reality the movie doesn’t get watched. Either you let it play in the background or you pause on sections just so you can continue the conversation between the two of you. And somehow it’s still mainly you literally just rambling on about him. It’s not that he doesn’t talk or doesn’t ask questions about you but you see the way he preens at all the enamored praise you send his way.

The only parts that do get watched is the small cameo Homelander ended up having in the title and the conversation steers back to him. He gives you all the details you ask for, more than happy to talk about how great of an actor he is.

With each minute of sitting close to him you feel your body respond to him. You feel hot. Too warm for the cardigan you’re wearing but you don’t want to seem too forward by taking it off. Especially after knowing what kind of trouble he could get up to in between your legs it makes it very hard to accidentally brush against his thigh and not spontaneously combust.

Homelander turns around to look back into the room while you’re dealing with your internal turmoil. Would it be too unseemly for you to initiate?

Your thoughts are interrupted when his bare hand cradles your jaw, bringing you in for a kiss. The whimper you let out is embarrassing but you quickly lose track of anything that’s not his hot lips melting you into a puddle. Just as things are about to get good, just when you’re about to pry his lips open with your needy tongue he pulls away. He doesn’t go too far. You can still feel his hot breath while he rests his forehead against yours.

“I’ll have to set off. I need to get back to Vought tower.” He hums so close to you that you get goosebumps from the way his voice turns all low and hushed. Even though the words he’s saying are anything but good news, the attractive sound still soothes you.

“Oh-kay.” You nod. A little sad but understanding that he’s got things to get to. Every part of you is holding back from pulling him in for more but as much as your fingers twitch for him you restrain yourself.

“Come on now. Don’t sound so upset.” He gives your cheek a soft little pat before placing another peck on your lips with a chuckle from behind his closed lips.

The taste of your lips pulls him in anyway and he holds you close for a few more indulgent kisses. Upon separating you’re warm and flustered. His touch always seems to have that effect on you.

“It's just… I had a lot of fun today.” And you don't want it to be over or for it to be the last time you see him. But how do you ask him out?

While your limbs still feel like jelly, having melted into the couch, he stands up, walking over to the little dining table where he left his discarded gloves, pulling them back on.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ll be back.” He clearly reads your expression and watches as you stumble while getting up, clearly wanting to see him out before he flies off.

His words alone are good enough to lift your spirits and you let yourself show that joy outwardly.

“Thanks for today.” When’s the last time you’ve ever felt this in the moment? Even if he never came back this moment would easily be a highlight you look back on.

“Well, aren’t you sweet?” As if he couldn’t restrain himself his eyes snapped in between your eyes and lips, his eyelashes fluttering, lips parting as he took in the sight of you. So eager to please and be there for him. He wets his lips and your stomach flips at the display. The pink of his tongue disappearing as quickly as it appears.

His eyes soften, lips stretching into a lazy lopsided smile.

“Do I get a goodbye kiss?”

And just like that with one last kiss he’s off again, returning to his duties.

This isn’t where things end with you two. If anything, your life takes a massive turn. It’s not been the same ever since you’ve won that silly competition. And it strangely makes you want to send a gift basket to whoever organized it, no matter how much you dislike Vought itself.

At first he comes back to you seeking comfort.

He strolls in through your balcony door which you’ve gotten into the habit of leaving unlocked—just in case. It’s not like there’s anyone else eager to fly into your home. You awake at the disruption, eyes bleary and straining in the harsh light of the nightstand lamp you’ve turned on to see what’s going on.

He doesn’t explain himself as much as he just vents to you about how he’s not being respected and taken seriously. It’s the first time he’s been back since your date and you’re surprised to see him so emotive. So unlike the perfect persona or even the carefully charming guy he presented himself as during your date.

He’s already pacing back and forth, the thud of his boots bound to disturb your neighbors below. Not that either of you care. He’s too preoccupied with being angry. And you’re too frazzled by the thought of something upsetting your hero to this degree.

You see the angry tremor in his hands and the sharpness of his teeth, highlighted by the yellow night light. You snap out of the sleepy daze and you catch his gloved hand when he paces in front of you.

You pull him down next to you, cooing supportive words and showing your own anger at seeing him be so disrespected by Vought. You believe they don’t know how lucky they are to have someone like him. They should revere him, yet the things he lets slip in his anger make your chest tight, fueling the rage simmering inside you.

It’s like seeing you riled up at the way he’s being mistreated is enough to calm him down. The more you seethe the more he cools down, the energy exchange working in between you perfectly. He’s pleased to have someone in his corner. Preening at how much you parrot the words he’s saying without needing to nudge you in that direction.

Swoop-in visits like these happen more regularly. Either he comes in irritated wanting to get some frustration and anger out, fucking you throughout the night until all he can think of are your moans and cries telling him it’s too much.

Or he comes in happy, excited to share the news that his numbers are up or that the public and the on-scene reporters couldn’t stop praising him after his latest save. Those days he comes in for affection and a cuddle, wanting to hear over and over again just how well he’s done since you’ve last seen him. Treating you less like a stress ball and more like a teddy bear he’s hugged against his chest in comfort.

You start thinking how lonely he must feel. The thought that there aren’t any people around him showering him with genuine love and friendship hurts you and suddenly you want nothing more than to keep him here with you, making sure he knows just how special he is.

As much as you’ve always been devoted to this god-like being and the idea that he represented, you never got to love the person. Until now. Now the ideology alone has seeped into your never ending love, fueling the suffocating adoration you hold for him. So strong it’s eating away at you anytime you don’t get the chance to scream how much you love him.

You used to see these late night visits as something he does for his own benefit. With you always being the easiest and most effective balm to his troubled soul. You didn’t think he was serious with you. After all, this is the Homelander you’re spending every other evening with.

So when he sends you flowers out of nowhere, effectively courting you, you start thinking that this might be turning into something real.

It starts with the first delivery at your door. A gorgeous bouquet bursting at the seams, tagged with a note saying it’s from Homelander. Since then he’s made sure to supply you with the most beautiful bouquets as if to keep a reminder of him on a daily basis. You finally invest in a pretty vase, knowing it’s going to be thoroughly used and displayed.

Your home always had touches of Homelander throughout it—some might even say too many. However, as your relationship grows you come to a realization that those really only represent Vought. It’s these new touches that really represent Homelander’s presence in your life. Like how he times the flower deliveries just right so your place is never empty. Always there to remind you to keep him at the forefront of your mind. Never wavering.

You two haven’t officially said that you’re dating throughout these nighttime visits but it’s at the tip of your tongue each time he comes. You want to voice the love you carry for him like a burden. Overflowing from your arms with nowhere to go. And it feels like each second you don’t say it, it’s being uselessly spilled on the floor like sand falling from in-between your fingers.

Homelander has his own way of showing affection. Seeing as so much of his life has been in front of some sort of camera you wonder if thinking in advertising scripts and photoshoot visuals comes to him more naturally than casual and real gestures. As ever since he started with the flower deliveries he’s been showering you with gifts upon each visit. As if everyday had to be Valentine’s day and he had to bring something to symbolize the reason for his visit.

You call him out on that one day.

“You know you don’t have to bring anything right? You don’t need to bribe me.” You chuckle at the gift box he brought with him. You’ve got dozens of similar gift boxes and bags that you feel reluctant to get rid of mainly for the sentimental value but the retail price associated with the gift they hold certainly doesn’t help.

He clasps the gifted necklace around your neck. The dainty chain lays cold against your skin and your fingers gently caress the pendant with care. Your statement still rings true but you can’t help but feel giddy every time he brings you something he thought would look great on you.

“Do you not like the things I bring you?” With a perplexed expression you see him trying to do mental math, trying to figure out why you could possibly not kneel or bow in gratitude. He watches you play with your new pretty jewelry with a squint.

“No! It’s all beautiful—this one especially—just. I don’t want you to feel like that’s an obligatory part of you being here.” You laugh it off a little, still dreamily thinking about what it really means to get pampered to this degree.

He breaks your thoughts with a simple sentence.

“Maybe I want to treat my girl.”

Your eyes widen, and you let out a shocked stuttered breath.

“Your girl?”

“Yeah, duh.” He scoffs as if what he said is as obvious as the sky being blue and water wet.

“Because you’re mine, right?” You don’t see the way his eyes reflect his own complicated and simmering feelings. The tension in his jaw betrays how he needs you to acknowledge his words and speak them into an existence. But you don’t notice any of that because it’s like the dam you’ve been doing your best to hold together with safety pins finally bursts.

You’re nodding feverishly. No longer able to hold back you’re possessed to blurt out the words that have been threatening to fall off the precipice of your tongue for weeks.

“I love you.”

Homelander’s eyes widen. Surprised by your admission just as much as you are. Your heart is racing, suddenly feeling insane for thinking this was anything more than simple fun to him. The knee-jerk response to apologize spills easily from your lips.

“I’m sorry—,” but instead he interrupts you by cradling your jaw in his bare hands, stepping closer.

“Don’t be sorry.” He says in a low rumble, sending shivers down your spine. He leans in to give you a tender kiss. Just barely slotting in between your parted lips, pressing them against his. Before you get the chance to continue he pulls away with enough distance to speak up.

He breathes out, eyes squeezed shut in longing which to an untrained eye would just look like pure pain and frustration. But not to you. You’ve learned to read him better.

He nuzzles his face against yours, dragging his lips across your cheek until he reaches your ear, growling a weak, “say it again.”

You’ve partially gotten used to the timbre of his voice in your ear. Capable of having a conversation without getting worked up by every word he says but the way he’s now needily begging in your ear has your body erupt in goosebumps. He doesn’t need to say please for you to hear it anyway.

“I-I love you.” You whimper out. The emotion alone feels thick in your throat, as if it was clogging up your airways anytime you come up for air. Your heart is pounding, you’re strung up, the butterflies in your stomach make you antsy.

His hold on your jaw tightens. With a sharp intake of breath he smashes your lips together. No longer composed and tender. Your teeth nearly clash as he’s pressed you close to him. He’s prying your lips open with his, his whimpers easily falling into the press of your lips.

“Again.”

“I love you.”

You don’t want to cry but you’re so overwhelmed with emotion the burn that turns your eyes glassy spills over and you’re dripping tears down your cheeks in pure emotional instability.

“Again.”

And each time he asks he sounds more wrecked.

“I love you.”

Homelander catches the tears with his tongue right before kissing the salty taste into your mouth. Not letting any of your love get wasted. You grab onto him, grasping where you can. Your hands tangle in between his as you wrap them around his neck. One hand grips as much of the fabric of his suit it can while the other tangles in his hair, pulling on it for support more than anything.

You feel like you’re drowning. The intensity of the moment makes you gasp for air but it’s like Homelander kisses it back into your lungs like a lifeline. Hearing his shattered whimpers soothes you, his own need fueling yours, filling the void your tears are leaving behind.

He lifts you up and with practiced ease you automatically wrap your legs around him.

He leads you both to the bedroom while he’s continuously prompting you to continue declaring your love to him. Each again, again, again you reward with the three words that make him feverish and mad. The more you say it the less your heart feels like it’s about to explode from the burden it’s been carrying for too long.

Homelander quite literally rips your clothes off, not caring that he’s leaving his own recent purchases in tatters. He doesn’t want to separate his lips from your neck where he’s kissing trails across each inch of your skin.

You don’t have the luxury to treat his suit with the same carelessness. Even if you wanted to, the tough molded material would make it impossible. Instead you do what you can. Unclasping his belt, pulling at the front of his suit, pushing his pants down where you can reach.

He helps you with taking off the rest of it until he’s on top of you, skin to skin. You rarely get the luxury of lying with him fully stripped and each time you’re shocked at how hot he runs. Now his hot body is making you melt under the heat alone.

Neither of you have stopped kissing with the same intense need that has been laying there dormant for months. Anytime you have the chance you repeat the same words over and over again until they’re all you know how to say.

It’s the first time sex has felt anything more than a physical relief he comes to you for. You’re barely keeping it together as he nudges your legs a little open, sliding his hand down your body, his palm blazing hot as the anticipation makes you clench your core.

It’s by no means either one of your first times, nor it is the first time you’ve been together yet you’ve never felt more nervous. The first touch he descends onto your clit feels like a lightning bolt crackling down your spine, spreading the tingles out to your toes and fingertips.

“Ahh hah—fuck. Want it so bad, don’t you?” He looks as broken as he sounds when he hisses at the feeling of your soaked pussy. It makes his fingers glide too easily, making it harder to give your clit the precise rhythm he’s learned to make you see stars with.

His attempt at his normal dirty talk is disrupted by his keen moans and broken whimpers. Part of you wonders whether his super senses include being able to feel other people’s sensations with the way he’s acting as if it was him getting his body set on fire.

You hum and ahh in response, your tongue feeling incapable of saying anything but the words you’ve been finally allowed to repeat over and over again.

His fingers easily slip inside the sloppy mess you’ve made for him and he moans right into the kiss he leans in to steal from your lips. And it feels good. The friction is perfect, his fingers are hitting the right spot inside you and the loud squelch is embarrassing and intoxicating in equal parts. Yet it’s not what you want.

It takes all your strength to reach down and pull his hand out of you, as instinctively you’re already clenching around the all too familiar emptiness you whine at every other time when he’s done with you.

“I want you. Please. Just you.” You manage to breathe out, your hand reaching over for his hard cock. You give him a few shaky strokes, smearing his leaking precum across the entire length.

“Alright. Uh huh, okay. I’ll give it to you.” And he’s just as out of it as you as his normal cocky one-liners just break into a lot of grunts and stutters.

He wedges himself in between your thighs, spreading them wide open. His lips part with a wistful sigh while his eyes haze over with lust at the sight of your pussy spread ope, generously glistening with slick all made for him.

He aligns his cock with your entrance, not even bothering to tease you. He’s just as strung out as you are. He splits you open with a single thrust, your slick pulling him in with an easy glide.

“I love you.” For the first time the confession spills from Homelander’s lips. A relief just as palpable falls upon him. It’s a different story for you. The words cause more tears to spill, a wet hiccup leaving your throat as you clench around him.

“Shh, shh.” He hushes you sweetly, already reaching back for you.

He lays his body flush on top of yours and kisses your tears away, the heat and weight of his body on top yours grounds you. He repeats the words over and over again in between wet, messy kisses. He ruts into you in shallow thrusts as if he doesn’t want to part from you any second longer.

Nothing in the world exists but you two and neither one of you can believe how perfect you really are for each other. You’ve always felt like the way you love was overwhelming. It left the other person choking on the overwhelming viscosity of it all. Homelander isn’t like that. To him your love is a breath of fresh air.

As long as you love him with the same unyielding intensity he’s yours. At this point, he wouldn’t know how to live without it.

He kisses you in a way that says just that. Needy and broken yet utterly completed by you.

You’re both so worked up with the overflowing emotions it doesn’t take much more than his frenzied grinding to make you both reach the release that’s as emotional as it physical. Maybe even more so.

Because the reward isn’t just a good orgasm. It’s the love that fills the air, spilling into every empty crevice you didn’t manage to fill with your bodies.

Homelander’s whimpers resemble cries as he finishes inside you right as you flutter around him with the toe-curling orgasm wracking your nerves.

It takes you a little while to regain your mental faculties after such an emotionally draining affair. You feel boneless, your limbs feel like jelly and you just lie there dazed. Focusing on the way your heart beats loud even to your ears.

Homelander is doing the same thing. Listening to your heartbeat with his head on your chest.

After a long while you both pull yourself together. Still in bed but now you’ve managed to strike up a normal conversation again. Talking about everything and nothing.

You lie like this for what feels like hours. Having changed positions you rest your head against his chest, ear pressed to his pecs to listen in on the steady beat of his heart.

After this reveal your brain recognizes your relationship as the utmost priority. Because of that your eyes lock onto the Kuddle Buddy plush resting just a foot away from Homelander’s head. As if you were locking onto an enemy. You pluck it from the pillow, squeezing it in your hand.

You’re staring at it, still clutching it too hard.

“What got you thinking so hard? You’re making my head hurt from how tense you are.” Homelander interrupts you from your thoughts.

“Just you. This. I can’t look at this stuff these days without—I don’t know—rage? To know how much Vought has wronged you.” You furrow your eyebrows, assessing the innocent plush toy while it’s staring back at you with its stitched grimace.

“That’s what the toy reminds you of, really? It should remind you of me.”

“It doesn’t anymore.” Your furrowed expression slowly melts into one of content as your hand presses against your new necklace. “Things like these do.”

“And these.” Your fingers continue to travel up your neck where they tap at the darkened patches you feel he has left behind. With soft nipping and sucking he left your neck coloured in all shades.

He plucks the plush toy from your hands, throwing it somewhere across the room with thankfully not enough strength to knock anything else over. You’re pretty damn comfortable and you’d rather not get up to assess any damage.

“Maybe I should give you more reminders then.”

You squeal as he easily pulls you up so his lips can meet yours, kissing your worries out of your mind.

Homelander lands on your balcony with a soft thud. It’s late in the afternoon, earlier than he normally arrives, and he doesn’t want to attract unwanted attention. Already predicting the shit Madelyn would put him through if he got caught regularly perusing outside some random person’s apartment.

His person’s apartment really. You’re not just a random boring nobody.

He makes his way in quietly, closing the door and stepping in. Each time coming back to your apartment has felt more like coming home than he’s ever felt at Vought. You’ve arranged your life around him. He’s noticed you cancel plans, call off events just so you could stay in in the evening, waiting for him to make his return.

You even make space for him in your small apartment. The state of which he’d normally scoff at but it’s hard to mock your financial situation when you manage to make the place feel warm.

His presence left its mark in the gifts you happily displayed or the flowers you always took good care of.

And of course, the insane collection of merchandise you’ve spent years accumulating.

Wait.

Where is everything?

Homelander looks around, breaking out of his routine and instead he scans the surroundings as if it’s the first time he’s ever been here. Only now does he realize that all the usual merchandise carrying his likeness is gone. No posters on the walls. No action figures on the shelves. No funko pops. No collectibles. Nothing.

Homelander feels his blood pressure rise. There’s no way you’d want to get rid of him. Not you too. You love him. You wouldn’t do that.

He finally notices the black trash bags pushed into the kitchen, still open and overflowing with all the things missing from your walls.

His stomach flips.

No. Nonono. This can’t be happening.

You can’t get rid of him like this. He can’t lose you.

Not after he’s finally tasted what real love in cooking tastes like. Or what it’s like to wake up next to someone who instead isn’t pushing you away straight after sex. Someone who makes an effort for him. Not out of fear but out of love.

He mentally compares everything you’ve changed his perception on.

Like when you give him a gift or help him out it’s different. Vought employees being at his beck and call could never compare.

He’s the most powerful man in the world, with means that don’t feel like they have an end yet he could never buy the love you give freely. For once, love doesn’t feel like pulling teeth. It feels like a warm embrace on a cold winter night.

You make it easy. You don’t fake it. And most importantly you do it unconditionally. Love him through thick and thin, the devotion to him a part of your very core. Your love is overwhelming, oozing and sticky like he’s never gonna be able to get rid of it. Just like you could never get rid of him.

You’re the only one who hasn’t left him.

Exactly. It can’t be. You wouldn’t.

This has to be some kind of a mistake.

The shuffle of your slippers against the floor breaks him out of his spiraling thoughts. He looks up sharply. Seeking some sort of explanation.

“Hey baby. You’re early today—what’s wrong?” The smile drops from your face as quickly as he sees it and it’s only then he realizes his hand is shaking. He squeezes it into a fist, the leather creaking with the pressure as he takes in a labored breath with a jittery shake to his head.

“W-uh-what is… What are you doing?” He blinks rapidly, shaking his head pretending that his voice doesn’t quiver and waver the way it does.

“Bit of spring cleaning. After we talked the other night I just can’t look at this stuff and not think how much Vought has used you. I don’t want those reminders. It’s not what I thought it was and now that you opened my eyes to it, I can’t forget. So. Out with it.” You say so casually, not picking up on the panic he’s been going through in his head.

“Oh—okay.” He lets out a visible breath of relief, his posture relaxing. “I thought—” His jaw tightens and he looks away. Thought so heartbreaking, he doesn't want to give it voice.

“You thought I was getting rid of you?” You stop what you are doing. Putting the box on the couch and instead you walk up to him, hand on his jaw you turn him back to look at you.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy.” You kiss him, and Homelander melts right into it. He lets himself melt into the loving embrace of your pliant lips.

“Good. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.” When you pull away he puts his hands on your jaw, tilting your head as if he was inspecting you. Seeing if what you’re saying is true. And he can’t see a single speck of a lie with the steady beats of your heart and the taste of love on your lips.

“So what are you doing with all of it?”

“Selling it, donating or trashing some I guess.”

“Why not sell it all?”

“You can buy a Homelander poster or card at any shop for a few bucks. I'm not gonna bother with those.”

“What if I sign them?”

“Oh please don’t waste your time. You’re not here to be a show pony.”

“Nonsense, come on. Bring it out.”

Homelander ends up taking the stack of posters with his or the Seven’s likeness from the top of the trash bag, placing them on the coffee table in front of the couch. He sits down, hooking his cape out of the way. He picks up a pen off the table already signing the first poster.

Part of him is still upset that you feel like throwing a part of him away. Is this part of him not good enough for you anymore? It’s how he found you, how he got to know you and now it feels like you’re throwing it away.

As if you could read his thoughts you sit down next to him, placing your hand on top of his as he’s halfway through his signature.

His head snaps up towards you, expression clearly guarded while he looks you over with his piercing blue gaze.

He carries his upset so visibly it would be hard even for someone as unaware as you to miss it. His smile is tight, not even attempting to reach his eyes.

You pull the pen out of his grip, instead wrapping your hand around his. The other one goes to his hair, scratching your nails down his scalp until you reach his undercut where you play with the shortly buzzed hair.

“I’m not getting rid of you. Not now. Not ever.”

At that he leans into you, nearly purring at the pleasure your scalp massage brings him. The way you touch him with no hesitation will never cease to amaze him. There’s enough love pouring off you to almost fill the black hole in his heart.

It was exhilarating to have someone so eager to keep him in their life. Everyone else has just pushed him away, entertained him until they got what they wanted. Not you. You give and give and give. Sometimes he’s scared you’ll run out of love to shower him with. However, one look at you tells him that the love you carry feels just as much of a burden as his need for it does to him. You free each other by sharing the love. You feed his insatiable beast of a heart and he lets you burst the dam free without feeling like you’re not allowed to.

The posters are forgotten about. Any hurt brushed away with a press of his lips to yours. Needy and hungry, wanting to see if you can prove your words with actions. Again and again.

And you do. Like you’ve done a hundred times before and just like you will do thousands of times over.

Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged when I post a new Homelander fic)

@morishitoshi @ker0senebunny @itsvaleriesucka @thychuvaluswife

@nervoussystemss @littlegaaby @natliecole @thatvintagefanboy

@infinetlyforgotten @rafecamsgirlll @hom3landr @mrsdesade

@nommingonfood

#yayyyy it's done #I need to learn to keep my chapters at a reasonable word count honestly #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander #homelander fanfiction #my writing #the boys fanfiction

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baronessvonglitter · 2 days

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Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 18 🍒 "I Wanted It To Be You"

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 7,467

Summary: Moving on from Joel, your life takes many unexpected courses: college, marriage.. yet you keep wondering What If..?

(Warnings contain spoilers, so please check beneath the cut if you're curious)

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (the difference is 17 years, and there are a few time skips throughout this chapter), starts in late 2003 and ends in 2023, Angst Angst Angst, brief mention of jailtime, breakup, parental issues, heavy on the mom guilt, underage drinking, dry humping, anonymous drunk sex (never ever do this, folks), vomit, reader going through a slutty era after getting her heart broken (just like Joel in Chapter 14), allusions to smut, time skips (labeled), panic attack, mention of drugs and alcohol, rough sex, creampie, surprise pregnancy, infidelity, lil bit of a makeout sesh with Tommy, semi-public sex, pussy pronouns, light degradation, Ellie is Joel's daughter, mention of cyberstalking (not as serious as it sounds), mention of reader having a therapist, Joel and Tess are married. If I left anything out, please LMK!

Author's Note: this took forever to write because the more I edited the more I wanted to add. And I know this chapter has quite a few time skips, I just wanted to highlight the important parts as much as I could. ALSO: I apologize for the unrealistically speedy law process at the beginning. I have no idea how that situation would pan out, but it would almost definitely drag out for months if not years.

So much angst here, but now the reader is all grown up! I wanted to add the convo with Sarah but this chapter was already getting so long, and I think it'll fit better in the next installment anyway.

Series Masterlist

"I would've said yes."

You've lost count of how many voicemails you leave Joel, who's been ignoring your calls, but this is the only time you say it, that you admit your love could have gone a different way if you'd just gotten back to that hotel room together.

You replay that night over and over in your head, but with different endings. In a perfect world, your father would never have even been there in the first place. In a separate, less perfect world, you would not have called out to him, just ignored him the way he ignored you. Then you'd have some peace of mind, and you'd belong with the man you love.

Each time you call Joel, you expect to hear his gruff voice on the other end of the line. And soon enough the ringing stops and goes straight to voicemail, where you leave him the words of your bleeding, broken heart:

"I would've said yes."

You haven't taken the ring out of its box, worried you'll jinx whatever luck you have left. Joel is supposed to kneel, take your hand in his, and place the ring on your finger. You've never envisioned what getting engaged would look like, but it definitely bears some semblance to tradition.

When Chris refused to press charges, the law stepped in and did it for him. Thirty days in the Bexar County Jail is what they sentenced Joel. That was why you couldn't reach him, why you felt like you were hitting a brick wall. It's a relief when you're finally able to speak to him.

"I'm so sorry," you cry to him over the phone, his voice like a warm and soothing balm. You imagine yourself curling into his embrace, allowing his arms to enfold you, make you small and safe, hidden from the dangers and ugliness of the world.

"You ain't got nothin' to be sorry for," he grunts.

"I love you." You sound pitiful over the phone but you don't care. "Joel, let me come see you and we can work it out. Please."

He sighs. "I got somethin' I need to tell you. Might change your mind how ya feel about me."

"What?" you ask quickly, your young mind scrambling to imagine what he could say, as if to fortify your already shattered heart. Your stomach sinks, nausea threatening to make the bile rise in your throat. "Joel, what is it?"

He's quiet for awhile and when he speaks it's monotone. "I've been seein' someone else."

It sounds like he's speaking a foreign language. You shake your head, looking at your wall calendar. It's only December. You last saw him in late September. The biblical manger scene on the church calendar your mom put on the fridge is an evil harbinger of time now lost.

"Who?" you ask, dreading the answer.

"Doesn't matter," he says gruffly, sounding uncomfortable.

"Tell me who," you insist.

With a deep sigh he relents. "Hailey."

Again, it's like hearing a foreign language. "Hailey? The girl I worked with? The one who went to Sarah's party? That Hailey?"

"Yeah."

"How.. how did this happen?"

"Ran into her at a bar my first night out of jail. I was lonely and she was.. she was there for me."

"What do you mean? Did you-" you take a moment to breathe, try not to let your emotions take over.

"I slept with her. That's all it is between us, just fuckin'."

It's like a punch in the gut. No, worse. It's a blade plunging into your heart over and over.

In a blur of upset and disappointment, you utter the words of anyone who's ever had a broken heart: "How could you do this to me?"

There's no answer for it from his side. His refusal to go into detail feels like he's hiding his fling with Hailey on purpose, withholding part of his new life to you, but you never stop to think he might be saving you from the pain he knows is due.

You cry after hanging up on him. You cry more than you did when he left you in San Antonio. You cry until you can no longer see because your eyes are puffy, nearly tiny slits that still somehow shed tears when you think of Joel with your ex-friend.

Once the sadness has been cried out, there remains only rage, simmering and profound. With small, practiced movements, you take the engagement ring in its box and mail it to Joel's address. No note, and no explanation needed.

"You're not yourself," your mom mentions one night when you push your plate away, your dinner barely touched.

"Not hungry," you mumble.

She sighs in exasperation. "I don't know what to do with you. You won't talk to me." She pushes her own plate away and downs the rest of her cheap wine. "You come home from God-knows-where, with a damn bruise on your face."

You touch your cheek where your father had accidentally knocked you backwards, wishing it was the only physical pain you endured from that night.

"..you don't bother with the chores anymore, you lock yourself away in your room, probably not even studying. Do you even attend classes anymore? Do you even care about your future?" she continues.

"No," you say quite simply.

"No??"

You shake your head and shrug, as if answering something as easy as 'do you want to watch a movie later?'

"I don't. Give. A shit."

Anita scoffs, refilling her glass. "Great. That's just great. Maybe I'll drink this entire bottle and give myself alcohol poisoning. Then I wouldn't have to deal with your shitty attitude anymore."

The scrape of your chair as you push away from the table is as loud as nails on a chalkboard. "You want me to talk? I'll talk." You lean forward, relishing this moment where your mom looks scared as shit.

"I said I was in College Station, but I lied. I was fucking Joel every weekend I was away. We met up in hotel rooms and fucked each other's brains out. And the best part of it all was that he loved me," your voice breaks but you're wickedly delighted by the look of shock and disgust on your mother's face.

You're on a tirade now that can't be stopped. "Two months ago I found Dad in San Antonio. I did," you nod, a psychotic kind of laughter breaking from you when she gawks. "And do you know what? He's forgotten all about us. He has a new family, new kids, new young wife. And he doesn't give a shit about you or me. He never really has, has he?" You realize you're standing, towering over her as you spit out all the venom she's ever poured into you right back at her.

"Now.. how does it feel to have the truth shoved in your face? To be deprived of the fantasy world you wanted so badly to live in, cushioned by your idiotic pretenses? Because I'll bet you could've gone your whole life not knowing, staying innocent. Well, Mother Dearest, fuck you."

Without a word you pack your things, your body moving way ahead of your brain, stuffing every necessary item into a couple of bags before you leave her house, with the intention to never return again.

Summer 2004 Louisiana

Staying with friends in a shitty apartment, you finish the rest of the semester before transferring to another school. Three schools in one year probably isn't a very good look on your transcript, but it's the first choice you make that is truly your own. Working two jobs over the summer you finally have the money you need to survive as you begin a new chapter in Louisiana.

You do everything in your power to get over Joel. The first step was deleting his number from your phone, even though you've already memorized it by heart. To be safe, you also delete Tommy's number, and Sarah's. It feels final, and a small part of you wishes they could get a notification informing them you no longer consider them important enough to keep, even as data.

It still stings when you think of Joel with Hailey. She's older, more experienced, and can probably do whatever he wants without being asked. After you've deleted the Millers from your contact list, you hover over Hailey's name, pressing it and, in a moment of antagonism, send her a text. I thought you were my friend, Turns out you're just a fucking slut Then you delete and block her number.

Dating other guys doesn't come very easy. It's as if they can smell the heartbreak on you, sense your loneliness and unease, the untempered anger simmering below the surface of your smile. You're a walking red flag and you know it, but that doesn't stop you.

You grind on a guy at a club after he buys you a few appletinis. Never mind that he's twenty five and trying to get you drunk so you'll fuck him. With your twenty-dollar Charlotte Russe dress hiked up as you drag your sopping panties over his clothed hardness, he sucks the apple flavor off your tongue, one hand gripping your hips while the other slips inside your underwear to rub your clit and you come for the first time in months. So loud, in fact, that you're caught and promptly kicked out of the club. When your partner (you never remember his name) asks to continue at his place, you decline, already walking to the next bar.

Once the high wears off, you are consumed with guilt as you think of Joel. What would he say if he found out? Would he even care? Maybe he's fucking Hailey right now.

And it hits you that it's already been a year since you first slept with him.

You pause in the middle of the street, coming back to earth when a car honks at you, cursing at you to hurry up and fucking move dumb bitch!

Walking on, you can't get the memory of the feel of Joel out of your head: the way his tongue licked into your mouth, fingers traveling down to play between your folds, telling you he needed you nice and wet before he fucked you, those thick fingers slipping in and playing you like a well tuned instrument, his lips gliding over your throat, resting just above your pulse point, then finding their way down the slope of your breasts, taking each nipple between his lips, his beard rasping against your skin.

You try to force the thought away, but it returns manifold. His mouth, the stiffened warmth of his tongue lapping at your cunt, drinking up every fucking drop and telling you you taste so sweet. He doesn't stop until you come more than once, finally fitting himself inside you, teasing you with the first few inches. Sure you can handle the rest, babygirl? before sliding in in one smooth thrust, joining you body and soul, moving against you just how you need.

You cover your face with your hands and wander into an alley, overcome with despair at the loss of your love, the loss of what innocence you thought you had. Both of those things given to someone who only saw fit to fuck you as he wished and discard when he couldn't handle the reality of your personal life.

"Are you okay?" a voice asks, approaching softly from behind. You turn and see a man, another college student like yourself, dressed in jeans and a striped button down. His features blur together until all you hear is his soft Southern accent and all you smell is his Curve cologne. The next thing you know you're kissing him, begging him to touch you, fuck you, and then he's spinning you to face the wall, dress hiked up, panties pulled down. Your arms support you against the wall as he pushes into you from behind and all you think about is him fucking the pain away, pumping into you hard and fast. He's nowhere near as big as Joel, but you've been so touch starved that the sounds coming out of your mouth are shameless.

Without warning you vomit, splashing your shoes and the wall in front of you with appletini puke, and the guy pulls out immediately, getting away from you as fast as he can, tucking himself back into his jeans.

You rest your forehead against the cool brick wall, spitting out the sour taste in your mouth as tears weep freely from your eyes.

September 2004

At the start of sophomore year you're the only one who doesn't have family come down to help move in, to visit with and take silly, memorable photos with. Nobody comes to your dorm and helps you decorate and put your belongings away. By the time your assigned roommate comes with her parents and little brother you're already set up, fresh sheets on your twin bed, your side already claimed.

You're reading when she comes in, a young girl, freshman, with hope in her eyes, excited to meet you, looking forward to her new life away from Montana or Missouri or wherever she says she's from. You're barely listening.

Who you do notice is her dad: mid-forties, slight beer belly, wearing a polo shirt and cargo pants with brand new New Balance shoes. You make eye contact immediately before he shifts his gaze away. His daughter, your new roommate Jessica, starts to unpack, asking you questions about the classes, what student groups to join. You offer what advice you can, stretching out on your bed in your tank top and running shorts. Her dad's eyes roam over your curves when his wife and kids aren't looking, and you unabashedly flirt back, making sure your shorts ride up, pulling down your tank just a little to expose more cleavage.

Once they leave for a quick tour around the campus you're back to your reading.

Jessica's dad comes back. Alone.

"I think I forgot my wallet in here," he says, giving a forced look of timidity as he checks his pockets.

"You didn't," you smirk, putting your book down and sitting up. "But you can stay if you want.."

He doesn't make an excuse about his family and you wouldn't care if they walked in anyway. Once the door is locked his hands are on your body, grabbing your ass while your hand goes down his pants. You tell him exactly what will make you come, and he does it so willingly it almost touches your heart.

Later as he's leaving and you're trying to get his cum off your bedsheets, he's asking you not to say anything to his daughter, as if you'd proudly exclaim that you fucked him, having barely remembered his name.

You're learning that a lot of men are the same at their very core.

You're a fantasy for the older ones, a college coed with daddy issues and an IUD. Having already been with an older man, you know just what they like, and when you give it you live for the way their eyes light up, and a little of their youth comes back to them for a moment.

It's almost pitiful how easy you figure out the opposite sex. Once you know what they want it's easy to become that, to dress how they want, to feign interest in the things they like, even to keep your thoughts to yourself. You learn to live inside your head, which until now has been the hardest thing to do.

But it's necessary when you're holding onto the headboard of some frat guy's bed while fake moaning as he's holding your hips, going as fast as he can because that's what they do in porn. Each and every guy has a Scarface poster above the bed, or Playboy centerfolds taped to the walls, neon lava lamps on the nightstand along with CDs by Kanye West, Franz Ferdinand, or Velvet Revolver. Your thoughts are elsewhere as you give halfhearted head.

You learn to feel nothing, not even pleasure, because they certainly can't tell that you fake every sigh and gasp.

But the older men, the professors, TA's, even men you meet off campus at the bars in town.. they are what interest you. It's not common for you to find yourself bent over a desk during your professor's office hours, or with your panties around your ankles when a one-on-one study session turns to something else.

You fuck men who remind you of Joel because you can't fuck Joel. It's his hands on you instead of theirs, his breath hot on your ear.. but no one else can fill the part of you that Joel hollowed out for himself when he made you his on a hot Texas summer night.

Though you think about him every day, soon enough, you start to wonder whether he was ever even real, or just someone you made up.

March 2006

Spring Break finds you at a beach house on the coast. The friends you came with are nowhere to be found, and you're pretty sure your drink is laced with something. The music is so loud that you hurry out into the night, seeking solace before the roaring waters of the gulf, black water topped with silver waves. Their rushing sound is soothing, yet you sink to your knees because your world is too heavy.

"I'm dying," you whisper to yourself, crying. Your chest feels tight. It's so hard to breathe, and it feels like your heart will explode.

Only one person on the entire planet comes to mind, and after all this time you still remember his number. You dial it, fingers savoring the press of each button on your phone. How many times have you called Joel and hung up before he could answer? There have been a couple of times when you dialed him while having sex, not sure if he ever picked up, hoping that he heard you moving on and moving away from him. That'll show him.

But you can't even breathe to talk to him. And what if he doesn't answer? What if he's changed his number?

You leave all his numbers entered on the screen but you don't hit the call button. Not yet. You have to think of something to say. Tell him you love him before your body rejects the air it's trying so desperately to claim into your lungs.

"Hey, are you all right?" a gentle voice asks behind you, and a hand is on your shoulder.

You flashback to that night in the alley, the guy who took advantage of you, but this time it doesn't go that way.

A man with soulful eyes and a kind smile kneels next to you, his hand remaining on your shoulder. "I think you're having a panic attack. Can I help you with that?" His voice is as kind and gentle as he looks, and you nod.

"Can you breathe for me? Like this." He inhales deeply and slowly, and when you try it it feels so foreign but you manage it.

"There you go," he says quietly. "Now breathe out.."

Soon he has your breathing back to normal, and you don't have to force your body to do what it naturally does.

"Tell me five things you can see," he continues.

A shaky breath in. Hey, at least it's a breath. "Um.. the water.. the sand.. the moon.. you.."

That's when you get your first good look at him, beyond the smile that works its warmth into your heart, and the eyes that search yours, exuding humanity that you haven't experienced in a long time. He's really cute. You can't deny that your heart skips a couple of beats.

"One more thing?" he says, his voice soft.

You snap back to reality. "Uh.. a ship.. out there in the distance?"

He glances behind him at the water, seeing the great big liner, possibly a cruise ship, on the inky horizon, and takes a seat next to you. "How are you feeling now?" he asks.

"Good.. I think. Better." You nod. "Thank you."

"May I?" he lifts your hand from your lap and turns the palm up, his fingers poised above your pulse point. You nod again.

He presses his touch to your wrist, and you watch his eyes calculating, his lips silently moving while counting. Despite everything you've been through the past two years, this is the most intimate thing you've felt.

"Your pulse is normal." He gently places your hand back on your lap. "Do you want to go back to the party or do you want to stay out here a little longer? If you want to go back," he adds, "I'll be with you, make sure you're okay."

You opt to stay on the beach, embracing the quiet for a little longer. This is the first time a man has had you alone and hasn't tried to fuck you. It's nice, for once.

Towards the end of the night he leads you back to the party house, guiding you through the throng of people there, the air rife with alcohol and the pungent aroma of weed. You're holding his hand, you realize as you walk together. He's your lifeline in this very moment. You grab your jacket and purse from one of the bedrooms, passing by couples making out, some slipping into rooms to do much more than kissing. To think you could have easily ended up there with a random guy makes your skin crawl.

"What was your name again?" you shout to him over the music.

"Justin!"

"Dustin?"

"Justin!"

You both laugh. You tell him your name and of course he mishears you.

He drives you to the small motel room you're sharing with your friends who are inevitably crashing at the beach house, too drugged or drunk or fucked to return for the night.

Justin smiles at you as the engine idles. "Is it okay if I ask you out?"

You exchange numbers, your heart thrumming with a pleasant nervousness. You haven't had a boyfriend since..

..not since Joel.

Don't think about him.

"You can reach out to me if you ever just feel like talking," he says. "I'm here."

So you do, and after a week of texting and a couple of late night calls and getting to know each other, you go for a date for the first time in three years.

Justin picks you up in a Honda Civic, and as you get comfy in the passenger seat you breathe in the scent of the black ice air freshener and his spearmint gum. The radio blasts Smashing Pumpkins at a level you know is too much but it only adds to the excitement of the evening.

He's a year older than you, native to Louisiana, and on leave from the Army.

Living just a half hour from your campus, you start to spend much of your time together. Movie dates, dinner dates, and dates where you just drive around, talking about nothing and everything.

You only sleep with him three months into your relationship, desiring to take things slow for once, to know him better than you have ever known anyone.

It's nice. It's like what you see in the movies, two people wrapped up in each other, soft, no words needed. For once your head isn't forced down into the pillow, or your pussy spit on. For once it's just normal, and normal feels so good.

June 2008 New Orleans, LA

Bourbon Street is alive, electric, no matter that it's a Sunday night. People will drift into work tomorrow still drunk on Zombies and Hurricanes. The entire street reeks of piss, but people either don't care or have been here long enough that it no longer harasses their senses. But more often than not, people are having too much of a good time to care.

You're behind the bar at little hole-in-the-wall place, slinging daiquiris and kamikaze shots when you hear a familiar voice and a tap on your shoulder. "Hey there, Cherry."

You turn and your eyes go wide. "Tommy!" You reach over the bar to hug him, nearly spilling a beer on him in the process. "It's been ages! How are you?

He looks older, more mature, even though it's only been five years since you last saw him: he's letting his facial hair grow, but his eyes still sparkle with mirth and kindness. "It's good to see you, girl." He's no longer with Sofia, their romance having ended a few years before, on friendly terms or so your cousin claimed. You always blamed yourself for the demise of their relationship, believing that your breakup with Joel cast a shadow over her own connection with Tommy.

"What are you doing here?" you ask.

"We're good, just here in town, expanding the business."

"We?" Your hands start to shake, and you put away the bottle of gin you have your grasp on. Your heart starts to pound before the next words even leave his mouth.

"Yeah, me and Joel are lettin' off a little steam, wanted to toss back a few before we go back to the hotel."

You feel his eyes on you before you're even aware that he's here. Looking up, at a small table near the entrance, is Joel Miller. Your heart stops, and you don't know how it is you're still alive. He looks you up and down, appraising every feature and detail about you, and you wonder if you've changed in five years or not. You wonder if he still loves or hates you.

"...and we thought this was that bar where girls dance and pour tequila down guys' throats, but this is just as good 'cause you're here."

Tommy manages to snap you out of your trance. "Oh.. you mean Coyote Ugly.."

"Yeah, they opened one in Austin a couple years back but this one ain't never wanna go nowhere," he motions back with his head to Joel.

You return your gaze to the older brother but he's no longer looking at you, his glance dotting along the crowd, following a younger woman as she saunters up to him, smiling, flirting. Your stomach turns and you force a smile at Tommy.

"Whatever you want is on me."

Tommy's smile and laughter is infectious. "You sure about that, Cherry?"

"I'm sure," you say, pouring out a shot for yourself. "You know, nobody's called me that in a long time."

"What's that?" he catches a bright sparkle on your left hand, and quickly takes it within his own. "Cherry, you didn't tell me you were engaged!"

Joel must have one ear straining to listen because Tommy's outburst got his attention right away and he swivels his head to look at you.

"Yeah.. he's a nice guy." That's how you describe Justin to everyone: he's a nice guy. He'd proposed last year after your one year dating anniversary. "He's in the Army, they're shipping him out a week after our wedding. And I'm going with him."

"He's a good guy if he's an Army man," Tommy approves, just as Joel approaches, the woman he was talking to now gone. "So? Are we invited to the weddin'?"

You can't tell if he's teasing or not, and Joel's poker face gives zero indication as well. "I already sent out save-the-dates, but if you'd like to come I won't object. The more the merrier." For the first time you see Joel up close and your heart stutters, an irregular beat that you'd gotten used to in the aftermath of your disastrous breakup.

He's still so fucking handsome: the dark brown of his hair fading to what you can already see as gray, with gray patches in his beard. There are more lines around his eyes. There's still that jolt of electricity when your gazes meet.

"You happy?" he asks, his countenance giving nothing away of his true feelings, so it's difficult to gage whether he's legitimately asking, or simply being nice.

"I'm happy." But it sounds forced, like taking the pliers to your own mouth to fix your own abscess.

Joel only nods as you pour a couple whiskeys for them. "To Cherry getting married!" Tommy beams his salute and the three of you down the shots quickly.

It's sometime after your shift, and you're in the parking lot with Tommy, his arms around you as he presses you to the side of his truck. Or maybe it's Joel's truck. You don't know and you don't care, all you want is to feel something again. The nearness of Joel all night has rewired your brain, and as Tommy deepens the kiss, you're disappointed that it's not Joel's taste, not Joel's scent that surrounds you. Luckily he's not a bad kisser, and his hands roam everywhere you want them to be.

Better the wrong Miller than no Miller at all, your whiskey-soaked brain tells you.

"Always thought you were pretty," he whispers, hands palming your breasts over your shirt. "But you were Joel's from the moment he set eyes on ya, told me so himself. Leave that one alone, she ain't for you.'"

"He didn't want me enough.." your voice cracks as tears spill effortlessly down your cheeks.

"Don't cry," he says gently. "I don't got any tissues with me." He uses his thumb to wipe away your tears. "Still want me to give you a ride home?"

You nod, telling him you need to make a quick trip to the ladies' room to fix your makeup, and in the narrow hallway where the restrooms are hidden from the rest of the bar, you run into Joel.

"Sorry," you mumble, trying to get around him, but he puts his large hand on your shoulder to stop you.

"You gonna take my brother home and fuck him? Then marry some Army jackass?" he says as in disbelief.

You put your guard up, tougher now than you were five years ago. "What I do is my business. By the way, how's Hailey?"

"Who?"

"Don't play dumb." You push past him and start for the women's room to fix your makeup when Joel stops you again.

"You ain't gonna fuck my brother tonight, or any other night, babygirl," he utters.

There's a fire lit under you now. "Oh? What are you, the Morality Police? Fuck off."

"Fuck me," he says. "You know you want to. You're probably wet from Tommy, and I appreciate his gettin' ya ready for me, but I notice the subtler signs: your eyes are glistenin', you've been lickin' your lips every time you look at me, and you probably haven't noticed, but your nipples are pokin' right through your shirt. I bet they're just beggin' for attention, huh?"

He says all this while just standing in front of you, not crowding you like any other guy would. And you realize he's not even trying to rile you up. He's giving you a choice.

"What makes you think I want you? I have a good man who loves me. He's all I need."

"Needs and wants are different, babygirl. Once you're married you're stuck with him til' death. Hope you realize that."

"I'm aware." But it's already hit you: you'll be with Nice Justin for the rest of your life. You'll be a Nice Wife and maintain a Nice Home for the inevitable Nice Kids you'll have. You hate Joel for putting this thought in your head.

"He fuck you like I did?" he asks in an intimate tone.

You shake your head, already pulling him into the restroom with you. "Joel, no one's ever fucked me like you did."

Your body delights in the quick, sweet reunion with him. It's as if time has never separated you, as if both your hearts are whole again. His mouth greedily devours your kisses. He tastes like whiskey and cigarettes, the latter a bad habit. You're shoved into one of the stalls, fumbling with the lock while Joel's hands find their way across your body, one under your shirt, palming your breast, the other going into your jeans, expertly finding your soaked panties, crooking his fingers into your cunt.

Your back is pressed against his broad chest, his cock already hard inside his jeans, rubbing furiously against your lower back until he bends you forward to press against your ass, finally pulling your jeans and panties down in one go.

Too much time has passed for you to be gentle or even careful. He presses you to the stall door, nothing but heat and raw need between you. Words not needed, your only communication grunts and whispered curses that echo against the tiles of the cramped space.

"You ain't takin' no slow and gentle with me, sugar. i ain't got the patience for that right now." He nudges against you and it's a wonder you don't burn up with all the fire that inflames you. After so long it's a labor of love to fit him again, but as his fingers add pressure to your clit you get wetter, opening for him as easily as you did years ago.

"There she is," he says. "Been waitin' for me, been needin' a real man to fill ya up, ain't ya, babygirl?" he huffs in your ear, breath warm against your skin. "Answer me, baby."

"Yes.." your voice comes out in a hiss, your brain only thinking about his cock, the way it stuffs you, the only thing that completes you.

"That's what I thought. These lil' college boys don't know what to do with such a tight, pretty pussy. And neither does your fiance." He hikes one of your legs up, tucking your knee under his arm, keeping you nice and open, watching himself slide in and out of your weeping slit, slamming himself against you as he sinks his thumb into your puckered asshole, eliciting an all-but muffled gasp from you. "I know you called me just so I could listen to them fuckin' ya.. I know you never came with them, not once. This pussy is mine, has been from the very start."

You're no longer a virginal high school grad, and he takes what he wants from you, giving you what he knows you need.

The door opens but he doesn't stop, just quiets his own noises and clamps his hand over your mouth to squelch your sounds. The stall door jiggles and you put your hand over it until the person grumbles and walks away, muttering about having to piss. When they're gone Joel pumps into you relentlessly, chasing his pleasure and yours. He knows by now what will make you come, which combination of touches and kisses make your knees weak and your clit stand at attention.

"Fucking come for me, you little slut," he whispers, his tone almost loving if you didn't know better, and when you let go the pleasure is almost painful. Years of need and pent-up longing are released as your cunt squeezes around his rigid cock, milking him, smiling when you feel the warm spurt of his come as he presses deep at your cervix.

"That's my girl," he says proudly, your come spilling out already, lining his dick with a mix of both of you. "She's wrecked, split wide open like she's meant to be.. gonna send you back to your man drippin' with my come, used up like a good lil' whore."

His words add a sweet sting to the pleasure that has yet to ebb, resounding through your veins like thunder that takes its time in rolling away from the storm. Whore.. well, he's not wrong.

When your heavy breathing has subsided, you feel him start to slip out of you and you put your hand back on his thigh, a silent gesture to hold off.

"Missed you.. needed you," you mutter, tears of joy and relief and heartache brim in your eyes, until you allow the pleasure of the moment to take over without thought or feeling.

"I know.." he says softly, slipping out of you, careful as you're still sensitive.

That could have been the end. You could have gone your separate ways, but you're drawn to each other, and that doesn't go away easily. When you emerge from the rear entrance of the bar, Tommy looks up, and you can tell he expected that you'd end up with Joel instead. He simply nods as you pass him, walking with Joel to the tiny apartment you share with Justin, who's out of town visiting family. And as you and Joel spend the rest of the night locked in each other's embrace, you realize you don't care if he walks in on you, kicks you out, breaks off the engagement. You're with Joel and nothing else matters.

By dawn you wake up to find that he's gone, leaving only the scent of him on the pillow next to you. No note, no explanation, no goodbye. And once again you're sure you only dreamed up Joel Miller, used him as a mental escape for the life you were tying yourself down to.

It's very atypical for you to forgo a period, even at your most stressed, you can count on seeing that bright red stain on the toilet paper around the middle of every month. And when, by mid-July, you haven't even spotted, the first thing you do is take a pregnancy test.

All the men before have been careful, or you've been fortunate enough not to have a scare. But when you finally force yourself to look at the the little blue plus sign developing on the test strip, you realize this is no scare.

You're pregnant with Joel's baby.

The wedding takes place as expected, and your heart sinks when you walk down the aisle, seeing the joy on Justin's face. You've told him the baby is his, and he doesn't doubt it for a moment, that's how much he loves you. But for a fleeting moment you want so bad for it to be Joel at the altar instead.

The ceremony goes by in a blur, as everyone warned you it would. Group pictures are taken, the videographer is capturing the moments that photos alone can't encapsulate.

"Over here, honey!" photographer gets your attention. You barely hear him as you watch a figure walking out, one of the last guests to leave the church. From behind he looks like Joel, but you can't quite tell, and when your eyes fully focus, he's gone, and your own vision can't be trusted.

Tommy gave his regrets that he couldn't attend, and Joel simply never RSVP'd. But in your heart you know it was him, you know he had to come and see for himself that you're moving on, growing up and growing away from him. The only tether you have to him is the baby growing in your belly.

"Front and center, Mrs. Williams," Justin smirks, giving your cheek a soft kiss. "One more picture then we're onto the reception."

March 2009

Your daughter is born in the springtime, a loud and howling child from the moment she leaves you. The only time she's quiet is when she's in your arms.

"We need to decide on a name," Justin says, a little miffed that his daughter cries when he holds her despite his best efforts to soothe her.

"I told you, I like Ophelia," you say, gathering her into your arms to feed her.

"It's such a prissy name. And I can already tell she's not gonna be prissy."

"Then what do you suggest?" you ask tiredly. He doesn't seem to understand you've gone through labor for twenty four hours, only thinking of himself.

"Eleanor, after my mother."

You groan. "I always hated that name."

"Please, babe. It'll make her so happy to have her granddaughter as her namesake."

"Fine. Fine. But her middle name is Ophelia."

"Deal." Justin smiles as he fills out the paperwork.

"Eleanor.." you tell your baby. "But I'm going to call you Ellie."

Your mother once told you that when you become a parent, your life is not your own anymore. She said it as a kind of warning, a prophecy yet to be fulfilled when you were just a pre-teen, rolling your eyes at her warning you away from all kinds of danger.

You never expected she'd be right. Every waking moment holds more weight than ever before. Ellie is completely dependent on you, even as she grows and becomes more independent. It's you she looks to for validation when she does something right, and you she looks to when she knows she's in trouble.

She's smart as a whip, quick with a comeback and well versed in anything she can get her hands on. She excels in sports too-- individually, at first. As she gets older you notice a little bit of a mean streak in her. While she craves friends and wants to be part of a team, she has trouble making connections sometimes.

You have to wonder if part of that comes from Joel, his stubbornness and his lone wolf tendencies. Has he unknowingly passed down the most insecure parts of himself to his daughter? Sorry, his secondborn daughter?

Now there's literal proof of Joel Miller as a person, in human form, and she's trudging upstairs with her field hockey equipment and slamming her bedroom door.

Between the years of 2004 and 2008 you could almost convince yourself that he didn't exist, that he was a figment of your runaway imagination, born of a father complex and attachment issues. You work on yourself in therapy, feeling small as you divulge the innermost secrets of your heart and the intrusive thoughts, even going so far as to reveal that you've looked for Joel on social media, now that everyone has a profile.

Born of an intrusive thought, you type his name into the search bar on Facebook. Getting quite a few findings of those with the same name, you narrow the search. Joel Miller, Austin Texas His company logo comes up as its own page, and you notice it's changed, probably Tommy's idea as Joel never liked change.

Searching further you find his picture. There it is: Joel Miller, Boston Massachusetts

Huh?

You click on his profile while your heart thumps strongly within your ribcage. You wish you could let it out, set it free.

There he is, looking older than the last time you saw him, the grey more prominent in his hair, looking serious in his selfie. Even though it's just a selfie, a random moment in time, you can't help blushing, as if he's looking at you through the screen, appraising your own measure of aging. You wonder what you were doing that exact moment he took the picture.

But your hunger for knowledge needs to be fed, and scrolling down you swear you misread it at first.

Relationship status: Married

There's a roaring in your ears as your mouse hovers over the name next to those words: Tess Servopoulos

From there you check out her profile, see that she's from Detroit, five years younger than Joel. While his profile pic is only of himself, hers shows them together, on a hiking trail somewhere, Joel's arms around her from behind.

You slam the laptop shut, your blood buzzing in your veins. You feel distractingly alive, the heartache spreading through every muscle and nerve ending. Your past is brought to full fucking focus.

Against your better judgment you open the screen again and search through Tess's photos, specifically the ones of Joel. Most of the comments are from a couple of guys named Bill and Frank, who after some digging you come to find are married, and friends with Joel and Tess. You hit the jackpot when you find a video she uploaded, a fifteen-second clip of Joel holding a baby. Your heart stops when you realize the baby isn't his but Sarah's, and he's now a grandfather.

It feels like you're spying on them. You know so much about them by now, and the one glaring omission is children. They don't seem to have any.

Going back to Joel's profile, you hover the mouse dangerously over the Add Friend button. When you click it, it's the strongest rush you've felt in ages.

Weeks later, he hasn't accepted it. The sparkle of your anticipation is dulled, and with a heavy heart you click to cancel the request.

A couple years down the road you get a notification from Facebook Messenger while you're watching Narcos.

Message Request. Sarah Miller Hey! It's been forever! How are you?

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

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#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #ao3 fanfic #pedro pascal characters #joel miller smut #pedro boys #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal character smut #pedro pascal cinematic universe #ppcu fandom #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu

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kingkat12 · 2 days

Text

quickie (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, party sex, semi-public sex, established relationship, drunk-ish sex, Roman is shameless and drunk lol, alcohol mentions

summary: Roman can't keep his hands off you-- no matter where you are.

word count: 1,581

It was hard to fight Roman’s grip around me, especially since he towered heads above me— I knew it was a lost cause.

However, I was pissed. Pissed about how he had behaved at tonight's party, and how he had managed to get so drunk that he was grabbing at me at every opportunity. “Rome,” I huffed, putting my hands on his chest to force some space between us after he had managed to get us both into the bathroom.

Roman, drunk off his ass, did his best to keep his balance. He swayed a little, looking down at me with those hungry eyes I knew too well; “What? I can’t touch my girl?”

“Not here!” When I was sure he wouldn’t fall onto the bathroom floor, I quickly ran over to the door to lock it properly. “We’re at Letha’s birthday party, can’t you keep yourself together?” Amid my annoyance, I scanned him; all dressed up in his white shirt, hair gelled back into a classic heartbreaker look. I couldn't deny it all made my heart beat faster.

Hiccuping, Roman blinked twice— he clearly saw no issue with having sex at his cousin’s party. “Why should I?” He stepped towards me, watching me press myself up against the door. “We haven’t been alone all week… Isn’t this just the perfect opportunity?”

I struggled to hold back a shiver. It was tempting, sure, but completely inappropriate. “I’m not having sex with you in a bathroom,” I mumbled, no longer meeting his strikingly green gaze. “Makes me feel cheap.”

“Cheap?” Roman’s arms snaked around me once more, his soft lips pressing a kiss to my temple. “You’re looking at it all wrong.”

I did my best to phase out the strong smell of brandy coming from my boyfriend— I wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of him when he was drunk. “And how am I supposed to look at it, then?”

He hummed against my skin, his fingers tracing circles into the back of my short, red dress. “Think of it more like… I can’t wait another second to be with you,” Roman placed a kiss against my cheek, drawing forth a pink-ish blush. “I want to feel you around me despite where we are, isn't that a nice thought? I would want you even if we were at a fucking trash compound.”

I could only laugh— he probably didn’t catch how big of a turn-off that image actually was, especially in his drunk state. “That sounds unsanitary,”

Roman chuckled, leaving behind a wet mark against my jaw after kissing me there. I closed my eyes, letting my head loll back against the door as I relished in the feeling; I had certainly missed this.

“I don’t care,” he eventually said, one hand trailing up to twist itself in the nape of my hair. With another tug, evoking a whimper, Roman kissed his way up to my ear, leaving me heaving for air— it reminded me that he could leave me breathless, no matter the situation.

I had to swallow my pride, realizing that his little scheme was working. “Someone could— hear,” Unexpectedly, my hips bucked forward in the middle of my sentence as Roman pressed a ridiculously soft kiss against my ear. My hands gripped his shirt, panting. “And you’re— you’re drunk!”

Roman hummed, a sinister, low laugh escaping him. “Let…” His hands dropped, fingers dipping past the edge of my dress as he slowly pulled it up along my thighs. I shuddered, bringing his face into my hands as I watched his green eyes sparkle with lust. “Me…” The dress was now at my waist, Roman’s eyes hungry scouring my underwear. He didn’t spend a lot of time looking (he had always been more of a do-er, anyways) before he leaned forward, pressing a kiss against my lower abdomen. My breath hitched as Roman bunched up my dress, digging his long digits into my waist as he licked a stripe up to my navel, listening to my whimpers as he held me back from squirming. “Fuck…” He came up shortly after, a satisfied smirk on display across his full lips as he pressed me flush against him, connecting us with a passionate, fiery kiss. As he pulled away, I realized how dizzy I was— and I was about to beg him to do it again, until he slowly turned me around to face the door. My eyes were wide as Roman’s last words were whispered against my ear; “… You.”

At this point, I was practically gelatin in his arms. I could only nod, struggling to breathe as Roman kissed down my exposed neck, now grinding the hardness of his cock up against my ass with a relieved sigh. “Is that a yes?” he whispered, gently driving his teeth into my shoulder.

I whimpered— I couldn’t fight it anymore. “Yeah,”

“Oh, thank God,” Roman’s grip around me tightened, proceeding to press passionate nips and bites up my neck. “I’ve wanted you all night… All fucking night.”

I had to suppress the urge to roll my eyes. “Don’t remind me,”

Roman laughed, his hands taking in the softness of my skin against his rough ones before they traveled further down. “Now, now... Don’t get all sassy on me,”

My eyes sprung wide open as his hands ghosted over my underwear, and I let out a wanton moan as his fingers brushed over my clit. “Sorry,” I tried, my apology quickly turning into a trail of profanities as he used two fingers to press down against me, rubbing me through my underwear as I leaned my forehead against the door in defeat. “Shit, shit—”

Roman hummed into my shoulder, clearly happy with the results of his plot. “So, my girl likes to be touched now, hm?”

Fucker— he knew damn well.

“Does she?” he teased, his tone only fueling the fire in my body.

I could barely reply; my mind was dulled down by the feeling of Roman’s fingers rubbing tight, firm circles against my clit.

He smirked, pressing several kisses against my shoulder. “Yes, she does,”

Oh, Roman and his dirty mouth— I couldn’t take it. “We— We can’t be in here for too long,” I tried, panting into the wood of the door. “People will get, hah—suspicious.”

Thankfully, my boyfriend seemed to agree. “We’ll make it quick, then,” Roman wasted no time, a whine escaping my lips as his hands deserted the aching need between my legs. He hooked his fingers around my underwear, dragging it down and leaving it around my thighs before he reached for his zipper.

“This is so stupid,” I mumbled, trying to catch my breath in the meantime. “I can’t believe we’re doing this—” My words came to a halt as Roman’s thick cock eased into me, and I let out a choked moan as I tried to support myself with the door. All my morals suddenly flew out the window; this felt too good to fight.

Roman suppressed his sigh of relief against my shoulder, quickly recovering from the wave of pleasure upon entering me. “Come again?” he teased, digging his fingers into my hips as he slowly stroked further into me with each thrust.

My breath hitched, holding back a cry of rapture as I moved to meet every pump of his cock—I couldn’t believe how much I had missed this. “Rome,” I cried, placing one hand over his. “A-Aah—”

“Shh,” Roman pressed soft kisses against my neck, bucking into me. “Not so loud, baby… Wouldn’t want anyone to hear, would we?”

Crap— I had to force myself to be aware of my surroundings. It suddenly hit me that we were fucking in Letha’s bathroom, and how we definitely didn’t want to be caught in here; no one would ever let me live that down. So I bit down on my bottom lip, letting my lids fall heavy over my eyes as Roman’s cock stroked into me, the angle allowing him to brush against my sweet spot over and over.

It didn’t take long before I started to feel on the brink of delirium—it certainly didn’t help my state when Roman reached around my body, rubbing my clit with the rhythm of his thrusts. I couldn’t help but turn a bit, reaching forward to tug his brown hair, a satisfaction building deep inside of me as I heard him suppress a moan against my shoulder.

It didn’t take long before Roman’s lips came crashing against mine in a passionate kiss, which soon enough ended up with the both of us panting against one another, chasing our highs.

“You feel—Fuck, you feel so, so—” Roman let out a grunt as my walls clenched around him, his green eyes rolling back just slightly.

The sight of that alone nearly sent me over the edge, but it was the sweet kiss he pressed against my temples that did it for me. That, along with the continuous thrusts of Roman’s cock and the firm circles against my clit, made me cry out against the door.

The physical motions of my orgasm gripped around Roman’s girth, drawing forth a moan as he spilled into me, the warmth of his cum almost instantaneously seeping out of me.

As our panting filled the room, it dawned on me that I had done the exact opposite of what I had told myself tonight. With that realization, I couldn’t help but break our moment of rapture with a giggle—“We’re so doing this again,”

Roman smiled as he leaned down, leaving a trail of eager kisses along my shoulder; “We so are,”

#roman godfrey #hemlock grove #roman godfrey x reader #x reader #bill skarsgård #fanfiction #oneshot #fanfic #bill skarsgard #smut #party!au #highschool!au #hemlock grove fanfiction #roman godfrey smut

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peakyswritings · 2 days

Text

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

PART XI

Summary: the situation complicates further as Tommy’s stay in Sicily nears its end. It’s time for conversations, and things that have been buried for too long are brought to the light.

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, slow-burn, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s), time-typical misogyny, references to past attempted assault, harassment, violence, angst, English is not my first language. This chapter is 18+, smut (I’m still not used to writing it but here we go). This is set between season 1 and 2.

Like in some previous chapters, some conversations are supposed to be in Italian but for obvious reasons I kept them in English.

A/N: sorry this is really long. I hope it makes up for the wait!

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dividers credits

Tommy’s proposal to Agnese had brought quite the hustle in the Ferrante’s property. A stream of relatives and friends had been coming to congratulate the new couple in the past few days, and people continuously came and went to make the arrangements for the wedding - or simply pry in the family business. And with the engagement party being held that night, it was impossible for Nina to step out of the house without bumping into some caterer or seamstress or, if she was particularly unlucky, some cantankerous old aunt who would stray away from her as if she were the Devil incarnated.

Her mood, which was already dark to begin with, had considerably worsened, forcing her to withdraw into isolation to avoid all possible conflict. She was easily irritated, she couldn’t stand her mother’s complaints, her father’s deceitfulness, her brothers’ haughtiness, and she couldn’t help herself from talking back or snapping when something bothered her. She could tell they were fed up with her insolence, that she was treading on thin ice, but she drew a twisted satisfaction from getting on their nerves. It was the only way she had to get back at them for the hell they were putting her through. Her role in the family, the impossibility of being something more than she was expected to be, the threat of a forced marriage with Stefano that was becoming less of a prospect and more of a certainty with each day that passed. And now that. Having to watch as the marriage between Tommy and Agnese took form, pretending with her cousin she was genuinely happy for her.

It was tearing her apart from the inside. At this point, Nina couldn’t wait for them to get married, so that Tommy would leave her house, her country, and set her free from the deep ache she felt every time he was near. It would be difficult, at first, but in time she’d forget about him, about the way he made her heart race, about how safe she felt in his arms.

“I’m going over to aunt Rita,” her mother hastily walked into the kitchen, holding a sewing box in her hands. “I’m helping her embroider the bedsheets for the trousseau.”

“Mhm.” Nina merely raised her eyes from the book she was pretending to read. Hearing about bedsheets and trousseaus was the last thing she needed in that moment, especially if it had to become yet another excuse to reproach her for not having the intention to get married anytime soon.

All of a sudden the book was soon snatched from her hands. When she raised her gaze, her mother was looking at her with a stern look on her face.

“Your friend has been invited to the party,” she said bitterly, as though the matter was somehow her daughter’s fault.

Nina’s heart fell to the pit of her stomach. It didn’t take a genius to understand who said friend was.

“The whole Spinietta family has been invited,” Maria went on, slamming the book on the table.

She swallowed harshly, the implications of that gesture rapidly sinking in. “Are you serious?”

“I warned you,” her mother pointed a finger at her. “If you had listened to me, maybe it would’ve been Angelo, not him.”

Nina rolled her eyes. Again with her friend’s son. What did she want, to put a death sentence on the poor man? She grabbed the cup of tea that had grown cold in front of her, and got up to pour its content in the sink.

“Did I tell you he’s a teacher?” Maria started again. “I bet he acts all intellectual just like you.”

“If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll intellectualise away from me. Unless he wants to get on the Spiniettas’ bad side, that is. Or dad’s.” She started to aggressively scrub the cup, taking out her anger on the fragile item. “And who says he’d be interested in me anyway?”

Her mother looked at her as if a second nose had grown on her face. Despite her unusual behaviour, Nina carried herself well, looked nice, had an education that most girls could only dream of. Her Italian was outstandingly clean, almost devoid of dialectal influences, and clear. Her brain worked incessantly, she had complex thoughts, and it was often difficult to keep up with her. Not to mention how she managed to give even men twice her age a hard time with the sole power of her words.

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Maybe he’d find me ugly,” Nina shrugged, “or stupid.”

“You’re my daughter, you can’t be ugly or stupid.”

Nina let out a sigh, drying her hands on a towel. There was no point in arguing. In those situations, it was better to let her mum vent until she got tired of talking with a stone wall and gave up.

Maria dropped the sewing box on the table with a thud. Once she had her daughter’s attention back in her, she started speaking again, a grave expression on her face. “I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in. If your father says yes to Stefano, then he won’t be able to say no anymore,” she said lowly. “You need to act before he says yes.”

“He can’t force me.”

If her father really decided to go through with it, she’d drop the bomb on him that she wasn’t a virgin anymore. Maybe she could do it in front of Stefano, for the pleasure of watching his smug grin disappear from his face. Would she be irremediably deemed as a whore? Yes. Would she bring shame upon her whole family? Absolutely. It would still be better than being Spinietta’s wife.

“You can’t change my mind on this, mum,” she concluded in a tone that didn’t leave any room for discussion.

Her didn’t mother didn’t reply, but the disapproval was clear on her face.

“You know what?” Maria picked up the box from the table again and put it under her arm with a nervous gesture. “I don’t care. Do what you want,” she said sharply, leaving the kitchen.

As soon as she heard the front door closing, Nina exhaled deeply. That was another issue she’d have to deal with, apparently. She wasn’t sure her mother would give up so easily, and she was scared she’d try to act behind her back like her father was.

Her father. Her blood boiled in her veins as her mind went back to the reason why the argument she had just gotten out of had started in the first place. It was time to talk to him, to make it clear that she would never accept to marry that bastard, that she didn’t need time to decide cause she had already made up her mind. The sooner they had that conversation, the sooner all that would end. Hopefully.

Animated by a fiery resolution, Nina strode through the house with large, quick steps. She didn’t pay attention to her brothers, who were heading to the kitchen to have breakfast, nor to Tommy, who was waiting in the large hallway for her father to let him in, and was now looking at her with a puzzled look on his face.

She stormed in her father office, slamming the door behind her. He raised his head from the papers he was signing, looking at her questioningly, but not without a hint of reproach for bursting into his private room without even knocking.

“What does this mean?” Her voice came out more high-pitched than she intended. She stopped in front of the dark wooden desk, forcing him to pay attention to her.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

Her father leaned back in his chair, rolling his cigar between his fingers, keeping his oblivious facade. A new wave of rage ran through Nina, but she was careful to contain it. “You invited the Spinietta family to the engagement party,” she explained through gritted teeth.

Unimpressed by her accusations, he stubbed out his cigar, then folded is hands on his lap. “The Spiniettas are close friends of ours,” he said calmly.

“Right,” she let out a humourless laugh. “You became pretty close over the last month.”

“Business is growing.”

“Ah,” she nodded, raising her eyebrows. “Business.”

Her father clenched his jaw, and from the way his shoulders had stiffened she could tell he knew exactly where the conversation was going. And that he didn’t like her mocking tone.

“Is there a problem, Nina?”

“You tell me. Is there something going on that could be a problem for me?”

She wanted to hear it from him. She wanted him to admit it out loud. She was tired of being treated like she was crazy, like she was imagining things. She wanted honesty.

Vincenzo pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as if hit by a sudden headache. “I need to talk to Mr Shelby, can we-”

“You’re talking to me,” Nina said firmly, raising her voice.

Her father straightened his back, leaning with his elbows on the wooden surface in front of him. He fixed his gaze on her, his features hardening with austerity. “Mind how you speak to me, I’m your father,” he warned her.

“So I should stay quiet while you make decisions about my life,” she spat out. The way he was trying to impose his authority on her just because he had no arguments to defend himself made her stomach churn.

“I’m not making decisions.”

“You are,” she slammed a hand on the the desk. “Do you really think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

Her father reached his hand out, keeping his voice still low. “Calm down.”

“I will not calm down!”

Ferrante took a deep breath, raising from his chair to properly speak to his daughter. If there was one thing he didn’t tolerate, it was disrespect, but getting angry wouldn’t work, not now, at least. It would only make Nina more stubborn. If he wanted her to listen to him, he needed to get his point across nicely.

“What do you want to do with your life?” he asked her, apparently changing the subject.

Nina furrowed her brows, taken aback by his question. She could sense he was trying to direct the conversation somewhere, and she was quick to pull herself together.

“I want to study,” she said steadily.

“You’ve finished school,” he countered.

“There’s university.”

“Women don’t go to university.”

Nina squinted her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Then I want to work.”

“Poor women need to work. Do you want to ruin your hands in a factory?”

A glimpse of irony flashed across his face. Once again, his purpose seemed to be to make her feel stupid, or naive, like she had no idea how the world worked. The thing was, he was right, to some extent. Nina had little experience, she didn’t know everything. But there were things she knew, things she didn’t like, and she wasn’t going to accept them just because that was how life was.

Vincenzo walked around his desk to approach her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, his expression softening. “I’m only worried about you,” he said. “About what your life will be like if you go on like this.”

“It’s my life, dad,” she whispered, feeling the tears well up in her eyes against her will. “Maybe you’re right, and I’m ruining myself with my own hands. But the choice is mine to make.”

Despite everything, she thought she could make him understand. There had to be a way to get through him, to make him see, she didn’t want to ruin the bond they had always had. Because she would make her own decisions either way, and she wished for him to support her. She needed him to support her.

“You’re my daughter. I can’t stand back and watch you do that to yourself,” he shook her slightly. “Let go of these fantasies, Nina. Real life is something else.”

Of course. How stupid of her to imagine that he could even try to understand. She shrugged his hands off, forcing back her tears. “You’re wrong.”

Her father nodded to himself, taking a step back. “We’ll see,” he simply said. “As for Stefano, I told you already. The choice is up to you, I’m not forcing you to do anything,” he reassured her, but his condescending tone had the opposite effect.

“You’re not forcing me to do anything, but that son of a bitch is always around.”

“Language.”

Nina scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. He didn’t see the point. He didn’t want to see the point. He only cared about business, about power. Why was she wasting her time?

She made her way towards the door, but she stopped in her tracks when her hand grabbed the handle. After a moment of hesitation, she spoke again, but she didn’t around to look at him.

“You’re making a mistake.”

Tommy watched as Nina strode out of Ferrante’s study with a face like thunder. He had heard the screams, but he hadn’t been able to make out what the fuss was about, the long sequence of Italian sentences unfamiliar to him.

Those kinds of arguments had happened frequently, over the last three days. Nina had become unmanageable - not that she had ever been the manageable type. But she had gotten worse. If someone so much as glanced at her the wrong way or said one word too many, she’d turn it into an excuse to fight. She was sensitive, and snappish, and she seemed to have lost the ability to put on her mask of coolness and indifference. As a way to heal his wounded ego, which still burned from the things she had said to him, he told himself it was a good thing she had rejected him. If she had the gall to talk back to her father like that, there was no doubt she’d act even worse with her husband, and he had enough headaches already. And for sure, he would’ve never wanted to be at the receiving hand of her temper.

Nina stopped in front of him, recollecting herself, and Tommy couldn’t not notice she radiated the same frigidity as when they had met for the first time. “My father wants to see you, Mr Shelby,” she said coldly.

Ah, now she called him Mr Shelby. As if she hadn’t been whimpering his name in his ear a few nights before.

“I think we’re way past the formalities, sweetheart.”

His remark was enough to make her falter. She blinked up at him, shocked by his bluntness.

“Way past,” he repeated, raising his eyebrows.

“Will you lower your voice?” she hissed, taking a look around to make sure no one was near.

Tommy held back a smirk at her flustered state. Her usual frown had deepened, and a tinge of red had crept up her cheeks. Had the situation between them been different, he would’ve gladly went on. He had to remind himself he wasn’t in the position to tease her anymore. Nina had said it very clearly, she didn’t care about him. What had happened between them had been a mistake, she regretted it. She regretted him.

Then why were her eyes telling a different story?

Nina huffed, tucking a rebel strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s waiting for you,” she murmured.

Her arm brushed against his as she walked past him, sending a spark of electricity through his whole body. Leaving him wondering when he had gotten to the point where the slightest contact threatened to make his self-control crumble.

Nina examined her figure in the mirror, a niggling uneasiness taking over her. She wasn’t used to doll herself up like that. She had put on a beautiful dress for the occasion, done her makeup, managed to tame her long hair, and she had half-hoped she would be happy with the result once she was done. However, in her silk dress, in her makeup, with her hair away from her face, Nina felt like a fraud. Ridiculous, even.

She had always been the ugly duckling of the brood. When her cousins had started to bloom into beautiful women, she was still all elbows and knees, drawing the petty comments of her aunts, poorly hidden behind harmless jokes. She remembered all too well the embarrassment she felt every time they pointed out her flat chest, joking about how if she cut her hair she could be mistaken for a boy. She was ashamed to admit that even though she wasn’t that gawky kid anymore, those words had stuck with her. She tried to convince herself she didn’t care about being pretty, that her mind was her primary concern, but the truth was, sometimes she wanted to feel pretty.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself and just pretend, she told herself, straightening her back. It was a little exercise she had trained herself to do over the years. Head high, impassive face, don’t let them get to you, act like you know exactly what you want, walk like you know exactly where you’re going. It worked, most of the times. Maybe if she pretended long enough one day she’d be able to convince herself as well.

Once ready, she crossed the upstairs floor of the house, reaching the separate corridor in which her parents’ bedroom was located. Her mother was standing in front of a full-length mirror, fixing some pins in her hair. Nina leaned against the doorframe, and allowed herself to stay in her company for a while.

Out of the comfortable clothes she used to wear, out of the kitchen, out of the restraints of her role as a wife and a mother doomed to annihilate herself, she looked years younger. The dress she was wearing was modest, elegant, and the dark blue shade perfectly complimented her complexion. The shadow of a rare genuine smile grew on her face as she put on her pearl earrings, mixed with an emotion Nina couldn’t quite recognise. She could almost swear there were tears in her eyes. Nina realised she didn’t even remember the last time she had seen her mother taking care of her appearance like that, and that finally having the chance to do it must be a source of melancholy as well as joy. Was that what a life dedicated to the care of a whole family had done to her? Had she forgotten herself to that degree?

“What are you looking at?” Maria asked gruffly, glancing at her daughter through the mirror.

How sweet. Nina pursed her lips to hide a sly grin, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Nothing.”

Her mother frowned, smoothing down her dress, then she turned around to face her. She looked at the ground for a moment, then back at Nina, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. “How do I look?”

A pang of sorrow spread in Nina’s chest at the thought that her mother might feel anything else but beautiful. “Stunning, mum,” she said truthfully.

“Is this too much?”

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s perfect.”

The older woman turned to the mirror again, her features softening. “Go downstairs, tell your father I’m almost ready.”

Reluctantly, Nina mustered up the courage to get out of her hiding, mechanical step after mechanical step, like a man facing the gallows. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to feel her relatives’ judgmental stares on her. She didn’t want to see Stefano. She didn’t want to watch Tommy and Agnese be officially presented as a couple. Husband and wife. It made her feel sick. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Tommy standing on top of the staircase, checking the time on his pocket watch, handsome in his formal attire.

His head shot up upon hearing the sound of her footsteps, and for a while it felt like the whole world had stopped turning just for him to have that moment. That moment to look at her, to take in the sight of her in her long, light blue dress that enhanced her tanned skin; with her ebony hair pinned up, exposing her delicate neck and cleavage, instead of hiding her as usual.

“You…” Tommy’s breath hitched in his throat, his mouth dry. You’re beautiful.

He didn’t dare say it.

“Hi,” Nina murmured, fidgeting with her own fingers. She had no idea of what to do or say. Standing there and staring at him like an idiot was clearly not an option, so she decided to approach the stairs. But one look at the long series of steps was enough for her to understand that there was no way she could descend it in her heels without making a fool of herself. Had she been alone, she would’ve gripped the railing like her life depended on it and ungracefully stomped her way down.

As if he had read her mind, Tommy offered her his arm without uttering a single word. He limited himself to peering at her, his gaze indecipherable, intense. Nina accepted his help, trying not to think about how natural it felt to have her hand in the crook of his elbow as they climbed down the stairs. Her legs were shaking, probably not because of the shoes, and she just hoped she wouldn’t trip over her feet and ruinously fall on her face. When she walked down the last step, she realised she had been holding her breath the whole time.

“Thank you,” she whispered, letting go of his arm.

Tommy nodded, taking a step back.

He needed a drink - or possibly two or three - to give him the strength to get through the night. Now more than ever he felt like he was putting handcuffs around his wrists rather than a ring on his finger. He had been telling himself that everything was going reasonably well, that following the plan which had been made over a month before was the best thing to do. He was going to marry the woman they had chosen for him, a beautiful woman, who would make him look good. Agnese was sweet, and gentle. She would take care of the house, of him, give him children. He would have a good life with her. She would bring him peace, turn his house into a safe place away from the wickedness of his business.

Nina would’ve brought him the storm. With her, a life of confrontation, of compromise, maybe even conflict would’ve awaited him. He would’ve had to answer to her, to accept her sharp edges and the sides of her that weren’t easy to deal with.

No, he was lying to himself. Confrontation, compromise, conflict had been his daily bread since he was a kid. His restless nature had never cared for peace. His skin was thick enough not to get cut on her edges. And pain had never scared him anyway. But that didn’t matter. The wedding would be in two weeks, then he would leave that place behind. Leave Nina behind. He’d forget about her like he had forgotten about Grace. He had done it once, he could do it again. Even if he’d prefer to rip his heart out of his chest.

For the engagement party, Agnese’s family had chosen to celebrate in the garden that surrounded the two houses. Everything had been planned with the outmost care: there were tables, flowers, candles, waiters balancing trays of champagne, musicians playing mesmerising tunes. A whole team of chefs had been hired for the delicious dinner. Nina had been pleased to find out that she wouldn’t have to share the table with Stefano, this time, who had sat with his family and other guests far away from her. Nevertheless, she had barely touched her food. Her stomach was still twisted from the events of the day. Now she was standing aside, watching as some couples gathered to dance. Including Tommy and Agnese.

They were both beautiful. Exceptionally so. Agnese was radiant in her ivory dress, she glowed with the happiness of a girl who was about to see all her dreams come true. Tommy held her in his arms with great gentleness as they swayed to the rhythm, and despite the vicious bites of jealousy, Nina was unable to look away. He’d fall in love with Agnese, of that she was sure. Her cousin was stunning, and sweet, and caring, all things Nina was not. Tommy would fall in love with Agnese and realise how blind he had been for ever setting his eyes on someone like her.

A tall figure came to stand by her side, and she was engulfed by the smell of a strong cologne mixed with cigar smoke. The man exuded an aura of power, dominance, along with a calm that was nothing more than a cover for something far more dangerous, unpredictable. Vito Spinietta. Her body tensed, and she instinctively crossed her arms over her chest. Sending him a sideways glance, she was met with his calculating gaze. He was inspecting her, assessing her, searching for any weak point as though he could read into her.

“Good evening,” he said, not taking his eyes off her.

“Good evening.”

A heavy silence followed. Nina wasn’t a fool, she was aware that if Stefano’s brother had taken the trouble to go speak to her it wasn’t to make small talk. The heir to the Spinietta empire was too practical a man to waste his time on pleasantries, and certainly wasn’t there for the pleasure of her company.

“I know there’s no point beating around the bush with you,” he said, confirming her suspicions. “So I’ll be direct. I’m here on behalf of my brother.”

Nina tilted her head in amusement. Had it really become a family matter? Had a no on her part caused such commotion?

“Stefano’s a good guy,” he announced solemnly. “It’s just that sometimes he acts the wrong way.”

Nina had to hold back a dismissive laugh at his statement. A good guy. It was almost as pathetic as the excuse he had made up for his behaviour.

“What am I supposed to do with this information?”

“He cares about you.”

“So you’ve taken it upon yourself to play Cupid,” she said bitterly, with a little edge of sarcasm, earning herself a stern look. “It doesn’t suit you,” she shook her head, mocking him behind an expression that was meant to feign innocent honesty.

Vito raised his chin, reacting with silence to her insolent replies. “It would be good to unite the families, considering the circumstances,” he said instead. “And a rejection could be seen as…” he paused, searching her face. “An offence.”

His words had Nina knitting her eyebrows in a frown. He had pronounced them in an ambiguous, vague way, but she hadn’t missed the gloomy undertone. “Is this a threat?”

“What do you take me for?” he asked, clearly just pretending to be offended. “I’d never threaten a woman.”

He was playing the card of the man of honour. As if he and his brother hadn’t done even worse to the girls of the town. She had to say something now. Too long had she let Stefano scare her, she wouldn’t make the same mistake with Vito. The Spiniettas weren’t the only ones who got power, she came from a tough family as well, and she would no longer forget who she was.

“Listen,” she started, turning to properly look at him. “I’m not scared of you, or your brother, or your threats.”

Vito clenched his jaw, his mouth twisting into a grimace.

Nina took a step towards him, further decreasing the already short distance between them. “You two think you can do as you please because I am a woman?” she narrowed her eyes. “Think again. Cause one word from me and you’ll see your whole organisation fall around your ears.”

“Is this a threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

Nina wanted to see his mask slip. She wanted him to reveal himself, like Stefano had revealed himself not so long ago, when he had put his hands on her in her own house. She wanted him to give her a reason to draw her knife on him, there, in front of everyone. But Vito wasn’t Stefano. It would take a lot more to make him lose his composure.

Vito took a step back, observing her. He could see why his brother was so adamant on having her. Stefano had always loved a good challenge. He didn’t want someone obedient by nature, someone who would listen to his every command. He wanted someone difficult, someone he could take his time to bend. Or break. It would’ve taken way more than a few slaps to break that one.

Their conversation came to an end when Stefano walked up to Nina, holding out his hand to her. “Wanna dance?”

Nina took a look around. Her situation hadn’t gone unnoticed: most of the guests had been peering at her and Vito, trying to figure out what was going on, and now that Stefano had entered the picture, they were sending them subtle glances, waiting to see if Nina would’ve accepted his invitation. Her first instinct was to say no, but leaving him there in front of everyone would cause quite the stir, and surely take the attention away from the new couple. That was Agnese’s night, and she didn’t have the right to ruin it for her. Not after what she had already done. So she placed her hand in his, and unwillingly let him lead her to the dance floor.

His hand was light on her waist as he lead the dance, yet that contact felt heavy, violent. It made her skin crawl. She focused on the ground behind his shoulders, trying to ignore the weight of people’s stares on them. She was afraid to raise her head and find out Tommy was watching too.

It didn’t take her long to detach herself from her surroundings. She didn’t hear the music, she didn’t see the couples dancing around them, she was only uncomfortably aware of Stefano’s proximity, of the heat of his body, of the burning marks his hands seemed to leave into her flesh. He had the predatory eyes of a raptor as he scrutinised the uncovered parts of her body, taking on the appearance of a beast waiting for the right moment to bite.

“I love you, Nina,” he whispered in her ear, his tone pleading. “I want to make you happy. I want to give you everything.”

Nina could read it on his face. He did think he loved her, he was truly convinced that his sick obsession was love. It’s wasn’t merely a matter of wounded ego, he was sincerely hurt in his own, twisted way. And that was something that could potentially make him even more dangerous. A shiver ran down her spine, but she forced herself not to shy away, and she let him speak without interrupting him.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes with you, and I want to fix them. Let me make it right.” His arm tightened around her as he brought her even closer. “I can be good to you.” There was desperation now in his voice. Nina tried to put some distance between them, but he didn’t let her. “I can be good to you, and you can be good to me. I’ll teach you how to be good to me.” His fingers curled around her hand in a painful grip. “Think about what we could be together. Say yes.”

Nina squeezed her eyes, overwhelmed by his insistent touch, his urgent words; disgusted by the image of them living in the same house that had forced itself into her mind; repulsed by his eagerness to mould her.

The music ended, bringing them back to reality. Nina was relieved to be able to pull away from Stefano, whose grip had finally loosened. He was out of his mind if he thought she could ever forget what he had done to her. A wave of rage ran through her, but she was careful not to let it show. Straightening her back, she looked him dead in the eyes, and just one word left her mouth.

“No.”

Stefano’s face fell, disappointment and anger battling in his irises, and his fist clenched by his side. However, Nina didn’t stay there to wait for a reaction. She turned on her heels and walked away from him, from the dance floor, from the crowd of nosy guests. Her inner turmoil grew with every step, and her state of panic was such that she didn’t even realise she had entered her house. With an irritated huff, she hastily fumbled with her impractical shoes and left them at the entrance, then sought refuge in her bedroom.

She took some deep breaths, rubbing her face. It felt like the more she tried to fix things, the more she made them worse, and there was no way out of that endless cycle. What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to act? Who was she supposed to beg to drag her out of that situation? Because it was becoming clearer and clearer that she wouldn’t be able to make it by herself. When had things taken that turn? Had there been a mistake, a single, fateful mistake she had made that had caused all of that? Or was it someone else’s fault? Or was it no one’s fault?

Too many questions, not enough answers. Racking her brains to find a pattern, to put order to the events was useless. They were too tangled, too intricate. It hadn’t started when she had made love with Tommy, nor when he had kissed her, nor when he had appeared in her life. It hadn’t even started when she had pointed a knife at Stefano’s throat, nor when she had let him get close to her all those years ago at school. Had it started, perhaps, when she had insisted on studying? Was it her punishment for wanting more than she could have? More questions, still no answers. The worst thing was, she couldn’t see a way out.

There was a soft knocking on the open door, and when Nina turned around Tommy was there. He looked exhausted, as if the evening had drained him of all his energy. It was unusual to see him like that, he wasn’t the kind of man who let his distress show. For the first time, she realised how much the whole marriage situation had taken a toll on him.

If the reasonable part of her wanted him to leave, the other - the one she seemingly had no control over - needed him close to her. It was absurd how reassuring his presence felt. Maybe that was what had drawn her to him in the first place. When everything around her was swirling, when there was nothing certain or reliable, Tommy was stable, solid. Something to hold on to.

Nina forced those thoughts away. She was losing her mind. Tommy was the least stable thing in her life. He wasn’t there to stay, he would leave in two weeks time and she would never see him again, except for a few occasions, like Christmas or maybe weddings. Indulging in that kind of fantasy would only make things harder.

“Is this your plan?” Tommy suddenly asked, a hint of accusation leaking out of his neutral tone. “Say yes to Spinietta?”

Nina felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over her, and her musings disappeared to give way to pure surprise. “What?” she asked in disbelief, widening her eyes.

“You heard me.”

“That’s ridiculous, I’d never do that.”

“Is that why you were dancing with him?” he raised his eyebrows, pointing at the door with his finger, as if Stefano were outside the room.

Nina shook her head, still not believing they were actually having that conversation. “You shouldn’t mix whiskey with champagne,” she said dryly, her voice coming out harsher than she had intended. But Tommy didn’t seem fazed by it.

“You looked rather intimate,” he noted with a touch of contempt, too upset to realise how preposterous his assumptions sounded.

Nina’s mouth fell agape. She hadn’t missed the inflection in his voice. Was he… jealous? She squinted her eyes, taking a step towards him. “What’s this?” she inquired.

Her question seemed to catch him off guard. He wavered, and an emotion difficult to define flashed across his features. It was more than simply pain. It was like all the resentment Tommy had harboured since that fateful afternoon was flowing out, inexorable, making him unable to think with a clear mind. Biting back was the only way he had to protect the feelings he had foolishly let show. Guilt ate at her stomach at the sight, and she had to remind herself she had done what she had done for him, before anyone else.

As if finally coming back to himself, Tommy clenched his jaw, and took on his usual, impassive expression. “I can’t believe you,” he murmured. “After everything he’s done to you.”

Nina nervously fidgeted with her fingers, not knowing how to make him see that he couldn’t be more wrong. Did he think so little of her? “I’m not..” she trailed off, torn between her sense of guilt and her pride. The latter took the upper hand. She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “You have no right to lecture me.”

“True,” he nodded. “I have no right. Cause what happened between us was a mistake and you don’t care about me.”

That was the point. That had always been the point. Tommy thought she had cruelly played him, maybe even used him, just to discard him when she didn’t want him anymore. She exhaled deeply, not meeting his eyes. “It’s not like that.”

“It’s not like that,” he let out a humourless chuckle. “You said it, you’re taking it back now?”

“Stop it.”

“Eh?” Tommy’s voice raised, overlapping hers. “Are you taking it back?”

“I said stop.”

“You said-”

“I lied!” she snapped.

A tense silence fell in the room. Tommy blinked, and all the bitterness faded from his features. “Wha… what?” he stuttered, a confused frown forming on his face.

Nina didn’t regret her admission. She was so tired of pretending, of lying, of hurting him, and saying it out loud lifted a weight off her shoulders.

“I lied,” she repeated, more softly. “I never meant to hurt you. I…” her voice cracked. “I did it to protect you. To protect both of us.” There was no going back now. Her walls had been breached, and the words she had fought hard to keep to herself were leaving her lips before she had the chance to measure them. “Do you have any idea how much we’re risking? I’m risking? We talked about it, I told you how these things work.”

Tentatively, Tommy broke the distance between them, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up. “Is this what you’re scared of?” he asked incredulous, searching her face frantically, his frown deepening. “I’d never let anything bad happen to you. I’d never let anyone lay a fucking finger on you. You hear me?”

Nina believed him. He would stand between her and harm’s way without a second thought. But that was the problem. She took his hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over it before pulling it away from her face. “And what about you?”

“What?”

“Do you really think you could’ve changed your mind? That they would let you, at that point? You made your decision when you started courting Agnese.”

“Maybe they would’ve understood-”

“No. Her father would’ve wanted your head for humiliating his daughter. The deal would’ve been off and you would’ve been six feet underground in a matter of hours.”

And I’d never be able to forgive myself if something happened to you because of me, she wanted to add.

Tommy didn’t reply, but the pain in his eyes spoke for him. He knew she was right.

Nina gently stroked his cheek. “We never had a chance,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m not worth starting a war over.”

Tommy squeezed his eyelids, shaking his head as if to chase that unbearable thought away. Then, impetuously, he kicked the door shut and crushed his lips against hers. The force of the kiss knocked Nina’s breath out of her lungs, but she was quick to wrap her arms around his neck, pressing their bodies together.

Tommy backed her towards the dresser behind her, then he hoisted her up in his strong arms and sat her on it. A groan left his lips when Nina hooked a leg around him, bringing him even closer. His hands roamed down to her hips, gripping, squeezing, his tongue exploring her sweet mouth. He relished her warmth, her scent, her soft hands caressing his face, trying to imprint every little feeling into his memory. He wanted her, in the most raw, primal way. Because it was the only way he had to have her. Or at least, to delude himself he did. She was like water in his hands, she slipped through his fingers again and again, never letting him hold her, never letting him keep her. But with his fingers digging in her skin, she almost seemed real.

Pulling away to catch his breath, Tommy dropped his forehead into her neck, grabbing her waist. “You’re killing me,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You’re fucking killing me.”

Tears began to stream down Nina’s cheeks. She felt like the worst person alive. She was causing so much pain, to him, to herself. She gently stroked the back of his head, sniffling. “You should go,” she compelled herself to say, although in that moment she wanted nothing more than for him to stay. “They’ll notice your absence.”

“They’re all drunk, they won’t,” he contradicted her.

“Agnese will.”

“She’s with her sisters.”

“But-”

Tommy’s head shot up to look at her, silencing her with his icy glare. “Fuck them,” he husked, wiping away her tears.

Fuck them.

Their mouths collided again. Blood rushed through Nina’s veins as Tommy kissed her hungrily. She could feel him everywhere, she was completely enveloped by him, by his smell of soap, whiskey and cigarettes, by the feeling of his rough hands, and yet she wanted more. She wanted to crumble and be brought into a new existence, to melt in his arms and become one heart, one body, one soul.

They only parted so she could help Tommy get free of his jacket. He was back on her right away, leaving a trail of kisses from her neck down to her chest, his teeth grazing the soft skin from time to time, making goosebumps ripple down her skin. He impatiently lifted her dress, fingers brushing against her smooth legs. More free to move, Nina allowed him more space, and her insides clenched with desire when she felt the bulge in his trousers against her.

Tommy’s hand ghosted over her clothed sex, making her squirm in anticipation. “Tommy,” she moaned, urging him to touch her where she needed the most. Pushing her underwear to the side, he slid two digits into her wet entrance, coaxing a sinful, beautiful sound out of her lips. Nina held onto his shoulders as he started to move his fingers, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Look at me,” Tommy commanded, cupping her chin with his free hand. Her eyelids fluttered open, showing him her glossy eyes filled with pleasure, causing his cock to painfully twitch.

He pumped his fingers in and out of her, working her open, eliciting small gasps from her that threatened to make him lose his mind. His thumb went to stroke her clit, the unexpected motion making her yelp.

Fuck, she was so beautiful.

“Tommy, please…” she whispered, clutching the soft material of his shirt. “I need you.”

She didn’t need to say it twice. Wasting no time, Tommy slid his fingers out of her to get rid of her knickers, discarding them somewhere on the floor, then fumbled with his trousers, finally freeing himself from all restraints. He grabbed Nina’s thighs, pulling her closer to the edge of the dresser so he could position himself between her folds, then he entered her with one swift thrust, burying himself inside of her. Nina hid her face in his shoulder, one hand coming to cup the nape of his neck, the other clutching the fabric of his shirt. Tommy began to rock his hips, firmly yet slowly, giving her the time to adjust to the feeling of him stretching her walls.

Nina clung onto him as if he could shield her from the unknown, as if he were a shelter, a place where she could forget, even for a moment, the uncertain future that awaited her. A future she tried to escape from, but the more she ran, the more she found it on her heels, ready to catch her, to drag her into the darkness that had been threatening her for years.

Tommy’s pace quickened, becoming more desperate, almost brutal, arms wrapped around her waist, bringing every inch of their bodies together. Nina was surprised to find that was exactly what she needed in that moment. It kept her anchored to him and only him.

“You feel so good,” Tommy growled, digging his fingers in her flesh, and her cheeks burned at his words.

He set a merciless rhythm, pounding into her with sharp thrusts. Nina barely recognised the sounds that were coming out of her, but she was too lost in her pleasure to be worried about them. Breath hitched in her throat when he reached a particular spot that made her see stars, and he hit it again and again, drawing shaky whimpers out of her. With each minute that passed she felt closer and closer to her release, and Tommy must’ve been aware of that too. She let out a strangled noise when he brought a finger to her swollen clit, the fire in her abdomen too much to bear.

“C’mon, love,” he rasped. “Cum for me.”

He drew small circles on her sensitive bud, pushing her over the edge. Her walls fluttered around his cock, shockwaves gripping her body as she came undone. Tommy kept on thrusting into her, hips ruthlessly snapping as he chased his climax, until with a last, powerful thrust, he emptied himself inside of her, grunting in her ear.

For a while, neither of them moved. They stayed in each other’s embrace, panting, savouring that ephemeral semblance of peace. Nina nuzzled her cheek against his, the comforting scent of his aftershave filling her nostrils. Neither of them seemed to intend to let go first.

God, she didn’t want to let him go. Before she could control them, tears filled Nina’s eyes again, and she tried her best to prevent them from falling. Why did it have to be so hard? Why did she have to fall for the one man she could never have? Why did her happiness have to cause so much damage? The most irrational part of it was that despite all of that, being in his arms felt like the rightest thing in the world. They perfectly moulded together like they had been created just fit into each other’s arms, to fill each other’s voids. Nothing she had ever felt could compare to it.

Eventually, they moved apart. They fixed their clothes in silence, pulling themselves together as best they could. Not that Nina cared at all. There was no way she was going back to the party. No one would notice anyway.

“Go,” she whispered, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen on his forehead. “They must be looking for you.”

Tommy gently cradled the back of her head, pressing a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll come to you later,” he promised.

Nina nodded, forcing herself to smile. But tears started flowing as soon as she watched him walk out the door.

Heart, Body and Sould tag list

@zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark

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General tag list:

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Tommy Shelby tag list:

@50svibes @bellabarnes1378

#peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fics #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby x oc

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belovedivies · 3 days

Note

Hello👋 I was wondering how would the skinless chicken-I MEAN Nathanael interact with Raphael's older sibling?😅

cw: minor spoiler dividers-credit: @kodaswrld m.list

nathaniel and you…

⋆ ˚｡⋆are the epitome of a match made in hell! We have a body dissection loving maniac who breaks guns with bare hands and a sociopath whose father you buried for the throne that your brother now occupies. Of course, you guys get along like a house on fire.

⋆ ˚｡⋆surprisingly have the time to hang out. You always find a way to forcefully squeeze yourself into his schedule, like dropping by unannounced during his night shifts so you can whip him away for a few minutes! The nurses and patients mistake you two for a couple all the time, something Nathaniel doesn’t bother to clarify anymore.

⋆ ˚｡⋆share what can almost be considered as a bond despite the chaos going on. Aside from Raphael, he’s the one guy whose company you somewhat enjoy and find amusement in. You’re also the only girl who gets to spray deodorant in this scary man’s face and don’t end up being slammed against the wall. It’s a win-win! ☪︎ ･ﾟ･Nathaniel... begrudgingly acknowledges the influence you have on Glory Club. How a fragile-looking woman can command fear and respect without trying. He, though, still has a hard time wrapping his head around the mind-boggling jokes you blurt out sometimes versus the cruelty you’re capable of inflicting. One night, after a quick patient checkup, the Apostle found you in the hallway along with two of his men out cold on the floor, their hands and legs bent at all different angles. Then you just ran up to him with a smile, never elaborating on what happened. ☪︎ ･ﾟ･You... think Nathaniel’s pride now might as well be his downfall. He’s strong, he’s smart, and he has potential. But this is THE Peter we’re talking about. If that boogeyman is lurking around the corner and somehow still as unbeatable as he was 50 years ago, Nathaniel—even in all his evolutionary glory—statistically stands no chance of surviving. And if he is lucky enough to just barely make it out alive, the man’s ego is gonna be damaged for good. ☪︎ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂

“It’s so cold out here…” You tugged your legs underneath your chin and let out a loud yawn, wiggling your feet. “I thought the rainy season ended last week?”

Five centimeters away from you on the bench, Nathaniel leisurely sipped on his Americano. “High humidity levels,” he set the cup aside, “so your clothes might get saturated by the moisture in the air.”

“Huh, guess that’s why I’m still shivering in these 70D stockings—“ mid-sentence, your eyes widened when the guy suddenly took off his blouse and draped it over your lap. “Thanks.”

Nathaniel just shrugged and picked up his drink again. Two nurses walked by and cooed at the scene, though you weren’t sure if the attention was on you or him, or the playing-house act he had been tolerating for a while.

You scanned your surroundings: the hospital’s courtyard was mostly empty at this point. A few elderly patients hung out in the right corner of a dimly lit cafeteria, doing their nighttime stretches. When you look up, a billboard on the side of the building greeted your eyes—a picture of an old-looking Peter with his back hunched. The bounty flashed beneath it in place of the contact number for donation: 7,6 Billion Won.

“Kim Soongu…” The words left your lips as an afterthought, but then you caught Nathaniel’s jaws clenching in your peripheral vision with the coffee cup suddenly crushed to a pulp in his palm, a river of brown dripping to the ground.

The awkward silence didn’t even last for three seconds before a hysterical fit of laughter left your throat as you clung to your stomach.

“Holy fuck—“ snickering, you leaned against Nathaniel’s side like you two were having a sleepover. “Look at the way you got your panties in a twist with just the mention of his name. Is he that good?”

Your slightly-closer-than-an-acquaintance furrowed his eyebrows and answered through gritted teeth. “Brat…”

“Annoying too?” you mirrored his cocked brow with amusement, cheek leaning on his shoulder as you watched the guy slip off his beverage-soaked glove, “didn’t the stats say Soongu is just another D-rank killer though?”

“Not it from my observation.” Nathaniel huffed. “He had some untapped potential. Having him on my team would be… beneficial.”

You tilted your head. “For…?”

“Taking down Peter,” he looked a little irritated at your constant questioning, but ultimately decided not to show that frustration. Instead, Nathaniel’s raspy voice took on what seemed to be a teasing note; his lips curled up into an easy-going smile as the man flicked your forehead.

“So much for your plastic surgery idea, princess.”

“Ow—!” You squealed, touching the violated skin; he wasn’t even using force and you could already feel a bump rising. “What do you mean? So it wasn’t him?”

“It’s real skin from what I felt.” Nathaniel ran a hand over his hair. “Tch, whatever. When he shows up tomorrow, I’ll definitely find out.”

Tomorrow. You tucked your legs further under your chin, eyes still trained on him.

“Hyun Il.”

“?”

The Apostle turned his head towards you.

“You’re 100% likely to die.”

“Doubtful, aren’t we?”

You let out a giggle. “You wanna hear me say it?”

Nathaniel’s gaze hardened. “I will win.”

Cute.

A sigh left your lips as you stared up at the dark sky above. It was a relatively starless night, but there were still some lonely orbs twinkling if you squinted hard enough.

Some saw themselves as the sun—the center of this universe with planets orbiting around them. Constantly striving for a new high. Yet there were bound to be limits. A wall in between. Something, someone who might just show up one day and render all of their efforts useless.

How incompetent we were in the grand scheme of things.

☪︎ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂

"Planning to dig up his body?"

Raphael's comment earns a small smile from you. Taking your little brother's hand, you stand up from where you have been crouching on the ground for the last few minutes.

"Nathaniel doesn't need to be physically here to haunt me," you hum playfully while his fingers brush off the imaginary dust on your hair. "Jokes aside, he's cremated. I'm surprised to find out that could still work without the furnace blowing up; he's like a walking T vessel."

"Mhm…"

"Found anything at the scene?"

At your inquiry, Raphael's brows drawn together in a way that reminds you of Nathaniel. Then again, frustration doesn't have a second face.

"Tch, nothing at all." His grip around your shoulders tighten. "That bastard vanished without a trace."

All the killers dying… so that really was Peter's doings. You've seen the outcome from miles away, yet who is to say the result doesn't baffle you in the slightly? What Glory Club is dealing with here is no longer a human being.

"Hey, Raphael…" for a second, the face of an unfamiliar teenager pops up in your mind—black hair, red eyes that hold an immaculate sense of authority, "do you think that…"

"Yes?" Your brother tilted his head. There's a lump in your throat that is suddenly too hard to swallow.

"Nevermind," as quick as that eerie hypothesis comes to be, you forcefully swat it away; a sharp edge to your smile, "let's get back, shall we? It's gonna start raining soon."

#killer peter #killer peter manhwa #manhwa x reader #reader insert #killer peter x reader #manhwa #x reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #killer peter nathaniel #killer peter nathaniel x reader #webtoon x reader #manhwa fanfic #reader fanfiction #female reader

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hotvintagepoll · 2 days

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John Fiedler (Twelve Angry Men)—You're about to say "what the heck, who is this, I don't know this man." Yes you fucking do. The second he talks, or should I say pathetically mews, you do. That's Piglet. If a man who speaks with the voice of Piglet in fucking "12 Angry Men"—who has to be an angry man with the voice of did i mention PIGLET— isn't pathetic I don't know what to tell you any more

Mantan Moreland (Mr. Washington Goes to Town, Cabin in the Sky)—i love mantan moreland SO. MUCH. and he is the pERFECT scrungly little guy!!!!! like a lot of black actors at the time he was always getting sidelined into small parts, but unusually he also managed to become a star in his own right and was almost one of the three stooges! he was a groundbreaking comedic actor known for his distinctive stare (very good for the horror movies he did), and he always is way more fun to watch on screen than anyone else. he had a famous double-act where he perfected this technique of non-conversations (where both people keep finishing each other's sentences before any actual information is conveyed). a lot of his movies are free on youtube and i really enjoy seeing him do his silly little guy thing in all of them!!! anyways yeah please include mantan he deserves some recognition as peak scrungle

This is round 1 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

John Fiedler:

youtube

Mantan Moreland:

He just had a scrungly look about him and he played big with his roles so any of it became especially scrungly. Plus he was very funny in the way only scrungly people can be.

the FUNNEST GUY TO WATCH ON SCREEN. he was an immensely gifted physical comedian, able to convey loads with his eyes, and while some of his parts are so sad and cringeworthy, I feel like he always brought a humanity and humor that lifted them beyond cheap stereotype.

here's his double act in action!! [editor's note: Benson Fong cameo too!]

youtube

#mantan moreland #john fiedler #hotvintagepoll #scrungly 1

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hannahbarberra162 · 2 days

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Under the Microscope, Part 5 (Yandere Sabo x Reader)

on Ao3

All the other chapters

You meet Ace over dinner. Sabo makes a snail call.

You didn’t react when Sabo mentioned Ace’s name, just continued trudging behind him. Interesting, even before his execution, Ace's name brought a certain amount of curiosity and notoriety. You were trying to take in information about the island as you walked along the path to the house. There was no point, it was a small uncharted island in the middle of nowhere, no one could find it without a permanent log pose. It was an autumn island but was currently in its spring season. Sabo liked the island a lot and had been enjoying the little time he was able to spend on it. If Sabo hadn’t had to leave all the time for missions, he would have loved to spend his time on the island. It had a natural waterfall and small freshwater lagoon, some wildlife, and a lot of shady trees and vegetation. You were looking at some of the wildflowers that had grown along the side of the beaten path to the house. You raised your hands as if to magnify a purple flower but stopped yourself, finally noticing that Sabo was watching you.

"It's a little chilly out, would you like my jacket?" Sabo suggested. You shook your head to decline his offer.

“What were you doing about a year and a half ago?” Sabo asked you. You scrunched your little nose in thought, eyebrows drawn.

“Working,” you replied quietly, not giving any further detail. Ah, you were wary of him now that you felt better and were on land. It was a reasonable reaction to have, Sabo didn’t mind. You didn’t see the bigger picture, didn't understand the plans Sabo had for you. Anyone would be upset by a drastic change, especially one they didn’t plan themselves.

The island was a perfect place for you to stay for the time being. You would be safe, unable to be tracked by the Marines. Sabo knew they would try to find you, bring you back to their base, and he couldn’t let that happen. As a bonus, there was no one else to talk to on the island besides him and his brother. You would get over your fear and nervousness of him if you had no one else to interact with. If he’d taken you back to the RA headquarters, he knew you’d be a companion to Koala, make friends with Betty and Lindbergh, and he just knew Iva would love you. So for now you needed to stay isolated with them on the island. They’d all get to know you in a few months when Sabo brought you to Momoiro. He knew you were lonely, you’d gravitate to him and Ace sooner or later. Sabo knew Ace would like you, he just had to get over some of his…issues. Sabo planned to keep you here until you’d accepted your situation - and him.

“Are you familiar with Marineford?” Sabo asked.

“Um, the new one or the old one? I know the old one was destroyed and Whitebeard and Gol D. Roger’s son were killed there but I never caught up completely on the news.” You started wringing your hands, Sabo noticed, as if you were worried about being caught. “I was supposed to but I had a lot to do and I was busy -”

“Researching,” Sabo said, finishing your sentence for you. Your face soured, but Sabo wasn’t making fun of you, you were as dedicated to your field as he was to his own. Making your way to the little house Sabo shared with Ace, he held open the unlocked door for you. It was dark inside, all the curtains drawn, the air musty and stale. Ah, Ace must be stewing again. At least it was warm inside, you were only wearing Sabo’s old tunic.

“Ace, c’mere, there’s someone I want you to meet,” he called out into the darkness. Sabo moved towards the curtains and you moved along with him. You looked like you were scared that someone was going to pop out of the shadows. Sabo slowed down so you’d bump into him while you looked around. It was foolish, but he relished any contact he could have with you. “Aaaaaaace,” Sabo called out in a sing-song voice, “where aaaaaaare youuuuu?” Sabo opened one of the curtains, sunlight now pouring into the room. You yelped as you saw Ace, slouching on the couch, arms folded and frowning, staring silently at you. You bumped back into Sabo again, this time he reached out and held your upper arm for ‘support.’

“Ace, stop moping for a few minutes. We have a guest.” Sabo stood behind you, almost presenting you to his brother. Ace glared at you, still silent. “Oh, don’t be mad. It’s time you saw someone other than me,” Sabo said, rolling his eyes. Ace leaned forward, stood up, and left the house, slamming the door behind him, making you jump again. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back when he gets hungry,” Sabo said, patting your shoulder.

Your POV

You weren’t worried whether Sabo’s brother would be back or not. He scared the shit out of you, sitting there in the darkness, staring at you. He didn’t bear a lot of physical resemblance to Sabo, but the staring reminded you of Sabo. Ace had long, wavy black hair, reaching past his shoulder blades. It looked unkempt, like he hadn’t brushed it in a long time. He was wearing a Wano style yukata, with no shirt underneath. He had a lot of bandages over his chest, nearly the entire area was covered.

“Ace has been having a…rough time,” Sabo hedged. “But he’s actually really nice. You’ll like him, he’s like me in a lot of ways.” You weren’t sure you liked Sabo , much less Ace, but you didn’t voice that thought out loud. You appreciated Sabo’s kindness when you were ill, but you’d been fine without his help, and you definitely didn’t want to be kidnapped. If your meeting with Sakazuki had gone well, you were expecting a promotion and transfer to another base. But now you weren’t sure you’d ever see anyone besides Sabo and his brother ever again.

Sabo opened more of the curtains and windows, letting in the fresh air. “Much better,” he said to himself. Turning to you, he clapped his hands together with a smile. “Let’s give you a tour of the house, yes?” Sabo led you through the house, starting with the living room. The living room, kitchen, Sabo’s office and a bathroom were all on the first floor while closets, another bathroom, and the two bedrooms were on the second. It was clear people were living there, but there was something missing. The house wasn’t decorated at all, no photos, no art, nothing to make it a home. It felt like a hospital room, it had the basic necessities but nothing personal.

“You’re welcome in any unlocked room of the house, you live here now. That room,” he said, pointing to a closed door, “is Ace’s.” It looked like the door had been kicked and stabbed a few times. “This one,” Sabo gestured to another door on the right, “is ours.”

“W-what do you mean ours ?” you stammered, suddenly uncomfortable. You knew you were wearing Sabo’s clothes on Sabo’s island, but you hadn’t thought he would be so…forward. You were abruptly reminded of the differences in your heights, weights, and fighting abilities. You took a step back, but Sabo took one forward, keeping you near him.

“Our room,” Sabo said slowly, as if you were confused about the meaning of his words. “We were already sharing a room on the ship and I thought it worked out well. Besides, there aren’t any more rooms or any other houses on the island. I’m not saying we have to share the same bed, ” Sabo said, rolling his eyes. You hadn’t given much thought to where Sabo had been sleeping on the ship, but you supposed you’d been sharing a room in some way.

“Oh, um, ok. I can, um, sleep on the floor. I don’t mind,” you offered. Sabo balked at your statement.

“We’ll figure it out later,” he said dismissively. Something told you that you wouldn’t be sleeping on the floor. “Now, let’s get some food going. I’m worried about you after that trip. We need to get you healthier, starting with proper nutrition.” Sabo was so serious at that moment, like he was considering all the ways he could help you feel better. He did also cause some of your problems, but you didn’t think he wanted to hear that.

Sabo brought you to the small kitchen and guided you to the chairs. The kitchen had bar style seating overlooking the main cooking area, complete with barstools. Sabo opened cabinets and drawers, taking stock of the food that was left. Earlier, when Sabo took off your blindfold, you saw that there were crates being unloaded as well, so you knew there would be more food. You hoped Sabo was a good cook, it wasn’t really your forte. You could make a few dishes very well, but were content to eat whatever the mess hall cooked. You found cooking boring and didn’t like spending your time on it. Sabo had his back turned to you, filling a pitcher of water from a barrel. He set it in front of you, along with a cup.

“Here, sit and drink some water. I’ll cook.” You sat at his command, watching him in silence. Sabo started removing some of his layers in preparation for cooking, putting his jacket on the back of the chair next to you. He didn’t take off his gloves, though, even after rolling up his sleeves to cook. Sabo took off his top hat, looking for a place to put it. He reached over, and put it on your head with an unblinking stare and a smile. You paused mid-sip, unsure what to do. You felt like a wild animal that had been sighted by a hunter. You reached up and took the hat off your head, placing it on the counter next to you. Sabo gave a nervous laugh.

“Sorry, I was just trying to be silly. Looks good on you, though.” Sabo brushed off the strange interaction and started pulling out ingredients from the cabinets. He was talking to you, almost monologuing, as you sipped your water and listened, hands shaking slightly. You were feeling unprotected and exposed, fully at the mercy of the Chief of Staff of the Revolutionary Army. Sabo didn’t notice, and kept up the one sided conversation while preparing what looked like stew. As he prepared the food, your mouth watered. Sabo may have kidnapped you and brought you to a secluded island, but he could make a delicious smelling stew.

“-found this island by accident, and I ended up living here over the past year. It’s quaint and out of the way, which I like. I actually prefer spring islands, but this one is nice too. Ace has also been here for about a year, recovering. We’re not actually -”

The door banged open, making you startle again. You were getting tired of Ace scaring you, it made you even more anxious than you already were. You had to put down the cup you’d been holding your hands were so unsteady. Ace stalked over to the counter, sitting at the next bar stool. He moved Sabo’s hat from in front of his seat to the couch rather delicately, you noticed. He frowned at you but didn’t say anything.

“Welcome back, Ace. Want some food?” Sabo ladeled some incredible smelling stew over rice, handing the bowl to Ace. Ace grunted, and started shoveling it in with a spoon. Literally shoveling. “We’ll do introductions after you’ve eaten,” Sabo declared. Ace barely looked up from his food. Sabo handed another bowl to you.

“For you, Mag - er - what should I call you now? I know you asked me not to call you by that atrocious nickname anymore.” You took the bowl and set it down, thinking. You didn’t want him to know your real name, to know even more information about you than he already did.

“Um, I’m not -”

Sabo cut you off, smiling. “How about Sunshine?” Sabo was clearly excited about this idea, but you couldn’t understand the nickname. Was he making fun of you?

“Sunshine? Why Sunshine?” You gave him a distrustful look.

“Because you make my day brighter!” Sabo said with a grin. That earned another grunt from Ace, who looked like he was about to pass out face down. Even though you were at his mercy, you didn’t like Sabo mocking you.

“I don’t think so, I don’t - I don’t do that. That’s not me.” You looked down at your stew, not wanting to meet his gaze. You felt a leather glove underneath your chin, pulling your head up to look at Sabo, who had a fond look on his face.

“It’s true. You are my sunshine. You’ll believe me eventually.” Sabo rubbed his thumb over your cheek, then let go. You felt confused. You liked Sabo - well, had liked Sabo - but this was too much for you. You were his only romantic choice on the island, that was probably why he was doing weird things. You ignored it for now.

“Now then, Ace, this is Sunny. Sunny, this is Ace,” Sabo said, taking the seat on your other side. You were in between the two brothers and it was uncomfortably silent.

“Ace, say hello. Don’t be rude,” Sabo said in a clipped tone. You could tell Sabo was getting annoyed, and that made you worried. You’d never seen Sabo mad before, but you could tell it wasn’t something you wanted to see. Ace still didn’t say anything, steadfastly staring at his bowl as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Pardon us for a moment,” Sabo said to you, smiling. With that, he walked around you and grabbed Ace by the ear. Sabo yanked him backwards off the stool, causing Ace to yelp and stumble. Sabo didn’t let go and dragged a floundering Ace out the door, slamming it behind them. You heard a muffled Sabo talking to his brother, mentioning something about manners and hospitality. You finally heard Ace’s voice as he shouted back at his brother.

“FINE!” Ace yelled at Sabo, opening the door again. He gave you a once over, like he was finally seeing you.

“I’m Ace. Nice to meet you,” he grumbled, inclining his head slightly. He sat back down next to you and picked his spoon back up.

“I’m, uh, Sunny, I guess?” You’d go with Sabo’s cringey suggestion for now. You didn’t think he knew your identity and you weren’t going to provide it.

“Great! Now we all know each other. I met Sunny at Bayonette -”

“You kidnapped me from Bayonette,” you interjected quietly. You weren’t going to let him forget that you weren’t here voluntarily.

“You a Marine?” Ace asked, still watching his food.

“Yes,” you replied.

“No,” Sabo replied at the same time. “She was a Marine, but no longer.” You looked at Sabo curiously. Sometimes the way he spoke reminded you of nobles you’d met a few times. But you didn’t know any nobles who joined the Revolutionary Army. It was probably just a quirk, like his suits and top hat. Ace finished his stew and got off his chair.

“See ya around,” he said, going to his room and shutting the door behind him.

Sabo POV

Ace was being annoying but the introduction had actually gone better than Sabo had expected. Ace hadn’t seen anyone besides Sabo since they’d come to live on the island together over a year ago. It was time for Ace to start reacclimating to society, starting with meeting new people. When he met you, he knew you’d be a good person for Ace to befriend. You were smart but oblivious, kind but reserved, intelligent but humble, similar qualities to those Ace had. Since Marineford, Ace’s self confidence and self worth issues had increased exponentially. Sabo tried talking to him about it but he could tell that Ace wasn’t taking to heart what Sabo said. Maybe if he heard it from someone else he would actually listen.

You were still eating, but Sabo unfortunately had work to do before the end of the day. All part of being second in command of an army, he supposed.

“Stay here and finish your food,” Sabo declared, pouring you another cup of water. “I have to make a call in my office, it shouldn’t take too long. When you’re done eating, feel free to explore the house or the island. If you’re cold, there’s more clothes in our room. Wear anything you want.” Sabo said, putting a hand on your back. You looked up at him like a little lamb, large eyes so innocent and lost. He wanted to wrap you up in his arms and kiss you, but he knew it wasn’t the time. He had nearly lost his self control when he saw you in his hat, picturing you riding his cock wearing it and nothing else. He’d get some physical contact with you again tonight, after you slept. You’d be sharing a bed, whether you knew it or not.

Sabo left you and walked briskly to his office, needing to call Dragon. He’d delayed calling for a while, wanting to get his thoughts in order before calling his boss. Sabo didn’t like doing anything impulsively, he preferred to plan meticulously and strategically. He needed to ensure Dragon saw the benefit of having you as an RA asset, rather than some woman he grabbed for comfort. He woke the white den den mushi and started placing his call.

Puru puru puru puru puru puru…

Dragon picked up on the second ring.

“It’s Sabo. Mission ‘Bastille’ completed, with a deviation in plans.” He knew Koala would have informed Dragon already but he wanted the boss to hear it from him as well.

“Welcome back. Go on.”

“No further research will be completed on the project, permanently. I was not able to destroy the base as desired but will return at a later date to do so.”

“Why? You were there long enough.”

“A complication arose. I captured the lead scientist, she was working alone. She remains with me at the current time. She could be a critical asset for the RA.” Sabo didn’t actually care if Dragon approved or not, but his life would be easier if he did. Dragon didn’t answer so Sabo continued.

“I believe her to be the scientist behind Project Angel. Her area of expertise and writing style suggest it. She could continue innovation on the project, perhaps to completion.” Sabo let it drop, he knew Dragon well enough to know he was thinking over the proposition. The line went silent for 30 seconds.

“Gain her confidence, have her work on furthering the project. She may remain in your custody as long as you believe her research to be credible. A ship will be sent to your location.” Sabo smiled to himself. Dragon was hooked, as Sabo knew he’d be. He knew dropping his thoughts about your involvement with Project Angel was enough to show your usefulness. Sabo wasn’t going to let anything happen to you, no matter what the outcome of the conversation was, but he wanted to provide you with purpose. You could serve the Revolutionary Army, at least from afar. Sabo wasn’t surprised Dragon ordered him to the base, but also wasn’t happy about it. He would have to leave you on the island with Ace for a few weeks. But, it would give the two of you time to bond and enjoy each other’s company. Ace, despite his vocal objections, craved human comfort and contact, which you would provide to him.

Sabo’s heart felt lighter, despite the news of upcoming travel, as he hung up the snail. He wrote a few notes on some reports, read through a note or two and then decided to leave for the night. He left the office door ajar purposefully. He knew you were hiding in the bathroom and listening in, but he wanted to see what you would do. He went from the office to your shared room to freshen up the linens and prepare the room for the night. And to watch you, of course.

Your POV

After your dinner, you’d gone to the restroom near Sabo’s office. You hadn’t been planning on snooping ( again…) but while coming out, you heard yourself being mentioned in conversation. You would need to gather all the information you could if you wanted to escape the island. You heard the tail end of Sabo’s conversation with…Dragon? Obviously, if Sabo was second in command, the only person who could give him orders was the Supreme Commander, Dragon. You were just surprised to hear the deep voice coming out of the snail, you couldn’t imagine any other Marine had heard it and lived.

Sabo said you had been involved in ‘Project Angel,’ but you weren’t sure what that was. You’d never worked on anything with that name, but maybe the RA gave their own code names to Marine projects. You weren’t generally working on complete projects, just given assignments that didn’t always link together. How did they know about your work anyway? How did Sabo know your writing style? None of it was published, it was all classified information that only top Marines had access to.

Your stomach soured as you heard Dragon confirm the conclusion you’d already drawn yourself. Sabo wanted you to work for them, maybe on the assignment you had been assigned when Sabo kidnapped you. Dragon had given him direct orders to get you to complete work for them by gaining your confidence. No wonder Sabo had started touching you and put his hat on your head. He was trying to endear himself to you by any means necessary. You distantly wondered if any of it was real or if it was all engineered to make you fall for him. Anything for the cause, you supposed. You felt dejected, cast aside yet again.

During your stay on the ship, you’d gotten too comfortable with Sabo, relying on him time and time again. Well, no longer. You were determined to get off the island, get back to the Marines and never see Sabo ever again. Besides, you had started worrying about your family again. They might have heard news that you were kidnapped, which would devastate them. Even more than that, you were anxious about what would happen to them now that your paychecks wouldn’t be coming in. You hadn’t worked for the Marines long enough to have a pension, only a small payout if you died in the call of duty. But since you weren’t confirmed dead, your family wouldn’t be eligible. You chewed on your cuticle as you thought of your sister with EDS, your overworked mother, and your younger siblings. You would either have to escape soon or come up with another way to get money to them.

You heard Sabo leave the office, the door left open. He did say you could go into any unlocked room in the house. If he didn’t want you going to his office, he would have told you it was off limits or locked it. Peeking out of the door, you made sure Sabo wasn’t there. You darted from the bathroom to the office as quickly as you could. The office was the same as it was when he gave you the house tour in the afternoon. It was small but cozy, with an overstuffed loveseat against one wall, and a large desk that took up most of the space in the room. On the desk were many papers in different piles, sorted by category. There were piles of books and articles about Devil Fruits, some old newspaper clippings, and letters and reports related to the RA. In the corner of the desk was an old photo of him and Ace as kids, with another young boy. That must be the third brother Sabo mentioned once. They looked happy, all their faces squished together smiling. Sabo was wearing a smaller version of the same hat, and he and Ace had lead pipes. It made you think about your own siblings. You chewed on your nail as your hand shook.

On the opposing corner was the snail that Sabo had used to call Dragon. It looked different than snails you’d seen before. You’d never been given your own Marine snail, you just used the office one when you needed to make any calls. Creeping over to the sleeping snail, you put your shaking hand out to wake it up. Maybe you could call your base and tell them that you were alive? Let them know where you were? You were nervous, scared that Sabo would find you and punish you for trying to call for help.

Putting your shaking hand on the snail’s shell, it woke up and waited for you to make a call. You wavered back and forth, unsure what to do. Ultimately, you pulled your hand back, the snail returning to slumber. You didn’t want to waste a good opportunity when you didn’t have information. You didn’t know where you were or any coordinates that could help them find you. The call could be traced but only if you were able to stay on the line for 3 minutes or longer, which you didn’t think you could do without Sabo finding out. No, you’d wait to make a call when you thought it more advantageous. Maybe Ace could be tricked into giving you more information.

Sabo POV

Sabo was proud of you. He knew it wasn’t fair to test you, he knew you were still unsure of what his intentions were. After overhearing his phone call with Dragon, surely you understood that Sabo respected you for your abilities, not just your looks. He watched you extend a shaking hand to the snail, even going so far as to wake it up. You didn’t know, but the snail would only call Dragon, it was a white den den mushi. Chewing your lip, you were at a crossroads but decided not to call. Sabo was happy to see that your trust in him was growing, that you didn’t immediately reach out for rescue. You were starting to accept your place with him and on the island. Maybe you thought to find out more information first, he mused, but Sabo wasn’t foolish. He would only leave the snail out this once, taking it with him when he had to leave. Ace had his own that could call Sabo, you’d be fine.

“Find anything interesting?” Sabo asked, making you squeak. He was leaning against the door jamb, watching you look at his desk. He felt bad for scaring you, but it was hard not to when everything made you jump.

“Oh, uh, n-no, nothing. Just, um, looking. I-it’s ok, right? You said I could?” If Sabo’s soldiers acted like you did when caught, he would send them all back to basic training. But in you it was endearing.

“Of course you can look. Anything that is accessible is available to you. It’s your house too,” Sabo said, smiling kindly at you. You were still nibbling on your lip, making Sabo want to do the same. “You look tired, would you like to go to sleep?”

You nodded, looking up at him through your lashes. Sabo knew you’d be tired since you drank 5 cups of the drugged water. He should tell Ace not to drink it, he thought, otherwise the lug would sleep even more than he already did. But that was tomorrow’s problem.

“Come, I’ll show you the bedroom.” Sabo crossed the room and took you by the crook of your elbow before you could protest. Yes, it was 15 feet away, but Sabo wanted to touch you as much as he could. He guided you out of the office to your room. You poked your head in.

“There’s - there’s only one bed,” you sputtered. Sabo smiled, tightening his grip on your arm.

________________________

@nymeriiiia

#sabo x you #sabo x reader #x reader #reader insert #under the microscope au #op x y/n #ace lives au #yandere #yandere sabo

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velvetlilith777 · 2 days

Text

It's Too Late To Turn Back Now...

Sebastian x Reader

Author's Note: It's finally finished! Once I had the idea for this I couldn't get it out of my head and had to give it to you guys, too. This is my first attempt at writing anything at all since high school, but the plot is cute I think? If you have feedback please be gentle lmao <3

Also, so sorry the reader is fem identifying in this! I'm hoping to write more gender neutral fics in the future once I feel more confident in my writing.

Synopsis: Sebastian had been your best friend for a couple of years now, but that's all it was. But if that were true, why did everyone else get a different impression?

Inspired by this post by @creativepromptsforwriting! 🖤

Divider by @bunnysrph! 🖤

CW: fem identifying reader (nothing super descriptive but she/her pronouns used), swearing, the concept of sex is mentioned exactly once passively, one instance of name calling, terrible grammar and sentence structure

Word Count: 10.6k

The autumn air was crisp and light as it breezed through your sweater. Making your way through a crowded main street in the heart of Zuzu city proved to be difficult even by yourself, but today you had others to keep safe and sound.

This was the first trip you'd been able to take to the city in what felt like forever. Having been way too busy with your farm and the order load from Lewis' needs for the valley's various festivals to even dream of making the trek back to the bustling streets you once called home. It was hard enough to carve out time to hear the new songs your best friends had finished for their newly successful band, or make it to the weekly game nights you had become so fond of. Your absence had left a noticeable empty feeling in your group, but your friends understood. Often grateful for the times you did make it to the usual hang out spots or managed to say a quick hi to them while you were out running off to your next obligation. But with the Stardew Valley Fair behind you, your busy season was rapidly winding down as the bitter months approached. There was only a handful of crops left working towards harvest, and your animals had been staying outside as much as possible since these would be the last days before they were shut in from the cold until spring came back around. All of this meant your morning chores were finally able to be completed well before the bus out of town opened for the day, allowing a much needed trip with your friends to the city to become a reality.

Though, it wasn't long into the bus ride before you remembered that hanging with your besties wasn't always a picture of stress relief.

When boarding the bus, you followed the trio to the back where you usually sat to be as secluded as possible. You had a decent relationship with Pam, but she was known to let things slip at the saloon if Gus failed to cut her off soon enough. The last thing anyone needed was Robin or Lewis knowing some of the things you had discussed.

There were barely enough people in the entirety of Pelican Town to fill the bus up, so on these trips each of you got a row to yourselves. You took your usual positions, Sam and Abby sat on the left side while you and Sebastian sat on the right. Within minutes of the bus moving, you realized there was a riff Sebastian had forgotten to tell you about. What you had missed was that Sam had slipped and spoiled the ending of the game Abby had been grinding out for months the night prior. Abby - who was justifiably upset - got immediate revenge by telling him the entire plot of the current season of the show you'd all been watching together. Sam had a tendency to fall asleep 15 minutes in and had yet to catch up, so you and Sebastian had been working overtime to not discuss anything he didn't know yet. So much for that.

As the jabs began to get more serious, you turned around to Sebastian with a puzzled look on your face. Seb shot back a look that said "shit, sorry! I forgot." He then began filling you in over text. He recapped and told you that even though they were even in terms of initial offense, they hadn't stopped there and had been bickering ever since. Dramatically, you rolled your eyes rolled into the back of your head, which caused him to let out a small chuckle. This wasn't the first or even hundredth time the two of you had been on the outside of their arguments, and neither one of them liked to stop until they'd had the last word.

Though the fights weren't missed, you missed your friends. It was just nice to be around them again even as your annoyance grew. There was no way you and Sebastian would be able to hear each other over the existing volume of shouting and the old bus engine, so you opted to talk over text while sending each other silent looks reacting to what you had just sent or read.

Out of the group, you two had the hardest time physically seeing each other, but that didn't mean you weren't constantly talking. You saw Abby the most, seeing how often you were at Pierre's for seeds (or emergency fertilizer for the flowers you were sure you had 3 more days to plant) throughout the busy season. Sam also was pretty easy to make quick small talk with, bumping into him practicing kick flips or playing with Vincent while you hurried into Cindersap Forest to harvest the wood you always seemed to be out of. While you were in the mountains pretty frequently on a mission in the mines, Sebastian was a programmer with deadlines just as strict as yours. Often locked in his basement typing away in a language that looked so foreign to you. Sometimes you'd get lucky and see him on a smoke break, which both of you enjoyed, but usually you tried to let him stay focused and caught up with him throughout the day over text. Sending memes or venting about anything and everything whenever one of you managed a spare moment was the norm. He was just someone you could have a consistent and casual stream of dialogue with.

The topics of conversation were small. Seb asking you about your animals, in particular how your void chickens affectionately named Hecate and Malice were doing. He had instantly loved them since their eggs mysteriously showed up at your farm one day. You noticed that he had changed his normal nose ring out for a black stud that glistened a little every time the light caught it. He said he'd been meaning to do it for a while and appreciated that you liked it. Small, comfortable conversation.

That's how it always was with you and Sebastian. Comfortable. It didn't matter how long you went without talking or what you were doing, there was a level of comfort that came with him that you had never felt with anyone else. That's not to say that you felt uneasy with the rest of your friends in Pelican Town. You knew and loved all of your neighbors - well, maybe not always Lewis, but you got along - and Yoba knows you were down to do anything and everything with Abigail and Sam. But something about the way you relaxed whenever Seb was around was different. And if you didn't know any better, you'd say he felt similarly by the way his shoulders visibly loosened when you made your way into the saloon on busy Friday nights.

The ride to Zuzu city wasn't terribly long, but it was long enough for the incessant squabbling from two of your friends to give you a headache. While Sam and Abby's fights were never actually harmful or that serious, they had a tendency to act like siblings and continually yap nonsense at each other. At some point during the ride the arguing had escalated to Sam having his ear yanked by Abby, which lead you to where you were now. Strolling through the bustling crowds of the city, arm linked with Abby's to keep her heading in the right direction. Sebastian had the same job with Sam hooked to his arm. They were still too focused on one upping the other person to safely keep up with you and avoid getting lost. You and Sebastian also served as a buffer between them which had done very little to get them to stop, but at least poor Sam's ear was safe.

After many crosswalks and a few honks from impatient taxi drivers, you could finally see your main destination in the distance. You and the much taller emo shared a sigh of relief and a slight smile over getting everyone there without too much trouble.

The plan was to visit all of your favorite store in the valley, Electric Park Comics and get dinner afterwards. The store was more of a hobby store in its current era than just a place to grab comics, making it a hit amongst your group. There was something for everyone, the comics in the front being what initially drew Sebastian into the shop on one of his late night rides a few summers ago. He'd also grown fond of the back left corner where they kept old copies of games from consoles past, even occasionally getting in a good condition console for resale from someone who was clearing out an attic. He didn't even realize that section was there until the first time he brought Sam, who found it instantly. The pair had made it a monthly occurrence to make the trip to see what new releases the store had in, until one night they decided to swing by with you and Abby after a successful bar show for Goblin Destroyer. They didn't even have a chance to tell you both that you could head to a store nearby instead of having to wait on them before you were squealing over a Sanrio display they'd never taken note of. The boys had also lost the pair of you after browsing because you'd managed to find a staircase leading to the second floor which housed an in depth occult assortment. After that night, it became a group routine to escape the stress and expectations that weigh on each of you in Pelican Town by heading to that hidden downtown shop and nerding out together.

Approaching the building, you shook Abby's arm and pointed excitedly. The front was decorated carefully with jack-o-lanterns and plastic skeleton statues. Paper cats arching their backs and glittery orange and black garland lined the display windows inside. The festive exhibit and your excitement were enough to get Abby's attention away from Sam's quips. The two of you started excitedly muttering and gasping over how excited you were for the upcoming holiday, and how thoughtful the owner's work was. Sebastian let out an affectionate laugh at the commotion you two were causing. He remembered when you first moved into the farmhouse that autumn was something you and Abby hit it off over immediately. It's was both of your favorite season and you were frequently giddy over anything to do with Spirit's Eve.

Sam was looking away, irritated that Abby didn't care to respond to his last cleverly delivered jab when Sebastian nudged him.

"Hey, what was that for?" Sam muttered under his breath.

"Dude, I know you're upset. But could you maybe just drop this stupid argument for now?" Sebastian said in a hushed tone, holding the blonde back a couple of paces from you. "We haven't been here since the Flower Dance as a group. I'd like to have a good time instead of you guys bitching about something that doesn't matter anymore."

Sam looked around the street and then over as you and the friend he was just insulting minutes earlier. You were still too busy discussing costume ideas and who would get scared in the maze to notice any of this happening. He sighed, realizing how hard it had been to actually get together over the summer despite having made so many plans. How excited each of you were that this had really made it out of the group chat. A slight twinge of embarrassment washed over him.

"Yeah, I guess you're right dude. Abby and I can't take back ruining things for each other but I guess we shouldn't ruin this too." Sam pinched the bridge of his nose realizing he'd also given himself a slight headache the last couple of hours. "I'm sorry."

"It's all good. This is just as much on Abby as it is you. She's just successfully distracted right now" Sebastian laughed.

The boys looked over at the two of you scheming ways to get Marnie to let Jas go in the maze with you this year and shook their heads knowingly at each other.

"Let's go in before they figure out a way to actually make that happen and I have to hear Vince cry about it" Sam chuckled.

He swung the door open. The little bell snapped you and Abby out of your festive ramble and both of the boys faked a gentlemanly usher for you two to go in first.

You walked into the shop and waived hi to the owner Henry as you shook off the chill from the outside.

"Long time since I've seen you miss" Henry smiled at you.

You let out a tired laugh. "Yeah, the farm has kept me plenty busy this year. Knowing the ropes made me too confident and I narrowly avoided biting off more than I could chew."

"Well you made it through. Sounds like you have a reason to celebrate." He let out a hearty chuckle. It was warm and reminded you of your grandpa's years ago.

"I sure do!" you beamed back at him.

You made your way over to the Sanrio section to debate which plushy of your favorite character you wanted to add you your collection this time. Sebastian came over to join you briefly before heading over to the comic aisles that would have his attention for the better part of the next hour.

"Hey, they've got new stickers this time." He motioned to a colorful assortment of little animals is various poses. "We should get matching ones for our helmets."

As you began walking over to look over the selection, the smile on your face turned into a frown. You realized in the whirlwind of the summer you'd forgotten all about the helmet that Sebastian had ordered you for when you accompanied him on his bike. His spare was cheap and clunky, he wanted you to have one a little nicer on the nights you were his backpack.

"Seb, shit I'm so sorry. I forgot you'd done that. I've been meaning to ride with you I promise it's just-"

He cut off your panic with a smile and a finger to your lips. "It's okay, it's not like it was running for a month anyways" he snorted at his own misfortune. "What do you think about these?"

He held up a pair of stickers, one being your favorite sanrio character and his being Badtz-Maru giving off some serious side eye.

"Those are perfect" you giggled at his choice, knowing how often you'd seen him give that same look to everyone you knew in town. "But I also like these" you showed him two carefully chosen frog stickers, both funky little guys. One had a knife with a mildly threatening aura and the other had a bow.

"Dude I didn't even see those!" His face lit up at the sight of his favorite animals in silly situations.

"So these ones then?"

"Nah, let's get both" he smirked as he gently ruffled your hair. "As long as I get the one with the knife."

"Oh, I was thinking you needed the pretty little princess frog myself" you smirked back at him.

From across the room Henry chuckled "she's right you know, it suits you."

Sebastian cocked an eyebrow his way. You'd forgotten he still hadn't let off the tough guy exterior around the shop's owner yet, giving off the same reserved energy he gave everyone outside of your group and Robin.

"I'm only teasing, kid. She'd fist fight you over the one with the bow and we both know it." Henry winked, responding to Sebastian's silent questioning.

You giggled at the interaction which caused him to raise an eyebrow back at you in retort.

"Hold on to these, will ya?" You nodded, Sebastian handed the Sanrio pair in his hand to you and headed over to the comic aisles to look at the newest editions.

Your attention turned back to the plushies you were initially interested in. After mulling over the options, you landed on one holding a little pumpkin, perfect for the season.

Heading upstairs to join Abigail in your shared love for the occult, you heard a snicker that you knew meant she was up to no good.

"Abs?" you called out reaching the top of the steps.

"Here! Come help me with something" she ushered by a grand shelf on the far wall.

Glancing around at the intricately designed candles used for different rituals and practices, you were enamored with the possibilities until Abigail spoke up.

"Which of these candles do you think I could trick Sam into thinking I'm putting a curse on him with?"

"Abs, you know that's not how that works" you let out an exasperated laugh.

"Of course I do, we practice together" she rolled her eyes. "But you know who doesn't? Sheltered little Sam."

Raising an eyebrow, you reminded her "just because Jodi is strict doesn't mean he's sheltered." It was true that Jodi didn't let Sam do a lot when he was younger, but Sam had done a lot of catching up in recent years, especially with you three as his friends.

"I know that but spiritual stuff still freaks him out. You've heard him muttering to Yoba when we play certain games. He hasn't shook all of what her and Kent drove into him."

And it was true. He wasn't good for anymore than 3 rounds of Phasmophobia before he needed a break and he refused to be the one to use the spirit box even if he was the only one left alive. But you still weren't sure that a candle would be enough to trick him.

"I don't know Abs. Maybe you should drop this fight? You already got even with him by ruining season 3. Besides, it's still just a candle."

"Yeah I could, but he threw hundreds of hours of my time down the drain with that spoiler and called my dad a 'rat faced bitch.' Which was clever but I'm the only one who can say that stuff about him!" she whined.

"Listen, you do what you're gonna do, but I won't help you" you put your hands up in surrender. "I just want a nice time with you guys before I have to finish out the rest of the growing season."

Hoping your words had some effect, you went to take a look at the crystal display to see if there was anything you couldn't find in the mines back home. Mostly pretty common stuff, but there was a particularly beautiful carnelian necklace that caught your eye so you decided to grab that as well.

Satisfied with your choices, you left back downstairs to see if the guys had found anything worthwhile. Not to your surprise, Sebastian had each new release of his favorite series in his arms and a new Solarian Chronicles notebook to run his campaigns out of. Sam was rambling on about a new album to him with a new game and a figurine of his favorite character from the last series you all played together in hand.

"Successful haul?" giggling as you cut Sam off from his speech while you motioned at Sebastian's armful of comics.

"S'pose. Wasn't planning on grabbing this much but I missed some updates I guess" he shrugged.

Turning to Sam, you asked him about the game he'd chosen.

"They didn't have the game I hoped for, but I wasn't holding my breath cause it's a popular release" the blond explained. "But the did have this one. I don't really know much about it, but Vince has been yapping about it for a while now. Figured I'd pick it up and it would give me a reminder to spend more time with him. Kinda been slacking on my older brother duties between the band and Joja lately." He let out a small sigh. Everyone knew how much his family meant to him, but he'd been having a hard time finding a new balance between his adult life and making time for the people he loved.

"That's really sweet, Sam. He's gonna love it!" You smiled warmly and nudged him in the arm.

"I thought so too" He grinned a smile of relief at you. "Oh, has anyone seen Abby?"

"She was upstairs still deciding on what she wanted when I came down here. I'm sure she won't be much long-"

You were interrupted by Sebastian grabbing the necklace you had picked earlier from your hand. While he surveyed it, Sam let you know he was going to check around and see if Abby was ready to head out yet.

"Which one is this?" the programmer looked inquisitively at you.

"Carnelian. It helps with courage and energy. Positive life choices and such. I have one on my vanity already but I thought it might be nice to keep one on me" you explained.

"I like it" he smiled and held it up near your face. "Makes your eyes a little brighter."

You grinned up at him, but the moment was cut off when you heard yelling from the back of the building. It was a panicked Sam yelling at what you knew was Abby to "get the fuck away from me!" You shared a tired look, knowing you'd have to step in.

"Un-fucking-believable" Sebastian muttered under his breath. The two of you followed Sam's shouts of terror through the maze of inventory. When you finally found him behind a tall shelf holding old Nintendo 64 games you grabbed his arm in an attempt to get him to calm down.

"Sam, what's going on?"

"THAT is what's going on!" He pointed to the wall where Abigail was rounding a corner, hooded by a cloak she'd managed to find somewhere and holding a black and red candle covered in pentacles. Tufts of purple hair were half covering her face while she muttered completely made up words in a hushed tone. She completed the bit by contorting her face in odd ways.

"Abby, knock it off" Sebastian huffed.

The drummer kept coming closer, causing Sam's panic to increase again. "Stop cursing me bro this isn't funny!"

"She's not cursing you, don't worry" Sebastian shook his head.

"Then why is she muttering shit holding that demonic candle? Sounds like a curse to me!"

Abby was feet away from the three of you now. You reached out and snatched the candle from her hands before she realized what was happening, eliciting and whiny "hey" from her.

"No she's not." you cut in reassuring the blond. "You can't curse someone with just a candle. Even if that was her intention, these are pentacles, not pentagrams. They literally just signify the elements. Seb's right."

"Well he wasn't right about me dropping our argument earlier. I should've known Abby would do something like this" Sam grumbled back.

"I did get him to stop" Sebastian looked at you irritated.

"What like this is my fault?! I told her not to do it and to chill out" you bristled at him. "She's the one that decided to find a cloak and commit."

"Well you could've been more effective is all I'm saying."

"Abby is grown and I'm not her mother." You felt your patience for this situation growing thin. "I wasn't even there when this shit started."

Abby spoke up before either of you had the chance to make this worse. "Guys, I'm sorry. I should've listened and stopped when we were even but he's just so fun to torment. Especially when he's ruined something for me."

"Abby for the hundredth time I didn't mean to." Sam cut in. "You know how I am, I forget who's played and seen what. I don't even remember to call my grandma, dude."

"Hey, I said I was sorry for not dropping it, okay? Are we good now?" she huffed.

Sam didn't look fully satisfied with her "apology" but thought better than to keep this going. "Sure, fine I guess. But only if dinner is on you for fake cursing me or whatever."

"Whatever, I guess that's fair."

With that, you all silently agreed to go pay for your things and head out. As you walked up to the register and sat your things down, you caught a mischievous glint in Henry's eye.

"You buying this necklace, miss?"

"Yeah, I need the energy these days" you joked.

"Oh I mean I just thought it's such a pretty piece, shouldn't your boyfriend be buying it for you?" he glanced at you with a smirk dancing across his lips.

"Boyfriend?! I don't have a boyfriend." The owner's statement had caught you so off guard that you were fighting not to stumble over your words. You turned around to your trio of friends to find them looking just as confused as you were.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" You turned your attention back to Henry, who was clearly a little flustered himself now. "I didn't mean - I just thought with the matching stickers and the way you guys look at each other. Not to mention you were just fighting like an old married couple in the back..." he trailed off before going back to ringing up your items.

Then it hit you. He meant Sebastian. He thought you and your best friend were a couple? You turned back to the group again to read everyone's faces. Sebastian was bright red and just as shocked as you were. However, the other two looked like they understood what he was saying. Only looking at each other for confirmation, they wouldn't look at either of you two.

You paid for your things and said thank you to Henry who was still a little embarrassed at his assumption. He eased up a little when you reassured him you'd see him much sooner this time as winter was coming up.

The four of you waved goodbye to the shopkeeper and headed back out into the chill of autumn. As your group began to navigate the streets in search of food, no one spoke. The lineup was in direct contrast to when you had arrived earlier, with Sebastian and yourself on the outside this time using Abby and Sam as a buffer for your embarrassment.

Thoughts were swirling around your head like the leaves in the city air. Why would he assume you were dating Sebastian? The comment about the way you look at each other really stuck out to you. And why wouldn't Sam and Abby acknowledge you once he elaborated? Because you and Seb were so close as friends, you'd never allowed yourself to even wonder if you liked him and you were more than sure he hadn't either. Surely this whole situation was just a one off case of Henry misreading your group, right?

After what felt like hours but in reality was maybe 10 minutes, Sam was the first to break the silence. "So we never decided where to go for dinner - any thoughts?" He cleared his throat like he was almost as uncomfortable as you and Sebastian were.

"That new burger place just opened this weekend? But that probably means it's packed" Abby responded. "We could always just stick to tradition and grab some Chinese?"

"Works for me!" Sam smiled.

At least a minute passed before he spoke again.

"What about you guys?"

You were shaken out of your trance when you felt an elbow lightly nudge you and realized the blonde was peering down at you.

"What? Oh sorry, yeah, that sounds good to me."

It came out in a stutter but you smiled back at him to try and reassure him you were fine. Sam knew you better than that, but he smiled back and turned his attention towards the only person who looked more uncomfortable than you did.

"Seb? You here?"

"Ye-yeah that's fine." he mumbled.

"Then it's settled. Chinese it is" Abby grinned.

The rest of the walk was just as quiet from Sebastian and yourself as it had been before the question of dinner was asked. Abby and Sam had filled the silence by talking about the latest gossip on Marnie and Lewis' failed attempts at a hidden relationship. Occasionally you'd giggle at some remark one of them made about the mayor and his commitment issues, but that was all you could manage.

The owner of the restaurant you usually frequented on these trips to the city greeted you with a smile. He did most of the cooking so you'd never actually spoken to him, but he recognized your group and had always been kind. You all smiled and waved to him before heading to take a seat at an empty table. The warmth of the restaurant and the aroma from the kitchen seemed to lighten everyone up, but there was still a twinge of tension in the air. Instead of your usual seating arrangement, you found yourself sitting next to Sam and across from Abby. It was a subconscious decision from everybody, but one everyone noticed. After you'd made your final decisions on your meals, everyone went right back to the usual dynamics.

"I'm paying, did you really need to order the damn menu?" Abby let out a laugh of disbelief at the amount of food the staff was placing in front of Sam.

"Maybe, but it's a small price to pay for what may or may not happen to my bloodline in the future" the guitarist cracked back with a mouthful of food.

Sebastian snorted a laugh at his remark which was the loudest he'd been in a while. While also letting out a giggle, your eyes locked for the first time since the comic shop. He gave you a half smile while a light wash of red colored his cheeks. He was fidgeting with his rings like he would do in most uncomfortable social settings, but not usually with your group. It was hard not to comfort him but you were well aware that you were the reason, so instead you smiled back and turned back to Sam. Not ideal, but it felt a little comforting to know he was in the same boat you were.

Conversation flowed easier after that. Sam insisted that he was getting closer to beating Sebastian at pool, which was denied by everyone else. Abigail ranted about her latest fight with her dad for going out to the Wizard's tower again. Goblin Destroyer had quite a few small shows they were asked to perform at throughout the winter, so you made sure to write those dates into your phone calendar. You had to miss their most recent show because it was your last chance to plant a full pumpkin harvest for Spirit's Eve and you'd been beating yourself up for it. Maybe the worst thing Abigail could've done was asked you if you wanted to hear the fun bits from that night, but you unknowingly said yes thinking you'd just hear about how much the crowd loved the band or the drunk shenanigans of a 40 year old man.

"....Anyway, after the final song I started taking apart my drum kit. I look over and the guys are sitting on the side of the stage and these two girls are almost throwing themselves at them" Abby snickered between bites of food. "They were so cool and pretty I almost warned them about the 45 minutes I was stuck listening to them argue about a plot point in their new Solarian Chronicles campaign on the bus! But then they all went somewhere together so I just kept packing up."

You felt all of the color drain from your face at the emphasis on 'somewhere together,' but you weren't sure why. If they really were so cool and pretty that Abby mentioned it - and Seb went with them. Fuck. That's your best friend. You should be happy for him! Why aren't you happy for him? Why is your stomach in knots?

As confusion and shame bounced in your head, you'd made yourself smaller and started picking at the skin on your fingers. Eyes focused on your hands twisting in your lap.

You didn't realize it, but Abby had been staring at you intensely for a minute.

"Alright. We gotta talk about it."

You peered up through your lashes, now aware that the whole table had been silent too.

"Talk about what?" Your voice came out sincere but barely above a whisper.

"This! Whatever is going on between you two" her eyes flicked back and forth between you and the emo on her side.

Sebastian huffed in annoyance. He was bouncing his leg and staring at the ceiling like he'd rather be anywhere else right now.

"What are you talking about? Nothing is going on" you insisted.

"Bullshit!" she immediately yelled, like she'd been waiting on you to say those exact words.

"Abby, I told you, I don't think they know" the guitarist cut in with a much more gentle tone.

"Don't know what?"

Abby scoffed at your question. You narrowed your eyes at her before turning your attention back.

"Sam, what don't I know?"

The blond looked at Sebastian who was still ignoring everyone's gaze, then turned to you and gave you a pitying side smile. "Henry isn't the first person to assume you two are together."

"Whaaat d'you mean?" Your eyes immediately fixed on Sebastian. His leg bounced even more aggressively as he shot you a look that read 'I don't fucking know either.'

Your eyes went back to Sam's as he spoke. "The other day, I stocking produce at work. Pam was grumbling while rummaging through the pairs I had just stacked" he sighed. "Anyway, so I go over to start fixing them when she's done and she turns to me and starts asking me like what Seb managed to do to get a pretty girl like that? I was lost bro. But then she started in about seeing him in a city and not out with the cows or whatever and I realized she meant you." An awkward laugh left his lips as he looked down at the table for a second. "But I immediately told her that we're all just a big group of friends! Then she mumbled something about me not having two pennies to clink around in my head and walked off."

"What does Pam know? I can't remember the last time the Saloon smelled as strong of beer as she does on a Wednesday morning" the emo puffed from his seat.

"Pam might be a drunk but the rest of Pelican town isn't" Abby sneered at him. "My mom said something about it the other day. Evidently she got the idea from the dance of the moonlight jellies when you two were sitting on the dock resting your heads on each other. Couldn't believe it when I told her you guys were just friends."

"My mom too. She won't ask me how you are anymore unless she's heard you out front while I'm out. She waits for Seb to come over because he always knows more than I do. Heard her muttering something about 'young love' to dad about it the other day."

Your eyes were bulging out of your skull at this point. "Your mom? I see her almost daily on my errands and she's never said anything?"

"Well she figured she'd let you guys talk about it in time or something I'm not sure. Dad came home and thought it was crazy Seb has a girl that looks at him like that and he hasn't 'wifed her up yet.' He dropped it though cause mom yelled at him." Sam awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

"I don't look at him like anything?! Seb's just my best friend and your parents are crazy" a high pitched laugh left your voice as you spoke.

"Yeah, that may be true," Abby interjected, "but Leah isn't. She came into the store when I was working the other day and asked me if she'd missed something. I guess he was brought up while you guys were on the dock in the forest and the way you talked about him... she just assumed" she shrugged.

You felt like you were in an alternate reality. Here you were, at dinner with your closest friends being told that the entire town thinks you're dating one of them. Was this all a dream? Did the spaghetti you grabbed from Gus last night not agree with you? A chuckle of disbelief slipped past your lips.

"Okay. Is there anything else? Another case of delusion you can think of?" Your eyes bounced between your friends who were making uncomfortable eye contact.

"Yeah." Sam coughed. "I wasn't sure I was gonna say this but, since neither one of you have taken this well I guess I should." He paused, flicking the guitar pick on his necklace finding the words.

"Spit it out, Samson" Sebastian grunted.

"Okay, okay. You know how Vince has started calling you Uncle to piss you off because he's convinced we're old?"

Sebastian nodded, not seeing where this was heading.

"He asked me on Monday if when you got married if he should start calling her aunt because of the joke, or if that was too mean because of how nice she is to him."

Sebastian stared so hard at Sam that he could've put holes through the poor guy.

"Oh my god" was all you could say. You could feel actual panic sinking into your chest with all of this information. Everyone in the valley really assumed you were dating and you'd never thought of him that way. What were you doing? Were you crazy? Were they crazy? Could you even keep a relationship with him after this knowing that your friendship had been so abnormal it fooled the people who were around you everyday?

Your friends broke the silence again.

"It's not just Henry and it's not that anyone else is wrong" Sam stated.

"Yeah. I mean, can you guys really not see that you act as if you're in a relationship? Like, minus the title and the kissing and fucking, you're there already" Abby let out a nervous laugh.

You made eye contact with them both and could tell she was sincere. They both were. Your friends agreed with everyone else.

Appetite now fully gone, you started collecting your things in any attempt to leave this situation. Sebastian had the same idea and went to the register to go pay for his meal. You dug in your purse in a frenzy to find your wallet so that you could leave a tip and head up front to pay.

"Hey, we didn't mean to upset you." A worried tone coated Sam's words.

"I know you didn't, but what the fuck did you think would happen? I've never thought of Seb that way and I know he hasn't thought of me like that either. And to find out it's the whole valley..." your panic was leading to tears. It wasn't sadness, it was the most overwhelmed and confused you'd ever been.

Finally, you opened your wallet only to realize you didn't have the right bills for an efficient tip. In an attempt to get as far away from tonight as possible, you whispered 'fuck it' to yourself and left what was the equivalent of a 60% tip. You had geodes to open tomorrow so it would be fine. You stood up abruptly, leaving Abby and Sam to murmur amongst themselves at the mess they caused and marched to the register.

Sebastian was standing there still when you made your way over. Tears were beginning to fall silently down your face despite your best efforts to hold them back. The anger you felt at yourself for crying right then only seemed to make it worse. As you approached the staff member with your card in hand, the programmer reached his hand out and place it along your lower back in any attempt to comfort you and pull you in.

"I already paid for us" he mumbled in your ear. "Let's take a breather before they catch up."

You both gave a half hearted smile to the owner as Sebastian whisked you out of the door. Inhaling deeply, the air was sharp in your lungs. Winter wasn't far off and the chill reflected that.

Standing silently side by side, you both took in the city lights and the night time bustle while trying to calm yourselves. Fresh air helping to ease your nausea and lower your heart rate a bit. You hadn't planned on being out this late, your sweater was no match for the climate. Noticing you folding your arms over in an attempt to block out the cold, Sebastian took off his leather jacket and tapped on your shoulders to let him put it on you. You obliged. Normally, you would've argued, insisting that he needed it more. But normally, that was met with him reminding you he had a hoodie and a long sleeve shirt on underneath it, which had been the case every cold outing since your first fall in the valley. He knew you'd miscalculate and he wasn't about to let you freeze.

Once the jacket was secure on your shoulders he resumed his place beside you. In sync, you both looked each other in the eyes. Your tears had slowed but were still falling quietly down your cheeks. Otherwise you were expressionless. So was he. Surveying each other didn't help because neither of you were allowing yourself to be read. All you two had was the assumption that the other's brain was running just as fast as yours was. You took each other in silently until you heard the restaurant door open. You knew it was Abigail and Sam finally coming out to head home, but you held each other's eye for a moment longer. Now that the duo had met up with you, you left for the bus.

Everyone stayed tongue tied on the trek home. After climbing on the bus, you slumped down in your seat and turned your overhead light off. The tension was thick and while you couldn't bare to speak, you also hated that your friends weren't. Opting to put your headphones in and listen to your favorite Spotify playlist on the way home to shut out the tension, you shut your eyes and let your mind run through your feelings as the music lulled you.

Something about Sam and Abby agreeing that you two acted like a couple stuck with you. They spent the most time around you and knew both of you more intimately than anyone else ever did. If everyone already say you as a couple, why didn't you? You remembered repeating the phrase "I've never thought of him like that" throughout the night... maybe you should try? Maybe that was the only way to work this out?

Your mind drifted to your favorite moments shared with him.

Days you'd carve out time to play video games with him in his room, he'd reach over and help you stay alive in the first person shooters you were always dreadful at. How he'd chuckle when he saw you accidentally bomb yourself for the 20th time that day and you'd elbow him to stop. You pictured how he always smiled warmly at you when you did that, even though you always followed it with an eye roll.

It was unspoken that within 5 days before a new growing season, you'd be over in his room while he worked. Notebooks, a calendar and your choice of caffeine sprawled out on his floor while you quietly mapped out where each crop, bee box and sprinkler would be most fruitful. Occasionally you'd grumble, stumped on what the best choice was. He'd always look away from his screen, pull you into his lap and ask you to elaborate on the dilemma before helping you through it. Somehow he always chose correctly.

When he did have downtime in between jobs, he'd come over to your farm to help in whatever way he could. It always ended up with him talking to your animals while you worked, but they all were glued to him so you didn't mind. Afterwards you'd sit on the porch and eat dinner together while the sun set. Talking about new dreams or thoughts on philosophy while you soaked up the last of the sun's warmth together. You swear every time that happened a new freckle would appear on him within a few days, but it didn't happen often so you couldn't confirm.

All it took was a text that you were sick, sore or having a bad mental health day for him to pack up his laptop, his mom's pumpkin soup and be knocking at your door. Despite being a recluse, he rarely got sick so he'd always work in your bed or on your couch with you lying against his side. Stopping anytime you needed water, medicine or to be told that everything would be okay and you'd get through it together. You'd watch tv or youtube when he'd finished while he rubbed your back and played with your hair until you fell asleep. He'd never leave until you woke up and he could see that you were better.

Rainy days spent frog hunting. Watching him light up telling you about the different species you could find throughout the valley. Sometimes they'd have distinct markings and you'd see them multiple times so you'd give them names and lore. The rain making you feel like children again, so you'd start play fighting until one of you was in a puddle, giggling and shouting like second graders the whole time. Robin always shaking her head when you inevitably trudged through her house soaking wet, so you'd both started changing back at the farm first.

Or what was maybe your favorite, when he needed his hair dyed. He never got it perfect when he did it alone, and Sam always made a huge mess of it so it wasn't long after you met that he had asked you to help. It was a frequent occurrence because he'd actually rather die than be perceived as a ginger. Whether it was your bathroom or his changed, but the routine stayed the same. You were always wearing his oldest band t -shirts together, you sitting on the sink laser focused on not missing a spot while music blasted. If you wanted your hair done too, he'd of course help you afterwards and go so slowly to make sure it was as perfect as you always did his. It always felt so intimate and you never failed to take note of how much softer and relaxed his features were in that moment than when you were out with others.

Your stomach fluttered but not from nausea this time. It was butterflies. Fuck. Of course it was. How did you not know how you felt about him? Remembering how you'd go out of your way to make him smile every chance you got. His first birthday as your friend, you spent money you didn't have on a sword upgrade to find obsidian because the usual frozen tear simply wouldn't do. The way your heart felt like it was doing a back flip anytime he looked at you, and had even when he asked you "of all places, why would you move here?"

Okay. So you did like him, but that doesn't mean he felt the same way.

You opened your eyes upon feeling the bus come to a halt. You realized you were already back at the bus stop by your farm, guessing that the trip went so quickly because of how hard you'd been thinking. You grabbed your things, stood up and waved a rushed goodbye to your friends before heading home. You hated to leave so coldly but your mind was a whirlwind right now and you had so much to untangle. Sebastian wasn't far behind in leaving for the mountain, which left Abby and Sam to walk each other home and talk about how worried they were for the friendship now that this was out.

Once you'd shut the barns up to keep your animals safe for the night, you unlocked the door to your house and picked up your cat. Burying your face in her fur for comfort helped ground you a little bit. After a couple of kisses, you plopped her down on the couch and kicked off your shoes. Your music was still helping to combat your mind from going haywire, so you opted to keep your headphones in as you padded to your bedroom to change from the cute outfit you'd planned out for two weeks in favor of something more comfortable. Grabbing your comfort hoodie - it was old merch from your favorite artist - and a pair of sweatpants from your dresser, your mind began to drift back to that question you left unanswered as you pulled back into Pelican Town.

Does he feel the same way about me?

You began to replay those favorite moments in your mind again, searching him for clues one way or the other.

As you began to change, you remembered how when he'd help you stay alive in a video game, he was so gentle with you. After he'd succeeded in stopping your demise, his arms always lingered longer than they needed to. Okay. Coincidence.

You headed to the bathroom to brush your hair that was in knots after being out on such a windy day. Thinking back, he'd never complained about you setting up camp in his room to do planning you easily could've done in your own living room? Maybe that was because it operated as body doubling. But he always pulled you into his lap if you needed help. You couldn't think of an excuse for it so you counted it as a point towards reciprocation.

Leaving the bathroom, you made your way into the kitchen to give your cat her nightly treat. As you sat on the floor with her favorite puree in hand, you pondered how many of his off days he had spent helping at your farm. He hated the sun and had no idea what he was doing, but he never complained. Looking at your cat licking away at the treat, you decided that it wasn't you he was coming over for, it was definitely the sweet lives that roamed your property. I mean of course it was, look at this one.

But what about when you were sick? You didn't even know how to begin to write that one off. Maybe just being a good friend? But it was every time you told him something was wrong enough that you could only feed your animals before getting back into bed. Even if he couldn't get out of work, he went through the effort of bringing it with him. Okay, another tally.

By now, the treat was gone and you'd been petting the little lady for a while. You stood up from the floor and began filling your water bottle and grabbing a snack for when you crawled into bed. Frog hunting was easy to discredit, that was just two friends enjoying nature together and being a little silly. Okay, it's 2 to 3 right now.

As you headed to your bed to take your dishes to your nightstand, yours and Seb's favorite song came on your playlist. The one you always scream sang together when it played. You giggled as you remembered dramatically acting out the lyrics in your kitchen while you made sashimi. That was the last time you'd dyed his hair. Setting your water bottle down by your bed, you remembered how the last three times you'd helped him, he kept staring at your lips and making you think you had something in your teeth. Each time you'd discreetly check and you never did, but it was weird enough you noticed it. In the following nights you'd been reading Elliott's second novel before bed and the main character did this before kissing his love interest. He didn't want to kiss you, did he?

You started to climb into bed and follow that thought when you remembered you'd forgotten to take your makeup off. Begrudgingly, you crawled back out and started to head towards the bathroom again. The song was reaching the climax before the bridge that was always your favorite part as walked through the living room towards your destination. Your eyes landed on a doll that you had bought yourself because Jas owned her best friend and she loved coming over and playing pretend with you when you weren't busy. You stopped dead in your tracks as you stared at the toy. It felt like someone had punched you in the gut.

You were immediately taken back to the end of summer. The two of you had spent the evening after work and school twirling in your sundresses in the forest like you were fairies. Jas asked you if you'd help her with her evening animal chores before heading home and you were never one to tell her no unless you had to. While you were brushing one of Marnie's cows, you remember Jas had asked you a question that you now realized you misunderstood. You thought the question came from the fact that Vince was still young and tormented Jas more than he should, but that wasn't the case.

"Do you think when we're older and grown up that Vincent will be my Sebastian?"

She had asked you with such a shy smile you weren't soon how you didn't understand this sooner. Jas was like your little sister, you should've known that she isn't normally shy about anything around you. She was also incredibly observant. This was the tipping point. There was no way this wasn't a fever dream.

Taking off your makeup could wait. You needed to go for a walk.

You threw on your farm boots so any mud from recent rain wasn't something to worry about and hurried out the door.

You began to take the shortcut from the farm to the mountains like usual when your brain was spinning, but then stopped. Realizing if Sebastian was going through half of what you were, he'd be smoking at the lake and he needed his space too. You turned on your heel and decided the beach was where you'd go to figure this out instead.

Your pace was almost a speed walk, itching to sit down and sort through the tangled wires that were whatever the fuck this mess was of a relationship with your best friend.

Finally, you saw sand. Waves crashing down flooded your ears, telling the story of a storm that hadn't yet hit the valley. Careful not to make too much commotion and wake the writer that inhabited the run down cabin, you crept across the small wooden bridge to the secluded beach across a stream. It was pitch black out save for the moon illuminating the ocean. You turned your phone flashlight on to make sure you were avoiding the tide pools. As you made your way down the dock, you saw a small glow of orange coming from a figure sitting at the end of it. Occupied, great.

You started to turn and walk away when you heard a clear "Hey!" coming from the person you'd interrupted. Turning back towards the ocean you realized the glow was a cigarette and you knew the voice you'd just heard. Even better, it's the person you're in a frenzy over.

You made your way down the ancient wooden slats until you were standing next to where he was sitting, dangling his legs off the side.

"You look cute" smoke left his mouth as he spoke, looking up at you.

Remembering that you were going for bedtime panic and not style, you snorted. "Suuure, thanks. It's the boots, isn't it?"

He smiled and shook his head, the smoke exiting his nose this time. "You been thinking?"

"Yeah. Since we left Zuzu. You?"

"'Course. Hard not to when your friends hit you with something like that" he looked up at you, a soft smile creeping across his lips. "Figure anything out?"

You closed the space between you and plopped down next to him, crossing your ankles and pulling your knees up under your chin. "Well, I knew, and then I didn't know. Then I thought I knew, but I didn't know, so I was thinking, and now I think I know but I'm still not really sure" a tired laugh left your chest after you spoke.

Laughing with you, he shook his head and began putting his cigarette out. "Yeah, that's one way to put it."

A comfortable silence found its way to the two of you again as you sat and watched the ocean. You weren't sure what was right or wrong to say here. It felt like your friendship was at jeopardy but also, like nothing was ever wrong to begin with. That old feeling of ease you felt whenever you were with him washed over you regardless of the stakes at hand.

You decided there was no more point in putting it off. You'd been out in a position you didn't think was possible 12 hours ago. Now that you were here, you couldn't see it as a valid reason to start omitting things from him. That alone would change your friendship from what it had been forever.

"I think I know how I feel. No, I know that I know how I feel." You felt so shaky despite managing to sound so confident in your statement. "I'm just not sure about the rest. I remembered something Jas said to me that has me thinking I know the rest but... that's not enough to convince me I'm right."

The emo looked down at you and smiled. Softly, he said "an elementary schooler is where you're finding your strongest sources of evidence?"

"Shut up" you giggled. "Just because she's quiet around you and everyone else ever doesn't mean you should discard her thoughts. She's incredibly intelligent and observant" you poked back.

"I'm not discarding her. Just thought with everything else that her being your biggest form of proof was funny, s'all." He let out a soft, warm chuckle. "I know how I feel too. I have a guess about the rest but my basis of reason is fully in my head alone and not from the mouth of a child," he teased, "so it could just be delusion."

"I would say that you aren't delusional, but after today I can't confidently say that about anyone" you laughed.

It's too late to turn back now. Might as well put everything out on the table.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Always, angel. What's up?"

You paused. "Remember the last time we dyed your hair?"

He snorted and looked away from you, choosing to stare at the waves instead.

"Did I say something wrong?" you felt anxiety ping at your chest. Were you wrong? Should you shut up now?

"No, no" he hushed you. "It's just crazy for you to bring that night up." He looked away again, swallowing a deep breath. "When you showed up here, I was thinking about you sitting in front of me on the counter, so focused on making sure I looked good. Wearing one of my old shirts mouthing the words to our playlist. Your lashes were fluttering as you looked up at me and just -" he choked on a breath. "Fuck dude. It just hit me like, yeah. Actually I know how I feel."

His head turned to look the opposite way of you and started lightly tapping out a rhythm against the dock. The hard part was over for you, but not him. He had no idea what you were about to say and even though you knew he was anxious he was trying not to show it.

You put your legs down and leaned closer to him, the added feeling of you making him turn back towards you.

"I think that night is why I know too."

He blinked back at you. "You mean lik-"

"I was thinking about that night - those nights - while we were on the bus." You realized you were speaking so fast and tried to slow your words. "I don't know, I just never realized how intimate and I guess right they feel? You don't let anyone near you even emotionally, and then there I am. Helping you with something that makes you feel like who you are, bodies borderline intertwined because I need to make sure I get it all dyed. And you always look down at me with this look on your face and when I think about it my stomach flutters and"

Your frenzy was cut off by the realization of how close your faces had gotten. Sebastian was straight faced, locking your eyes with his dark brown ones. Your noses were brushing against each other as he spoke.

"It's happening again" he muttered plainly.

"Huh?" came out as a squeak from your throat.

"I don't think I knew it fully," he inched closer to you. When he spoke again his lips were ghosting against yours "I think I've wanted to kiss you for a while."

"But you still haven't done it" you whispered back.

Your lips met in a soft, tender kiss. It felt treacherous, yet like this was where you had always belonged. Sebastian reached up and cupped below your ear with his hand, thumb rubbing your temple while he deepened the kiss. You grabbed his arm and your other hand searched for his free one, locking fingers when you found it. When you finally pulled apart, you rested your forehead on his, giggling. He smiled back at you. Both of you went to speak and just ended up kissing again, unsure of why this felt so right and how you'd went so long without doing it.

The day before Spirit's Eve had you feeling like you needed to be everywhere, all at once. You had to drop off last minute supplies to Abby for your costumes. Lewis had told you that the Wizard did in fact need more pumpkins so you needed to get them fully harvested and ready to be dropped off the next morning. Jas needed last minute opinions on which costume she wanted to wear which would entail an entire fashion show and you promised Willy a fresh Salmon before the snow hit which was 3 days away.

You weren't sure how, but you'd managed to pull it all off by the time the sun set, leaving plenty of room to fulfill your last obligation; dying your boyfriend's hair. You'd noticed an orange twinge when you were out by the lake yesterday and there was no way he was going to the festival looking like that.

You'd already changed into an old shirt he'd left in your room when his motorcycle rumbled in front of the farmhouse. The engine cut, then there was a familiar voice saying hello to your cat. He headed to your room to change into more suitable clothes in case any dye got on them, while you hooked up the speaker and hit play on your shared playlist. Instantly, your ears were filled with the sound of that favorite song, the same one that had been so pivotal in bringing you two together.

You hopped up to your seat on the counter and called out "Sebby!"

He padded into the bathroom, face softening to that same expression that you now knew was love when he entered the doorway and saw you.

"Yeah, babe?"

"I think now's your chance" you teased.

He laughed and made his way against you, leaning down for a kiss. "Yeah, I think it is."

#stardew valley #sdv #stardew #sdv sebastian #stardew sebastian #sebastian stardew valley #fanfic #stardew valley fanfic #friends to lovers #yes the title was ripped from a bad omens song with the opposite meaning of this plot leave me alone #velvetlilith777 #ass trio #goblin destroyer #stardew valley sebastian #sebastian stardew valley fanfic #sebastian x reader #sebastian x femreader

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angel-calypso · 3 days

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Mistaken part two

Okay i'm sorry for taking so long!! I tried my best to quickly write something but I'd rather put something decent out rather than a quick ending. I did my best i hope everyone likes it as much as the first part.

Erik lehnsherr x mutant!reader part two !! just a little angsty. mention of depression. Reader is just a little sad

For the next couple weeks, you reverted to keeping to yourself. Only coming out of your room to eat or tend to the garden. You had fallen into a small depression. You sincerely believed that you were simply a placeholder for Raven. That no one truly liked your company, but just missed hers. You couldn't have been more wrong. Every day, when you would creep out of your room, Erik would watch from a distance. He missed you deeply and couldn't understand what had happened. Every time he tried to talk to you, you would apologize and say you had to go somewhere. On the days where you didn't come out of your room at all, he would tend to the garden for you. Raking the leaves, trimming bushes around the property. He and Charles would always have a glass ready for you during their nightly routine.

Charles knew what had happened. But he wanted to let things unfurl for a while longer before he intervened. He hopes that Erik would finally tell you of his feelings. You two would just play around the fact, it almost made Charles annoyed sometimes. He loves you both and wants you and him to be happy but you both can be incredibly naive. Charles would check up on you during the day, knocking and cracking the door open. You felt like you were in a hospital with Charles performing checks on you. Charles would bring you food sometimes, with Erik waiting in the hallway. You never say the intense worrying Erik was doing for you. The pacing and the sleepless nights. His appetite almost gone as well.

“Y/n.” You were outside, just breathing in the air, growing flowers around your bare feet. They were sad, nothing compared to what you used to grow. They almost shriveled up when he said your name. That didn't go unnoticed to him

“Oh! I'm sorry Erik, I got to go, I can't talk, i'll catch up with you another time. sorry” You say your rehearsed and reused apology. He's heard it over and over. Every time stinging more than the last. You slipped your shoes back on. He didn't even say anything, he held himself back, he wanted to rip the metal from the fence and wrap a cage around you. He cursed himself for thinking that. He just wants you to look at him. Say something other than that damn same sentence. He watched you leave then looked at the darkened dead flowers where you stood. He wanted to scream at you, ask what he did wrong to deserve this treatment. Why you avoid him at every turn, he thought you had felt the same towards him.

That night you went to the kitchen to make some tea. You knew they were sitting in the office, you could hear them talking. You tried to imagine yourself there, you knew you would be happy with your best friend and the man you were deeply in love with. The laughing, the drinks, even the chess. Everything you missed just in another room. The kettle whistling brought you out of your mind, you went to take it off the stove, when it slowly lifted itself. You kept your back to him, knowing Erik was standing behind you. You thanked him and finished making tea. You grabbed the tray full of the milk sugar and tea. You finally turned to see Erik, for the first time actually looking at him. His eyes were pleading with you to say something else. His brows furrowed. You realized you couldn't move, frozen, you missed him so much. Just as quickly as you were frozen, you snapped out of it. Erik was standing in the doorframe. Blocking your way out, you walked up to him. You were the closest you two have been for a month now. You looked up to him and excused yourself. Hoping you could get out of there before the tears came.

“No.” He was looking at you, watching your every move. He needed to know why. He felt the metal in the tray, used it to move the tray out of your hands onto the counter.

“Erik. i'm tired, i need to go, i'm”

“No.” He cut you off before you could apologize. He was done with it. But it only made you mad. How could he sit here and torment you? Why couldn't he just leave you alone?

“No what, Erik? Just let me go to my room. I don't want to see you right now.” You avoided his gaze and tried pushing him out of the way. Erik stood his ground. He wasn't going to let you get away tonight. He needed answers.

“Please just talk to me, tell me what i did, why you won't even look at me anymore. What? what is it please I can't keep doing this.” He begged you desperately. His hands had found their way on your shoulders, holding you in place. You were shocked, you didn't expect him to care this much about you. You kind of just stared at him for a little bit. Trying to understand what's going on. You were embarrassed. You didn't want to tell him your feelings, why you locked yourself away.

“I'm sorry Erik.” Suddenly he wrapped his arms around you. You stood there for a while with your arms at your sides. You returned the hug, but with that came your tears. First slowly prickling your eyes then streams. “Erik. I just don't want to see you and her all over each other okay? I can't do it, it just hurts. I walked in that night on you two in the office when she came home. My whole heart sank. I can't do it, i'm so sorry. it's not your fault at all Erik. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm just selfish.” Once you started talking you couldn't stop crying, you told him everything, how you thought he felt the same. How you had fallen in love with him. everything. He had grown stiff and you had felt it, it made you cry even more. You had made a mistake telling him, you just knew it. He slowly let go of you, he chuckled to himself which only made you hurt more. He was laughing at your pain? Is it all a joke?

“Oh, mein armes mädchen, I don't know why you didn't just talk to me or Charles about this. I feel so foolish, I didn't even think about Raven inadvertently causing all this.” It almost seemed like he was talking to himself. He took your face in his hands sweetly. “There is nothing going on between me and Raven. She is like a sister to me. She's a bit touchy, but if you stuck around us, you would realize she's like that with everyone. I thought you knew her and Hank were together, Meine Liebe?” You were confused, how could you have missed that detail? Your face was growing hot with embarrassment again. You apologized for the tears. He wiped them away softly. You two stood there for what seemed like forever. Your bodies were close, you could feel the warmth radiating off his body. He closed the distance between you. His lips meeting yours felt like the most right thing ever to happen to you. You returned the kiss, deepening it. His hands moved to your hips, pulling you closer. After a few minutes, he pulled back. He looked into your eyes, you swore there was a tear in his.

“I love you, Y/n. I truly love you.”

translations:

Mein armes mädchen - My poor girl

Meine liebe - My love

taglist; @mostlymarvelgirl @mirrorball-6

#erik lehnsherr #erik lehnsherr x reader #magneto x reader #magneto #x men #x men first class #charles xavier #charles xavier x reader #erik lehnsherr x reader x charles xavier #x men apocalypse #i hope i did good #x reader #x men x reader #erik lehnsherr x you

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uchispeach · 10 hours

Text

Sycamore Tree (Ch. 3)

Dark! Rafe Cameron x Fem! Reader

Warnings: mentions of underage drinking, dub-con / non-con touching & kissing, obsessive & manipulative behavior, Rafe is a bit scary in this…

This fic will contain dark content: such as dub-con/ non-con and violence. You have been warned.

Almost a week has passed by since you last saw Rafe, still, he had found the way to make himself present throughout the days.

He texted you regularly, checking up on you; making questions like “How are you?”, “Have you eaten yet?”, “Where are you?” and his favorite one: “Who are you with?”

You would be lying if you said you didn’t find his interest sweet; most of the time matching his energy and taking as much interest for his daily life as he did for yours.

The texts were numerous but there were ones more memorable than others, such as the day you finally reunited the courage to ask for Topper.

You still remember his response: “I’m taking care of that, doll” You remember getting flustered by the nickname and almost throwing your phone out of the window.

“Y/N!” Your sister shouted as you continued to submerge yourself on your phone. “Topper hasn’t pressed charges yet…Jennifer told me.” Right, you remembered her mentioning it before. “I know…I think there’s a big chance he won’t” Your eyes left the screen to look excitedly at the brunette, not expecting the frown on her face.

“Pfft” She let out an incredulous sound. “That just means he’s planning something else…something worse than jail.” That took you by surprise, causing you to stand up and reach out for the younger girl. “Why would you think that?” Your face morphed into a worried one.

“You really think he’d let JJ alone out of the kindness of his heart…No Y/N! Kooks always get their way.” You bit your lower lip, holding yourself from revealing the real reason Topper wasn’t bothering the Pogues anymore.

“Let’s just wait for a few more days…There is no need to be paranoid!” You tried your best to sound comforting, either way, Kie sighed out in exasperation, stomping away and leaving you alone to sink in your own guilt.

(…)

“I’m thinking pastel pink…but, what do you think?” You tilted your head while staring at the nail polish container. When silence was all you received, you decided to gaze at the dark haired girl. “Jennie!” She finally looked away from her device. “Hmm?” Her tone confirmed she had no idea what you were talking about.

“You’ve been distracted all afternoon” You pouted while supporting your knees on her soft mattress. “I’m sorry! I’ve been texting with-” Her words were interrupted by the harsh sound of a car’s engine. You noticed her senses being alerted as she adopted an apologetic look. “Please, don’t get mad!”

“When have I ever gotten mad at you?” You questioned as knocks were heard on the ground floor. “Well, you now just might.” The smile following her sentence was awkward.

The knocks intensified and Jennifer didn’t doubt before running down the stairs. “Wait!” You shouted right behind her as you skipped a step or two to get down faster.

The only answer you got from your friend was a fit of giggles, and soon you were both facing the main door. Out of breath you stared at the tall shadow of what seemed to be three guys. “Who did you invite?” The taller girl ignored you, unlocking the door at an inhuman pace.

The wide crystal door was out of the way now, letting in the group of young men. “Hello there, girls!” Kelce greeted you excitedly while raising his busy hands in the air.

Topper followed right behind, wearing an uninterested face while holding a cooler with his right arm. You could almost swear you saw him frowning in annoyance when he saw you in front of him.

Then, there was Rafe; standing proudly with his hands in his pockets, wearing a pair of expensive sunglasses and a predatory grin.

“Hi, doll” His voice was deep and confident, giving you a few goosebumps. “It’s…It’s nice to see you” You spoke shyly, slightly intimidated by his proximity.

He softly chuckled. His strong chest rumbled, showcasing some of the veins in his brawny arms. “I’m delighted too” He joked as you felt the heat of his skin on your nape and his heavy palm squeezing your shoulder. “Now, let’s have some fun” He whispered into your ear.

(…)

The laughs echoed throughout the entire house, and you couldn’t help but let out a muffled giggle as you saw the dark haired boy lifting up your friend and threatening to throw her in the pool once again. “Kelce, stop!”

Even Topper left his grumpy state for a few seconds and decided to smile a little. Both him and the Cameron boy had pulled out a blunt, sharing it and causing you to cough more than a few times.

You were seated on the same beach chair as the blond, forced to support part of your back on his naked chest. He didn’t seem to mind though, going as far as holding you steady by throwing his arm around your neck and over your chest.

Your nervousness levels had reached the roof when his fingertips had accidentally rubbed against your breast; and the blond could feel it exuding from your body:“You’re so tense. Relax.” He looked at you through the corner of his eyes. “I’m sorry” You stared back, embarrassed at your own body’s reaction.

“You’re always apologizing.” You weren’t sure if it was a complaint or not, still, you apologized once again. Realization hit you as you saw him smirking harder. “Don’t worry, I like it. It’s cute.” You were growing more flustered by the minute. “Just as cute as this little skirt you’re wearing.” Your heart felt like it was about to explode from how hard it was beating.

You took a deep breath, doing your best to pull your anxiety aside. “And…I like your sunglasses.” You struggled forming a whole sentence.

And with a wave of newfound boldness, you finally took the decision to reach out for the boy’s face.

Your fingertips hesitantly caressed the side of his face before fixing the sunglasses’ crooked position “…But, I like it better when your eyes aren’t covered.”

“Say less” Rafe took you by surprise as he abruptly tore the accessory from him and discarded it to the side like a piece of trash. “Rafe!” You laughed out loud at the shocking display. He sent you a childish look before holding you closer to him.

Once you were able to tame your chuckles down, the intensity of his eyes on your lips made your whole body freeze. Intimacy between you two only grew stronger as his palm positioned itself on your neck’s side, seemingly not getting enough of your body’s warmth.

“Y/N!” The sudden appearance of Jennifer made you pull away from the blond. And as her hands shook you by the shoulders, you couldn’t help but jump out in surprise. “Jen, calm down. You’re going to get her dizzy.” Rafe was quick to intervene, pulling you flush against his chest. “Let’s get in the pool” She said cheerfully while ignoring his words.

“I don’t know-” She shook her head frenetically. “Come on!” You could feel the enthusiasm leaking out of her pores. “…But I don’t even have a swimsuit” You argued, quickly shut down by your friend’s proud response: “I have a solution for that!”

(…)

“Stunning!” The taller girl cheered you up, noticing the way you scanned your body on the full length mirror. The pink checkered bikini had small bows on the straps, immediately making it your first choice.

Jennifer continued praising your figure until a loud noise interrupted her. “Was that glass shattering?” Her face morphed into worry itself. “Guys!” She shouted before leaving the room and running downstairs.

“Alright” You sighed while continuing to dissect your reflection. A ringtone went off, making you lose your focus. “Everything okay?” You said loudly while saving your clothes on the tote bag sitting right next to the phone.

“Hi, Y/N. Yeah…Everything’s pretty great.” Pope sounded relaxed, allowing you to steady your breathing. “You don’t know how comforting it is to hear that.” Relieve leaked through your soft voice, making the boy smile at the other side of the speaker.

“Yeah, I know…I really thought it was over for us.” His voice still had some remains of fear in it. “Don’t say that!…Hey P, just wanted to let you know I’m not with Kiara.” You bit your lower lip while struggling to fit your umbrella in the bag.

“I mean…I called ‘cause I wanted to talk to you.” He shyly revealed. “Oh!…of course. How have you been doing?” There was a short silence before he replied: “I’m just feeling a bit down.” You frowned, quickly taking the device in your hand. “Why?…Did you and the boys fight?” You got no response. “Whatever it is, you know I’m here for you.” You were quick to remember the boy your unconditional support.

Your friend’s answer was overshadowed by the sudden sound of heavy steps. You instinctively looked around, your eyes finally setting on the door. “…we had to hide for days. And I guess it really affected me not being able to step outside, not even for a quick sec’ and- and I missed you too.” The steps stopped, only replaced by a growing shadow peaking under the door.

“Y/N?” You were brought back into the conversation. “I missed you too, Pope.” You hoped the boy didn’t notice the distraction on your tone. “Then, let’s see each other. Tomorrow!” Enthusiasm leaked through the speaker.

“Tomorrow?…We can’t, I’m sorry. Kie and I have to help my parents’ at The Wreck.” The dark haired boy continued to speak, unfortunately, your mind only allowed you to catch on a few words. “What about Friday? We can all meet at The Château.” You interrupted him.

“Oh! That works too.” The steps could be heard again, stopping you from hearing the disappointment in Pope’s voice. “I’m counting the days!” You smiled lightly. “Bye then. Love you!” You said before hanging up.

The commotion of someone bursting inside the bedroom made you jump. “Rafe!” You gripped your chest, feeling your agitated heartbeat under the fingertips. “Rafe?” He moved without saying a word, an indecipherable look on his face.

You felt like hiding when his eyes lingered up and down your figure, taking their time to analyze every centimeter of skin. “I got lost on the way to the bathroom.” His features were still stoic.

“It’s the first door-” “I remember that scar.” Your feet instinctively took some steps back as you saw him moving forward. The wooden floor cracked under his heavy legs.

“That one” He clarified while your back hit the wall. His fingers superficially traced the white horizontal line that decorated your thigh’s side. Rafe took his time redrawing the thing, applying some pressure with his thumb.

“You were trying to help that feral cat.” He squeezed harder, causing you to flinch. The pain made you remember, it was a rainy afternoon at Tannyhill; you had spotted a trembling kitten hanging on from an old tree’s branch.

“Always caring for the ones who don’t deserve it.” You had managed to wrap your frail arms around the poor thing before you had both fallen down. “I never understood it.” His free palm reached out for your jaw, grabbing firmly onto the side of it.

“I guess you’re too kind for your own good.” And as he lightly shook your head, you remembered the fall, the pain of the piece of glass cutting through your skin and the fierce teeth of the feline burying into your arm.

His breath felt overwhelming over your mouth, but even more so as his lips brushed yours in delicate caresses.

You trembled as his other hand stopped toying with your thigh, and reached for the meat of your ass. He gave it a rough squeeze while sinking his teeth into your lower lip.

You tried to pull away from the discomfort but the blond kept you still with his brute force. You knew better than to continue pushing once you started feeling the metallic taste of your own blood.

Tears started forming once you were forced to gasp in pain. Rafe saw it as a chance, slipping his tongue in.

The kiss was like nothing you had experienced before, so passionate and hungry you could almost feel the desperation on your bones.

The Cameron boy explored your whole mouth with his wet muscle, making you go out of breath. His lips moved over yours with experience, while all you could was hold onto his naked chest -hoping not to faint from the lack of air-.

You desperately tried to pull back as soon as your vision grew blurrier, and after a few tugs the blond finally gave in. Your choked coughs echoed through the whole bedroom.

“You taste…so sweet.” He got all over your face, closely analyzing the tears that streamed down your puffy cheeks.

“Hey, don’t cry” He whispered right before licking the salty liquid on your left cheekbone. “I’m sorry” You weren’t exactly sure what you apologized for, still, you felt the need to.

Both of his palms were now squeezing each side of your face, maintaining you on the same spot as he kissed you over and over again.

A/N: I finished writing this at a government office while trying to get a new birth certificate.

#Rafe Cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #dark fanfiction #dark fic #tw.dark content #tw dark content #tw. dubcon #tw dubious consent #dark rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe x reader #dark rafe x reader #rafe cameron smut

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