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reds-skull · 3 months ago

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Bringer of Demise - Chapter 3

[PREV PART] [AO3]

Here we fucking go... This chapter might sound familiar, if you read the side stories. It is called "Sky Tomb (Reburied)"

“What?!” Soap growls, “who the fuck gave ye the right teh-!”

“Soap!” Price stops him before he can curse this cunt to high hell. The Captain turns to Novikov with a cold demand, “explain.”

Novikov nods, “I was requested to give my opinion on Lumity about two weeks ago by General Woods and Miss Laswell. As we don’t have protocols for this situation, I advised them to keep you, MacTavish and Ghost, separate as to not create new changes.”

“And why, exactly, would a change need to be prevented?” Ghost mutters, his back ramrod straight as he looms over the Doctor.

The posturing doesn’t make Novikov falter, “just as I would not allow an untested revenant with powers we have yet to record on field, I cannot allow you to possibly develop new ones. Today proved to me that, separately, you are stable. As we don’t have sufficient time to determine it… I have to recommend you to refrain from coming into contact while using your powers.”

Ghost scoffs, glaring at Laswell, “you signed on this bullshit?”

“Doctor Novikov is the best Spiritulogist we have, Ghost. He’s likely the closest to figuring out Lumity.”

“Ah can tell ye no one is feckin’ close to figuring out any Reaper, let alone Lumity.” Soap says bitterly, smug satisfaction spreading through him when he sees that the words make Novikov’s face sour.

He can also see Ghost’s eyes widen, before he turns them to Price and grunts, “order me, then, Captain.”

“Pardon?”

“Order me to stay away from Johnny on field, sir. Sign your bloody name on this.” Ghost challenges.

The Captain sighs, breaking eye contact for a moment, “you will not use Limbo around the Sergeant on field. That’s an order.”

“Understood, sir.” Ghost doesn’t seem surprised, “permission to be dismissed?”

Price’s expression makes Soap almost wince in sympathy. The feeling of regret spreads through the air as if someone doused the room with it, “granted. Don’t be late for the helo.”

Ghost doesn’t wait for Price to finish his sentence, before stepping heavily towards the door. He takes Soap’s shoulder and drags him along with a muttered, “on me, Sergeant.” Soap sends a confused look to the Captain, who simply waves him off.

He takes them outside, to the small space between buildings. Soap gets reminded of the conversation they had here, all those months ago.

“They think just because you died once, they can push and pull you like a puppet…”

“… Your strings are going to get tangled eventually.”

Soap doubted him then, even as his resolve crumbled every day Ghost didn’t talk to him.

He didn’t know just how true these words were.

They come to a stop there, Ghost breathing harshly, his grip on Soap’s shoulder shaky. Soap pushes him forward, until his back meets the wall.

Soap tries to think of something to say, anything to calm Simon. He wants to promise that they’ll be fine. He wants to tell him with no shadow of a doubt, that they will persevere, no matter what the future holds.

But he doesn’t want to lie to him.

So instead he asks, “are ye mad at the Captain?”

Simon shakes his head, “no. I know… know he had no choice. Brass has been on our case since Mexico.”

“Then why did ye leave?”

“The traitor.” Simon says, “thinking it might be that fucking Doctor…”

Soap thinks back to the interactions they had. If Novikov really is working with Fate… “Thought they had to be a revenant, not like Reapers talk teh humans.”

“He wouldn’t need to talk to a Reaper, would he? Its revenant will do just fine.”

Soap takes a step back, renewed determination coursing through him, “then we need to tell them! If Laswell looks into him, if Novikov really is the traitor, she will find something!”

He gets pulled before he can continue, “and reveal our cards? Don’t think so, Sergeant.” Simon wraps his arms around Soap’s shoulders, resting his chin on his head, “if we’re wrong, we just let Makarov know we know about the rat. If we are…”

“It could make Novikov run before we can catch him.” Soap sighs, hands coming up to grasp at Simon’s jacket, seeking cold, pale skin.

He feels hands tug at his laces, and his heart twists uncomfortably. “Are ye really gonna listen to Price’s order?”

“As long as you’re not in a life-threatening situation.” the arms around him tighten. Soap’s sneak under the jacket, running fingers up and down Simon’s spine, making him sag against him. “You better not explode yourself when I’m not around.”

Soap doesn’t answer, opting to nod. He doesn’t need to say the same goes for Simon; he’d burn anything that dares endanger him.

He will do his best to avoid injuries, he always does. But when it comes down to it, only one of them can bounce back from a headshot.

Soap can’t promise he won’t jump in front of a bullet for him.

They go back to base when the hour strikes 1500. Ghost separated from him, telling him he’ll talk to Price about the Doctor after Soap convinces him.

That leaves him to pack for the both of them. By now, Soap knows where Ghost stores all one billion of his knifes (seriously, how many knives does one man need? Bastard has steamin’ supernatural powers). He drops the rucksack in Ghost’s barrack, and gets to the tarmac.

At 1550, Gaz comes running by, his pack safely floating behind his shoulder. “Oi Soap! Price and Ghost are still in their ‘Super Secret Meeting’ or whatever, so we’re going to take the first helo together!”

“First helo?”

Gaz drops the rucksack beside him, already floating a few inches off the ground, “yeah, Laswell told us after you left, they’re planning on sending some supplies for the ULF to use.”

Right. Karim’s people probably need all the support they can get, after they lost Graves’ shadows. As much as he hated the bastard, he can admit his powers were convenient to have in battle.

The helo touches down, and Soap elbows Gaz, “och, we don’t need the old bastards anyway, do we?”

Kyle laughs as they board, “don’t let Price hear you call him old, he’s gonna make you run laps in Urzikstan.”

“Ye can’t hide shite from him, I bet he’s scrapin’ through our brains as we speak.” Soap cackles.

They pause for a moment, half expecting Price’s voice to boom in their heads, but it seems the Captain is too busy to listen in on their inane conversation.

Soap and Gaz share a look, before exploding with laughter. It feels good, to pretend everything’s fine for a few minutes. Their giggling dies down when the helo takes off, and Soap watches as the base get smaller and smaller.

He wonders how Ghost is doing.

Soap is used to long flight times, after several years in the SAS where he was often sent to opposite sides of the world on a moment’s notice. The almost seven-hour flight to Urzikstan is mostly spend chatting with Gaz, sleeping, or observing how the clouds gather above Asia as a storm brews.

He wakes Gaz up when the pilot announces over comms that they’re landing in 20. Gaz hates being asleep for that.

“How far behind do you think Price an’ Ghost are?” Kyle asks between yawns.

“Can’t be more than an hour, why?”

“I need a bloody shower before debrief,” Gaz sniffs, “and I don’t think I’m the only one.”

Soap gasps, “piss off!” he reaches over to shove at Gaz, before freezing.

Chk… chk… chk…

That sound… Soap smells at the air, and there…

It bursts under his tongue, as the clicks gain speed, an acrid taste he’s grown to know more than anyone. Gaz is calling out something, words lost on his ears, but the tone reads confused.

He looks down. In the row in front of them, several duffle bags have been shoved under the empty seats. Soap turns his senses to the one closest to the pilot. Moths are clinging to the rough fabric, embers glinting off the metal hull of the helo.

Chk-chk-chk-chk-chk-

He places the signs; HMX, Highly Melting Explosive, burns hot enough to eat straight through steel-

Soap jumps from his seat, burning the harness that kept him tied, and slams into Gaz. Kyle opens his mouth to ask what the fuck is going on, but he doesn’t get the chance.

The explosive goes off. The cabin is engulfed with flames, so bright his eyes burn, the following shockwave knocking both of them into the helo’s wall, Soap feels his body burning, his forehead hitting the hull-

And he loses consciousness.

The howling wind greets Soap when he wakes up. Breath stolen from his lungs, his eyes snap open, taking in the falling sky, mangled pieces of metal burning above him.

The full moon illuminates the dark clouds below him, when he looks down. It all feels so familiar, the plunge, charred hands grasping at air, the world reduced to a swirl of colors. He watches burning moths trail behind him, chasing the lingering heat of the explosion they so crave.

The moths lead him to Gaz. Unconscious, he too is falling.

Gaz is falling. Gaz is falling.

There’s a mangled part of the helo between them. Soap tucks his arms close to his chest, screaming as his burnt skin shifts with the movement. His plan works, however, and he manages to reach the half-molten steel.

It makes his palm bubble and sear, but Soap clenches his jaw, and with a flick of the wrist, explodes the metal.

It gives him just enough momentum to catch Gaz, their bodies spinning in the air.

The explosion was the cause of their fall, meaning Soap will survive, and even if it wasn’t, he would’ve just exploded himself on impact.

Soap will survive this. But Gaz isn’t made to fucking survive.

They fall through the sheet of clouds, water droplets caressing his overheated back, steaming and turning back into water. The world beneath them is dark, the only meager light comes from whatever hell is raining on them, and the ever-flaming moths.

He manages to grasp at Gaz’s tacvest, shaking him as much as he can.

“Kyle!!!” Soap yells, his words almost inaudible over the wind, “Gaz! Ye have teh wake up!!!”

The ground approaches them fast, desperation clawing at Soap’s guts. He feels tears run up his face, as he cries, “I won’t watch ye die, Garrick!!!”

This can’t be it. This can’t be the way Kyle goes.

“C’mon… Don’t do this teh me… DON’T DO THIS TEH ME!!!!!”

Soap pulls Kyle closer, tucking his slacken face beside his. He knows it won’t save him, but he turns as best as he can, so when they crash to the earth, Soap would hit it first.

“Please…” he whispers, the moths the only witness to his despair.

It can’t be more than a minute until they land, and in that minute Soap curses himself more than any enemy he ever felled.

Always strong enough to survive, never strong enough to save anyone.

It is then he hears a scream echo in his mind, so powerful he wants to cover his ears.

“SERGEANT. WAKE UP.”

Price.

Gravity switches on them, Soap’s stomach lurching painfully, his breath caught, shoulders creaking like they’re two seconds from dislocating.

Kyle’s hazel-brown eyes stare at him, wide with fear.

Gaz drops them both, Soap rolling to the side to vomit on the ground. He heaves, eyes watering once again as nothing but bile comes out.

Two hands grab at his shoulders, turning him around and making him yelp with pain.

It doesn’t seem like Gaz registers it, or his twisted expression, not when he’s near hyperventilating, the hands on him shaking.

“You’re- you’re not dead, Soap- y-you’re not dead, please, you can’t be dead-”

Soap swallows down the scream that claws up his throat, when Kyle’s hands tighten over his burnt shoulders. He’s sure he looks dead, he feels the burns go to the bone in some places. At least his face is fine, this time.

“Ah’m not dead, Gaz. Yer okay… we’re okay.”

Kyle stops his muttering, eyes brimming with tears. Soap wants to pull him into a hug, but not only that will probably make him pass out, he doesn’t want Gaz to see just how damaged his palms are.

“We’re on our way, Gaz, Soap, don’t move from your position.” Price relays to them.

Soap shakes away the black spots creeping into his vision. Fuck, he might pass out even without that hug, “copy, Captain.” he answers all the same.

Gaz jumps when he slumps forward. Fucking adrenaline crash.

“S-Soap-?!”

“Ah’m fine, jus’ gimme a mo’ teh heal…” Soap grunts. He digs his fingers into his palms, feels the muscles twitching with stabbing pain, and straightens.

Kyle seems lost in thought, he assumes Price is calming him. Soap looks up, moths still making their way down with what’s left of the helo.

It doesn’t take long for Price and Ghost to arrive.

Ghost is wearing his full getup, skull mask and all, but even like this Soap can tell he’s livid. He jumps out of the helo before it lands, running towards them.

His body started stitching itself together by now, muscles failing him a few times as they reconnect. It made Kyle startle every time, thinking Soap was finally kicking it. His palms don’t get the chance to heal, not with Soap using the pain to stay awake. He couldn’t leave Gaz like this.

Ghost crouches down between them, casting a hesitant look at him, and catching Gaz’s shoulder to give him a shake. Kyle has shut down on him, absolutely lost in his mind, reacting to nothing besides Soap’s bouts of weakness.

Price joins them, waving Ghost off, “I got him. Go.”

Soap meets Ghost’s dark eyes, barely visible in the Urzik night.

“Johnny…” Simon reaches for him, and he instinctively flinches when a gloved hand hovers over his back, “where does it hurt?”

Soap gives him a half-laugh, “everywhere, LT…”

Simon scans him, noting his gruesome state, and nods, reaching around to pull something from his pack. Soap raises an eyebrow when he sees it’s a syringe. “Wha’s that?”

“Morphine.”

Morphine? He doesn’t need that-

Price cuts him off, “Christ, kid, I don’t know how you’re bloody upright with the amount of pain you’re in. Give him the fuckin’ shot, Lieutenant.”

“Copy.” Ghost picks up his left hand, turning the palm up. He freezes. “Fuckin’ hell, Johnny…”

Soap looks away, hating the way Simon sounds disappointed. He fuckin’ promised him not a day ago he’d do his best to not injure himself, and here he is, stinking of burnt flesh.

Simon cleans the inner side of his elbow, and lines up the needle, “have you taken Morphine before?”

“... No.”

“Might make you sick.” Simon presses on the plunger, a cool feeling instantly spreading through Soap’s arm.

He shudders. Feels fuckin’ weird is what it is, “good thing Ah puked mah lunch earlier.” the joking tone falls flat when another round of pulling muscles makes him twitch, and in turn jostles his thin skin until it rips.

Simon circles him, and Soap hears the breath he intakes when he finally sees the wounds up close. His hand hasn’t left his, and it tightens minutely. Soap didn’t see them, doesn’t want to make anyone describe them either, but he’d be surprised if his ribs aren’t exposed.

“What happened?” Simon asks, voice strained.

Soap sighs, “someone planted a bomb in one o’ the duffle bags. Enough teh take down the helo with no survivors. Only reason Ah knew it was there was ‘cause of the timed mechanism.”

He turns his head to look at Simon, after he gets no answer. He finds him staring at Price.

“Someone knew we were gonna be there, LT.” Soap continues.

“Not you.” Price says slowly, “I was originally going to fly with Gaz, before Ghost asked to speak with me.”

…fuck. Soap looks down, at his shaking hands, flames weak as they burst from his fingertips.

If it was Price on that flight with Gaz instead of him… Neither of them would’ve survived.

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seventh-district · 8 months ago

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several days and 15 thousand words later, i am relieved to report that the suffocating urge to Write Something has been sated and no longer has me in a chokehold

#Seven.txt #writing stuff #thinking of that post that’s like ‘u Have To make art or all the ideas stay stuck in ur brain and make u sick’ bc yeah thats been the vibe #wish i wasn’t so all or nothing about it tho. but alas. i’m that way with everything in my life #i either expect 10k in a day from myself or i don’t write at all for weeks. or months :)#and my average pace is about 500 words per hour. so u can see. how that might be a problem. given how many hours are in a day.#and that’s obviously not sustainable. but idk if it’s adhd or what but it’s So hard to quickly start and stop tasks just Whenever #i struggle to be one of those ppl that can consistently write like. 500 words a day every day and then wow! soon you have a whole novel #nah. once i get myself in the Zone then i’m Goin’ and i can’t stop until i’m Done or i collapse from ignoring my body’s needs lmao #it’s something i should make an effort to do though bc i’d love to be consistently chipping away at things instead of working in bursts #anyways this is a lotta negative self-commentary for what is actually a Positive post! bc yay!! i wrote a thing!! Two things actually!!! 🎉#i got the follow-up to last year’s Matt oneshot done And i wrote the next chapter of Heaven in Hiding after uh. a year and some months #i wanted to blow the dust off the ol’ keyboard by starting with writing some less. uh. high-stakes(?) stuff #not that i didn’t put my all into writing them. i always do. just that ik they’ll have less of an audience so ill cringe less if they suck #so then i can hopefully do justice to the [N]MbD stuff that i’ll be putting out next! ehehe *rubbing my hands together* Finally #the next two [N]MbD fics r already written but the first little one needs a final edit #and then the Big one for. uh. someone (u kno who u r) needs a bit of rewriting i think. i wanna make it Better #so release schedule will be 1. Matt • 2. HiH Ch.3 • 3. [N]MbD small fic • 4. [N]MbD Big fic #then i’m gonna write a lil Boothill comfort oneshot. then i’ll edit/maybe rewrite and post that Dew (Ghost) OCD comfort oneshot #i also wanna keep writing the last couple chapters of HiH before i unintentionally abandon it again #and after/amidst all that maybe i’ll manage to get ES Ch.6 written and posted before the end of the year 😭#anyways ik i’ve made posts like this before. talking abt all these Plans of mine. and most of those things r Still stuck in the pipeline #so don’t put too much stock into this plan. i could have another Bad couple of months and get None of it done #but god i sure fucking hope not. i’d really like to cling to my creativity. if for no other reason than that it makes me happy

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chris-prank · 2 months ago

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A desperate yandere in your area

Chapter 4 : Sweet reward

Sub pathetic yandere x GN reader

Previous chapter

(This is a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only, I do not support yandere behaviors in real life)

CW: NSFW, dom reader, bottom reader, sub yandere, collar, leash, praise kink, pet play, teasing, porn with plot, raw sex, yandere behavior and reader is horny too

Word count: Over 3K

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

It was late in the evening. You entered your apartment with hunched shoulders under the weight of your bag. As you threw it on the ground, relief coursed through your whole body. Suddenly, a familiar voice made your heart skip a beat.

“Welcome home master!” Jacce said enthusiastically while appearing in your field of view. He was wearing a stereotypical cooking apron. The ones with “kiss the cook” written on it and heart-shaped pockets on both sides. If you weren’t so irritated by the appellation he just gave you, you would’ve remembered that you didn’t own any aprons like that.

“I already told you to stop calling me that.” You rolled your eyes, “well not in an everyday setting.”

It had been a week since you accepted to make him your pet, as he liked to call it. You still weren’t used to having someone else living with you, especially someone like him. TYou were aware that this guy did bad things, yet you couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for Jacce. After all, he was really keen on the whole, “I only want to serve you” attitude. Besides, there was no reason to deny that it wasn’t what motivated you to take him in. The noises he made the first time you touched him were all you ever dreamed of in a man. So you definitely weren't regretting your decision.

At least for now.

“Sorry! I won’t do it again m— emm supper is ready!” He left the hall in a hurry, waiting for you to follow him. It did smell rather nice, and you were not against having something warm to eat. Jacce’s cooking was one thing you got around pretty quickly since the start of his stay. Gone are the days of eating ramens because you were too tired or busy to make anything complex. You entered the kitchen to see a mouth watering meal on the table. Next to it was Jacce standing proudly, his hands behind his back.

“Are you happy?” he asked with the sole purpose of receiving your praise.

You ignore if it’s because you found his mannerism cute or you were influenced by the fact that he called himself “puppy” on multiple occasions, but you walked closer to him and stroked his hair as a sign of appreciation.

“Yes! You did an amazing job.”

To your surprise Jacce made a loud moan from your touch, his mouth slightly open and his tongue now sticking out. You completely froze in response, and it felt like your brain did too. When he realized that you had stopped petting him, his mouth closed quickly and his face turned bright red, this time in embarrassment.

For a moment, an awkward silence had fallen between the two of you.

“Did you just…” You couldn’t finish your sentence, that Jacce was already babbling what seemed like an apology. He backed away as well, letting your hand drop. He seemed so scared that you would change your mind and kick him out now. You could see imaginary dog ears falling to the side of his head as he looked at you with teary eyes.

He really is like a puppy.

“Jacce it’s fine! I was just… taken by surprise!” You tried to reassure him, “you have to admit that your reaction wasn’t very typical.” You waved your hands in the air to somewhat back up your point. He seemed a little bit reassured, but still had doubts.

“You don’t… think I’m weird now do you?” Jacce whispered while playing with his hands anxiously.

If anything makes you weird it’s definitely not this, was your instant thought, but you obviously didn’t share that with him. You did love the way he responded to such an innocent touch. It made your stomach feel funny.

“No, I don’t think you’re weird.” You took a step forward, “now what about we sit down to eat this delicious meal you made and… maybe I will reward you for it after.” You spoke that last part close to his left ear, a grin spreading on your lips.

To claim that this man sat down at the speed of light would be an understatement. You didn’t even have time to compliment his cuisine that he had choked down half of his plate. After five minutes, only because you asked him to slow down, he had finished eating and was on his way to do the dishes. You, on the other hand, were enjoying every piece of the meal. The temptation to lick it clean was almost unbearable. It was a pleasant surprise when you discovered that he was this skilled the first time he cooked for you. It's a bit mean to admit it, but based on his personality and appearance, you assumed he was the type of guy to only eat microwaved food. In a way you weren’t really in a position to judge knowing your own habits.

Maybe it explains why he worked at that coffee shop. You continued to theorize to yourself how this raccoon man could put this much effort into cooking. But while lost in thoughts, you didn’t notice the figure currently kneeling down at your feet.

“Are you finished yet? I… I want my reward.” Jacce whined, while looking up at you and hesitantly clang to your leg. He was moving his thigh together while letting out small moans, certainly trying to get some friction out of it. So you decided to tease him a little.

“I am, but my plate needs to be washed first.” You declare while avoiding his gaze. You could hear him whimper as a result, yet he quickly got up and bolted off to take care of it.

By the time he came back the lavender apron had been thrown to the ground, giving you a complete view of his depraved state. The outline of his erection was clearly visible and a wet spot stained the front of his jeans. For how long was he leaking pre-cum for it to be this bad?! Or did he already finish with just the petting from earlier?

Jacce didn’t kneel back down, however his hunched posture still gave him a vulnerable look. As you got up, you swore you saw his bulge twitch despite the layers of clothing. You grab one of his hands and lead him to the bedroom. His head was hanging low while he followed you, almost timidly, which was a huge contrast from his previous perverted and shameless behaviours. Once you arrived, you sat on the bed and took a good look at him. Jacce was wearing his forest green turtleneck, as he often did at the coffee shop. Suddenly, it reminded you of something and this idea filled you with delight.

“Tell me puppy, have you been wearing your collar under your turtleneck?” You asked with an innocent voice. He shivered at the question, his cock leaking a little bit. He really hoped this was going into the direction he had fantasized about for months.

“Yes… I have been wearing it all day, I… I just wanted to show that I’m yours” He pulled his turtleneck down, putting his red collar on display.

“Do you have a leash to go with it?”

When Jacce had arrived at your place, he’d only brought a few bags with him. You didn’t go through all of them, but you were convinced there was one in there. You were right to think so, since he seemed to perk up even more at your question. You didn’t even have to ask him to go get it, since he walked directly to a big backpack, as if the man knew perfectly in which one it was. Jacce ended up pulling out a medium size leash and clipped it to the D-ring of his collar.

“I’m ready… Can I choose my reward ?”

“Of course, we will do what makes you the most happy.”

“Then I… I want to show how much of a devoted doggy I am for you.”

You instantly knew what he meant by that. It was only a matter of time since his evident inclination for petplay surfaced, and you were surprised he didn't really make any attempt before this moment. Jacce slowly unzipped his jeans, giving you glances in case you stopped him, but you let him fully uncover his lower half. Finally free from his boxers, Jacce's swollen cock throbbed in the air and dripped precum onto the hardwood floor. You held in a laugh seeing it swing as he got closer to you.

“You need to take your pants off too.” He whined, losing his patience and only wanting to relieve himself from this semi torture. You decided not to tease him further, undressing automatically. You were convinced that if you had taken your time, he would have started crying… which you wouldn’t really mind when you thought about it.

At last, Jacce could see for himself how turned on you were. He was drooling at the sight.

“Y-You look so good.” He lowered himself to admire it up close, the head of his cock almost touching your leg. You took the chance to grab the leash, making Jacce moan and hump your tight. You pull yourself away, but as you were still holding on, he stumbled onto the bed. The second he noticed you positioning yourself on all four onto the bed, raising your ass in front of him, he immediately stopped whining from the lack of stimulation.

“Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! I-I promises to make you feel so good.”

Jacce positioned himself behind you, his hands trembling on your back in anticipation. Jacce bit down his lip, ecstatic that he could pleasure you like you deserved. He slid one finger inside of you, making sure you were prepared for him. The last thing he desired was to hurt you in the process. Then he steadily moved his finger in and out, hadding a second, then a third soon after .

When he felt it was stretched enough around his finger he asked. “Please can I fuck you now? Pleaseeee master?”

You didn’t correct him for calling you that honorific this time. You had to admit that it was kinda cute, just not in front of other people or in your day-to-day life. Your friends or family didn’t need to know about the dirty things going on between you and Jacce.

“Yes puppy, you can.” You swayed your butt in an inviting way as you felt the tip of his cock brush against you.

Your breath hitch has the head got shoved in your entrance, however a muffled whimper coming from Jacce overshadowed it. You expected him to thrust deeper, yet he wasn’t moving an inch anymore. You turned your head back a little and tugged at the leash to get an explanation out of him.

“You feel s–so warm around my mmhg… I need to take my time or I’ll–I’ll…” Jacce swallowed hard and massaged your hips gently has a form of apology. You wanted to move onto him so badly, to hear all the pretty sounds he’d make, but you restrained yourself. This was his reward after all, you needed to let him have a bit of fun.

He inhaled shakily before sinking his shaft deeper. It took a moment before he was completely buried inside of you. Your warmth was, in one word, overwhelming. He took off his sweater turtleneck, tossing it aside, wanting to feel the cold air on his skin to compensate for the burning feeling spreading across his chest. You gawked at the sight of one of his pierced nipples. You never thought he could manage to look hotter and mentally noted that one day you needed to fuck him stupid while tugging at it.

After five slow trust, Jacce started to increase his speed and soon enough he was pounding into you desperately. The room was only filled with the sounds of flesh hitting flesh and the depraved moans that Jacce was letting out next to your ears. Despite the fast movements, he was keeping you in place with his arms wrapped around your waist. He was maybe the one on top, but all the pathetic whines he made every time his dick slid back inside you and the collar around his neck, showed who was really in charge.

He wasn’t the only one that was having a pleasurable experience, because despite Jacce having an average size length, you could really feel his thickness stretching your inner walls. Not to mention that his cock kept pulsating against it, hitting all the right spots. So you couldn’t help but let out a plenty of moans and praise for him as a result.

“You're doing it so well, such a good boy for me.” You turned your head to kiss him, which he happily obliged. He had been drooling so much that his lips were already wet when clashing against yours. Jacce kept making depraved noises while kissing in the most sloppy way possible.

You pulled back to get some air, leaving a chance for the mess of man to speak.

“A-aahh… Puppy is g-good for you, only you.” He breathed out from the intense make out.

You pulled on his leash, causing him to let out a moan and lay even more on top of you. At this rate, he was grinding against your ass like a pathetic animal more than anything, his balls slapping against it rhythmically. Jacce only wished to stay deep inside of you as much as possible. You just felt so good around him, it would be a crime to pull out.

“Can puppy Mngh-ph suck your neck? Please, p-please, please!”

It seemed like each word that came out of his mouth required a huge amount of effort and the same could have been said to you. You tried saying yes, but only a vague humming came out. Jacce took the occasion to murmur how grateful he was, before sucking and lapping at the nape of your neck. Suddenly, you gasped as you felt one of his hands sliding in your inner thigh to touch your sensitive parts.

“Ahh Puppy loves hearing… h-how good he is for you.” He huffed while satisfying the heat between your legs.

This was the last straw for your arms, your face hitting the mattress with a small thump. Your hands now resting on both sides of your head, one still strongly pulling the leash. Your mind slowly went into a haze as you let your mouth open and drool leak profusely onto the sheets. You didn’t even have enough energy to try and keep yourself still, instead letting your body move on it's own has the man bucked his hips into you. It was your turn to let out depraved noises, melting Jacce’s heart with adoration.

“Nnnf p-please, let me hear y-you Aaah… more.” He panted, resting his chin on your shoulder. His right hand was still stimulating your intimate parts, pulling additional sounds from you. He could feel your walls tightening around his shaft, indicating you were getting close.

“Please cum around puppy’s d-dumb dick, Nnngf… won’t finish… until you do.” He took a moment before adding, “that's the… only thing I w-want.”

You tightly shutted your eyes before letting out multiple moans while your insides grope around him one last time. His hand on your sex did not show any sign of stopping its administration, putting your brain on overdrive. Jacce mouvements became messy as well. It was impossible for him to hold his climax after feeling you release like that.

“C-Can I cum inside master? Please Aaah–”

A wave of pleasure prevented him from finishing his pleas. You didn’t know if it was because of the thrill of the moment or because he had manage to fuck you silly, but you eagerly agreed. The second you nodded it's like you had activated something in him, because he cried out a pure sound of ecstasy, loads of cum shooting out of his cock. He trusted his hips a few times before gradually stopping. Jacce couldn’t talk anymore and was only panting hard behind you. Both of his hands went back on your stomach, one rubbing it in a soothing manner. His softened shaft pulled out on its own, leaving your gaping hole to drip out his cum. As you dropped the leash, Jacce rolled off of you and onto his side, bringing you with him. You were completely drained out of all energy, so you didn’t stop him. In this current position, his legs were wrapped around yours, trapping you. Even with the aftermath effects of the orgasm clouding both of your minds, you could nonetheless sense his gaze fixated on the back of your skull. Maybe he was waiting in case you complained about how he was holding you. But with no sign of disagreement his breath came back to a normal rhythm and the pressure of his eyes on you diminished, but not by much.

After regaining a bit of force, you turned and nudged him onto his back so you could rest your head on his chest. Which made Jacce’s cheek heats up and a small shudder traveled his body. We just had sex and he is still flustered by an action like this? You could hear his heartbeat grow faster under your ear, confirming your suspicions. You didn’t make a comment about it though. It would have only embarrassed him further and you were too tired for that. Also being intimate with him in such a way was definitely different. Not that it was a bad thing, on the contrary you really appreciated it.

Then, you felt him gently trapping you between his arms and chest, nuzzling his cheek against your hair. No words were shared. Only enjoying each other's warm bodies and the tranquility of the night was enough. After a long time of cuddling, you finally tried to sit up by squirming out of his grasp, succeeding but only for Jacce to grab you by the waist.

“I want to do it.” He mumbled with a sleepy voice, “let me take care of you.”

You chuckled, “I bet you can't even get out of bed.”

Jacce shook his head and tried to sit up like you did, only to rest his head on your shoulder. It took him a huge amount of effort to jump out of bed, still naked nonetheless, except for his collar and leash obviously. As you watched him leave, you layed back down and closed your eyes, relaxing to the distant sound of running water, slowly losing track of time.

Soon enough you felt a presence looming over you.

“The bath is ready.” He whispered while caressing your arm.

You rested yourself onto him as you walked out of the room. Since your eyelids were halfway closed, you couldn’t see how giddy Jacce was to do this with you. For him these “after care” moments were the ultimate proof that you really wanted him by your side. Why else would they want to cuddle or clean me? Either way, he knew for a fact that’s what he yearned to do with you.

The sensation of the cold tiles under your feet stimulated your brain enough to wake you up, but Jacce still made sure that you didn’t slip while entering the warm bath. Feeling the hot water wrap around you released all the tensions in your limbs. You let yourself sink to shoulder level, enjoying the sensation it was bringing you. The man waited for you to make some space for his tall figure before getting in as well. It was small for two people, forcing you to sit between his legs, your back resting on his chest. It was the first time you bathed together and he was thanking all the power of the universe that it made you two so close. Jacce started to run water over your body and rubbed his hands full of soap over your skin. He was cautious not to touch you inappropriately, asking you multiple times before cleaning your more private areas. He really was treating your body with utmost respect.

“Did I do a good job?”

You nod, watching his hands go up and down your arm.

“Let me do it next.”

After moving out of the tub to sit behind him, you started to do the same to Jacce, but every time you touched his skin small noises could be heard. You stretched your neck in an attempt to see his face. The flushed man noticed and seemed to feel even more guilty.

“I-I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable…” He mumbled, ashamed of being so responsive to you. He even grimaced as he recalled the similar reaction he had a few hours ago.

“Didn’t I already tell you that it’s ok for you to react this way?”

“Yay…” He looked down at the soiled water, “but I know that I can be a lot sometimes.”

“I mean… having unusual reactions doesn't automatically make them bad, you know.” You stopped cleaning his shoulders to run your hands down his back, “it makes you stand out.”

You made sure there wasn’t any soap left on his back, before pressing your lips on it with a chaste kiss. Your actions and words shot directly to his dick.

“You shouldn’t tease me like that…” He whined, flustered.

Jacce was right. If you wanted to have a full night of sleep, working both of you up wasn’t the way to go.

“I’m getting sleepy again.” You yawned, “we should go back to bed.”

“You… you mean that I can sleep with you tonight!?”

You hummed a melodic yes.

Until now Jacce had been sleeping on the sofa since you weren’t ready to have him so close to you while unconscious. The first few nights you even locked the door of your bedroom and placed a lightweight object in front of it. A simple trick that would have indicated if he had picked the lock. Good thing for him that everything seemed in order every time you woke up in the night or in the morning.

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

So that was chapter four and I hope your horny people liked it! Next one will be more story focus and will go further on Jacce yandere side...

Fun fact: This was the first chapter I wrote for this entire story, so there might bee more grammatical errors in it

Like promise, here is the drawing for this chapter!

#yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere male #yandere oc #tw yandere #sub!yandere #sub yandere #gn reader #x gn reader #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #My oc-Jacce #dom reader #pathetic yandere #male yandere #desperate yandere #yandere x you #my art

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boxfullaturtles · 2 years ago

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I’m Bored and Anxious So I Slapped Together a List of Fan Fic Writer Asks

1. Share a song that makes you think of [fic title] 2. Do you read/reread your own fics? 3. What's your favorite fic that you've written? 4. How many WIPs do you have right now? 5. What's a fic idea you've had that you will never write? 6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time? 7. How many ideas for fics do you have right now? 8. What project(s) are you currently working on? 9. Do you write every day? If you wrote today, share a sentence of what you’ve written! 10. Is there a fic that got a different response than you were expecting? 11. Do you have specific playlists for writing fics? 12. Do you have a playlist for your current WIP(s)? Share it! 13. How much planning do you do before writing? 14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick? 15. How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters? 16. At what point in the process do you come up with titles? 17. What's something you've learned about while doing research for a fic? 18. What's one of your favorite lines you've written in a fic? 19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs. 20. What's a favorite title for a fic you've written? 21. Have you ever deleted an entire scene after spending hours laboring over it? If so, why? 22. Do you know how your fic will end before you start writing? 23. How do you choose where to end a chapter (if you have multi-chapter works)? 24. Share a moodboard for (one of) your current WIP(s). 25. Have you ever upset yourself with your own writing? 26. Is there something you've written that you would never want your family to see? 27. Is there a fic you were nervous to post/share? Why? 28. Have you ever tagged a fic “Dead Dove: Do Not Eat”? 29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.) 30. Ask anything!

#dabs in major anxiety disorder and cartwheels off a roof #joke's on your i don't even know how to cartwheel #anyway ask me shit i guess

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lanf1an · 2 months ago

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SEASONS lando norris x fewtrell sister pt.1 - january 5 2025 The annual family ski trip was finally here, and you could barely contain your excitement. There was something about this trip that always felt like coming home—the crisp mountain air, the cozy lodge that hadn’t changed a bit since you were kids, and the chaotic mix of your two families under one roof.

hope people will find this, made a sideblog for this, havent used tumblr in a while, feel free to send any suggestions to improve the lay-out/blog etc. Also let me know if you think this chapter is too long. I've already written many parts so will update regularly if people like it.

pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7 pt.8 pt.9 pt.10

wordcount: 2322

The annual family ski trip was finally here, and you could barely contain your excitement. There was something about this trip that always felt like coming home—the crisp mountain air, the cozy lodge that hadn’t changed a bit since you were kids, and the chaotic mix of your two families under one roof.

You hadn’t seen your twin brother and Pietra in weeks, since they had decided to spent the holidays in Brazil, and you were itching to catch up. You also hadn’t seen the whole Norris family since Abu Dhabi, which had been an absolute blast. You’d meet up with Flo and Cisca regularly in London, having spent Christmas and New Years together, but the whole family being together was a rarity. This year felt extra special, though—it was the first time Dylan was coming along.

Your boyfriend of nearly a year had fit seamlessly into your life back home, and now he was finally meeting the entire crew. Max already got along with him like a house on fire, and you couldn’t wait for him to meet everyone else.

“Stil the same old place. Can’t wait to hit the slopes” Max said looking around with a grin. “You better teach me some sick board tricks this trip Dyl” he continued. “Only if you’re ready to fall on your ass,” Dylan shot back with a laugh. “Careful, Max is competitive,” you teased, they all laughed, Dylan was actually a professional snowboarder, making it that much funnier.

The Fewtrells had arrived at the lodge first, giving you a chance to show Dylan around before everyone else got there. The house was as you remembered—wood-paneled walls, mismatched furniture, and warm fires crackling in every hearth.

“This is where you grew up skiing?” Dylan asked as you led him upstairs, his snowboard bag slung casually over his shoulder.

“Pretty much. Max and I used to share this room—” you pushed open a door, looking at him slyly, excited to share the room with him this time. The room smelled faintly of cedar, its twin beds still adorned with the same plaid comforters you’d had as kids.

“It’s nice,” Dylan said, setting his bag down and pulling you into his arms. “Cozy. Definitely feels like you.”

Before you could reply, his lips brushed yours, a warm and familiar kiss that made your heart flutter as his hands brushed through your hair, leading you towards the bed. Before things could go further, a loud voice broke the moment. “Fewtrell!” Cisca called from downstairs, followed by Flo’s laughter.

You turned, rolling your eyes affectionately. “Let’s go. You’ll love this chaos.”

Downstairs, the Norris family was filing in, luggage and snow-dusted boots piling up in the entryway. Lando appeared last, hauling a duffel bag with one hand and ski equipment in the other.

“Landooo!” you and Max called out in unison, both running to greet him.“Can’t even drop my stuff first?” Lando teased, dropping the bag with an exaggerated groan as you pulled him into a hug.“Ah, our world champion has arrived,” your dad said, stepping forward with a warm smile. “Welcome back, Lando. Well-deserved break, eh?” “Something like that,” Lando said, grinning as he accepted the handshake. “Nothing beats this place, though.”

“Lando, this is Dylan,” you said, gesturing between them. Dylan extended a hand. “Good to finally meet you. She’s told me a lot about you.” “All good things, I hope,” Lando replied with a polite smile, shaking his hand.“Mostly,” Dylan teased, earning a laugh from everyone. Max threw an arm around Dylan’s shoulders. “You’re in for it now, Lando. Dylan’s a beast on the slopes. Red Bull-sponsored and everything.” “Oh, so I’m not the only sponsored athlete here?” Lando said, his tone light but with a playful edge. It was a miracle Max and Lando hadn’t killed each other yet, being as competitive as they are. Dylan grinned. “Guess not. Maybe we should race to see who’s faster.” “Careful what you wish for, even beat Red Bull this year” Lando shot back.

That night, as wine flowed and the parents went to bed early, the kids stayed up playing cards, laughing over inside jokes, and planning the next day’s ski routes.

—

The next morning, you woke to the sound of muffled voices drifting up from the kitchen and the faint smell of coffee brewing. Dylan was still sound asleep, his arm draped over your waist. Careful not to wake him, you slid out of bed, threw on a sweater, and made your way downstairs.

Max and Lando were already up, bundled in their ski gear, arguing over who would get to claim the fastest run of the day.

"Morning," Lando said, looking up from lacing his boots. His grin was warm and easy, the kind of smile that had been the same since he was a kid.

"Morning," you replied, grabbing a mug of coffee and leaning against the counter. "You two sound like you're gearing up for a war, not a ski day."

"It is a war," Max declared dramatically, waving a spatula he’d been using to flip pancakes. "Do you remember the incident of 2016?"

"How could I forget?" you said, laughing. "Lando sulking for hours after you beat his time."

"Exactly. Redemption arc starts today," Lando shot back, a playful glint in his eye.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help smiling. It was moments like these—carefree and full of banter—that reminded you why these trips meant so much.

After breakfast, you, Dylan, and the rest of the group gathered outside, ready to hit the slopes. The sky was a perfect shade of blue, the snow pristine under the morning sun. The energy was contagious, with everyone laughing and joking as they strapped into their skis or boards.

You and Lando split from the main group, both opting for skis while the others took their boards, eager to get tips from Dylan.

“Still as bad at snowboarding as you were at 12?” you teased as the two of you rode the lift up the mountain.

“Not everyone can be a prodigy like you,” Lando quipped, pretending to be offended. “Besides, I’d rather stick to what I’m good at—like beating you down this run.”

“You wish,” you shot back, nudging his arm as the lift slowed.

When you reached the top, it was as if no time had passed at all. Skiing with Lando had always been your thing, a tradition as old as the ski trips themselves. You raced down the slope, weaving between trees and laughing like kids again. At the bottom, you both collapsed into the snow, breathless and grinning.

“Still got it,” Lando said, brushing snow off his jacket.

“I let you win,” you replied, but your smile gave you away.

“I’ve missed this,” you said, lying back in the snow.

“What, losing to me?” Lando teased, throwing a handful of snow in your direction.

You took a break at a skilodge for drinks, glad it wasn’t crowded, texting the rest of the group to join them if they were close.

“It’s so weird how we haven’t actually caught up properly since Abu Dhabi,” you said, getting comfortable and sipping your drink.

— Abu Dhabi december 8 2024

The club was electric—music pulsing through the air, bodies packed tight, and the sharp tang of spilled drinks mingling with the faint scent of expensive cologne. It was the kind of night where everything felt larger than life, McLaren world championship, even as it blurred at the edges.

Lando wasn’t entirely sure how many drinks he’d had. Enough that the world tilted slightly, enough that his usual sharp instincts were dulled to a pleasant fuzziness. He wasn’t really thinking about anything in particular, just letting himself float with the energy of the room.

That’s when he saw her.

She was by the bar, her hair catching the lights in a way that felt achingly familiar. Without even realizing it, his feet carried him toward her. The closer he got, the more the resemblance struck him.

“Hey” he called softly as he approached.

The girl turned, and for a moment, he was convinced it was her. But then she smiled—wide, flirtatious, not the kind of smile she would have given him—and he blinked, the illusion shattering.

It wasn't her. Not exactly. But the resemblance was uncanny enough to send a strange shiver through him.

Still, they started talking. She was funny in a way that felt effortless, her voice cutting through the pounding bass of the music. It wasn’t long before they moved to the dance floor, their movements fluid, fueled by alcohol and the frenetic energy of the night.

Somewhere in the haze of music and lights, Lando leaned in and kissed her.

The kiss was brief but intoxicating, her lips soft and eager. For a moment, Lando let himself sink into it, into the rush of the night, the distraction she provided. But something far away tugged at the edge of his drunken consciousness.

“Lando!”

He pulled back sharply, turning to see Max weaving through the crowd toward him. His expression was one of mild exasperation but mostly confusion.

“Mate,” Max said, his voice slightly slurred, though his amusement was clear. He looked from Lando to the girl, then back again, his eyebrows shooting up. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” Lando asked, putting his hands up in the air, suddenly self-defensive.

Max gestured at the girl, a bemused grin tugging at his lips. “I thought you were kissing my sister! She looks like my sister. Like, exactly like my sister. But—” He looked at her again, his grin faltering. “Also not. It’s weird, mate.”

The girl frowned, her arms crossing over her chest. “Okay, rude.”

“No offense,” Max said quickly, raising his hands in mock surrender. “You’re gorgeous, but I mean, come on.” He turned to Lando, shaking his head. “How drunk are you right now?”

Lando blinked, his mind scrambling to catch up. He looked at the girl again, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. Now that Max had pointed it out, the similarities felt too stark, too deliberate, explaining why it had felt weird.

“I wasn’t—” he started, but Max cut him off.

“Relax, mate,” Max said with a laugh, clapping him on the shoulder. “I get it. Long season, wild night. Just...you know, maybe cool it before you confuse yourself more.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m getting a drink.” She disappeared into the crowd, leaving the two of them standing there.

Max watched her go, then turned back to Lando, his grin softening into something more understanding. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Lando said quickly, still in a confused haze.

Max tilted his head, studying him for a moment before shrugging. “Let’s go find my real sister,” he said, steering Lando toward the other side of the club. “She’s way better company than, uh...that.”

Lando didn’t argue, but as they walked, his thoughts remained tangled. Max was right—the resemblance had been unsettling, bothering him for a moment until Max handed him another tequila shot.

—

Lando smirked. “Well, whose fault is that? You disappeared halfway through the after-party. Left me stranded with Max and his endless tequila shots.”

You laughed, holding your drink in both hands. “I didn’t disappear! I was there—you just didn’t see me because you were busy being... you know, Lando.”

“Excuse me,” he said, mock-offended. “What does that mean?”

“It means you were too busy making rounds like the social butterfly you are. Max told me you didn’t even remember half the night.”

Lando groaned, tipping his head back. “That’s fair. I think I blanked out the moment Christian Horner started karaoke.”

You grinned. “See? That’s why I disappeared. I had better things to do, like chatting with some of the Red Bull team.”

“Ah, fraternizing with the enemy,” Lando teased. “You’re lucky Max didn’t disown you.”

“Oh, Max was fine. But you know what?” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “There was this moment… when I was talking to a certain very famous actor.”

“Who?” Lando asked, curious.

Your lips curved into a sly smile. “Not telling. But for just a second, I thought, Wow, if I weren’t with Dylan, this would be my chance.”

Lando froze mid-sip, raising a brow. “Wait, seriously?”

“Totally kidding,” you said quickly, though the grin didn’t falter. “Kind of. I mean, it’s not every day you get hit on by a Hollywood A-lister.”

Lando set his glass down, leaning forward. “Okay, now you have to tell me who it was.”

“Never,” you said, laughing. “I’ll take that secret to my grave. But don’t worry, Dylan has nothing to worry about. Besides, you were the one getting up to trouble that night.”

“Trouble?” he asked innocently.

You gave him a knowing look. “You know, with that girl who looked like me.”

Lando’s grin faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. “Oh, come on. Max won’t let me live that down. And for the record, I wasn’t the one who said she looked like you. He did.”

“Still, Lando,” you said, shaking your head with a teasing smile. “That’s a bit weird, even for you.”

“Hey, I was drunk,” he defended, running a hand through his hair. “And she didn’t look that much like you.”

“She could’ve been my long-lost triplet!”

“Okay, maybe a little,” he admitted sheepishly. “But I wasn’t exactly seeing straight. You can blame Max and his tequila shots for the whole situation.”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “Fine, fine. But if Max thinks you’re weird, you know it’s bad.”

Lando sighed dramatically. “Remind me why I put up with you again?”

“Because you love me,” you quipped, raising your glass in a mock toast.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, clinking his glass with yours. You settled back into your seats, the laughter fading into a comfortable silence, both of you enjoyed, relaxed, content and tired after skiing.

—

Let me know what you think!!

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sweetimpurity · 7 months ago

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I Think I'll Keep You 4

a/n: Thank you for your patience! More to come for this story, it's only the beginning! Finally got my new computer which will make writing much easier and more fun!! Love ya!

w.c.: 8.3k NSFW MINORS DNI rated p for plot

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

His eyes widen and he has to fight back more tears right then and there. You’re taking him to the hospital after all he’s done? After all he said? “Oh…” He mumbles, standing there ready to follow your lead. He’d follow you anywhere at this point. “I couldn’t sleep so… and I assume you couldn’t either.” You comment softly. The exhaustion written on both your faces. With midterms and classes, bad sleep and the emotional tug of war this week, you’re both due for a nap. But his hand needs to be taken care of first. He can’t keep walking around in pain like that.

“Does it hurt?” You ask as the two of you start walking down the hall. “No… it’s not that bad.” He mumbles, pulling his hoodie on and clenching his hand painfully in the pocket. “Don’t lie.” You say. Something you feel like you keep saying. Why is it so hard for him to just be honest? Even with himself. “It… it does hurt. A lot.” He finally says in a sigh, both getting to the elevator and going down in silence to get to the lobby. He’s looking down at the floor. Exhaustion etched on his face like yours. But you keep an eye on him. Observing his body language. All the things he’s not saying with words. He seems sorry. He seems heartbroken like you. But it’s hard to trust him after everything.

The two of you get to the lobby, hearing the rain pouring on the windows. The white noise of the rain would be soothing if it didn’t mean you had to walk out in that storm. “My car’s on the street.” You pull up your hood, keys jingling in your pocket. He just looks up at your face, nodding softly. He just wants to hear that you forgive him. That you don’t hate him.

You both head out, quickly marching down the walkway to your car. Each shielding yourself from the assault of pouring rain as you rush to the car already running. Finding warmth and safety inside away from the rain. As soon as you can see through the splatters on the windshield, you’re driving off, through the city streets to get to the emergency room. There’s no one on the roads this time of night. And you’re hoping there won’t be tons of people in the emergency room once you get there.

“Hey so um…” He starts, after a bit of silence, driving through the city streets. “I… I’m-”

“Let’s just get there, okay? Let’s just go and get there and…” You sigh, the words falling off. Not wanting to cut him off but also not wanting right now to be when you both have this conversation. He swallows thickly, nodding and falling back into the quiet of the warm car. Clenching his fingers in his pocket and bouncing his knee gently in anxiety. You notice it out of the corner of your eye. You seem to notice everything about him.

…

“...his hand, he’s been having swelling and bruising for a few days now…” You explain kindly to the receptionist once you’re both in the waiting room, standing at the front desk. Miguel standing a bit like a lost puppy behind you, listening to you talk to the receptionist there. “Alright, the doctor can take a look once she’s done with another patient. If you can just fill out these forms and have a seat, it should be about 30 minutes.” She smiles and hands you a clipboard and a pen. “Thank you. And could he please get some ice or something?” You smile and ask. The woman nods politely and going to grab an ice pack from the other room. You both start walking over to the waiting room area, looking over the form in your hands. Taking a seat by the fish tank and settling in to wait a little while. Miguel sits right beside you, running the good hand through his dampened hair from the rain. He glances down at the form in your lap. Then up at the side of your face. Wanting to reach out and touch your skin. Kiss your cheek. Remembering what it feels like to melt into your arms. Thinking of all the ways he can beg for, earn your forgiveness. Just as he’s about to speak- “Here you go…” The receptionist is there, an ice pack outstretched for him to take, breaking him out of his thoughts. He forces a smile, taking the ice pack and setting it over his hand. “Thank you.” He smiles gently. Watching the woman walk away.

He looks back, watching you write down his name on the form. Thinking he can probably do this himself. Before he can interrupt you’re asking him for the information.

“Birthday?” You ask, ready to fill it in. “You don’t have to do that…” He mumbles softly, reaching his left hand over to you. “You can write with that hand?” You ask him skeptically, raising your brow. It’s his right hand that’s out of commission. “We need this to be legible, I’ll just do it.” You wave him off and he sighs in sleepy defeat. Although he’s too tired to even care at this point. He’s more grateful that you’re even here right now, that he’s even here right now. That you’re helping him like this, let alone talking to him.

“October 13, 2001.” He sighs, watching your neat handwriting fill in the little lines. “That just passed…” You mutter in realization, writing the date down. “Why didn’t you tell me when it was your birthday?” You sigh, looking up and gazing straight ahead at the empty chairs across the room. “That was like… two thursdays ago…” You grumble. “Sorry…” He sighs, not knowing what else to say for it. He didn’t tell you because he didn’t think it mattered. His mind is a mess. You look over at him, seeing the look on his face. That he really is defeated. Not his usual self. “It’s fine just…” Your words trail off. The silence heavy between you two.

“You can tell me stuff like that.” You suddenly say much more confidently. Looking over at him, making him meet your eye. And he swallows hard, not knowing really what to say. “You were leaving the next day and I didn’t want to distract you…” He admits softly.

“Your birthday is not a distraction… it’s special.”

Special?

He nods, averting your gaze. Thinking to himself. There’s nothing special about him.

“Place of birth.” You ask. “Uh… New York…” He replies softly, shaking those thoughts away, adjusting the ice on his knuckles. Bearing through the ache that comes with the cold on the hot swelling. You write down the information, continuing on. He’s quiet beside you, only answering when you ask him for information. Because his mind is occupied mapping out things he needs to talk about. He wants to apologize again, for real this time and explain himself. That’s the least he can do. Even though he feels like he’s 10 years old again for some reason. Feeling like you’ll be upset with him no matter what he says. No matter what he does. And he deserves all of it.

“Emergency contact?” You ask. Distracting him from his thoughts. “Uh…” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like your mom or dad or something…” You encourage, ready to write down whatever he chooses. “I… don’t want them to call my dad…” He admits softly, staring at the sheet on the clipboard. “So your mom then?” You assume, readying yourself for the contact info. “No…” He mutters, shaking his head, leaning back in his seat. Looking up from the form, you look at his face. Not quite knowing how to read it right now. You know he doesn’t like to talk about his parents at all. You’ve only heard about his brother and that’s it. But you didn’t think I’d be so bad that he doesn’t even want to call them in case of an emergency.

“Okay… that’s okay we can figure out something else.” You offer softly. For some reason, instinctively, wanting to protect him right now from whatever it is he’s feeling. When it comes to his parents at least. “Yeah…” He mumbles, staring down at the ice on his hand and folding the corner of the plastic, fidgeting.

You sigh. Not really wanting to get into everything right now. Just wanting to get back to your dorm and sleep. He needs sleep too. This week has been hell. So many weighted moments pass between the two of you. Silently sitting and listening to the bubbles in the fish tank constantly going. The bubbles disturbing the still waters surface and yet infusing the water with all the oxygen the life within needs. Disturbance pumping life into the already living. The living need disturbance to know they’re alive.

He hears the sound of the pen scribbling on the clipboard. Tired eyes looking over to your lap. The emergency contact. A lump in his throat watching you fill in your name, your address, your phone number. All for him. All of this for him? How could he even begin to deserve it? He feels a huge rush of relief and watches the pen tip move across the paper. Until it gets to “Relationship:”

“The doctor can see you now.” The receptionist suddenly says, bringing you both out of silence. Grabbing the clipboard, your keys, phone, standing up and ready to get this done and get out of here. Although there’s a part of Miguel that feels this is a last goodbye. Like things will never be the same after tonight. Maybe that’s a good thing.

…

“Alright, so the fractures are here… here… and then a smaller one there. And we’re going to go ahead with the plaster cast so we can make sure everything lines up nicely.” The doctor says, pointing and gesturing to the x-ray on the wall. It’s been about half an hour now of x-rays and examinations. He has two broken fingers and part of his wrist is compromised too.

“We’ll see how you do with the cast and have you come back in a couple weeks. There should be no reason for surgery if all goes well.” She says. Nodding to the two of you and grabbing some paperwork from the drawers in the room.

“Will he have any sort of pain relief while this is going on?” You ask, concern on your face. Miguel can see it. It makes his chest hurt. You’re such an angel and he’s such a dick.

“Yes, I’ll put in the prescription for painkillers and some antibiotics and you can pick it up tonight… I can send it to the 24 hour pharmacy pretty close to your campus if that works?… I recommend starting it as soon as you can and it will really help with the swelling.” She nods and writes down a slip for his prescription. “Thank you.” You smile and take the slip, Miguel soon following with his own quiet ‘thank you’.

“I’ll be right back and then we can get this cast on, okay?” The doctor clicks her pen, taking her computer and leaving the room to go get the supplies to make up Miguel’s cast.

If it were darker in this room, you’d be falling asleep. But the fluorescent lights blind you. Sitting in the chair next to the exam table, unable to resist resting your head on the table Miguel’s sitting on. Looking down at the almost finished document on the clipboard. Deciding what to write. It’s stupid, it shouldn't matter that much. It doesn’t matter so much if it’s just for his emergency contact; just that the information is in there. Girlfriend? No. Partner? Probably not. Where do you stand? More importantly… Where do you want to stand with him? It’s not just his decision at the end of the day and you’re trying to stop letting him call most of the shots. What do you want to be? Do you want to be his girlfriend? Do you actually want that? Or has his behavior over the past month and a half shown you that he can’t be a good partner even if he wanted to? It’s late; you’re tired; why must you make this decision right now when everything is still so fucked up? Closing your eyes, laying your head on the edge of the table, you’re playing a dangerous game. Will you be able to open them again once you pass the threshold?

“I’m sorry.” He says. Coaxing your eyes back open, looking over at him.

“Miguel-”

“Please… I need to say something…” He insists softly. Not looking at you, staring at the floor, trying to keep that list in his head. “... a lot of things…”

He sighs, rubbing his good hand down the fabric of his sweatpants, nervously. Like all the sentences he’s thinking are the most idiotic combinations of words strung together. You watch him a bit wide eyed, just waiting for the words to come out.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted. What I said. It was the wrong way to go about this… everything.” He sighs. Trying his best to be honest and hoping you won’t throw it back in his face. Why is that always his first thought?

“I was a jerk. And then when I tried to… apologize I just… was an even bigger jerk.”

He admits. Glancing over at you to see your reaction. Feeling an odd sense of ease at the soft expression on your face. You’re really listening.

“I was not drunk on Sunday. I promise you. I went to a stupid party and… had a few beers but nothing… major.” He explains. Checking off the boxes in his head. All the things that went wrong, all the things he needs to apologize for. You look down and back at him. Feeling both satisfaction from his explanation and regret over this entire situation.

“And Dana… she’s… always hanging around me and… but I didn’t do anything with her on Sunday. I tell her no and she's still just all over me and... I’m not sleeping with her, I’m not sleeping with anyone. It was just you.” He says, looking in your eyes. And you believe it’s true. That’s the thing you regret. Jumping to conclusions the moment you smelled Dana’s perfume on him. That probably wasn’t right to do and there was no reason for it. But his response to it all was still uncalled for.

“I don’t want you to hate me. Please… I don’t think I can take it. But I know I deserve it.” He whispers. Looking away, staring at the linoleum floor.

“Can I tell you something… personal?” He suddenly asks. His eyes locked on the checkered pattern on the floor.

“Of course…” You hum, giving him your full attention. This is a big deal. Getting him to share this much. Connecting with him like this after feeling so far away. He swallows hard. Thinking hard. Why must this all be so hard for him?

“I’ve never really been in a relationship before.” He admits softly. You’re shocked to say the least. He’s always been the player type and had girls all around him. But never a relationship? Not even in high school? Seems impossible for someone like him. “Hm…” You hum. Mostly to let him know you’re actively listening. And not judging.

“My parents um…” He starts, fidgeting anxiously. “Ever since I was little… like since I was born… my parents always… cheated on each other?” He admits. You’re stunned into silence and he keeps going…

“It wasn’t like… an open marriage or anything…” Your face softens in sadness hearing his admission. Your heart snapping in two. “Now that I’m older I know the language but… as a kid I never understood.” He explains. A thoughtful look on his face like he’s thought all of these things a million times but never uttered a single word about it out loud.

The correlation between the two admissions is becoming more clear. Never having a relationship because the one relationship he’s supposed to look up to, his parents, is filled with betrayal and distrust. “I’m not saying… that that’s an excuse I’m just… I-I don’t know…” He sighs, shaking his head.

You just listen and watch him in silence. Feeling three things. Honored that he would share this with you. Responsibility to keep this information guarded. And heartbreak, thinking about that kind of pain, and that he feels the need to explain all of this.

“You ever think about like… getting too comfortable and then… when everything goes to shit… that’s your own fault right?” He asks more directly now, looking over at you. Maybe he does want an answer. “Like when you tell yourself that someone really cares about you… and then turns out they don’t. Not as much as you think?”

“No. I don’t think that’s your fault.” You finally speak now that he wants an answer. Genuinely. He looks in your eyes. You want to hear more. It’s the most he’s ever opened up to let you in his head.

“I can’t let myself feel that way.” He sighs. Looking up at the ceiling and letting out a deep breath. You know this is really hard for him.

“You think I make you… feel like you can’t be comfortable?” You ask softly, trying to clarify, trying to understand him.

“No you… make me feel… very… comfortable.” He admits in a sigh. Like the words keep getting stopped but he pushes through, forcing them out. The words would be impossible if not for his efforts.

You pause, thinking about what he said. Remembering when he said you made him feel steady. That moment meaning so much more now. You make him feel comfortable but he can’t allow himself to feel comfortable?

“And when you started… trying to tell me how you were feeling…” He sighs. “I just panicked and…” His words trail off, you take a deep breath. Remembering Sunday night, asking him about Dana, about the beer, on the cusp of telling him you were falling for him. That confusion and anger. Remembering what he said about messy feelings, about not ruining what you two had. When he said you weren’t supposed to happen. It all makes a lot more sense now. "I don't know what I'm feeling... I don't think I ever really know."

“I think that’s why I usually only… spend one night with someone and then… it’s over. I’m an asshole, I know… I wasn’t thinking of you that first night. At least not at the start.” He admits. Which makes sense. He feels guilty knowing he’s never been fair to his partners or himself. Plowing through any sort of feeling that might arise. But when you came along, that all became much harder. Not harder; impossible. His feelings for you were impossible to ignore. “But you’ve never left my mind since then.”

“You’re the longest I’ve ever… stuck with someone I guess. Or that you’ve stuck with me.” He says softly. Stealing glances at you, fearing your reaction just a bit. You’re shocked to say the least. A month and a half? He’s really never gotten closer to anyone else before?

Being his. That’s what you’ve thought of all this time. Because that’s how it always was. He would ask you to be his, tell you to admit it and you always said yes, you always complied. Because you wanted it to be true.

“Are you afraid that if you and I were together… that I’d cheat?” You ask, being careful around his feelings. Thinking he must be afraid to go back to those feelings brought by his parents. When they cheated on each other, they cheated him too. You want to treat his feelings with sensitivity unlike everyone else it seems.

He’s silent for a few moments. Thoughtful. “Maybe. Probably.” He admits. Which is reasonable if he’s been dealing with those kinds of trust issues since he was a little boy. “But I think I was… just scared to lose you. Like losing you is scarier than not having you at all.”

“But I couldn’t not have you. I couldn’t.” He sighs. “I was selfish and I’m sorry.”

He stares at the floor, all regret and heartbreak. So many things laid out in the open. You almost don’t know what to say. Almost.

“Miguel…” You address him, standing up and stepping around the small room for a moment. Then focusing back on him.

“I forgive you.”

He instantly looks up at you. He could cry. Relief in the purest form shot right into his soul.

“I can’t relate to your feelings with your parents and… everything. But that doesn’t mean I can’t understand. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to understand.” You say softly. He nods in understanding. His heart feeling a lightness he hasn’t felt since… ever.

“Being with you made me… feel confident and… wanted? I guess… no one’s ever made me feel that way before.” You admit. Sharing your own confessions. His eyes follow you every step around the room as you pace and speak. He’s surprised to have caused you anything but pain.

“I really liked you… even before all this started… even though I didn’t even really know you,” You sigh and chuckle softly at the thought. Knowing you fell in love with him when it felt like he wanted no one but you. And that might have been true but you were in love with the idea of him. The idea that someone like him would be in love with you.

“But I realized that the image of you that I have in my head is nowhere near who you really are. And I think you did the same for me.” You explain. He nods, knowing that’s exactly right. His first chapter with you is an unreliable memory.

“So I forgive you.” You nod. And he just looks up at you in awe. Like his heart will explode. He’s never felt this way before. Ever in his life. Is this what it feels like to be in love? To fall in love? Has he been falling all this time and now he’s completely fallen?

There’s a knock at the door. An interruption to this discussion but your words echo in his mind. And he never wants to forget them. “Okay, ready to get started? We’ll do this nice and quick and you guys can be on your way…” The doctor smiles, wheeling in a tray of materials and supplies. “Thank you” You smile and nod, moving over to make room for the doctor’s supplies; standing next to where Miguel is sitting to watch the process; mainly out of curiosity. You keep an eye on Miguel’s face. Seeing he’s still deep in thought. It’ll take more time to understand him, but tonight is a good first step.

You watch the doctor start the process, absorbing the information she’s explaining, the instructions for care and the longer term things. Follow up appointments and such. You make sure to listen because Miguel doesn’t seem like he can listen very well right now.

You watch his uninjured fingers still fidgeting with the hem of his pants. And for the second time you want to protect him. You want to make him feel… comfortable. You realize. That’s what he needs.

You reach across, taking his left hand in yours. Causing him to look up, squeezing gently as his fingers eagerly lace with yours. And it’s like all of a sudden he can feel the table under him, he can hear the doctor’s voice, he can feel the sleeve going on his arm, he can feel the pain in his hand. To get out of his head and come back into the real world around him. That’s what you’ve always done. You’re like an escape and you didn’t even know you were doing it. He didn’t even realize. Imagine how things could be if he just opened up. If he wasn’t afraid of how you’d react. If you’d put him down, chastise him for his feelings. Like he alway has been all his life.

“Miguel?” You hum, to get his attention after the doctor's attempts. The noise of his thoughts muting at the sound of your voice. “Hm?”

“What color do you want?” You ask softly, gesturing to the doctor holding out samples of the cast wrappings. Your thumb rubbing gently over the back of his knuckles. He can feel that too. “Oh uh… I don’t know.” He shakes his head slightly, feeling so overwhelmed in both good and bad ways. Overwhelmed with his feelings of love and fear. “You could get blue for the team colors…” You suggest with a soft smile, thinking of his soccer uniform, looking over the options that the doctor has laid out. Treating him with tender care, wanting to do it, no matter the things that have happened. It’s all in the past now. He smiles softly at your cute suggestion. “Yeah sure, blue is good…” He nods a slight smile at the doctor's kindness and patience. She nods and gets to work. Wrapping his cast up and letting it all set and harden. The blue material going from his fingers nearly up to his elbow.

“Alright, your 4 week appointment is all set, and you have the slip for the prescription. Come back if anything happens, or if you have any questions just call the non-emergency line.” The receptionist says. A kind smile on her face, looking up at the both of you, two kids tired out of their minds, hanging onto life and each other by a thread at this point. “Thank you very much.” Miguel nods with a smile. His injury now supported, already feeling less like it’s just hanging off his body.

You hand over the clipboard. Realizing you never decided on it. The relationship. Because it’s complicated. And you figured a blank line is better than a scribble of eraser marks.

“Have a good rest of the night… or morning I suppose.” She nods. Because yes, it is 4 a.m. at this point.

Leaving through the automatic sliding glass doors, stepping out into the very early morning. A soft glow of the imminent rising sun lighting up the sky. But it’s still very dark out. The birds haven’t even started to wake up and beckon the morning. He walks up beside you as you both head into the parking lot to get to your car. It’s still sprinkling slightly, some far away thunder rolling.

“How does it feel?” You ask, looking over and seeing the blue material on his arm peeking out from his sleeve. “Feels better than before… still hurts.” He sighs, taking a few longer strides and reaching the driver door first. Opening it for you. “Do you want me to drive?” He offers softly. “No, you only have one hand.” You quickly refuse.

“I can drive with one hand… and you’re tired.” He insists gently. “You’re tired too. And you have broken fingers.” You smirk, winning this, getting into the driver's seat. He huffs out a breath of laughter and relents, closing the door after you and walking to the passenger side.

“Take this…” You flail the prescription slip in front of him. His eyes blinking tiredly and he traps the piece of paper between his good fingers. Brow furrowing in focus and reading the information. It’s a bit blurry since he doesn’t have his contacts in. “Let’s go get that acetaprofin…” You sigh, turning the car on.

“Wait, what did I say?” You look at him, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Acetaprofin?” He asks with a smile. “You mean acetaminophen? Or ibuprofen. I think it says acetaminophen on the sheet.” He can’t help the giggles that erupt in his chest. Beyond exhausted, the both of you. “No! I said that! I said acetaminophen.” you giggle, looking over at him, watching him starting to lose it with laughter.

“Nooo you didn’t…” He teases, wiping his eyes from laughing. “You said acetaprofin which is like… some acetaminophen and ibuprofen hybrid.”

“No I didn’t. Gimme that!” You snatch the paper out of his hand and point to the drug name on the sheet. “A-ce-ta-min-o-phen.” You sound it out as he’s giggling, not even looking at the paper, he’s looking at you. “I know what it says. That’s not what you said.”

Your eyes light up watching him smile and laugh. “Maybe not.” You admit, smiling. You can’t help but laugh yourself. It’s not even that funny, you both know that. But you’re both so tired, everything is funny. “Well science boy, maybe you should do your thesis on acetaprofin…” You joke.

“Yeah, I’m sure Alchemax would love that. A thesis on combining two drugs that do pretty much the same thing…” He sighs, the both of you coming down from a laughing fit. Sitting in your running car, in the corner of the emergency room parking lot, in the middle of the city, at four in the morning.

“Hah…” He sighs. That laughter was much needed. For both of you. “Y’know… we don’t have to go get it now. We can just go back to school. I can get it myself another day.” He says. Knowing you’re both exhausted and feeling bad for keeping you awake for so long. Although he does enjoy spending time with you again. Feeling like he doesn’t have to put his shield up. It’s harder to do when you’re not having sex. When he’s just being purely himself. It’s a new feeling.

He feels a little strange. Not just because he’s running on fumes but because of what he told you. But you don’t seem to be treating him any differently. If anything, it’s just making him feel a little closer to you. He’s never felt something like that before. Like you could be… someone he confides in. The first person on his mind. That’s what’s happened for the last month and a half anyway.

“No way… we’re getting your damn acetaprofin if it’s the last damn thing I damn do.” You protest, putting the car in drive and pulling out of the parking lot. On a mission. A mission of pain relief.

“Picking up for O’Hara?” You say at the pharmacy desk, the old woman behind the register typing into the old computer to bring up the prescription. “Date of birth?” She asks, looking at the two of you over the edge of her glasses. Miguel steps forward to answer.

“08/13/2001.” You state before he can. A satisfied smile on your face for knowing his birthday now. Even if he didn’t tell you the day it was happening.

“It’s just been sent in… I’ll make it up for you.” The old woman says, her New York accent quite thick. And she moves around slowly to go make up his prescription acetaminophen and antibiotics. “Okay thank you.” Miguel smiles. The two of you having to wait some more this morning.

…

“Strawberry or Cherry?” You sigh, holding out two packs of twizzlers in front of him. The two of you migrating to the candy aisle and looking through the endless sweets. “Strawberry obviously.” He nods, pointing at the pack, keeping his cast wrapped arm close to his chest, a sign to you that the pain is in fact bothering him. “Obviously.” You nod. Totally agreeing.

“Ha. I had to give my brother the heimlich once with one of these.” You cringe and hold up a box of Lemonheads. “Oh no, really?” His eyes widen, meeting your eyes. What if that had been Gabriel?

“Yeah, and then my mom banned them from all the kids…” You giggle, putting it back on the shelf and looking at another candy item. He grins at the thought, imagining what your family must be like. After all the little things you’ve told him. Your parents and siblings. It’s like a different world he’s never stepped into before.

“This is Gabriel’s favorite…” He nods and points to a box of warhead hard candies on the shelf. “We used to have competitions” He smiles, looking at you. “Oh the ‘see who can hold it in their mouth the longest without spitting it out’ competition? I know it well…”

“Mhm.” He nods, enjoying feeling like he can be similar to you in some way. He does love Gabriel a lot and hearing the way you’ve always talked about your own family makes him feel good. Even if his own family doesn’t feel like much of a family at all.

…

“These lights are so bright.” You huff, crouching down and looking in the makeup aisle. Miguel leaning against one of the shelves and trying not to fall asleep standing up. “Which one… on my skin?” You sigh, grabbing two blush shades, standing up with whatever energy you have left. Holding them up to him. He blinks tiredly and takes the two small things from your hands, walking right up to you and holding them up to your cheeks. “What am I looking for?” He asks, holding each one on the sides of your cheeks. Your eyes closed.

“Just for… which one matches best for my undertooooones…” You drawl with eyes still closed, feeling the backs of his fingers on your cheeks. “Undertooooones…” He echos softly and teases. “Hmm…” He hums, looking back and forth and then just looking at your face. Your lashes, your lips. Feeling like he could just kiss you right now. It would be so easy to just peck your lips.

“So?” Your voice brings him out of his thoughts. “Uh I think this one… I don’t know. That one is pretty.” He sighs, ignoring the urge to kiss your lips. Knowing he probably shouldn’t. But he wants to. Your eyes flutter open, causing his heart to flutter at the sight. Your hands coming to grasp his wrists. The two products in his fingers. Looking down at the one he chose. “Yeah, I like that one.” You nod and he adds it to the small pile of candy and miscellaneous things you’ve both picked out around the store.

…

“Mm this one is good…” Miguel holds a bottle of shampoo over to you. Letting you smell it. “Coconut Milk and turmeric…” You mumble, reading the scent on the bottle before clasping your hands over his hands around the bottle and smelling. The rim of the bottle touches your nose, getting some soap on there. “Ah- yeah it smells good” You giggle, shampoo above your lip. “Oh no sorry…” He laughs, the two of you deliriously tired. His other hand comes up to wipe the soap off, rubbing over the ridge of your lip and getting it off. All while you’re both quietly giggling among the shampoo selections.

“Are we being too loud?” You giggle, whispering and looking up at him. There’s no one else in here it’s so late but still you’re both giggling endlessly in the aisles. “Probably…” He whispers, putting the shampoo back on the shelf. The two of you standing close, huddled next to the shelves and aimlessly looking around waiting for his prescription to be ready.

…

“I didn’t know they sell vibrators at the drug store…” You comment. Wandered into the aisle of sexual health and products. Staring up at the row of vibrators on the top shelf, kept in those plastic cages. Needing the employees' help to unlock it. “I guess… maybe people need it… for medical… things.” He sighs behind you. Like zombies, the two of you.

“What kind of medical things?” You raise a brow at him, turning around to face him. He takes a closer look at the boxes, lifting one toy and reading the back of it.

“Mm… neglected clit disease?” He jokes, looking up in your eyes. A smug look on his face and a smile spreading over yours. His eyes gleaming watching you laugh. “Stupid boyfriend syndrome?” He adds. “Yeah possibly…” You nod.

“Boyfriend with broken fingers disorder.” He smiles a goofy grin, holding up his cast and shrugging. His poor broken fingers. Boyfriend.

“Yeah you’re right… it’s on the rise…” You laugh softly and nod. He nods, reading the back of the box and turning to look at the other models on the shelf.

Your eyes scan over the side of his face as he turns. Wanting to reach out and run your hands through his hair like you’ve done so many times before. But it’s never been like this before. Just the two of you like this. Like friends. But there’s something extra obviously because you’ve seen each other naked more times than you can remember. But being away from him was like rehab from an addiction. An addiction to him, the feeling of him, the way he can make you feel.

You roll your eyes and smile. Turning to leave the aisle. He smiles that same grin. Watching you start walking, he looks down at the box in his hand. Piling the vibrator on the stack of items in his arm with a smirk on his face. Among the candy, makeup, shampoo and miscellaneous things you’ve both picked out, the sex toy like a cherry on top.

…

He smiles watching you huff and sit down on the floor. Right in the middle a different aisle. Paper and stationary on one side and birthday cards on the other. Tilting his head and looking down at you on the floor. Sharing your exhaustion. “How does it feel?” You ask and he walks over, sitting down in front of you, criss crossed and facing you. Setting the items down on the floor too.

“It hurts…” He admits, not feeling the need to lie about it. Not anymore. You nod and yawn. Looking over and seeing a pack of black sharpies. Leaning over to grab it.

“Can I write on it?” You smile and brighten up at the thought. “My cast?” He grins and watches you. Your excitement.

“Yeah a little message or a doodle” You pull open the pack of markers. Planning to just pay for them on the way out. “Fine, just no dicks, okay?” He teases and you feign disappointment at his request. He scoots closer to you as you hold out the sharpie for the blue material on his arm. “Hmm…” You think of what to write or draw for your masterpiece. Since he’ll have it on there for a few weeks you want to make it count.

He’s just smiling, watching your pretty face as you think of what to write, his arm draped over your lap and your fingers dancing over his upper arm to hold it in place, pen in hand.

You start shaking your head and he can tell you’ve thought of something. “What?” He grins. “No… nothing.” You smile, shaking your head. “Come on… do it. Whatever you thought of, just write it.”

“No I can’t.” You smile nervously, looking up in his eyes. “Yes you can.” He replies in the same tone. Gesturing to his cast. “Write it.”

“Close your eyes.” You demand and he does so. His eyes fluttering closed. A smile on his lips. You debate it for a second. The thing you thought of was originally sort of supposed to be a joke but it could also not be a joke at the same time. You don’t want to make things awkward or more complicated. Shaking your head, you decide to just do it. Maybe he’ll laugh. The felt tip scratches on the hardened blue material. He waits patiently with eyes closed until finally…

“Done.” You sigh, already feeling embarrassed. But it’s on there and it’s permanent. His eyes flutter open, searching the cast on his arm. Eyes scanning over the black cursive letters. Just one small word.

Mine.

His eyes lock on the word. Reading it over. Over and over then looking up at you. After all that’s happened, all he said, all that went on. You know and he does too, that you’re being very generous with your heart. As you’ve always been.

“I like it…” He hums softly, nodding and looking back down at the writing. After seeing that slight blush of embarrassment on your cheeks.

Is this all he’s ever wanted? To be yours. And for you to be the one to make it so? All the times he made you his, all the times he claimed you, took you, those times don’t compare to this one. This little word, written by your hand, from your mind, your heart. He won’t take it for granted.

“I should’ve just drawn a dick…” You shake your head and smile. The tension dissolving then. Meeting his eyes for a moment. Unable to hide the bit of embarrassment. You don’t want to repeat patterns of the past. But you also want to be honest about your feelings. “Fine, you can draw a dick.”

”Really??!”

“No!!” He laughs. “I was just kidding!”

“No, you said it so I can do it!”

“No no no, I take it back!” He refuses with a smile, shaking his head and laughing, his eyes locked on your smile. Again, he just wants to kiss you. To kiss you again after feeling like it’s been forever since he’s had the chance. “Come onnnnn…” You smile and he shakes his head, wanting to take your face into his hands and kiss your lips. It almost makes his heart sore, knowing that he really shouldn’t do it. And he’s trying to be careful. Holding so tightly onto this olive branch.

“Let’s go see if it’s ready now, yeah?” He suggests, needing to change the subject for his own sake. “Fine…” You whine, watching him rise, accepting his hand when he stretches it out to you to get up from the floor.

…

You both watch the old woman scan the items and the prescriptions. Rolling your eyes at Miguel’s smirk when she scans the vibrator, taking off the protected cage around the box. The woman having absolutely no reaction to the item. She just doesn’t care, not at this hour and probably not at any other hour either.

You look for some money to pay for the makeup and the things you picked out but before you can he puts his card in the machine, reaching his arm around your waist to press the numbers. His chest pressing to your back slightly. You watch the thick black card go into the machine. The numbers going in and the ding when it accepts easily. “Thank you, have a nice night.” The woman says, her voice low and gravelly but she’s been kind overall.

“Thank you.” Miguel nods and grabs the bag off the counter after taking his card back. “Thanks!” You smile and start walking, with him right beside you. “Where’s the receipt? I can give you some cash for my things…”

“Don’t worry about it.” He assures. Shaking his head and holding the bag of items in his good hand.

“If you say so…” You sigh, walking beside him as you both leave the drug store. “Thank you…”

The sun is just starting to light up the early morning sky now that it’s about 5 am. Birds starting to chirp. “I need to sleep.” You sigh, getting in the driver's seat. And Miguel in the passenger seat with the bag of things on his lap. “I can drive if you want…” He offers again with a yawn, stretching his back slightly, his head against the headrest. “No it’s fine, it’s only a few minutes…” You assure him, buckling up and starting the car to get back to the dorms.

You start driving, pulling out of the parking lot and turning through the city streets. There are a few cars out but nothing compared to the morning rush to start in a few hours. The city slowly starts to light up with the sun. It’s not even over the horizon yet, just lighting the sky with anticipatory sunshine. He’s stealing small glances at you as you drive. Feeling funny inside. He doesn’t know quite how to place this feeling. It doesn’t feel bad, he knows that much.

“So it says… take two of these… and one of these morning and night.” You read the prescription bottles for acetaminophen and antibiotics. Standing at the door of his dorm room, in the doorway and giving him the slip from the doctor to have. “Thank you.” He nods softly, genuinely. Although that one thank you doesn’t even cut it. He doesn’t think so.

“I can’t believe we literally stayed up all night doing that.” He sighs, walking into his dorm. Glancing back at you and trying to be subtle, wanting to see if you’ll follow him inside. Only wanting you to do it if you want to. You follow him in, replying in similar disbelief, not noticing his glancing and watchful eye. “I know, well we had to wait so long for everything.” You huff, sitting on the edge of his bed and grabbing the bag of things when he drops it next to you.

You grab the pack of twizzlers and watch him take the prescription bottles to swallow his pills. Eyes widening in realization when he takes a pair of round framed glasses out of a case on his desk. He puts them on, reading the small print on the bottle. And you try to suppress the biggest smile. He wears glasses? How did you not figure this out? Regardless, he’s adorable.

“Do you need any help?” You ask softly. Watching him trying to maneuver the lock top with one hand, eventually trying to hold it between his knees and undo it with his good hand. “No thanks, I got it.” He looks over at you, instantly doing a double take seeing the way you’re smiling at him. Or the way you’re obviously trying not to smile. What’s got you smiling all pretty like that?

“I like your frames…” You smile and comment, his cheeks instantly reddening when he realizes that’s why you’re smiling. Looking over at you like a deer caught in headlights and the top of the bottle finally pops off, he flinches trying to keep the pills from spilling all over the floor. “Oh, thanks.” He smiles bashfully, feeling a bit embarrassed but he can’t help stealing glances at your face when you're smiling like that.

You smile softly, feeling a bit sympathetic to him having to learn a whole new way of doing things. Only a little bit though since he is the one that punched his own locker in.

“Sorry if your sleep is fucked for the rest of the week…” He clears his throat, getting some water to swallow his pills. Turning for a second and trying to stop the hot blush on his cheeks. You’re the only person who’s ever made him blush like that. Just by looking at him. You watch him from the bed, biting and pulling the strawberry licorice candy, the only thing you’ve eaten all night. “It’s fine… it needed to be done.” You nod. Not feeling resentful or upset with him. It was your choice to show up after all.

“Well thank you” he smiles over at you, situating a few things before walking over to the bed, sitting next to you on the edge and grabbing a piece of candy for himself, biting a piece off and sighing, flopping back to lay down on top of the blankets. You do the same, mirroring his action, laying down on your back and biting your candy as well. The two of you just lying in silence and exhaustion.

“So… we can be friends right?” He suddenly asks, you look over to see he’s on his side facing you. You take a moment to think. Friends is better than what’s been going on for months. You roll over too to face him, biting your licorice and thinking. “Yeah… I think so.”

He smiles softly, nodding with relief.

“Just don’t lie to me again.” You say and his expression turns serious, understanding. “Just be honest with me and I’ll do the same. Tell me how you’re feeling. I’m not the kind of person to… judge you for your feelings, y’know?” You say like it’s some casual thing. Not seeing how it’s affecting him. But he could cry if he let himself. He feels like he’s dreaming.

I should tell you how I’m feeling. I should tell you that I’m in love with you. I love you. I love the way you speak to me. The way you make me feel. I love the way you care for me. The way you think of me even when I can’t think for myself. The sound of your voice, the feeling of your hair between my fingers. The memory of your heartbeat against my chest, your fingers on my back, your breath on my neck. The look in your eyes when you’re laughing; your smile. The tone of your voice when you sigh my name. I thought I wanted you to be mine. And that might have been true. But I wanted to be yours all the more.

But he doesn’t say any of that. He just nods and smiles softly, grabbing another piece of candy and stealing small glances your way. Laying beside one another as the early morning goes by, the exhaustion overtaking the both of you in time. Soon you’re both asleep. 5 am. 6 am. 7 am and into the morning. Catching up on the lost hours. But not regretting a single moment of this night. 8 am. 9 am. 10 am. 11 am. Noon. Morning classes are long passed and forgotten. Sleeping beside one another on top of his soft blankets. Not even the daylight through the window could wake you from this slumber.

To be continued...

Reblogs and comments very much appreciated!!

Taglist (hopefully I got everyone let me know if you want to be dropped/added):

@miguels-cock-piercings @queerponcho @club-danger-zone @bossva @softcrayon

@nommingonfood @bruhhvv

@jessies-unrelagated-thoughts @mauvecherie-writes @haveclayeveryday @kimivixen

@jadeloverxd @chiikasevennn @mvlanchqly @resident-cryptid

@x0tw0d57 @vampyboys @miguelspriscilla

@francesca-the-1st @migueloharasbbm @razertail18 @laysmt

@tojiragdoll @maiyart @wazawazooo @mun-2996 @marshhbs

@curious-randomlr @safixiovi @daddyfroglegs @theplaid-wearingmoose @reader-1290

@yeanika @elysiumsangel @rinnako @mangoslushcrush @twwcs

@izakopanyi2 @migueloharasoulmate @slut4oscarissac23

@miss-loomis @genny101

@aphinthestars @webshooterrr9 @m4dyy

@jdbxws @roserfz27 @ohara-whore @oharaslove @daisy-artfield

@mooreaey6yem @peachey-pie @migueloharacumslut @pxtched

@yougavemeyourheartyouknow @julia4today

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hivemuthur · 2 months ago

Text

What was that? - Ch. 1.

viktorxfemale!OFC mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 4,6K

tag: #what was that

summary: A romance that explores two insecure people growing closer together through snippets of their time at work.

author’s note: Can I post three things a day? Yes. This is the first fic I've written and I love it dearly. It connected me with @rennethen who has been beta reading it patiently and helped me create significant parts of it, and for that connection alone it was worth to write it.

Cross-posted on AO3

—

“Renly, are you being serious right now?” John stormed into the lab’s kitchen visibly flushed with anger. Renly only blinked at him, a question in her eyes.

“I guess? Didn’t you get my note?” She definitely remembered sending the note asking John to take a raincheck. She even made a song about it to not forget, like the last time. Viktor had mocked the song at first but later grew annoyed with it.

”Please stop, this song is now rotting my brain. I get it, John is a nice guy,” Viktor rotated on his chair with a groan that has clearly been building up for at least one minute.

“Sorry, it’s the only way I don’t get distracted and forget!” to Viktor’s demise, Renly sang this line as well.

“Well, didn’t you get my note?” John said, already huffing, seemingly offended. He did get her note, he did see the little heart she drew on it and a coffee stain that suggested she wrote it hastily, while doing something else with her other hand. So, he sent a passive aggressive jokey note back stating that it’s tomorrow or he doesn’t know when, because he is also oh-so-busy.

“I can’t make it otherwise,” he laid his hands apart in apologetic gesture.

“Like… this week? Or ever?” light mockery in her voice, she said with her back to John, while pouring coffee into two cups. “It’s okay, we can have breakfast here. Do you want coffee?” Renly pulled out the third cup from the sink and waved it at John expectantly.

At which point, Viktor entered their tiny lab kitchen, scrunching his wet hair with a damp towel, his cheeks flushed and clothes slightly dishevelled, clinging to his hot-after-shower body. “Do I smell coffee? Hi John,” he said, waving at the doorway.

“Nothing will hide from you. Crisis averted?” Renly asked referring to fifteen minutes ago, when Viktor banged viciously on the bathroom door, demanding shower access immediately, as he spilled suspicious fluid from Renly’s workstation all over himself.

She said it was punishment for snooping. He said she’d taken his favourite pen, and her workstation was planned ridiculously, making moving around risky. Also, she took showers that lasted forever. She said her shower was only fifteen minutes, which is perfectly within bounds of morning toilet routine. He said she should shower at home and sleep at home; otherwise, she would end up a social pariah like him and Jayce. She said it’s a bit late for that as night is a perfect time for quiet work and she is one person away from the social pariah status. She meant John. So right now, it really did look like she was close to adding it to her work signature. She had to evacuate from the bathroom before she had the chance to dry off completely, which is why her hair was wet.

“Did you shower together?” John’s tone gained additional pitch to it as he asked his ridiculous question, visibly getting more and more distressed.

“Yes, John. We also have occasional orgies that I forgot to mention,” Renly couldn’t help about the snarky comment but when she turned around to take a look at her… boyfriend? They went out about ten times and slept together twice, so she guessed he was her boyfriend already. Well, he looked hurt, and she immediately wished she didn’t say it, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

“Please, don’t be like that. I pulled an all-nighter again, and it was too late to go home. We showered separately, obviously,” she said in a softer voice as the cups were placed on the tiny table in the middle of the kitchen, only three chairs.

“I will give the two of you some space,” Viktor swept his cup with Jayce’s face on it and gave both of them polite smile as he walked out faster, than Renly thought he was able to.

“So… are you very cross with me?” she waited for Viktor to leave the area and asked reaching out to place her palm on top of John’s forearm, but he winced away.

John had always been good at making himself seem indispensable. When they first started seeing each other, his charm felt effortless—little gestures like remembering her favourite tea or distracting her with a ridiculous joke when she was too stressed to focus. She had let her guard down with him in a way she rarely allowed herself to. It had felt safe, comforting even. But lately, the cracks in that façade were harder to ignore. He got offended easily and threw some stupid accusations at her when he was out of arguments. She did admit, she was quite oblivious to some of relationship savoir-vivre, but it was also discussed priorly! And he said he doesn’t mind, so the next part caught her off-guard.

“I… don’t think this will work out this way,” he said with a sigh and waved his hand around making her question if he meant them, or breakfast with Victor in near vicinity. “I didn’t know this is what I was signing up for frankly,” he finished and gave her a sad puppy glance. This made her… angry? Of course, he knew what he was signing up for. She told him from the very beginning how important her work was. And how bad she was at this, but he just called her cute. Surely, this was enough of a warning. Or maybe it wasn’t but John really didn’t seem like he heard anything of what she ever said in the long run.

He was a Piltie, and she was from Zaun. He liked posh places that were trying to pass as casual, she liked to hang out by the riverbank in the evenings and sneak into The Undercity to look at street art and eat street food. He always seemed to pay attention to what she was telling him about her lab work and how many lives it could potentially change but at the end of every test presentation and heated one-sided conversation (it was hot on her side only) when she looked at him expectantly, he praised her with a you are so smart or you look pretty when you get excited about science and it left her empty of all air like a sad balloon in the aftermath of a party. He probably had a politician’s career ahead of him, so in the future, he would be the person to decide whether she does or doesn’t get funding for her research and in her mind’s eye John was a person that would probably happily fund something else than the medicine for long term Grey exposure symptoms. But he was a good practice for that. And despite everything else, she did like him. He had his moments, as they say.

In a few seconds, that took very long in the pocket dimension of her brain, Renly tried to calculate how much fault in this situation was hers and if it was worth to back down and give him a peace offering in form of a dinner at her place, that she would cook, and they would be alone, and it would be romantic, and he would probably get to fuck her on the dinner table.

The plan started forming itself, when John said “I mean… you spend all your free time here, or you drag me around the lanes. Also, this Viktor guy? I got over Jayce, recently he is barely here. So…” he dragged his huge eyes across her face looking for a sign of understanding that wasn’t there “…you understand how I feel when you spend most of your time with another man.” It came out weak, but he decided to stand by it.

“Another man? It’s Viktor,” she scoffed. “Not even a day ago he stated how much I disgust him with Zaunian food in fridge. He works all the time. We sleep in separate rooms. He…” Renly inhaled, exasperated by this accusation. It’s ridiculous, how insecure John was to even suggest that.

“He is a friend. And that’s all. I assure you he is not interested in me.” She had a dead serious certainty about this. If something was fixed in this universe, it was the fact that Viktor wasn’t interested in her. And she didn’t think of him that way either. Except the one time she let her mind wander, and she did. Which was a lie, because she thought that at least twice.

Once, when they met for the first time. She already knew Jayce, who made her gasp the first time she saw him. The impression passed, but friendship remained. Jayce and Viktor, freshly acquainted, were passing her classroom when a quake shook The Uppercity. It caused one of her test tubes to fall into the vial she was working on, breaking and triggering a teeny-tiny exoenergic reaction (it exploded). The hero within Jayce’s body drove him straight in to help any casualties, of which the only one was Renly, face full of colourful goo. From the floor, she glanced at Viktor walking in shortly after his partner, and she gasped, even more than when she had met Jayce. She immediately knew it was wrong to look for so long. Her suspicion was confirmed when Viktor’s expression shifted from amusement to the realization that his brief chance to present himself as more than the guy with a cane had passed. From that point forward, he was very formal with her, though he occasionally joked about history repeating itself within the academy walls.

It was a lie though, as well. She first saw Viktor by the riverbank in Zaun, as a child. She had been maybe seven, and he could have been slightly older. Her eyes, round and curious, followed him trying to chase down his mechanical ship taken by the stream. She tried to shadow him that day, but he disappeared in the mouth of a cave she was afraid to walk into. He had a smaller cane then and she thought him a magician. So, she only lingered in disbelief that their paths crossed once more and that he was, indeed, real. And also, in awe of how beautifully he has grown up. But overall, Renly counted it as a one time.

Second time, after she decided to stay at university to continue her research and teach students, they were copying the notes together and Jayce was growing more and more bored, so he kept trying to start random topics.

"I wonder if all of them are as pretty as Mel,” he said, trying to trace down beautiful Mel Medarda’s heritage while fishing for reassurance from his friends about their imminent romance.

“But maybe it’s not a rule. I mean, looking at the both of you I would say the rule for Zaun is to be full of attractive people as well,” Jayce was waffling on, and Renly grew tired of it.

“And ugly people. And short people. And tall people. And fat people, and skinny people, Jayce. It’s all just people, like in Piltover, there is no rule to here or Zaun. Initially, it’s the same city, and we all come from different places,” she said harshly not lifting her sight from the notes she was copying.

“Oh relax, it was a compliment! And I am looking for reassurance from you guys, yes,” he traced his finger down the blackboard, wiping some of the old equations away.

“Not very progressive of you, the Man of Progress. I can give you reassurance – Mel seems fine. You will be fine. You are a big boy, Jayce. But I do not need compliments, not because I’m from The Undercity, nor because I’m a woman,” Renly’s dead stare made Jayce look for help from Viktor. She gave him a pass and went back to scribbling.

“Vik, any help?”

“I’m afraid with this one I have to place myself in Renly’s corner. Even though of the two of us, I probably am the one that needs compliments,” Viktor also didn’t glance up from above his paperwork.

“No, you don’t,” Renly didn’t notice she now got the attention of both of her friends.

“You are, yourself, quite…” her mind was absent at this moment, so it was probably the other part of her that spoke the rest “…dreamy.” A second past, in which her brain caught up with her mouth and a deep shade of red bled into her cheeks and chest. She cleared her throat, stood up quickly and threw barely audible excuse me leaving the boys to exchange their looks and make their fun of her. Jayce snorted when Renly was out of hearing range and Viktor only mouthed a what was that? That was the second time, infinitely more mortifying than the first one.

“You put a lot of effort into assuring me of this, but you never once said if you are not interested in him. From where I’m standing, you are definitely not interested in me,” John’s voice broke her out of reminiscing.

Renly’s face went into stupid mode, twisting her features with disbelief. How dare he.

“Are you really saying what I’m hearing? Are you accusing me of infidelity based on your own insecurity? Have I truly given you any reason to believe I’m involved with anyone else but you? When do you think I would have time for that? Or do you actually not listen to me when I tell you about what I’m doing here and how much of my time and energy it consumes?” John’s expression grew more and more panicked as he saw how far he has overstepped.

“This is not… I didn’t…”

“What you didn’t do is think. You are the one who is not interested in me, John. You listen to me, but you do not register, nor remember anything I tell you. What do you want from me? Should I drop everything I’m doing just to dangle from your shoulder at the parties? Should I change the way I speak? Should I cut all my friends and relatives loose because they are from The Undercity? Would that make you feel secure enough?” she spat at him, becoming more and more angry with every sentence, self-winding regret fuelling her.

“Gods, this is not what I want, and you know it,” John brought his hand to the back of his neck, his voice gentler this time. “I just don’t feel like you want me around, is all,” he whispered, his words making Renly’s shoulders drop and her chest sink.

His fingers tapped an idle rhythm on the table, his eyes darting toward the adjoining lab room. It wasn’t the first time she’d caught him stealing glances at her colleagues’ workspaces, but she had always dismissed it as idle curiosity or stupid jealousy, first over Jayce, then over Viktor. Now, though, every stolen glance felt like a clue she should have picked up on sooner.

“I do,” she hesitated. “I did. I invited you to meet my people, come to my home, my work, my bed,” at which point, in the other room, Viktor—who was doing his absolute worst not to listen—squeezed a piece of chalk a little too hard, causing half of it to disintegrate into dust with a loud, whiny, bone-chilling sound that gave him goosebumps at the back of his neck. So, they slept together, great. Just great. It didn’t bother him at all, and yet… it bothered him greatly for some reason. Probably just because she will be a nightmare to be around for the next week or so.

Ridiculous, Viktor thought, though the word didn’t carry the weight he wanted it to. What did it matter who she invited into her bed? It certainly wasn’t his concern. The tightening in his chest wasn’t jealousy—it couldn’t be. No, it was irritation, that’s all. Irritation because she was so impulsive, so reckless, letting herself be distracted by someone so undeserving of her attention.

Why did it bother him? It wasn’t the first time she’d been entangled in some personal drama, and usually, he had the patience to tune it out. Yet here he was, bristling at every raised word, every pointed jab from John. It wasn’t his place to care. He had told himself years ago that people like Renly—bright, chaotic, and distractingly beautiful—were nothing but a complication. And yet, he found himself gripping his cane tighter every time John’s voice rose.

“Just realistically, I don’t think this is what you want. So, the obvious choice would be to put a pin in it until we both decide what we want,” her voice faltered. Breaking things off with John hadn’t been part of her plans for the day, and she could never have been emotionally prepared for this—especially not before breakfast. She wasn’t really breaking things off with him, either. Maybe a short, temporary break would do them good, cool things off. She fidgeted with her fingers under the table, becoming increasingly self-conscious about how much of the conversation Viktor had overheard.

“Really? So now it’s about me not respecting your Zaunian heritage, instead of you blowing me off at every opportunity?” at this point John knew that guilting her into giving it one more shot was probably his only chance. His father really wanted those hextech blueprints, and he would be very disappointed if John didn’t manage to get them. “Look, I don’t mind if we hang out here at all. But truth be told, you don’t really invite me here very often,” John said, his voice softer now, but there was an edge beneath it, like a scalpel disguised as a pen.

He had a way of twisting her words, making her feel like the selfish one for not prioritizing him more. It was a skill he wielded well, and for a moment, it almost worked. But the memory of all those little disappointments—the times he had brushed off her work as "just another experiment" or barely listened when she explained her progress—bubbled up like a pressure valve ready to burst. He did actually like her. She was his type – pretty, quirky, talented and driven. She could be a bit more elegant, but that would be polished with time. “We could make a schedule, meet here when nobody is around? Maybe you could even show me some hextech, hm?” with this, he knew he probably pushed a little bit too far, as her expression grew weary.

There it was again, that same calculated curiosity masked as casual conversation. At first, she had chalked it up to natural interest—what Piltover scholar wouldn’t want to know more about hextech? But now, with his eyes lingering too long on the blueprints and his questions steering the conversation in predictable directions, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was about more than idle fascination.

“I… you know I don’t work with hextech,” she shook her head while her brain was glueing the pieces together. “Why would you…,” and it hit her gently, prompted by the guilt painting her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend’s face. Unbelievable. When she thought about it longer, he did usually snoop around innocently while waiting for her to wrap up work. He would wander between the lab rooms, seemingly just killing time, but she saw him linger on the blueprints more than once. When she told him about her experiments, he always drove the discussion towards Viktor and Jayce’s work. How are they doing? So does this hextech actually work? And what do they want to use it for again? And he tried to pin it on her sleeping with Viktor. The audacity.

Renly wanted to believe the relationship had been real, that it hadn’t just been about her work or her connections. But as she stared at him now—his charming smile just a little too polished, his words just a little too well-placed—she realized how many times she had ignored her instincts. How often she had pushed aside the nagging thought that he didn’t see her, not really. Just the parts of her that were useful.

“So… you come here and make a scene about the note that you seemingly wrote for me and that I didn’t get. You accuse me of cheating on you with my colleague,” at which point Viktor scoffed to himself in the other room. The idea of Renly and him being a thing was laughable. She was too stubborn, too unpredictable, too... distracting. And yet, John’s misplaced jealousy had struck an uncomfortable chord. Absurd, Viktor reassured himself. If anything, she deserves better than someone like me. She deserves better than both of us.

“You propose a solution – let’s hang out here,” Renly exhaled, and her eyes rested on her hands with the realization of being used all this time hitting her hard. She didn’t think she cared that much. Frankly, having a normal secure relationship also with someone normal and secure was a hope she didn’t dare to entertain very often. It was mostly work and friends for her. So, when John came along, she just let it happen, as maybe, she thought, it was a good thing happening to her. Realizing there was no love in it, left her feeling numb.

In the other room, Viktor stopped pretending to work and simply sat on a stool, his hands and chin resting on his cane. That was new territory, a kind of danger they hadn’t anticipated. Also, he did feel angry for Renly – annoying as she was, she really didn’t deserve this. He wondered if he should intervene and kick John out, but the act would have to be based on his authority, which as a fellow Zaunian in John’s eyes he had none. Any show of force would need to be purely verbal—calculated and precise enough to leave the boy speechless and make him back down without a fight. While he was negotiating the terms of this heroic act with himself, he heard Renly’s voice echoing across the corridors: “I think it’s best you go.”

“Can we talk this through?” one last desperate attempt on John’s side as he covered Renly’s palm with his. She slid her hand from underneath his, threw a quick no over her shoulder and stepped through a heavy metal door that separated living area form the laboratory. She locked it behind her with a loud crank and immediately sank to hug her knees. Well, shit. This wasn’t part of her plan for today. And she didn’t want to cry in front of Viktor. If Jayce was here, he’d make it better, but he was with the beautiful Mel Medarda having breakfast in her quarters, which was a secret. Viktor would make fun of her—or worse, he’d get cross for endangering their life’s work. On one side of the door, her mean ex-boyfriend, on the other her mean niggling friend. She could just stay here.

“Do you need help getting up?” Viktor’s voice made her gasp and release the tears that were gathering under her eyelids, now streaming down her cheeks. And just to be clear, they were angry tears, not sad pathetic tears.

“Maybe,” Renly said, wiping her face with a sleeve, unable to bring herself to look him in the eye. She accepted his offered hand, which was about to pull her up. Unfortunately, the sudden movement sent a cramp shooting down Viktor’s calf, leaving Renly standing while he folded in half.

“Oh shit, Viktor I’m sorry, let me grab a stool!”

“Ah, no need. It’s fine. Just a cramp, it’ll stretch,” he panted, sliding down the corridor wall. She crouched down by him, question in her eyes about what to do.

“Well, where is it? I can… rub it out?” she heard herself saying and a darker shade of pink flushed her already enflamed cheeks. Viktor noticed. Her hands were faster than her brain this time and she already had his calf in her grasp, looking for the knot.

The warmth of her hands startled him, a flicker of something unwanted creeping into his thoughts. He shut it down immediately. She’s just helping. Don’t make it into something it isn’t. But the gentleness of her touch lingered longer than it should have, and when she looked up at him, her face flushed with concentration, he had to look away. Focus, Viktor. This means nothing.

“How did you get this so bad, Viktor?” she gasped at the state of her friend’s muscle, contracted like a rusty hinge. Her eyes full of concern, and some guilt. She made him uncomfortable in his own lab, because of some stupid drama. Stupid, yet it tore a hole in her heart.

Viktor remembered this look. He remembered the way she had looked at him back when they first met—not the awestruck gaze she reserved for Jayce, but something deeper, sharper. It had unnerved him. People always noticed the cane first; it was a fact he had come to accept. But she had looked past it—no, she had lingered on it, and he wasn’t sure whether it was curiosity, pity, or something else entirely. It didn’t matter now. He had decided long ago to keep her at a polite distance.

“Too much sitting down, ah!” he gasped when more pressure was applied “I tried to work through your… quarrel,” Viktor’s voice grew breathier, his eyebrows pinching together. Absent-mindedly, he placed his right hand on Renly’s shoulder and closed his eyes, letting his body relax into her touch. She was very careful, almost… affectionate.

“I guess this would fuel John’s theory,” he chuckled slightly, forgetting himself. Did he just admit that something was possible? Renly was too focused on getting rid of the knot to notice the awkward grunt following this sentence, and without much thought to it she said, “don’t be ridiculous.”

Something sunk in Victor’s chest hearing that. Of course, it was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. All of it. He was about to figure out how to run away, take his leg with him and tell her this is good enough, when she continued.

“I mean, we are not responsible for someone’s insecurities. I refuse to be. Also, as I presume you heard all of it, you will know that it was all a play,” she put so much attention into rubbing Viktor’s calf that the words just went out of her mouth. “Just to get his hands on hextech. So, I’m guessing this accusation was also fabricated to guilt me. Or he was obsessed with you. Which I understand… gotcha!” she exclaimed as the muscle relaxed under her fingers, and Viktor gave an involuntary moan, making both of them flush slightly.

The tension in his calf eased, but his chest felt impossibly tight. He was about to thank her—briefly, formally—when the look on her face stopped him. She was glowing, not with the self-satisfaction he often associated with Jayce, but with genuine care. It was infuriating. No, not infuriating—irrelevant. Why do you even notice these things? he scolded himself, rising awkwardly to his feet and turning away before the warmth in her eyes could undo him further.

“Forgive me, I… thank you,” was all he was able to say.

“That’s… it’s nothing, no worries.”

“I believe you know this, but in case you don’t—he’s a donkey, and you’re brilliant, yes?” Viktor tossed over his shoulder. “Ah, I’m not… thank you,” she said, standing in the corridor, confused, her face burning. What was that?

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #arcane #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #what was that

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stormz369 · 4 months ago

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☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 17

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: racist microagressions, boundary crossing, and people in positions of power being scum, cursing wc: 2.4k

A/N: chapter concept was suggested by @scared-reader 👻 so if you like it thank them for the inspiring ask in the comments! (and feel free to submit your own if you've got an idea for me, you never know what's going to set off the unhinged writing monster in my soul 😅 )

Chapter Selection

Damian was at my apartment again. He'd come over after school, and the look on his face suggested there was something weighing him down. I got him set up at the table to do his homework, knowing he wouldn't be ready to talk until he felt his responsibilities were complete, and ordered pizza. While he worked, I made my grandmother's brownies.

An hour later we were sitting on the floor in front of my tv, eating pizza and brownies, drinking soda, and playing mindless video games. Between rounds, Damian finally spoke up; “... There's an art show for our parents at my school next week … Father couldn't make it last year, something came up at work.”

I frowned a bit; “That sucks! ... Well, I'm sure he'll make it this year, yeah?”

“... Probably not. It's a busy time of year for him...”

“That's not fair…”

“It is what it is.” On the surface he sounded nonchalant about it, but after months of getting to know each other I was starting to catch the subtleties of his mannerisms and tones. And when he said ‘it is what it is' I heard, clear as day, the ache of unexpressed sorrow; the kind of sorrow that makes you feel selfish and cruel for caring at all over something so seemingly trivial.

“... Well, I know I'm not a parent, but I am an adult in your life who loves … your art. Think they'd let me come?”

“... You want to come?” he didn't even try to hide the surprise in his voice.

“Of course, if you're ok with it. … I remember how disappointing it was when my parents didn't come to my after school stuff. … Felt like I was the only kid in the room without an adult gushing over my work. I knew they were proud of me, they were just busy, but … I wanted my interests to be their priority for just a few hours. It hurt, seeing everyone else's adults make time for them when mine couldn't, and I don't want you to have to go through that too. So if you're comfortable with it I would be honored to get to go to your art show!”

Damian blinked a few times, looking down into his lap, and nodded. “... Ok. … Yeah, you … you can come. … It's Friday after school, from 4-6.” His voice came out a bit sharper than usual, like he was fighting to get the words out at all.

I smiled gently, pulling out my phone. “It's going right in my calendar. Will you already be there?” He nodded. “Perfect, … can Jace come too, or should I take the bus?”

Damian considered for a minute. “.... I suppose Todd can come. … It would be difficult to use the city bus to get to my school…”

I nodded. “Thanks kiddo.”

He opened his mouth, frowning slightly; “... I … why do you keep calling me that?”

I cringed slightly; “Sorry Damian, I keep forgetting you don't like it. I like to give people affectionate nicknames, it’s sort of second nature at this point I guess. I'll do better, I promise.”

“... No, it … it's ok, you don't have to stop. … I'm still not Dami though.”

I grinned, nodding. “You got it, kiddo.” Right, only Jon gets to call him Dami.

He nodded once, smiling a little.

Tears filled my eyes. The lump in my throat made it incredibly difficult to speak, but I had to say something; he was staring up at me with those big, guarded eyes, waiting for my response. “... Damian, it's-”

“Perfect…” Jason's arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me against his chest.

Damian's section of the art show was filled with portraits of his family and friends. And right in the center, on one of the biggest canvases I'd seen outside of a museum, was a painting of the three of us on my couch; me and Damian facing each other with Jason in the middle, his hand on my knees, just like the time they'd spent the night. The casual intimacy of our poses and easy smiles on our faces were like a dream for the future, laid bare in front of us.

It wasn't as easy as the painting made it look, not yet, but maybe someday it would be.

I nodded, agreeing with Jason; “it's beautiful~ you're so talented! … is … is that really how you see me?”

Damian hadn't made me smaller; I was still round and soft in his painting, but instead of feeling insecure the portrait made me feel beautiful. The delicate, sweeping brush strokes that made up my body exuded warmth and tenderness. I wasn't entirely sure if it was my love for him that he'd seen and captured in the paint, or his own affection for me, but it was there on the canvas for all to see.

He tilted his head; “... I don't understand? That is what you look like.”

“Yeah, but … Damian, in a culture that teaches women that being big is bad, making a fat girl feel beautiful in her fatness is like the artistic equivalent of finding Bigfoot - there are people who say they have, but who actually believes them?” I smiled softly, looking into his confused eyes; “you’ve made me feel beautiful, Damian. … Thank you.”

Jason hugged me tighter, kissing my shoulder; “... good job, demon brat~”

Damian flushed a bit, obviously pleased, and for a moment it looked like he was going to say something, but before he could, a tall woman came up behind him. She smiled warmly, looking at me; “ah, you must be the panther tamer!”

Damian's entire demeanor changed in an instant, closing in on himself. I frowned, looking up at her; “excuse me? … Who are you?”

The woman ruffled Damian's hair, either not noticing or not caring about his grimace or minuscule flinch as she made contact; “I’m Mrs. Webster, Damian's math teacher! It's a miracle; ever since you've come into his life, our little wild cat here has finally retracted his claws! Finally dropping some of those nasty habits of his. I don't know what you're doing with him, but keep up the good work!”

“... So you did just say what I thought you said. … Ok, bet.” I pushed Jason's arms off me and stepped forward until she stumbled back, making sure I ended up between her and Damian. “First of all; don't ever touch him again. Anyone with two brain cells can tell he doesn't like it.”

She stuttered, stepping back more; “ah! It was just a hair ruffle-”

“Don't. Ever. Touch him. Secondly, he is a person, he's not a wild animal that needs to be tamed. What on earth makes you think that's an appropriate thing to say about one of your students?”

“Hey now! I just meant that his behavior has gotten better, it's a compliment!”

I continued to walk toward her, slowly backing her into a corner. “Shut. The fuck. Up. You were not complimenting him; you were othering him. He is a child in a foreign country with foreign, often contradictory culture; since coming here he has had to relearn everything about how life works and what's expected of him, and he has had to do it using English, one of the most obnoxious languages to learn, and probably the fourth or even fifth one he knows. He is expected to gracefully fold himself into an American household, go to an American school, and follow American customs; nothing in his life would have prepared him for any of that, but he has done it all, and he's done it while living under intense media scrutiny because of his family name. And on top of all that, he's also making all these life changes during one of the hardest parts of a person's development. He works hard every single day to navigate this life, often doing things he hates because they're expected of him, all for your comfort. Is it so much to ask that his teachers treat him with some basic fucking respect?”

She frowned, trying to interrupt me; “I was just-”

“No, I'm talking, that means you shut your mouth. That boy, that brilliant, brave, kind young man was ripped from the life he knew, the good and the bad in it, sent away from his family and friends, to a supposed land of freedom and safety, and when he gets here he has to deal with mediocre minds like yours calling him an animal and praising the people who care about him for their ‘good work' with him? Abso-fucking-lutely not.

I have done no work here; it is not work to meet him where he's at. It is not work to love that boy in whatever ways he's ready to accept. And it is certainly not work to treat him with respect. That is the bare fucking minimum. It is a joy and a pleasure to get to know him; he is a remarkable young man. On his worst day he is a better person than you are on your best. He is compassionate, and patient, and he is a good kid. How fucking dare you talk about him like there's something wrong with him being just the way he is? Who the hell do you think you are? What kind of racist shit-”

“Hey now! I am not racist!”

The side of my fist made contact with the stone wall above her head. I took a deep breath, growling softly; “tell yourself whatever you need to. But you are going to keep a few things in mind going forward. Number one; anything you say or do to Damian will get back to me. Number two;” I smirked, chuckling darkly; “I am not afraid of jail time. So, for everyone's best interest; you will respect his boundaries, and you will think before you open your ignorant mouth. Because if I find out that you or anyone in this school has more inconsiderate, racist ass bullshit to say about my kid, I will be back. And from that day on, you will not know a moment of peace. Have I made myself clear, Mrs. Webster?”

She nodded quickly, eyes wide with fear, and I gave her the most condescending smirk I could before spinning on my heel to return to my boys. I only made it a few steps before Damian ran straight into me, arms wrapped tightly around my waist. His face buried into my chest, and his shoulders were shaking. I was almost pushed back by the force of him throwing himself at me, but I managed to stay standing. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, one hand gently cupping his head, the other stroking his back.

We stood like that for a long while. I wasn't going to pull away first; this was the first time I'd seen Damian initiate physical contact with anyone, and I was not about to give him any reason to believe it had to stop before he was ready. He could have as much as he wanted for as long as he wanted it.

I looked up at Jason over Damian's head; I thought he looked a bit proud, leaning against the wall to watch us. He gestured to me that he was heading out of the room but would be back soon and I nodded, just continuing to hold the shaking boy in my arms. I ran my fingers through his hair gently, hoping it would soothe him, “... I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, Damian…”

He shook his head, slowly releasing me. He didn't look up, but I could tell from the wet spot above my heart that he had been crying. “... Can we go home?”

“Yeah, kiddo. Let's get you home.”

“No, I mean … your home?”

“Oh, yeah, you can spend the night at mine. You can spend the whole weekend if you want. … I'll tell your dad for you, if you want?”

He nodded, slowly taking my hand. “... Can we stop at the manor, so I can get a few things and feed my pets?”

“Of course we can.” I smiled softly, gently squeezing his hand, and led him out of the auditorium to find Jason.

Jay met us at the front office. “You're being swapped into Mr. Desantis's math class, Damian.”

Damian nodded, staring at the floor in front of him. “... Thank you.”

Jason nodded, looking at our hands; “... We ready to go?”

“Yeah. We're gonna stop at the manor so Damian can get some stuff, and then we'll all head home.”

Jason nodded, letting us lead the way. He walked behind Damian and over a bit, so the youngest Wayne was flanked by us. Damian watched his feet as we made our way to the car, smiling just a little. “... Are you really going to return if I tell you my teachers are still saying those things about me?”

I stopped next to the car, falling to one knee in front of him, and gently squeezed Damian's hands. His vibrant green eyes slowly met mine, and I had to bite back the rage boiling in my chest; he looked so fragile, like he expected me to say ‘no, you don't deserve it, take care of yourself'. “... Damian, if anyone says or does anything to make you feel inferior, I want you to tell them that you are not required to accept their mistreatment, and walk away. Then you call me. If I don't pick up it'll be because I'm still asleep or at work, you text me and then you call Jay, he will come get me, and we will come for you. Ok?”

“... You'd leave work?”

“... I feel like that's not as impressive as the fact that I'm willing to lose sleep over this, but yes; you are more important than work. I can easily get another job, what I can't and won't do is make you face their shit alone.”

He nodded slowly. “... Father said I'm not supposed to misbehave at school … We have the public eye on us…”

Jay growled softly; “I am certain that he didn't mean for you to accept that kind of bullshit from inferior minds. And if he did, he can take it up with me. You do not have to accept their cruelty. Not ever.”

Damian looked up at Jason slowly, nodding. “... Really?”

“Really.”

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open): @jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa @whore-of-many-hot-men

#fanfic #fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc #jason todd #red hood x reader #jason todd x reader #first person pov #wayne family adventures #no y/n #damian wayne #multi chapter fic #Can I Get Your Number?

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acid-ixx · 8 months ago

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a/n: i keep lying about taking a break yall 😭 i'm already writing the dialogues for chapter 4 for a&a. the grind is real but i don't have a set date on publishing it yet.

here's some spoilers/outlines for the chapter:

not the full scene for the meeting in the batcave, slight dialogues only (unsure)

stinky the cat by @oh-nowo-i-got-uwu is canon and will appear probably in the last scene

your meeting with jason todd after a nasty run-in with crooks

a bit more lore about your past (specifically the incident during your elementary years where alfred is the one who had to save you)

^ scenario above is crucial for your dialogues with jason

diary entry or entries depending on its importance, they talk more about the family, or a perspective from the reader from the times they were ignored by barbara, steph, cass and even duke (as they were not mentioned in the prequel) (unsure)

a big fucking argument with jason that leads you to nearly telling him that you'd rather off yourself than ever see your family again after (unsure about whether or not i would implement tim or bruce hearing about it through the comms)

jason's perspective about your past with him, how it affected your childhood, and his spiral into yandere-ism

where you soon will run off to, possible perspective of a love interest (unsure bec some want a canon love interest, others don't)

the entire family ordering jason to at least take a picture of you in your apartment/to stalk you right after your argument (ft. dialogues from your siblings and a look into their obsession)

a look into the future with possibly meeting selina kyle (unsure, but stinky is a crucial character for here if it would be written out)

more breakdowns ft. stinky who provides you more comfort than your family ever would

IMPORTANT NOTES !

— these are what i have settled with so far, ik i said i want to rest but i realized we'll be flying off to the province soon and i don't want to neglect this series like how the reader was neglected LMAO. anyways for the unsure parts pls do send in asks or comment if u guys want them to happen or not, i need inputs for them 😭

— expect a new series called army dreamers where it takes in the approach of soft yandere! dc overall and it's a hurt/comfort (loop) fic just to balance out the angst but i'm not sure when i would be posting it but it's a remastered version of my supposedly other series w/ a chronically ill reader. if u guys are interested in a synopsis or a basic summary then pls do tell!

#🍨... yael's talking #🧁... yael's misc.#series: again & again #yandere dc #yandere batfam #yandere batboys #yandere batman #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x gn reader #yandere x male reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #platonic yandere

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prodbyton · 6 months ago

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જ⁀➴ dirty little secret chapter 4: library shenanigans

written wc. 1.3k warnings: sex mentioned

a sudden feeling of impending doom shot through antons body. he needed to leave, and fast. how (un)fortunate of you to walk into the library while he was also at the library. he kept his head low as he saw you walk by him, eyes never leaving you until you were completely out of his line of vision. there was no way he would be able to get any studying done while you were here at the same time as him.

you probably didn't even notice he was there, and its not like you two have ever interacted, so there was no reason for him to be so distracted. anton took a deep breath and let himself fall back into focusing on the sound of the soft music playing in his headphones and the contents on his laptop screen.

anton figured you didn’t know about him, but you did. in fact, you followed him to the library. you saw him walk in about 20 minutes ago, and you decided that you’d wait some time before walking into the library yourself. you also saw the way he tensed up the moment he saw you, but you played it off as if you didn’t see him and walked straight past him like you’ve done plenty of times before. you waited another 15 minutes, strolling through the endless isles of books and even looking through a few before you made your way back to the table that anton was sitting at.

you were behind him, so he didn't feel your presence until he heard your voice.

“is this seat taken?” you move closer to him, leaning on the chair that was next to him. he looks up at you and freezes, eyes going from your face to your hand that was on the chair, and anton felt like he forgot how to speak. he opened his mouth to say something, but he just stared dumbly at you before nodding and letting out a small no. of course antons brain and voice decide to betray him when the girl he’s liked for a month is finally acknowledging his presence.

you smiled to yourself as you sat down, watching as antons body got impossibly more tense than it already was. you kept a safe distance from him, not wanting to make him too nervous but close enough where you could feel his body heat.

anton felt like he couldn't move. he didn’t know if he should say something or continue to study, but it wasn't like he would be able to focus when you were this close to him. it was one thing for you to be in the same vicinity as him, but to be this close was killing him. especially when he knew that he shouldn't like you in the first place. he honestly thinks that knowing that you were off limits amplified his feelings even more, and maybe he should indulge in this moment before it's over and he’ll have to let go of his crush in order to not lose one of his best friends.

you were completely oblivious to the internal war anton was battling, thinking he was just some guy who had never felt the touch of a woman before. he was lucky you found him so attractive, because it was almost laughable to you how he has only said one word to you. after another minute of almost uncomfortable silence, you look at antons laptop to see him conveniently working on physics, the one class you both shared which made it a lot easier to let your plan to fall into place.

“wanna study for the physics exam together?” your tone was slightly teasing, but you were still serious in your offer. anton froze once again, his fist clenched before he realized he was taking a bit too long to reply to you.

“um, yeah i guess-” he spoke slowly, as if he was contemplating the answer as he was talking. but you didnt want to give him time to take his answer back, taking his shy yes as your green light to pull out your laptop from your bag.

“good, i swear i felt like i was going to fail this class if i didn't have anyone to study with”

“well, i dont think i’m that good,” anton let out a nervous chuckle, looking at the way you watched him with an amused look on your face. anton hasn't felt this nervous around a girl in so long, and he was honestly embarrassed that he was acting like he’s never spoken to a girl before in front of you of all people.

“i’m sure you’re doing better than me in this class, and it's always better to study with someone else, isn't it?” you lean closer into him, letting your hand rest on his thigh right before his knee, and you smile when you feel the muscle tense under your touch. antons eyes immediately look down to your hand, your hand that was touching him, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to check if he was dreaming.

anton once again wasn't able to speak, and all he could do was nod at your words while you kept your eyes on him.

it might actually be a nightmare, because when he opens his eyes to see your hand still on him, he feels his dick twitch in his pants. anton wasn't a virgin, and he would consider himself pretty experienced, but something about you made his body react the way he would when he was 15. his body language didn't go unnoticed by you, in fact it made the smile on your face grow wider.

you’re thinking it's going to be a lot easier to get into his pants than you thought. but right now, you’ll give him a little break. you take your hand off his leg and you can hear him let out a huff, which you can't tell if it’s out of relief or sadness.

putting your thoughts aside you really did need to study, and anton was pretty good at physics and you got a good amount of studying in. just when you felt like anton was finally feeling less tense around you, your phone started vibrating on the table. when he took a glance at your screen and saw the caller id, he was tensed up all over again. it was wonbin.

“hold on, my brothers calling me” you grab your phone, clicking on the green answer button before putting your phone up to your ear “hello? yeah… im at the library” fuck, please dont come to the library “okay, ill meet you over there” anton tries his best to not look like his heart was beating in his throat, looking across the library when you finally place your phone back on the table. “sorry, i have to go meet my brother at the music department. can i have your number? that way we can plan another study session. if you want to, of course”

“i do!” he responds a little too quickly and a little too enthusiastically, amd he clears his throat before speaking again and you have to hold back the laugh that wants to escape you at his excitement. “uh, i’m usually busy with swim practice until late at night, so i’ll let you know when i'm free” you nod at his words while you pack your things back into your bag, and anton watches you the entire time until you’re getting out of your seat.

“okay, ill text you later. see you around anton” you let your hand rest on his shoulder, dragging across his skin over his shirt before your fingers brush against his neck as you walk away. he shudders, and he continues to watch you walk away until you weren’t visible to him anymore. you giggled to yourself on your walk out, knowing you have anton exactly where you want him.

on the other hand anton was sitting with his head in his hands at the library table, wondering how the hell he was going to keep all of this a secret from wonbin and how the hell he was going to be able to be around you without feeling like he was going to explode.

m.list | prev | next

a/n: anton needs to get it together… stand tf up…

synopsis: living with your older brother had its perks, including easy access to his hot best friend

taglist is closed!!

🏷️- @selleprotection @gacktsa @cylovesmg @cherrytaesan @f4irynono @mokkaamo @givemeakith @taroddori @leebitofficial @the-swageyama-tobiyolo @g0niki @wonpoem @ningning1527 @streamluckybyriize @ant-onie @sunooslover @saranghoeforanton @serinebsblog @winuvs @onlyhyunjin @lynnimini @dearestjake @sasfransisco @nctjunie @angelpiixie @https-yeonjun @i03jae @nujeskz @astro-doll-the-star @lcvehee @ss1ren @imuziawi @snoopydooby @dutifullyannoyingfox @pink-lemonadefairy @yyangj3lly @urstrulynini @s9nwoo @bearbeom @totheseok

#♡ dirty little secret l.at #riize #riize x reader #riize scenarios #riize imagines #riize smau #riize anton x reader #lee anton x reader #lee anton scenarios #lee anton imagines #lee anton smau #anton x reader #anton scenarios #anton imagines #anton smau

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 2 months ago

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The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 3

Source for pic

Trouble 3

Word Count: 4959

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Dead Animals Mentioned; Reader in a terror-like state; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I should have chapter 4 already finished... but it's not completed yet... I haven't written almost anything this week! I know with the hollidays it will be hectic around here, but I have a few days where the office is going to be closed, so maybe I can write a bit more! Fingers crossed! Until then, please enjoy the calmness before the storm!

Masterlist

“Morning, Bug.” Shanks fills a mug of coffee for you and sets it down on the table near your plate of bacon and eggs, beside a bouquet of wildflowers.

“Morning, Dad. Thanks for the coffee, but aren't the flowers a bit too much? It's not my birthday…” You mumble between yawns.

“They're not from me…” Shanks smirks and nods at a note that's tucked in with the silk ribbon.

Brow rising, your fingers brush the petals of a deep crimson poppy before they catch the note between them. ‘Wild and beautiful, just like you.’

What? Who?

Despite the lovely gesture, you can't shake the slightest feeling of unease, it tugs at your stomach, leaving you queasy and suspicious.

“Who's it from?” Shanks tries to hide his curiosity but falls short when he reaches over your shoulder to glimpse the note.

“I have no idea.”

“Come on! Not even the slightest hint?” You shake your head while your mind conjures up images of a slightly not-safe-for-work dream you had with a certain green-haired cop, and you blush unintentionally.

Obviously. Shanks picks it up.

“You and Zoro seemed pretty cosy when I arrived yesterday…”

“It's not from him… I think.” You deflect the implications, not wanting to read too much into it yourself. “He’s not the type for grand gestures.”

Shanks hums in agreement while placing his coffee cup in the sink. “I see what you mean.” But then he places his hand on your shoulder, forcing you to look at his unbearable smirk. “Though do not underestimate a man in love.”

“Dad!” You feel your ears getting hot as you get up suddenly, looking for a vase to set the flowers on.

“I’m just saying.” He shrugs.

“He’s not… we… we’re just friends! I just got back.” You fuss with the flowers until they’re all spread beautifully on the vase and then set them at the centre of the table.

Shanks pouts and stares at you through the flowers, across from you. “Friends.” He air quotes with two fingers. “I’ve been there, Bug.”

“Agh! You’re impossible, Dad.”

But he might also be right. Because if last night was any indication, you and Zoro might be crossing the ‘just friends’ barrier soon.

And, honestly, there’s nothing wrong with that.

-*-

Shanks tells you to put a hold on your job hunt because he’ll be gone for about three weeks to a month for a horse show on an island in the South Blue and he’ll need you to take care of the animals and manage the farm chores.

So you spend the next week getting reacquainted with most of your father’s tasks in addition to the ones you had taken over ever since coming back.

The gifts keep coming.

Every morning there are chocolates, or flowers, or stuffed animals, little trinkets… The notes are rather simple, always evoking your beauty, but short and nondescript. You are no closer to knowing who they’re from now than you were on the first day you got them.

Shanks keeps hinting that it might be Zoro, but you doubt that very much. Besides the fact that he’s not one for romantic gestures, he would’ve said something about the gifts after six straight days.

And it’s not like you haven’t been chatting… not in person, since you’ve been busy at the farm and he’s been pulling double shifts to have the Saturday off again, but you text every day.

Short texts, to the point, much like Zoro is, but he always asks how you are and if you need anything.

And knowing he’s trying to take care of you leaves a very warm feeling in your chest. Especially because your clumsiness almost brought you to the clinic twice just this week. You have to thank whichever deity is watching over you because, even though you hurt yourself, it’s never serious enough to send you to the hospital.

“When are you leaving?” You ask Shanks while packing beverages, muffins and a cake you’ve baked for today’s chosen group activity.

“Let’s see, today’s Saturday, Beckman says his helper will arrive Monday morning to keep in charge of his farm, so sometime Monday afternoon, Bug. Why? Missing your Daddy already?”

You are.

“No! I just want to make sure you carry all of your medicine and that you have Dr. Law’s emergency contact with you, in case you need it–”

“I’m not going to drag Law all the way to the South Blue just because–”

“I called him and he said you should call anytime, so you’re going to call if you need him!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” Shanks has got to be the most stubborn man you’ve ever met.

“Where are you going?” He hisses when you swat his hand away as he tries to steal a salty bacon muffin you’re storing in a container. Then you relent and let him have it.

“Just one, Dad! We’re going on a picnic in the park.” You say with a grin. “Nami organised it, of course. We’re going to spend the day hanging out, playing games, and socializing.”

Shanks nods, never breaking your gaze, while trying to surreptitiously steal another muffin. This time you slap his hand with the lid of the container, and he yelps. His pout is quickly replaced by a smirk. “Is Officer Zoro going?”

You’re sure your nonchalant look can’t disguise the crimson blush tainting your cheeks, but you try to pay it no mind. “Yes. And Luffy, and Usopp, Chopper, Sanji–”

“I was going to tell you to be careful, but I’m sure Officer Zoro is going to keep you safe from all harm.” Shanks taunts and you seethe, hands flying to your hips.

“What are you, Dad, ten?” He guffaws as he successfully manages to distract you and steals another muffin before sprinting away from you and the kitchen.

“Be safe, Bug! Have fun!”

Seriously. How is this man a father?

-*-

Nami swings by your house with Vivi to pick you up for the picnic. You notice Robin’s absence in the car, and both girls giggle.

“Sabo’s picking Robin up. They’ll meet us there.” Vivi answers, and your mouth hangs open.

“Are they a thing?”

“Not yet, but it shouldn’t be long.” Nami laughs as she fixes her hair in the rearview mirror while waiting for the light to turn green. “Much like you and Zoro, I think.”

You choke on your own saliva, and it takes you a good minute to regain proper breathing functions, all while Nami and Vivi erupt into cackles and giggles.

“We’re just friends!” You say after you’ve caught your breath.

“Sure, honey. We all believe that.” Vivi turns on the front seat to pat your knee in a condescending manner while you blush.

“There’s so much heat coming off you two whenever you’re close that I don’t know how you still haven’t spontaneously combusted.” Nami quips, and you purse your lips. She’s not wrong there. “I mean, you’ve always sort of clicked, but now… daaaaamn!”

You sigh and bite your lip, trying to contain a giggle from erupting. “Who else is going to meet us there?” You ask, changing the subject and Nami shakes her head, knowing all too well what you’re doing, but not pressing on the matter.

-*-

It’s a beautiful day for a picnic, and the park is the perfect setting for the beginning of a wonderful midday. There are rows and rows of trees, shade galore, small cobblestone pathways for long walks, and even a small creek providing a soft lull alongside the soft giggles of children.

You and the girls are setting up rows of blankets on the grass, by the shade of the tall trees, when the group begins to arrive. You lift your head, hand sheltering your eyes from the sun, and scan the crowd. Luffy, Barto, Usopp, Kaya, and Chopper are approaching the treeline. They probably rode together.

A slight breeze dishevels your hair as your eyes linger behind, but there’s no green mane of hair in sight yet. An absent sigh leaves your lips before you spy Nami’s knowing smirk aimed your way.

She doesn’t say anything, but you blush anyway. Her unspoken words linger around you like a thick fog. You are eager to see Zoro. She knows it, you know it, hell, anyone who saw you two interact lately knows it.

But you vow to retain some semblance of dignity and pretend to fuss over the blankets and small folding chairs. You’re so absorbed in your task that you don’t even see him approach.

“Hey there, Troublemaker, making trouble?”

The smile that graces your lips is instant and unstoppable. You turn slightly and bite your lower lip when your eyes meet his. Why does every shirt he wears seem so tight against his muscles?

“Hardly! I’m just setting up chairs!” But as you deliver the words, the chair you were opening snaps shut, almost catching your fingers, and you yelp.

“You’re a menace.” His tone is both amused and resigned, almost as if he knew something of the kind would happen, was expecting it, even.

“It attacked me!” You defend yourself weakly, a giggle bubbling up in your chest because he is right. You are a menace.

Zoro ends up helping you set the chairs, and you don’t even try to stop him. Both because you’re very likely to end up either hurting yourself or breaking a chair, and because he keeps brushing his shoulders and hands with yours, and the touch is welcomed.

Robin and Sabo arrive with flushed cheeks - you can almost see Nami registering that fact for later probing - and soon after, Franky and Brook, two older men you still haven’t met but Luffy quickly introduces you to, saying they’re also part of the gang.

You see Sanji already setting up food on the blankets, and he greets you warmly. “Hi, Sanji. You rode with Mosshead?”

“Oi?” Zoro snaps, and you ignore him.

“I did, Madame, and it was the most unpleasant ride of my life. Please remind me not to do it again.”

You giggle when Zoro’s brows knit together, his hands clenched into fists. “Tch, shitty cook, next time you ride with me, it will be in my patrol car and I’ll be dragging you straight to prison.”

Sanji starts to fume, his pursed lips crumpling the cigarette dangling from his lips, and you grimace. “Hey, hey, boys, it was just a joke!”

Nami sighs as they butt heads and continue arguing. “Never mind that.” She tells you. “Any chance they get to get up close and personal, they take it. They have a weird bromance thing going on.” She raises her hands defensively in the air. “I swear, for a moment there I thought they were going to be a thing, but Sanji loves women too much and Zoro is a man with a goal-oriented mind. Even if it’s someone he set his sights on a lifetime ago.”

Your brow raises at her as she smirks that all-knowing smirk. But she leaves it at that and stands in the middle of the boys, dragging Sanji by the scruff of his dress shirt, telling him the girls are hungry, which promptly sets him back to the task of setting up the food.

“Shitty cook…” You hear Zoro mumble as he sets his hands in his pockets and kicks a blade of grass. It’s cute how flustered he gets. Then his eye sets on you and he frowns with a low grumble. “Oi, I didn’t forget you called me Mosshead.”

You set a hand on your heart, feigning repentance. “Oh, do forgive me, Mr. Mosshead. I forgot your title.”

“Trouble…” He lowers his tone in mock warning, and you smile, taking a step back, hands in a defensive stance.

“Lord Moss, Knight–” Your antics are cut short by a piercing yelp when Zoro jumps and tries to catch you, but somehow, you swerve away from his grasp and start to run, an unbridled laugh filling your lungs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I was just joking!”

“Repentance doesn’t dissolve the crime! Come here, Trouble!” He sprints, though you suspect he’s hardly even trying, and you cackle, running faster, the voices of the group fading into the distance.

“You’ll have to catch me first!” Maybe you should’ve measured your words, because as soon as he hears the challenging tone in your voice, he sprints faster, and you barely have time to breathe before his arm wraps around your waist and he swirls you in the air, making you scream and laugh before he pulls your back against his chest.

Heart pounding against your ribs, cheeks flushed from running and breath catching in your throat, you feel your legs shaking when Zoro’s warm breath tickles your neck. “Gotcha.” He whispers, and you notice he’s not even out of breath while you look like you ran a marathon.

The world dissolves into just this moment. The chirping of the birds and the rustling of the trees are nothing but background noise to the deafening pounding in your chest and the buzzing in your ears.

Turning your head slightly to the side, you catch Zoro’s eye fixed on you, a wild smirk on his lips. “What now, officer? Are you going to arrest me?”

Damn. That was supposed to come out playfully, not sultrily. Right?

“Depends.” Did his voice get huskier? “Are you going to resist arrest, Trouble?”

You feel your throat bobbing up and down at all the wild fantasies running through your mind. The way he uses that nickname manages to send shivers down your spine and heat straight into your core.

“Obviously.” You sound breathless, and it's a good thing you can blame that sorry state on the run, or you wouldn't know how to explain it.

“Figures.” He chuckles low, and you feel it rumbling in his chest. Then, with a swift movement, he turns you, bends his knees, and hoists you up, slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Wha–”

“Let's go.” Your flush deepens as you feel his strong hand against the back of your thighs, holding you in place. “The humiliation will teach you not to call me Mosshead.”

“Come on, Zo, I said I was sorry!” You whine, and he stiffens, his pace slowing for a beat, and you feel his shoulders shake slightly. Then he resumes his pace.

“I like that.”

You stop pounding your fists against his back and raise your brow. “What? Me apologizing?”

He grunts and keeps walking, the blanket and your laughing friends nearly in sight. “That nickname. Way better than Mosshead.”

Oh! Zo! Another small blush creeps into your cheeks, but before you can reply, Nami whistles. “What you got there, Zoro?”

You hear your friends laughing and bury your face in your hands, feeling mortified. “Someone’s been naughty.” Zoro replies with a smirk and an edge of amusement in his tone.

“Seriously?” You grumble, pushing against his back to try and wiggle out of his embrace, though it’s all for naught because he has an iron grip on your legs.

“Well, either set her down so we can all eat or take her to naughty jail and punish her. Away from our sight, please.”

“Nami!” You yell, exasperated, but Zoro merely chuckles, swerving right as if changing directions.

“Naughty jail it is, then.”

“No, no!” You whimper. “I’m sorry!” Chopper stares at both of you, not sure if you’re being serious, so you try to take advantage of him and stretch your hand. “Help me, Chopper!”

He reaches his hand out before Nami swats it away. “Let them be, Chopper. They need some alone time.”

You seethe at Nami, a pout on your lips. “Traitor.”

Zoro lets out a low chuckle before settling you down at the edge of the blanket. “Learned your lesson, Troublemaker?”

You steady yourself, hands against his chest, and a permanent blush tattooed on your cheeks. “Damn you. I’m never calling you Mosshead again. You won.”

“I see you’re a fast learner.” His smirk is impossibly smug. “Zo’s fine, though.” Then he turns his back on you, opens the small cooler, and takes out a beer, cracking it open with one hand and chugging at it without another look back at you.

And, damn it, if that doesn’t mess with your heart.

-*-

“Who wants another drink?” You ask and count the raised hands before getting up, heading towards the cooler to satiate your friends’ thirst. Zoro moves his hand before you reach it, and smooths the blanket before you can trip on its raised edge.

You smile at him, but he’s not even looking at you. His eye is shut, one arm behind his neck as he leans against the tree, though you know very well he’s attentive to everything. You pass the drinks around, then return to get your own.

“Watch your head.” Zoro mumbles, and you raise your brow but don’t heed his advice and, therefore, hit a low branch of the tree, releasing a string of curses while rubbing your forehead. “When are you going to start listening to me, Trouble?”

“When you stop sounding like a smug jerk.” You mouth, annoyed at his attentiveness and at how he seems to perceive danger before you even realise it’s there. He chuckles and you retrieve your drink, returning to your seat.

After a while of relaxing in the shade, Luffy drags everyone to a frisbee game. The boys are all down to play, but the girls just sit by a bench near the open space the boys chose to throw the frisbee and tackle each other.

You sit on the back of the bench, a case of water bottles by your feet because you know the boys will be thirsty soon. Vivi sits on the grass in front of Nami’s legs, and Robin and Kaya are on the bench.

After a small chit-chat about meaningless stuff, you decide to bring up something that’s been bothering you. “So I’ve been getting a lot of gifts lately…”

Four heads whip your way, and you sigh, already expecting that reaction and the bombardment of questions that follow. So you raise your hands, and they stop to let you continue. Though you decide to focus on the game in front of you instead of the way they’re all staring at you.

You especially focus on a very athletic green-haired man who constantly gazes up to where you are before focusing back on the game.

“It’s flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals… It started last weekend, after the party at Luffy’s. They have notes, but nothing personal. No name, no nothing… I don’t know who they’re from, and I don’t even know if I should be flattered or freaked out by them.”

“How do they make you feel?” Robin asks, and you shrug, not quite knowing how to answer that question.

“The first ones made me feel good. I thought they were from– I thought I might know who they were from. But since he didn’t say anything about it, I doubt they're from him. So now they just feel weird…”

“Honey, we all know you’re talking about Zoro.” Nami says in a very condescending manner, and all the girls agree.

You sigh and bury your face in your hands. You’re so obvious it hurts.

“Fine, yes. I thought they might’ve come from him, at first. But he’s not one for romantic gestures.”

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly.” Nami quipped back, a smirk tugging her lips as her eyes fell back on the game. Sure enough, Zoro’s eyes are back on the bench - on you, to be more specific. “I think it’s quite romantic the way he’s always checking to see if you’re safe. Keeping you away from trouble and making sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

A small blush creeps its way into your cheeks. It is quite romantic. “That’s just Zoro being Zoro. He’s a cop. He protects and serves.” You roll your eyes.

“Oh, I’m sure he would like to serve you.” Nami giggles and all the girls try to stifle their own laughs. “But you’re wrong about that. Sure, he’s always attentive to any kind of threats, but it’s different with you.”

“What do you mean?” You can’t stop the way your heart pounds maddeningly against your sternum.

“She means that Zoro doesn’t usually go out of his way to keep people from tripping on stuff or from bumping their head. And with you, he’s always extra careful.” Robin finishes with a small smile.

“Like the way he’s playing now, but keeps looking at you to see if you’re still in one piece. It’s like he’s expecting you to spontaneously combust or something.” Kaya adds with a giggle.

“It’s very endearing.” Vivi finishes, and your blush deepens, so you bury your head back into your hands, stifling a loud groan.

“But you’re still right.” Nami continues as if you’re not breaking down in front of them. “I don’t think he’s the one leaving the gifts…” She laughs suddenly. “But there’s one way to tell for sure.”

You raise your head from your hand cocoon to tell her to keep her mouth shut, but Zoro is already halfway to the bench and you squeak. “Nami…”

“Hey, Zoro!” She starts with a wave of her hand. You see Zoro raise his eyebrow at her, his long strides bringing him closer to the bench.

Shit.

He’s sweaty all over. Fat droplets of perspiration drop from his temples to his perfect jawline and neck, and you gulp, feeling hot and bothered. So, it comes as no surprise that when he reaches his hand to grab a bottle between your legs, you lose your balance and fall back on the bench.

Yelping, you expect to hit the floor with a dry thud, air escaping your lungs and sharp pain blinding you. Instead, you feel a strong hand wrap around your forearm and tug hard, then your face being squished against a muscular, sweaty chest.

Zoro saved you from an ugly fall. Again.

“Seriously, Trouble? Why?” His voice is gravelly and rough, but with an edge of exasperation lacing it. “I’m starting to feel like I have to be with you 24/7 or you’re going to end up in the hospital.”

Your breath is still leaving your lips in ragged gasps because of the slight scare of facing an inevitable fall, and your face is still pressed against Zoro’s chest. You feel the girls’ gaze on both of you and Zoro seems completely unfazed by it, while saying you’re embarrassed would be the understatement of the year.

So you disentangle yourself from the predicament that is Zoro’s muscles and laugh it off, a hand scratching the back of your neck. “Ah, thank you. I got… distracted.”

“By what?” He asks while taking a sip of water.

“Well, Zoro,” Nami begins, and he shifts his focus to her, “we were discussing who could be her secret admirer, and then you showed up. Curious.”

“Secret admirer?” Zoro’s gaze falls back on you, his brow scrunched.

“Ah, no. It’s nothing like that. It’s just–”

“She’s been getting gifts. Flowers, chocolates, love declarations…” Why is Nami exaggerating? Is she trying to fish for information or make Zoro jealous? “You wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with it, would you?”

He drinks the water in three long gulps before answering, his scowl now permanently etched on his lips. “Do I look like the kind of guy who would do that?”

You look down and bite your lower lip. You knew it wasn’t him, but maybe, secretly, there was still a little part of you that hoped he could be showering you with that kind of attention.

“Well, I just thought–” Nami begins, but she’s swiftly interrupted by Zoro, whose eyes can’t seem to leave your figure.

“When I want someone, I make it clear I’m interested. You’ll know.” He finishes drinking the water just as your eyes meet his, and the fire burning there scalds and melts. Was he telling you he’s interested? Was he saying he’s about to make a move?

With a smirk, he turns his back, grunts a gruff ‘try not to fall again, Trouble’, and gets back to the game, leaving you more confused than ever.

“Did he–” Nami starts.

“Nobody says anything. We’re going to act like nothing happened.” You mumble before getting up and chugging down an entire bottle of water yourself to try and calm your nerves.

It doesn’t work.

-*-

The frisbee game makes everyone tired - and hungry - so, after all the bellies are filled again, the crew is relaxing in the blanket, enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon and the lulling sounds of the park.

Chopper, Usopp, Luffy, and Barto are enjoying a card game. Franky seems interested, but he’s only overseeing and throwing advice that only seems to make Usopp lose the game. Robin has a book in her hands and Sabo’s head on her lap, his eyes closed with a blissful smile on his lips.

You have serious doubts that she's paying attention to the book, especially since she seems to be stuck on the same page for over ten minutes, but you don’t say anything. Kaya is braiding Vivi’s hair and Nami is snapping photos of the crew, taking little candid shots with her cellphone. Brook is gracing everyone with a nice, mellow song on his violin - he's a wonderful musician - and Zoro seems to be sleeping peacefully, leaning against the tree.

Everything seems peaceful, quiet, and idyllic.

But you can’t seem to shake the feeling of unease in the pit of your stomach. It’s like someone is watching you, but you can’t quite pinpoint who or where. It’s a prickling on your neck, something you’re already growing so used to that you start to think you should have this checked out by a doctor.

With a heavy sigh, you stand up, stretching your arms to justify that action. “I’ll be back soon.” You say softly to Nami, who’s closer to you and she nods. Then, you look around before taking a step. The park is one big open space - with the exception of some trees here and there - except for the dense treeline behind you.

So that’s where you’re headed.

-*-

Zoro senses you getting up and opens his eye slowly, following you with his gaze and scowling when you don’t see the tree root sticking out and stumble a little before steadying your pace.

You’re such a damn klutz.

And damn it, if he doesn’t want to be there to catch you and protect you from everything.

His heart constricts slightly at the thought, and he sighs softly. He thought absence had made him forget how he felt about you. He even had some ‘relationships’ while you were away. Wait… can he really call something that never went past three months a real relationship? He never truly bonded with those women. Never truly cared.

No one ever made him feel the way you did.

The way you do.

But time and distance did nothing but make him pine harder for you. When Nami told him casually that you were returning, he almost didn’t believe her. You didn’t even come back for any of the holidays or to say ‘hi’, let alone come back for good after experiencing life in the big city.

But you returned.

And then he thought he wouldn’t quite forgive you for having literally abandoned them. No text, no email, no letter, nothing. He would be salty, at least. Grumpy and upset, at most.

But he forgave you instantly.

One look at your dishevelled form, chasing a goddamned tire with dirt all over your clothes and face, and he was a lovestruck teenager again.

Fucking heart, what a useless organ.

All those thoughts forgotten, he simply reached out. And you reached back, almost like no time had passed between you, and you could basically continue your story where you left off.

And he was willing to try.

Though he didn’t want to rush too fast - damn Nami should just stop intruding and let you two figure things out yourselves. He’d get there. He almost kissed you already, so the feeling is mutual.

He’s got time.

Sitting up, he watches as you peek behind trees, a cautious demeanour to your posture making him raise his brow. What the hell are you doing?

“Just go to her, dumbass.”

“Shut up, Witch. Mind your own business.”

Nami sticks her tongue out at him and snaps a picture of his grouchy face before turning her phone towards you and snapping another candid shot.

“You look like a lost puppy in love. It’s cute, you know? The way you keep looking out for her.” Zoro feels his ears heat up and leans back again, trying to close his eye and return to a state of relaxation, but he can’t very well do that when you’re doing God-knows-what near the trees, looking creepily at everywhere and everything. “Just make sure you make your move soon… or maybe that secret admirer will one-up you and poof!” She makes an exploding gesture with her hand, and Zoro scowls at her.

“You’re insufferable.” He quips before getting up and dusting his jeans.

“Word of the day? How smart of you, Zoro.” She giggles when Zoro passes by her and messes up her hair with his hand, earning an indignant gasp from the orange-haired girl. “I just went to the salon, you brute!”

Zoro smirks at her reaction and starts pacing towards you, Nami’s antics behind him. Well… all except one…

‘Make sure you make your move soon…’

Perhaps he should. He doesn’t want to lose you before even having the chance to have you.

Tag list: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks

|Chapter 4|

#reader x roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x you #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x you #you x zoro #zoro x reader #modern day au #the meet-cute #reader insert

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yumeka-sxf · 10 months ago

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Thoughts on Spy x Family: Family Portrait

I finally got around to reading the SxF light novel, Family Portrait...and I mean "finally" because it's literally been sitting in my shelf since it was first released in English back in December of last year! I was distracted by Code White and the SxF video game which came out around the same time, but even long after that, I was having trouble getting motivated to read it. For some reason, experiencing SxF in novel format instead of in anime/manga just didn't appeal to me, plus the fact that it's not written by Endo himself (these weird preferences of mine are also why I'm not into reading fanfics either). Don't get me wrong, in general I love reading stories in prose form too, but for a series like SxF that already has such an established visual identity, it doesn't feel as "authentic" to me if that makes any sense. But I did want to read it eventually, since it is an official part of SxF media and Endo did the illustrations and does acknowledge the book (he wrote a nice afterword at the end). So I finally sat down and read it in sections over the course of this week! I'll share my brief thoughts on each of the contained stories:

Novel Mission 1

Since this was the first story in the book, it took me a while to get used to experiencing the world of SxF in novel form. There were some things I felt would have been better conveyed in anime/manga, for example, one of the very first gags about Yor misinterpreting Anya's nature class as some sort of hardcore outdoor survival trip. As I was reading that part I was like "I get the joke, but it would have been funnier if I actually saw these images and the characters' expressions with Endo's comedic illustrations." It was also a bit jarring to hear the characters thoughts and feelings from third-person narration, but I got used to it. As for the story itself, it was Damianya focused, something I'm not particularly into, but I don't mind it either. I liked the rare, soft Damian moments, and the thing with the squirrel eating Anya's peanut trail was funny. I also liked the scene at the beginning where Loid and Yor feed Bond together while Anya watches.

Novel Mission 2

Oddly, this was my favorite of the stories! Of all the characters, I think the author nailed Yuri's unhinged thoughts the best - as I was reading, I couldn't help but hear every cringe thought in his voice, which is a good sign of how well the author gets the character! I actually chuckled at a few parts too, both from his insane Yor-obsessed and anti-Loid musings, as well as from his banter with Anya. The police interrogation scene was great and would be even better if it ever gets animated! I also found it interesting that this story has the first instance where we find out what Yuri thinks about Bond (that he's fat and useless - rude!) Also his first time hearing about Franky apparently...makes we wonder if Endo will make him feel the same way if these things ever come up in the manga.

Novel Mission 3

I liked this story a lot too! I think it worked the best in novel format out of all of them, probably because it was more focused on drama and emotions than comedy. It's ironic that the two official SxF stories that feature the deeper side of Franky's character - this one and the omake chapter from volume 13 - are both not even part of the main canon! Alessa would have definitely accepted Franky's job as an informant, but he felt that someone like her should only be surrounded by "beautiful things." The poor man really needs to see that inner beauty matters too, and he has that! I also think he should have swallowed his pride and told Loid the real reason why he wanted the disguise...not that it would have changed the outcome. Poor Franky.

Novel Mission 4

This was a cute Forger-focused story, but like the first one, I felt it had parts that would have been more effective in anime/manga form, for example, "hair monster" Yor and whatever hideous painting Felix ended up making! But despite that, it was still funny and cute. Though I do think the author went a tad overboard with Yor's flustered antics...they just kept going and going, lol. Also, like the movie, we have another scenario of Loid getting flung into the air by Yor but landing gracefully on his feet (though this instance was much tamer since she wasn't drunk and only pushed him instead of hit him). Again, maybe I would have appreciated the humor in this story better if I saw it in anime/manga with Endo's hilarious designs and expressions, but for what it was, it was enjoyable enough.

Short Novel

This extra short story would be perfect as a reintroduction story for a future anime season...maybe one day!

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Overall, the Family Portrait novel is a nice addition to the Spy x Family universe. Even though I feel the humor in the series is most effective in illustrated form, it's still nice to have more stories in the canon, especially ones that show new sides to the characters, like the Franky and Yuri stories. Like the movie, it's debatable if this novel should be considered true canon or not, but personally, I don't find anything in it that contradicts canon, at least not yet. So yeah, definitely check out the novel if you haven't already! 😁

#spy x family #sxf #spy family #spyxfamily #loid forger #yor forger #anya forger #bond forger #damian desmond #yuri briar #franky franklin #sxf family portrait #sxf novel

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winchesterwild78 · 4 months ago

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An Unexpected Friendship

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Reader’s daughter, Jensen’s children

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Domestic Violence, Language, mention of death

A/N: This is a short story written in collaboration with @cheekygirl2309. In this story the reader is a widow who has a 4 year old daughter. She’s dating a very abusive man, so she enrolls her daughter in preschool to keep her as shielded as possible. At the preschool we find her daughter has made friends with a set of twins. At pick up one day the reader realizes the parent of her daughter’s best friend is none other than Jensen Ackles. A friendship forms, and decisions are made after a particularly nasty fight with her boyfriend.

No disrespect to Jensen or his family. This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life.

*This chapter sets up the story-it’s a bit long due to this.*

Minors DNI 18+

You sat on the side of your bed rubbing your arm, trying to get the sting of the pain to go away. Another night, another argument with Robert, your boyfriend. You’d only been dating about 9 months, and at first everything seemed perfect. You felt the sting of the tears fill your eyes

Knowing how much he hated when you cried, you fought to keep them at bay. Crying after he hit you only made things worse. You were thankful, however, your four year old daughter, Jazmyne was already in bed.

You did your best to keep her shielded from the violence that plagued your life now. Your late husband, Josh, was a kind, gentle man. He wouldn’t lift a hand to you and was an amazing father to Jazmyne. Josh was so gentle that if a spider got into the house he’d scoop it up and carry it outside. He died unexpectedly after a workplace accident. Your heart was irrevocably broken when the two of you lost him.

Now Robert was in your lives. You met him at a house party and he swept you off your feet. The first time he hit you, the two of you were arguing and things got heated quickly. Then he slapped you across your face, drawing blood from your mouth. You made him leave and told him it was over.

For almost a month you kept him at bay. Then loneliness, apologies and manipulation took over. You took him back. Things were fine, and then a switch flipped again.

The latest fight was over dinner. You’d come home late from work and he was mad because dinner was late. After picking Jazmyne up at your friend’s house you decided to stop and grab a pizza. When you got home, he was there and became angry when he saw the pizza box.

“What the fuck is that?” He growled as he motioned to the box. “It’s dinner, and I’ve asked you not to use that language in front of my daughter.” He stepped closer to you and grabbed your chin hard, “I’ll talk however the fuck I want you stupid bitch!” You jerked your face away and set the box down.

Looking at Jazmyne you spoke softly, “Go play while mommy gets your dinner ready, okay?” Your beautiful little girl nodded and bounded down the hall to her room.

You grabbed a plate for your toddler and started to cut up her slice of pizza. “You’re a lazy fucking whore, you know that. What kind of mother doesn’t cook for her family?” You ignored him and kept getting Jazmyne’s food ready.

He grabbed your arm hard, pulling you around to face him and causing you to drop her plate. “Don’t you fucking ignore me. I asked you a question.” “Robert, I’m not in the mood to fight with you. I think you should leave. I’m exhausted and I need to get Jazzy ready for dinner and bed. I don’t have time to deal with this.”

You tried to pull your arm out of his grip, but it was too tight. “Let me the fuck go!” You yelled.

Robert got in your face, his eyes dark with anger, “I’ll let you go when I feel like it. You belong to ME!” He let go of you, grabbed some food and went to sit in the living room. You walked towards Jazmyne’s room and found her crying.

You ran in and got on the floor, “Oh baby, what’s wrong?” “He hurt mommy.” She softly said. You scooped her up and held her tight, knowing you needed to make a change before it was too late. “I’m okay baby girl, I promise. Let’s go eat our pizza and we can play with your new bath paint tonight.”

She smiled wide and nodded. You took her into the kitchen, put her at the table and got her a piece of pizza. You cut her slice and grabbed you one too. You noticed she kept looking towards Robert and you could see the fear in her eyes. You knew exactly what you needed to do.

After dinner, you got Jazmyne in the tub and she played with her new bath paint. She talked about her new friends at preschool and how much fun they were. You had recently put her in preschool to help her socialize and to shield her from the crap between you and Robert.

“So, Jazzy, what are their names?” You asked her as she excitedly talked about her new friends. “Arrow and Zeppy, they are twins, well his name is Zeppelin, but everyone calls him Zeppy.” She said with a smile on her face. You almost choked on air. There was no way these children are the children of the man you’d pined after, Jensen Ackles. You’d been a fan of his for years and watched everything he was in, at least twice. You were heartbroken when you heard his wife died during childbirth. She was giving birth to the twins, and there were complications.

Jensen disappeared from public life after the death of his wife. He still acted on Supernatural, but his appearances in public and at conventions stopped. It wasn’t until recently he had started to make sporadic appearances and going back to conventions.

After her bath you got her ready and into bed. Walking into the living room you saw Robert sitting on the couch. “We need to talk.” You said as you walked in. He looked up from his phone and his jaw clenched.

“I’m going to record this conversation for my protection and yours. I don’t want any confusion as to what is being said tonight.” You told him as you hit record on your phone and he scoffed.

“I deserve better than to be with someone who puts their hands on me. My priority is my daughter, and she always will be. I don’t want her to grow up thinking it’s okay to be hit or grabbed by someone who says they love her. I want you to leave, and not come back. I’m not doing this anymore. We aren’t good for each other, so this, (you motioned between the two of you), is over.”

Robert sat silently. The eerie silence sent a chill through your body. He sat up and started to speak low, “If that’s what you think, then I guess there isn’t anything I can do about it.” “That’s what I’m saying. I need your key.” He pulled out his keys and took the house key off his ring. Then he stood up, grabbed his stuff and left.

You let out the breath you were holding and quickly went and locked up the house. You called your best friend and told her what happened. She was glad you finally kicked him out. “Do you need me to come over tonight?” She asked. “No, he left his key, so I’m sure it’s going to be okay.” You reassured her. “Okay, well I’m proud of you, if you need me, let me know.” “I will, I love you girl.” “Love you too, bye.”

Hanging up you grabbed your pajamas and went to take a shower. Climbing in you felt the pain from Robert’s abuse. You cried. Your tears mixing with the water that cascaded from the showerhead.

After your shower you climbed into bed and scrolled on your phone. You found yourself on Jensen’s Instagram page, smiling at the pictures he’d posted of himself and his children. A new post popped up and it made your heart flutter. It was a picture of his twins and he captioned it with “These two are rocking their first year of preschool. Zeppy has a new little friend he talks about all the time. He said she’s a princess because her name is Jasmine.” Your eyes went wide, was he talking about your Jazzy? You smiled and put your phone down, falling asleep.

The next morning you got Jazzy up and ready for school. On the drive there she was really quiet. “Jazzy, baby, what’s wrong?” You looked in the mirror and met your daughter’s big green eyes. They were full of sadness and fear, “I’m scared mommy.” A frown formed on your face, “What are you scared of baby?” “Robert. He hurt you.” “Oh baby, I’m okay. I made him leave. He won’t be back. It’s just you and me now.” A small smile formed on her face.

Getting her out of her seat at the school the two of you walked hand in hand towards the entrance. Your daughter squealed in excitement and dropped your hand, taking off towards two children. “Arrow, Zeppy!” She squealed. The two children turned around and smiled, running towards her.

You continued walking and made it to the very excited children. Hugs were exchanged and giggles filled the air. Then there he was, Jensen Ackles. He chuckled as he walked up to you and the three children, “Oh this must be the little princess.” You smiled as your eyes met his. He extended his hand, “Hello, I’m Jensen, and these two are mine, Arrow and Zeppelin.” You extended your hand to shake his hand, not realizing there was a bruise on your arm or on the side of your face. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Y/N and this little one is Jazmyn. I’ve heard so much about your children from her. They are really sweet to her.”

You noticed his eyes kept scanning you and that’s when you noticed the bruise. You pulled your arm back and felt the embarrassment fill your cheeks. Zeppelin spoke up, breaking the silence between you and Jensen, “Daddy, can we have a playdate after school? Pleeease.” The three children were looking up at Jensen and you. “Well, how about we plan something for the weekend, that way you three can have longer to play, I mean if it’s okay with you.” He looked at you. “Oh absolutely. Besides, I have to work late today and Jazzy will be at her Auntie Nichole’s house.”

Jensen grabbed the twins’ hands and started to walk towards the door, “We probably should get them inside.” He gestured. “Yeah, don’t want them to be late.”

After saying your goodbyes, you and Jensen walked towards the parking lot together. “Hey, Y/N. Let me give you my number so we can work out the details of the playdate, and if um, you need anything, please call me.” You offered him a soft smile, “That would be great, Jensen, thank you. I know Jazzy will love it.”

The two of you said your goodbyes, and as you started to walk away Jensen stopped and called your name. “Hey, Y/N.” He stepped closer to you, “He’s an asshole and you don’t deserve that. I promise we aren’t all like that. If you need anything, please call me.” “Thank you, Jensen. For everything, and just so you know I made him leave and broke up with him.” Jensen smiled and lightly touched your arm, “good”.

Hours later your shift was done. Nichole had picked Jazzy up from school and she was going to bring her home later. You pulled into your driveway and walked in your house. Putting your stuff down you decided you’d take a quick shower before Jazmyne got home.

Getting out of the shower and getting dressed you walked into the living room and turned on the television. Just as you sat down the doorbell rang. You thought it was Nichole with Jazmyne, but you were wrong. Standing in front of you with eyes full of rage was Robert.

“Robert, what the hell are you doing here?” Before you could get an answer he came into the house and punched you across the face. You fell to the ground and he started kicking you and punching you.

You put your hands up to defend yourself and screamed and cried for help and for him to stop. After what felt like hours, he finally left. You laid on the floor, bleeding and in so much pain. You found the strength to grab your phone and pushed the call button.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end said. You were in and out of consciousness. You started to speak weakly, “Help me…” “Y/N!? Is that you? It was Jensen. You accidentally called Jensen. “Y/N! Answer me, what’s wrong?”

All you could get out was “Jazzy.” Before you passed out. Jensen hung up, called the headmaster at the preschool and told them what happened. They told Jensen they would call 911, he asked for your address but they wouldn’t give it to him.

Panic filled his body. He called Jared and had him and Gen watch the kids. He was heading to the closest hospital to wait to see if you were brought there.

The ambulance arrived and Jensen saw you. He tried to get the nurse to tell him what was going on with you, but she wouldn’t give him any information. He paced the waiting room floor and tried everything he could think of to get someone to give him information.

About 30 minutes later he saw Jazmyne come in with a woman who was close to your age. Jazmyne immediately saw Jensen and ran to him. Nichole tried to grab her, but she was too quick.

Jensen scooped her up and she threw her arms around his neck, “Hey Jazzy, are you okay? You’re not hurt are you?” Nichole stepped closer, “Oh hi, um how do you know Y/N and Jazzy?” “Hi, I’m Jensen. Jazzy goes to daycare with my twins, and that’s how I know Y/N. She and I just met today, but I’ve known Jazzy.”

Nichole stretched her hand out, “Hi, I’m Nichole, Y/N’s best friend. Do you know what happened?”

“Not really. She called me and all she said was “Help me, then she said Jazzy’s name. I didn’t know her address so I called the headmaster and told her what happened. I can only assume this was her ex’s doing. She told me she kicked him out.” “She did, but I think he came back over tonight.”

Just then the doctor came out. “I’m here for the family of Ms Y/L/N” Jensen and Nichole stepped forward. “Hi, we’re her family. How is she?” “I’m Dr Fitzpatrick and I’ve been treating her. She has multiple lacerations, some broken ribs, a broken nose and orbital bone, and lots of bruising. She was beat up so badly we have to put her in a medically induced coma to help her body heal. She will be in it for a few days.”

Jensen and Nichole gasped, “When can we see her?” Nichole asked softly. “You can see her one at a time, but I don’t recommend you take her in there.” The doctor nodded. They both nodded, “Nichole, you go and I’ll stay with Jazzy.”

Nichole nodded, thanked Jensen and walked to your room. About 30 minutes later Nichole was walking back into the waiting room with red, puffy eyes.

Jensen walked up to her and gave her a hug. She sobbed into his chest. “Jensen, she looks so bad. How could anyone ever do something like that to her. She’s such an amazing person.” Jensen just held her tight. “Do you mind if I go see her?” He asked softly. She shook her head.

As Jensen walked down the hallway his heart rate sped up. When he saw you laying in your bed, bloodied, bruised and broken his heart ached and anger filled his body. Robert had to pay. He sat beside your side and held your hand, “Hey Y/N, Jazzy is safe. We need you to get better. I can’t plan that playdate by myself.” He chuckled as he held you tight.

Before he left the room, he leaned over and kissed your forehead. He wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he felt the need to do it, “You’re safe Y/N, and so is Jazzy. I promise you both will be safe.”

Jensen walked back towards Nichole and Jazzy. He gave Nichole his number and told her if she needed anything, or any help with Jazzy to give him a call or send him a text. She nodded and said thank you.

Jazzy clung tightly to his neck, and Nichole had to pry him off. Jensen stepped closer, “hey, Jazzy, maybe Auntie Nichole can bring you over tomorrow afternoon so you can play with the Arrow and Zeppy, would you like that? She nodded wildly, “Okay, see you tomorrow then.”

Then Jensen was gone. A few hours later, when she was sure you were out of the woods, she and Jazzy left for the night.

She was worried about you, but Jensen, oh Jensen was worried about you, Jazzy, and wanted to hurt Robert for hurting you. He couldn’t shake the feeling, but drove home.

You were left laying in the bed, listening to the sounds of conversations and unable to react or speak to them. You heard Jensen, felt Jensen, and above all you felt his emotion behind his voice. That was something you were thankful to have heard and felt, at least that and Jazzy gave you something worth fighting for.

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#hes gorgeous #so damn sexy #jensen ackles #jackles #jensen ackles x plus size reader #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles smut

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mybutcheredtongue · 6 months ago

Text

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

post azkaban sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (see full series list here)

1994

I've just been attacked by dementors and I might be expelled from Hogwarts. I want to know what's going on and when I'm going to get out of here.

That's what Harry had written in his note to you and Sirius — and also in notes to Ron and Hermione too.

The pair of you had been livid, of course — "this is what happens when he's left alone with those people!" — and three days later, you stand on the doorstep to Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging with a group of other Order members.

"Alohomora," you say, pushing the door open. You make your way into the hallway, all the lights turned off.

Tonks lets out a whistle at a stack of antique decorative plates on a table beside her. "Wow, look at these plates, they're proper fancy! Just look — "

She immediately drops it with a crash.

"Oops," she says, repairing it with a wave of her wand.

You make your way up the stairs, unlocking the door with your wand while the others wait at the bottom of the stairs. Harry slowly emerges from the room, poking his head out the door, wand clutched tightly in his hand.

"Lower your wand, boy, before you take someone's eye out," Moody growls.

Harry doesn't lower his wand. "Professor Moody?"

"I don't know so much about 'Professor'. Never got round to much teaching, did I? Get down here, we want to see you properly."

Harry still doesn't move, clearly wary of your party.

"It's alright, Harry," you say gently. "We've come to take you away."

"P-professor?" he says disbelievingly. "Is that you?"

"Why are we all standing in the dark?" Tonks says. "Lumos."

The tip of Tonks's wand flares, illuminating the hall with light. You beam at the sight of your godson, already looking older than when you last seen him.

You stride forward and wrap him in a tight hug, beaming. "Good to see you, Harry."

"Yeah, you too..."

"Ooh, he looks just like I thought he would," Tonks says excitedly. "Wotcher, Harry!"

"Yeah, I see what you mean, Remus," Kingsley Shacklebolt says from the back. "He looks exactly like James."

"Except the eyes," Dedalus Diggle wheezes. "Lily's eyes."

Moody squints suspiciously at Harry, his magical eye pointed towards him searchingly. "Are you quite sure it's him? It'd be a nice lookout if we bring back some Death Eater personating him. We ought to ask him something only the real Potter would know. Unless anyone brought any Veritaserum?"

"Harry, what form does your patronus take?" Remus asks.

"A stag," Harry answers nervously.

"That's him, Mad-Eye."

Harry descends the stairs, still looking a bit confused, stowing his wand in the back pocket of his jeans as he goes.

"Don't put your wand there, boy!" Moody roars immediately. "What if it ignited? Better wizards than you have lost a buttock, you know!"

"Who do you know that's lost a buttock?" Tonks asks curiously

"Never you mind, just keep your wand out of your back pocket!" he barks, hobbling off to the kitchen. "Elementary wand safety, nobody bothers about it anymore..."

Wow, how many times did you hear that during your training?

"And I saw that," Moody adds irritably as you roll your eyes at the ceiling.

Remus holds out his hand and shakes Harry's. "How are you?"

"Fine..." Harry replies, looking as though he's still in shock at what's going on.

"I'm — you're really lucky the Dursleys are out..." he mumbles.

"Lucky, ha!" Tonks exclaims, grinning. "It was me that lured them out of the way. Sent a letter by Muggle post telling they'd been short-listed for the All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition. They're heading off to the prize-giving right now...or so they think."

She winks at you and you smile back, remembering the side-splitting laughter that had infected you as the two of you cooked up that idea a few nights previous.

"We are leaving, aren't we?" Harry asks. "Soon?"

"Almost at once," Remus says. "We're just waiting for the all-clear."

"Where are we going? The Burrow?" Harry asks hopefully.

You shake your head. "No, not the Burrow." You follow Moody into the kitchen, the group of Order members walking in after you. "Too risky. We're set up headquarters somewhere else, somewhere undetectable."

Moody sits at the kitchen table swigging from a hip flask, taking in the many electrical appliances in the Dursleys' kitchen.

"This is Alastor Moody, Harry," Remus tells, pointing toward him.

"Yeah, I know."

"And this is Nymphadora — "

"Don't call me Nymphadora, Remus," Tonks says with a shudder. "It's Tonks."

" — Nymphadora Tonks, who prefers to be known by her surname only," Remus finishes, glancing at Tonks.

She folds her arms. "So would you if your fool of a mother called you Nymphadora."

"And this is Kingsley Shacklebolt," Remus continues. "Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle — "

"We've met before," squeaks Diggle, dropping his top hat excitedly.

" — Emmeline Vance — Sturgis Podmore — and Hestia Jones."

Harry nods awkwardly at each of them in turn.

"A surprising number of people volunteered to come get you," Remus says, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Yeah, well, the more the better," Moody says darkly. "We're your guard, Potter."

"We're just waiting for the signal to tell us it's safe to set off," Remus explains, glancing out the kitchen window. "We've got about fifteen minutes."

"Very clean, aren't they, these Muggles?" Tonks says as she looks around the kitchen with heat interest. "My dad's Muggle-born and he's a right old slob. I suppose it varies, just like with wizards?"

"Uh — yeah," says Harry, turning to you. "What's going on, I haven't heard anything from anyone, what's Vol — ?"

Several of the witches and wizards make odd hissing noises and Moody growls, "Shut up!"

"What?"

"We're not discussing anything here, it's too risky," Moody explains, looking around him warily with his magical eye.

"We can talk about it once we're back at headquarters," you say.

"How're we getting there?"

"Brooms," Remus replies. "Only way. You're too young to apparate, they'll be watching the Floo Network, and it's more than our life's worth to set up an unauthorised Portkey."

"She says you're a good flier," Kingsley says, gesturing to you.

"He's excellent," you reply proudly, smiling at Harry.

Remus glances down at his watch. "You better go and get packed, Harry, we want to be ready to go when the signal comes."

"I'll come and help you," Tonks says brightly, following Harry upstairs to his bedroom.

Remus pulls an envelope and piece of parchment out of his pocket, bending over the kitchen table to start scribbling something down. You walk around the room, looking at different photos of the Dursleys.

Baby Dudley, with a proud Petunia and Vernon standing over him; Petunia and Vernon on their wedding day; several more photos of Dudley growing up — there's an obvious absence of Harry. If a stranger were to walk into this room without knowing anything about the Dursleys beforehand, they would never know Harry even exists.

"What a strange device!" Podmore exclaims, curiously opening and closing the kitchen microwave while Kingsley stands behind him. He waves you over. "What does it do?"

Because of your Muggle father, you are often questioned on Muggle items and customs — though usually by Arthur Weasley.

"It cooks food," you reply. "It's called a microwave."

"A microwave..." Kingsley repeats thoughtfully, opening the door and peering inside with immense interest.

Nearby, Hestia laughs at a potato peeler that she came across in one of the drawers. You give her a look, confused as to what could possibly be so humourous about a potato peeler, but she just continues to snicker and giggle as she turns it over in her hands.

"Excellent," Remus says when Harry and Tonks return, Harry's trunk bobbing along in the air behind them. "We've got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we're ready. Harry, I've left a note telling your aunt and uncle not to worry — "

"They won't," says Harry.

"That you're safe — "

"That'll just depress them."

" — and you'll see them next summer."

"Do I have to?"

Remus smiles but doesn't answer.

"Come here, boy," Moody says gruffly, beckoning Harry towards him with his wand. "I need to Disillusion you."

Harry's brows knit nervously. "You need to what?"

"Disillusionment Charm," Moody replies, raising his wand. "Lupin says you've got an Invisibility Cloak, but it won't stay on while we're flying; this'll disguise you better. Here you go — "

He raps Harry hard on the top of his head and Harry's body takes on the exact colour and texture of the kitchen unit behind him, like some sort of human chameleon.

"Nice one, Mad-Eye," Tonks says appreciatively, and Harry looks down in surprise, spinning in place as he surveys his new look.

"Come on," Moody says, moving towards the back door and unlocking it with his wand.

You all step out onto the Dursleys' impeccably well-kept lawn. It looks practically untouched — a contender for the All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition indeed.

"Clear night," Moody grumbles, peering up into the dark sky above. "Could've done with a bit more cloud cover. Right, you," he barks at Harry, pointing his finger at him, "we're going to be flying in close formation. Tonks'll be right in front of you. The rest'll be circling us. We don't break ranks for anything, got me? If one of us is killed — "

"Is that likely?" Harry asks apprehensively, but Moody ignores him. When he turns his worried eyes to yours you shake your head, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at Moody's grimness.

" — the others keep flying, don't stop, don't break ranks. If they take out all of us and you survive, Harry, the rear guard are standing by to take over; keep flying east and they'll join you."

"Stop being so cheerful, Mad-Eye, he'll think we're not taking this seriously," says Tonks as she straps Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage into a harness hanging from her broom.

"I'm just telling the boy the plan," Moody growls. "Our job's to deliver him safely to headquarters and if we die in the attempt — "

"No one's going to die," you say calmly, receiving a doubtful grumble from Moody in the process.

"Mount your brooms, that's the first signal!" Remus says sharply, pointing into the sky at the shower of bright red sparks flaring high above you.

You swing your leg over your broom — your dusty old Cleansweep Seven that you've had since you were fifteen and that has seen more of the inside of your garden shed than the open air — and wrap your hands around the flaking handle. You're a pretty average flier — nothing compared to James, of course...but who could ever compare to him?

"Second signal, let's go!" Remus says loudly, as this time green sparks explode into the air far above you.

You kick off hard from the ground. The cool night air rushes into you as you rise higher into the air, the houses and buildings of Little Whinging becoming smaller and smaller as your group ascends. Looking up, the sky is vast and clear, revealing the billions of gleaming stars twinkling above. You can't help the small rush of giddiness that sparks in you at the sight of it.

"Hard left, hard left, there's a Muggle looking up!" Moody shouts over the wind, and your circling group follows Tonks as she swerves, Harry close behind. "We need more height...give it another quarter of a mile!"

"Bear southeast and keep climbing, there's some low cloud ahead we can lose ourselves in!" calls Moody.

"We're not going through clouds!" Tonks shouts angrily. "We'll get soaked, Mad-Eye!"

You're glad to hear this, your fingers turning numb around the handle of your broom in the chill.

You alter your course every now and then according to Moody's instructions, you and the rest of the guard circling Harry and Tonks as you move.

"We ought to double back for a bit, to make sure we're not being followed!" Moody shouts.

"Don't be mad! We're nearly there now!" You yell, recognising the streets hurtling past below. "If we keep going off course, we won't have to worry about being followed because Harry'll have died from hypothermia by then!"

"Time to start the descent!" Remus orders. "Follow Tonks, Harry!"

You dive, flying lower and lower until you touch down on a quiet street with several less-than-welcoming houses lining it.

"Where are we?" Harry asks.

"In a minute," Remus says quietly, looking at Moody expectantly as he rummages around in his cloak.

"Got it," he mutters, pulling out Dumbledore's trusty Deluminator and clicking it. The nearest streetlamp goes out with a pop. Moody clicks the Deluminator again and one by one each lamp on the street distinguishes, leaving the faint glow of lit rooms behind curtains the only source of light on the street.

"Borrowed it from Dumbledore," Moody explains to Harry, pocketing the Deluminator once more. "That'll take care of any Muggles looking out the window, see? Now, come on, quick."

Together, your group makes it towards houses Number 11 and Number 13. Even though he's been Disillusioned, you can still see Harry's form shivering with the cold, and you make a slow sweeping motion down the length of his body with your wand, muttering a quiet warming spell under your breath. You hear him breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thanks."

Remus tuts quietly under his breath. "No spell for the rest of us, then?"

You smile. "You're not my godson."

Even in the dark, you can see him rolling his eyes at you.

"Here," Moody says, thrusting a piece of paper towards Harry. "Read quickly and memorise."

"What's the Order of the — ?"

"Not here, boy!" Moody snarls immediately, his eyes wide. "Wait 'til we're inside!"

He snatches the parchment out of Harry's hand and lights it on fire, dropping it to the ground, the edges curling in the flame.

"But where's — ?"

"Think about what you've just memorised," Remus says quietly.

After a moment, the run-down door of the Black house emerges in the space between 11 and 13, followed soon by grimy walls and windows.

"Come on, hurry," Moody growls, prodding Harry in the back.

You tap the door with your wand. Loud metallic clicks and squeaks sound behind the door before it creaks open, revealing the darkened hallway beyond. "Get in quick, Harry. But don't go far inside and don't touch anything."

You shuffle into the hallway behind Harry, casting a wary eye to the curtained portrait at the end of the hall, waiting for Moody to finish returning the light to the streetlamps before closing the door behind him.

"Here." Moody raps Harry hard over the head with his wand, lifting the Disillusionment Charm and returning Harry to his usual, visible state. Probably could've been a bit more gentle with it, but whatever.

"Now stay still, everyone, while I give us a bit of light around here," Moody says quietly. With a soft hissing noise, the old-fashioned gas lamps flicker to life, illuminating the depressingly drab hallway you're standing in.

Hurried footsteps alert you to Mrs Weasley's entrance, emerging from the basement door with a smile on her face as she makes her way toward you.

"Oh, Harry, it's lovely to see you!" she whispers, pulling Harry into a tight hug before holding him at arm's length and examining him critically. "You're looking peaky; you need feeding up, but you'll have to wait a bit for dinner, I'm afraid..."

She turns to you and the rest of the Order members and whispers urgently, "He's just arrived, the meeting's started..."

Everyone starts to make their way through the door, and Harry moves to follow Remus when you gently hold him back, a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry, Harry. Order members only. We'll talk later, yeah?"

"Ron and Hermione are waiting upstairs, you can wait with them until the meeting's over, and then we'll all have dinner," Mrs Weasley whispers to him. "And keep your voice down in the hall."

"Why?"

"I don't want to wake anything up."

"What d'you — ?"

"I'll explain later, I've got to hurry, I'm supposed to be at the meeting — I'll just show you where you're sleeping."

You give Harry and Mrs Weasley a wave before heading down into the basement, opening the door as quietly as possible and slipping into your usual spot beside Sirius at the table while Dumbledore speaks to Remus and Moody about Harry. You listen as Dumbledore outlines plans and guard duty: looks like you're on tomorrow night. Brilliant.

Snape sits across from you, and when your eyes meet he gives you a near-imperceptible head shake. Nothing on Wormtail yet. Then his eyes shift to hatred as he wrinkles his nose at Sirius beside you, and you notice that your husband is currently pretending to scratch his nose with just his middle finger extended, directly in Snape's eyeline.

Of course.

When the meeting is finally over, most of the Order members file out of the kitchen and upstairs, speaking in hushed voices as they enter the hall. You pull one of the scrolls of parchment from the middle of the table into your hands, skimming your eyes over a plan of the Department of Mysteries, exits and entrances marked in red.

Just then, you hear a clatter and a great, thankfully muffled, screeching starts from the hall. You sigh, rubbing your temples, and move to stand up and deal with your darling mother-in-law when Sirius gently pushes you back into your chair, standing up.

"I'll handle it."

Bill and Mr Weasley sit close by, heads pressed together as they mull over parchment and documents. After a minute or two, the screaming stops and Sirius reopens the door, Harry following close behind with Remus and the rest of the kids.

Mrs Weasley clears her throat and Mr Weasley jumps to his feet, hurrying over to give Harry's hand a shake. "Harry! Good to see you!"

Bill starts to try and roll up the scrolls and you move to help him, handing him the plan of the Department of Mysteries.

"Journey all right, Harry?" he asks. "Mad-Eye didn't make you come via Greenland, did he?"

"He tried," Tonks says, striding over to help you and immediately knocking over a candle, sending the wax spilling onto the parchment. "Oh, no — sorry — "

"Here," you say, waving your wand and muttering a spell to repair the parchment. In the light your wand casts, you spy Harry trying to catch a glimpse of what's written on the parchment.

Mrs Weasley sees him too, and clicks her tongue disapprovingly, snatching up the scrolls and shoving them into Bill's arms. "This sort of thing ought to be cleared away promptly at the end of meetings."

She sweeps off towards a dresser to start unloading dinner plates and you grab a cloth and wipe down the table for dinner.

"Sit down, Harry," Sirius says, retaking his usual spot at the table. "You've met Mundungus, haven't you?"

Mundungus, who has been snoring away at the end of the table, stirs and jolts awake. "Someone say m' name? I agree with Sirius..."

He raises his hand in the air as though voting, and you snort.

"Meeting's over, Dung," you say with a smile, giving his back a poke as you pass by with more plates. "Harry's arrived."

"Eh?" He peers at Harry before his face lights in recognition. "Blimey, so 'e 'as! Yeah...you all right, Harry?"

"Yeah."

Mundungus fumbles in his pockets and produces his trusty black pipe, lighting the tip with his wand and taking a long pull from it. A cloud of green smoke thickens the air around him instantly.

"Owe you an apology," he grunts.

"For the last time, Mundungus," calls Mrs Weasley in frustration, "will you please not smoke that thing in the kitchen, especially not when we're about to eat!"

"Ah. Right, sorry, Molly."

He stuffs the pipe back into his pocket, with slight reluctance.

Soon, a series of heavy knives are chopping meat and vegetables on their own, supervised by Mr Weasley, while Mrs Weasley stirs a cauldron dangling over the fire. Mundungus, Sirius, and Harry are talking at the table, and from the few snippets you overhear you can tell Sirius is complaining about being stuck inside with nothing to do — which you don't blame him for.

"At least you've known what's been going on," Harry says bracingly.

"Oh, yeah," Sirius says sarcastically. "Listening to Snape's reports, having to take all his snide hints that he's out there risking his life while I'm sat on my backside here having a nice comfortable time...asking me how the cleaning's going — "

"What cleaning?" Harry asks.

"Trying to make this place fit for human habitation," Sirius replies, waving a hand around the dismal kitchen. "No one's lived here for ten years, not since my mother died, unless you count her old house-elf, and he's gone round the twist, hasn't cleaned anything in years — "

"Sirius?" Mundungus pipes up, eyes focused on a silver goblet in his hands, examining it with immense interest. "This solid silver, mate?"

"Yes," he answers, surveying the goblet with obvious distaste. "Finest fifteenth-century goblin-wrought silver, embossed with the Black family crest."

"That'd come off, though," Mundungus mutters thoughtfully, scrubbing the crest with his cuff.

"Fred — George — NO, JUST CARRY THEM!" Mrs Weasley shrieks.

Fred and George have bewitched a large cauldron of stew, an iron flagon of butterbeer, and a heavy wooden breadboard, to hurtle through the air towards the table. Harry, Sirius, and Mundungus leap away, just in time to avoid the pot of stew that skids the length of the table before stopping at the end, the flagon of butterbeer that falls with a crash and spills over the surface, dripping onto the floor, and the sharp knife that slips from the breadboard and sticks in the table where Sirius' hand had been moments before.

"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!" Mrs Weasley screams, face red with fury. "THERE WAS NO NEED — I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS — JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW DOESN'T MEAN YOU HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!"

"We were just trying to save a bit of time!" Fred says, hurrying forward and wrenching the knife out of the table. "Sorry, Sirius, mate — didn't mean to — "

Harry and Sirius are laughing, and you turn your face away to hide your laughter from the furious Mrs Weasley. Mundungus struggles to his feet, swearing and muttering under his breath.

"Boys," Mr Weasley steps in, lifting the stew pot back into the middle of the table. "Your mother's right, you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now that you've come of age — "

"None of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!" Mrs Weasley snaps at the twins, slamming a fresh flagon of butterbeer onto the table while you clean away the mess from the previous with your wand. "Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't charm everything he met! Percy — "

She stops dead, catching her breath with a frightened look at her husband. Mentions of Percy are not particularly welcomed in the house at the moment, after Percy and Mr Weasley had an especially heated argument and Percy chose his job at the Ministry over his own family.

"Let's eat," Bill says quickly.

For a few minutes, there is silence in the room but for the scraping of plates and cutlery and the creak of chairs as everyone settles down for the meal. You sit beside Sirius, who smiles and pulls your chair closer to his as you eat.

He tugs on the sleeve of your jumper, rolling the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. "I like this, it suits you. You look very pretty."

You scoff, giving him a smile. "Of course you like it, Sirius, it's yours. Anyways, I'm thinking of going back home soon just to collect a few things," you say. "Is there anything you want? I am seriously missing my telescope here — "

A loud burst of laughter drowns out the rest of your words, as Fred, George, Ron, and Mundungus roll around in their chairs.

"...and then," chokes Mundungus, tears running down his face, "and then, if you'll believe it, 'e says to me, 'Dung, where did ya get all them toads from? 'Cause some son of a Bludger's gone and nicked all mine!' And I says, 'Nicked all your toads, Will, what next? So you'll be wanting some more, then?' And if you'll believe me, lads, the gormless gargoyle buys all 'is own toads back off me for twice what 'e paid in the first place — "

"I don't think we need to hear any more of your business dealings thank you very much, Mundungus," Mrs Weasley says sharply.

"Beg pardon, Molly," he answers at once, wiping his face and winking at Harry. "But, you know, Will nicked 'em of Warty Harris in the first place so I wasn't really doing anything wrong — "

"I don't know where you learned about right and wrong, Mundungus, but you seemed to have missed a few crucial lessons," Mrs Weasley says coldly, before shooting a particularly nasty look at Sirius and standing up to fetch a large rhubarb crumble for dessert.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Mundungus is certainly not the most law-abiding man, but he has his uses.

"Molly doesn't approve of Mundungus," Sirius says quietly to Harry.

"How come he's in the Order?"

"He's useful," Sirius mutters. "Knows all the crooks — "

"Well, he would, seeing as he is one himself," you add, taking a sip from your wine.

Sirius nods. "He's also very loyal to Dumbledore, who helped him out a tight spot once. It pays to have someone like Dung around, he hears things we don't. But Molly thinks inviting him to stay for dinner is going too far. She hasn't forgiven him for slipping off duty when he was supposed to be tailing you."

Several helpings of crumble later, the air in the room moves to a relaxed laziness as you finish telling the story of Remus's first time getting drunk at Hogwarts to Tonks, who giggles and laughs while Remus shakes his head and becomes increasingly interested in his goblet. Sirius's hand rests on your hip, idly drawing circles with his finger.

"I don't — uh — I don't remember that," Remus says, cheeks crimson as he glances at Tonks to see her reaction.

You hum, smiling at him. "Well, I certainly do. "

Tonks smiles appreciatively at Remus, yawning loudly.

"Nearly time for bed, I think," Mrs Weasley says, yawning too.

"Not just yet, Molly," Sirius says, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. "You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort."

The change in the atmosphere is rapid: Mrs Weasley sits bolt upright, her fists clenched; Remus lowers his goblet warily, eyes meeting yours.

"I did!" Harry says indignantly. "I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we're not allowed in the Order, so — "

"And they're quite right," Mrs Weasley says firmly. "You're too young."

"Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?" Sirius asks, raising his eyebrows. "Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen — "

"Hang on!" George interrupts loudly.

"How come Harry gets his questions answered?" says Fred angrily.

"We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a single stinking thing!"

"You're too young, you're not in the Order," Fred says in a high-pitched imitation of his mother. "Harry's not even of age!"

"It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's been doing," Sirius says calmly. "That's your parents' decision. Harry, on the other hand — "

"It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!" Mrs Weasley says sharply, a dangerous look on her face. "You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?"

"Which bit?" His tone is polite, but you spot the familiar tense in his jaw and know that this calmness won't last long.

"The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know," Mrs Weasley replies stonily.

Everyone else in the room is dead silent, their eyes flitting between Sirius and Mrs Weasley as though watching a tennis match. You meet Remus's eyes across the table, subtly shaking your head.

"I don't intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly," says Sirius. "But he was the one who saw Voldemort come back. He has more right than most to — "

"He's not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!" Mrs Weasley snaps. "He's only fifteen — "

"And he's dealt with as much as most in the Order, and more than some — "

"No one's denying what he's done!" Mrs Weasley's voice rises, her fists trembling with anger. "But he's still — "

"He's not a child!" Sirius says impatiently.

"He's not an adult either! He's not James, Sirius!"

Sirius stares back at Mrs Weasley, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. His voice is ice. "I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly."

"I'm not sure you are!" Mrs Weasley says hotly. "Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it's as though you think you've got your best friend back!"

"What's wrong with that?" says Harry.

"What's wrong, Harry, is that you are not your father, however much you might look like him! You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!"

"Meaning I'm an irresponsible godfather?" Sirius demands, his voice rising.

"Meaning you've been known to act rashly — "

"Enough," you say loudly, stopping the two. You inhale deeply. "Harry deserves to know a certain amount. He has been left in the dark for a month, and I have no doubt that he's used this time to come up with a few interesting theories of what's been going on. Don't you think he deserves to know what is true, from us, rather than a muddled version from...others?"

You don't doubt that a few of Fred and George's Extendable Ears have survived Mrs Weasley's purge.

Mrs Weasley looks back at you, breathing deeply. "Well..." she looks around the table for support, but receives none. "Well...I can see that I'm going to be overruled. I'll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has Harry's best interests at heart — "

"He's not your son," Sirius says quietly.

"He's as good as!" Mrs Weasley snaps back fiercely. Great, just when you thought the argument had come to an end. "Who else has he got?"

You pause, hoping you misheard her.

"He's got us!" Sirius snaps back, gesturing between you and him.

"Yes. The thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it?"

Immediately, you feel your anger flare and you glare daggers back at her. "It's not like he had a choice, Molly!" You snap defensively. "How could you say something like that — "

"Molly, you're not the only person at this table who cares about Harry," Remus says sharply. "Sirius, sit down."

Sirius, who had begun to rise from his chair, sinks slowly back into his seat, face white.

"I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this," Remus continues calmly. "He's old enough to decide for himself."

"I want to know what's been going on," Harry says at once.

Mrs Weasley looks at him for a moment, swallowing harshly. "Very well. Ginny — Hermione — Ron — Fred — George — I want you out of this kitchen, now."

Instant uproar.

"We're of age!" Fred and George cry together.

"If Harry's allowed, why can't I?" Ron shouts.

"Mum, I want to!" Ginny wails.

"NO!" shouts Mrs Weasley, her chest heaving as she stands. "I absolutely forbid — "

"Molly, you can't stop Fred and George," Mr Weasley says wearily. "They are of age."

"They're still at school — "

"But they're legally adults now."

"I — alright, fine, Fred and George can stay, but Ron — "

"Harry'll tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!" Ron says heatedly. "Won't — won't you?" He adds uncertainly, meeting Harry's eyes.

"'Course I will."

Ron and Hermione beam.

"Fine!" Mrs Weasley shouts. "Fine! Ginny — BED!"

You hear Ginny stomping and raging at her mother all the way up the stairs, awakening Walburga's portrait when she reaches the hall. You sigh, hurrying off to force the curtains shut over the crazy woman with immense effort. You return, shutting the door to the stairs behind you, and fall back into your seat with a heavy sigh.

"Okay, Harry...what do you want to know?" Sirius speaks.

"Where's Voldemort? What's he doing? I've been trying to watch the Muggle news," Harry asks immediately, "and there hasn't been anything that looks like him yet, no funny deaths or anything — "

"That's because there haven't been any suspicious deaths yet," says Sirius. "Not as far as we know, anyway...and we do know quite a lot."

"More than he thinks we do, anyway," Remus adds.

"How come he's stopped killing people?" Harry asks.

"He doesn't want to draw attention to himself at the moment," you answer. "It would be dangerous for him. His comeback didn't quite come off the way he wanted it to, you see. He messed it up."

"Or rather, you messed it up for him," Remus says with a satisfied smile.

"How?" Harry questions, perplexed.

"You weren't supposed to survive!" Sirius says. "Nobody apart from his Death Eaters were supposed to know he'd come back. But you survived to bear witness."

"And the very last person he wanted alerted to his return the moment he got back was Dumbledore," says Remus. "And you made sure Dumbledore knew at once."

"How has that helped?"

"Are you kidding?" Bill says incredulously. "Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of!"

"Thanks to you, Dumbledore was able to recall the Order of the Phoenix the day Voldemort returned," says Sirius.

"So what's the Order been doing?" asks Harry, looking around the table at everyone.

"Working as hard as we can to make sure Voldemort can't carry out his plans," Sirius answers.

"How do you know what his plans are?"

"Dumbledore's got a shrewd idea," says Remus, "and Dumbledore's shrewd ideas normally turn out to be accurate."

"So what does Dumbledore reckon he's planning?"

"Well, firstly, he wants to build up his army again," says Sirius. "In the old days he had huge numbers at his command; witches and wizards he'd bullied or bewitched into following him, his faithful Death Eaters, a great variety of Dark creatures. You heard him planning to recruit the giants; well, they'll be just one group he's after. He's certainly not going to try and take on the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Death Eaters."

"So you're trying to stop him getting more followers?"

"We're doing our best," you say.

"How?"

"Well, the main thing is to try and convince as many people as possible that You-Know-Who really has returned, to put them on their guard," Bill tells. "It's proving tricky, though."

"Why?"

"Because the Ministry is still in denial," you say with a sigh. "You saw Fudge after Voldemort came back, Harry — he hasn't changed his mind at all. He's completely refusing to believe it."

"But why?" Harry asks desperately. "Why's he being so stupid? If Dumbledore — "

"Ah, well, you've put your finger on the problem," says Mr Weasley with a wry smile. "Dumbledore."

"Fudge is frightened of him," you say.

"Frightened of Dumbledore?" Harry says incredulously.

"Frightened of what he's up to," says Mr Weasley. "You see, Fudge thinks Dumbledore's plotting to overthrow him. He thinks Dumbledore wants to be Minister of Magic."

"But Dumbledore doesn't want — "

"Of course he doesn't," Mr Weasley speaks, adjusting his spectacles. "He's never wanted the Minister's job, even though a lot of people wanted him to take it when Millicent Bagnold retired. Fudge came to power instead, but he's never quite forgotten how much popular support Dumbledore had, even though Dumbledore never applied for the job."

Remus clears his throat. "Deep down, Fudge knows Dumbledore's much cleverer than he is, a much more powerful wizard, and in the early days of his Ministry he was forever asking Dumbledore for help and advice. But it seems that he's become fond of power now, and much more confident. He loves being Minister of Magic, and he's managed to convince himself that he's the clever one and Dumbledore's simply stirring up trouble for the sake of it."

"How can he think that?" Harry says angrily. "How can he think Dumbledore would just make it all up — that I'd make it up?"

"Because accepting that Voldemort's back would mean trouble like the Ministry hasn't had to cope with for nearly fourteen years," Sirius says bitterly. "Fudge just can't bring himself to face it. It's so much more comfortable to convince himself Dumbledore's lying to destabilize him."

"Ignorance is bliss," you say sardonically.

"You see the problem," Remus says. "While the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from Voldemort, it's hard to convince people he's back, especially as they don't really want to believe it in the first place. What's more, the Ministry's leaning heavily on the Daily Prophet not to report any of what they're calling Dumbledore's 'rumourmongering', so most of the Wizarding community are completely unaware anything's happened, and that makes them easy targets for Death Eaters if they're using the Imperius Curse."

"But you're telling people, aren't you?" says Harry, looking around the table. "You're letting people know he's back?"

You smile humourlessly.

"Well, as everyone thinks I'm a mass murderer and the Ministry's put a ten-thousand galleon price on my head, I can hardly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can I?" Sirius says grimly.

"And people don't exactly find the wife of said criminal the most trustworthy either," you say bleakly, shrugging.

"I'm not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community," Remus tells. "Occupational hazard of being a werewolf."

"Tonks and Arthur would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off," Sirius explains, "and it's very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry, because you can bet Voldemort will have them."

"We've managed to convince a few people though," Mr Weasley says optimistically. "Tonks here, for one — she's too young to have been in the Order last time, and having Aurors on our side is a huge advantage — Kingsley Shacklebolt's been a real asset too. He's in charge of the hunt for Sirius, so he's been feeding the Ministry information that Sirius is in Tibet."

"But if none of you is putting the news out that Voldemort is back — " Harry begins, but Sirius stops him.

"Who said none of us was putting the news out? Why d'you think Dumbledore is in so much trouble?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asks.

"They're trying to discredit him," Remus explains. "Didn't you see the Daily Prophet last week? They reported that he'd been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he's getting old and losing his grip, but it's not true, he was voted out by Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemort's return. They've demoted him from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot — that's the Wizard High Court — and they're talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class, too."

"But Dumbledore says he doesn't care what they do as long as they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog cards," Bill chimes in, grinning.

"It's no laughing matter," Mr Weasley says shortly. "If he carries on defying the Ministry like this, he could end up in Azkaban and the last thing we want is Dumbledore locked up. While You-Know-Who knows Dumbledore's out there and wise to what he's up to, he's going to go cautiously for a while. If Dumbledore's out of the way — well, You-Know-Who will have a clear field."

"What's he after apart from followers?" Harry asks quickly.

You exchange a glance with Sirius before he says, "Stuff he can only get by stealth."

Harry stays looking confused, and Sirius continues, "Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time."

"When he was powerful before?"

"Yes."

"Like what kind of weapon?" Harry asks. "Something worse than the Avada Kedavra — ? "

"That's enough."

From the shadows beside the door, Mrs Weasley stands, her expression furious. "I want you in bed, now. All of you."

"You can't boss us — " Fred begins.

"Watch me," she snarls, before turning her unapproving gaze on Sirius. "You've given Harry plenty of information. Any more and you might just as well induct him into the Order straight away."

"Why not?" Harry says. "I'll join, I want to join, I want to fight — "

"No."

This time, it's not Mrs Weasley who speaks, it's Remus.

"The Order is comprised of overage wizards," he says.

"Wizards who have left school," you add quickly, seeing the twins open their mouths. You sigh, pushing your chair away from the table, patting Sirius's arm softly. "Molly's right, Sirius. We've said enough. I think it's time everyone got some rest."

He gives a half-shrug but doesn't argue, waiting as Mrs Weasley leads her children and Harry upstairs to their bedrooms.

Later, you yawn around your toothbrush, facing the mirror in the dimly-lit ensuite off Sirius's bedroom.

"She can't seriously think leaving Harry in the dark about all this is the better option," Sirius muses testily, idly fiddling with your jewellery on the nightstand as he talks. "He's not a child. He's deserves to know what's going on."

"I agree."

"And the way she brought up James — as if I can't tell the difference between my best friend and my godson," he continues in frustration. "I know he's not James, of course I know that — "

You spit into the sink, pulling the tap to rinse it out. "She didn't know James. She doesn't know how difficult it is to stop yourself from looking at Harry and seeing him. How hard it is to not look for him and Lily in everything."

"No," Sirius says after a moment. "She doesn't."

You run your hands down your face, sighing. "I can't believe she said that thing about you in Azkaban. I can't believe she would stoop that low, as if you had any fucking choice to be in there."

"She hates me," he says. "Do you see the looks she gives me?"

"She doesn't hate you," you tell him wearily, flicking off the light and closing the bathroom door behind you. You lean against the doorframe, folding your arms. "She's scared and worried about Harry, that's all. She's stressed."

"She's not the only one."

"No, she's not," you say softly, making your way over to where he sits on the bed, gently taking his face in your hands. "Look, forget about it now. What's done is done, there's no use dwelling on it now."

He sighs, leaning into your touch with a small sigh. "You really are the most amazing woman I've ever met."

"I try."

He kisses your knuckles one by one, then presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist. "And clever."

You hum, watching as his lips slowly travel up your arm, arriving at your neck, where he lingers for several moments to kiss every inch of exposed skin he can reach. "And beautiful."

He pulls you toward him so you're straddling his legs, and he grins. "So very beautiful indeed."

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

->-> read chapter twenty-seven here!

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hivemuthur · 21 days ago

Text

What was that? - Ch. 14.

viktorxfemale!OFC explicit!

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.15.

word count: 6,5K

tag: #what was that

author’s note: @rennethen as beta reader and co-author of nsfw scenes. Big decisions are made as we inch toward the ending, more big decisions to come in the next chapter. This one has a bit of angst and making up :')

Cross-posted on AO3

—

A crumpled piece of paper stared at her from the desk, almost offensively. Don’t come. Ekko had been very clear about what was happening in Zaun—how they needed help and supplies—and yet, at the same time, he’d written, “Don’t come.” The words, scratched out in haste and frustration, outlined the chaos unfolding in the Undercity, painted in vivid, heart-wrenching detail. He spoke of the Chem-barons pushing harder, of the Grey spreading faster than anyone had anticipated, but it was the final sentence that cut deeper than the rest: Things look bad, but don’t come.

It was an incredibly stupid thing to say to someone whose first instinct was to do the exact opposite.

She knew how to sneak in unnoticed. She knew how to blend into the Undercity’s shadows, how to remain invisible on its streets even while carrying a massive bag filled with meds and supplies. She knew where to leave the packages and how to find Vander if the need ever arose. Her wardrobe even included the most inconspicuous clothes for this exact purpose, and she had practiced her most inconspicuous stroll to match. Yet nobody wanted her to go.

Ekko had told her not to come. Jayce would probably say the same. Was it fear for her safety? Or was it a plea for her to stay out of a war that had already begun to consume everything? Viktor—though he hadn’t said it so firmly—had shown it in his eyes. More than anyone, he didn’t want her to go. He’d all but forbidden her. The same way she had tried to forbid him from using the Hexcore.

Her chest tightened as she thought of his fractured resolve, of the utterly betrayed look on his face when he had found her clutching onto Jayce in the lab. How she had cried her heart out to Jayce, how she had confessed her complete, unfaltering devotion to Viktor. And yet it was Viktor who should have heard those words. Not Jayce. And certainly not like that. Not stolen or overheard in a desperate attempt to turn him away from his goal. He deserved so much better. He deserved to hear it in the safety of their bed, spoken with love and certainty—not anguish.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she smoothed the paper on her desk, her mind returning to the fleeting moment when Viktor had said, I am happy. How quickly that happiness had faded, replaced with another want—one far more dangerous and unapproachable than the concept of being loved. Or perhaps, she thought bitterly, they were equally alien to Viktor.

A knock on the door wrenched her out of her own head.

She glanced around her apartment, taking in its natural state of controlled chaos. Papers were scattered across her bed and floor, a few too many cups for one person splayed across various surfaces, clothes draped haphazardly over the chair. A scented candle burned faintly on the table, its singular ember a small, grounding presence in the midst of her internal monologue.

She sighed, stretched—she’d been sitting in the same position for what must have been two hours—and walked toward the door on wobbly legs.

When she opened it, Viktor stood on the other side, and her first thought was whether he had felt the same as she did now when she had shown up at his doorstep after their week apart. She mirrored his movements from that moment, fighting the immediate urge to pull him into an embrace. Instead, she settled for a gentle chin tilt, a silent beckon for him to come inside.

Wordlessly, she closed the door and turned to face him, only to find his gaze fixed on the floor. His trembling hand gripped his cane tightly, his knuckles white with tension. He looked awful—worn, hollow somehow—but she couldn’t pinpoint exactly why.

Before she could form the words to greet him, he suddenly clutched onto her like a drowning man reaching for a lifeline.

“Forgive me,” he whispered desperately against her neck, his voice raw and unsteady.

His cane clattered to the floor. Viktor clung to her with so much need, his breathing laboured and erratic, as though every exhale cost him more than he could bear. Renly froze for a moment, startled by the sheer force of his grip, but instinct soon took over. She raised her hands, resting them lightly on his back, feeling the faint tremor coursing through his body. His arms encircled her neck, holding her so tightly it almost hurt, as though letting go might shatter him completely.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice raw, cracking under the weight of his anguish. "I’m so sorry."

Renly’s fingers pressed gently against the fabric of his coat; her touch uncertain but steady. "Viktor," she began softly, but he interrupted her with another broken apology, his words tumbling over one another like a prayer.

"I’m so sorry," he whispered again, the sound of it splintering her heart.

She tightened her hold on him, grounding him as best she could, though she couldn’t understand what he meant. Her mind spun. He did it, didn’t he.

"Viktor, talk to me," she said, her voice calm despite the storm she could feel radiating from him. "I’m here. Whatever this is, you don’t have to carry it alone."

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he pressed his face against her neck, his breath hot and uneven on her skin. She could feel his weight bearing down on her, not just physically, but emotionally, as though the very act of standing upright was too much for him.

"I’m afraid," he murmured at last, so softly she almost didn’t hear him.

"Afraid of what?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to startle him.

"Of losing you," he admitted, his words breaking into a sob.

The sound sent a sharp pang through her chest. Viktor, who always carried himself with an air of precision and control, now stood before her utterly undone. He was a man stripped of his defences, standing on the edge of a precipice with nothing left to shield him.

"You won’t lose me," she promised, her voice firm despite the tears welling in her own eyes. "I’m right here, Viktor. I’m not going anywhere."

But he only clung tighter, as though her words weren’t enough to break through the crushing weight of whatever he was carrying.

"You don’t understand," he whispered, his voice cracking under the strain. "I’ve done something… something I cannot undo."

Her breath caught. She pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands moving to his shoulders. His eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, his face ashen with guilt and fear.

"What did you do?" she asked, the question gentle but unyielding.

Viktor shook his head, a tear slipping down his cheek. "I thought I could… fix—," he said, his words halting, as though even admitting it out loud might unravel him completely. "But I… I made a mistake, Renly. A terrible mistake."

A cold dread settled in her stomach. He did it. At least attempted it. She could feel her hands trembling—not just with fear, but with anger. Betrayal coursed through her veins, sharp and biting. How could he?

The thoughts poured into her mind, gnawing at each other, each one more vicious than the last. He’d gone ahead in his anger, in his stubbornness, and risked everything. Risked his life. Left her teetering on the brink of losing him entirely.

And for what? Because what she offered wasn’t enough? Because her care, her devotion, hadn’t been enough to make him stop, to make him reconsider?

The realisation burned her, stoking the flames of her own insecurities. She could feel the edges of her composure fraying as she stepped back from him, her arms dropping to her sides. The absence of her touch seemed to hit Viktor like a physical blow, his gaze snapping up to meet hers, wide and filled with something that might have been regret—or terror.

“What did you do?” she asked, her voice colder than she’d intended, cutting through the tension like a knife.

Viktor flinched, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of her words pressed him further into the ground. His lips parted, but for a moment, no sound came. His hands hovered uncertainly at his sides, as if reaching for something—her, maybe—but they didn’t move.

“I…” He muttered another apology, his voice barely audible, before finally forcing out the words. “The Hexcore. It… it nearly destroyed me.”

Nearly was an understatement. It had destroyed him—briefly—and then put him back together. Or rather, he had put himself back together with the last ounce of his will, while being consumed and pulled apart in every direction.

In that moment, a fleeting thought had crossed his mind, as one of the possibilities presented to him was an end. An end to his pain, to his indecision, to his fear. A blissful nothing had glimmered faintly before him, just within reach, offering peace and absolution. To become a part of the Arcane, forever forgotten and undisturbed.

Wrenching himself away from it had been the hardest thing Viktor had ever done—until now. Now, standing before Renly, he was faced with something even more daunting: proving his worth to her again. Explaining, somehow, that he had found all the answers he thought he needed, only to realise that none of them mattered without her. Explaining that he had stepped away—not because she was a consolation prize—but because she had always been, and would always remain, his first choice.

Emptiness echoed through Renly’s mind. Her anger faltered quickly, replaced by despair. She had despaired for him so deeply. Part of her wanted to reach back out and shield him from the world, to gather him in and protect him. But another part of her was so deeply wounded by the possibility—one that had never come to fruition yet had still clawed a gaping hole in her—that he had chosen otherwise, even briefly.

She willed her legs to move and passed him wordlessly on her way to the kitchen, granting him only a fleeting moment of her hand resting on his shoulder. She put the kettle on and pulled out two cups to later join her ever growing cup display across the apartment.

Viktor dragged himself behind her, eventually slumping into the chair like a defeated dog. They sat in silence for what felt like an eternity until she finally placed a steaming cup before him and took a seat across the table, facing him directly.

“All right. What happened?”

“Renly, I—” Viktor sniffled, struggling to gather words that would make sense. “I am so sorry.”

“Stop apologising, Viktor. It already happened,” she said, exasperated, her voice tinged with annoyance. But seeing how he shrank under her scolding, she softened, reaching out to take his hand.

“I was so angry,” he admitted, his voice low and trembling. “With you, with Jayce. I suppose I felt exactly how you are feeling now.” He looked up, meeting her eyes with raw vulnerability. “I… I touched it. And it just devoured me. Broke me. Showed me what I could become—and the price for it. And I realised… I hated it.”

Renly held her breath, her hand retreating from his. “Are you hurt?”

“No. Well, slightly,” Viktor winced, his lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s mostly my mind that’s hurt. My pride.” He thought of the way the Hexcore had terrorised him, its merciless grip, and how he couldn’t bring himself to tell her the full truth.

“I can’t believe you threw it all away on a whim,” she blurted, unable to keep the accusation from slipping out.

“It was not a whim!” Viktor’s voice rose, but only briefly, before it broke into a sigh. “It was a promise of something better. For you. For me. Mostly for me,” he admitted, his gaze falling, his thoughts spiralling into incoherence.

“Viktor.” Renly’s tone was heavy, her emotions warring within her. “I can only imagine… No, actually, I can’t imagine what you feel every day.” She stopped him with a sharp look when she saw he was about to interrupt. “I’m so sorry that I don’t know. I was… I was afraid to lose you too.” Her voice cracked, betraying the pain she had tried to hide.

“Renly,” he said, his words weighed down with difficulty, yet he forced himself to continue. “I would understand if this were something you cannot forgive.”

“Viktor, how can you—” she began, but the tears rolling down her cheeks choked the words in her throat. She raised a crook of her elbow to cover her eyes, desperately trying to steady herself.

A hysterical thought shot through Viktor’s mind—that this was their teary goodbye—and for a moment, he was certain he’d start crying as well. He closed his eyes, feeling the heat gathering under his lids, when her hands found him again. Her weight settled on his lap, her face nuzzling into his hair.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, a full-blown cry that dampened his sweater and neck. “You’re so… good, and I haven’t told you,” she said, her voice breaking as she wiped her tears on him. “I didn’t know what I would do if you…” Another sob tore through her, ugly and raw, overblown with all the feelings she had bottled up for far too long.

Viktor wrapped his arms around her, pulling her impossibly closer as he tried to suppress his own tears. His chin rested lightly on her shoulder, and he whispered hoarsely, “I know.”

And he did. He knew it with a clarity that terrified him. That feeling of being so completely entwined with someone else, so dependent on them for a piece of his own happiness—it was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. Never in his life had he allowed himself to need someone like this, to let someone burrow so deeply into the carefully constructed walls around his heart. But he couldn’t fight it anymore. He didn’t want to.

“Will you…” His voice wavered as he pulled back just enough to meet her swollen, tear-streaked face. “Will you have me back?”

Renly blinked at him, her brows knitting together as if she wanted to argue, to challenge him, to tell him just how wrong he was. She’d never gotten rid of him in the first place. But the words didn’t come. Instead, her trembling hands cradled his face, and she leaned in, pressing a sloppy, tear-soaked kiss against his mouth.

“Yes,” she muttered, her lips brushing his as she spoke the word straight into him, warm and raw and final. “Yes.”

Viktor shuddered under her touch, relief washing over him. He kissed her back, softly at first, then with more urgency, needing to feel the truth of her words. It wasn’t elegant or perfect—it was messy and desperate, as he swallowed her tears down as if they were his own.

Wordlessly, Renly took his hands and guided him toward her bedroom, minding all the obstacles along the way, her movements impatient. Viktor stepped carefully behind her, taking in the clutter of random objects. Not much had changed since the last time he’d been there; she had just added more colourful lamps.

Once they had reached the bedroom, she pushed the door shut before pinning Viktor against it, her hands reaching for his neck to pull him into a desperate kiss. He gave away a startled gasp, as she bit his lower lip and slid her palms underneath his shirt. His coat, long abandoned on the hallway floor, left him wearing the same clothes he had worn the day before, and they gave off a faint metallic smell of blood and gear oil from the lab.

Viktor let out a chuckle, as her needy fingers rushed to undo his buttons and rush him out of the layers, scratching his chest with her fingernails by accident. With almost restrained movements, he did the same for her, as if his regard for clothes had vanished, and he only obliged because of her decency in not ripping the fabric right off his back.

With their mouths still glued together, Viktor let his weight rest on her, as he backed them toward the bed, positioning himself to sit first and pull her into his lap. He cupped her face and pulled her in for a tight embrace, his forehead resting in the curve of her neck. He pressed his face into her hair and breathed in deeply through his mouth and nose, hoping to keep her scent with him forever.

Renly ran her fingers down his spine, the bolts embedded in it, as she gently detached all the parts that corseted Viktor’s frame, rubbing her palms flat along the dents and marks it left in his skin. He let out a relieved exhale, as her mouth came back to his into a messy open mouth kiss, his hands pressing on her shoulder blades. Her lips needy, giving away moans of urgency, as if there wasn’t enough of him.

She stood up, guiding him with her, before she leaned down to take off his leg brace with a few quiet clicks and placed it by the bed. Viktor felt her hands sliding down his thigh, her fingers pressing gently around his knee. She then returned to level with him and licked the seam of his mouth as she unbuckled his belt.

Viktor hesitated; his hands travelled to steady hers before she could pull his pants down. There, below the layer of material, was the very proof of his infidelity, of his weakness. The purple, fluorescent vein that burned itself into the fabric of his flesh—a forever reminder of a moment when he almost let himself be corrupted.

She squeezed his palms and broke the kiss with a sigh. Her hands then cradled his neck, pulling him in so she could ghost his forehead, his eyebrows, his eyelids, his moles, the corner of his mouth, the side of his nose, the spot under his jaw, his neck, with her lips. A silent signal of acceptance, of forgiveness, of the fact that nothing had to be forgiven in that moment. Viktor’s hands hovered in the air patiently until her last kiss, when they rested on her hips, curling under the waistband of her pants.

They rid themselves of the last bit of clothing together, Renly’s eyes lingering for a moment on the alien string in Viktor’s body, his own eyes closed as he slid her pants off with the dull movement of his palms, cradling the skin of her legs. Standing close, but not close enough, Viktor reached out to slowly pull her flush against him. Their mouths came together wrenching breaths out of each other, his thumb stretching the muscle of her cheek as he sunk his tongue in her, breathing heavily through his nose, pressing his chest, his groin, his legs to her and her to his chest and groin so he could feel her naked against him.

Renly’s arms cradled his waist, her palms splayed flat on his back pushing him in, her teeth bringing blood onto his tongue. The fleeting moment of loss was gone, but the feeling of it still present, as they met each other truly for the first time—in hunger and longing, both searching for absolution in each other’s bodies.

Viktor lowered himself back to the edge of the bed, breaking the kiss only to sit her on top of his thighs, her legs straddling him tightly. He clung onto her for balance and for kindness, all their rituals previously established now abandoned for the sake of the urgency of feeling one another, sealing all the things that were close to breaking. He searched for consent in her eyes when his cock found her entrance, and she gave him a silent eager nod against his nose.

Viktor pressed himself in and paused mid-movement, noticing a wince cross her face. “Are you alright?” Of all things, this couldn’t hurt—it mustn’t.

“Yes… ah, yes,” she breathed into his mouth, sinking onto him up to the hilt, the stretch so gratifying she could cry again. A quiet ‘yes’ kept falling from her lips as Viktor’s hips thrusted upwards, their lips and noses bumping against each other in erratic rhythm.

She steadied herself, gripping his chin with one hand and his shoulder with the other, letting him take over, when his hand seized her palm and guided her fingers between them, where their bodies met. A bead of sweat travelled from the pool of her collarbones, down between her breasts, down her belly, to where she touched herself for him.

Her brows knitted together, her mouth hung open between quick breaths, waiting for him, when Viktor cranked his neck to rub his face against hers whispering, “Come on my cock, lásko.”

A full body shudder went through her, as she leaned her weight on him, her thighs clutching around his hips, his bones digging into her flesh, her walls clenching and she muffled a cry of completion into his mouth.

Viktor groaned soon after her, the tightness hugging his cock almost unbearable, as he spilled himself inside, caging her body with his arms, his tongue and teeth dragging across her shoulder. He then collapsed them to the side, still buried within her core, his waist resting on her thigh, his legs curled up under her bum, face nuzzled into her neck.

He kissed her again, his arm stretching out to grab the pillows from the bed head, one to tug under her pelvis as he rolled them over onto it, the other propped under his knee as he hooked his leg underneath hers, their bodies still connected. His tongue exploring her mouth, slowly this time, when his cock slipped out of her, and she let out a disappointed gasp.

Splaying his body on top of hers, their stomachs pressed against each other, he kept kissing her until he felt himself grow hard again. Her belly began to raise and fall more frantically, his own abdomen flexing as he propped himself on one arm and spat into his hand. He reached between them to cup her cunt and rubbed it gently, the slick spreading around her entrance.

He gave his cock a couple of wet strokes to then cage himself around her, one hand above her pressed into the mattress, the other entwining their fingers together, pinning her palm next to her head.

Gently and slowly, he entered her again, his movements soft so she could get used to him once more. The feeling of her walls around him washed over his senses, their scents mixing together, his hips rolling languidly against hers with reverence, as her body accepted him fully. In a pledge of utter devotion, Viktor murmured between his gasps, “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” she immediately whispered into his mouth. Viktor was being careful and precise, drawing out her pleasure and prolonging his. He wanted to savour the slide of their bodies melting into one, memorizing every moan that fell between them. Their noses pressed together, breathing heavily, her brows furrowed, mouths agape as their lips brushed against each other with each push of his hips.

His movements grew more intense, though the pace remained the same. Each slow deep thrust he gave her made her gasp quietly, as his cock kept hitting the right spot. He released her hand to slide his palm between them, his fingers finding her cunt, spreading her lips before resting on her clit. He rubbed it lazily, timing the action with the rolls of his hips and building the pressure withing her as her walls begun to clench around him desperately.

Renly dug her nails into his hips, her brows scrunched together, her mouth panting, breathless, and Viktor only smiled and whispered a quiet, “Yes, you are doing so well.” Her thighs squeezed his hips as she reached another climax, her head lifting from the pillow, crying out into his mouth.

He carefully worked her through the orgasm, before picking up the pace of his thrusts to reach his own completion, her name falling from his lips in a quiet chant. Her walls squeezed against his cock, his arms wrapping around her, face buried in her neck, gasping and panting. His movements grew sloppier the closer he got, when he finally spilled himself inside her with a loud groan, his body collapsing onto hers.

For a moment they both breathed heavily, their stomachs connected, rising and falling together. Then, Viktor rolled off her, pulling her with himself to give her a kiss sealing his devotion to her. He withdrew his cock with a quiet sleek sound, letting his seed leak out between them.

He felt her arms tightening around his neck, her breath growing unsteady, and the flutter of her heartbeat. Then he noticed her chest trembling next to his and pulled back to look at her, only to see tears streaming from beneath her closed eyelids.

“Did I hurt you?” was his first instinct to ask as he eased himself out of the vice grip of her thighs to cradle her face against his chest. “Are you in pain?”

“No, no—” Renly croaked, laughing through her sobs as she dampened Viktor’s chest. “I just feel… empty.” Empty of pain, of anger, of the horrible dread she’d felt when he crossed her doorstep. Empty of doubt and insecurities. All the empty space left to be filled with something new.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” she chuckled, trying to wipe her tears away with her hand, but there were too many. “It’s never happened before. I’m so sorry.”

“Lásko, it’s normal. Cry it out—it’s… beautiful,” Viktor murmured against her ear, his fingers combing gently through her hair. He felt his ribcage swell with contentment, a feeling of utter peace flooding his body from head to toe. Her tears felt like a silent confession etched onto the skin covering his heart.

“What is this?” Renly sniffled again, quieter this time, as she began tracing circles in the damp patch on Viktor’s chest, exhaling slowly through her mouth.

“Temperance,” Viktor mused, cradling her to him as though she were a precious gift. “We’ve been… reforged in our heat, tempered in your tears.”

His words left her gaping into the space in front of her, tracing lines between Viktor’s freckles and moles with her fingers. Silence followed for a while. It was comfortable, with something unfolding. Not love, which wrenched and wounded. Not love, which came only once.

When a yawn tore her mouth apart, Viktor nudged her gently with his chin and asked, “Shower?”

“Yes, shower.” Renly stretched across the bed, pulling Viktor along with her. She grabbed his hands and pulled them above their heads and pressed her toes on his feet, drawing a low chuckle from his throat.

They did all the things they usually did, but somehow it all felt new again—in a new space, with a new emptiness to fill. Renly let the shower run until the water turned warm and prepared fresh towels for them.

They stepped into the shower together, the steam curling around their skin. The first blast of water hit Viktor’s shoulder, and he winced, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Too hot?” Renly asked with a smirk, already reaching for the handle to adjust the temperature.

“Do you usually scald yourself in the shower?” Viktor teased, the corners of his mouth quirking up despite the discomfort.

Renly rolled her eyes, turning the dial until the water was just shy of lukewarm. “Better?”

“Much better,” he said, his tone playful. “Though I’m still recovering from the trauma.”

Renly huffed a laugh and grabbed a bar of soap from the shelf. “I’m afraid you’re going to smell like a coconut,” she said, holding it up as if presenting evidence of her crime.

“Good,” Viktor replied without hesitation. “I love coconut.”

She grinned, shaking her head slightly before beginning her task. Her hands glided over his arms and chest, the soap lathering into creamy bubbles as she worked. She moved with deliberate tenderness, kneading his muscles as though to coax away every last knot of tension that had taken residence in him. Viktor let his eyes drift shut, exhaling as her hands trailed over his shoulders and down his back.

She hesitated when her hand landed on his thigh, the oppressive purple vein even more visible on his flushed skin. Feeling the hover of her touch, Viktor took her palm in his and kissed her knuckles. “It’s alright.”

“Does it hurt?” she asked quietly, and then a thought popped into her head. Of course, it did—it had always hurt.

“No. It just feels… strange.” Viktor pulled her in and wrapped her arm around his neck. “I’ll have to get used to it. It’s a small price.”

When she reached up to wash his hair, he leaned into her touch like a weary traveller finding solace. Her fingers threaded through his damp curls, massaging the soap in gentle circles over his scalp. Every now and then, Viktor caught her hands, pressing a kiss to her fingers and wrists in a gesture that felt reverent. The simplicity of it—the quiet intimacy—made Renly’s chest ache in the best way.

When she finished, Viktor turned her by the shoulders, swapping places with her under the stream of water. He took the soap from her, his hands warm and sure as they smoothed over her skin. He moved slowly, deliberately, as if mapping her anew. The steam curled around them, the water running in rivulets down her back as he pulled her flush against him.

When he reached her hair, his fingers worked through the strands with a skill that surprised her. His thumbs pressed into her temples, eliciting a soft moan as her eyes fluttered shut, rolling back in her skull.

“Good?” he murmured, his voice low and rich.

“Perfect,” she breathed, leaning into him.

They kissed lazily under the stream, the water running between them as their mouths met in unhurried synchrony. Their hands found each other’s skin, not in hunger this time but in care—an exchange of solace, of connection. Every touch felt like a quiet vow, a promise that they didn’t need words to seal.

When they got back to bed, which had been changed by Renly’s insistence—Viktor said he didn’t mind, and he really didn’t—she started to drift off almost immediately. His hands traced the lines of her tattoo, lingering around ‘his place’ in it. After a long pause, he finally took a deep breath and asked, “You’re going to Zaun, aren’t you?”

“Will you hate me if I do?” Renly murmured, barely keeping her eyes open.

“No. Will you let me come with you?” Viktor’s voice was low and steady, though there was a hint of something uncertain beneath it. He truly couldn’t bear the thought of her being alone in there, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her constantly looking over her shoulder to see if he was safe if he went with her.

She shifted slightly, meeting his gaze in the dim light. “Viktor, you know I can’t do that. You will suffocate.” It was a statement that carried no judgment and no guilt. It was just a statement, saying the obvious, and yet—it made Viktor feel like he was just about to suffocate.

He inhaled sharply, but his hand gently found its way to hers, his fingers threading through hers. “I can wear a mask. But… we can talk about this tomorrow.” His thumb brushed her knuckles, a subtle gesture of reassurance. “Just know I’m ready to come with you.”

***

As they walked, Viktor’s grip was tight on Renly’s hand. Their morning was quiet, almost warm, until she made him laugh by dropping half of her sugar dish into his coffee with a smirk. He glanced at her with concern when he saw her putting on her Zaunite clothes, but dared not say anything.

They arrived at the lab together, and Jayce, relieved to see them both, looked up. "Mel fought off the council," he said, almost hopefully. "For now, the Hexcore is to remain as an 'on hold' project. We’re to seal it and put it away." Viktor sighed, a mixture of relief and disappointment flooding through him. Renly placed a hand on his shoulder, cradling his cheek gently with the other.

She moved on to pack a bag with supplies, medications, and gas masks for her trip to Zaun. She felt Viktor’s eyes lingering on her the whole time; she knew exactly what he wanted to do and say, and all the bones in her body ached with that knowledge. Jayce glanced at her and asked, "Are you going?"

Renly replied with a weak "yes," her gaze flicking over to Viktor. He shifted his stance on his cane, his voice soft as he spoke, "Renly… please take me with you. I cannot bear it." The weakness in him tore him apart. The weakness of his body fought the weakness of his pride, and his fragile heart—one that had only just reconciled with Renly’s—beat unsteadily in his chest when he saw her eyes, an apology pouring from them.

"Viktor, I beg you. Please, don’t make me choose," she replied, stopping her packing for a moment. She took his hands in hers. "Because if you make me, I will stay, and you will resent yourself for it."

"I will resent myself either way," he whispered weakly, the shape of his mouth askew as he tried to hold all of his weaknesses back. And even though he knew that none of the options presented to him in his agonizing journey through The Arcane were acceptable, for a fleeting moment, he longed for his body to be whole and able.

"I will go." Jayce’s voice was firm and present, so present, in fact, that both Renly and Viktor turned their necks to look at him.

"Jayce, you can’t—" Viktor shook his head in disbelief. He took a step forward toward Jayce, as if trying to physically stop him.

"I will go, and I will come back—with you." He gripped Renly’s shoulders while making his plea. "I’ll deliver you to Viktor’s doorstep, unharmed, I promise." And that promise was meant for Viktor, as Jayce turned his head to look at his partner.

"I… Jayce," Viktor’s words failed him. He knew, of course, that this was the solution to their conundrum. He admired Jayce so deeply in that moment. And even though his mind still whispered horrible insults to himself, he exhaled a breath of surrender. Because he trusted Jayce.

"I told you. You don’t have to carry this alone. And you don’t have to carry this—" Jayce pointed to the bag, "—alone. This is what I can do." He said, his face painted with a reassuring smile, as all three of them stood in a small circle, as if there was no grave danger before them.

Viktor pulled Jayce into an embrace, his voice barely a whisper as he said, "Please, bring her back to me." Jayce hugged him tighter, knocking the breath out of Viktor’s lungs.

They all packed the necessary items into three convenient bags. Jayce’s hand rested on Viktor’s shoulder from time to time, as if to reassure him he would be true to his word. When everything was ready, they stood before the front door, staring at the floor. Viktor let out one last sigh before kissing Renly deeply, for the first time on full display in front of Jayce.

She squeezed her eyes shut, clinging to his wrists. He rested his forehead against hers and whispered, “I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself.” Renly let out a shaky exhale, then opened her eyes and cradled his face.

“Viktor, I admire you. I respect you. I adore you; I love you so much my heart aches.” She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and kissed him again.

They were startled by a muffled choke coming from Jayce, who had been completely forgotten in that moment. “Guys, this is so beautiful,” he said weakly, pressing his fingers into his eyes, trying to hold back one, maybe two tears.

Renly and Viktor exchanged an embarrassed chuckle, the tension of the moment dissolving. Jayce wiped his eyes, smiling apologetically as he slung one of the bags over his shoulder. “Alright, let’s get moving before Viktor convinces me to restrain you and keep you safe here.”

Renly stepped closer to Viktor one last time, smoothing a hand down his chest. “I’ll be back,” she whispered, leaning in for a final, tender kiss. “Promise me you’ll rest.”

Viktor nodded; his throat too tight to speak. He held her hands in his for a moment longer, his grip unsteady but firm. “Be careful,” he managed to say, his voice breaking just slightly.

Renly squeezed his fingers before letting go, turning to Jayce. He gave Viktor a reassuring nod as if to silently repeat his earlier promise. “I’ll bring her back,” Jayce said softly, the sincerity in his tone like a steady anchor.

With that, the two of them stepped through the door. Viktor stood frozen as he watched them go, his cane trembling slightly in his hand. The sound of the door closing echoed through the room like a final note, and for a moment, he stood there in silence, staring at the empty space where they had been.

The sound of his own sob startled him in the silence. He tried to shy away from it by hiding his face in the crook of his elbow, but it was a futile attempt. His shoulders shook as a full-blown wave of weeping overcame him. The weight of everything—the worry, the helplessness, the love that threatened to swallow him whole—poured out in sobs that filled the empty hallway. His heart, so fragile and raw, cracked under the pressure of letting her go.

He clutched his cane like it was the only thing keeping him upright, tears streaking down his cheeks as he gasped for breath. Viktor rarely allowed himself to cry, but now, in the solitude of the lab, there was no one to witness his unravelling. No one to judge the vulnerability that poured out of him in rivers. For the first time in so long, he let himself feel everything, unrestrained and unapologetic.

He cried out all his anger, cried out his leg, his spine. He cried out the unbearable thought of Renly getting hurt—or worse. He cried out the failure of his dream, the loss of Rio, his lungs, himself—every oppressive thought that gnawed at him, every splinter in every bone of his body. When his throat began to burn, a thought ignited weakly, like an ember. You are good at something. Wiping his tears away, chuckling at the absurd of his outburst, he turned back to the lab and sunk back into work.

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