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joelscruff · 1 year ago

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feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART SEVEN

previous chapters | welp. it's here. this one is a DOOZY, and i'm so sorry. i never expected it to get this long but oh well!!! go grab a snack and get settled cause this one is kinda wild. love u guys sm. i proofread this very quickly so i apologize if there's any mistakes!! and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 chapter summary: the pressure is building in more ways than one. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, mentions of religion, catholic guilt, sexting, n00ds, oral (m receiving), lap-sitting, thigh riding, alcohol, lemme know if i missed any! word count: 15.6k ao3

You're beginning to learn that Joel runs hot and cold.

There have been moments with him, intimate and special and warm, moments that make you feel light on your feet and send butterflies wilding through your stomach. Moments where he's open and present and wants all his attention to be on you, on your body, your pleasure. His touch sets you alight, his words send tingles down your spine.

And then weekdays happen and you start second guessing yourself all over again.

On Sunday you'd attended church with your parents, another attempt at appeasing your mother in lieu of all the lies and deceit. You've only gone to a select few services since you came home, something you know they've been silently judging you for and just waiting to hold above your head. Admittedly you'd been afraid of bumping into people you knew, having to switch on your teenage persona of Good Catholic Girl™ and lie through your teeth about how good it feels to be back home again. Luckily in the few services you'd attended, you'd only run into some elderly family friends, managing to avoid anyone you went to high school with.

Your luck had to run out at some point, though. This service you'd been accosted by none other than Bethany, one of your childhood friends who you'd practically left in the dust when you'd gone away for college. Her friendship was always full of judgement, perfection, and not to mention heaps of Catholic guilt. She'd taken one look at you, appraising you up and down as if assessing you for imperfections, then pulled you into a tight hug.

"It's so good see you," she'd said when she'd pulled back, a wide - and borderline frightening - grin plastered on her face, "My momma told me you were back, thought I woulda heard from you by now!"

Your mother, standing beside you in your pew, had furrowed her brow at this, clearly confused. You hadn't understood her reaction completely until Bethany had headed off to go say hi to someone else.

"I thought you had lunch with her and Alice the other week," she'd murmured softly to you under her breath, giving you an accusatory look, "Said you'd be helping them out over the summer. That's what you told me, anyway."

Fuck.

"O-oh, right," you'd had no idea what else to say other than that, biting down on your lip and staring straight ahead as the service began. She hadn't said anything else about it, but you'd sat in discomfort and anxiety for the next hour.

In a panic, you'd found Bethany after the service and quickly asked if she needed any extra help at Sunday School, to which she'd responded with enthusiasm - a little too much - that they always needed extra hands on Thursdays to help with lesson planning. You'd jumped at the chance, telling her you'd be there.

That night you'd texted Joel. You hadn't heard from him all day despite it being a weekend, and part of you had been hoping you might go over and see him once your parents were asleep.

guess who's volunteering at church now? this idiot.

You'd expected words of comfort, maybe a joke, at least something that would make you feel better about the situation. However, his response to yours had been brief, short, simple:

Rough. Get some sleep x

This trend of short responses has only continued throughout the rest of the week. He's distant when you text him, responds with a few words at best, short and simple and almost like an entirely different person. It's hard to believe it's the same man who whispers good girl in your ear and tells you how well you're doing, how wet you are, how pretty you look. His texts are some ghostly version of him, constantly fading in and out, barely showing interest or desire - that is, if he texts you at all.

It makes your skin itch, sends your insecurities into a tailspin. Why does this always seem to happen? You can't make heads or tails of it - you know he's busy, know that his job takes a lot out of him, and yet you can't help but feel that there's something more he's not telling you. He'd told you on his back deck all about how he wasn't very happy at his job, how he'd prefer to be retired by now, living life on his own terms - so why can't he just do that? It's clearly taking a toll on him, and while part of you feels empathetic and yearns to comfort him, another part feels angry, irritated.

You'd gone to your friends with these concerns, hoping for some sort of answer or solution to the problem. Instead, they'd been more sympathetic to Joel's plight than yours.

you gotta remember you're not in a relationship with him babe

right!! men are v simple creatures. they see things black & white. ur his fuck buddy and he prob doesn't rly want it to go beyond that.

now THAT'S going too far. she's more than his fuck buddy definitely. he wouldn't have told her his whole life story last weekend if that were true.

telling her he had a fucked up childhood isn't necessarily his whole life story. most guys had shitty childhoods lbr

but he opened up!!!!! fuck buddies don't do that.

exactly

i wish you guys were here :(

i'm honestly 5 secs away from booking a flight to texas bestie. gotta use my dad's frequent flier miles somehow.

"My friend Tasha is coming to visit this weekend," you tell your mom on Wednesday evening with a smile, turning your phone toward her to show the Airbnb you'll be staying at, "We're gonna stay at this little bungalow, have a girls' weekend."

Her brow furrows, "Why can't Tasha stay here?"

Because Tasha would terrify you, you want to say, because Tasha doesn't wear pants unless absolutely necessary. Instead you just smile again and say, "I think a change of scenery would be good for me, it'll be like a mini vacation. Plus there's a hot tub."

"Now that's something we need," she turns back to her book with a shake of her head, "I swear, your father is more interested in buying that boat we'll never use instead of something new for the backyard." You hadn't been asking for her permission, but her indifference sends a wave of relief through you; you've still been trying to be on your absolute best behavior lately to make up for the lies.

You head out to the backyard and seat yourself in a lounge chair by the pool, unlocking your phone again and swiping to your last conversation with Joel from last night.

hope you had a good day :)

I'm sure yours was better. Sleep well x

Curt and to the point, not at all what you'd wanted him to reply with. You recall one of your first phone conversations, the one where you'd been experiencing the same lack of interest in his texts, what he'd said to you: Don't think for one second that I don't think about you. But how can you not? How are you supposed to feel desired when he's being like this?

can you call me tonight?

You try not to wait too long before biting the bullet, not wanting to talk yourself out of it, but you do stare at the message with your finger hovering over the send button for longer than you really need to. The sound of the back door sliding open forces you to send it, locking your phone again as your mother walks over and seats herself beside you in another chair.

"It's nice to see you wearing that again," she says with a nod to your chest, referring to your crucifix - after wearing it again last weekend you'd thought that keeping it on might please her. "You're starting to really settle in here again, aren't you?"

You try not to grimace, "Yeah, it's nice being home."

She leans back in her chair, letting the suns rays hit her for a little bit without speaking. You sit there waiting for her to say something else, discomfort flooding through you. You're reminded of how easy it was to sit with Joel in his backyard last weekend, how little pressure there was to put up any kind of front - sitting here with your mother is the exact opposite.

"So, you lied to me," she finally says, voice quiet.

Your eyes widen and you sit up a bit, turning to her with panic already rising in your throat, "Wh-what do you mean?"

She doesn't turn to look at you, continuing to stare at the sky, eyes covered by her comically large sunglasses, "You know what I mean."

You sit there, staring at her with a mix of confusion and fear. There's no way she knows about Joel, how could she know? Who would have told her? You wonder if perhaps one of her neighborhood friends saw you leaving his house, saw you in his car... but the guise of lessons is your cover now, so how would any of that point to your relationship?

Some relationship, you can't help but think to yourself, based entirely on sex and only communication on the weekends.

"Bethany and Alice," your mom finally states, and you feel the panic in the pit of your stomach loosen immediately - oh.

"Mom," you say immediately, shaking your head, "I-I know. I'm sorry. I know I told you we met up but..." you bite your lip, trying to come up with some kind of excuse but coming up empty.

Instead, you do something that surprises you entirely - you tell the truth. Or at least... half of it.

"I really feel like my friendship with them has passed," you admit with a frown, "I'm... I'm different than I was when I left, you know that, don't you? I'm sure you've noticed."

She's still not looking at you but you catch her nodding slowly, thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry I lied but... I didn't want to disappoint you. And I didn't want you to worry about me being alone all the time. I'm actually rarely ever alone at college so it's been nice to have some time to myself," you smile, thinking of the girls in your group chat constantly waiting for new updates, "Having lunch with two people I haven't talked to in years just... didn't seem appealing to me. I have different friends now, you know? I'm older, people outgrow each other."

"Friends like Tasha," your mom states, bitterness in her voice, "Tasha who you don't even want me to meet."

You make a face, "Mom..."

She puts her hands up in defeat, shaking her head, "It's fine. You can do what you want and so can she," the words are drenched in judgement, "But you should remember that there are rules for staying here, young lady. And honesty is one of those rules."

You take a deep breath, swinging your legs around the edge of the chair and placing your arms on your knees, your face in your hands. You're so close to snapping back at her, making a comment that'll surely start an argument, but you shove it back down as best you can, counting to ten in your head.

"I'm sorry," you finally say through gritted teeth, "It won't happen again."

"It better not." She stands up then, disappears from the chair as quickly as she'd settled in it. You watch as she walks to the back door again, reaches for the handle.

Your mouth can't stop itself.

"Have you told Dad about my guitar lessons yet?"

She freezes, turns and stares at you for a moment without saying anything, then opens the door and heads back inside, slamming it behind her.

Checkmate.

I will when I get home.

Your anxiety is through the roof as you pace back and forth in your bedroom after darkness has fallen, freshly showered and pampered and already out of distractions. Without really thinking much about it, you pull Joel's flannel from under your mattress and wrap it around your shoulders, breathing him in as you sit on your bed and try your best not to keep checking your phone. When it finally vibrates you're not even embarrassed when you pick up on the first ring.

"Hey," you murmur, settling into your sheets and closing your eyes, "Is everything okay?"

"With me?" he asks, voice tired and gruff, "Thought it'd be the other way around."

Your brow furrows, "What do you mean?"

"Thought you'd wanna talk about this church volunteerin' stuff," he's moving around as he talks - you hear the sound of a cupboard banging and the clang of a glass against a countertop.

You don't speak for a moment, listening to the sound of liquid being poured into a cup and Joel taking a swig. There's no sound of the tap - you'd be willing to bet that it's not water he's drinking.

"No, I..." you frown, "I was worried about you."

You hear him take another sip, swallowing loudly and then placing the cup back down with a clink. More pouring. You swear you hear the faint sound of a chuckle before he takes another swig.

"Well that's silly," he states, and you suddenly notice there's a strange difference in his voice, a heaviness you're not used to.

"Are you drunk?"

He chuckles again but there's no humor in it, "Nowhere near as drunk as I'd like to be."

You frown, readjusting yourself against the pillows. You hear him take another sip, "Did something happen?"

He sighs then, deep and tired. You hear him put the glass back down on the counter, "No, babygirl, nothin' happened," hearing him say your pet name makes you feel a little better, the anxiety ebbing away a bit, "It's just that my job is the bane of my fuckin' existence."

He sounds genuinely exhausted, words tinged with resentment. You pull his flannel tighter around yourself, breathe him in, pretend you're in the same room as him, "Talk to me," you say softly, "Tell me what's wrong."

He doesn't reply for a moment - you can make out some footsteps on the other end, the creak of his stairs as he goes up to his bedroom, "No, darlin', it's nothin'. Shouldn't be talkin' about this with you."

"Hey, if something's bothering you, I wanna hear about it. I wanna make it better... if I can."

You hear him settle onto his bed, a satisfied little noise emanating from his throat that makes you smile, "That's the thing, babygirl. You can't. This is just the way life works. You do shit you hate and then you die, plain and simple."

"Joel," you admonish quietly - it's the first time you've said his name aloud since last weekend, it feels right on your lips, safe. He sighs but doesn't say anything else, breath evening out in your ear. "What is it? Really? I've been worrying about it all week."

"Oh honey," he murmurs softly. "Shouldn't be worryin' about me, there are more important things."

"Not to me," you admit, closing your eyes and shaking your head even though he can't see you, "First I thought maybe you were just busy, but-"

"Busy," he scoffs, "Right, yeah, busy. That's my middle name at this point. Fuckin' busy."

He really doesn't sound like himself - you know you still don't know him very well at this point, could be wrong about so many things, but part of you just knows that this isn't Joel. You know his softness, his safety, his kind eyes and crooked smile. This version of him sounds so sad; you can't help but wish you were in his bed right now, able to hold him close and run your fingers through his grey curls. You want him to open up to you.

"You don't wanna hear this shit, angel, you don't," he continues, voice gentler this time, "I know you're thinkin' somethin' is wrong, thinkin' somethin' in particular happened to make me feel like this, but the truth is..." he sighs again, deliberates for a moment and then simply states, "Truth is I'm just bein' stupid."

"You're not stupid," you say immediately, and he chuckles.

"God, you're so sweet, babygirl," he murmurs softly, "It's nice to hear your voice."

Your feel your skin heat up at the words, crossing your legs together unconsciously, "It's nice to hear yours too," you whisper with a smile, "I've missed you this week. Every time you've texted me it's felt like it's not really you."

"I'm sorry, baby," you can hear the sincerity in his voice buried underneath the tiredness and alcohol, "I'm just... I'm a mess." You hear him shuffle a bit in bed, like he's turning onto his side, "Work is always puttin' me in a shitty mood lately and I just...I don't want you to see this side of me."

"But why?"

Another sigh, then-

"'Cause I don't want you to look at me differently."

You bring the sleeve of his flannel to your lips, "I could never look at you differently, Joel," you whisper, "Promise."

He's quiet for a moment and you hope you haven't upset him, hope he's just thinking about what to say. You mean your words; it really would take a lot for you to look at him differently. You know you probably shouldn't feel that way considering you've known him less than a month, that the feeling should scare you... but it doesn't.

"I'm tired, angel," he finally says, voice sad and distant, "I'm too old to be doin' this job."

You wait for him to speak again, listening as he takes a shaky breath on the other end of the line, almost like he hasn't told anyone this. And maybe he hasn't.

"But it's hard to admit that to myself," he continues, "And even harder to admit it to you of all people. I don't want you to see some washed up, tired, old geezer, ya know?" he says it with humor but you can tell that he means it, "I mean I used to... god, I used to be able to do shifts like this no problem. Be up at five and home by midnight and able to do it all over again the next day. Now it's like I'm runnin' on a half empty tank of gas. Got no joy in this job anymore and my back is killin' me and-" he cuts himself off suddenly, "And I need to shut the fuck up before I scare you away."

"You're not gonna scare me away," you whisper, and you mean it, "I'm not going anywhere."

He laughs softly to himself; you're not sure if he believes you, but you're choosing to hope that he does, "Ya know, I didn't even wanna tell you my age when we were first together? I wasn't gonna tell you, I really wasn't. But then you were so sweet and vulnerable and honest with me-"

You scoff, "Yeah, lying about knowing how to play guitar, that's certainly honesty."

"That's not what I mean and you know it," he chastises - you can hear the sudden smile in his voice, "No, darlin'... when you told me you hadn't done anythin' before. That's when I knew I had to tell you, 'cause it wouldn't have been right otherwise," he makes an odd noise in his throat and then corrects, "Not that any of this is really right, but..."

"It feels right," you say softly, staring down at the plaid lines on the flannel shirt shrouding your body, reminding you of what it means - that you're his.

"It does," he agrees, voice rough and low, "Right and wrong in all the right ways, huh babygirl?"

You nod to yourself, unable to help the grin that spreads across your face, "Exactly."

The both of you are silent for a few moments but just like last weekend, it isn't uncomfortable or awkward. It's calming and safe, just listening to each other's breathing. You can tell he's tired, can hear it in his slow exhales; again, you can't help but wish you were lying beside him. And you can't help but wonder if a more sober Joel would have even said any of this to you, would have just kept it to himself and continued to deal with it in silence, not bothering to tell anyone how he's been feeling. It breaks your heart a little bit.

"It'll be okay," you whisper gently, soothingly, "It won't be like this forever, Joel."

He sighs, deep and sleepy, "You really are an angel," he murmurs, "So sweet and lovely, babygirl. Love hearin' you say my name like that."

His words send warmth throughout your body - no one has ever spoken to you the way Joel speaks to you, makes you feel the way he makes you feel. You close your eyes and bury your face in the sleeve of his flannel, listen as his breathing gets slow again.

"You should get some sleep," you whisper, even though you really don't want to end the call - but Joel is tired and you want him to feel better, "Text me tomorrow, okay? Even if you're grumpy."

He almost laughs but he's so close to sleep that it comes out slurred and low, "Okay, baby, I will. Promise."

"Goodnight, J-"

"Wait wait wait," he suddenly sounds a bit more alert, rousing himself from sleep, "You didn't tell me 'bout this church thing. You okay with it?"

You giggle at his sudden concern, "It's nothing, really. Just helping an old friend out with lesson plans for Sunday School. Not very exciting."

"Fun," his voice is sleepy and low again, "What're you gonna wear?"

You have to bite down on your lip to stifle another laugh, shaking your head even though he can't see you, "Go to bed, you perv."

He chuckles, "Okay, okay. Goodnight, angel."

"Goodnight, Joel."

You're about to end the call when you hear him murmur one final thing, so soft you're surprised you can even make it out - but you do:

"Hope I dream about you."

You fall asleep with a smile glued to your lips.

You end up wearing the same outfit you'd worn to Joel's last Saturday, though you leave the stockings at home; you doubt the women at church will be offended by your bare legs. You fasten your crucifix around your neck and make sure your mom gets a good look at you before you leave the house; you haven't spoken since yesterday afternoon but you still want her to see you're putting in some effort, as surface level as it may be.

She's in the living room when you come down the stairs, and her expression can't help but turn to one of surprise when she looks up from her book to see you standing there in your Sunday best.

"I'm going to the church," you explain softly, "Gonna help out Bethany with the lesson plan for Sunday School."

She assesses you up and down, eyes fixing on your crucifix for a moment before trailing back down to her book. She doesn't say a word.

Silent treatment. Typical.

Fifteen minutes later you find yourself being greeted by Bethany, blonde hair flowing down her dress as she stands outside the church with a bright smile plastered on her face. You recognize the forced expression immediately, one that you yourself have become an expert in feigning, though for different reasons. You haven't seen her in years but you still know her well enough to tell when she's less than thrilled about something - this time that "something" is you being there.

"I'm so excited you're here!" she tells you, voice shrill as she immediately takes a step forward to envelop you in a haphazard hug that feels neither excited nor genuine.

You should have known it would be like this. When you'd left for college a few years ago you'd promised to keep in touch with both Alice and Bethany, the only "solid" friends you'd managed to keep throughout all the studying, the tutoring, the church services, the extracurriculars, volunteering, etc. It's a miracle in itself that your friendship had even lasted through high school, if you're being honest. You'd begun to distance yourself from them a bit in those final years as you started to lose your faith while theirs only seemed to grow stronger. Leaving for college had been the last nail in the coffin.

"Me too!" you lie, feigning a similar smile as you both pull back from each other.

Though her grin is unrelenting, you can see the distance in her eyes, the sourness and disdain for your presence extremely evident. She doesn't like you. There's an awkward few seconds of silence where she assesses you up and down again, like she had at the service on Sunday.

Why did you even say yes to me coming here? You want to ask as you stand in front of her awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. If you didn't want me here you could have just said there wasn't anything for me to do. But you already know why you'd still been invited despite her obvious disdain for you - keeping up appearances means everything to these people; actually being honest about her feelings would have been disastrous for her reputation.

"Was sure you'd forgotten all about me," she finally says with an edge of malice still shrouded through her smile, "Haven't heard from you in what? Three years? And then you just show up outta the blue, huh?"

You grimace, "Uh, yeah, sorry about that. There was... I mean, I've just had a lot going on, I guess." You kick your feet awkwardly; this is not the conversation you want to be having right now.

"A lot goin' on, huh?" she echoes, eyes still scanning you up and down, "Right. Busy with college?"

You nod quickly, "Yeah, it's been kinda crazy."

She raises an eyebrow, "What are you studyin' again?"

"English Lit."

She snorts then, shaking her head and taking a step back, "Right. Reading. Sure sounds crazy."

Your brow furrows, "It's more than that."

"Oh, I'm sure it is," she puts her hands up in defense, fake laughing and smacking her lips together, "Just find it funny that an English Lit degree takes up so much of your time." She's being pretty bold with the sarcasm but you suppose she has a right to be angry, though you'd never assumed she'd be this pissed about you cutting her off, "Anyway, we should get inside, they're waitin' for us."

"Bethany," you take a step toward her, softening your expression, "I'm really sorry."

She just shakes her head again and turns away from you to reach for the handle on the front door, forced smile finally fading into a natural frown, "Forget it."

Great start.

You don't talk much after that, not after you're led into a side room off the chapel where a few other women are sitting in a circle with binders in their laps. Bethany simply gestures for you sit down in an empty chair and the meeting begins. Everyone immediately begins their rapport, discussing their plans and reading quotes aloud from their binders while you just kind of sit there unsure of what to do or say. A few of the women give you a tentative smile or two, but the way Bethany periodically glares at you is enough to keep them from actually speaking to you directly. You're okay with it though; as awkward as this is, you'd rather sit in silence than have to pretend. Still, if you'd known it would be like this you never would have come - it's not like your mother appreciates it anyway.

Your phone vibrates at one point, a text from Tasha confirming her flight information with lots of !!!!!!'s that make you smile. As if sensing your sudden mood shift, Bethany puts her hands up with another grin that doesn't reach her eyes.

"We keep phones in our purses" she says sweetly, "So we don't get distracted."

You nod and slip it back inside your bag, a gesture that's more of a peace offering than anything else; it seems to appease her.

It's strange being inside this part of the church again after so long. You'd attended your own Sunday School lessons here, prepped for choir and readings, learned your scripture. It certainly doesn't feel as safe or inviting as it once did, though you have to admit that there was always an undercurrent of pressure, of judgement - an energy that still remains today. Bethany watches you closely, quietly assessing you as you nod along to everyone's suggestions and ideas and try to keep up your long-time façade of obedience. You push down the new parts of you that long to take back a bit of control, maybe say something shocking or suggest something ridiculous just to see how they'd react.

You've been sitting in silence for about forty five minutes when Bethany announces its time for a quick phone break. Like clockwork everyone in the room pulls out their devices and starts checking for missed calls from their kids, their husbands. You pull yours out and your eyebrows go up in surprise when you see a text from Joel on your lockscreen:

How's your day going angel?

He didn't forget his promise. A smile plays at your lips as you start typing out your reply, but it quickly fades when you feel Bethany's eyes on you, watching.

"I'm, uh-" you stand up, smoothing out the creases in your dress and gripping your phone tightly, "I'm gonna take a bathroom break."

The bathroom is the same as you remember it, high ceilings and white walls, your footsteps echoing loudly as you walk over to the sinks and lean your back against the countertop. You continue typing out your reply to Joel:

well all the church ladies are giving me the silent treatment til i'm worthy of being here again lol. but jokes on them cause my mom is also giving me the silent treatment so i have training! anyway i miss you. wanna hug you. hope you're feeling a bit better today 💕

You turn around and face the mirror while you wait for his reply. You're still smiling - it's impossible not to when you're thinking about Joel, but this smile is bright and genuine, unlike the forced grins you've been sharing with Bethany for the past hour. God, you can't remember the last time anything made you feel as free and happy as Joel makes you, like nothing else really matters. Your phone buzzes and you tear your eyes away from the mirror to read his reply:

Aw baby I'm sorry. I wanna hug you too. Wanna do a bit more than hug if I'm being honest, but you know that already.

You bring your other hand up to your mouth, smiling even wider into it as his typing bubble pops up again only seconds later:

And I'm sorry about last night. If I said anything stupid please forget it ever happened. Me and alcohol don't mix that well sometimes. I'm alright, don't worry about me x

But I do worry, you want to say, I want to make you feel better. But how can you do that from a church bathroom, miles away from wherever he is right now? You're suddenly reminded of something he'd told you a few weeks ago, something you hadn't quite understood in the moment - You can text me whenever you want, tell me all about what you're doin', brighten up my workday. Maybe send me some pictures.

Oh.

You look at yourself in the mirror again and carefully place your phone down on the edge of the sink. Your hand slowly comes up to push aside the collar of your dress, pull the stretchy material past your shoulder and down your arm. You do the same to the other side, slipping out of your sleeves and tugging down the high neckline of your dress to expose your bare chest to the mirror, putting your cleavage on display. You bite your lip, willing yourself to see what Joel sees, a pretty girl in a pretty dress, bra straps clinging to her skin and a crucifix hanging from her throat. Filthy.

You grab your phone and turn it toward the mirror, opening up your camera app and moving it close enough so he can see only your torso, sleeves hanging limp at your sides while your other arm comes up to squeeze your breasts together a bit, accentuating your cleavage even more. You snap a pic and send it to him before you can talk yourself out of it.

He replies seconds later:

Fuck

A grin spreads across your face and you make quick work of slipping your bra straps down your shoulders as well, just as another text from him comes in:

Send me another baby. Please.

Already one step ahead of you, you think to yourself as your cheeks warm and you pull down the cups of your bra, your breasts spilling out into the cool air of the bathroom. You squeeze them together again, nipples hardening tightly as you take another picture and send it along with a coy message:

better?

He must be staring at his phone, waiting for it, because his typing bubble appears instantaneously. You can't help but feel a sense of pride at the power you're holding right now, a change of pace from your usual naivety.

Oh babygirl. This is just what I needed.

i know :)

You glance at the bathroom door and then at the time - you still have a few minutes before the meeting starts up again and your mind is already racing with what you can do with those few minutes. With barely any hesitation you tug your dress up over your thighs, pulling your panties to the side and aiming your phone underneath. You frown when you pull your phone back up to find that it's dark and blurry.

"Hold on," you whisper to no one, then carefully lift your leg and place your heel on the countertop for support, pulling your dress up again and aiming your phone a little better. You pull back your panties and aren't surprised in the slightest to feel that they're suddenly damp.

This picture comes out much better. Your pussy is bare and a little wet, clit poking out past your lips, panties pulled against your inner thigh. You already know it's gonna make him crazy as you hit send.

Jesus Christ

He's already typing something else when you receive it and you can't help but giggle, covering your mouth and trying to picture where he is right now, what he's doing. Is he in a bathroom too? On a break? Or is he in the middle of a job, surrounded by other people? The latter thought makes you even wetter somehow.

Fuck you have such a pretty pussy baby.

thank you mr. miller :)

Will you hold her open a little for me? Show me that sweet little hole?

Who are you to deny such a request? With heat radiating all over your body you bring your phone down again and scissor your lips apart, exposing the innermost part of yourself to your phone camera. You can feel your own slick on the tips of your fingers, and when you push yourself open you feel a bit of your wetness dribble down onto your palm. Fuck. This is hotter than you'd expected it would be. You'd thought it would be a good way to make him feel better, get him through his work day like he'd said; you never thought you'd enjoy it this much.

Oh sweetheart. Look at that.

You feel another rush of pride as you take your leg down from the counter and tug your dress back down, rubbing your thighs together and doing everything in your power not to touch yourself again even though you want to. A quiet whimper unconsciously tears itself past your lips at his follow-up message:

Who's that perfect pussy belong to babygirl?

You've never typed a message back so fast in your life.

you. it's yours mr. miller.

That's right. Good girl.

Your skin is on fire, body tingling in all the right places. You smooth a hand down your bare chest, cup one of your breasts, gently squeeze. It's impossible for your eyes not to roll back a bit when you imagine Joel's hand on you instead, big and firm and callused and perfect. Your pussy throbs in your underwear and another whimper slips past your lips.

i'm really wet now :(

I know angel. Come over tonight and I'll take care of it, Ok?

Your heart leaps at the invitation, even more wetness pooling in your panties at the thought of what Joel might want to do tonight, if there's another “lesson” he has in mind.

yes please

Eyeing the time again, you bite your lip in disappointment when you realize you should probably be getting back. You wait until Joel has finished typing his final response, a message that makes your skin burn with anticipation:

Don't touch yourself til you see me. Keep that soft little pussy hidden, baby. Promise me.

i promise x

Just as you hit send you suddenly hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps down the hall, quickly approaching the bathroom. Your eyes widen in the mirror, gaze snapping to your bare breasts, sleeves still hanging loosely at your sides. In a panic you hurriedly attempt to stuff yourself back into your bra before you have company – but you're not that lucky.

The bathroom door bangs open and you freeze with one arm halfway through your sleeve, breasts still completely exposed in the mirror as you turn on the spot to see none other than Bethany standing there, frozen in place.

“I-” she looks flabbergasted, expression one of pure horror as she takes a step back from you and grips the knob of the door like she could rip it off at any moment. Your free arm that isn't trapped in a sleeve comes up to cover yourself as best you can, but you know she's already seen everything.

“I'm- I was just-” You're similarly taken aback and at a complete loss for words, unsure how the fuck you can explain what exactly she's just walked in on.

Her eyes fall to the phone in your hand, like she's putting the pieces together, then she shakily takes another step back and leaves without saying another word, the click of her heels echoing back at you loudly until the door finishes closing behind her.

Shit.

You don't have time to stand around thinking up an excuse; you do briefly consider escaping through one of the windows to avoid facing her, but you know it would just delay the inevitable. Instead you hastily finish pulling your dress back on and stare at yourself in the mirror for one final moment.

Your smile is gone. So is the light in your eyes. You suddenly begin to feel that familiar sense of guilt creeping in, the shame, the sin. You blink a few times and find that there are tears welling up in your eyes, a lump in your throat. A tiny voice in the back of your mind, one you've been attempting to mute for years, whispers to you: What have you done?

Bethany doesn't speak to or look at you for the rest of the meeting. It's not much of a change from before you'd gone to the bathroom, but there's something new in her silence now, something you can see in her eyes as she stares down at her binder while the other women talk. Fear. You've known her for most of your life, can sense certain mood changes from a mile away; you've frightened her. And somehow that just adds even more to the guilt building in your stomach.

You'll apologize to her after the meeting, it's all you can do. You genuinely feel horrible that she'd walked in on something so private, seen something she never intended or desired to ever see. You wonder if there's anything you can use to pass off as an excuse; maybe you spilled something on your dress and were cleaning it off? Maybe it was too tight and you needed a breather? Anything is better than the alternative – the truth – but you somehow doubt she'll believe anything you say at this point. That bridge was broken the second you left for college; there's no repairing it now.

The meeting ends with a few pleasantries exchanged and several comments about picking kids up from school, getting home to cook something for dinner, normal things that remind you how abnormal your own situation is in comparison. Half an hour ago you'd felt on top of the world, in control, had power in the tips of your fingers. Now you just feel small again, inconsequential.

You wait until the other ladies have left before taking a step toward Bethany, ready to unload your apologies and beg for forgiveness. She surprises you by speaking first.

"I'd think twice before wearing that again,” she hisses at you, venomous and pointed. Your eyes widen.

"Excuse me?"

"I said,” her words are slow and full of bitter intention, eyes glaring daggers at you, “I'd think twice before wearing that again" she gestures to the crucifix around your neck and you unconsciously reach up to take it between your fingers, glancing down at it before looking back up to meet her angry gaze.

“I'm...” you feel overwhelmed, tears pricking in your eyes again at the sudden burst of rage being directed at you, “I don't...”

"You might not understand this,” she practically spits through her teeth, “but that symbol actually means something to the people here."

"I know what it means.” It comes out as barely a whisper, voice shaky as she takes an intimidating step toward you with nothing but malice in her expression.

"So that's why you've got your breasts out in a public bathroom? A church bathroom?”

“Bethany, I-”

“You're not welcome here anymore, understand?” her voice is full of finality, “You can come to church with your parents-” The mention of your parents sends your anxiety into a tailspin, heart beating frantically in your chest as she continues to step closer and closer toward you, “And you can pretend you're their good little girl. But I know the truth. And it's not welcome in my Sunday School ever again. Got it?”

My Sunday school. The superiority complex is strong and you know deep down that this is all completely rooted in her own fears, her own desires, her pride, but none of that seems to matter when she's staring you down like this, holding you captive with her hostile words.

"Got it,” you whisper, nodding shakily.

"Good. Now go home and take," she points toward the crucifix, the tip of her finger close enough to faintly brush against the shape of it, “that,” she suddenly prods it, giving you one final sneer, “off.”

It takes you twenty minutes to leave the parking lot after that, tears blurring your vision as you cry in your car and try not to let the shame completely envelop you.

Going to Joel's that night carries none of the anticipation you'd felt earlier this afternoon; instead you feel nothing but shame as you steal your mother's house key from its dish in the hallway, closing the front door behind you as softly as you can and hurrying out into the night. There's no excitement or rush like the last time you'd done this. You feel like you could cry at any moment as you approach Joel's house, climbing his front steps with a heavy weight on your shoulders that wasn't there before, that hasn't been there in weeks.

The door opens before you can even turn the knob – he must have been watching from his window, waiting for you in anticipation for tonight's “lesson”. Your stomach lurches.

“There's my little Sunday School girl,” he murmurs, taking your hand and tugging you gently inside.

“Please don't call me that,” you say quietly, head down.

He shuts the door behind you and takes your hands in his – you can feel his eyes on you but you're unsure of the look on his face, what expression is on it. Does he sense there's something wrong? Or is he waiting for you to jump his bones?

“Hey,” his voice is soft, concerned, “Hey, look at me, sweetheart.”

You shake your head, still staring at the floor.

“What happened, babygirl?” he murmurs, one of his hands releasing yours to come up and stroke your cheek gently, thumb grazing the wetness beneath your eyes, “Why're you cryin', darlin'? C'mere.” His finger travels down to your chin, pushes your face up to look at him.

His expression is worried, brow furrowed and forehead creased, a frown playing at his lips. You feel your heartbeat slow, the weight on your shoulders decreasing just a little bit as safety settles in your bones. He cares.

“I had a horrible day,” you whisper, feeling tears trickle down into the corners of your mouth, “I know you want to...want to...” you shake your head, “Whatever we were gonna do. But I don't think I can tonight, Joel. I don't feel good.”

“Oh, babygirl,” he breathes, releasing your chin and immediately wrapping you up in his embrace, arms tightening around you as he pulls you against his chest, “We don't have to do anythin', don't even worry about that.”

You bury your face in his chest, breathe him in. His flannel underneath your mattress is nothing compared to the real thing, the real smell of him overtaking your senses and filling you with a true feeling of warmth and safety. His arms are so big – he's so big – and without meaning to you find yourself going completely limp in his arms, bones turning to jelly. It's like finally breathing in the fresh air after holding your breath underwater, a natural reaction to finally being where you belong.

He doesn't question your body's response, almost seems to understand completely as he pulls you up from the floor and adjusts you slightly to cradle you in his arms, carrying you past the living room, past the kitchen, up the stairs and to his bedroom. You just close your eyes and bury your face in his shirt, inhale the scent of sawdust and sweat and cedar and Joel.

He tips you gently onto his bed, presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before settling in beside you without saying anything. You feel his arm wrap around you, tug you in closer beside him as he noses your hair and lets you just exist.

Minutes pass before you finally break the comfortable silence, voice quiet and small - “I feel so ashamed.”

You feel his brow furrow in your hair and you turn around to face him, bringing your arm up around his torso and pressing your hand firmly against his back. He looks at you with confusion, concern.

You tell him everything. About Bethany, your friendship with her and Alice before you left for college, the way you'd already begun to lose your faith even then. You tell him about your mom, about the silent treatment and her reaction to the white lie, the lie that's practically nothing in the grand scheme of deceit you've been weaving these past few weeks. You talk about church and Sunday School and all the guilt you'd felt in that little room growing up, how being there again felt wrong and uncomfortable. You tell him how free you'd felt in the bathroom with your camera, the power you'd felt, reclaimed, and how all of it had been snatched away from you the second Bethany had entered. How she'd destroyed any semblance of confidence you'd been able to find today, how she'd shamed you for the crucifix that you don't even want to be wearing. It's the most you've ever told him, the most you've ever talked to him about anything.

And he listens.

He doesn't seem put out by your venting, annoyed or irritated or ready to send you home at any minute. He just nods, frowns at the right moments, strokes your arm and your cheek, kisses your forehead when you start to cry. Wipes the tears away when you apologize for crying. He stays with you and remains present and attentive, lets you talk and talk until you start to apologize for how much you've been talking.

“I know this isn't even what you signed up for,” you blubber, shaking your head and bringing your hands up to cover your face, “I'm sorry I keep bringing so much- so many complications into your life.”

“Shh,” he soothes, placing his large hands on yours and pulling them away from your tired eyes, leaning in to brush his nose against yours, “Stop apologizin', baby. Stop. You've got nothin' to be sorry for.”

You suddenly sit up in bed, leaning back against the headboard and bringing a hand up to touch the crucifix still clasped around your neck. You hadn't taken it off like she'd told you to do; you'd felt like doing so would have made you weak, would have been like giving up, even though you'd never wanted to even wear it again in the first place.

“Why does this little thing have so much fucking power over me?” you ask aloud, not directed at Joel but more-so to yourself, “My whole life, no one has ever seen me, they've just seen this.” You shake your head, squeezing the tiny cross in your hand. “And wearing it again has just brought all that shit back, it's done absolutely nothing good. Wore it for my mom and she still gives me the silent treatment. Wore it for Bethany and she still treats me like garbage, tells me to take it off. It's just a fucking necklace.”

Joel sits up beside you, places a warm hand on your thigh and peers at you with those soft brown eyes, lulling you back into a sense of calm, of serenity.

“Give it to me,” he says quietly.

Your brow furrows in confusion. You stare at him for a moment, then watch as he carefully brings his hands up to graze his callused fingertips against your neck, brushing the chain.

“I'll take it off your hands for a bit,” he murmurs, “Outta sight, outta mind. And if you want it back, I'll have it ready for you. How's that sound?”

You nod slowly to yourself, feeling your eyes begin to sting again at his words, “...Good. Th-that sounds good.”

Without saying anything else you hear the sound of the clasp being undone, feel the chain slip away from your skin as Joel takes it from you. You turn your head to watch as he fists it in his palm for a moment, gaze thoughtful and faraway as he traces the shape of the cross with his thumb. A few seconds later he opens his bedside table and carefully places it inside, then shuts the drawer.

And just like that, the weight is gone.

You take a shower in his bathroom again, wanting to wash this day off you and start over, clean slate. You could have had one when you got home from the meeting earlier but you'd instead opted to just lay in bed feeling sorry for yourself for much longer than you'd needed to. Now you close your eyes and let the hot water envelop you, wash yourself with Joel's body wash and allow yourself to become his again, picturing him laying in his bed in the other room, waiting for you. This is what matters. This moment. Right now.

You enter his bedroom wrapped in one of his towels, drops of water still spilling down your skin onto the hardwood floor. He's sitting up in bed, shirtless with his legs hidden under the covers. He's seemingly deep in thought as he stares at his phone screen, brows scrunched together. You watch as he pulls the phone away from himself, eyes squinting and lips parting a bit, then pulls it back, like he can't see what he's looking at properly. You realize that's probably the case.

“You need glasses,” you say with a soft giggle, and his expression relaxes when he sees you standing there, phone going back on his nightstand.

“I have glasses,” he admits sheepishly, giving you a tender smile, “Just hate wearin' 'em.”

“Of course,” you roll your eyes and take a few steps forward, still gripping the towel around yourself. His eyes fall to the parts of you that are bare, revelling in the way the lamplight reflects on your wet skin. You feel tingles erupt through your senses under his gaze.

“Are you naked?” you ask softly.

He shakes his head, “Wearin' pants, don't worry.”

You stand there for a moment, staring. He just stares back, eyebrows going up a bit while he waits for you to say something else. When you don't, he tilts his head slightly, appraising you.

“Do you want me to be naked, babygirl?”

You're answering before you even really know what you want, "Yes."

Without needing to be told twice he reaches under the covers with both hands and shimmies his way out of his pajama bottoms, staying hidden under the sheets as he tosses them out onto the floor. You bite your lip, still just standing there staring at him without moving. You're still dripping everywhere, a little puddle of water forming at your feet the longer you stay frozen.

He raises his finger and playfully curls it toward himself with a smile, "C'mere, baby," he murmurs, "Be naked with me."

You don't need telling twice either.

The towel drops from your body, landing in the puddle of water on the floor - easy cleanup. You feel heat radiating through every inch of your bare skin as you walk toward the bed, avoiding Joel's eyes and quickly slipping in beside him. You really don't know what you're doing - you'd said when you got here that you didn't want to do anything, not tonight, and it's still true. But part of you just aches to be close to Joel, to feel his warm heat, his rough skin, be connected to him somehow. It's what you've wanted all week.

You inch in beside him, back against the headboard, your bare thigh touching his lightly beneath the sheets, and you find yourself tensing up unconsciously. He clocks your reaction immediately.

"You don't gotta be nervous, angel," he tells you softly, soothingly.

You swallow and take a deep breath, "It's hard not to be," you whisper, though there's no reason to, "I'm just... I'm so..."

"What?" he asks, brown eyes seeking yours in the dim light. His hand comes up to cradle your face, thumb swiping beneath your eye again like he's checking for more tears - luckily you're feeling much better in that department.

You sigh, shrugging slightly, "I don't know what I'm doing," your eyes fall down to the duvet, knowing that if you pulled it back you'd see your bodies touching underneath, his rough and tan skin pressed against yours, soft and untouched, "I mean, I don't even know why I came tonight. I knew I didn't- that I didn't want to-" you sigh again in frustration, unable to find the right words, "I just... I missed you," your eyes travel back up to meet his, "I just wanted to be near you."

His expression softens, still stroking your cheek as he peers into your eyes, "You feel safe with me, don't you?" You nod. "You know I won't do anythin' you don't want me to do, right?" Another nod. "So it's okay to just relax when you're with me."

You grimace, "How can I relax when we're naked in bed together?"

He chuckles, dropping his hand from your face and shuffling down into the bed a bit, away from the headboard, "Okay, time for another lesson."

You feel your heart sink again, worried that he's not understanding - probably because you can't explain it right - but he smiles reassuringly at you and curls his finger slightly, urging you to follow him downwards. With a quiet inhale you slowly inch away from the headboard and further down into the bed, beneath the duvet. You both stop moving when your heads hit the pillows, laying down fully beside each other.

"Gettin' naked doesn't always mean there has to be sex," he says softly, and you watch as he very slowly brings his hand down beneath the duvet; you know where it's going before it touches you, but you still shiver when you feel his fingers brush lightly against your bare arm, "Us bein' naked in bed together doesn't mean anythin' has to happen."

"But earlier today I said..." you trail off, shaking your head, "I promised that-"

"Earlier is earlier," he brushes your arm again, tender and comforting, "Circumstances change, your day got shitty. Mine was no better. It happens."

His hand travels downward, toward the skin of your hip. He curls his palm around your bare flesh and gently massages it, thumb stroking the edge of your tummy. It's intimate and new, but somehow it feels more safe and comforting than sexual, like he's simply doing something casual, normal.

"Sometimes you just wanna lay in bed with someone" he murmurs, still touching you tenderly, "No expectations, no pressure. No nothin'. Sure, it's fun to touch each other and be together like that, but if you just wanna sleep..." his fingertips brush your back gently, then press firmly into your skin as he pulls you a bit closer toward him, "If you just wanna lay here with me, that's okay too."

You're not sure what to think, staring at him with a million different thoughts flooding your mind. Your interpretation of what men want has always been a bit of a grey area, but you've heard enough from both your family and your friends to know that most of them are just after one thing. You'd heard it from your parents your whole life who always warned about non-Christian boys and their sinful thoughts, then from the girls at college who dealt with disrespect and catcalls, men who turned on them in an instant the second they realized they weren't getting any.

Joel isn't like that. Sure, he wants sex - that's been obvious since day one, when he'd invited you inside his house within minutes of meeting you. He'd only had one thing on his mind, just like your parents had always said. But he hadn't thrown a fit when you'd said no, and up until this point he's made it abundantly clear that the ball is in your court, that it's up to you what happens between the two of you.

"I know all this stuff can be scary," he continues softly when you don't reply, "I know you're embarrassed about bein' so inexperienced, but you don't need to be. I'm here to make it easier for you; I want you to be comfortable."

He nudges forward a bit and slowly begins to wrap his arms around you, warm and inviting. You let him, body going loose and comfortable in his grasp as you feel your eyes close; safe. You feel so safe.

"You're so warm," is all you can think to say, loving the way it feels to have his broad and hairy chest pressed up against your bare breasts, his big and strong arms winding around your smaller form.

He chuckles softly and you feel him press a gentle kiss to your cheek, beard scratching your skin in your favorite way. You bring your arms up and hug him back beneath the blankets, feeling your naked thighs press firmly against his. You're aware of his cock - it's hard not to be, not when it's pressed gently against the base of your tummy, soft against your skin - but he doesn't rub himself against you or do anything to initiate more than this, more than just being together like he'd said.

He really means it, you know he does.

"I can't wait to have sex with you," you hear yourself whisper in his ear; it sounds dirty but you don't mean it to be, "I just...I'm really glad it's gonna be you."

And I'm pretty sure I'm falling for you.

You wake up the next morning to a firm and solid presence at your back, bare and warm and comfy. You're surprised you're awake before Joel's alarm, wondering what exactly woke you up in the first place - and then you feel it. Something wet and sticky against your lower back, something pulsing and twitching every so often against your skin.

Good morning.

He hadn't pressed his cock against you like this last night when you were cuddling, hadn't asked you to touch it or even acknowledged its presence. But sleeping Joel is an entirely different person, his big arms wrapped around you tightly, one splayed across your belly while the other holds your right breast, cups it like it's meant to fit there. He holds you in place firmly, breath at your neck, nose in your hair.

You're not sure how much time you have left before his alarm goes off. The sun is only barely starting to come up outside the window, so it could start ringing at any time now. All you know is that the sensation of having him so close to you like this, his most intimate part so close to yours, so wet and warm, it's making you all wet and warm. Your skin almost feels itchy, especially at your neck where his warm breath leaves a damp spot beneath your ear, a spot you're suddenly longing for him to kiss, to lick.

"Joel," you breathe, unable to wait any longer, scared that at any moment he'll have to leave the bed and start getting ready for work.

No response.

"Joel," you repeat, a bit louder this time, and with his name you carefully grind back against him a little bit, the wet head of his cock trailing back and forth against your warm skin. He makes a grumbling noise in his chest, pulls you in a bit closer, "Joel, wake up," you moan, painfully aware of the shape of his balls against your ass, big and heavy and suddenly the hottest thing you've ever felt in your life.

"What?" he groans, rousing from sleep, "What is it?"

It's all the confirmation of awareness you need to suddenly turn in the sheets, bring the duvet down to expose your naked bodies to the both of you. His eyes are bleary and tired as he watches you from beneath heavy eyelids, sees where your gaze has settled.

His cock lays long and thick and loose against his tummy, round tip drooling precum into the hair smattered above his belly button. God, he's so big. Your lips part, saliva filling your mouth like it had the last time you saw it, like somehow your body knows exactly what the next step is.

"I wanna put my mouth on it," you whisper, pushing your hair back behind your ears and turning your gaze back to Joel's face, "Please."

His eyebrows go up in surprise, eyelashes fluttering with sleep. He's probably wondering where this is coming from, how the girl in his bed right now is the same one who just wanted to be held last night, but he doesn't seem to be complaining. He nods quickly, stretches his arms above his head and tries to rouse himself even more from sleep.

"Of course you can, baby," he mutters huskily, voice deep and dripping with arousal, "Go ahead."

"Tell me if I'm doing something wrong," you murmur softly, and before you can even fully process what you're doing or question if you'll even be good at it, your lips are pressing against the warm heat of his wet tip.

He hisses immediately and you pull back, frightened for a moment that you've already fucked up somehow. He shakes his head quickly at you, "No, no, you're good baby, that's good," one of his hands comes down to settle against the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your hair, "Give it a kiss, just like that."

And you do. Time is already not on your side - you feel like there's a countdown clock hanging over your head as you press another kiss in the same spot, his precum sticky on your lips. You'd thought it might be gross, had heard lots about blowjobs from your friends and how unpleasant they can be, but when your tongue darts out to carefully prod against where he's leaking, you find that it doesn't bother you that much at all.

"Tastes funny," you murmur softly, peppering a few more kisses around the wide head and then down to his shaft, thumbing the prominent vein on the underside as you do it.

"Kinda gross, huh?" you hear him say softly above you, a strained edge to his voice that makes you smile against him.

"I think I like it, actually," you admit softly, tongue darting out once again to slowly lap up a bead at the tip. You're not lying; there's something masculine and sexy and inherently Joel about it, something you hadn't been expecting.

"That's good, sweetheart," he murmurs, stroking the back of your head gently, "That's so good, angel." You don't know whether he means your opinion on the taste or simply a reaction to the things you're doing with your tongue, but either way you keep going, hoping that the alarm doesn't interrupt you.

You wrap your lips around the tip carefully, pulling it into your mouth and sucking it gently - very gently. He makes a breathless sound above you and you can't help but bring your gaze up to his face, your eyes meeting his as you swallow him down.

"That's it, that's a good girl," he breathes, thumbing a strand of hair at your temple and pushing it behind your ear, eyes dark, "Look at you."

You swirl your tongue around the tip, still making sure to keep eye contact with him as you carefully slip more of him inside your mouth. He's so big, there's absolutely no way you'll be able to fit all of him inside, at least not without some practice. He doesn't seem to mind that you can only take a little bit of him, his thumb coming downward to stroke gently at the corner of your mouth. He wipes away a bit of drool pooling there, brows furrowing.

"You're doin' so good, angel," he whispers, nodding slowly to you in reassurance as you very slowly begin to lift your head up and down, up and down, eyes going hazy, "Takin' that cock so well."

His words spur you on, encourage you to take a little bit more. You've got about half of him in your mouth and you already know you won't be able to take anymore, the spongey tip pushing dangerously close to your gag reflex. You absolutely do not want to choke, don't want to ruin this in any way. You want him to feel good. Feel better.

"Oh, honey," he groans softly when you begin to palm his balls, rolling them gently and feeling their fullness, round and heavy, "This mouth," he touches the corner of your lips again, a bit harder this time, trails his fingers downward to grip your chin, "Made to have my cock in there, huh?" his eyes are boring into yours, pupils blown wide, "You like havin' your mouth full like that, babygirl?"

You nod and whimper around his length, speeding up a little bit and never breaking eye contact with him, obsessed with watching his eyes get darker and darker, filling more and more with lust as he watches you pleasure him.

"Yeah, you do," he murmurs, voice soothing again like last night, calm and safe, "What a good girl you are, wakin' me up to suck my cock. Couldn't wait, could ya, baby?" you shake your head and the head of his cock slips past your throat a little too far, so much that you have to pull off him quickly to be sure you don't gag, "Aw, baby, that's okay," he reassures you gently, "It's a lot, I know."

Your eyes are hooded and your jaw is already starting to ache - you're not used to doing something like this and he knows it, strokes your cheek gently as he takes his cock in his hand and carefully pushes the tip against your lips.

"You just kiss it, baby," he whispers, dark and deep, "Kiss that cock 'til I come, okay?"

You do as you're told, lips parting slightly as he rubs the head of his cock against your lips and strokes himself a few more times, bringing himself close to the edge. He's so gorgeous like this, so rugged and almost animalistic as his chest heaves, groans escaping his mouth as he watches your lips. His hand is still in your hair, grip getting tighter and tighter as you lean down a bit so he can gently fuck the tip of his cock back into your mouth. Your eyes close involuntarily and you can feel your pussy throbbing against the mattress with every thrust, lips tight around him.

"Ah, fuck," he grits out suddenly, then pulls his cock away from your mouth and releases all over his chest and stomach, thighs tensing up as you watch his eyes practically roll back into his head. Your eyes are wide and attentive, locked onto the white ropes of come that spurt against his bare skin. You find yourself wondering what it would feel like at the back of your throat instead, on your tongue, what it would taste like...

Your thoughts are interrupted by Joel's alarm going off, loud and obnoxious. Before he can pull himself up to turn it off, you lean over to the nightstand and do it yourself, swiping it off and turning back to his blissed out form. He lies there panting for a moment, eyes closed. You can't help but smile, feeling pride swell in your chest again at the knowledge that you made him feel like this.

"Don't go back to sleep," you whisper softly, "You gotta go to work."

He groans then, but opens his eyes and gives you a crooked smile and a wink, expression still sleepy and satisfied, "Who needs an alarm clock when I got you, huh?" He gestures with his finger for you to move closer and you do, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips, "Mornin', darlin'," he murmurs against your mouth.

"Morning," you whisper back, and you revel in the smile on his face when you pull away, "Sorry for jumping your bones so early."

He just shakes his head with a wide smile, "Never apologize for jumpin' my bones, baby." His eyes fall to your naked body, settling on your pussy, still wet and aching against the sheets, "Aw, sweetheart, lemme take care of that for you."

You shake your head, pointing to his phone, "We don't have time, you gotta get to work and I gotta get home before my parents wake up," you slip out of bed and reach down to pick up the clothes you'd stripped yourself of last night before your shower. He starts to protest but you put your hand up with a soft laugh, "It's okay, Joel. I wanted to do this for you, start your day out right. Give you a chance at a good day."

He peers up at you from the bed, face smooshed into the pillow as he watches you get dressed, "Doesn't seem fair."

You just roll your eyes, pulling on your panties and shorts and pointing to his phone again, "Really, we need to hurry," you bite your lip as you slip your t-shirt over your head, "I have keys this time but I still don't wanna risk it."

"Okay, okay," he grumbles softly, "I'm goin'."

He slips out of bed and stretches, tilting his body back and forth. You both hear the way his bones crack, the noise that emits from his throat when he bends his back a certain way. You watch his expression change, going from content and sated to embarrassed and grumpy in seconds.

"And just like that, the illusion is gone," he mutters to himself, limping away from the bed and toward the door without so much as a side glance to you, clearly upset by the sudden reminder of his age. You frown, watching him go and feeling an ache in your chest that makes a home there for the rest of the morning.

He'd made you breakfast last time, so it's only fair that you make something for him today. Unfortunately cooking has never been your forte, so about fifteen minutes later you're waving a dish rag at the fire alarm while the sausages you'd managed to burn are smoking in the sink. Joel comes running down the stairs after his shower with a look of concern on his face, only for it to fade into one of amusement when he sees the situation.

"Now why am I teachin' you guitar when you clearly don't know how to even use a stove?"

"Oh, shut up," you can't even pretend to be mad at him, grin spreading across your face as you shake your head and breathe a sigh of relief when the alarm stops going off, "Help me clean this up."

You end up making toast instead.

"You know, we've still got about ten minutes," he says across from you at the table as you eat, peering down at his watch quickly.

"Yeah, 'cause I fail as a cook," you mutter, making a face at your slice of toast, "I was gonna do eggs too, you know."

"Let's not reach for the stars too quickly now," he says with a sly smile, putting his hand up quickly when you prepare to retort, "Anyway, that's not what I meant."

"What did you-" you look up from your toast and see him beckoning you toward him again like he had last night, finger curling toward himself with a sly smile on his face.

You look at the clock on the oven, biting your lip.

"It'll take five minutes tops," he says, and you raise your eyebrow at him.

"Really?" you challenge, "Five minutes?"

"Five minutes."

That, you'd like to see. Dropping your toast back onto the plate, you stand up and walk to the other side of the table, unsure what exactly he wants you to do. He spreads his legs a bit, points to his thigh.

"Sit here, babygirl," he says, voice low and hypnotic, "Wanna show you somethin' new."

Yes please.

You situate yourself on his lap, one leg going between his thighs while the other dangles carefully off the other side of the chair. He pulls you down, big hands coming up to palm your hips and hold you there firmly. You swallow tightly, unsure exactly what he has in mind.

"You know what feels really good?" he murmurs, thumbs slowly stroking the bare skin between your shirt and your shorts.

"What?" you whisper, peering down into his eyes with intrigue.

"This," he says softly, then very slowly begins to move your hips, dragging you carefully back and forth along his thigh. Your eyebrows shoot up, lips parting as you feel the ache in your core immediately return, the pressure of his thigh and the movement of his hands setting your nerves alight.

He looks down at his own handiwork, watches as he moves you back and forth, back and forth, rocking you over and over again until you're whimpering in his lap, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders. He just smiles up at you, doesn't stop his movements.

"Yeah, that feels good, doesn't it?" he breathes, watching your expression closely, "Feels good to finally have somethin' touchin' that pussy, huh baby?"

You moan at his words, hands slipping from his shoulders to wrap around him as you lean forward to bury your face in his neck. He just starts to move you faster, chuckling softly to himself when your hips buck against him. It's amazing how such a simple action can feel so fucking good, the constant stimulation against your clit through layers of material making you writhe and whimper.

He removes one of his hands from your hips and slips it inside the leg of your shorts, fingertips tickling your inner thigh gently. You grapple onto him even tighter, hugging him like a koala as his thumb slowly begins to stroke you through the wet spot of your panties.

"Couldn't stop thinkin' about this pussy yesterday," he murmurs, thumb rubbing your clit over and over in little circles, "Those pictures were so filthy, baby."

You moan against his shoulder, gripping him tighter as his thumb begins to pick up speed. He presses a kiss to your neck, wet and hot; it makes your eyes roll back.

"And this little hole," he murmurs in your ear, suddenly adding a finger inside your shorts to circle your entrance slowly, "Kept thinkin' about this tiny little hole, all open for me."

God, when he talks like that you can't even fucking think, brain running on autopilot as he pulls you impossibly closer and lets you bare down on his thigh, his finger and thumb trapped under your weight, pressed firmly against your core.

"Who's gonna fill up that hole, babygirl?" he whispers in your ear, soft and secret, "Huh? Who's that hole belong to?"

"You," you whimper into his shoulder, eyes shut tight as he strokes his finger up and down through the fabric, adding even more pressure to the overwhelming sensations you're already feeling "It's yours, Mr. Miller."

"And what's gonna go inside it, sweetheart?"

"Hnhng," you can't speak, inhaling shakily as Joel's other hand presses harder against your hip and continues to guide you, fucking you back and forth against his thigh. He just watches you, eyes dark, lips parted, brow furrowed.

"Words, babygirl," he reminds you softly, "Use your words. What's gonna go inside that tight little hole? Huh? Tell me."

"Y-your cock."

"That's right," he murmurs, the tip of his finger prodding inside you gently, taking the damp material of your panties with it, "Gonna fill you up so deep with my cock, honey. You're gonna feel it right here," he moves his hand up and places it at the base of your belly, pushes against it softly, "Gonna be so big inside you, sweet girl."

Oh fuck.

"I want it so bad," you groan, wrapping your arms even tighter around him, "I need it Mr. Miller."

"You do need it," he agrees softly as he kisses the top of your head, bringing his hand back down from your belly to guide you again, moving you back and forth "Need to be fucked so bad, don't you baby? Til you can't even think straight."

You nod frantically, continuing to grind yourself down against his thigh over and over and over, "Please," you whimper, almost a squeak, "Please, Mr. Miller."

"Shh," he soothes, pulling you in closer and moving your hips against him, looking at you with those big brown eyes full of lust and safety, "I will, babygirl. Soon. I'll fuck you so good, honey. I promise." Your body hitches in his lap as you near the edge, eyes going wide and mouth popping open as your orgasm starts to hit you, "Yeah? You like thinkin' about that, huh? Me fuckin' this soaked little pussy into my mattress? Fillin' you up so deep you can feel me in your stomach?"

You can't hold on anymore, eyes shutting tight and high pitched whimpers flowing past your lips as you start to come. He pins you against his thigh, holds you there tight and firm as your pussy pulses and throbs through his pants. You lean forward to bury your face in his neck as you ride it out, feel his hand press against your back.

"Oh, good girl, that's it, baby," he murmurs, kissing your temple gently and stroking your back in little circles, "Come all over my lap, sweetheart. Show me how wet she can get, there you go. Good girl."

After a moment of catching your breath and willing yourself to pull your face away from his neck, you both bring your attention to the clock on the stove - five minutes have passed.

"Told ya," he murmurs, pulling you into one more hug, hitching his chin over your shoulder and rubbing your back gently as your head lolls against him.

You're too blissed out to tease him back.

The arrivals gate isn't as busy as you'd expected, thankfully. You lean against your car a few hours later, still reeling from your morning with Joel as you wait for Tasha to show up. You'd told him about your weekend plans before you'd left, insisting that despite spending time with Tasha you'd still be attending your Saturday lesson.

"Can't wait," he'd murmured to you, low and deep in your ear after giving you one final kiss at the door, "Got somethin' real special planned, babygirl."

You'd practically melted down his front steps.

"THERE'S MY FAVORITE SLUT!!" you suddenly hear someone shout, and you look up to see Tasha at the sliding doors, bags dropping to the ground as she sprints at you head on and collides with you seconds later, wrapping her arms around you tightly.

She's just the same as she was the last time you saw her, high spirited and excitable and sweet, practically vibrating in your arms with joy. Only she could rock a bright purple cowboy hat and sweatpants, not to mention the lime green flip flops.

"Oh my god," you gasp in her ear, hugging her back and spinning on the spot, "You're insane."

"I'M EXCITED!" she squeals, pulling away from you and clapping her hands together, "We're going out tonight!!! Together!!! For the first time ever!" She brings her hands up and places one on either side of your face, lips turning down into a pout, "My baby bird is leaving the nest," she sighs dreamily, shaking her head, "I never thought this day would come."

"Please get in the car," you laugh, popping the trunk and gesturing to her bags, "before I change my mind and send you back."

You give Tasha the complete run-down on Joel as you get ready at the Airbnb, updating her on everything that's happened since you'd last checked in. It feels so good to actually talk about it, not text or simply mull it over and over in your head. She gasps at all the right spots, makes ridiculous faces in the mirror as she curls her hair, nearly drops the curling iron on the floor when you tell her about this morning.

"AND YOU LIKED HOW IT TASTED?" she practically screams, running out of the room and then running back in like she has no idea what to do with herself, "Oh my god, you are down bad. Jesus Christ," she makes a face, "Sorry, I mean- uh, fuck."

"Tasha," you roll your eyes, "You can say Jesus Christ."

"I can?" her eyes widen and she sighs in relief, picking up the curling iron from the floor, "Thank god."

You're going clubbing tonight for the very first time; a night of dancing and cocktails and flirting and living out all the college dreams you still have yet to experience. You're a bit tentative about the flirting part though, a concept that floors Tasha immediately.

"You can't go clubbing and not flirt," she says with faux shock, spinning in front of you as she assesses her dress in the mirror, "It's the best part!"

"I have a-" you cut yourself off, making a face at your reflection.

"You do not have a boyfriend," Tasha says immediately, "There has been no definition, babe. You need to keep reminding yourself of that."

"But it's not just fucking," you argue with a grimace, "I mean, it's not even fucking at all, we still haven't taken that step yet."

"I know, I just don't want you to get your heart hurt, honey," she frowns, leaning toward the mirror and applying some lipstick, "Boys are mean."

"Well, Joel's not a boy," you say quietly, fingering the hem of your own dress, a short and cute pink number that Tasha had brought specifically for you to wear, "He's a man."

"Mmhm, so you keep telling me," she raises an eyebrow, "I think I need to see this man for myself. Give you my honest opinion, see if he's really this gorgeous, perfect hunk you make him out to be."

You bite your lip, trying not to smile as you think back to this morning, how he'd looked in the early morning light, naked and sleepy and beautiful. And all yours.

"He is," you murmur softly.

You're supposed to be going clubbing, supposed to be out dancing and drinking cocktails and living out all your college dreams for once in your life. But where are you instead?

"O'Neil's!!" Tasha says excitedly, pointing to the red neon sign outside the bar you've just arrived at, throwing you a shit-eating grin that just makes you playfully roll your eyes.

You never should have told her the name of the bar Joel frequents, because she's now made it her mission to find him, get a good look at him and judge for herself if he's really all you're making him out to be. It's your own fault, you suppose, considering that you don't have any pictures of him or any frame of reference to articulate exactly the way he looks. For Tasha he's shrouded in mystery, but not for much longer.

Your ears are already ringing when you get inside the bar, the chatter and buzz of other people's conversations flooding your thoughts. You're not used to being out like this, being around drunk people or high people or literally anyone whose ideal night out is spending time at a bar. It's nerve-wracking and you instantly feel like a fish out of water, gripping onto Tasha's arm after showing your ID to a man who ogled both of you way more than he needed to.

"So this is where he hangs out," Tasha says, assessing her surroundings and leading you towards the bar where most people seem to be gathered, "Quaint. Little divey. Definitely not for our crowd but hey, we're learning new things tonight." She taps the counter and tilts her head toward the bartender with a smile, "Watcha got on tap?"

You wrinkle your nose, "I thought we'd be having cocktails."

"Oh we will at the club, don't you worry. But if we want the authentic dive bar experience, beer is necessary," the bartender lists the options and Tasha orders, though you barely hear what either of them are saying over the loud music and conversations. Your eyes scan the bar for any sign of Joel, but people are packed so tightly in here that it's hard to really see anybody, faces and bodies melding together.

The bartender hands Tasha the drinks and she throws him a wink, "Thank you, darling."

You envy how easily she navigates a situation like this, so natural and graceful despite her surroundings that are anything but. She hands your beer to you with a smile and holds hers up in front of her, tilting it toward yours until they clink.

"To you finally coming out with me," she toasts with a grin, "It's about damn time."

You smile back and take a sip, trying your hardest not to wince at the bitter flavor. It's not like you've never tried alcohol before, you just already know that you hate beer.

"Delicious," you lie, and Tasha just laughs and gestures toward a suddenly empty booth in the corner of the room.

"Let's sit there while we suss him out," she mutters to you, pulling you along with her and slipping inside, "Now, what's he look like? You've been pretty vague about those details." She waggles her eyebrows, "Be honest, is he bald?"

You almost spit out your second sip, shaking your head furiously, "No, he's not bald. Full head of hair."

She puts her hands up in defense, "Hey, it's not that crazy to assume!"

You just shake your head and laugh, turning back toward the bar and the people and trying to get a gage on where he might be. You know he usually comes here with his contracting crew, but what the hell does a contracting crew even look like?

"Help me out, gimme a description!" Tasha says eagerly, wiggling in her seat a bit and following your gaze, "He has facial hair, right?"

"Yes, it's kinda messy and scruffy," you bite your lip, squinting a bit as if that'll help you.

"And what's his hair color?"

You don't look at her as you reply, "Um.. grey."

Tasha's hand slaps down on the table and you jump, eyes going wide as you turn back to her, "What?"

"Grey? Girl, how old is he?" she doesn't sound angry or judgmental - she sounds intrigued. And almost... impressed? You gnaw on your lip, scrunching your eyebrows together as you look back toward the crowd of people.

"Um... he's..." you stop short, freezing when your eyes land on a familiar shirt near the bar, a red and black plaid button down that you'd seen only hours ago, "There! He's there!" You point at him quickly, ducking your head a bit and motioning for Tasha to lean in closer to get a good look.

"Oh... my god," she breathes, and you feel a rush of pride at her response, unable to stop the grin from plastering itself to your face as you peer at him.

There's something different about him that you can't place - maybe it's just because you haven't seen him in a public place like this, aren't used to what he looks like when it's not just the two of you. You try to put your finger on it, and while you're doing so he does something that makes your heart positively swell in your chest.

He smiles. That beautiful crooked smile that pulled you in the day you met him, set your skin on fire and brought you to the point of no return. Those crinkly eyes, the grey in his beard, the softness of his eyes, they send that familiar feeling of safety rushing through your bones. And you realize there's nothing different about him at all. That's your Joel, sitting on a bar stool after a long day of work, nursing a glass of whisky and chatting about his day. He's the same Joel who you'd woken up with this morning, just in a different setting.

You're so distracted by his rugged beauty out in the open like this - overwhelmed by his charm and his smile - that it takes you a few seconds to see who exactly he's smiling at.

You feel your heart in your throat.

There's a woman sitting beside him. Not just beside him, but so close their stools are touching, so close her legs - long and lean and beautiful - are brushing his. It's not subtle the way her ankle moves against his calf, up and down, up and down. She's wearing jean shorts and a halter top, skin dark and gorgeous and exposed in all the right places, beautiful brown braids cascading down her back and shoulders. You can't see her face but you already know she could be a model. She probably is.

No. No, something isn't right.

Maybe it's not him.

Time feels like it's frozen, like everyone in the bar has stopped moving except the two of them, like a giant spotlight is shining directly on where they sit, where they touch, where they smile at each other. Because it is him. It's him in all his gorgeous Joel glory, peering into the eyes of a woman who isn't you, a woman who's probably more his type, closer to his age, a woman who's somehow making him smile like that when she shouldn't. That's how he smiles at you. That's your smile.

A woman who's now leaning in for a kiss.

No. Please no.

A woman who he kisses back.

This isn't happening. This isn't real. This is just some sick and twisted nightmare you're about to wake up from at any second.

His hand comes up to cup her face.

"I'm gonna throw up," is all you manage to gasp out to Tasha as you yank yourself from the booth and sprint out of the bar, hand splaying across your belly as you bend over and release the contents of your stomach all over the sidewalk.

You feel Tasha's hand on your back, pulling your hair behind your ears. She's saying something but you don't understand it, ears continuing to ring despite being outside in the cool air, away from the loud music and chatty conversations, away from them.

"Oh honey," you finally hear her say, soft and kind as she rubs circles into your back, a comforting action that brings no comfort to you, not now, not after what you've just seen. "I'm so sorry."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #fic: feelings on fire #*

2K notes · View notes

diejager · 1 year ago

Note

Hallo! Truly loved the MonsterAU stories! Wonderful, amazing writing!

Would it be possible for you to write: what if human!reader was turned into a chimera?

Akin to this:

Feel free to ignore!

Chimæra

Pairing: Monster 141 x Chimera!reader

Cw: science experiment, human torture, human testing, gore?, blood, canon-typical violence, unethical human experiments, kidnapping, child abuse, malnutrition, child neglect, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 3.6k (A/N): credit to @bluegiragi’s monster 141 designs.

They were tipped off by an anonymous source that some shady and highly illegal things were being done in a small and remote town near the border of Belarus, their ongoings unknown to both the government and public of their country, but someone had given Laswell a file containing all the horrific tests conducted within the closed walls of the innocuous-looking compound —a laboratory dressed as a simple military base. The folder held snapshots of emails and files sent between scientists and researchers, small indications of what was being done to both humans and monsters, yet withholding important intel about certain things. It disclosed the location, the names and faces of every worker and leading figure in the compound, the number of security and their schedules, and what was done, but not what was truly happening, it left small clues, sublet words here and there with hidden meanings —never clear images, blurry ones as if the person was in a rush.

Despite not having clear indications of the illegal activities, Laswell had enough to have 141 sent to take it down, to bring the dehumanising lab to its ground and burn it down. She didn’t have trouble convincing them, it was telling enough to let them read the condensed files for them to read, to see themselves the monstrosity being done to children and monsters they took, kidnapped from around the world to be left at the deceitful hands of crazed scientists. There wasn’t much to be found outside it, the base wore the facade of a benevolent patron, bearing the crest of kindhearted investors wanting to rebuild rundown houses and reconstruct rough and broken roads and paved streets in the town they took to hide. It worked for the most part, they profited from this by acting without raising any suspicion from anyone, neither the authorities nor the people.

“Christ,” Gaz swore, looking down at the words in the file he received, the teased truth and the dreadful treatments through a thick layer of secrets and subtle wording, the only clear intel was from the straightforward emails sent to and from researchers and the heads of the facility, unabashed and shameless bragging of their success and the narrative to which these subjects could be used. “Why did it take so long?”

A recurrent theme of these was about a certain subject, it was about C34, spoken with such pride and joy about their creation, the work of the new world and the future made within these walls. Most emails were the exchanges between them about C34’s training, the ongoing treatments and every successful mission and exercises, they spoke of C34 as if they were a dog, a rabid mutt they captured and took on the task of domesticating it. It was demeaning, degrading and cruel, to look at another being as something lower, something needing domestication —it went against every rule and law put in place to protect humanity, the many conventions sworn to protect the goodwill and security of the innocents.

“We’ve had our suspicions before,” Laswell sighed, the images of the screen switching with the small click of her control, laser pointing at the images of various weapons cache and illegally procured weapons. “There was a slip up in the shipping, it was dropped here-” she motioned to a circled area in the map, a closeup of a secluded road near the town, “and we were able to retrace it to the facility. We needed more intel about the facility before acting and we needed to know what we're facing here, if we should send a team or send you.”

“What now?” Price tilted his head back, smoke leaving the sides of his frown, a deep and unpleasant one. He couldn’t even look at the intel given with a straight face, the shadowed truth of cruelty and dehumanising acts done by humans. “Figured you send us after seeing this, Laswell?”

Laswell nodded, jumping to another slide, showing blurred images of subject C34, a blurry figure, tall and imposing in every way possible. They stood high, stature seemingly one belonging to a monster or hybrid: on four legs and the wide, familiar shape of wings, everything about C34 cried monster. Perhaps one they captured as a child, taken from their mother and kept in this cell. There were many pictures of this one, blurry and disfigured, but others had smaller shapes, the size of children with various characteristics.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus!” Soap spat, disgust dripping from his tone in waves, unending as were the other’s curses, each holding their level of horror and repugnance. His face was wound tight, brows dipped lowly and lips pursed, he balled his fists, anger rising within him with every image he saw, the deplorable conditions and the care given to the monsters —what could they even expect from this shady company engineering monster and human DNA to fit their preferred narrative, for money, for reputation, for strength. “We ‘ave tae do somethin’ about this, Price!”

Soap - Johnny - had always been the more emotional one, letting his good heart lead his decisions when the situation seemed to fit it. His wolf made him more susceptible to emotional attachment, a pack mentality driven deeply into his mind and heart, he was viciously loyal and wore his heart on his sleeve, uncaring of how he’d be hurt by a betrayal, he simply saw the best in the world, something many couldn’t after a while, but Soap could, Johnny was a good man at heart. That’s why he reacted the most out of everyone, voicing his distaste and hate, his need for revenge and the sanctity of the lives being stolen in the facility.

Soap pushed Price to agree, seeing no reason not to lead the breach, to uncover everything done to innocent lives. His eyes connected to the man hidden in the darkness, his blue eyes gleaming with fierce justice, a contrast to the wraith who lay in silence, abhorrent and seething quietness. Ghost peered at him, head tilted up with white pupils darkened by black eyes, death layering off him with calmness. He gave Soap a curt nod, affirmation for him to continue to voice his mind, to help those in need.

“Seems like it’s been decided, Kate,” Price gave her a lopsided smirk, amber eyes narrowed with what could be read as anger, teeth sinking into the girth of his cigar, ash falling. “When are we going?”

Her lips parted in a proud grin, eyes gleaming with something dark and wrathful. She leaned on the table, head held high and shoulder broad while she flicked off the projector:

“Wheels up at 1500 tomorrow.”

You stared down the man before you, watching him tremble under your cold gaze, steps hesitant to approach you despite being seated, body prone on the hard floor you called a bed. He was new, possibly recently employed and his boss - or his direct manager - played a dirty game with him. It was some kind of rite of passage for every new employee courageous enough to accept their recruitment, all bright-eyed geniuses wanting to build their place on earth with forthgoing discovery, desperate and narcissistic; yet they were so easily tricked into you cage, locked in by cackling and grinning guards and coworkers.

He smelled young, fresh-faced and a bit nervous, most were when they first saw you. You remembered everyone who walked in, the smell of fear and anxiety, the disgusting scent oozing off their bodies, rotten and putrid like a rotting corpse. You would’ve gagged and choked if you weren’t used to it, having grown close to the smell of death, calling the reaper your friend. You weren’t bothered by him, only the cart he was wheeling over, a big and heavy cooler that smelled fresh. He was made to bring you food by his boss, a cruel joke played on every new scientist who was always so eager to meet you before cowering in terror once the lock clicked.

Standing before your third cage, he unlocked the small hatch and, with effort and a loud grunt, pushed the cooler into the hole, big enough for a big cooler but small enough to fit your arm through it. You waited until he stumbled away, distancing him from you before reaching for the container, it was light, weighing little in your palm. They fed you raw meat, sometimes buying the fresh catch of a Belarus hunter, usually an elk or a wild boar, but if they were lucky, a bison or a bear, other times they would have conserved meat shipped from outside the town, bigger cities or outside the border.

Today was an elk, the meat cold and free of rot, it smelled as good as a fresh kill did, bloody and heady. You ripped into it without care, tuning out the loud retch from the scientist as you gorged on your meal, claws tearing it in half and biting into the bloody meat. Blood rolled down your lip, painting your cheeks crimson and staining the cream-coloured rag they considered a shirt. It would be changed after your meal, as it always was. Despite the elk weighing around six hundred kilograms, you finished it quickly, with pointed teeth cutting and pulling flaps of meat and ligament, blood spraying and dirtying the metal ground near the hatch.

It was filling, albeit cold. You cleaned your hands of blood, licking it off like a grooming cat, tongue laving over the sharp edge of your claw and under your blunt fingernails. You peered at him from under your lashes, eyes gleaming in the darkness. You watched - pleased with yourself - him shudder, face growing green with unnerve at your show. You knew he was desperate to leave, to get a breath of fresh air outside of your cell, you understood his fear and wanted him to suffer for helping your owner, the man watching over your training, but you wanted him gone before he emptied his stomach on your floor. So you pushed the cooler out, clawed arm breaching past the hatch to leave it farther from your cage.

He left hastily, legs shaky and face pale.

“I want a bison next time,” you growled, words rolling off your tongue huskily from its rare use.

It looked as inconspicuous through the NVGs as it did in the pictures, a few grey buildings built lowly to hide an immense labyrinth dug into the ground, secret passages crossing unending halls with locked doors and tipped with surveillance cameras to watch over the whole facility. They studied the very walls that made this place a secret fortress, from the body to its heart, like mounting a brigade against a castle, Laswell’s team found the few hidden entrances that connected to the lesser-used passages, winding through many hallways and wide vents, big enough for humans but too tight for monsters the size of C34. Task Force 141 led the mission, infiltrating the base under the darkness of night where they could crawl and slink through shadows to catch what they hunted. They were joined by Marines, all experienced and skillful, wearing scars like a badge of honour. It would either be a quick in and out, or a long and strenuous infiltration.

Price took Gaz and led half of the Marines through the west, breaching the lab from above. They pushed in steadily, relaying information and physical cues to Watcher - Laswell - with a body cam recording everything they saw, the facade they wore above ground, hiding their dark enterprise. Ghost, as usual, has Soap watch his six, following closely behind him with puppy-like loyalty and the other half of the Marines. Team Two’s - Delta - mission started through the underground passage they sniffed out, a long and unwinding hall that went straight through the heart of the facility. Ghost’s team went dark, needing the cover of silence to stay hidden in a highly protected area of the base to run this clandestine mission. They spoke only when needing to, to make calls, to reaffirm intel or to let both Bravo and Watcher know a change, the tech team in the temporary safe house a few miles away from the compound watched through the cams, from the subtle change in the air to a jarring lead to what was happening.

While Price and Gaz worked on creating a distraction, taking a load off team Delta’s shoulders, they could work through the system faster and more efficiently with the fire taken off their backs and front. It was controlled chaos for both teams, creating a mass discordance within the enemy lines: panicked higher-ups at the sudden attack, while they had a small squad of personal soldiers, they were unprepared, taken by surprise by both teams attacking on two fronts; and confused mercenaries, their quiet and boring schedules made them lose the edge of suspicion, of wariness towards what awaited them and the sheltered job with little to no action apart from a few failed escape attempts by the subjects.

“Delta 0-1 moving in,” Ghost mumbled into the coms, his team following him closely, rifle held tightly with the muzzle pointed forward as they crossed the threshold of section C, heading towards the one holding the monster subjects.

They left behind them groups of bodies, slumped over the walls or limp on the ground, blood painting the sterilised and glossy walls, turning the once white hall into a grotesque place, dead bodies covering the length of the corridor like the ones they walked through before, leaving the stench of death that even the Marines could sniff out. It wasn’t clean - they weren’t aiming for it to be clean - but they wouldn’t need it to be clean when the Laswell would send a clean-up team to deal with this, Ghost would steal a bite before they arrived, quenching his hunger for revenge with them.

A few guards stayed to watch over the cells, doors unlocked by a keycard that most guards kept in their back pocket, Ghost would have to take one off a dead body. Under Ghost’s cover, Soap dashed to the other side of the hall, taking a few with him to corner the mercenaries, boxing them into a closed hallway until they all died. Despite a few of the Marines taking shots, bruising the skin under their plate, black and blue blossoming like a bloody flower under the thin layer of skin, they kept their heads high and minds clear, moving forward without a misstep or hesitation. Soap swiped a few cards from the bodies, throwing one to Ghost.

“Delta 0-1 to Watcher, can you hear me?”

“Solid copy, Ghost,” Laswell voice rang out clearly, reaching his ears in seconds.

“We found the cells,” his eyes roved over them, white paint over thick, cement walls to hold whatever they locked into the cells, perhaps the children the saw or the big one, C34.

“Do you have the keycards?”

“Affirm,” Ghost growled slowly, hearing Laswell's confirmation to continue. “Going in.”

He tapped the pad, a loud beep ringing in their ears as the lock’s mechanism creaked to life, unlatching from its metal hold to let them in. Both he and Soap walked in, leaving the others to watch their backs while they surveyed the first room. It was dimly lit as it was bare of any decorations apart from a visible toilet, a small sink and a few metal beds. It looked like any usual cells they came across, made barren and empty of anything useful to prevent the prisoners from escaping or causing a ruckus, but the people they kept in these cells were children. Soap swore under his breath at the sight of children huddled together, seemingly no older than 12, he lowered his rifle. They were backed into a corner, three older kids holding a younger one in their arms, protecting her from them, from whoever meant to harm these children.

They looked malnourished, left to slowly rot in these cement boxes until the scientist found something worthwhile in them, their cheeks sunken in, eyes droopy and swollen with bruises - they were beaten, it made something ugly rear its head inside Ghost dead heart - and lips dried. One was armless, having wings that they used to cover both of their cellmates, naked with only feathers covering their body, this one looked more like a harpy than it did human. The two others had arms, both having the lower half of a mammal, neither of them was sure which four-legged mammal it was, but one had a pair of wings, while the other’s back was bare of anything.

“We’ve found the children.”

You could hear the chaos from your cell, the blaring alarm and the smell of death. The building shook from its foundation, vibration emanating from both the ground floor and the basement, just farther from your hall, the closed and sectioned-off area. They separated you from the defective ones, all your young mistakes they made after achieving success —you. They tried to recreate it, but it never came out how they wanted it. Maybe it was a mistake on their part or maybe it was the lack of a certain gene in their DNA, a subtle difference that you and the rest had. You didn’t want to know and you didn’t want them to succeed a second time, it was painful, the shift, the tests and the change, the storm of pain, terror and confusion weren’t worth this power.

You could hear the booming sound of gunfire, a loud ricochet of the bullet when the nitrocellulose sparked and sent the bullet outwards, finding its destination in the warm flesh of human guards. You usually enjoyed this kind of chaos if you knew what started it, and laughed when something caused trouble for your captors, but you were cautious of this one. You neither knew who thought to disturb the peace nor did you know who was behind this, their scents strange and the sound of steps unknown. All you knew was that their steps were heavy, out of breath but pushing their way into - what you thought to be - section C. The place they kept the young and willful.

You might be blinded by your cell, but the guards outside your confinement knew how to talk, their chatter and barking orders loud enough for you to hear through the thick walls. From them, you knew they were strangers, unknown players on your board of pawns. You didn’t know their goal, whether they were here to let you out or keep you in a cage of their making, but you knew they were a gamble on your fate. As the noise got closer, you sat down, crossed your paws and waited, cautiously awaiting to see what your verdict would be.

Strangely enough, there was a different section, separated from the other one by many gates and stricter security, but they were able to break through it. Security was concentrated in one hall as if the monster they locked at the end of this hallway was of big importance. It had higher security, stronger and thicker. Ghost wondered if it was to keep the monster in or keep people out, either way, this meant that they found the thing they first came here for: the trained and dangerous subject C34.

Ghost was apprehensive about opening this metal door, built taller than any doors he’d seen, it was as wide as it was tall, metres over what would be considered normal for a human or monster, similar to the wide gates that protected British castles, tall and imposing, but the most worrying was it’s vast amount of security measures. He thought back to the blurrier giant he saw in the picture, their shape indescribable and otherworldly, almost alien-like. His eyes met Soap’s reassuring ones, standing steadfast and unyielding to do good in the world. So with a nod, Ghost worked through the locks and scans of the heavy, metal door made to keep this cement cage closed. This door clicked loudly, echoing down the hall with ominous intent, foreseeing something damming and destructive.

Yet they hadn’t expected to see another cage within the cage, a box made of reinforced glass, large and robust and inside of it was another cage, a rough metal one with bars for walls, a sick joke of a bird’s gilded cage. It would’ve seemed almost exaggerated to have three layers - three different cages - to keep one subject safely locked up until he caught sight of the monster. Lying on the cold, metal ground with legs folded in, tail curled around them and staring at both him and Soap with cautious curiosity. It looked like a gryphon if it were more reptilian than a mammal, this monster had a human torso, a head wearing a stoic expression, dressed in rags. Where there would normally be legs was the body of a bird, an eagle perhaps from the golden-brown plumage and reptilian legs from the knee down, followed by a fully scaled back, hind legs and a strong tail. Each toe was tipped with a sharp claw, big and deadly if it got its hands on someone, it could easily rip into anyone without putting in much effort. The biggest thing about it was the folded wings, feathered and equipped with a talon. If it could fly, these wings would be powerful.

He understood why they kept it locked, it was neither man, monster or hybrid. It was a beast of human creation, a creature made to be at the peak of its condition. It was smart, he could see it, the glint in its eyes and the pursed lips, mien kept monotone and calm —observant.

What did Laswell sign them into?

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly

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sweetblossomsss · 4 months ago

Text

Into you || Jeong Yunho

Synopsis: Your husband, who was a deceitful piece of shit, unfortunately is someone who is high of status which means danger comes easily. But when Yunho was hired as your bodyguard, you felt something inside of you change. You were fighting with fire trying to explore what this relationship with Yunho could be.

WARNINGS: nsfw, swearing, reader’s husband gets physical by grabbing her face, drinking, crying, yelling, angst, happy ending, unprotected sex, smut, The character Jae is based on no one, just picked that name, toxic relationship with husband, divorce, throwing a object, tbh I’m sure I’m missing some just lmk.

Word Count: 40K. (If I remember correctly)

Blossom’s Notes: Hello my petals! I definitely had a blast writing this story. As I was watching Ariana Grande’s Into You music video it inspired me to write something similar to it. This is a long one so cozy up, grab a drink and popcorn and enjoy your read. Let’s get into it.

Started: May 29, 2024. Finished: July 28, 2024.

“And I just want to say, thank you to my beautiful wife.” Your husband, Jae, says as he smiles at you. The light shining on you, giving you a spot light. You smile back. “Without you, I don’t know where I would be right now. I love you so much.” He says as he sniffs those crocodile tears up.

You’ve gotten use to his bullshit and lies. The whole banquets clapped for your husband as he smiled for the cameras holding up his plaque. He’s a renowned technology entrepreneur, who is known for his innovative software solutions. His company, a major tech company, is getting recognized for its ground breaking achievements tonight.

He walks down the stage, shaking people’s hands, thanking them as he walks to you. He gives you a kiss on the lips, hugging you. “Show some more affection, would you?” He whispers in your ear, making it seem like he whispered sweet nothings to you. You smiled, as you held his cheek, trying to make it a sweet moment for the cameras.

How badly you wanted to slap him and clean the floor with his ass. You two sat down, thanking the people in your table for their compliments. You couldn’t wait to get home, get out this tight dress, and take the night off with a nice hot bath and alcohol.

“So Y/N,” An older woman says, catching your attention, “You must be very proud of your husband.” She smiles at you two as you reached over and placed your hand over Jae’s, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. “Words truly can’t describe how proud I am of him. He deserves it all.” You said smiling at him. Ugh, please.

Jae cleared this throat. “I’m truly a lucky man. I meant what I said when I said I don’t know where I would be if it wasn’t for her. She’s been my everything through all the hardships.” The way he looks at you and speaks which such love about you tugs a bit on your heart strings.

You won’t lie, this has been rough. Even then that’s an understatement. You both started this journey with not even able to afford a bed frame. Jae was putting hours in and out for his company, busting his ass to get to where he’s at now. It is true that you kept him sane and composed throughout it all. He leaned on you every time he let his frustration consume him and wanted to throw everything away.

Sometimes you fantasize about the what if. What if you did let him give up? Maybe all the money, glory, and fame wouldn’t get to his head. Something within him switched and you could never figure out why or when it did. If you’re wondering why you stay, well, truthfully speaking even you don’t know yourself. Maybe a part of you is holding on to the what use to be. Hoping Jae goes back to how he was.

“It’s beautiful to see a relationship like this.” The woman said. She dabbed her mouth with a napkin after she had a sip of her champagne, “Pardon if this is wrong of me to ask,” You felt the mood change within the table. “But I saw those threats online. How are you both feeling?”

Oh my mistake, did I forget to mention that you have been receiving threats? Due to your relationship with Jae, you have become a target for people who are against Jae’s business, along with some fans of Jae who aren’t too fond that your his wife. But what has your loving husband done with this information every time you bring it up? Nothing.

The other people in the table agreed talking amongst themselves whispering how they were terrified for you or were worried something bad would happen. “Oh, trust me, we aren’t taking the threats lightly,” Jae said, reassuring the people at the table.

You could’ve sworn you hurt your neck from how fast you snapped to his direction wondering who the fuck is “we” and why “we” all of sudden started caring. “We are currently trying to find the culprits as well as hiring a bodyguard for Y/N.”

Your mouth dropped. You were in shock. For MONTHS you’ve been begging and pleading for some form of protection but he always dismissed your feelings. Guess when other people speak he will do anything to save face his reputation.

He gives you a small face signaling to fix yours. “Oh-Oh, I’m just so shocked,” you said as you put a hand on your chest, “I- um- I didn’t know he was getting me a bodyguard.” You fumbled with your words, giving a small smile to the people at the table to save your reaction.

“Oh, what a good man you have,” the woman said. She grabs her champagne raising it in front of her. “A toast,” she says as everyone, including you two, raise your glass. “To the newly renowned entrepreneur.” Clinking with Jae before you downed that drink knowing you’re in for a long night. You can’t wait to get home.

_______

Finally you two arrived home, no one saying a word to one another. Jae loosening up his tie and taking his jacket off as he walks to the bar. You closed the door, walking to lean on the wall as you take off your heels. You carried them in your hands as you headed up the stairs.

“It would be nice if my wife would give a fuck about my award.” He spat in venom as he poured himself a drink, watching your figure go up the stairs.

You stopped half way on the stairs, making a creaking sound on the wood as you turned around. “Are you serious?” You scoffed. “Your wife is exhausted of playing pretend tonight, husband. I’m going to bed.” You turn around, wanting to just get comfortable and out of his presence.

He slams the cup down, liquor spilling out. You roll your eyes. Oh, here we go again. “Pretend? Are you fucking kidding me? After all I fucking do for you? For us? You’re gonna treat to me like this?” He yells as he spreads his arms out in front of him, leaning on the counter top, glaring at you.

You let out a laugh, slowly going down the stairs, staring at him with a smirk. “For us?” You asked tilting your head to the side in amusement, dropping your heels. “No, Jae, just for you. You’re just a self absorbed arrogant piece of shit.”

That set him off because he was coming in heavy steps, flaring his nostrils, eyes full of anger as he walked up to you grabbing your face. You yelped in shock, digging your nails into his wrist. “You don’t get to speak to me like that.” He spat at you, tightening the grip.

“Admit it. You don’t give a fuck about me. All you care about is your status and how you look on the outside to others.” You said breathing heavy as you try clawing his arm away from you.

“That’s not true. You know I care for you.” He said. His actions obviously say otherwise. You finally shoved him off of you. He stumbled a bit trying to find his balance. There was a moment of silence looking at each other before you spoke.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Why does it take for other people to speak up about what’s happening to me in order for you to do something? You listen to them instead of me?” You felt tears dwelling up as you fumbled taking off your engagement ring and throwing it at him. “Your wife?”

The ring hit him on the chest, bouncing at bit as it made impact with the floor, not that he cares about it either way. “You know that I was caught up with work, business meetings-“

“Everything but me. You just needed to hear other people talking about the threats to validate my feelings, huh?” You cut him off with tears streaming down your face. You were just fed up with all his excuses.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “I was making sure that you weren’t just you being paranoid!” He yells.

You scoffed in disbelief, is he serious right now? “Paranoid? You think I’m being paranoid? You think it’s great living in fear?” You asked him, watching him walk to the bar.

He pours another drink, giving his back to you. “We are doing it now so what’s the matter.” He says nonchalantly.

You sniffed as you wiped the fallen tears. “What matters is that my own husband who vowed to love and protect me doesn’t do anything of the sort.” You said as you shook your head in disappointment and anger. Seeing that he just gave up on this conversation, you just left and went upstairs.

Jae isn’t even phased one bit. He doesn’t bother looking back at you as you leave, not even feeling a tad bit remorse. He just leans his body over the counter, entertaining himself with the cup moving the liquor around, hearing the ice cubes clank against the glass.

He then suddenly feels a vibration in his pocket. He takes his phone out to see someone texted him what he was doing tonight. He chugs the rest of the drink, grabbing his car keys and slamming the door shut as he heads out.

As you’re getting undressed in the bathroom, you turned your head to the sound of the door closing. You sniffed as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand. You’re not stupid, you know he’s probably off to go party and screw some woman. Not the first nor the last.

You watched as the hot steam fogged up the room. Turning to the mirror, you wiped it as you stared at yourself. This isn’t you. You deserve better. You touched your face as you see the tiredness in your eyes, stress written all over your face. Soon the mirror would be fogging again causing you to look at your reflection fading.

You walked to the tub sighing in delight, feeling the slight burning sensation of the water relaxing your muscles as you stepped in. You slowly got in, letting your body adjust to the temperature. You leaned your back on the tub, closing your eyes letting the bullshit of night get out of your system into a peace of mind.

________

A few days have passed and tension still lingers between you and Jae. But here you are, standing in his spacious, sleek office, gazing out the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the city getting ready to meet this so called bodyguard Jae has hired.

When he told you he had found someone, you felt the weight of the world come off your chest. Finally, you get to breathe and not have to constantly be looking over your shoulder anymore. The sounds of Jae’s rhythmic typing filled your ears as you stared at your wedding ring, wearing it just for display for photos. You sighed as your attention turned to the view before you.

Suddenly a knock on the door caught your thoughts as you turned around to see who it was. “Come in.” Jae said not even bothering to look up. “Sir,” the receptionist said as she peaked in, “Mr. Jeong has arrived.” Jae looked up at her pausing mid-type, nodding his head as he stood up. “Bring him in.”

You walked and stood next to Jae as he is straightening his clothes, buttoning up his suit, preparing to meet him. “Let me do the talking,” he says, adjusting his tie. “Maybe now I won’t have to worrying about your safety every second.”

“Since when have you ever been worried about my safety to begin with?” You shot back at him with anger in your eyes.

Right when he was about to say something the door opens. Everything went silent when this tall man walked in. You were momentarily stunned at how handsome he was. He was just oozing with quiet confidence in every step as he approached you both. “Good evening, I’m Jeong Yunho.” He greets himself, deep voice ringing in your ears. Wow.

Yunho extends his hand out to Jae and he returns it with a firm shake. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jae and this,” he wraps his arm around you, “is my wife, Y/N.” He smiles at Yunho.

The urge of breaking his arm off of you is hard to fight but you push through it. “It’s very nice to meet you Mr. Jeong. Thank you so much for coming in today.” Although you feel irritated towards Jae, you gave a genuine smile to Yunho.

He extends his arm out to you. “Please, the pleasure is all mine. And please call me Yunho.” He gave you a small smile as he shook your hand. Wow, he is very handsome. Not just that, but the energy he was radiating when he walked captivated you in some sense.

Jae clears his throat putting his hands in his pockets, noticing your longing stare. “Yunho comes highly recommended. He will make sure you’re safe now.” He said in a serious tone.

“Im sure I will be.” Your tone coming off a little sarcastic as you smiled at Jae causing him to force a smile as his eyes sent daggers to you. “It really means a lot that you’re here Yunho.” You turned your attention back to him.

He nodded, giving a small smile. “Of course. It’s my job. We’ll go over your daily routine and set up a security plan tailored to whatever you need.” He said putting his hands behind his back as he spoke.

“Just make sure she’s protected.” Jae said with slight attitude towards Yunho. You gave him a look that said shut-up. “I’m sure he knows what he’s doing Jae.” You spat back at him.

Yunho sensed the tension between the two of you. He was eying your body language. Keeping a keen eye at the way Jae held your arm and you trying to remove it from his grip as he harshly whispers something into your ear causing your expression to turn angry.

“It’s alright. I understand where he’s coming from,” Yunho said calmly, trying to ease the tension. “My only goal is to protect you without intruding on your personal space. Whatever you need, just let me know.”

You nodded at Yunho’s words. “Well, if you excuse me,” Jae said as he looked at his watch, completely ignoring what Yunho said. “I have a meeting to get to. Make sure she gets home safe.” Jae said as left the room, but not before looking Yunho and up and down as if he’s a threat.

Once you hear the door close, you let out a sigh trying to release the frustration within you. “Yunho, I’m so sorry about Jae. He’s just very… difficult.” You apologized.

Yunho shook his head, giving you a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it. My focus is on you, not him.” He told you. Oh, what was that? Did my heart skip a beat?

You feel a rush of warmth covering your heart with his words, feeling your heart do a leap. It was the way his words spewed sincerity with his intense gaze throwing you off guard. It felt like it stirred up something in you and it was just the first time meeting him.

But besides that, you kind of felt overwhelmed, but in a good way. Feeling some tears creeping in, you sniffed a bit, “Sorry, it’s just- It’s been a long time coming. Ive been waiting for this for a while. You have no idea how clear I can breathe now.”

Yunho looks at you with compassion, “I know it’s a lot to take in, but I promise I’m going to be here for you at every step.” He reassures you as he pulls out a handkerchief for you to dry up your tears. You thanked him as you grabbed it from him, patting your face dry.

“Why don’t we go over your daily routine? The more I know, the better I can protect you.” He said smiling slightly at you, trying to take your mind off of the overwhelming thoughts. You let out a soft okay as you two sat down at the sofa.

You two spent an about an hour or two going over the entire outline of your routine. The places where you like to eat, favorite places to shop, like to hang out, just the usual places. He listens intently as he takes notes, asking questions to clarify some details, nodding his head as you kept talking. “And, well, that’s pretty much it,” you chuckled nervously, “sorry it’s that’s a lot of information.”

He shakes his head, “Not at all. It helps me to know as much as I can to ensure your safety.” He closes his notebook tucking it inside his suit pocket, standing up. “Well then, let’s get you home, yeah?” He asks as he extends a hand out to help you stand from the sofa.

You take his hand as you stand up looking at him. “Yeah, let’s go.” And with that you lead the way out the office and out the building. Because of the news of Jae winning an award, paparazzi were outside his building wanting to take photos and ask questions. And of course he would eat up all that attention.

As soon as you stepped outside, you were bombarded with questions, crowd closing up on you. You covered your face with your hand as flashing lights from the cameras were blinding you from seeing where you were going. Yunho had brought you closer to his chest, shoving people out the way, yelling at them to move.

He held a finger to his ear piece. “Prepare the car.” He said as he held you tightly. When the crowd opens up a way to the car, you see more security guards creating a barricade for you to get in the car. Yunho opens the door for you and helps you inside closing the door quickly.

He rushes to the other side of the car and gets inside. “Let’s go.” He tells the driver as he taps the driver seat. The driver books it out of there as you stared out the window, watching as you get further and further away from the paparazzi. You leaned your head back and close your eyes, feeling at ease. Something you haven’t felt in a long time.

_______

To say you were happy beyond words is an understatement. Yunho has been there at your beckoning call, very attentive when people are in your surroundings, he can read you like an open book at this point. It felt good getting some normalcy back. However one thing is still unresolved, your marriage.

Yunho has definitely seen the bad and the ugly when it comes to you two. The screaming matches, the silence between one another, you name it he saw it. You felt so ashamed and embarrassed to be doing all that in front of Yunho, but he always reassured you that it was okay and that he was here for you.

And tonight just so happens to be one of those nights. Tonight is an important conference for Jae and as always, he’s on edge. He had a drink in his hand, tapping his foot impatiently as he looked at his watch.

“Y/N, we have to go. Come on!” You heard Jae yelling from downstairs. You roll your eyes, applying the final touches to your makeup. You stepped back, admiring yourself as you spritz yourself with perfume.

You set it down and ran your hands down your dress, turning a bit to the side to see how you looked from behind. You smirked at yourself, Damn I look good.

You took a deep breath and let it out as you started walking down the stairs. The creaking of the stairs caused Jae and Yunho to look at your direction causing them to freeze up at your presence. You just looked so breathtaking. Yunho eyes never once left you as he walked towards you to help you down the last couple of steps.

“You look beautiful, Ms. Y/N.” Yunho complimented as you stepped in front of him, turning so he can help you with your silk shawl. You gave him a small thank you, adjusting your shawl around you.

Jae looked at you up and down before finishing his drink. “Let’s go.” He said, placing his cup down as he walked to the door. “We are going to be late.”

____

Arriving to the conference, as soon as you stepped in servers with drinks on a silver tray offered you champagne. You happily took one while Jae went off on his own to the bar to get something else to drink. Yunho just declined by raising his hand and followed you to the reserved table.

Once you spotted your name, he helped remove your shawl. The mixture of his slight touch mixed with the fresh cool air hitting your exposed skin gave a chill down your spine. He took out the chair for you,“If you need me, I’ll be right over there, okay?” He leaned down, whispering in your ear as he pushed the chair in for you.

The hot breath you felt in your ear gave you goosebumps all over, making the little hairs stand at your neck. “Okay.” You said softly as you nodded at him, clearing your throat. Feel like a little hot all of a sudden.

You watched him walk away as you bite your lower lip. Why am I feeling like this? But soon the devil himself would take you out of your thoughts as he got into your view taking a seat next to you. “Remember, act happy and don’t look so miserable.” Jae reminded you for the 20th time that night.

“Oh, sweetie, how can I when I’m with you?” You gave him a fake smile to which he returned one to you. When people started arriving at your table, his focus immediately shifted to them. You gave a small talk and smiles as the night when on.

As Jae was chatting up amongst the people at the table, you sighed in boredom. You grabbed your champagne taking small sips, your eyes roaming around the room. But you know who you were looking for. Your heart stopped when you saw those eyes were already looking at you.

It just felt like it was just you and him in this large crowded room. The dimmed light casting a mysterious look on him. You felt yourself getting lost looking at him. You can hear your heart beating with curiosity and excitement. Something in the way he looks at you makes you feel giddy inside.

He raised his eyebrow, almost asking if anything was wrong. You saw how was getting ready to walk but you smiled and shook your head. You placed the champagne down, turning your attention back to the table getting ready to play husband and wife when you heard Jae call for your attention.

______

Time has passed but the function is still going on. Jae and you stand amongst fellow CEOs, talking about their respective companies as Jae has a possessive grip around your waist. You try your best to hide your discomfort as you try to keep up with the conversation.

“So gentleman, as you can see,” Jae says as he takes a sip of his drink. “NexTech has been known for its unprecedented growth. Plus with our innovative strategies and unmatched resources, we will be dominating like no one has before.”

“Very impressive, Jae. The vision for your company is quite ambitious.” A CEO nods in approval. Jae chuckles as he grips you tighter. You slightly wince at the touch, knowing he’s getting drunk and can’t control himself.

“But of course it is. After all, I wouldn’t settle for anything less.” He said in an arrogant tone, chuckling.

You tried shifting away from him, but it was no use. He had a death grip on you. “Yes, Jae has always been ambitious.” You forced a laugh. You gave Jae a pointed look, signaling for him to loosen up the pressure.

But of course, he ignores you. All his attention is on the CEOs in-front of him. “Oh and who’s the lovely lady? Is she your assistant?” Someone asks, eyeing you with curiosity. Really man? You fought the urge to not roll your eyes.

“Oh no, she’s way more than that,” Jae chuckles, “This is my partner, Y/N, in every sense of the word. Although, between us, she’s not much help when it comes to the business side. Just a pretty face to show around.”

You look at him with widen eyes, feeling shock and humiliation. You can sense the mixture of pity and amusement from the CEOs as they look at you. In that moment you felt so small. You cleared your throat, “Excuse me.” You said as you removed yourself from his grasp, quickly walking away from them.

“Women, right? Can’t take a joke.” Jae sarcastically says as he takes a sip causing a laughter amongst the group.

______

Shoving the door of the banquet open, the loud noise of the chatter and music from the room fades away as the door closes behind you. Your heels echoed in the hallway as you desperately tried to find some sort of exit, feeling suffocated and humiliated.

After turning down some halls, you came across this French door that upon opening revealed to be a beautiful roof top garden. You sniffed as you sat down on the stone bench that was there, running a hand through your hair as you sobbed.

You shouldn’t be shocked at this point, you know that. But you just can’t help how you feel. Why must he be such an asshole. You sat there replaying the moment in your head. “I feel so stupid..” you said as you leaned your face into your hands as you cried.

Meanwhile back in the banquet, Yunho whose eyes never left your sight, saw you running away. He exchanged a look with Jae that was full of disappointment but quite frankly Jae could give a fuck about it. Yunho just knows that Jae did something to fuck this up.

As Yunho stepped out of the room, he looked all over for you. He was jogging down the hall but stopped in his steps once he saw that some doors were open and as he got closer he heard someone crying. When he stepped out, he saw you in your broken state.

As he approached you, the gravel under his feet made some noise but you were too caught up in your emotions that you didn’t hear foot steps approaching you. “Y/N?” He crouched down in front of you.

You jumped a bit not expecting to see anyone. “Oh my- Yunho, I’m so sorry,” you sniffed, wiping your face with the back of your hand. “I just- I- I’m sorry.” You sighed in defeat. “I don’t mean for you to see me in such state.” You said you turned to the side trying to compose yourself.

He doesn’t say anything as he stands up and takes his jacket off and he wraps it around you. You look up at him with puffy eyes and watched as he turns to the side and plucks a beautiful bloomed rose. “Here’s a flower for the woman whose beauty outshines any garden there is in life.” He says as he sits down next to you, tucking it gently in your hair.

You let out a small chuckle, touching the flower in your hair, “Thank you Yunho, that’s very sweet of you.” You say slightly nasally from the crying as you looked down. Feeling shy and embarrassed because you’re sure you look like a hot mess with your makeup all messed up.

“I mean it.” He says softly. He takes a minute then sighs. “May I ask a personal question? And apologies in advance if I have overstepped.” He asks you as he stares at your sadden state. You nodded, not even looking at him. “Why do you stay with a man who treats you like this?”

You take a deep breath, looking at him. “It’s complicated… We have been together for so long.” You sniffed, your voice was barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t always like this. He use to be so different.”

“But now?” Yunho asks as he listened intently, his expression softened at the sight of you.

“But now… I don’t know,” you looked down as you gripped Yunho’s jacket around you. “I think part of me stays because I hope he returns to being the guy he used to be to. Plus there’s so many other factors to it. Leaving isn’t as simple as it sounds.”

Yunho nodded in understanding. “While I do understand you, I just think you deserve someone who will treat you like the woman you are. It’s not worth crying over him.” He said turning your head to face him as he wipes your tears. The words he spoke ached your heart because it was the truth.

“You sure know how to make a girl feel good about herself, huh?” You chuckled at him causing him to laugh as well. His laugh was like music to your ears. He barely showed any emotions but when he did, it was a sight to see.

“Just doing my job,” he smiles. “But in all seriousness, you’re stronger than you think you are.” He says standing up, having the moonlight shine on his figure giving him that mysterious look from earlier.

You stood up as well, “Thank you for your kind words Yunho.” You said looking up at him. Suddenly the wind picked up a bit, causing you shiver. “Let’s go home, I’m sure his drunken self won’t even notice I’m gone.”

He nodded as he held his arm out for you to grab. You happily took it, feeling a bit tipsy from all the champagne you drank. Plus the crying didn’t help much. And with that you two left the building and headed home.

_____

You leaned your head against the window, watching the city lights has Yunho drove you both home. The drive was nice and quiet. You had told Yunho to take a different route because you honestly just didn’t want to go home.

But good things come to an end and here you are pulling into your driveway. You sat up in a surprise, feeling your heart quicken when you saw that Jae was home. “He’s home.” You muttered.

Yunho gave you a concerned look, “You want me to stay?” He asked seeing a bit of fear coming into your expression.

You nodded. “Yes. But I’ll handle it first, if anything happens I’ll call you.” When Jae had too much to drink, he was just so unbearable. You just know he was angry with you leaving so this combination of anger and liquor forms a knot in your stomach. But you were a strong woman who takes shit from no one.

You entered the house as saw no other than Jae sitting on the sofa, with a drink in his hand glaring at you. “Where the hell were you?” He slurred as he took a sip.

Yunho helped take off his jacket you still had on. “Yunho please give my husband and I a moment to talk.” You sarcastically said as Yunho nodded and left the room. You stood there arms crossed staring at him.

“Im going to ask you once more,” Jae said placing his drink down and walking to you. “Where the fuck were you?” He demanded.

You scoffed, your eyes turning icy, “Why? Afraid you couldn’t play pretend husband and wife? Afraid you couldn’t embarrass me to make yourself feel good about yourself?”

“Oh please,” Jae spat. “Again you go making it about your damn self. You embarrassed me with your dramatic walk out. Everyone asking what happened or where you went. You know tonight was important for me but no, you had to act like a damn bitch.” He yelled as he got way too close to comfort but you didn’t back down.

You pursed your lips, “You humiliated me Jae. Degrading me and saying I have done anything for this company when you know that’s completely bullshit. I’m fucking sick of you!” You yelled at him.

He let his anger take over as he grabs your neck and the his hand on your arm. “You don’t get to speak to me like that. You think you’re so much better than me? You wouldn’t last a day in my world.” He tighten the grip on both hands.

You were struggling to breathe as you dug your nails into his arm. “I know enough to understand that I deserve better than you.”

He laughed. “You need me. You never find anyone else. No one will ever want you, Y/N.” He spat with venom.

“Jae,” you said trying to remove his hand. “Jae you’re hurting me. Let go of me!” You yelled out in desperation.

He titled his head in fake sympathy, “Oh, why? You’re afraid? Scared even?” He taunted you.

It all happened so fast. Suddenly you felt like you can breathe again. You hunched over, hand on your neck as you coughed trying to regain your consciousness. When you looked up, you saw Yunho with his hand around Jae’s neck. His eyes were filled with rage, as if he has had enough of Jae’s bullshit.

“Don’t fucking touch her.” Yunho’s deep voice rang in the room. Jae was getting a taste of his own medicine as Yunho tightened the grip. “What a sad excuse of a man you are to be laying your hands on a woman.” He spat at him.

Jae stumbled trying to gain his balance as he tried his best to remove Yunho’s grip. “Stay the fuck out this,” he struggled to protest. “This is between my wife and I.”

Yunho towered over him, getting up close to his face. “Not when you’re hurting her.” He said watching Jae’s face turn red as he shoved him to a wall nearby.

“Let go of me!” He yelled at him. Yunho let him go, still standing close watching him fall to the floor, breathing heavy. Jae looks up at anger getting up to shove Yunho, “You think I’m fucking scared of you?!” He yells at him, chest heaving heavily.

“Touch her again and I’ll make you regret it.” Yunho said glaring into Jae’s eyes. Jae will never admit it, but deep down, he was scared of Yunho. He fucked around and found out right quick.

You grabbed Yunho’s arm. “Yunho, it’s okay.” You say weakly, still feeling the pain in your throat. But he didn’t budge at all eyes remaining on Jae. Jae just laughed bitterly, “Yeah, Yunho it’s okay,” he mocked you. “You better watch yourself, bodyguard.”

“Is that a threat?” Yunho asked, his voice was low and menacing getting closer to Jae who walked back causing him to bump into the wall.

Jae tsked and glared at Yunho. “Move,” he shoved Yunho as he walked to the stairs. “This isn’t over Y/N.” Throwing one last spiteful comment before heading up the stairs.

Watching his go up the stairs as you felt tears coming in. When you heard the door close you closed your eyes letting the tears stream down. Yunho put his finger under your chin gently tilting your head up examining your neck. “Are you okay?” He asks.

“That piece of shit.” You whispered as you felt on the verge of sobbing. “I’m so sorry Yunho.” You said, you looked down at the ground. You couldn’t help but feel remorse. Maybe you shouldn’t never brought up security, you could’ve saved Yunho his time.

Yunho cups your face, lifting your face to look at him. “Stop saying sorry.” He said firmly but kindly. “I’m here to protect you. No matter what.” You nodded as you sniffed, “Thank you Yunho.”

Jae never once laid a hand on you. But once the drinking and high status got into his head, there was no telling what he was capable of. He had gotten handsy with you, but you were always quick to fight back. You never thought you would need protection from your own husband.

“Of course. I’ll always be here for you.” He said giving you eyes of compassion. You couldn’t help but to hug him. If it wasn’t for him, who knows how else this night would’ve turned out. Yunho took a moment but eventually wrapped his arms around you, figuring that you needed someone to lean on right now.

____

The conference was a blessing in disguise because Jae had gotten the approval to open another location in a different state which means he will out of town for a while. Good riddance, you thought. Prior to leaving he was busy with meetings for the preparation of the new building, rarely seeing him after the dispute.

When you walked into the kitchen you saw a huge bouquet of flowers in the island. Grabbing the little note on the flowers, ‘I’m sorry for everything. Love, Jae.’ Feeling anger seeping in, you ripped the card to pieces throwing his half ass apology away. Staring at the flowers, you decided to keep them. Why should nature be thrown away when it wasn’t even its fault, it was his.

Now that Jae is gone, the sun is shining brighter, your smile lasts a little longer, the air feels clearer. It’s a good time to be alive. During this time you have been able to do the activities you enjoy in peace. Which naturally has gotten you and Yunho a bit closer.

One activity was shopping. When you walked into the store, your eyes sparkled with excitement as you saw the variety of clothes that was before you. Yunho, who had a serious expression the whole time, followed you around with a mountain of clothes that just kept piling up as you saw something that you wanted to try on.

When it came time to trying the clothes on, you would ask for his opinion and you can tell he was taking it serious and you couldn’t help but burst out into laughter. You stepped out the dressing room, seeing Yunho who was sitting on the sofa, legs spread open with his arms crossed waiting for you, looking to the side waiting for you.

Oh shit. He looked absolutely fine. Shaking your head, getting out of your thoughts you cleared your throat. “What do you think about this one Yunho?” You asked as you did dramatic modeling poses laughing a bit, doing a little twirl to look at the dress fully.

He sits up straight, his arm propped on his leg as he leans his chin on his head, eyebrows furrowed. Oh, he’s really thinking about it. “It’s not giving.” He said serious.

You stopped looking at yourself in the mirror and turned to face him with a playful look on your face, “It’s not what?” You asked, on the verge of laughing.

“It’s not giving…” he pauses, struggling to find a word to describe what he means. “I don’t think this on brings you out well. I think you should try on another dress.” He said as he turns to pick out a different dress handing it to you.

When he notices you staring at him with a smile on your face he shrugs. “What is it? What?”

You laugh as you grabbed the dress and headed to the dressing room. “I didn’t think you were a fashionista.” You smiled at him before closing the curtain. Little did you know, he smiled in secret enjoying this time with you. So this is how it is when you’re happy.

Another activity was when you went to the grocery store and just arm swiped a whole shelf of cookies into the cart Yunho was pushing. “Oh, the ice cream!” You said as you went to the frozen aisle. Yunho sighed as you went back forgetting something yet again. You wanted to pig out as you watched cringey cheesy movies which was right up your alley, Yunho not so much.

“Oh my god, why would she do that!” You yelled at the TV as you covered your face feeling second hand embarrassment from the actress in the movie. You sighed grabbing a spoon full of ice cream and eating it, “She messed up.”

“Yeah she did.” Yunho said flatly dreading that he agreed to watch these movies with you as he had his arms crossed. But you didn’t care as you tapped his arm pointing to the cookies near him, your eyes never leaving tv. “Pass the cookies please.” He sighed as he grabbed and passed them to you.

But honestly, although the hates the movies you have been binge watching, he stares at you in admiration as you are fully invested in the films. You’re too blinded by the films to feel his stares as he smiles at you slapping your forehead in defeat.

To also having him help you in working out which you were dreading now. He had suggested for you two have a nice morning run. But damn, you were huffing and puffing as your arms were leaning on your thighs trying to catch your breath. You hated yourself for agreeing to this.

He saw you falling behind and jogged back to you, “Come on. Don’t you want to burn off those cookies and ice cream?” He asked you jogging in place to keep his body warm.

“Shut the fuck up.” You said through your heavy breathing causing him to laugh at you. “I hate you.” You said getting back up and jogging ahead of him. He followed suit giving you words of motivation which caused you to grunt in annoyance. “I’ll throw up on you!”

To having Yunho stay at nights since you’re alone now, worried if anything happens to you in the middle of the night. As he walks past the living room, he sees that you fell asleep on the sofa. He smirks as he quietly walks to you, covering you with the blanket, tucking some hair behind your ear getting it out your face. He stops and stares at you for a bit, taking in how much you look in peace, something he was grateful for. He leaves, dimming the lights a bit and looking at you before leaving to another room.

_______

Time has passed and one thing stands out. These feelings for Yunho have grown no matter how much you try to push it back and deny it. You just tell yourself that this is just his job, you’re confusing his actions and your feelings.

You two are sitting on the sofa talking and laughing about random stuff. The way the afternoon sunlight hits Yunho’s face has you mesmerized, highlighting his features. The way the sun shines in his eyes as he looked at you got you in a trance. After the laugher subsided, he noticed that you went quiet. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Mm? Oh it’s nothing. Nothing.” You chuckled nervously. Damn, was it that obvious you went deep in thought?

But his gaze remained at yours as he asked again, not letting you dismiss your feelings quickly. “You know you can tell me anything right? You can tell me what’s on your mind.” He says.

You gave him a weak smile, “I don’t know if I can.” Your emotions sit heavy in your heart. You don’t think you can keep bottling up these feelings for him.

“Why can’t you?” He asks you. “It won’t change my judgement on you. You know you can talk to me.”

“You don’t know that.” You said, feeling a bit worried. “I don’t want to risk what we have.” You looked down, playing with a loose thread on your jacket.

“Why would you even think that?” He says softly as he gets a bit closer to you, wanting to get a better view of you.

You felt your heart pounding up to your ears. Feeling your palms sweaty. “I, um,” you started off, still looking down. You took in a deep breath, looking up into his eyes. “I’m in love with you…“ your voice trembling with vulnerability.

There was silence as you two stared at one another. Your heart was sinking, feeling regret settling in. You removed the blanket off you and stood up, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” You should’ve just stayed silent.

“Y/N, wait,” Yunho said in a low and urgent voice as he stood up and grabbed your arm. He turned you to face him and saw unshed tears in your eyes. He cupped your face and leaned his forehead onto yours.

He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, but he too can’t control his urges anymore. Without another word he leaned in and kissed you passionately. You held onto his wrists as you returned the kiss back. My god, you felt like time had stopped. You couldn’t believe this.

He breaks the kiss, panting a bit to catch his breath. “Y/N,” he says as he wiped your tears. “I love you too. So, so much. I’ve been wanting to tell you for so long.” He said in between pants, staring into your eyes.

“Yeah?” You whispered in shock. He kisses your hands as he nodded. “Yeah.”

It’s as if time had froze around you two, when you gently shoved Yunho to sit back down on the sofa. His eyes looking up at you with desire as you stand in front of him. “Come here.” He said to you, tapping his thigh, leaning back.

As soon as you straddled him, Yunho’s hands went behind your back, pulling you closer to him until there was no space between you. This kiss soon went from passion to hunger, wanting to express a different way to show how you feel for one another.

Yunho grabbed handful of your hair, tugging your head back as he peppered kiss down your neck, sucking on your skin leaving hickeys. You moaned in delight as you bit your bottom lip, enjoying this sensation.

And before you know it, you two are skin to skin, feeling the hot sweaty sticky bodies colliding perfectly. Electricity coursing through you body with every touch Yunho gives you. The way shivers went down your spine as he stretched you out when you first sat on him, letting you give him a high pitched moan.

The way your bodies melted into one another ignited a fire. The mixture of moans was melody to your ears. His hands were on your ass, helping you to quicken the pace of your hips, “Oh, oh Yunho,” you furrowed your eyebrows and threw your head back in pleasure, hands on his shoulders for support. “Fuckkk, you feel s-so good.”

Yunho stands up, carrying you as he’s still inside you to flip positions. He lays you down on your back and caresses your legs that are wrapped around him. “Fuck, keep doing that baby.” He grunts as he feels you clenching around him. He moves his hands between your chest and up to your neck, “Can I?” He asks for permission. “Yes, please.” you moaned as you arched your back throwing your head back.

He gave your throat a nice squeeze as he started pounding into you causing you to do some deep breathing techniques, because this man was spreading you out like never before. You threw your hands back, gripping the arm chair for dear life. “You like that baby? Who’s making you feel like this?” He asks you. Fuck, that was hot.

He lifts your legs up to get a deep angle, “Answer me.” He demands as he goes faster. You tried gripping the sides of the sofa or just something to hold on to, “Y-Yes, Yunho, you a-are.” You moaned loudly. He was taking you cloud 9, making you see stars, the whole nine yards.

He flips you around on to all fours. You leaned on the arm rest with your arms supporting you as Yunho grabbed your hair back making your arch your back. He wasted no time going back in, his free hand rubbing your clit, giving you the friction you needed to cum.

“You want to cum on my dick, baby?” He asked you lowly in your ear. You nodded frantically, “Yes please, please.” You begged as he bit your ear. He let go of your hair and flips you for the last time. He wants to see your face when you release on him.

“Cum for me then.” He says as he moves at a rapid speed. You bit your lip in the overwhelming pleasure you’re feeling. He had leaned down and sucked on your nipple, but looked up when he heard your muffled moans, “Scream for me, don’t be quiet.”

You gripped onto his arms, feeling yourself inching closer and closer to your release. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Yunho I’m gonna cum.” You yelled out, breathing heavy. He lets go of your nipple and hovers over you, “Do it baby, cum on my cock, cum.”

Just like that the knot was undone. He kissed you as you moaned into his mouth. You felt like you had traveled to another universe from how good that orgasm was. A few seconds later Yunho was right behind you, cumming inside of you. He rode out both of your highs and then laid on top of you.

Feeling each other fasten heart beats as you both catch your breath. He looks up at you and smiles to which your return as you ran your hand through his sweaty hair, “I love you.” He said, closing his eyes enjoying your sweet touch.

“I love you too.” You said as you just laid there for a moment, taking it what just happened. Internally you were doing cartwheels and backflips. You were happy knowing he felt the same way you did.

______

All good things must come to a because Jae has returned, along with his bullshit. What was once peace is now back to being a war zone of arguments and anger. Something else was for certain, he definitely has sensed something was going on between you and Yunho and it was eating him up alive.

And from the way the front door was slammed shut, it seems like he was going to get his answer today. “You. Leave. Now.” He says sternly to Yunho as he entered the room.

Yunho glanced at you, but you nodded in return signaling that it was okay. He started to walk out, giving you one last protective glance before disappearing. Jae’s eyes followed him out before looking back at you. “Y/N, tell me what the hell has been going on between you two.” He demanded.

You rolled your eyes, flipping through the magazine not bothering to look up at him. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.” You said coldly, your tone unwavering.

“I know something happened while I was gone so just fucking tell me.” Jae yells at you, his fist clenching at his sides.

You looked up at him, “and if something did?” You shrugged “You think it gives you the right to be angry with me, given everything you have done?” You said with attitude as you went back to your magazine.

Jae’s face contorted with rage, shaking his head. “This isn’t about me. This about you, my wife” He says coming up close to you. There he goes with that wife word.

You chuckled, throwing the magazine to the side standing up. “Only when it’s convenient for you Jae. Why? Scared of losing control of this whole fake facade?” You walked past him, over this argument.

He grabs the vase that held the flowers he gifted you and threw it to the wall. You jumped at the sound, turning to face him with widen eyes. His back was still facing you as Jae looked down. From your corner you saw Yunho coming but you put your arm out for him to wait.

“Fucking tell me and don’t lie to me Y/N.” Jae said as he turned around with rage in his eyes. Knowing that Yunho was here in the house, he kept his distance from you as he was terrified of him.

“I’m in love with Yunho.” You finally said after some silence. He shook his head and scoffed at you, “How fucking could you? You would this to me?”

You scoffed at his stupidity. “Oh, so now you want to act like a victim? How many times have you cheated on me behind my back Jae? How many woman? So when the tables turn, it’s an issue all of a sudden.” You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow.

He gets closer to you, trying to intimidate you. “So what? You’re just going to leave me and be with the bodyguard? Do you honestly think he can give you what I can’t? You think you can just walk away from me? After everything I have done for you?”

You laughed in his face. “For me? For me?” You started off, “You mean your own personal punching bag? Where I’m constantly disrespected and treated like an accessory? Where I’m always ignored and you go screw some bitch? The only thing you have done was to teach me to never be with someone like you.”

“If you think you’re going to work out with some cheap fling then you’re more delusional than I thought.” He spat at you as you walked away from him.

“Cheap fling? Yunho is more of a man than you will ever be. He’s been everything and more to me than you ever were.” You stopped in your steps, facing him.

You looked down at your rings and take it off. This caused Jae to die a little inside. “I want a divorce.” You chucked it at his feet, leaving the room. Jae looked down at his feet and stared at the rings causing anger to boil inside him to the point he punched the wall.

As you passed the hallway, Yunho, who was ready to jump in at anytime, follows behind you. “Let’s go.” You told him as you grabbed your car keys and walked out the door.

Asking no questions, just focused on you, he opens the door for you and just as you are about to get in, you hear Jae yelling in frustration, telling you to get back inside as he starts breaking stuff. You rolled your eyes as you got into seat. Yunho walked to the driver side and drove off.

———-

The car ride was silent, only noise was the AC that was on low. You looked out the window, watching the cars passing by. “I’m getting a divorce.” You said out loud breaking the silence.

“Wow,” you said in awe of yourself. “I’m getting a divorce.” You couldn’t believe that it’s taken you this long and that you finally did it.

“How are you feeling? Are you okay?” Yunho asks as he takes a quick glance at you. He really can’t read your expression and words clearly right now.

“I think I am?” You said unsure, giving him a shrug. “I don’t know, I feel like I should be but I’m just so overwhelmed. Like, there were so many times I told myself I was done, but never did anything. And now I just- I think I feel free.”

Yunho stops a red light and reaches over to grab your hand. He raised it to his lips as he gave a gentle kiss on the back of it. “I’m really proud of you Y/N. Whatever you do next, I’ll be there every step of the way supporting you.”

The way you were blushing like a school girl at his gesture. You smiled at him, “Thank you Yunho. Thank you for showing me what love is.” You caressed his cheek as you leaned in for a kiss.

______

One thing is certain for Jae, he can rot in hell. He didn’t not waste any time in spreading the news about the divorce publicly. It spread like wildfire throughout the media as it was plastered on magazines, spoken on drama news TV channels, on social apps. You name it, it was there.

The headlines painted the picture of the split, highlighting the scandalous nature of the breakup. And Jae, being a beloved figure, wanting to keep the good man persona in the people’s eye, threw all the blame on you.

You were under so much intense scrutiny, that it became suffocating. You were portrayed as the villain in this whole chaos while Jae was viewed as the innocent victim. As if he could stoop any lower than before, he definitely broke a new record.

At first, you just tried toughing it out. Trying to ignore the whispers and gossip. The harsh looks when you went out. Paparazzi was so far up your ass you couldn’t move without them knowing. But it was hard to escape from the public’s judgement.

One evening, you were at Yunho’s place, which is where you have been staying, skimming through a magazine that had a featured about another headline of you. Yunho who had sense your distress, quickly takes the magazine out of your hands. “Y/N, look at me,” he says he sits on the coffee table, grabbing your hands. “You don’t have to let this get to you. They don’t know the true.”

You looked up at him with sadness in your eyes. “It’s not just about the truth Yunho. It’s about everything!” You stand up as you walked back and forth, “it’s about how this guy who I thought I knew and spent the majority of my life with is out to ruin my life. It’s about everyone quickly believing his lies… I didn’t ask for this. I can’t take this anymore.”

Yunho sighs as he walks up to you, cupping your face. “Listen to me, please,” he leans his forehead, “You’re a strong woman. You have been through hell and back. You have never backed down from a fight. You never once let Jae’s manipulation and bullshit break you, and you’re not going to let this either.” He said as he watched you close your eyes as tears fall down.

You sniffed. “How can I fight this?” You whispered. You honestly felt so lost and broken, you don’t even know what to do or where to start.

“You’re not alone in this. Out in the public you can put a mask of fierceness, show the world you aren’t afraid of what Jae is doing. Show them just how strong and unbreakable you are.” He gives you a tender kiss. “But when we’re behind closed doors, baby, you don’t have to keep the facade. You can lean on me. We can do this.” He says as he hugs you.

You felt like sobbing. Is this what true love is? Throughout this whole darkness, Yunho has been your rock and you honestly don’t know how you would be if you were alone. You’re so thankful for him. “Yunho, thank you. Thank you for being in my life.” You looked up to him as he leaned down and kissed you once more.

______

If Jae wants to play like this, then you can play this game too. After the conversation with Yunho, you felt a fire ignited within you. That conversation helped you remember who the fuck you were and there was no way in hell Jae was going to go out like this.

For the next few weeks you laid low. Out of sight out of mind with the public. Your divorce lawyer, who was sent by the Gods by a miracle, told you to gather all information on your part as she does some digging on her side. Today you were meeting with her and not gonna lie you were sweating bullets.

Who knows what she has found. Did she even find anything? Will she be able to clear your name and reveal who Jae really was? This was also one of the few times you left the house so you just know you were going to be bombarded with questions and cameras in your face.

As the car pulls up, you looked out the window and saw reporters spread all over the place, waiting for you. You then felt Yunho’s hand over yours, causing you to snap out your thoughts. “It’s going to be okay.” He reassures you as you nod. He steps out the car and heads to the other side to open your door.

You can do this, you thought yourself as you put on your shades. Show Jae that you are that bitch. As soon as Yunho opened the door, everyone came flooding in asking a bunch of questions.

You just kept a serious face, purse hanging on your arm as you walked up the stairs while Yunho and other guards of his were making way for you. You tried your best to not react at the stupid questions they asked you.

“Y/N, how does it feel to know that you ruined your marriage?” One asked.

“Was it worth it to you? Care to comment?” One said shoving a microphone in your face.

“Have you spoken to Jae?” Another asked.

Oh and let us not forget the special, special fans of Jae who were also surrounding you were throwing nasty comments at you.

“Don’t you know how to keep your legs closed?” One screamed in your face. You bit down on your tongue, trying not to answer.

“Such a slut. Did all those years mean nothing to you?” One went to jump on you but Yunho shoved her off.

“Have you no shame in bringing him here? Have you no shame in being in public with him? Stupid bitch.” Another one said speaking about Yunho.

You finally reached the door and headed straight to the elevator. When it binged open, you and Yunho stepped in and turned to face the crowd before you. Seeing the flashing lights of the cameras and crazed fans pounding on the glass, their yells being muffled. As soon as the doors closed, you turned and hugged Yunho.

You felt the world crushing in on you in that moment. You had a mixture of overwhelming emotions clouding up your head. Anger, sadness, frustration. You just wanted to cry in silence and thankfully Yunho understood.

You then backed up and wiped your tears, taking in a deep breath. Yunho lifted your chin with his finger as he gave you a soft kiss on your lips. “You got this.” He whispered and you nodded.

The elevator dinged, signaling that you have arrived to the top floor. You straighten up your posture, keeping your head high as you walked the halls. “Stay here.” You told Yunho who nodded and stood next to the door putting his arms behind his back.

You walked in and was greeted by Jina. “Y/N,” she says standing up and shaking your hand, smiling to which you returned. “Welcome. Thank you for coming.”

You shook your head. “No please, I am the one who should be thankful.” She gestures you to sit down. “So tell me, what have you found?”

She wasted no time in take out files and spreading out copies of documentation and photos of Jae with other business men, “Jae’s time of looking like a saint is over. We have found evidence to that showcases all of the cheating and unethical practices within his company,” she starts off as she goes through each paper, describing to you all the horrible practices he has done.

You sat there in shock, taking in the information. You couldn’t believe this was happening everyday behind closed doors. Jae gets scummier and scummier by the minute. You leaned back into your seat letting out a scoff as you scan the papers. Jina then takes out a paper and hands it to you, “What’s this?” You asked her as you take it from her hand.

Jina smirks as she crossed her leg over the other, leaning back crossing her arms. “Signed affidavits of several woman who have confirmed that they have had affairs with Jae while he was married to you.” You looked at her with widen eyes. The devil works hard, but Jina works harder. “Look in that folder.” She points to one near your left arm.

You gasped looking at photos that had Jae partying or going out with women. You see his drunk self doing body shots on girls as well as inappropriate gestures to them. Ugh, you could throw up. Jina nodded as you looked through the pictures, feeling a bit proud of herself.

“And the Cherry on top?” There’s more? “We also have evidence from Jae’s company, NexTech, has been doing fraud, bribery, and exploitation of employees. Let’s just say he has been cutting some corners and violating labor laws to maximize his profits.” She finished off.

You shook your head, just flabbergasted at everything you’re finding out. “Jina,” you said after a moment of silence. “There are no words to describe how thankful I am. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.” You said feeling a sense of hope rising in your chest.

She leans over the desk, placing a hand on top of yours. “Of course.” She smiles. “It’s only a matter of time before everything is unraveled. Everyone will know the real truth.”

______

It was later on in the night. You were pacing in Yunho’s living room with gnawing on your thumb in nerves. “Y/N,” Yunho called to you as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Relax. Everything will be okay.” He says trying to calm you down.

You were just caught up in your mind that you didn’t even hear him. Jina told you she was going to release the information tonight and honestly, you were shitting bricks wondering what the out come will be. You felt arms being wrapped around your waist, causing you get out of your thoughts.

“Y/N,” Yunho says as he leans down and kisses your neck. “Why don’t we go relax, mmh? You had a stressful day.” Peppering kisses up and down your neck.

You closed your eyes as you bit your lip, swaying a bit, lifting your hand to caress his head. “Okay. Let’s relax.” You sighed softly. He takes your hand gives you a little twirl, causing you to chuckle, before leading the way to the bathroom.

Steam was swirling in the bathroom as you two passionately kissed under the water. Both of your bodies lathered up with soap, foaming at the little friction you two created. You bit his lower lip, opening your eyes in a haze to look at his face scrunch a bit from the pain. You felt your heart race a bit when he opened his lustful eyes to look at you.

He glided his up your back, tugging your hair gently back causing you to moan in his mouth. Your arms over his shoulders, feeling the warm water slide down your arms and onto Yunho’s body. His free hand slides to down to cup your ass, giving it a squeeze.

In a swift movement, he presses you up against the foggy glass. Your hand prints and pressed up breast showcasing on the glass, turning your head to the side looking at Yunho stroking himself through your peripheral. You bit your lip, feeling your pussy throbbing, impatiently wanting to feel him again.

He placed his hand above yours as his other one guides him inside you. You gasped as the sensation of the stretch, leading more on the glass as the feeling takes over you. His free had placed on your hip as he starts thrusting into you.

The sound of the water clashing between you two intensifies as Yunho starts going faster. The bathroom is filled with the sounds of skin slapping and the moans of pleasure. “You feel so good baby.” Yunho said in his deep voice. “Just for me, right?” He grabs your hair, pulling you back so he can see your fucked out face.

You swallowed, feeling your throat dry from the heavy breathing you’re doing. “Ye-Yes,” you said, feeling your hands slip, trying to catch yourself from falling. “Just for you.”

He smirked as your struggle. “Good girl.” His deep voice made you clench on him, making him moan as letting go of your hair to your clit as he rubbed it. You caught yourself before hitting the glass as you started screaming in pleasure. You started whimpering from the rapid speed he was going. “Cum baby, I know you want to.” He tells you.

You fogged and defogged a spot on the glass that was near your mouth as you tried catching your breath with Yunho shoving your face into it. You shut your eyes tightly as you were nearing your high. “I’m clo-close.” You managed to moaned out. At the same time you and Yunho came, feeling stars as he rode out the highs. “That’s right baby, scream for me. Let everyone know who’s making you feel like this.” He grunts out.

When you two calmed down, you turned around and leaned on the glass, not caring how cold it was. He smiled at you, “Feel better?” He asked you and you playfully hit his chest. “Shut up.” You told him as you both laughed. He put his hands next to your face on the glass and he went for a kiss.

When you actually finished showering, you stepped out scrunching your hair and wrapping a towel around your body, tucking the excess at the top to stop it from falling. From the corner of your eye you saw your phone light up. ‘Turn on Channel 2’, read Jina’s text message.

You gasped with widen eyes as you ran out to the living room, feeling the goosebumps rise on your skin as soon as the cold hits your skin. You grabbed the remote flipping through channels not caring about the droplets of water that were falling from your hair were landing on your arms.

“In recent news, Jae’s public image continues to crumble as more details emerge about his affairs and the unethical practices at his company. It is confirmed that these allegations are supported by fundamental evidence,” the reporter says as the screen shows Jae shoving cameras out his face as he is trying to enter a building. He starts yelling at them to get out his face.

“Former employees have provided detailed accounts of the harsh working conditions along with the illegal activities at Jae’s company.” The documents being shown on the screen explain detail per detail on how things were being run.

“Furthermore, details of Jae’s extramarital affairs have also been revealed,” she says as the same photos you saw in the office appeared on the screen too. Your heart is pounding out of your chest. “Multiple woman have come forward and shared evidence along with sources who can confirm his involvement in said acts.”

The reporter finished off by saying, “Legal experts believe this is going to be leading to very serious repercussions for both his business and personal life. As of right now, this is all we have. Stay tune for future updates.” You watch as the screen changes to commercials.

“Y/N?” Yunho who was there behind you the whole time watching everything unfold breaks the silence. “Are you okay?” He asks you.

You turned to him, smiling. “It’s over. I’m free.” You said feeling tears of joy coming in. He extends his hand out and you happily grab it as he pulls you to him. “I’m proud of you. I told you that you could do it.”

“Thank you for being by my side every step of the way, Yunho. I love you.” You say as you kissed him. He smiles into the kiss, “I love you more.”

“Now come on, let’s celebrate.” He says he breaks the kiss. You tilt your head, “Where we going?” You asked him. He smirked as he picks you up bridal style, “It’s best if I show you.”

Oh yeah, you can get use to this.

THE END

#ateez scenarios #ateez #Yunho #yunho x reader #jeong yunho #yunho smut #ateez yunho #yunho x you #yunho x y/n #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez reactions #ateez hard hours #Yunho ateez #yunho icons #yunho hard thoughts

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windvexer · 5 months ago

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Theme and Action: a tarot method for brainstorming plots, setting, and characters

I find a lot of story brainstorming spreads to be clunky and rigid, so I did a little experimenting and came up with a method I like a lot. I haven't done a ton of testing yet but I thought I'd share what I have.

Basically, it's a two card draw from a deck split into majors and minors. Each draw always has one major card (theme) and one minor card (action).

When you have a question, like:

What are some ideas for the next scene?

Why would that character behave that way?

What's the defining characteristic of this vampire clan?

What do the people in this society fear most?

Why is this scene dragging?

What does this character need to feel more real?

You would draw one major card and one minor card!

Themes and Action; what it's about vs how it manifests

We could call these cards a bunch of different things depending on exactly how the question is framed, but Themes and Action are good enough.

Basically, the major arcana card gives subtext or context, and the minor arcana card provides specific incidents. Like this!:

"In my vampire setting, what is the most important thing in vampire culture?"

Theme: Death

Action: 10/Pentacles

Interpretation: (Theme) The most important thing in vampire culture is the process of dying and the equalizer of death itself. (Action) This has resulted in cultural rituals where death is treated as a sacred adoption or initiation into a new family/estate.

(I really drew this test spread and it really was death lol)

We can swap out the Action card to see a different outcome:

Theme: Death

Action: 5/Swords

Interpretation: (Theme) the most important thing in vampire culture is the process of dying and the equalizer of death itself. (Action) the horror of death and loss has never been overcome in this society, and it must be dealt with as an individual - because vampires process the pain of their own deaths by taking it out on each other.

Here's a different example. In an urban fantasy book where a witch solves ghost mysteries, pacing is dragging and we need our next scene to be exciting. But despite a foot chase after a suspected ghost poacher, the scene doesn't feel fast paced or exciting. The question is, "how do we spice this up?"

Theme: Hermit

Action: King of Cups

Interpretation: (Theme) instead of a crowded street, the character will be isolated and without normal support. (Action) she'll be trapped in a closed space with the story's main villain, who most closely connects with the King of Cups

Another swap, this time switching out the theme card:

Theme: Empress

Action: King of Cups

Interpretation: (Theme) the scene feels boring because it's action without development. Show the main character's personal development and give her a 'level up' moment. (Action) have the ghost poacher lead her to a premature showdown with the main villain, whom she faces bravely for the first time.

This is already long so I'm not going to go on and on with examples but so far I've found this method to be pretty versatile.

Try interpreting Theme and Action as literally as you can within the context of the story!

If you're writing a story about a flower princess who sleeps on a dewdrop in the mystical Gnarlwood Forest, the Sun card will mean one thing.

If you're writing a story about vampires, the Sun card probably means something very different.

Major arcanas can be literary themes, like the moon representing deceit within society, but they can also be literal; in a werewolf story, the Moon card might represent the celestial body that controls the lives of certain people.

The most important thing for me is to avoid interpreting the cards in a general self-help sense.

The cheerful villagers of prosperous Splitsky Castle are waiting for you to invent a festival so a mysterious stranger can come to town and get the plot going.

The question is, "what kind of festival gives me the right setup to pull off the plot point I want?"

The theme card is the Magician, so ideas for the festival could be:

A festival honoring magic users (if they exist in your setting)

A festival honoring the resourcefulness of the villagers

A festival of stage magic and trickery

The action card is the 6/Cups.

Probably, the festival is not about healing your inner child with Jungian shadow work. More contextual ideas might include:

A festival where children are chosen to be trained in magic

A festival celebrating teaching the next generation important skills

A festival meant to delight and entertain children with stage magic

Developing related factions or foils

Draw a major arcana card to identify a certain Theme, maybe along the lines of:

What do they hold to be sacred?

What do they not care about, or hate?

What is their most cherished virtue?

What is the defining feature of leadership?

When they sing about home, what is in their songs?

This theme will be the same for both entities.

Draw different minor arcana cards to show how each entity expresses that theme.

Conversely, work in the opposite direction: keep the minor arcana card for both entities, and swap out the theme card.

Finding Action cards when you know the Theme

Holding the deck so that it's facing you, thumb through the cards until you find the major arcana card that describes your theme. The most recent minor arcana card that was on top of it, even if separated by other majors, is the action card.

Reversals

I tend to read both cards as upright and reversed, and just apply whatever meanings are most relevant. In my experiments using reversals ended up being too finicky and specific, and limited my creativity.

Complex Concepts and Plots

For a complex reading, like plotting an entire novel or building an entire character, I have found more utility in doing many pair readings rather than doing one large spread with many pairs.

My tests so far have suggested that the most creative freedom is found in asking specific questions, like "what is this character's driving motivation," and "what is her quirky hobby," and "what makes her put up with her annoying best friend," rather than trying to build a giant spread that includes all of these things at once.

As a caveat, in plot spreads, I will sometimes put pairs down without returning them to the deck, and then connect Theme/Action pairs with single action cards to suggest events that connect the dots.

#tarot #tarot spreads #character spread #plot spread #setting spread #writing spread

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hansensgirl · 11 months ago

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summary. | Your boyfriend’s stepmother’s feelings for you are more than platonic.

prompts. | Natasha Romanoff + Boyfriend’s Stepmother + “You’re shaking so much, honey… Just wait until I get my tongue on you.” + Obsession, requested by Anonymous.

pairing. | dark!boyfriend’s stepmom!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, age gap, boyfriend’s stepmother, cheating (ish), lying, deceit, manipulation, grooming/conditioning (?), stalking, obsession, delusion, perversion, pet names, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics.

Natasha dotes on you so much that you can’t help but listen to her every word. It’s the least you could do for your boyfriend’s stepmother.

She’s putting together a dinner to celebrate an accomplishment of yours. When she brought the idea up, you said it was too much. She already does enough for you, like paying your bills when ends don’t meet or your boyfriend is too careless to help. But Natasha insisted, and who are you to deny a woman like her? She’s kind but intimidating. She puts her stepson in his place and rules over the household, which you applaud her for. You usually have to repeat yourself ten times just to get your boyfriend to listen to you.

“Aw, shit,” Natasha bemoans, looking down at her chest. Her hands feel around her neck, looking for something that isn’t there. Right now, it’s just the two of you. Your boyfriend is out with his father, buying alcohol and catching up, as the older woman said.

Natasha told them to be home by 8, but knowing them, it’ll probably just be you two for tonight. You don’t mind—you need a break from the men in your life.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, rushing to her side. She told you to set the table while she cooks. You leave the napkins and utensils in the dining room and hurry to the kitchen. “Oh, it’s nothing,” Natasha brushes you off, waving her hand.

“No, it must be something. Tell me,” you push, wanting to help in any way possible. Sometimes, you feel utterly useless compared to the older woman. “I forgot my necklace. Remember you gave it to me for my birthday? I wear it all the time—it’s like my good luck charm,” Natasha pouts. You smile.

“I can go get it for you if you’d like,” you offer, more than willing to do whatever she asks of you. It’s odd—you’ve never felt this way before. Perhaps it’s how Natasha welcomes you with open arms and takes your side no matter what. At times, you would jokingly wish that you were dating her instead.

“Would you be a doll? I’d really appreciate it, sweetie,” she coos, patting your arm. She always finds a way to touch you, but you never mind it. You nod your head and make your way upstairs, forgetting which room is Natasha’s for a second.

It’s the farthest down the hall. You twist the doorknob gently and open the door, entering her personal space. You’ve never been in here before, and even with her permission, it feels odd. You flick the light switch on and begin to search her dresser.

You don’t find the familiar necklace—the one with a black swan on it. You pull open each drawer, hopeful, and shut them, dejected. Nothing.

You look around Natasha’s room—maybe it’s on her bedside table. You go to open it until something catches your eye. You turn around and squint in confusion.

It’s a bulletin board. It should be in Natasha’s office, but it isn’t. Your curiosity gets the best of you and you walk closer, inspecting each note, each photograph, each paper.

You gasp in horror when you find candid images of yourself taken without you knowing. The papers have your private information—government files, hospital reports, and academic records. The notes have details about yourself and your family, some things you’ve never told a soul but yourself.

Horror fills you. Your stomach drops, and you feel nauseous. The woman you thought you knew is someone far more secretive—and perverted—than believed. Most photos are of you naked or almost there.

You know you have to get out of here, so you turn towards the door, only to find Natasha with her arms crossed, staring at you.

“Oh, sweetie. I’m sorry you had to find out like this,” she coos, striding closer. You step back until you hit the wall—the same one with the bulletin board. “That you’re stalking me?” you incredulously ask. Natasha tuts.

“No—don’t say that,” she seethes. Her anger has you flinching, especially when she puts her hands on you. The older woman tries to hug you, but you pull away from her, pressing against the wall as if you could ever escape her.

“You’re shaking so much, honey… Just wait until I get my tongue on you,” Natasha chuckles. Your face twists in disgust. “Oh, don’t be like that. Mommy knows just how to make you feel good—better than your stupid boyfriend ever could,” she says.

Natasha presses kisses on your face, and you turn your head away from her as best as possible, but she grabs and holds your face tightly. And despite your fear, she is still as kind as always.

#sab’s dark concepts (2023)#natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #black widow #the avengers #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #dark!natasha x reader #dark natasha romanoff #dark natasha x reader #dark!natasha romanoff #scarlett johansson #sabs concepts #request #drabble

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ozymandian-hymn · 1 month ago

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YOU — "The- this... is... L'Manberg.."

DRAMA — Now we're up in shit's creek with naught a paddle, my liege. Sorry.

Drama is up next! this is like the Hymn filler episode, i don't have a muse to continue my other stuff yet so this is what you get

I sure tried to squeeze in some Stuff in there, like the stupid omnipresent tricorn hat among others. I switched to the regular portrait look (completely missing the point of the hazy look of the Skills, yes, leave me alone) since trying to emulate the dry brushing of the original skill is miserable.

just got here and don't understand what Drama is or what the hell did I just draw? Here's one straight from the Disco Elysium wiki! (yes, this is a Disco Elysium AU where I slap on the skills on the characters)

Play the actor. Lie and detect lies.

Cool for: Undercover Cops, Thespians of the Stage, Psychopaths

Drama urges you to treat the world as a stage – and on it, to perform. It will enable you to lie, to concoct the most elaborate and wonderful stories; to take on ingenious personas and perform acts of stagecraft in an entertaining amalgam of fourberie and deceit! As well, it enables you to see through would-be actors and their false antics. If they lie, you’ll know. Immediately.

At high levels, Drama may render you an insufferable thespian – one prone to hysterics and bouts of paranoia; for to know the world is a stage is to know that Truth is a Vanity. However, with low Drama you cannot lie – or discern when others lie. And a cop who can’t do either is a cop who’s soon going to be lying six feet under.

Now, who does that sound like? Hoho!

#dsmp au #c!wilbur #(trust me)#dsmp fanart #pogbur #happy. er. 21 days before Nov 16 #hymndraws #disco lazare

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fazedlight · 4 months ago

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Bitter (from 5x06 Confidence Women)

The plan was simple.

Lena smashed her glass coffee table to the floor as she explained the plan to Andrea. She would beckon Supergirl to her, then jam all signals from the DEO. Andrea - as the shadow - would be able to sneak in and free Russell. The ex she’d do anything for, Lena’s mind shot back bitterly.

Lena handed off her q-wave device, which Andrea would activate to incept the DEO agents to do no harm. Lena didn’t tell Andrea of her plan after the escape was complete - she would get the medallion from Andrea, and she had no qualms in using the same device to force it. Which won’t be necessary if Andrea makes this easy, Lena thought. After all, she was owed.

Andrea nodded to Lena's explanation, fading to the shadows as Lena activated her watch, taking her place on the floor. It was only a matter of time.

Thoughts danced somewhere in Lena’s mind as she closed her eyes and waited - Andrea’s face as she lied to her in the jungle, mixing with Kara’s endless stuttering deceit. Andrea’s smug smile in London as she wore the medallion proudly around her neck merging with Kara’s surprised grin at her new supersuit. Kara had just confessed to lying to Lena for years - to destroying everything they had ever had - yet it had been easy for the kryptonian to switch to delight just from wearing pants.

Lena swallowed back her bile as she heard the double tap of boots. “Lena,” came the blonde’s voice, “Lena, Lena-”

“Kara,” Lena murmured back, pushing herself off the floor, “Thank god you’re here, it was horrible-”

Kara’s concerned face and warm arms brought a traitorous flutter to Lena’s heart, almost distracting her from the task of sliding her fingers over to activate the DEO jammer. Lena felt herself choke slightly as she tried not to melt into Kara’s embrace, trying to keep the cold protective layer between them.

But her mind couldn’t help but linger for a moment. This was the warm embrace that held her when Jack died. Who hugged her when she had been freed from prison, who believed in her name. This was the concerned face of a friend who brought her flowers and Belly Burger, who stood tall in the crowd amidst the Luthor haters in a show of support. It was never real, Lena thought, her mind going back to the footage of Kara burning away the evidence of her deceit, Kara, Andrea, they were never real.

Lena forced herself to let go - desperate, reluctant - and began the false tale of her home invasion. She tried not to spend too long looking into those soft blue eyes, instead reminding herself of the medallion she’d have by the end of the night.

Maybe then, she could have a piece of herself back.

#was in the middle of writing a fic where Lena's anger had already dissipated and I felt like writing a brief interlude of her anger #lena luthor #supercorp #mel writes ficlets

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pavedinashes-if · 1 year ago

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Paved in Ashes

The only constant in your life is the board beneath your feet.

Slice of Real Life Drama Focus: Romance and Life Struggles

⫸ STORY:

You're only 20 when suddenly your life goes bam! Throwing you into a whole new city, a different country even. Wasn't part of the plan, but you know how life loves to mess with plans. People happened, stuff happened, and suddenly you're on the move. The new chapter ahead? Buckle up, 'cause it's not gonna be all sunshine and rainbows. And guess what? Your step-mom? Yeah, she's right there in the same city. She's always had this knack for trying to steer your ship, like every decision's a GPS checkpoint.

But hey, there's this one thing that's never let you down—your skateboard. It's like the buddy that's been with you through thick and thin, the one that never bails. Among all this craziness it's like your anchor. So, the big question is—can you break out of the loop you got in? Find your place in the world and restart or lose yourself in temptation? Time to find out.

⫸ LOCATION:

Hamburg, Germany - Known as the Gateway to the World, featuring Germany's most sinful mile. Welcome to your new home!

⫸ YOU: Customize your own Main Character

Looks: Hair, Body, Scars, Piercings & Tattoos and much more

Gender identity and sexual orientation

Personality: Sarcastic / Genuine, Rude / Polite, Grumpy / Friendly, Aggressive / Peaceful, Stoic / Emotional, Shy / Bold, Deceitful / Honest, Arrogant / Humble, Selfish / Generous, Oblivious / Aware, Disinterested / Curious, Cautious / Reckless

Nickname: What do people call you?

Fashion: Pick your clothes to match your personality

Custom Skateboard: Design the look of your board

Skate Style: What's your riding style?

Vices: Alcohol, Drugs, Smokes, Gambling, Aggression, Self-Harm

Job: pick one of several professions - or don't

Hobbies: pick a hobby that makes you happy

Housing: live with your step-mom, find a place for yourself, share a flat - or don't

ATTENTION - Regarding Qs

inbox open for game-related asks, No scenario asks, what if asks Progress updates will be posted once there is something to announce

DEMO: Prologue, 24. October 2024—Dashingdon Link [23k words]

⫸ FEATURES: Juggle a new home, new friends, new romance, new profession, new temptations, old and new vices, crazy night life, your stepmother and build yourself a reputation out there.

⫸ ALL 12 DATEABLE & OTHER NON-DATEABLE CHARACTERS BELOW All romance in this story is optional and can be skipped all together if preferred. Still, the platonic relationships will be rewarding and deep on a different level. There are poly options available and each character has their own expectations, needs, wishes and desires, which you'll have to discover.

Note: Throughout the story, you'll encounter the ROs at various points. However, not all of them are destined to remain in your life; some seek fleeting enjoyment while others might become sources of annoyance. Just like reality, there's a mix of success and setbacks, reminding you that heartache is an authentic part of the journey. #heartacheisreal E.g.: If you behave like an a*hole, there's a chance they'll break up with you.

⫸ DATE OPTIONS - Overall 12 ROs & flings available

Samual / Samantha "Sam" Peters, 25 - 💙

Your Neighbour [m/f]:

Occupation: Police Officer - Life's flipped you into a whole new city, right? Newsflash! Next door's got a friendly face that's making things a bit less chaotic. Only thing is, you're starting to wonder if there's more to this neighbor than the casual chats. Are they keeping something under wraps? 💬 "In front of my eyes? Are you serious?" ♡ Loyal, Observant, Dedicated, Reliable, Friendly & Approachable 🚩Overprotective, Controlling, Difficulty Switching Off 🛹 Does not skate Looks: tba Social Media: Samantha Playlist: Spotify #pia: samantha #pia: samual

Felix / Felicia Nowak, 21 - 🩷

Your Ex [m/f]:

Occupation: Rich Kid - Old flames flare up as your past strides right back into your life in this brand-new city. Sparks are undeniable, but so are the reasons things didn't work out. Can you give this a second shot, or is it just history playing its track again? 💬 "Your mother always loved me, you know it." ♡ Confident, Generous, Driven, Charismatic 🚩 Impulsive, Superficial, Entitled, Manipulative 🛹 Does skate Looks: here Social Media: Felix (xF!MC), Felix (xM!MC) #pia: felix #pia: felicia

Alex Czarnecki, 25 - 🧡

Your New Foe [m]:

Occupation: Lawyer - None other than a face that seems to have it out for you. Every encounter feels like a clash, sparks flying in every direction. But hold on, could there be more to this hostility than meets the eye? 💬 "I am looking forward to making your life a living hell." ♡ Sharp-Witted, Analytical, Passionate, Perseverant 🚩 Stubborn, Guarded, Confrontational 🛹 Does not skate Looks: tba Social Media: Alex Playlist: Spotify #pia: alex

Noah / Naomi Cho, 20 - ❤️

Your Best Friend [m/f]:

Occupation: Photographer - Your ride-or-die best friend's on the other side of the world. They're just a text away, keeping your spirits high as you dive into this new city's chaos. The catch? Obviously the distance, but: Is there more to this bond that's worth exploring, or should it stay in the "friend zone"? 💬 "Pah, plane tickets are so cheap these days." ♡ Optimistic, Spontaneous, Loyal, Empathetic, Playful 🚩 Conflict Avoidant, Flakey, Jealous 🛹 Does skate Looks: tba Social Media: Naomi(xGF) #pia: naomi #pia: noah

Xavier Hoffmann, 22 - 💚

Your New Friend [m]:

Occupation: Musician - So, you meet this new friend at an event, and suddenly life's got an extra splash of excitement. But hold on—there's something about this new buddy that's keeping you guessing. Can you really put all your cards on the table, or is there some trick up their sleeve? 💬 "See? Super easy and nobody will ever find out." ♡ Inspiring, Free-Spirited, Passionate, Charming 🚩 Attention-Seeking, Impulsive, Unreliable 🛹 Does skate Looks: tba Social Media: Xavier #pia: xavier

Bianca Wolf, 19 - 🩵

Your Childhood Friend [f]:

Occupation: Student - A chance encounter brings back memories of your childhood friend. It's like life's throwing surprises your way, and this friend's becoming more than just a blast from the past. Can you pick up where you left off, or are you diving into uncharted territory? 💬 "I have to admit, seeing you kind of...messes with my head." ♡ Supportive, Empowering, Trustworthy, Honest, Kind-Hearted 🚩 Mood Swings, Stagnation, Drama-Prone 🛹 Does skate Looks: tba Social Media: here #pia: bianca

Laurenz / Laura Svenson, 20 - 💛

Your Rival [m/f]:

Occupation: Pro Skater - Rivalry's a familiar tune - Drama is to be expected 'cause they don't give you an inch of space. Competition's getting a different flavor once you both aim for the same goal. Can you navigate these uncharted feelings? 💬 "Oh, you will so damn fuckin' much regret it!" ♡ Spontaneous, Humorous, Enthusiastic, Entertaining 🚩 Egoistic, Control-Freak, Insecure 🛹 Does skate Looks: tba Social Media: Laurenz Playlist: Spotify #pia: Laura #pia: Laurenz

Francesco / Francesca Moretti, 22 - 💜

Your Best Friend's BF / GF [m/f]

Occupation: Model - They always knew what they wanted, and they always got it. Truth is, you fell for them even before they got with your best friend. Then, you behaved - but your friend is not here now. As their gaze draws you in, loyalty falters in the face of desire. Can you resist, or even want to? 💬 "Not even they know about it." ♡ Artistic, Sensual, Inspirational, Ambitious 🚩 Dishonest, Neglectful, Envious 🛹 Does not skate Looks: here Social Media: Francesca Playlist: Spotify #pia: francesca #pia: francesco

Dima / Dalia Petrov, 34 - 🖤

Your Boss [m/f] *

Occupation: Club Owner - As you step into the dark world of nightlife your paths cross. Soon you'll navigate the complexities of the club scene with all its secrets. Can you decode the hidden motives and stories behind their actions? 💬 "I bet you have never seen anything like this before." ♡ Confident, Assertive, Initiative, Alluring 🚩 Possessive, Aggressive, Manipulative, Deceitful 🛹 Does not skate Looks: here Social Media: Dima Playlist: Spotify #pia: dima #pia: dalia

Dr. Michael / Michaela Sturm, 29 - 🤍

Your Doctor [m/f]

Occupation: Doctor - Unfortunately, your meeting is based on an accident. Will your face stand out amidst the sea of faceless patients? Can you unravel the layers of their identity and unveil the person beyond the white coat? 💬 "How did you even survive for so long?" ♡ Charitable, Open-Minded, Witty, Empathetic 🚩 Restless, Workaholic, Burnout 🛹 Did skate Looks: here Social Media: Michael #pia: michael #pia: michaela

„Sparks“, 24 - 🩶

Your Supplier [m/f] *

Occupation: Drug Dealer - You heard a name, often, by many people, some you trust and some you don‘t - but they all agreed they are the one you should talk to. Sometimes it seems they don‘t offer earthly goods only. Soul for sale? 💬 „It‘s actually kinda fun and I make tons of money. But if I had been given the choice…“ ♡ Outgoing, Spontaneous, Genuine 🚩 Non-Reliable, Trust Issues, Volatile 🛹 Does skate Looks: tba Social Media: Sparks (M) Playlist: Spotify #pia: sparks

Paul / Paula Gerwig, 38 - 🤎

A Stranger [m/f] *

Occupation: Executive Vice President - There‘s no way you can read their true intentions, but why would you want to? They manage to surprise you in the craziest - good - ways and even allow you to cause some chaos. 💬 „My chauffeur will pick you up at 9pm.“ ♡ Generous, Attentive, Driven, Reliable 🚩 Hard-To-Read, Provocative, Hot/Cold 🛹 Does not skate Looks: tba Social Media: Paula Playlist: Spotify #pia: paula #pia: paul

⫸ OTHER CHARACTERS (non-romanceable):

Kassandra [redacted], 45 - Your Step-Mom [f]

Occupation: CEO - She changed. Though she was never an easy person and always particularly strict towards you, she once had the kind heart your father fell for. But that was long ago. Now all that matters is that everything meets her expectations. At any cost. 💬 "You need to grow up before you are a shame to us." ♡ Responsible, Committed, Vigilant, Perceptive, Ambitious 🚩 Controlling, Obsessive, Dismissive, Authoritarian 🛹 Does not skate #pia: kassandra #pia: step mom

Manfred von Kulversteyen, 56 - Your Step-Mom's Partner [m]

Occupation: Lawyer - You have no idea how he ended up with your step-mom. Seriously. He seems to have it out for you and in some moments you are very lucky she is around. 💬 "If you were my blood, I would have beaten you into shape already." ♡ Driven, Efficient, Confident 🚩 Intolerant, Choleric, Arrogant, Unpredictable 🛹 Does not skate

Henric [redacted], 44 - Your Dad [m]

Occupation: Documentary filmmaker - Choosing happiness and authenticity over material pursuits, your father's separation from your stepmother revealed his unwavering commitment to a meaningful life. Unfortunately that also meant sacrifices. 💬 "I couldn't be any prouder of you. And I don't care what they say. I love you." ♡ Patient, Understanding, Affectionate, Supportive 🚩 Worries a lot, Inconsistent, Overcompromising 🛹 Did skate

Nader / Nazrin Davani, 23 - Your Roommate (#1) [m/f] *

Occupation: Art Student - They moved from London to HH a few months ago, when their parents opened a new hospital in Hamburg. Their parents try real hard to push them in the medical direction, but all they want is to shape a destiny distinct from their family's expectations. Be their muse? 💬 "I wouldn't mind settlin' in 'ere for the night, just to paint you." ♡ Trustworthy, Hilarious, Fun-Loving, Rebellious, Creative 🚩Over-Sensitive, Perfectionist, Self-Doubt 🛹 Does not skate

[redacted], 21 - Your Roommate (#2) [f] *

Occupation: [redacted] 💬 "I have to admit I did not expect to see you again under such circumstances, but I must admit it is a pleasant surprise nonetheless." ♡ Spontaneous, loyal, affectionate, protective, confident 🚩Perfectionist, self-reliant, argumentative 🛹 Does skate

„The Queenpin“, 58 - A Stranger [f] *

Occupation: ??? - Here's the scoop—an accidental run-in with a total stranger's changing the game. But there's this vibe you can't shake, a sense that there's more to this stranger than meets the eye. Is it fate playing games, or is there a hidden agenda in the mix? 💬 „Who clipped your wings little bird?“ ♡ Caring, Protective, Patient, Nurturing, Enigmatic 🚩 Controlling, Unpredictable 🛹 Does not skate

??, 18 - A Stranger [nb] *

Occupation: Barista - soon 💬 "If you were my type I would totally smash you. Right here, right now." ♡ soon 🚩 soon 🛹 Does skate

??, 35 - A Stranger [m/f] *

Occupation: Tattoo Artist - soon 💬 "Ha, THIS one will definitely surprise them!" ♡ soon 🚩 soon 🛹 Does not skate

??, 24 - A Stranger [m] *

Occupation: None - soon 💬 "I love my life. No restrictions, no nothing. I can do what I want." ♡ soon 🚩 soon 🛹 Does not skate

People working at Laces - Club* :

Sasha* Fernando* Pat* Pepe* Hana* Anders*

* the appearance of characters with an asterisk depends on your choices

⫸ WARNING: Paved in Ashes will be rated 18+ because of explicit language, explicit sexual themes, drug and alcohol (ab)use, violence, moral ambiguity, and more. Full list here: PiA Trigger Warning

#welcome to my if #paved in ashes #intro post #upcoming if #skateboarding if #interactive fiction #interact-if #if wip #interactive novel #dashingdon #if recs #interactive game #if game #choicescript #skatelife #wip intro

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loki-cees-all · 15 days ago

Text

Ch. 5 - Turn Against {Against All Odds - TVA!Loki x Female Reader Longfic}

Previous Chapter / AO3 Link / Against All Odds Masterlist / Next Chapter

Pairing : TVA!Loki x Female Reader

Summary : Loki attempts to sneak out of your flat before you awaken.

W/c : 8.8k words

Content / Warnings : Fluff, angst, and a touch of smut.

Author's Note : Apologies this chapter took me so long to finish! After 6 months of working on it, it blew up to a length of 14k words and I ended up having to divide it into two chapters just to make the editing process more manageable. So congrats, this fic is now a grand total of 20 chapters! Yay!

Also, just fyi - I basically wrote the whole thing (so, Chapters 5 and 6 together) while watching Infinity War and Endgame on repeat, if that gives you any insight as to my mental state, or the amount of angst these chapters have. So, uh…good luck!! <3

18+ Only - Minors DNI

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

Date : June 27th, 1977 [Sacred Timeline]

A pair of ethereal beings slumbered peacefully in your bed.

Twisted among the silken sheets, your angelic form was snuggled against the chest of Loki’s duplicate - a leg hooked around one of his, an arm draped across his torso. Your fingers twitched in your sleep, your lungs slowly inhaled and exhaled in sync with that of his seidr. The only thing you had on was a quiet, serene expression - one that meant you were blissfully unaware of the trickery that had already befallen you, or of the cruel disappearing act that was yet to come.

The true Loki approached your bed with incredible precision, moving cautiously so as to not disturb the exquisite goddess or her beauty sleep. His gaze roamed lazily over your every curve, your every spasm and pulse, every inch of skin peeking out from beneath the sheets. The polish on your toes was cherry-red, the freckles on your back replicated the stars of the night sky, and the air from your lungs was sweet, intoxicating, mellifluous.

The entire scene was breathtaking, but that wasn’t what was suffocating him.

As he paused by your side, you stirred a little in your sleep - muscles tensing, breath hitching. Your face twitched lightly, brushing your cheek against the duplicate’s skin, and he responded in kind by holding you closer, squeezing you tighter, soothing and comforting you under the true Loki’s direction. And it worked; you relaxed in that false embrace, reassured by the solace of his presence enough to resume the slow, deep breathes in, and then back out.

This time, it was Loki’s turn for his breath to hitch. How was this possible? Why did you find serenity with him? What did you see in him that he could never see himself?

His eyes flicked to the mimic in bed with you. It matched his appearance in every single way, from the dark curls spread across the pillow to the tips of his fingers now tracing light circles along your arm. Its scent was the same, its voice would have been identical if you had needed to hear it. He could have switched places with it in less than a second, just to have you in his own arms once more, and you never would have known the difference.

Because the duplicate was him: a literal, physical manifestation of his deceit, cradling you tenderly while you slept. While the real one searched your apartment for the evidence of an addiction you clearly hadn’t developed yet. While he neglected his responsibilities back at the TVA, because he was too preoccupied with a future problem that he might cause to fully focus on the massive problem he’d definitely helped to cause at the end of time.

As usual, his attentions were divided. Lately it seemed as though any attempt to solve a problem would just create two more in its place. And forever the masochist, Loki was drifting hopelessly between the past, present, and future; stuck between a rock and a hard place, while being unable to fully focus on either.

He was trapped inside a personal Hel of his very own making.

It wasn’t fair that he hadn’t found you until after he’d broken the timelines. Without judgment or sound reason, you gazed upon him like the sun looked down at the clouds, parting the storms of his heart and warming the oceans of his mind, stilling the thoughts that swirled in nervous energy, and regret, and prayers that he could somehow be different for the both of you. That he didn’t have to choose between you or the TVA.

That he could somehow be with you, without being Loki.

He couldn’t help but wonder: if you’d been born on Asgard, would you still feel the same way about him? If you had grown up together, if you knew all of his secrets and heartbreaks and betrayals, would you have still slept this peacefully in his arms? Would you still look at him like he was somehow everything you’d ever wanted?

Perhaps in another timeline you did, and if he could manage to save the TVA after all, then maybe afterwards he should go searching for it.

Outside your flat, the sun was just starting to crest over the horizon. Its rays drifted in through the bay windows of your bedroom to bring on a beautiful, new day. But Loki needed to leave before you woke up. Actually saying goodbye wasn’t an option - because he couldn’t lie, but he couldn’t tell the truth either, and he certainly couldn’t predict the future.

In fact, no one knew what was going to happen now that the timelines were free, but he couldn’t shake the ominous feeling that somehow this would only end with his self-sacrifice; dying was the only sure way Loki knew how to redeem himself, and even if you never knew about it, he would have happily done it for you.

But even in the off chance that their efforts with the Loom were successful and he didn’t have to sacrifice himself - the next problem on the TVA’s To Do List was to deal with the variants of He Who Remains and their potential for waging multiversal war. And after that, there would inevitably be a thousand other problems for him to deal with, each one with more dire consequences than the last, and Loki would never be able to stop.

He’d never be able to take a moment to breathe, to exist, to just love you.

Loki wasn’t sure if he was in love with you now, but the appeal of letting himself feel something good was too much to ignore; in truth, he was only safe to feel it because he knew it was going to obliterate him later on, and it was why he couldn’t deny himself one last touch.

Kneeling beside the bed, the arm of his duplicate lifted slowly from your body. And as if it had been rehearsed, the true Loki brought his fingertips to brush through your hair, gently massaging your scalp. As if he were doing it mindlessly in his sleep, instead of doing it fully conscious while his heart shattered into a million pieces.

And he didn’t know if he was even capable of loving you. Loki had spent centuries hurting and longing for what he couldn’t have, bitter and resentful to what he had too much of, and disillusioned over everything else in between. At no point in his long life had his experiences ever been what anyone might call normal, especially not to a mere and simple human, and he’d long since forgotten what it was like to just be, let alone to have something he actually wanted to hold on to.

When Loki was younger, he believed love to be a calculated decision that required delicate measurement of the pros and cons. Which option would benefit Asgard the most as the spouse of its disinclined and least favorite prince? Who would be the most trustworthy to safeguard an outcast’s heart?

Back then, the obvious choice would have been whomever could simply tolerate him while maintaining an innocuous distance. It never would have been real, just like this couldn’t ever be.

As his fingers began another pass through your hair, he wondered what sort of tragedy had happened in your younger years to make you cling so tightly to such a broken thing like him. Had you loved, and then lost? Had you failed someone in the way he was about to fail you? Had you repeatedly cracked open your soul, only to have no one even notice?

Whatever it was, whatever atrocity had made you look at him like that, Loki both cherished and cursed it. He wanted to fix it, he wanted to make it worse. He wanted to see it, he wanted to taste it. To nurture it, to smother it, to let it rise and then push it back down. He wanted to be the cause of it, and then to be its cure.

His eyes filled with tears - big, wet, silent, pathetic ones. The tears of a child no longer allowed to keep the only thing that had ever brought him any kind of solace. His chest tightened, and he could feel the tears bleeding down his cheeks, painting sharp lines of misery and staining his skin red for anyone who dared to look closely enough.

This was so absurd, his reactions and feelings were so unbelievably foolish, because you were just a human. You didn’t really know him, and he didn’t really know you. Your perspective, by design, was so much more limited than his. What could you possibly ever have in common with him? Or him with you?

Whatever was waiting in your future - perhaps he was just overthinking it. Maybe the addiction had nothing to do with him at all. Maybe he was just projecting, maybe your feelings for him were nothing but casual ones, maybe you’d be able to completely forget about him as soon as he walked out the door. You’d be better off without him anyway.

That thought brought him some comfort, while quietly slitting his throat.

He swallowed hard, and tried to get a grip on himself. What was it that he was supposed to say on Svartalfheim, about Thor falling in love with the mortal Jane Foster?

It’s nothing. It’s a heartbeat. You’ll never be ready.

Loki’s biggest problem had always been never knowing when to walk away - and if he didn’t do it now, then it might someday be completely out of his control. Your path might lead you down a branched timeline, one that another rogue TVA agent could destroy. The Loom’s explosion could take out everyone and everything. Loki himself could accidentally get you killed, or worse - you could finally see him for what he really was, and decide to walk away from him instead.

The only woman whose love you’ve prized will be snatched from you.

Letting out a restrained breath, he dragged his hand across his face to wipe away the tears, while the other’s gentle touch remained in your hair. This was going to be tricky; once he left your bedroom, Loki was going to have to carefully withdraw the duplicate from your bed - slowly, cruelly, and without waking you up. He brushed his thumb along your cheekbone one last time, and just as he was debating on whether to kiss you goodbye, you startled yourself awake with a sharp gasp.

Loki panicked, and quickly switched places with the duplicate. His kneeling form beside the bed disappeared before you could fully open your eyes. His muscles tightened, and with a gasp of his own, and he pretended to just be waking up alongside you.

“Are you alright, darling?” he murmured breathlessly, nudging your temple with his nose and praying that you couldn’t feel his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

“Huh? Oh…” Your eyelids fluttered quickly, attempting to blink away the sleep from your eyes. When you finally recognized him next to you, only then did your breathing slow. “No, I’m fine…”

He struggled to not let out a massive sigh of relief at that. Your grogginess had mercifully prevented notice of the two Lokis that had momentarily been in your presence, and he shuddered to think of what your reaction may have been had you seen it.

“Bad dream?” he asked softly, his fingers resuming their bittersweet caresses against your scalp.

Again, you had found solace within his touch. Your muscles relaxed as you sank back into his embrace, and his followed suit, finding just as much consolation in giving it as you did in receiving it. He couldn’t believe how little effort it took to bring you comfort, and in contrast, he could believe how little it took for him to offer it.

“Do you ever dream you’re falling so hard that your body thinks it’s actually falling…?”

Of course, his consultation was different. Unable to slip out quietly like he’d planned, he was now staring at the daunting task of actually saying goodbye - and possibly lying to your beautiful face in the process. Once again, hesitation had cost him dearly, and he wondered if he was ever going to be able to make a timely decision ever again.

“Of course. All the time, really…”

But truthfully, a part of him was extremely grateful for the chance to be in bed with you again. He adored the sensation of your warm skin against his, just as alluring and soft as it had been the night before. Stirring up all the same desires, making him ache for an encore performance. As his fingers drifted through your hair, the scent of gardenias stimulated the memories of his first kiss between the rows of Midgardian flora his mother had grown in her garden.

During the few times he’d had lovers in the past, mornings were always his favorite; the lazy kisses, bodies moving on autopilot but not without purpose or reason. It meant that the night before wasn’t a mistake. It was intentional, it was deliberate, it was worth repeating. He was actually wanted, and the idea of bringing on the new, terrible day with a subdued brisance of ecstasy was -

Loki scolded himself for letting his mind wander from this devastating predicament. His fingers drifted through your hair once more, brushing and massaging in the hope of keeping you from noticing the confliction on his face. Should he just promise to come back, even though he didn’t know if it was possible? Should he tell you it was goodbye forever instead, and then never return even on the off chance that he could?

You let out a peaceful hum as his fingers trailed down to your neck, pressing gently into the muscles and tendons to relieve any knots they found. Every part of you practically melted underneath his touch, and you snuggled into him deeper, unable to get enough. Your leg wrapped around his again, your lips brushed against the bare skin of his chest, and your gentle fingertips trailed along the lines of his abdomen.

“I was afraid you’d be gone by the time I woke up…”

His lips curved into a sad smile. Every murmured word was like another chain of iron locked around his ankles. Loki was used to ruining everything, and he knew he still might, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger just yet. Being of genuine use was a pleasure he was rarely afforded any more, even though it was all he really wanted.

When he had purpose, he had a place to belong.

“I’m still here, darling…” Loki had to stop himself from continuing, from promising to never leave, from cursing the TVA and all that was waiting for him back there. He was never one to subscribe to the ideology of “what will be, will be” before, but that option was looking better and better with each passing moment.

You shifted on the bed, working your lips up his chest, kissing over his heart and up to his collarbone. “And I am so very grateful that you are…” you hummed against his neck.

Unable to resist the effects of desire as it flooded his veins, Loki let out a deep groan. He tilted his head back to allow you better access to his flesh, your lips soft and warm as you tasted his skin. Why couldn’t he just stay here forever? Where pleasure was given and received so freely, and without expectation?

Once you were properly kissing his neck, his hands acted of their own accord, latching on to your ass and pulling you up to straddle him completely. You must have enjoyed that, because you gasped softly and eagerly pressed your hips to his, rolling and dragging yourself against his quickly hardening cock.

Your tongue swiped at his skin while you kissed and sucked on his neck, and your fingers tangled in his hair. The exhales from his nose were heavy, his moans were urgent, shameless. His muscles tightened and stretched underneath you, and he started to forget he’d ever heard of the Time Variance Authority before. Loki gripped your ass harder, encouraging your every movement.

“Are you sure you’ve got no other place to be?” you murmured breathlessly, grinding yourself just a little harder against him, clearly wanting this just as much as he did.

His cock twitched hungrily, his fingers dug their need into your skin. Loki would gladly trade the next millennia or two in happy exchange to keep such a beautifully eager woman writhing against him. He groaned out a sound reminiscent of the word “no” before cupping your jaw and angling your mouth to his.

Deeply passionate kisses consumed you both, and your arms locked around his neck. You passed heated moans back and forth, and Loki could feel how much you wanted this as you coated his cock in arousal. He began adjusting your hips to allow him entry when you murmured one last question against his lips.

“So you’re not married? No wife or kids to get back home to?”

Loki froze, and then burst into laughter. His entire body shook as his head tilted back with eyes closed, eyebrows raised, completely flabbergasted by the idea. Married? With children?! Who could be foolish enough to do such a thing with him?

When he managed to compose himself enough to open his eyes, the forlorn expression on your face sobered him completely. Concern had pulled your eyebrows to the heavens, and your lips had parted with childlike embarrassment to both your question, and his unexpected reaction to it. He forced himself to stop laughing, to position his brow into sincerity as he caressed your cheeks with both hands.

“Darling, darling, darling…what could have possibly possessed you to ask such a thing?” he murmured cautiously, dragging his thumbs along your cheekbones. His eyes desperately searched yours, trying to see what it was that troubled you.

“Well, it’s just that…You know, I just don’t - ” you sighed, then paused to chew on the inside of your cheek.

Loki’s heart ached as you stammered along while carefully avoiding his gaze. It would have been adorable, if it hadn’t been so heartbreaking.

Of course, Loki had a sinking feeling about what you were really after, but he didn’t know how to explain himself. The only other experience he could possibly derive guidance from had happened to his brother, but even that wasn’t the same; Jane Foster had always understood Thor to be a mythological being of the cosmos from the very beginning.

As usual, his brother hadn’t needed to lie about who he was or where he was from; Thor had never once needed to endure the humiliation of trying to explain himself. And as usual, Loki found himself envious of the blind confidence that flashed like lightning through every fiber of Thor’s being. It wasn’t fair that he’d never had to prepare for situations like this.

Situations like this, where Loki definitely should have known better.

Because it wasn’t like their father had ever provided instructions on how to break the news of their otherworldly existences to their mortal lovers; in fact, Odin had explicitly forbidden the idea altogether. And as he watched the gears whirling in your mind, as they tried to put the right words in the correct order, or maybe they were trying to spool up enough energy to just blurt it out - Loki wished that he had listened to his father.

He wished that none of this had ever happened. He wished that he’d never been kidnapped by the TVA, he wished that he’d never met Brad Wolfe. He wished that he’d never decided to get back at him by seducing his date to the movie premiere. He wished the duplicate Tony Stark had never dropped the Tesseract, and he wished that he’d never picked it up at all.

Loki wished he could wake up tomorrow in the dungeons of Asgard. He wished he could experience, first-hand, the deaths of his mother, and then his father. He wished he could personally hammer that final nail into the coffin of his brother’s trust. He wished it could be his neck that Thanos had snapped.

Because even if everything worked out perfectly - even if you somehow accepted his truth, something no one else had ever managed to do, even if he managed to save the TVA and all the timelines, even if he was able to stop HWR and prevent multiversal war - in 50 years time, you would still be gone.

If he was lucky, he’d be able to watch your hair fade to gray. He would be able to count the smile lines as they grew along your cheeks, and he’d be there for every single frown, every single moment of joy. Every spot of luck, every inconvenience, every tragedy, every victory. But then he’d also have to watch it all turn to ash, and he’d have to continue on alone after you were gone.

Seeing the ones he loved come and go, watching them pass him by while he was powerless to stop it, was a burden he was simply unwilling to bear.

Loki’s attention was drawn to your lips as they started moving. The sound of your voice was muffled in his ears, and your eyes darted back and forth between staring off into the distance and making brief, heartbreaking contact with his. He could tell you were stammering and struggling to make sense of your thoughts, but he was too busy picturing your casket to even really listen.

“I just - I just don’t know anything about you, Loki!”

The exclamation was made out in defiance of yourself. It was only then that your gaze became totally affixed to his - watching, waiting, hoping for some kind of answer from the stranger in your bed.

Loki matched your anticipatedly heartsick expression with one of his own. His brows slanted upwards while his eyes grew immense with regret and remorse; for someone whose many monikers included the God of Lies, he was truthfully finding himself completely out of his depth with you. His throat tightened, sealing off his lungs from the air in your bedroom, but he somehow managed a meager smile.

“I’m afraid there’s not much to know about me, darling,” Loki replied, hoping to assuage some imaginary guilt you may have been harboring. He prayed this was all you really needed to hear, anyway. “But I can assure you, wholeheartedly, that I do not have a spouse, nor any children, that I’m hiding from you…”

You stared at him closely while he spoke, as if you were looking for any twitch or vellication that might have betrayed his answer. Once none could be found, your eyes narrowed in careful dissection of what appeared to be the truth. Loki’s heart fluttered with twinges of nervous energy and pure admiration for the only mortal he’d ever felt drawn to; he just hoped you were aware of how intelligent you were, and how much it both terrified, and impressed, him.

After another moment or two, your demeanor shifted once more, altering your calculating gaze into something much more friendly and open-minded. You smiled sweetly while bending your elbow against a pillow and propping your head against your palm. The fingertips of your other hand moved to trace light, swirling patterns against his bare chest, and Loki was sure that this time you could feel his breath hitch inside his lungs.

“Can you tell me what you do for a living then?” you murmured softly, clearly attempting a different tactic to pull his precious details out into the open.

But Loki could still see right through your methods. He was, unfortunately, quite used to being interrogated for both the things he had and had not actually done; when you’re known to the Nine Realms as the God of Mischief, everyone practically falls over themselves trying to be the one to finally catch you in the act of malfeasance, just to prove to everyone else how clever and ingenuitive they were.

And as much as it hurt to constantly be on the receiving end of such distrust and misfortune, it had also fortified and strengthened Loki’s adaptability and perseverance. But the one thing he hadn’t ever counted on was that someday he’d find himself in the bed of the most beautiful and extraordinary lover he’d ever known, who was asking him for the kind of truth he simply had no way to provide.

“It’s…complicated,” Loki answered with a patient sigh. He brought his fingertips to caress the back of your hand as it traced over his skin. The contact was so very soothing to him, and he hoped it would, at the very least, be a distraction for you.

But it didn’t work. Instead, your gaze burned hotter into his. “If there’s not much to know about you, then how complicated could it really be?”

Loki chuckled as he dragged his knuckles up the length of your forearm. “Oh, you’d be surprised…”

“Well, thankfully I love those. So I’m all ears.” You shifted closer on the bed, hooking one of your bare legs around his, flexing your foot to brush slowly along the inside of his calf. The smile on your lips was patiently, and infuriatingly, insistent.

Loki’s breath hitched yet again. His blood chilled underneath the weight of someone paying such close and affectionate attention to him; he simply didn’t know what to do with it. He never had.

Almost with a mind of their own, his eyes shifted down to his fingertips as they resumed tracing up the length of your arm. Despite everything, Loki couldn’t bring himself to stop touching you, even though he knew it was just further trapping him within a time loop of lingering and longing.

And you didn’t recoil when he touched you; that would never, ever cease to surprise, or alarm, him. Thus, a game of tug of war ensued deep within his heart - a hand of cold, gnarled fingers pulling it towards outright vitriol, and a kind, loving hand attempting to guide it towards acceptance. But both destinations were terrifying in their own ways, and neither hand was able to make any significant progress.

Loki cleared his throat, his eyes avoiding direct contact with yours while you waited for his reply. His thoughts raced by at a trillion miles an hour. They collided and smashed together behind his signature furrowed brow and measured persona, fracturing and blending into an unrecognizable mess - one that was completely uncharacteristic, uncomfortable and unforgivable to the God of Mischief. Selecting a single and coherent idea was going to be next to impossible, and he absolutely loathed feeling this out of control over his own mind.

“Why do you need to know so badly?”

It was the only thing he could manage to say, and he immediately regretted it. The way your face fell rivaled the destruction of many great civilizations the Nine Realms had known and lost over the past millennia. Your eyes widened like the Bifrost’s beam as it opened upon the cold, barren wasteland of Jotunheim.

Your breath hitched like the innocent citizens of New York when the Chitauri Army descended from the Heavens. Your formerly warm skin turned colder than Thor’s expression when the last flames of hope that Loki might still turn things around died on his features.

But Loki knew that to be an impossible endeavor, if your anguish was to be any sort of indication. He’d never be able to turn things around, not really. He was very well accustomed to judgment, and of condemnation - to conviction without trial, and to criticism without consideration. They were the necessary bedfellows that came with his title.

And they were comfortable, familiar. They allowed him to stand defiant in the face of total and complete reckoning, and they also saved him from the problem of trying, and inevitably failing, to be better than anyone could ever hope for him to be.

But the look on your face right now was something else entirely. Your eyebrows arched upwards, recreating the highest precipice of the Asgardian palace - a home that wasn’t ever really his, one that was built with shimmering gold and the most rubious of blood. Along with the emerald of your sheets, those were the only colors he really knew how to paint with.

It was honestly shocking how much your expression truly rattled him; he felt like a child again, cowering behind his mother’s skirts because he hadn’t yet figured out how to talk his way out of whatever trouble he’d found himself in. Except this time, there was no Frigga to do the talking for him. There were no skirts, or titles, or utter defiance for him to hide behind - it was just you, and him, laid bare and mute underneath the silk sheets of your bed.

Loki was sure that he’d ruined everything…again. What he didn’t know, however, was why your reaction was one of hurt. He had seen the spark dim in your eyes and he could feel you recoiling even as your mouth opened and closed, in slow-motion and without sound, as you attempted to answer his slightly cruel, albeit fair, question.

Why did you need to know so badly? Why was he starting to fear that this may be more than a passing dalliance to you? Why did that warm his heart with feelings of worthiness, while simultaneously cracking it under the weight of all that responsibility?

So maybe it would be better to let that question fester into an open wound of resentment, instead of trying to reassure, or deflect, or explain. Despite being all too aware of his own shortcomings, Loki had no idea how to broach the subject himself; that was something that was always done for him. He’d never had to suffer the drought of no one to remind him of his repeated failings before, and thus, never really learned how to bring them up on his own. Where would he even start explaining?

Not to mention, this might make leaving easier. He could just stand up and get dressed, taking the time to actually button and buckle and fasten the Midgardian ensemble he’d conjured just for you, while he repeated the question and made you feel like a fool for wanting to know him better. Didn’t you know he was just using you? That this wasn’t ever going to be serious and that it was just for the game, for the chase, for the sex?

Loki knew how to be cruel. It was the only thing he was better at than being a massive, colossal force of chaos and destruction - and he’d learned it from the very best. Callosity was like breathing to him; he didn’t feel alive unless he was driving a dagger into someone else’s heart. And then afterwards mocking them so they couldn’t see that he was bleeding even more than they were.

That was easy. It was familiar, it was safe.

It was home. It was his home.

Finally accepting the inevitable, Loki let out a heavy sigh. He couldn’t carry on with this imposture any longer, it was too risky. You could find out what he really was, or you could simply not believe his explanation at all.

Loki raked a nervous hand through his dark and tangled curls as he straightened his back away from your headboard. He swallowed hard, steeling his expression into something far more neutral than how he felt, and then he forced himself to finally use his favorite dagger of betrayal once more.

“Listen, darling…I - ”

A sharp, piercing ring suddenly echoed across the flat, and behind it, followed a penetrative silence. Its air was tense, suffocating the rest of his sentence and making it perish on his tongue. The sound of metal striking metal in that brief and frenzied rhythm was unexpected, but the Asgardian still was able to recognize the source of the noise as an innocent and harmless doorbell. He remained unreactive, his curious gaze fixed solely on you.

Your response, however, was different; you’d practically jumped out of your skin, clearly not expecting your own doorbell to ring at such an imperative moment. Your heart beat a rapid cadence inside your chest, and there was just a tiny bit of air lodged in your throat.

But other than a vigorous heartbeat and your lungs heaving for more oxygen, you didn’t move. You said nothing, you did nothing - you just stared at him like it was his fault the doorbell had rung.

Sensing your need for a push, Loki reached forward, gently brushing his fingers along the sensitive skin of your inner wrist. “Darling, were you expecting additional visitors?”

Your pupils dilated at the sound of his voice, and your eyelids blinked once, twice, three times as you processed his latest question. Your brow raised and then furrowed as you glanced at the clock on the nightstand, your eyes desperately trying to decipher the lines and numbers and what they meant when illuminated together.

Loki wasn’t sure if you were still exhausted from the very late night you’d spent with him, or if his first question had rattled you that much. But the look on your face was honestly so adorable that he almost forgot that he’d been only seconds away from saying goodbye forever.

“Darling?” he murmured again just before the doorbell rang again, this time in a short series of three bursts to indicate the visitor’s urgency.

And this time, it suddenly clicked in your mind that it was your responsibility to actually answer the door. You quickly mumbled excuses as you popped upright, swinging your legs over the edge of your bed and practically gliding across the bedroom to throw something on.

Once again, desire roared to life in his veins, and he was unable to stop himself from admiring your naked form as you moved. As your muscles and tendons and ligaments all stretched and contracted with such supernal purpose, as your delicate hands reached for the silken, phthalo green fabric draped across the bench at the foot of your bed. Practiced fingers worked quickly to push both arms through the robe’s sleeves and situate the collar around your neck as you continued heading for the door.

Each movement was stunning and comforting, and Loki watched as though he were in the presence of a divinity so healing it could easily cure him of everything that had ever aggrieved, bruised or lacerated him. Watching you quite literally took his breath away; never before had the God of Mischief been so entranced, so mesmerized, so captivated by the simple act of getting dressed.

He didn’t even mind when you pulled the panels closed around your waist, obfuscating the curves and swells of your thighs and hips and torso. Because he’d already memorized your form; it was etched so profoundly into his mind that he wasn’t sure how deep it actually went.

And without even trying to, you answered every question he’d ever had. It made him want to ask even more questions, like why was the sky blue? How many stars could you count before you finally lost track? Would you object to ignoring the doorbell and having breakfast in bed with him instead?

Loki barely registered another triplicate of harsh doorbell rings, but he was aware of you disappearing through the door frame with an exasperated shout to the mystery caller.

“Yes, yes! I’m coming, I’m coming…”

Your bedroom was noticeably colder after you left; your bed, freezing. Loki swallowed hard, his lonely gaze falling upon the heap of his wrinkled suit, pulled off in a hurry the evening before and discarded carelessly on the floor. Somewhere in the pockets of his trousers lay the TemPad, ready to transport him back to the TVA and all its problems - both the ones he’d already caused, and the future problems still waiting to be revealed.

Loki pulled the sheets away and swung his legs over the edge of your bed. His head hung low, shoulders dropped and tendrils of the darkest night hanging in his eyes, blending into his perception of what you’d left behind. Down the hallway, he could hear you speaking to the visitor through the flat’s intercommunication system, blissfully unaware of the plight distressing the God you’d just spent the night with.

How did his life turn into this? All he’d wanted was a chance to breathe, to let his muscles finally relax. To possibly let his body finally heal after all the horrors he’d endured so far. But instead, he found himself locked in the sham of a fascist organization, and the only way to escape it was to dismantle it from the inside. That, in turn, somehow and inexplicably, had led him to all of this. It had brought him right here to you.

This room, and him inside of it, was now a barren, withering moon; a lifeless satellite, drifting aimlessly in the dark without its shining star to tether itself to. His sun was so far away now, unlocking the front door to her universe and happily greeting her unexpected visitor. He could feel the warmth of your light by the smile in your voice, in the way you laughed in excitement from whatever the visitor had to say. The sound was so alluring, beckoning him closer like the call of the most tempting siren.

Weary muscles groaned as Loki pushed himself up to standing. He desperately didn’t want to go, but time was running out; any moment now you’d return to the bedroom, and he’d have to say goodbye face-to-face. That was a scene he knew he did not have the strength to withstand, not after everything else he’d already lost. He’d much rather just run away again.

His feet shuffled forward, and Loki reluctantly retrieved his trousers from the floor. They were heavier than they should have been, what with the tremendous weight of the multiverse conveniently stored inside the compact and portable device hidden in his pocket. It was too much responsibility; how much easier this would all be if he could just forsake it and stay here instead.

Stalling, Loki chose to ignore the option of spellwork to get dressed. He thought about intentionally smashing the TemPad to destroy it entirely, and take away the option of leaving altogether - but instead he slipped one foot through the trouser leg.

Out in the kitchen, you were saying farewell to your visitor. Loki was dying to know who it was, and why they dropped by. He wondered if he could ever manage to blend into your life; could he charm your friends? Your parents? Could he actually handle having a job, and paying taxes, and pretending to go to the doctor once a year for a check-up?

It couldn’t be worse than spending his youth trying to prove himself a worthy son to a father who would never see him as such. But could he stand manually getting dressed every morning? Could he really go that long without his seidr?

Loki slipped the other foot through its trouser leg. He thought about X-5, and how eager he was to return to this timeline, to this life. Was it a life with you he wanted, or did he just want to be loved after spending so much time in a place that had never once valued the individual experience?

The front door to your flat was closed, and then locked. His trousers now buttoned and zipped, Loki picked up his white shirt and pushed his arms through the sleeves. He thought about Mobius and his incredible self-restraint, how he was somehow easily managing to ignore the potentials of his own timeline.

What if it’s something good? Do you think I wanna have that rattling around in here?

It was as admirable as much as it was infuriating. If Mobius ever knew what he was considering, if Mobius ever discovered that Loki wasn’t giving his complete and undivided attention to the more pressing issue of the Temporal Loom, then he would be so impressively furious. He’d be so disappointed, he’d call Loki expedient and selfish and narcissistic.

But didn’t Loki deserve something good for a change? He’d once had just about anything one could hope for, even with a disdainful shadow hanging over his shoulder. How much more would he have to lose before his selfishness was to be labeled justified, understandable, warranted?

A long life of clinging to discarded scraps had made him selfish. But it wasn’t sickness, it was necessity.

Of course he’d rather stay with you. Here, he was valued and appreciated. He was allowed to feel good, and dare he say it - wanted, even. Something he’d never once experienced in over a thousand years of tortured existence. Who wouldn’t be clinging to a liferaft while drowning in a vast ocean of nothingness?

In the kitchen, the faucet was running, and the sound of cabinets opening and then closing echoed down the hallway. You were starting your day with or without him, it seemed. But that was to be expected, thanks to his earlier, thoughtless question, and it was a feeling he should have become used to by now. As Loki caught his reflection in the mirror above your bureau, he knew that wasn’t the case.

Only a few weeks had passed since he’d escaped from the clutches of Thanos and the Black Order, and this was the first time he’d gazed upon himself since the S.H.I.E.L.D. research facility. He was slimmer than he remembered. But instead of that gauntness sharpening his features as one would expect, Loki saw himself fading away within the hunger of yearning. His Godly features were dulling before his very own eyes, seeming to drift away into abstraction while he got dressed in a mortal suit and tie.

Yet again, Loki was pretending to be something he wasn’t. That was all he’d ever done, instead of determining what it was that he wanted or forging his own path forward. He’d either do his best at what was expected of him, or he’d intentionally do the complete opposite of it, just to punish them for never asking what he wanted for himself.

The irony was he’d never be able to answer that question. He simply didn’t know what he wanted. Even now, the TVA and all its people were both on the verge of total annihilation, and here he was wishing he could just crawl back into bed with a human. No matter which option he chose, the guilt of not picking the other might very well eat him away from the inside.

But what if he didn’t have to choose between those two paths at all?

For the first time in his life, Loki could truly create his own destiny. There was no one pulling the strings anymore, no pre-fabricated tragedy for him to obediently succumb to. He could button up his shirt as fast or as slowly as he wanted, he could snake his feet into his socks and shoes, or forgo them entirely. He could join you in the kitchen, slip his arms around your waist, and he could promise to return soon.

He could mean that promise, and it was possible that he could fulfill it too.

Moving hastily, Loki finished getting dressed. He tucked the dress shirt into his trousers and he retrieved his tie from the floor, slipping its middle into his pocket and leaving the ends to dangle down the length of his thigh. He picked up his jacket from the floor, folded it neatly over his arm, and then he began his approach into the hallway with his chin held higher than it’d been in a very long time.

He could do this, he could make this work. He could have his Key Lime pie, and he could eat it too.

Successfully ignoring the horned candelabrum on the narrow bookshelf, he instead admired your displayed photographs as he moved down the hallway. Your smile was so joyous and bright in all of them, but especially in the ones where you made goofy faces with your friends. When you dressed up for holidays with your family. While standing in front of that treasured crepe myrtle in the backyard of your childhood home, the one that clearly meant so very much to you.

There was nothing in your past that indicated a miserable future, only the deep-seated roots of pleasant memories. Loki hoped that would be enough to keep you safe until he fixed the Loom, but he felt optimistic about his chances as he approached the kitchen; he was going to keep you from falling into the clutches of addiction, and he was going to save the Temporal Loom at the same time. There was no one around to decide that he wasn’t allowed to any longer.

If there was only one true thing in the entirety of the multiverse, it was that he despised being told that he couldn’t do something.

And afterwards, he would go to the Æsir to request a spell. If necessary, he’d return to Asgard to search their libraries, and he’d go to New York and interrogate the so-called Sorcerer Supreme. He’d tear apart the entirety of the Nine Realms if he had to - all in search of a way to allow you to live as long as he would, just so he’d never have to figure out how to say goodbye.

After rounding the hallway’s corner, he found you were standing in front of the kitchen stove, carefully measuring out spoonfuls of dark brown granules and methodically pouring them into a tall, silver pot. Your eyes were bleary, your movements sluggish but not without purpose. But in that early morning light, while wearing nothing but a silk robe, Loki found you entirely and completely magnificent.

“Would you like some coffee before you go?”

Your question was soft and polite. There was an air of distance to it that Loki simply couldn’t blame you for, but it also wasn't anything he couldn’t fix. He flashed his best, most impeccable smile as he laid his suit jacket over a barstool and seated himself on the other.

“Yes, that would be lovely, my dear, thank you.”

On the other side of the counter, you tried to hide the shy smile that crept across your lips, but it was impossible for him to miss. He grinned in return, thinking how lucky he might be to someday get to see that smile every morning.

Shifting his attention, Loki watched closely as you quietly assembled the rest of the contraption before placing it on the range. He may have been slightly out of touch when it came to Midgardian habits, but he did understand coffee to be of great and immeasurable importance to humans. He’d even grown fond of it himself, after several expeditions in his youth to visit each of the Nine Realms.

And he could tell this intricate procedure of yours was dutifully performed every single morning, regardless of how late you’d been up the night before. That it granted you comfort, and just the smallest bit of control amidst the rampant chaos of the world. So he watched carefully, intending to memorize the steps so that someday he could be able to perform this task for you instead.

“Who was at the door earlier?” he asked softly, eager to avoid a return to the previous, more unpleasant conversation you’d almost had before. The one that no longer mattered. “Was it another gentleman caller hoping to have coffee with you?”

You laughed and shook your head while removing a match from the cardboard box. “No. It was just the doorman, if you must know…”

“Doormen still drink coffee, do they not?” Loki teased, his eyes sparkling and his shoulders shrugging innocently.

You struck the match along the textured side of the matchbox. The tip ignited flawlessly, momentarily erupting into a wild, bulbous flame before settling into a controlled burn.

“I mean, if I was your doorman, I’d certainly be up here to have coffee with you every morning…”

“Oh, would you now?” you murmured with a smile, shifting over to the stovetop and carefully adjusting the burner’s dial. You brought the lit match just close enough to ignite the burner, and then blew it out. “Something tells me you wouldn’t be a very good doorman if you were only focused on opening and closing my door…”

This time it was Loki’s turn to laugh. He shifted on the barstool, his long legs splayed wild and leaning closer to you with his elbows on the counter. “Yes, I suppose I’d probably be dismissed pretty quickly, wouldn’t I?”

“Mmhmm. And then you’d have to go to doorman remedial classes to restore your honor,” you grinned playfully while turning on the faucet to run cool water over the extinguished match, just to be certain that it was out completely. “That would be so humiliating, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, and we can’t have that, can we?” Loki replied, tilting his head curiously. He found your behaviors to be quite intriguing; every action had a specific purpose, a unique rhythm to them. Every item had a designated place, a proper condition that it needed to exist as. You were clearly a meticulously neat person, and he thought it was terribly endearing.

After tossing the thoroughly drenched match into the trash bin, you then pulled a folded cloth out of an overhead cupboard, let it soak under the running water, and then shut the faucet off.

“So, tell me. What is it that exemplary doormen do while they’re on the job? Perhaps I just need a lesson or two…”

Your arm swung in wide circles over the countertop, collecting any spilled coffee grounds with the damp cloth and guiding them into the sink.

“Oh, he was just bringing up the script that was dropped off while I was out last night.” You nodded towards a neat stack of correspondence beside him on the counter. At the very bottom was a large, cream-colored packet with the words “PERSONAL and CONFIDENTIAL” stamped in red ink at each corner.

“Well, that was very thoughtful of him.”

You nodded in agreement. “Apparently he was very excited when he arrived at work this morning and saw it. He just couldn’t wait to bring it up here.”

“I see. And this doorman - is he a strapping young lad?” Loki grinned. It was hard to say if he just wanted to make you smile again, or if he was actually trying to suss out any potential competition for your affections. “A dashing gentleman, eager to impress a beautiful woman such as yourself?”

The countertops now wiped clean, you made an amused and befuddled face as you began to rinse out the washcloth in the sink. “Oh, my God, no! He’s my father’s age, I’ve known him since I was a child.”

Loki’s smile shifted into warmth, his heart full with the reassurance that there were so many people out there who loved and cared about you. He wondered if you knew how lucky you were, and what his life might have looked like if he had been afforded the same luxury.

But as it was, everything seemed to be like it should. The vessel on the range was steadily heating up, thanks to the light blue flames licking up its sides from underneath. Your kitchen was spotless, he had a beautiful companion at his side, and for once, Loki wasn’t being hunted by an enemy hellbent on either killing him or ruining his life again.

“I went to school with his daughter, and she’s still my best friend. So he thinks of me as like a second daughter,” you continued, wringing out the excess water from the cloth and draping it neatly over the faucet’s neck.

“And what about this script made your second father so excited?” Loki asked, trying not to think about the fact that he’d once had two fathers himself, until he’d murdered his biological one. “Is it for a role you hope to get, or for a role you already have?”

You shifted to open another cupboard behind you. Inside, neat and organized stacks of matching dishware of the crispest white awaited your selection. You pulled out two sets of mugs and a saucer for each before turning back towards him. “Oh, it’s for - ”

An unexpected, and loud, electronic chirp interrupted your answer.

You both froze in place, but for very different reasons - your eyebrows raised, and your eyes darted around the flat as though you weren’t sure that you had actually heard the startling noise or not. You certainly had no idea what had caused it, and it showed in your expression.

Loki froze because he knew the sound had come from the TemPad hidden inside his pocket.

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

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