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messedupfan · 16 hours ago

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Chapter 25

Summary: Persistent as ever, Jean and Anna recruit Jean's mother to help with their cause. Which sparks an important conversation between Wanda and Y/n.

A/n: Helloooo! I know I'm slow with posting lately. Work has been CRAZY. Hopefully I'll get in a better rhythm soon. Especially with the hell that is coming upon us these next four years. We'll need each other to get through! Have a good day and enjoy!

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You are folding laundry for you and Rachel when your phone goes off in your pocket. You pause for a moment and pull your phone out to see that it's Jean's mom calling you. It's not unusual for her to call but it's not as common as it used to be.

“Hey Mrs. Grey, how's it going?” You say cheerfully.

Mrs. Grey makes a disapproving sound. “Y/n I've told you many times since the divorce, you can still call me mom.”

You laugh at her slight upset over the misuse of her formal name. “How are you doing, Mom?” You ask as you lean your head to the side to hold your phone between your head and shoulder.

“That's better,” she cheers. You hear some rustling around on her end. “I am doing well. I just came back to town to check on the house. The last tenants just moved out and I came to assess damages before I hire the cleaning crew and repair guy.”

“Oh, do you need a lot of repairs done? You know that I'm always happy to help,” you offer while you resume folding.

“No, no, dear. I couldn't ask you to do that for us,” she says and now you're more confused.

“Oh, I just figured that's why you're calling,” you say as you set the newly folded shirt on a stack of others.

“No dear, I was calling to ask you to lunch. Are you busy this afternoon?” She says happily. You look at your watch and consider your options. You're not certain you want to be spending time alone with your former mother-in-law. But there are worse ways to spend an afternoon.

“I would love to meet with you. Where did you make reservations?” You ask, knowing that she most likely already made reservations. She laughs and mentions that you know her too well. “I will see you at one,” you promise and say your goodbyes. While you finish folding and start getting ready you run through the scenarios of how the lunch is going to go.

As you arrive at the restaurant, your stomach begins to turn. It's a nice place. The last time you went to a nice place with one of Jean's parents, it was with her father asking you to convince Jean to not go through with the divorce. Since then you haven't been asked to dinner or lunch with either of them.

Mrs. Grey greets you with a hug as you arrive at the table. She gives you a kiss on each cheek and she squeezes your arms as she looks at you. “You look great, I love what you've done with your hair. It's nice to see it cleaned up and natural like that.”

You smile at the compliment. She has seen you with many different hairstyles over the years. She has almost never had anything nice to say about your hair until now. Your hair was growing out uneven because of the mullet so you had to cut it short in order for it to grow out properly. “Yeah, well, it wasn't working for me for a bit there. You look wonderful! How are things with you and Mr. Grey? I hear the two of you have been doing a lot of traveling.”

Mrs. Grey nods and moves to sit, “We've been good. All of our kids are so spread out, it's nice to have a reason to go somewhere. Meet all of our new grandbabies. I just love being a grandma now,” she grins as she lays out the cloth napkin on her lap. You follow as you look around the restaurant, feeling a bit out of place. It was a very nice restaurant.

“Oh yeah, I had heard that Roger finally had a kid,” you say as you lift up the menu to look at the pricing.

“Yeah, yeah, he's doing great, very happy to be a father,” she says as she goes through the menu herself. “Don't be shy now, order what you want. It's my treat!” She reminds you in a cherry tone. Something tells you that things might eventually take a turn for the worst and you do not want to leave her with a big bill. You want to be able to leave money to cover your portion of the bill.

“I appreciate that, Mom,” it feels a little foreign to call her that after all of these years. But if it makes her happy, then that's what you'll do to appease her.

You proceed to order what you can afford. You ask her about how your former in-laws are. She mentions that they miss having you officially part of the family. That none of them get along with Anna which makes you laugh since none of them actually have to deal with Jean's wife the way that you do.

You update her on your life, leaving out that you're seeing someone. Especially when she presses for the information. You don't let up because it's not the time to. Besides, you're almost certain if you tell her anything she will tell Jean then she and her wife will be on your case about it. Then Jean will recruit Kate and the information will continue to spread like rapid fire.

When you're able to drop the subject of your love-life you talk about how proud you are of your daughter. How great she's doing in school. The friends that she has made. How kind she is. How strong she is becoming.

Elaine watches you go on and on about her first granddaughter. She is impressed by the way you and her daughter have really stepped up and took on your roles as parents for her grandchild. She knows that she was harsh when the news first came out. But it's clear that neither of you hold her poor reactions against her.

Finally, once you've both finished your meals, you ask her what is really going on. Elaine dabs her lips with her cloth napkin. She sips her wine. She clears her throat and she looks up at you.

“My daughter wants to expand her family,” she states in a professional tone. She is a very good negotiator. Her entire adult life and career has been about getting her way. But you aren't nervous, not about this. “And I'm asking you to reconsider helping her do that.”

You nod your head with a growing smirk as you wipe your mouth with your napkin. “She recruited you,” you state with amusement dancing in your eyes.

“She is my daughter, I would do anything for her. You should know something about that,” she states with her cold stare.

“Yes, well, my answer is still the same. She can find someone else to grow her family with. It's not going to be me,” you state as firmly as she was speaking to you.

Elaine sets her checkbook on the table and you know exactly where this is heading. She tried this with you many times before. Had you accepted any of them, Rachel wouldn't have been born, she wouldn't have you in her life, and the divorce would have been an annulment shortly after you had gotten married.

“Stop, you know that you can't buy me off Mrs. Grey. I won't do it,” you stand firm. You pull out your wallet and leave whatever cash you have on hand but she stops you.

“What if I can guarantee you have custody?” She says and you scoff. She was not about to start negotiations. “Jean says she won't budge on it but I think I can convince my daughter what a great influence you are as a parent. Certainly better than that so-called wife of hers,” she rolls her eyes.

You almost want to laugh at the irony of this conversation. “I can't believe you, the woman who tried to pay me to convince her daughter to have an abortion, is now asking me to get her daughter pregnant.”

“Times have changed. She's not getting any younger and she cannot afford to pay for treatment to-”

“Why don't you pay for it for her then?” You interrupt her. She clamps her mouth shut. Astonished by your abrupt question. You don't typically stand up for yourself in such a way. You are known to walk away to think or remain quiet. But speaking up to her like this, it's unusual. “If I decide to have another child, it will not be with your daughter. I will not have her and everyone else she mentions this to bully me into changing my mind.” You sigh as the upset quickly leaves your body. “Thank you for the meal, I would love for us to stay in touch and meet again under different circumstances. Better circumstances.”

You walk out of that restaurant and breathe in the fresh air to calm yourself down. You want to call Jean to tell her off but you don't. Instead, you call Wanda and ask if she is available. It had been a couple of weeks since her son's birthday where she admitted that she was having conflicting feelings about you and her. You gave her space the last couple of weeks to see if she would reach out on her own. But you needed her now.

Luckily, she hears the upset tone in your voice and asks you to come over without question. Next thing you know, you're parking your truck in her garage. You walk into her house and she greets you in the laundry room with a hug.

She takes your hand and leads you to her room. “My mom is having a book club meeting,” she says softly as the two of you quietly climb the stairs. You look over your shoulder to see her mom surrounded by a group of women her age engrossed in a conversation discussing presumably the book that's in their hands.

You sit on the edge of Wanda’s bed and look at your hands. You let out a big breath. You have missed being in her presence the last couple of weeks and part of you hates that this is the way that you return to her presence.

Wanda stands by the door, she has her fingers laced together as she observes you. She has missed having you around. She knows that she is the one who asked for space but she didn't consider that you would actually respect that request. No matter how good this time apart has been for her. It gave her time to reflect and realize that the only red flags you have are the red flags she has. Nothing extreme, nothing she can't handle. She has been meaning to call you and invite you over but she couldn't explain why she needed the space so she waited until she could. She expected the next time she'd see you, you would have that award winning smile of yours. She didn't expect to see you this way. This upset.

“What happened, Y/n?” She finally asks. You look up at her and blink a couple of times.

“I…” you sigh and lick your lips. “Jean got her mom to ask me to help her have another baby.” You rip the bandaid off not seeing any other way to approach the subject. Wanda gasps as she sits next to you.

“I thought they moved on from that,” Wanda says as she puts her hand on your back.

You nod, “So did I, but they completely blind sided me. Her mom was willing to pay me off.”

Wanda shakes her head. “Unbelievable. I cannot believe her. I cannot believe she would do that! After everything that happened the last time she asked you. I cannot believe she would get her mom involved in this to pay you off!”

You agree, it is insane that they would bring this up again. Let alone bring her mother into this. You cannot believe that it has come to this. You almost want to cave just so that they'd leave you alone about this. You sigh as you reach for Wanda's hand. “Should I give them a baby? I mean, not in the way they wanted but I don't know. Should I just… donate to them. Am I the one that's just being crazy and stubborn?” You ask as you think about the amount of stories you've found online where families have done this sort of thing. That a couple that cannot produce a child on their own approached their ex partner to have another baby together. And they accept with no issues. You're starting to think you were being selfish.

“Y/n, you're not being crazy. You don't want to do that. It's your choice, you have a choice in this and you chose not to do it. That is something they have to respect. The whole thing is completely unfair to you.” Wanda reminds you as she turns your head to face her by pulling your chin. “Yes, had you agreed the first time, it could have been seen as this selfless beautiful thing that you did. But I've watched you tear yourself apart about this. It would have destroyed you to agree to it. You would have regretted it the moment that she announced that she was pregnant. You would have regretted it every week you had to pick up Rachel and pretend that her sibling is not your child too. You would have hated yourself when one day that child found out the truth and felt like you abandoned them. You made the right decision not only for yourself now but for everyone in the future.”

You listen to Wanda as she speaks so strongly about your decision. Defending you against your thoughts of yourself and against the perception of everyone else against you.

She has a point. This scenario can only be a beautiful one if everyone was in agreement. But you don't want this. That was never in your mind in terms of expanding your family. The thought never occurred to you that they'd one day approach you about helping them with that especially since Anna seemed disinterested in the idea of ever caring for a baby. She would tell people the reason she wanted to adopt was because she could avoid the baby stage.

Now she wants to ask this huge thing of you because she is insecure of her role in Rachel's life? You could not believe it.

“You're right,” you say as you hold eye contact with her. You hadn't realized just how much you've missed gazing into those green eyes of hers until now. “I'm sorry to dump this on you. How are you doing? Have you figured out what you needed to?”

Wanda shakes her head as she scoots closer to you. “This is something serious. I'm glad you came to me with this instead of sitting alone in your apartment or going to Bucky and Steve whose solutions are typically to just let you vent and drink. Which is not helpful because then they just dump you onto me.” You let out a soft huff of a laugh as you nod because it's true. She caresses your cheek with the back of her fingers as she pulls her bottom lip under her teeth with her tongue. Her eyes bounce around, gazing into your eyes, glancing at your lips. “And I have, by the way. Figured out what I needed to, I mean. I've missed you and I think I'm ready to start telling people about us. Not today or tomorrow but… soon.” She says nervously. You break out into a big grin and pull her against you in a celebratory hug.

“That just made my day, truly,” you say as you continue to hold her close. Wanda starts to push against you by your shoulders to create some space. As you're about to apologize, she keeps you quiet with her lips on yours. It has felt like a lifetime since you've been able to hold her and kiss her. You're not certain when the last time was and you don't care to think about it as you lay on top of her on her bed.

“We have to be quiet,” she whispers as your lips are on her neck and her fingers are working on your jeans. “I don't want us to embarrass my mom in front of her friends.”

You chuckle at the statement. “You mean you have to be quiet,” you remind her as your hands slip under her shirt. She lets out a soft whisper and you chuckle again. “See?”

She rolls her eyes and mutters, “Shut up.”

After, you are holding Wanda in your arms as the pair of you settle down. You start to think about the future. Consider when exactly you will be ready to have another baby. It just seems like it's too late. Rachel is in middle school, she is grown up. When the kids are grown you're not supposed to have more, you're supposed to wait to have grandkids. Then you remind yourself that you are still young enough to have kids. In fact, this is how you have them the proper way. Or at least the way that stable adults have families.

There's also the fact that Wanda might not want to have more kids. She did try to expand her family but it didn't work and instead her family fell apart. You hate that she blames herself for what Vision did to their family. You clench your jaw at the thought and your arm tenses up. Wanda notices and starts to rub your arm softly.

“What's on your mind?” Wanda asks with eyes closed as she presses her head further into her pillow.

You hesitate to speak. This isn't the time to ask about the future of your family with her. This is the time to hold her and worship her. To be present with her and not spinning around in your head. You kiss her cheek as you try to calm down and return to the moment with her. She looks so relaxed and comfortable. You don't want to change that. She deserves to be relaxed for a moment.

“Nothing, it can wait until tomorrow,” you whisper as you loosen your hold on her.

“Mmm no, we can talk now. If you need,” Wanda fights her sleep as she tries to open her eyes. You shake your head with a smile.

“Go to sleep, we can talk about it tomorrow,” you repeat yourself as you caress her cheek. Wanda tries to hold onto consciousness a bit longer. It was a little early for bedtime but she was exhausted and perfectly satisfied. Every muscle in her body was asleep after the massage you had given her. As well as the many other things you did to pleasure her.

She doesn't fight you or her body anymore. She falls into a deep sleep and you follow shortly, once you're able to shut off your mind.

You wake to her alarm and you curse yourself as you remember that you didn't set your phone up to charge. This wasn't meant to happen the way it did. But you only have yourself to blame as you find your dying phone. You quickly set it up to charge while you get ready. You brush your teeth and get dressed in the clothes you wore the day before. Wanda showers and goes through her morning routine. While she does, you head down stairs to make coffee for her and yourself.

As you're pouring the coffee into the mugs, Wanda is walking down with wet hair and a casual outfit. “No meetings today?” You ask as you slide her mug towards her. She typically dresses up a bit more when she has meetings with her co-workers and/or clients and potential clients. She shakes her head as she lifts her mug to her face and sits on the stool at the counter. You nod and check your watch to gauge how much time you have before going to work.

“It's Sunday,” Wanda says as she swallows. You look at her like she's crazy until you realize that she is right. It's not Monday quite yet. You start laughing to yourself as you set your coffee down.

“I'm all messed up from yesterday,” you laugh as you gesture towards your head. “Speaking of which,” you clear your throat and look into your mug. You bite your cheek nervously as you think of the best way to approach the subject. “Have you thought about having more kids?” You ask with your eyes bouncing between Wanda and your mug.

Wanda sets her mug down and clears her throat. “I think I'm going to need this coffee to kick in before I'm ready to have that conversation.” You nod in agreement and scratch the back of your head with a nervous laugh. She was right, this was not something you talk about first thing in the morning.

So you ask her how she slept and if she was hungry. Then you make her some breakfast, as you're cooking the aroma wakes her mother so you make enough for all three of you. Then the topic of conversation becomes her mother and the book club. Apparently, the meeting was less about the book and more about gossip as you listen to stories about people you've never met and may never meet in your life.

Once everyone is done eating, you try to wash the dishes but Ms. Maximoff refuses to allow you to since you made the breakfast. She has Wanda clean them on her own while she traps you in a longer conversation about you and your future. Your girlfriend tries to spare you but her mother is very insistent. You stumble your way through some answers since some of her questions are questions you have yourself.

She starts to ease up on you and starts to go on and on about her life and gossip from around her neighborhood. The scandals of the elder community. You react as though you care that Marjorie is sleeping with Thom and Chad, which makes you realize there are elders with the name Chad, without either knowing. Or that you sympathize with the

After a while, Wanda gives you the signal that she is ready to talk. You nod and attempt to end the conversation with her mother. You fail miserably and Wanda has to come to your rescue.

“Mom, hey, I need to take Y/n from you,” she says as she pulls on you to rise from your seat.

“Oh but we're having so much fun! I haven't even gone over what David over on the corner house might be up to. Giant garbage bags, every other week. We think it's bodies or-”

“Mom,” Wanda interrupts. “I’m taking my partner back. Okay?” She pulls you closer to her and Ms. Maximoff laughs. She waves the two of you off and says that she needs to get started on her day anyway. You turn to Wanda with a shrug.

The two of you walk to her bedroom to privately discuss. Wanda shuts her bedroom door and you walk around her room. Looking at her photos as you usually do. Wanda sits on her bed with her back against the headboard. Her eyes follow your every move as she thinks about your question. She can have more kids. She talked with her gynecologist at her most recent check up just in case this conversation ever did come up. Her doctor said she had never seen such clean results from Wanda. She assured her that she would be fine to have another baby, maybe ever two of she desired.

But did Wanda want to have another baby? Her boys are so close to becoming teenagers. Your daughter is right there as well. Would it be wise for the two of you to have another baby?

“I don't know how I feel about intentionally trying for a baby at this point in my life.” Wanda starts, grabbing your attention away from the photo of her on her first day of college. “I have two pre-teenage boys who can be a handful at times and are already struggling with the younger siblings they have from their father. I don't know if I want to contribute to their insecurities by having another child,” she expressed her concerns when it comes to her boys.

You nod as you join her on the bed. You sit in front of her just next to her legs. You reach for her hand and she willingly gives you her hand. “Hey, I'm not even certain I want another kid. I was only asking because I keep saying no to Jean. I don't want you to think I'm saying no to you.”

Wanda looks at you and tilts her head. “If I'm honest, I didn't consider that. I know that the situation with Jean and what's happening between us are completely separate things. So that didn't cross my mind,” she explains that your worries aren't hers in that regard.

“Well, that's reassuring,” you chuckle softly because you feel a little ridiculous about making that assumption. “I'm open to the idea with you. But I'm fine if you don't want to go through another pregnancy.”

Wanda pulls your hand closer towards her. She looks at the palm of your hand and traces the lines with her finger tip. She thinks about the art you make with this hand. The pleasures you've brought her with this hand. The tears you've wiped from her face. The food you've made. Then she thinks about you holding her pregnant belly when the weight gets to be too much for her. She thinks about you holding her child in this hand. Butterflies flutter in her stomach at the idea.

“Let's just… if it happens, we'll talk about it then,” she says softly. “We'll go over our options at that time. But let's not make a thing of it. We don't need to start telling people about us and including that we're trying. We can just,” she shrugs as she drops your hand and places her arms around your shoulders as she leans forward. “Well we haven't even discussed marriage yet but knowing your track record, kids are what come first.” She teases and your eyes widen momentarily to show your shock and amusement of the statement.

“Of course, with most people they just get a sappy speech and a ring. With me, you get real commitment,” you add jokingly which makes the two of you laugh. You lean closer and kiss her lips. “You're right. We need to be talking about marriage and our commitment to each other before we talk about having kids. I only brought it up because of everything that's going on right now.”

Wanda smirks, “I know honey, that's why I entertained the conversation without shutting you down. It's one of the many topics of conversation we should have before going straight to the marriage of it all. You know? What if we got married and weren't on the same page about this?”

You nod as you agree, “It's exactly why I'm glad we're taking things slow. I would love to whisk you away to Vegas and elope. And I probably would have if we'd have met at a different time in our lives. But we both have a lot to consider outside of ourselves.”

Wanda's thumb moves back and forth on your neck. “You're a very wise and considerate person, Y/n. What did I ever do to deserve you?” Her eyes are locked on yours as she searches for any kind of malice or false intentions. All she finds is kindness. She cannot fathom what her life would be like had you not made yourself part of it.

“Have an ex with poor taste in liquor,” you remark on the first conversation you ever had with her. She smiles.

“I was a mess,” she states as she bites her bottom lip and drops her face shyly.

You nod in agreement. “You were, and I didn't want to seem like some creep going after vulnerable people by talking to you. By the way, my intentions were pure. That night.” You point between the two of you. “I never had this goal in mind until the night we hung out after my camping trip.”

She looks back up, a little shocked by this news. Especially since you ended up dating someone else after that night. “Really? So why go after Daisy?” She asks as she looks over your features. Taking in every detail of your face. Your jawline, your smooth skin with a chicken pox scar on your forehead. She loves every detail of you.

You shrug as you try to remember that time. It was only several months ago. Or was it a year ago by now? It feels like a lifetime ago. “Fear, insecurities, and a long list of other reasons that don't make a lot of sense but at the same time they do. I mean, we're still afraid to be together.”

Wanda nods as she listens to you explain. You're not wrong there. She was pushing you away for weeks because of how afraid she is to be in love with you. “I'm not anymore. Afraid, I mean. I love you and I only want to be with you. I hope forever but you never know.”

You chuckle at her last comment and kiss her on the lips. “Yeah, you never know.” She smiles before leaning in for another kiss. You rub the spots on her back where you have your hands placed. You continue to pull her closer and closer as the kiss continues. You love her and you can't wait to tell everyone.

Chapter 26

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#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff imagine #wonderstruck series #wanda marvel #messedupfan #fanfiction #wanda fanfic #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda x you #wonderstruck

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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 3 days ago

Text

Trust Nelly's instincts

Aw hey, time for the infamous second pharmacy run

What -- Maggie said that the area where the drugstore is has been empty. Thank God, an uneventful trip sounds great! And nothing has gone wrong with keeping the secret about the barn, so, things are looking pretty good right now. And it's so weird that you thought it looked like Carl had a gun tucked into the waistband of his cargos, right? As if.

Who -- The series is slow-burning, canon-compliant Daryl x Reader. In this chapter, you're joined by Maggie, Glenn, Hershel, Lori, Carl, big brother Shane, Rick, Dale, a cameo by Jimmy, and most importantly: Nelly! (<- she's the horse)

When -- Chronologically after "A near-perfect Sunday," Meaning we're back where we left off in Season 2. This chapter takes place in S02 episode Secrets, and as with all chapters that take place directly in an episode, there is word-for-word show dialogue.

Special note -- The last chapter published was a time skip all the way to Daryl Spinoff Season 1, for those who want a little bit of non-linear fun featuring angst and fluffy yearning

Perspective -- 2nd person

Pronouns - none

TWs - mild language, bad screenshots, some intense scenes.

Masterlist to the rest of the Slowpoke Series :D

Trust Nelly's instincts

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Morning

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“I feel so special!” you sing. Nervous Nelly is letting you ride her again!

Mr. Greene gave you permission to ride her at your request. In fact, you can’t help but squeal, “Thank you, Mr. Greene!” one last time. You hadn't expected your squeal to travel quite so far, but you see his tiny, far off form turn ever so slightly and raises his hand in acknowledgment. Ha.

Thrice so far you’ve practiced riding on horseback for the pharmacy trip. You’ll be leaving with Maggie and Glenn closer to noon, and the trip might should last an hour and a half to two hours? Maybe less, you don’t know. After target practice, T-Dog is doing an extended search for Sophia today with Carol and Rick, so he’s not coming anymore.

The list is all ready to go. You’re going to look for one of the bio-identical types of progestogen that Lori was prescribed before. She’d miscarried a bunch of times, and finally (finally) her doc had her try it out because Lori had done the research and brought it up. The first trial ended in another loss, as was expected. Except she didn’t get pregnant again that she knew of until now.

As for the Rh shot, you have no idea if it would even work anymore. You don’t know how it’s supposed to be stored or what the shelf life is. But there's a high chance she’ll need it if both baby and her are going to survive.

Ooh, maybe the pharmacy has a manual you can utilize! Like, you have a Merck Manual but it only goes so far.

Either way, your prayer is that Lori and new baby make it to the finish line together. Another loss, now, may be too much for her to handle.

“You’re the sweetest horse, yes you are, sugar,” you coo. “Such a pretty, sweet horse, Nelly, such a sweet, sensitive girl.” *muah!* “I love you, Nelly-belly!”

The snickering you hear is…ah, Jimmy’s.

Side-eyeing him, you make your accent fancy like Blanche Devereaux’s and pretend to glower. “Hmph! It appears young James is jealous of our bond, Miss Eleanor. Pay the boy no mind.” If only your attempt to turn her around like a pro didn’t result in her doing a 360. Twice. In opposing directions when you tried to correct her, oof, that’s embarrassing.

“I thought you’d ridden before.”

“I did for fun when I visited friends at a rez in Oklahoma. We’d hang at the ranch nearby.” You were so painfully homesick the first (and second and third and fourth) time(s) that it’s shocking you chose to go back in one or two-week increments during so many summers. How Zee and Suri survived those entire summers visiting their mom’s side of the family out of state, mostly away from their parents, you may never know. “I learned how to ride a motorcycle there, too.”

“Cool, you know how to ride a motorcycle?”

“Yes indeed!”

He must be so proud of his follow-up: “Do you ride ’em better than you ride horses?”

“Difficult to say when clearly I am a great expert on the saddle, farm boy,” you goof off.

Jimmy just chuckles and brings the brush and hoof pick back to the stables.

You try your hand at having the horse canter (is that the word for horse jogging? Or is that trotting?). It goes okay. You just need to remember to use the reins to slow her down, not your feet, which make the opposite happen.

After 10 or so more minutes of practice during which you go back and forth pretending you’re in the Lord of the Rings or in the Old West, you hop down and hitch her to the fence post so you can pee before you go back to the campsite.

It’s your turn to wash the dishes from breakfast.

What a comfort that this trip is more than likely going to be entirely uneventful. Maggie went with Otis lots of times into town, and then her and Glenn’s trip was fine, too. According to her, the place is now empty. She hasn’t even seen any dead ones for weeks.

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Mid-morning

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“Glenn,” you murmur when he walks by with the latest bushel of bribery-peaches. He’s staring at the barn a little too obviously again. His skin looks clammy, too. “Did you have another nightmare about it?”

“A really bad one, right before I woke up. I keep—” he shivers. “Every time I look in that direction, it’s like déjà vu.”

“That sucks.” What else to say…“Only a few more days and we can revisit how to tell people. I really think I that time Mr. Greene will see reason. I got a feeling about it.”

“And I’ve got a feeling that they’re gonna bust down the doors and eat us.”

“They wouldn’t bother, you’re too skinny. You should eat more of them peaches,” you joke. “And enough carryin’ food like you’re still the delivery guy.”

“It helps me feel in control,” he admits. “I swear, I almost blurted it out to your brother when I was walking around with the basket just now.”

A shiver runs through you. “Well, thank you for not. Want my mp3 player?”

“No. I want to be able to hear when they break the chains around the door.”

You’re momentarily distracted when Carl walks by with a thick stick in his hands. Does he have a g…no, of course not.

It’s dumb, you thought he looked like he was packing. It was just the way his shirt was puffing out and folding because of the sheath of his knife, duh. Must be on your mind because he’s been asking and hinting more and more about learning.

Just the other day, he asked when you were helping Beth with safety switch drills if you’d teach him, too. You showed him that aspect, but repeated that he’d need express permission from both parents to learn to shoot, and suggested that he go to Uncle Shane to help him ask. Shane’s the best instructor, simply put, more than Rick and T-Dog and definitely more than you.

After standing by the adults (and Jimmy, who's taken on more and more of a role in looking for Sophia) planning the day’s search areas, your nephew takes the shady spot under the awning and leans against the side of the RV. He appears to be carving a point at the end of his stick.

Aw, it’s like the way Daryl sharpens the points of his bolts sometimes. Cute. Cuter still how he’s loving wearing Rick’s deputy hat that he gifted him. Such a little man.

It looks like Beth and Patricia asked to come to target practice again today, good. Jimmy keeps trying to shoot with the gun cocked sideways, it’s pretty funny. His mom will get a laugh out of it, hopefully.

When Shane saunters over and waves you to join, he claps his arm around your shoulders from the side with a “G’morning. Say, I, uh,” he then murmurs in your ear. “I think I need your help for this. You noticed the tracking on him, too, I assume? I saw you do that double-take and I reckon you’re right.”

You trust him entirely but want him to be wrong. Carl would have had to take a gun without permission to be carrying, an idea you don’t like one bit. “It ain’t just the way his shirt’s falling?” you quietly wish.

“I been telling you: trust your instincts. You’re not an idiot.” He briefly touches his forehead to yours, takes another bite from his half-eaten peach and tilts his head toward Carl before leading the way.

“Dude. Nice lid, man,” he tells him regarding the deputy hat, then walks around to the opposite side of the RV with the two of you. “What’s goin’ on?”

Upon getting a closer look, yes indeed, Carl is carrying.

It was well done, tucking it on the same side as the sheath. Makes it easier to miss.

“Were you trying your hand at making a bolt from scratch for Mr. Dixon or just killin’ time?” you comment about his whittling. He wouldn’t have taken a gun just for ha-has, he’s a wholeheartedly good kid. You can’t quite wrap your head around it.

“I was just killing time.”

“Well, it looked cool, punk,” you tell him softly, smiling through the disappointment. Sighing, you crouch and wait for Shane to do the rest.

Carl looks at you, then at his uncle. “I wanna learn to shoot, too. Can you teach me?”

Your brother chuckles as he sits against the RV’s front grille. “Well, man, that’s, that’s up to your parents.”

“That’s what Y/N said.”

Shane nods at you. “Y/N’s right.”

“Can you talk to them? They’ll listen to you.”

Chewing another mouthful of peach, Shane takes his time but is completely serious when he agrees, “We’ll see.”

Let down, Carl nods politely and makes as if to walk away.

You hold out your hand to slow him. “Hey. A moment, little man.”

Shane gently but firmly orders, “Let us see what you got there.”

Slowly, Carl lifts the front right side of his button-down.

“Carl Lincoln Grimes,” you cannot help gasp upon seeing exactly which gun he has tucked into his belt. “That is your mama’s.”

Your brother is staring, visibly pissed. You just know he’s imagining taking a whistling teakettle off the stovetop to help keep his cool.

It wasn’t just any pistol from the bag in the RV. No, that gun is Lori’s.

Shane looks to his left where no one is standing, hurls underhand what’s left of his peach in that direction, and stands. “Thank you,” he grunts, then strides away to get Rick and Lori.

-------------------------------------

Mystery number of uncomfortable minutes later

-------------------------------------

Lori gave Carl a chiding so effective it only needed her to state her disappointment that he’d went behind their backs. She’s so upset. So upset. You’re settled at the picnic table where Carl is awaiting his sentencing.

Briefly, you catch Lori laying her hand on her stomach, her forehead knotted in worry. Hopefully she’ll tell Rick about the pregnancy soon. Guarding this secret will only lead to more hurt the longer it stays a secret. She stands from where she’s been kneeling by you in front of her son, tucks her gun into the back pocket of her jeans, and joins the other adults. Other than Rick and yourself, Shane of course stayed, but Dale is also here.

“Bet you four quarters someone brings up how I started learning gun stuff when I was eight,” you whisper to your nephew, trying to lighten his mood.

Carl doesn’t make a yes or a no, he just sort of looks up at you, then back down at his shoes.

It sounds like Lori’s questioning herself more than anyone. “How the hell did this happen?”

“Well, it’s my fault. I let him into the RV,” Dale explains. (Except, that doesn’t make him at fault.) Here’s the kicker that he reveals, however: “He said that he wanted a walkie, that you sent him for one.”

Your mouth drops. Stealing the gun was out of character enough, but he also lied? That is not like him. At all.

Seeing your appall, Carl bows his head even more.

Poor Lori by taken by such surprise that her childhood accent begins to slip out. “So on top of everything else, he lied?” she chastises, then begins discussing something with Rick, the words too soft to make out.

Whatever they are, your brother must hear. “He wants to learn how to shoot. He asked both me and Y/N to teach him,” he says. “Now, it’s none of my business, but I’m happy to do it. It’s your call.”

“I’m not comfortable with it,” Lori is quick to answer, but her face falls into incredulity when she looks at her husband. “Oh, don’t make me out to be the unreasonable one here. Rick?”

“I know. I have my concerns, too, but—”

“—There’s no ‘but,’ he was just shot!”

Hearing her say this brings to the surface every painful detail of that awful, awful day.

Immediately and unexpectedly, you release a sob. You have to quickly stand and take a few steps away, holding your breath, trying to compose yourself and not make a scene. Shane’s familiar footfall sounds behind you, and you feel him peck a kiss on your head.

The next part of the discussion that draws your attention is your name after Rick mentions something about safe gun handling.

“Y/N, you were doing safety drills with Beth and him just the other day, is that right?”

“Ricky, leave me alone,” you huff. Carl gets up and wraps his arms around you. You hug him back and wonder how scared or responsible for others’ safety he must feel that he’d steal his mother’s firearm.

Lori is resolute. “I don’t want my kid walking around with a gun.”

“But how can you defend that?” Rick counters. “You can’t let him go around without protection.”

“He’s as safe as he’ll ever be right here,” she pleads. She did not need this today, any of this. “Look, everything you’re saying makes perfect sense. It feels wrong,” is the last thing you hear. You become consumed with second thoughts, worries, guilt over the barn. If any of them found out now…

“Do you think I can say something?” Carl whispers, still with an arm around you. “I wanna speak for myself.”

You nod and pat him on the back. “Start with somethin’ to comfort your mother.”

Rick is in the middle of telling Lori, “He’s growing up, thank God. We’ve got to start treating him more like an adult.”

“Then he needs to act like one!” The reprimand stings and you’re not even the recipient. “He’s not mature enough to handle a gun.”

Carl must’ve seen a chance, because he chooses now to speak up. “I’m not gonna play with it, Mom. It’s not a toy.” He walks toward the ring of adults as calm as could be. “I’m sorry I disappointed you. But I wanna look for Sophia and I want to defend our camp. I can’t do that without a gun.”

If you loved that kid any more, you’d explode. Just look at Lori's face, it's plain as day she's thinking the same.

“Shane’s the best instructor I know.” What a compliment from Rick. “I’ve seen him teach kids younger than Carl. Y/N was only eight.”

“I told ya someone would dredge that up,” you say under your breath. Shane raises an eyebrow at you, not being so bold as to smirk.

Carl turns and grins, however. “Guess I owe you a dollar.”

Lori appears to relent, coming to an agreement with Rick. She looks at her son and cups his chin the way she’s done for as long as you can remember.

“You will take this seriously and you will behave responsibly. And if I hear from anyone in this camp that you are not livin’ up to our expectations—”

“—He won’t let you down,” his father promises.

Lori kisses her boy on his head, kisses Rick’s cheek. She then looks at her stomach, looks at you, but averts her eyes so quickly away from yours that it gives you a pause. Something about it hits as eerily familiar, like the night at the CDC.

Red flag.

Not three minutes later when you’re finally finishing your turn on dish duty, she picks up the empty rinse pail. “Are you and Glenn still going to the pharmacy today?”

“Yes. We’re takin’ the horses. Teddy isn’t coming anymore but it will be us two and Maggie.”

“Good. I, um,” she trails off. Again, she won’t quite look at you.

What’s wrong? Did you offend her earlier? “Lore, what’s up?”

“Oh, I’m, I’m just preoccupied. It’ll be interesting to see what target practice is like,” she brushes it off.

“Everything okay with,” and you flit your gaze to her belly.

“Well, there's so bleeding or pain," she answers in a very soft voice. "And I still can’t stand the smell of meat or eggs, so..."

The best you can come up with is about as helpful as a screen door on a submarine: “Thank God we have all these peaches.”

“I cannot tell you how many I’ve eaten,” she begins to chat, seeming grateful for an excuse to change the subject. If only her smile was reaching her eyes. “Half of my body weight is probably peaches at this point.”

“Same,” you snort.

The conversation ends.

You’re left with the disquieting notion that there’s a big red flag you’ve missed.

-------------------------------------

Noon

-------------------------------------

Mr. Greene calls your name when you have just dismounted Nelly so you can lead her to the mailbox where you’re meeting Maggie and Glenn. Maggie’s going to adjust the straps on all three saddles before you three set out. You turn to Mr. Greene, happy as a clam that you’ve gotten the hang of riding Nelly and that Carl is safe with both mom and dad at target practice. After this morning’s drama, the rest of the day will seem a breeze!

You look at him.

Hershel’s gaze is too intent and direct.

Your stomach twists.

It’s so direct that a strange sense of dread and defeat presses down on you before he’s said a word.

“I am aware that you and he know.”

This stops you dead in your tracks.

No.

No, he can’t know.

The way he’s peering at you suggests that he can see straight into your mind. “To clarify, I am aware that you and your friend know about whom we are safeguarding in the barn.”

Your breathing turns shallow and quick. “But we ain’t told nobody!” slips out before you can speak with proper grammar and less twang. “W-We haven’t told anybody, sir,” isn’t much of an improvement.

If the old man had pulled a gun on you, you’d be less terrified than you are now.

He’s going to kick you all out and it’s all your fault. It’s your fault, you should’ve — if you’d — how stupid could you have been to — oh, fuck!

Lori’s voice, her words that helped get you through the panic come back to you, “Try this with me, honey.” Slowly in through the nose, out through the mouth. Yet, with this panic comes a curious style of anger that you’re almost tempted to call righteous.

“Sir, we respected your daughter’s wishes and told no one. We, we went ag-gag-” you pause, slow down, regain control over your speech. “We went against what we’ve learned. We kept quiet, and that’s, that’s with an injured man and a child among us. Sir, we are riskin’ their safety,” you very nearly lose your cool when saying.

Breathe. Take the kettle off the burner.

“If you’re of mind to, to kick us off your land for simply,” you swallow, “knowing what’s in there, I am beggin’ you, please, reconsider. Please.” You are unable to look him in the eyes for more than a second.

Unreadable. He’s unreadable.

Why isn’t he responding, at least, so you can know what the verdict is? Swing the gavel, already!

Not knowing what to do, you keep blabbing against the disquieting notion within you that you may be digging a deeper hole. “You ain’t the — I mean, you are not — the sort of man to punish the whole for an honest mistake of the few. You, you, y-you are the sort of man who,” you take a deep breath with palms open in supplication, “Rick and I was two blood-soaked strangers. Carl was a child with a shotgun wound.” How weak your voice sounds, as if already beaten. “You let us in through your doors and saved his life. That’s the kind of person you are.”

He finally answers. “So, you are aware of my reservations regarding your group.”

“We all are.”

“Again, I am inclined to appreciate your plainspokenness.”

A weak giggle.“I would say it’s more I can’t shut my mouth at times.”

Did he just find that amusing? “And yet, you have not spoken of what you know about the sick men and women.”

‘Sick men and women.’ Would it be a lapse of you to not address how wrong he is? If he’s already set to kick everyone out, maybe this is the last chance you have to change his mind.

It must’ve been written on your face because he calls it out. “And you appear to disagree with my referring to them as such.”

“Folk have to die to turn. Their souls have moved on.”

“There should be no indication of memory, in that case. I have witnessed it.”

You stand straighter. “The virus hijacks the deceased’s nervous system,” you say without a hint of a stutter. Maybe this will save you all, your speaking up at this very moment. Shane told you to trust your instincts, and they’re screaming at you to speak up.

“That is your opinion, then?” he asks, but not dismissively. He sounds genuinely curious.

“It is not my opinion, it’s a fact we learned right from the scientist at the CDC,” you risk stating. You're breathing too fast now. It’s making your fingers numb like they did before the panic attack, and your cheeks are so heated you’re beginning to sweat. “My opinion is that letting them walk is akin to desecration of a corpse, a-and I believe those people deserve a burial.”

Okay, it’s done, you’ve said your piece.

And regret it immediately.

Oh, Y/N, you stupid, stupid idiot.

You are not courageous enough to meet his eyes yet because you can tangibly feel his stare.

“Then I must ask you…” Oh, no, you stupid, stupid idiot, Y/N. “…How you could allow such a thing to continue, if you indeed feel so strongly?”

Nelly appears to become agitated.

Your bottom lip begins to wobble. “Sir, w-we need someplace safe.” This conversation is not only defeating, it’s humiliating. “We are completely at your mercy, Mr. Greene, you know this.”

“So at my mercy that you’d allow ‘corpses’ to be ‘desecrated.’”

That word must have really struck a nerve. You stupid, stupid, idiot.

“Th-they’re contained,” you attempt. If he leaves before you can smooth things, it’s on you if your people are kicked out. On. You. And when someone is killed because the lot of you got kicked out, it will be entirely on you, their blood on your hands. The hand you used to stanch the flow from Amy’s neck begins to feel covered in it once more. “They can’t hurt nobody in there, so that’s, um—y-you’re givin’ them dignity and reverence in that way. That’s not immoral.”

The description, you hope will offset the clear sting that the word ‘desecration’ had on him.

It wasn’t all a lie on your part, either. He is clearly trying to give those walkers dignity. He just doesn’t understand that they’re dead and not coming back.

“Y/N, thank you for your candor but please do not feel the need to hold my hand. There are far more troubling outlooks than yours,” he calmly intones. “I surmise that you are not aware that the older gentleman in your group now knows.”

Excuse you? “You mean Mr. Horvath knows?” You stare at your clean, non-bloodied hand to prove that it's not soaked.

“He described having taken a walk near the barn, hearing the sick inside. He was the picture of respect. However…”

You’re starting to feel unstable on your feet. What’s the catch?

“When I discussed this with my family, Maggie was inclined to believe that your friend had told him. This, of course, led to my being made known that the two of you had also made the discovery.”

You lift your eyes through the fear to meet his, one hand on the fence post for stability. “Sir. Are we to leave right quick?”

“No.”

“When should we be ready, sir,” you don’t even bother to make sound like a question. You wipe your hand on your shirt but the feeling of it being sticky with blood remains. “I-I only wish to be prepared.” You stupid, stupid idiot.

“I’ve not made any decision yet on the matter.” He hasn’t made — what? “Young Carl requires more time to recuperate and there’s the sad fact of the young girl being not yet found.”

You grip the fencepost. The group isn’t kicked out?

Mr. Greene continues, unaware that your relief is so intense that you just might float away. “Daryl is not quite on his feet yet, either, and seeing as he is one of the stronger members of your group, it wouldn’t be charitable to — are you well?”

You’re leaned against the post with your eyes closed because you started to see sparkles. Mr. Greene repeats his question.

“Mmhm,” you breathe. “Sir, are you sure you’re not drivin’ us off now?”

There are a few moments where he doesn’t respond. When he does, it’s in a low, soft tone. “You were under the impression I sought you out in anger, to order your group off my land?”

You aren’t thinking straight. Admitting, “If you’d held a gun to my head, I’d have been less scared out my wits,” is completely unintentional.

“Y/N, I,” you hear him sigh. “I am sorry that the prospect is so thoroughly frightening. To answer you clearly: no. I have not made any hard decisions as of yet. For the time being, your people are still recovering and getting settled.”

Rather than the sheer gratitude you intend to convey, you manage one, breathless, solitary: “O-Okay.”

“Oh, child…” He takes something out of his shirt pocket and offers it to you. A handkerchief.

You accept it and use it to blot your eyes dry and wipe your nose.

“It was not my intention to cause so much anxiety. I merely wished to convey my thanks, and to gain assurance that you would continue to maintain discretion. Please accept my thanks,” he softly drawls, careful in his wording. “For the respect and understanding that you and your friend are showing to the sick individuals under my care.”

‘The sick individuals.’ If only they were. He is so convinced that they’re merely sick, that you feel pain for him.

“They are of no threat to your people,” he then assures you. “They are well-contained. My own family would be in danger if they were not, so please, take solace that they are secure. The only way they would get out is if someone took the effort and time to let them out.”

“Okay.” If there’s an elegant way to save the conversation, it’s lost on you.

You do finally look him in the eye for longer than glance. He’s squinting in a way similar to how Rick does. Particularly, he appears concerned.

“Are you feeling well enough to accompany Margaret and the boy to the drugstore?”

You sniff and shuffle your feet. “Yes, sir.”

“You two are experienced in such outings, I’ve gathered.”

“Glenn and I have gone on many. We’re a good team.”

“I think they’re waiting for you by the gate,” he says with a nod toward their direction. “God protect you. And — Y/N? When you’re out there, trust Nelly’s instincts.”

-------------------------------------

35 minutes later

-------------------------------------

La-ti-da, the rest of the day will be a breeze compared to this morning’s drama, well, what a clueless little dewdrop you were.

The talk with Hershel notwithstanding, Glenn decided to be the biggest, most embarrassing nerd in the entire world and make the trip the worst, most awkward trip in the world!

Okay, might could be you’re exaggerating.

But he did say to Maggie seemingly out of the blue, “You didn’t have to come. You could hate me from a distance,” to only follow it up with “Please say something.” Like, was the man serious?

Maggie, so far, hasn’t uttered a peep in reply.

You as well are leaning toward saying silent. All you’d said was your short piece when the three of you first set off, explaining what Mr. Greene was talking to you about and that you were taking the rear, thank-you-very-much. The stress and panic from earlier mutated into getting m-a-d.

Although, there was also the brief incident where you, maybe due to being overtired or still out-of-it from speaking with Hershel, started absently giggling over the line from Friends, ‘They don’t know that we know that they know!”

Maggie smiled vaguely when you explained.

From your spot in back it’s really not so uncomfortable and awkward a trip. Every so often, you look behind you and to either side. So far, it’s been all-clear every time. It’s a treat, really.

More houses, spaced far apart, begin to come into view. Soon there are street signs and overgrown sidewalks.

So far, things have been very uncomfortable but entirely undramatic and uneventf—

“Whoa, Nelly belly, you okay?”

Her ears have gone back and she’s resisting going further.

“What’s up? Is there something scary, sugar?” you softly worry aloud. “Margaret, Glenn?” you call.

Maggie looks back to see the horse reacting to whatever is spooking her. Her eyes narrow and she looks all around.

“I know she’s ‘nervous’ but,” you lose your train of thought. “I’ll get off and lead her, Maggie?” you then ask more than decide, but dismount all the same. Don’t want to get reared off like Daryl.

Glenn sits up straight, alert and scanning the area. “Do you think she sees one?”

“I ain’t too sure.” Mr. Greene’s warning to ‘Trust Nelly’s instincts,’ pops into your head. “Maybe she smells one.” Like you'd been taught, you reach up to stroke her t-spot and help soothe her. She mainly pulls her head away from the attempt.

“Try a treat, too,” Maggie suggests. “Eating comforts them into feeling safer.”

You take the butter knife and one of the peaches (don’t worry about running out, you packed 7 peaches) from your bookbag and slice it in half to remove the pit. “I’ll lead her on foot,” you decide.

Maggie seems wary. “We’re almost there.”

She and Glenn go on. Nelly permits you to lead her, so you feel better.

Her instincts are saying it’s okay to go now.

-------------------------------------

5 minutes later

-------------------------------------

Maggie had described it as empty. Empty it sure is. It’s nice to see a commercial area that doesn’t have much broken glass or trash.

It does get to you sometimes; when you and Shane went to scrounge for what you could back when the lootings had died down, neither of you smashed things. Why did people smash things? Break stuff, trash stuff, steal stuff? The riots were such bullsh — you’re being uncharitable again. Right and wrong aside, people were panicked and going mad. Not that it’s a good reason, but still, few are immune to mass hysteria. When people are scared or angry, it’s contagious and folk aren’t in their right minds.

Besides, walkers were responsible for some of the smashed glass, namely full-length windows. They ran fast in the onset and getting cut on glass doesn’t bother them.

Anyway, yeah, this area didn’t have much of that, it seems. Granted, you’re at the edge of the ‘downtown,’ but the street looks great, to be honest. A lot of windows in the small buildings are intact.

In a sudden rush of excitement, you call, “Sophia! It’s Y/N and Glenn! Are you here, baby?”

No answer.

“Sophia!”

No answer.

You shake your head and walk faster, Nelly matching your pace.

Looks like the drugstore is ahead to the left. The inside appears pretty bare-bones from what you can tell from the outside.

Now is when Glenn attempts to talk more. “Maggie, I—”

“—I asked for your trust and you betrayed it. Now my dad’s pissed at me.” Maggie immediately claps back. “Your turn.”

“So your dad thinks they’re sick?”

“You know they all do,” you murmur to yourself. God, help them see, you pray simply.

“You agree with that, even after what you saw at the well?” he puts to her, and good on him. She and her dad could use some cold, hard truth. If only her father had seen the walker at the well.

“I’m not sure what I saw at the well,” Maggie answers uncomfortably. She dismounts and moves to hitch her horse to one of the beams in front of the pharmacy.

Glenn looks at you for support before challenging her, “Yes, you are.”

“Maggie, we saw it together,” you agree softly. “Split in half, still biting.”

“And there’s no way a person, sick or not, could survive that!” Glenn exclaims. “Look, if you saw Atlanta, you would not have a barn full of walkers!”

“I wish you would stop callin’ them that!” Maggie yells.

Glenn softens. “What do you call them?”

“Mom. Shawn,” she goes on, tying her horse’s lead with such ease that she hardly needs to look. “Mr. and Mrs. Fischer. Lacey. Duncan.”

It hadn’t really made sense to you until now that, for the Greenes, they are (were?) operating with a confidence that a cure was possible, that their loved ones were only sick. To learn after all these months, after hoping and putting in all that work to keep them ‘safe’, to learn that they have been dead and cannot come back is somehow less bearable to imagine going through.

“I’ll hitch the horses. I’m still worried about Nelly, so I’m gonna stay out here awhile,” you mumble to Glenn, then pull out the updated list you’d made and hand it to him. “I made three more copies. It’s got some updates from the last one.”

“I’ll help you with the reins,” Maggie answers for him, and takes over tying the horse’s lead for him.

Glenn stares at the ground, says “I have my own list,” and goes inside by himself.

That doesn’t irritate at all…

Maggie doesn’t speak until all three horses are securely tied to the poles. “Maybe it should’ve been just you and me today.”

“Glenn’s smart and fast. It’s better to have him here.”

“So smart he can’t keep his mouth shut.”

You have to admit, you groaned in solidarity at her comment. “He’s saved lives before, for what it’s worth,” you do need to point out.

She looks at you, then stares into space. “I’m so angry at him.”

It’s worth mentioning…“Maybe that’s a little how we feel about the barn, too.”

She places her hands on her hips. “Are you on his side, now?” she accuses.

“Come now, that ain’t fair.”

Nelly pulls back, agitated again.

“Baby, what’s the matter?” you shush to the horse. “Margaret, I’m gonna take a turn around the street.”

Maggie cautiously steps around the building, looking to either side while you do the same in the opposite direction.

“It’s clear over here,” she confirms. “Y/N, I’m gonna go inside, finish getting what we need faster.” Was that a scoff? “Lori sure knows how to ask for things. She should go fetch it all herself next time.”

Nope. You get that Maggie’s pissed, but you’re not even entertaining that bullshit attitude about Lori, especially not today. Where’d that even come from? The woman has literally done nothing to her. “Not everything on the list is needed," you offer, "but she makes them thorough because it’s with everyone’s input and needs in mind. Don’t go trashin’ her.”

At this, Margaret storms into the drugstore, leaving you outside, alone.

Good riddance, you were fixing to get huffy. Why can’t people get along and be zen for five minutes, good Moses…

You step quietly and quickly around the street, peeking through the short alleys (if they can even be called that), and making a loop around the pharmacy itself. You swear you hear rattling near the back right corner of the drug store, but Nelly’s loud whinnying mixes with your trying to pinpoint whereabouts it came from.

You call Sophia’s name again, just in case.

However, a raccoon bolting away from the general direction of the sound makes an end of both your worry and your hope. The subsequent thought you get to shoot it for food makes you sigh at the state of things. Moreso the thought that you highly prefer squirrel. But like, squirrel is hecking delicious, so oh my gosh, listen to you.

Having found no reason for Nelly’s unrest, you chalk it up to her being sensitive to the emotions of the humans with her, simple as. Her name is genuinely ‘Nervous Nelly.’

She’s still tugging at her lead, but has quieted enough.

‘Trust Nelly’s instincts’ plays through your mind again. If Mr. Greene thought it important enough to suggest it, it must be. You don’t like that she’s still uneasy.

“Nell, I’m gonna head in so we can get everythin’ and split, okay? Not much longer, won’t be ten minutes.”

You push the doors open and walk into the pharmacy. Glenn’s to the left. “Hey, man. What did you cross off the list so far?” you ask.

“I’ve been distracted. Sorry.”

“Where’s the one you made?” you question with just a hint of an attitude.

“Maggie has it. I wasn’t sure where to find…something on it.”

“Oh, what was it? I’ll go help.”

“I-I, it, she, th—nothing,” he stumbles through before pretending this could work: “I don’t know.”

You lick your teeth. What is with him today? “I’m glad you’re learnin’ to keep secrets,” you let slip in your frustration.

“Great. Now you’ve crawled up my butt, too.” He swipes a lotion off the shelf without looking and goes toward the doors, away from you.

Licking your teeth but holding your tongue, you figure you’ll start at the back of the small store and work your way forward. The prescription drugs are in the back where Maggie already is.

Ooh. The shelves back there look like there’s still a decent amount of stock on them.

“Need any help?” you extend the olive branch.

It’s not subtle the way she turns her head right, glares at Glenn, then answers, “Not for this.”

Whatever the hell that means. Seriously, can people just be zen for five minutes?

You throw your hands in the air. “Fine!” Glancing around the pharmacy section and not really clocking anything because you’re too caught up, you mutter, “There’s gotta be a manual somewhere,” and head left where it looks like there are a few smaller rooms.

There’s a strange scent in here that smells suspiciously like the dead. Must be a rodent that died in the walls?

The door to the first small room looks like it had to be crow-barred open by someone at some point. You step inside to look at the desk.

But the loud whinny from outside gives you a pause.

Trust Nelly’s instincts.

But she’s been acting up for seemingly no reason.

Trust Nelly’s instincts.

The hairs on your arms stand. You turn around, walk back to the middle, and turn your focus to the windows where you can see the horses are still hitched.

“Maggie," you quietly question. "This is normal for her?”

It’s only Nelly who’s rearing and trying to escape. The other horses seem disquieted, but only Nelly is panicked.

Trust Nelly’s instincts.

It’s the clatter of pill bottles falling to the floor that has you forgetting all about the fighting, the disagreements, the worries, and the stress.

Because the sounds of snarling only mere yards away is unmistakable even before Maggie begins to scream.

There’s a walker, reaching through the shelves that has a death grip on her wrist.

You throw yourself hard against the back-to-back storage shelving to keep it from falling on your friend and to push the dead man away from her even slightly.

“Glenn! The shelves, I can’t!” you yelp into the chaos, groaning from the strain of keeping the shelving from toppling over. “It’s got her wrist!”

But in an instant, the shelves abruptly stabilize; you lose balance and tumble hard to the ground. The walker, you twist on hands and knees to see, is rounding the corner and already — no, Margaret! It’s got its hands on her again, it’s gonna —

The few seconds it takes for you, roaring, to whip out your screwdriver and spring up from the floor seem too long, too late. The clumsy angle between it and Maggie at which you attempt to drive your weapon into its skull doesn’t work, and it tumbles from your hand and onto the ground.

The new fastest second of your life — seeing the walker’s mouth lunge for your forearm — seems to also, somehow, drag at a snail’s pace. It’s in that strange, rapid slow-motion that you rip your arm away and kick.

You reach for your pistol in a last ditch effort. The risk of the shot spraying the walker’s contaminated blood in your or her eyes or mouth outweighs the guarantee of its bite.

Ultimately, it's Glenn’s quick action with the metal board that saves you both.

From the countertop, he swings it with all his strength. Though you aren’t aware of having choosen to do so, it seems you’ve pulled Maggie down and back to get her as far from the force of the strike and the trajectory of the walker’s fall.

It collapses.

For a moment, everything turns still.

Maggie is too shocked to cry or say anything. Your arms are wrapped tightly around her even as you still tightly clutch your firearm. You can’t speak, either.

“Did it get you? Did it bite you?” Glenn cries, and you snap back to the present and begin to inspect Maggie’s arms, wrists, and hands while he squeezes her and you to him.

When the walker stands back up, its head hanging by half its neck, you have to cover Maggie’s eyes. She’s seen enough.

Glenn tries to use Daryl’s sickle machete to finish it, but ends up having to try over and over in a fury when it keeps gargling and snarling despite the blows. It’s gruesome.

You shout Glenn’s name and aim your gun at the walker, finishing it when Glenn sees and has moved away far enough to avoid the spray. The blast of the shot reverberates loudly in the closed space.

Finally, finally, all turns quiet and stays quiet. Safety switched on, you rely on muscle memory to tuck your weapon back into its concealed holster.

Glenn is panting. Maggie starts to waver where she stands, sobs coming out as the shock wears off.

You go to her. “It didn’t get you Margaret, look, all clean. J-just a little of its blood on your shirt,” you console, showing her her own wrists and arms that are trembling but blessedly uninjured. You recall the handkerchief in your pocket. “Here. Your daddy lent me this. Use it to wipe your eyes, don’t rub with your hands or arms until we get you cleaned up, o-okay? I-I got wipes, I got wipes and sanitizer. That should suit for now, sweetheart, okay?”

After a few more moments of catching your breath, you decide, “Y’all need something to drink and eat, I’ll, I’ll go get the backpack.” It’ll give Glenn and Maggie time to embrace in private. All is forgiven, you’re quite sure.

Picking up your screwdriver, you walk outside in a post-adrenaline daze. Typical for you, the post-adrenaline nausea is hitting, too. Some tears, as well. You note upon stepping into the fresh air that Nelly is calmer.

Much calmer.

Last you knew, she’d been trying to break free and escape. Right before the walker attacked, in fact…

‘Trust Nelly’s instincts.’

You wonder. If her whinnying hadn’t prompted you to take a few steps back toward Maggie’s direction, would you have had those precious extra seconds of time? Your slamming against the shelves when you did pushed the walker back enough to unsteady it, which bought Maggie the chance to free her wrist from its grasp. It gave Glenn more time to grab that piece off the metal shelving and leap up on the counter to strike it. If you hadn’t turned around because of the horse…

“Trust Nelly’s instincts,” Mr. Greene had instructed.

“Thank you, girl,” you whisper to the horse, with shaking hands blindly opening the bookbag. “I th-think you just saved some lives, Nell.”

Not only this, but the whole awful encounter showed Maggie firsthand that the walkers aren’t sick people. They’re dead. It’s the virus that makes their bodies move and walk and bite.

This terrifying day may just be your people’s saving grace.

Because if Maggie understands, her father will be more willing. And if her father understands, the walkers will be laid to rest. No more danger. No more disagreement.

You’ll still need to leave with Shane, but there’s a better chance that the group will be safe at the farm.

You praise “Thank you!” to the heavens, then boldly press a smooch to the spot above Nelly’s nose. She briefly allows you to rest your forehead there. “And thank you for your instincts.”

------------------------------------------

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911coded · 2 days ago

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Maddie and Eddie get poked a bit for all their “help” since the break up, but some good conversations are had. 🥹

Chapter 4: Ready To Lose

Buck knocks on Eddie’s door the next morning with a hangover and one last tin of christmas cookies. When Eddie comes to the door and sees the tin in his hand, his face falls.

“Aw, man, I can’t eat any more sweets!” Eddie whines. Buck chuckles as he brushes past him.

“Last batch, I promise, I’m just finishing up the last of my baking ingredients. I’m trying to clean out my kitchen and I need to talk to you about something,” Buck explains. Despite his whining, Eddie takes the tin from Buck's hand and stuffs a cookie in his mouth and motions for the kitchen.

“What’s up? You don’t look great,” Eddie said. Buck rolls his eyes and takes a seat at the kitchen table.

“Yeah, I got wine drunk with Karen yesterday afternoon which turned into evening as we talked through some decisions I needed to make,” Buck revealed.

“I hope you know you could have come to me, Buck. Just because I’m moving back to Texas doesn't mean we can’t talk, man, it just means it will be over facetime or text,” Eddie insisted.

“I know that, we’re good Eddie, I promise. I just needed to talk to someone who didn’t have a personal interest in my decisions and experience working for a classified program,” Buck explained.

Eddie chokes on the latest cookie, “Class-w-what?” Eddie asked, getting up to wipe his face with a napkin.

“Yeah, so I contacted an old friend when I found out Tommy had run away to Antarctica. He’s a civilian contractor with the air force and when I met him, he was stationed out of McMurdo, which is,” Buck said, waving a hand in the air.

“Where Tommy is, yeah. So, you are finally ready to chase him?” Eddie asked. Buck gave him a side eye with a huff and crossed his arms over his chest. “Come on, now, I apologized for the phone keep away thing!” Eddie exclaimed with a finger poke to Buck’s chest. Buck swatted his hand away and leaned forward, resting his chin on a fist.

“Anyway, this friend I mentioned talked to some of his coworkers and the next thing I know I’m getting a job offer and a retired general is traveling to the other side of the world to talk to Tommy about a job possibility, too,” Buck said.

“Jesus, Buck, who is your friend?”

“A botanist.”

“What the fuck?” Eddie swatted at the air with a hand. “Never mind. Classified. Right. Are you sure about this, Buck?”

“Yeah, I think it’s important and I know enough to be cautiously optimistic that this could be really great. I want more for my career and with you leaving, the station will lose heavy rescue status until you come back or they replace you. Either way, I would probably need to move on. When Bobby retires, Hen or Chim will be in place to take over and I’m not sure that captain is what I want next anyway. Maddie is settled with Chim and we don’t need each other for support the same way we did before. Worst case, one or both of us joins the program for 6 months to a year and then we come back to Los Angeles….” Buck trailed off.

“Or best case it’s an amazing opportunity and the two of you are wildly happy on some classified base doing big damn hero things and get married and adopt a couple of adorable babies,” Eddie finished with a shit-eating grin and a waggle of eyebrows.

***********************************

[email protected]

To: [email protected]

Dave,

You are nuts but I’m in. I put in for a leave of absence with the LAFD for 6 months. I can make a commitment with your program right now without any other information for that much time. I trust you, but without knowing what I’ll be doing, I don’t want to cut off the possibility of coming back to LA.

I’m renting out my loft to another firefighter for at least the next six months and already packed up my personal stuff to go into storage with my jeep. I’ve said all my goodbyes and I’ve contracted with a rental agency to manage everything for me, so I’m pretty much set. I just need to know what to bring with me, or what is safe to bring, and I can be in Colorado Springs on Monday.

Was it Jack that met with Tommy? How did it go? I’ve been trying not to think about it but I’m worried about Tommy. Is he ok? He’s very good at the stoic military man schtick, but he’s gotta be freaking out if General Jack gave him any information. (Do you think he hates me for bringing him to the attention of your generals? I’m trying to stay positive but you know more than anybody what I’m like.) I can’t think anymore, I’m booking the tickets and I’ll send you another message later today with my flight information. Should I expect a pick up/escort or do I make my way there myself?

Later,

Buck

**************************************************************

Buck was stacking boxes in the corner of the kitchen and trying to decide whether he should leave his towels or take them with him (they were really nice, really fluffy towels) when someone knocked on his door.

He opened it to find Maddie standing there impatiently.

“Uh, come in? I thought I was coming to dinner tonight. Did I forget something we had planned?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. Maddie bustled around Buck and took in the stack of boxes.

“What’s going on, are you moving?” Maddie asked.

Buck walked around Maddie and went back to closing up the last box, “Not exactly. I was going to tell you tonight that I put in for a leave of absence for some training in Antarctica right after New Years. I leave Monday.”

“Wait. You are going where?!!” Maddie exclaimed and twisted her hands together.

Buck sighed, already done with this conversation. “I’m taking a leave of absence from the LAFD and going to Antarctica. I am going to be an on-call firefighter and help with SAR at the Air Force base down there for a few months. I’ll be back in plenty of time for my newest nibling to be born. This is why I wanted to have this conversation over dinner where we could all stay calm and I could explain properly.”

“That-that’s not the point. I thought you were going to let the universe bring you someone special,” Maddie said, searching for a way to turn the conversation around.

“No, Maddie, that’s what you said, but I didn’t agree. I had already found my someone special. We just need to sit down and talk out how to work around our insecurities. I have a plan,” Buck stated calmly.

“And it includes going to Antarctica?” Maddie asked.

“Well, that’s where Tommy is at the moment.”

Maddie scoffed, crossing her arms, “So, you’re what, moving halfway around the world for a boy?!”

Buck tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at his sister in disbelief.

“Maddie, I’m not asking you what to do here, I’m letting you know what I have decided,” Buck insisted. Ok, this is what we are doing now. Awesome. “Look, I’m sorry that going to you every time I’m confused about things gave you the impression that I need you to tell me what to do before I make a move in my life. I do that because I want you to be part of my life. We lived apart for more than ten years before you came to LA. And I grew into an adult in that time. Sure, I made the sort of decisions that late teens, early twenties men make sometimes, but I made a life for myself without you. I just didn’t want it that way. I like talking out my problems with you, I just don’t like that it gives others the idea that I can’t make decisions without help from someone else. My brain works on a problem best by talking it out, I just happen to like talking it out with you. If I needed advice on how to deal with a relationship runner, I’d talk to Chimney.” Maddie gasps and sits down at the dining table, looking stricken.

Buck winced and attempted to redirect. “I’m not blaming you for it, we are past that. It’s just the different ways we deal with anxiety. And I know you are working on it in therapy, I can see how well you and Chim are doing, but can you honestly say that every bump in the road doesn’t send your brain for a millisecond into run mode?” He asked and reached across the table for Maddie’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

Maddie slumped down to rest her head on her arm on the table and sighed, “No, I can’t. So what do you need my help with?”

Buck smiled softly at his sister, “I just need your support. I’m trying something new with my life. This may grow into an amazing opportunity for my professional life as well as a way to get my personal life back on track. I made friends in all those years of wandering around, taking odd jobs and learning new things. I have contacts that I can call for information or advice. It wasn’t all partying and sex, you know.” Maddie turned her head to face Buck with a skeptical look on her face and a badly hidden smirk.

Buck huffed and rolled his eyes, “Well, ok, there was plenty of partying and sex but wait, so, I worked as a bartender in Virginia Beach, got my mixology certification. Uh, I worked construction in NOLA, learned a ton about remodelling old houses. Then, there was Montana, where I worked as a ranch hand, learned about horses and how to lasso a calf, but I also trained to do SAR work in the mountains. I went to Coronado and did the SEAL trails where I learned how hard I could push my body and how to handle a weapon. That didn’t work out, I didn’t have the right mindset for that kind of life, so I headed south and ended up in Peru bartending again, while also volunteering for SAR work. After about a year, I followed some guys that were going to share a house here in LA. I had seen a movie about firefighters one weekend and decided that firefighting could be what I was looking for, so I decided to join the academy. That’s the highlights, anyway,” Buck finished his speech with a wave of his hand and a shrug.

“Why didn’t you tell me about any of this before?” Maddie asked, sitting up to give him her full attention.

“No one asked.” Buck shrugged, “I know we talk, but when you first got here, I was afraid to say anything to upset you so you wouldn’t leave again and you needed me to need you. Then after a while….” Buck trailed off.

“No one asked,” they finished together.

Maddie sighed, “Here’s something I can give you.” She visually braced herself, “He’s going to have a hundred reasons why he did the right thing. Reasons why he’s not right for you. That you deserve better. He’ll sound completely reasonable, logical even. But, he’s not afraid that he’s not good enough. He’s afraid that someday you will realize that you can do better. And that you’ll want to. That you will think he’s not good enough. So, he convinces himself that this way is better. But, he was already too far in at the first sign of cracks on the surface. You get to be happy. He doesn’t deserve it, but you do. And that’s all that matters in the end.”

“Fuck,” Buck rasped.

Maddie pushed on, voice strained, “You have to convince him that you are aware of the risks. That you know what you are getting into. That you know very well about his flaws and various neuroses. But, you want to put in the work. That you are going to put in the work. That your future doesn’t work without him in it, so he’s just gonna have to deal with that. But, if that all fails, promise me little brother, if he can’t love you back, if he’s too far gone to come back, don’t bury yourself with him. You know him better than I do, better than Howie and Hen. You’ll know if putting in the work will get you what you want.”

Buck stared at his sister, wide-eyed, “Wow. Therapy is really working for you.” Maddie huffed a laugh and wiped tears from under her eyes. “Thanks,” Buck said sincerely.

Maddie giggled softly, “For what? Spewing my therapy notes all over you?”

“No,” Buck said. “For giving me advice on how to love a runner.” They both sniffed back tears and stood to hug it out. “Wait. Why did you come over, anyway?” Buck asked.

Maddie laughed a little manically, “I’m craving. I really need one of your lemon loaves.”

*******************************************

[email protected]

To: [email protected]

Buck,

The good news is that your Tommy seems to be pretty cool under pressure. The bad news is that the pressure was Jack. 😬I should have insisted that John go. In fact, when Jack came back to the mountain with Daniel still yelling at him, I asked John to go make the actual job offer. Let the flyboys bond over the quiet of Antarctica in a helicopter. I’m afraid that Jack jumped ahead with some of the classified stuff, so hold off on contacting him just yet. You’ll get your chance soon, I promise. Daniel did say that Tommy was worried about how Jack knew of you, and I can see from your last message that you’re worried about him, too. I think he and John will have a good talk.

On to the fun stuff! Clothes wise, bring an assortment of casual clothes for all types of weather, BDU’s will be provided for anything on duty. The base is on the ocean, so anything you need for recreation on the water, bring it, there are usually surfboards to borrow. As far as personal electronics go, you are welcome to bring what you want but your phone won’t work once you get there. Someone will be sent to pick you up from the airport, I don’t know yet who.

I’m really looking forward to seeing you in person again, Buck. I really think you will like it here.

There’s nothing quite like it on earth, and I think you’ll fit right in. See you Monday!

Dave

Tags for those who asked: @eliotwaughdeservesbetter @grimmsdead @anangrylittlehobbit

#bucktommy goes to the pegasus galaxy fic #bucktommy #911 abc #tevan #evan buckley #bucktommy fic #911 fic #eddie diaz #maddie han #writing #stargate atlantis #stargate sg 1 #crossover fic

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petz5 · 3 months ago

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☕ fanfiction

literally was at work for 12 yrs and so fucking busy that i forgot to answer this and my phone only fell to 78% OOPSIE

I simultaneously think fanfic is fun and people should write even if its silly or bad........... and i am a huge hater and extremely picky when i am the reader 💀 you have the right to interpret a character however u want and i have the right to think it sucks ass and balls

#there are so many fics i mostly like but a minor detail or two make me so MAD #first one that springs to mind is a very cute and in character one abt post canon rankane #that was great up until the final chapter #when ranma tells her he thinks he might have a crush on her #i was like H U H ????????#what do you fucking Mean.#too many people think ranma genuinely doesnt know he has feelings for her #meanwhile im over here like not only does he know but he also absolutely knows she loves him too #hes stupid and irrationally afraid abt admitting it but when push comes to shove ranma WILL admit she's his girlfriend

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youkaigakkou-tl · 1 year ago

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Chapter 108 - Meiji Romance (Part 7)

HAPPY ANIME ANNOUNCEMENT IF U HAVENT HEARD!!! 🎉🎉🎉

We finally get the fiance's name...!

Color page next month too!

(Also on mangadex)

#youkai gakkou no sensei hajimemashita #a terrified teacher at ghoul school #translations #main story #yeah i gave up on cleaning the color spread. had to if i wanted to get this out anytime this decade #gotta wait until vol 17 for the clean version of it or if i feel up to it sometime #might write another tl note finally i think theres enough material in the last 6 chapters to talk about #also i think i did a great job on my mangadex credits page this time u should go look at it

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acourtofquestions · 3 months ago

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Kingdom of Ash Chapters 46-47

He didn't see Lysandra. Aelin made no appearances, either.

The queen had abandoned them, the soldiers muttered Aedion made sure to shut down the talk. Had snarled that the queen had her own mission to save their asses, and if she wanted Erawan to know about it, she would have announced it to them all, since they were so inclined to gossip. It eased the discontent-barely.

Aelin had not defended them with her fire, had left them to be butchered.

The Bane began striking their swords against their shields. A steady heartbeat to override the vibrations of the Morath soldiers marching toward them.

He had not prepared a speech to rally them. A speech would not keep these men from dying today.

So Aedion drew the Sword of Orynth, hefted his shield, and joined the Bane's steady beat. Conveying all the defiance and rage in his heart, he clashed the ancient sword against the dented, round metal. Rhoe's shield. Aedion had never told Aelin. Had wanted to wait until they returned to Orynth to reveal that the shield he'd carried, had never lost, had belonged to her father. And so many others before that. It had no name. Even Rhoe had not known its age. And when Aedion had spirited it away from Rhoe's room, the only thing he grabbed when the news came that his family had been butchered, he had let the others forget about it, too. Even Darrow had not recognized it. Worn and simple, the shield had gone unnoticed at Aedion's side, a reminder of what he'd lost. What he'd defend to his final breath.

Chaos reigned.

Aedion roared from somewhere, from the heart of hell, "Re-form the lines!" The order went ignored.

The Bane tried and failed to hold the line.

Ansel of Briarcliff bellowed to her fleeing men to get back to the front, Galan Ashryver echoing her commands to his own soldiers. Ren shouted to his archers to remain, but they too abandoned their posts.

Lysandra slashed through the shins of one Morath soldier, then ripped the throat from another. None of Terrasen's warriors remained a step behind her to decapitate the fallen bodies.

No one at all.

Over. It was over.

Useless, Aedion had called her.

Lysandra gazed toward the ilken feasting on the right flank and knew what she had to do.

The queen has come. The queen is at the front line.

For a foolish heartbeat, he scanned the sky for a blast of flame.

None came.

Dread settled into his heart, fear deeper than any he'd known.

The queen is at the front line—at the right flank.

Lysandra.

Lysandra had taken on Aelin's skin.

He whirled toward the nonexistent right flank.

Just as the golden-haired queen in borrowed armor faced two ilken, a sword and shield in her hands.

No.

The word was a punch through his body, greater than any blow he'd felt.

Aedion began running, shoving through his own men. Toward the too-distant right flank. Toward the shape-shifter facing those ilken, no claws or fangs or anything to defend her beyond that sword and shield.

No.

He pushed men out of the way, the snow and mud hindering each step as the two ilken pressed closer to the shifter-queen.

Savoring the kill.

But the soldiers slowed their fleeing. Some even re-formed the lines when the call went out again. The queen is here. The queen fights at the front line.

Exactly why she had done it. Why she had donned the defenseless, human form.

No.

The ilken towered over her, grinning with their horrible, mangled faces.

Too far. He was still too damn far to do anything—One of the ilken slashed with a long, clawed arm.

Her scream as poisoned talons ripped through her thigh sounded above the din of battle.

She went down, shield rising to cover herself.

He took it back.

He took back everything he had said to her, every moment of anger in his heart.

Aedion shoved through his own men, unable to breathe, to think.

He took it back; he hadn't meant a word of it, not really.

Lysandra tried to rise on her injured leg. The ilken laughed.

"Please," Aedion bellowed. The word was devoured by the screams of the dying. "Please!" He'd make any bargain, he'd sell his soul to the dark god, if they spared her.

He hadn't meant it. He took it back, all those words.

Useless. He'd called her useless. Had thrown her into the snow naked.

He took it back.

Aedion sobbed, flinging himself toward her as Lysandra tried again to rise, using her shield to balance her weight.

Men rallied behind her, waiting to see what the Fire-Bringer would do. How she'd burn the ilken. There was nothing to see, nothing to witness. Nothing at all, but her death.

Yet Lysandra rose, Aelin's golden hair falling in her face as she hefted her shield and pointed the sword between her and the ilken. The queen has come; the queen fights alone. Men ran back to the front line. Turned on their heels and raced for her.

Lysandra held her sword steady, kept it pointed at the ilken in defiance and rage. Ready for the death soon to come.

She had been willing to give it up from the start. Had agreed to Aelin's plans, knowing it might come to this. One shift, one change into a wyvern's form, and she'd destroy the ilken. But she remained in Aelin's body. Held that sword, her only weapon, upraised. Terrasen was her home. And Aelin her queen. She'd die to keep this army together. To keep the lines from breaking. To rally their soldiers one last time.

Her leg leaked blood onto the snow, and the two ilken sniffed, laughing again. They knew— what lurked under her skin. That it was not the queen they faced. She held her ground. Did not yield one inch to the ilken, who advanced another step.

For Terrasen, she would do this. For Aelin.

He took it back. He took it all back.

Aedion was barely a hundred feet away when the ilken struck. He screamed as the one on the left swept with its claws, the other on the right lunging for her, as if it would tackle her to the snow.

Lysandra deflected the blow to the left with her shield, sending the ilken sprawling, and with a roar, slashed upward with her sword on the right. Ripping open the lunging ilken from navel to sternum. Black blood gushed, and the ilken shrieked, loud enough to set Aedion's ears ringing. But it stumbled, falling into the snow, scrambling back as it clutched its opened belly. Aedion ran harder, now thirty feet away, the space between them clear. The ilken who'd gone sprawling on the left was not done. Lysandra's eye on the one retreating, it lashed for her legs again.

Aedion threw the Sword of Orynth with everything left in him as Lysandra twisted toward the attacking ilken. She began falling back, shield lifting in her only defense, still too slow to escape those reaching claws. The poison-slick tips brushed her legs just as his sword went through the beast's skull. Lysandra hit the snow, shouting in pain, and Aedion was there, heaving her up, yanking his sword from the ilken's head and bringing it down upon the sinewy neck. Once. Twice.

The ilken's head tumbled into the snow and mud, the other beast instantly swallowed by the Morath soldiers who had paused to watch. Who now looked upon the queen and her general and charged.

Only to be met by a surge of Terrasen soldiers racing past Aedion and Lysandra, battle cries shattering from their throats.

Aedion half-dragged the shifter deeper behind the re-formed lines, through the soldiers who had rallied to their queen. He had to get the poison out, had to find a healer who could extract it immediately. Only a few minutes remained until it reached her heart. Perhaps the gods had listened. Perhaps it was their idea of mercy: that the ilken's poison had worn off on other victims before it'd gotten to her.

Aedion scanned the regrouping army for any hint of the healers' white banners over their helmets. None. He whirled toward the front lines. Perhaps there was a Fae warrior skilled enough at healing, with enough magic left—Aedion halted. Beheld what broke over the horizon.

Ironteeth witches.

A witch tower.

Oh gods.

"Fall back!" Aedion screamed, even while his men continued to rally. "FALL BACK." Aedion whirled and began running, carrying the shifter with him. "FALL BACK!"

The army beheld what approached. Whether they realized it was no siege tower, they understood his order clearly enough. Saw him sprinting, Aelin over his shoulder.

There was nowhere to hide on the field. No dips in the earth where he might throw himself and Lysandra, praying the blast went over them. Nothing but open snow and frantic soldiers.

"RETREAT!" Aedion's throat strained.

The Yielding.

The world shuddered.

Aedion threw Lysandra into the mud and snow and hurled himself over her, as if it would somehow spare her from the roaring force that erupted from the tower, right at their army.

One heartbeat, their left flank was fighting as they retreated once more.

The next, a wave of black-tinted light slammed into four thousand soldiers.

When it receded, there was only ash and dented metal.

#Chapter 46 #Chapter 47 #Lysandra Ennar #Aedion Ashryver #Kingdom of Ash #Sarah J. Maas #first read along with me NO SPOILERS PLEASE #spoilers in post and tags with more quotes notes reacts sorry tried google doc shorthand lol #Ineed you2stay sane&safe-this would make a great adaptation-this was war-the ghost leopard better get her title-no speech 2 save-he knew #shield4her-shed Bfire-shell burn the world-from the heart of hell-Hope ran-mayBthis fear-he gonna realize it when hes losing her dam-LYSDON #where has our queen gone-she knew what she had 2 do-their both remembering the same words-she became defenseless so they would Bbrave-2late #living Hope she rose like a queen-Shed been willing from the start-she would die 4 it1last time yes the witches-NO NO NO NOT OUR WITCHES RU #DO NOT FUCKING YIELDING-holy fuck this better not B4eshadowing shit-no2WERS-Nox returned W a few hundred even-less-trained warriors-No magi #wielders Im just happy every time its Nox-tearing their uprising should they learn the true Heir2Perranth had been held captive in the high #tower of the castle-puppet lordThe queen had abandoned them the soldiers mutteredAedion made sure2shut down the talk-Aedion had said #similiar thoughHell hedve wept2C Dorian Havilliard&his considerable power at that momentTHINGS ARE REALLY BAD-Lys remembered the girl but #their advantage lay in the frozen river not in letting themselves Bcornered 2 endure a slow deathCome ON SOMEONEThe Bane beganAspeech would #keep these men from dying 2dayRhoes shield never had a chance2tell Aelinthe beat2hide the fear Worn&simpleshield had gone unnoticed@Aedions #side a reminder of what hed lostWhat hed defend 2 his final breathChaos reignedAedion roared from somewhere from the heart of hellRe4m the #linesThey never s2pped fightingthe right the leftNo one at alluvrIt was overUseless Aedion had called herLysandra gazed 2ward the ilken&kne #what2doAedion imagined theyd all Bkilled where they s2od battling 2gether until the endNot picked off1by1as they fled-disgrace unworthyThe #The queen has comeThe queen is at the front line4a foolish heartbeat he scanned the sky 4 a blast of flameDread settled in2 his heart-fear #deeper than any hed knownThe queen is at the front line at the right flankLysandraNoThe word was a punch through his body greater than any #blow hed feltNoExactly why shed done4the front lineHe 2ok it back she went down shield rising2cover herselfHe 2ok back everything hed said2 #her every moment of anger in his heartPleaseHed make any bargain hed sell his soul2the dark god if they spared herHe hadnt meant itThere wa #2wnothing2CnothingitnessNothing at all but her death. Yet Lysandra roseShed been willing2give it up from the startHad agreed2Aelins plans #knowing it might come2thisBut she remained in Aelins bodyHeld that sword her only weapon upraisedTerrasen was her home&Aelin herQueen shed #die 2keep the army 2getherThat it was not the queen they facedShe held her groundDid not yield1inch4Terrasen she would do this4AelinHe 2ok #it back Perhaps the gods had listenedPerhaps it was their idea of mercyAedion whirled&began running carrying the shifter W him-FALL BACK!TH #TOWER RETREAT-Yielding-TheWorld shuddered-Aedion hurled himself over her-as if 2 somehow spare her-nothing but ash

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astranauticus · 8 months ago

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im gonna finish this orv animatic if it fuckin kills me (it will probably kill me)

#asto speaks #had a bit of a panic last night bc i havent been catching up with the webtoon for a while and i didnt realise what part its at rn #cuz like the animatic goes up until chapt 188 so i wanted to post it ard the time that chapter gets adapted in the webtoon #but uh yeah i am. very not done!#i redid my math and i think i have about... a bit over a month..?#so. more than i thought i had last night when i was freaking the fuck out about it. but not great.#oh well. boss makes a dollar i make a dime thats why i'll be crunching animatic frames on company time :thumbsup:#ok but for what its worth like for the past few days i was just bouncing between wips bc i kinda wanted to work on #everything and nothing at once so if nothing else at least the deadline anxiety got me to finally FOCUS AKJFHDLJKASHF

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luludeluluramblings · 3 months ago

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tbh I’m more intrigued by the idea of college-age Reader getting pregnant while unmarried still living in the manor and NO ONE has any idea who the father is (maybe she does, but she’s withholding that for now or maybe he’s not in the picture?) and it’s the biggest freak out ever. that just seems so fucking wild and potentially hilarious to me. and nobody noticing she’s pregnant until she’s farther along? or them finding out randomly?? imagine:

damian: you look pregnant. what is wrong with you.

reader: i am pregnant though

the batfam: ????????!!!!!!!!!! and then she proposes that now that she’s old enough and starting a new chapter in her life raising a baby and all she should just move out! (cue everyone disliked that meme)

Neglected!Pregnant!Reader x Yandere!Bat Family

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Okay, I think I'm about to become a Pregnancy!Reader writer. Which, I'm not mad about. Kind think it would be fun, but I know the trope isn't for everyone. So, if it’s not your thing, I’m sorry.

A/N: Some of this is based off of things from my own pregnancies.

A/N: Oh, no. Frick, I wanna make this a series now. Check the bottom, cause I have a plot idea for this and I want opinions on it. I spiraled, this was supposed to be a quick blurb. I got carried away. Gonna build up to the yandere shenanigans because I’m turning into a writer with a million WIPs.

A/N: Tagging @skay-ali because I like their The Forgotten Daughter series.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Very minor Yandere Themes (like barely there), minor NSFW, graphic descriptions of pregnancy and medical procedures, Vomiting.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You don't really remember that night it happened. But, it only happened once and after you swore you'd never drink again. The hangover after that night had been one of the worst of your short life.

In fact, the sticky feeling between your legs and bitter taste on your tongue had also added to your decision to swear of these college parties. Luckily, you have enough of your memory to remember that you and your partner from that night had both been willing even when wasted. Even if you couldn't remember their name. Or, their face.

It takes you a while to notice. One missed cycle wasn't anything to freak out about, and it was exam season. The stress had probably caused the nausea. It wasn't until you were heading down to breakfast one morning and smelled the burnt eggs in the kitchen that Stephanie had burnt that you realized something might be wrong.

You, of course, ignore it. It was just a fluke. Burnt eggs weren't appetizing to anyone. But, then you nearly faint walking through the perfume section after looking to restock your favorite bottle of scent.

The doctor you finally went to another week later had asked about your cycle and the last time you had been intimate with someone. That's when the reality of things started to set in. You hadn't even thought to do an at home test to check. Your doctor was kind though, saying they could just do a quick urine sample and blood test just to make sure. It might be something else.

The next few minutes felt like ages. But, when the Doctor came back to tell you the positive results you panicked. Not as in panicked as in you broke down, but you threw up a mask. You're good at doing that. You must get it from your father.

When she asks you if this is good news or bad news you can't help, but blurt that it's good. Great even. Which causes her to beam at you. Before you know it, you're being handed a complementary diaper bag with formula and tiny bottles while being given the rundown on your possible due date and future appointments. You nodded you're head along with the information, sliding the paper's into the diaper bag as she hands them to you.

But, then she turns to you with delight and tells you that the Ultra Sound tech has an opening and you're just far along enough they can do your first ultrasound. It'll only be a thirty minute wait.

After nodding along once more, you go back into the waiting room. Holding your new bag with white knuckles and falling into deep thought.

This is happening. But, how? Are you even fit to be a parent? You've hardly ever been loved. How are you going to love someone else? How are you going to do this? What will the family think? What will your few friends think? You don't even remember who their father is. This is impossible. You're not ready. You'll never be ready. That churning feeling is in your stomach again and you feel that single piece of toast you had for breakfast about to come back up.

The thirty minutes fly by with those thoughts in your head. They still swirl in your head as your go back into the ultrasound room.

It's dark, but the tech had few soft lights on in the room. Its actually kind of... cozy.

What's not cozy it the tech telling you that she's going to stick a wand up your bits so you could see the baby. Your eyes screwing shut at the cold invasive feeling.

But, when you open them, she turns the screen for you to see. It's almost amazing how fast the image appears on the screen.

And, their moving. Actually moving. You end up laughing at the sight, causing the screen to flicker and the little blob to move. When the nurse plays the heart beat you can feel yours stuttering in your chest.

Watching them bounce in there with each laugh, it’s easy for the next words to spill out of your mouth.

“Oh, I’m gonna love you.”

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Every step after that feels remarkably less lonely. It’s not just you anymore. You have someone who you’re going to love.

You don’t bother telling the Family. Bruce would just lecture you on being reckless while the other’s would judge you for it.

Honestly, you don’t care if they did. This is your baby.

Funnily enough, for a house full of detectives and highly intelligent vigilantes no one actually notices. Not even Cassandra. It’s a bit insulting how much they don’t pay attention. But, your symptoms soon make it so you don’t care.

The waves of exhaustion, the way everything smells strong and certain things make you want to gag. Heartburn that burns your throat. The subtle cravings that make you cry when you can’t fulfill them. Thankfully you finished your exams because you were too tired to even move from your bed most mornings due to strange nightmares.

Eventually, someone does notice. And, it’s not anyone you would expect.

Of all things you cried over on the pantry floor, it had to be salt and vinegar chips. They hadn’t been what you wanted, but it was too late to go get french fries and a smoothie at this hour in Gotham. And, you stuffed them down your throat with angry tears.

It was Stephanie of all people to find you. You gave her a sharp glare when she seemed to grow wide eyed. Normally you avoid her gaze, but you were quite pissed about having chips in your mouth and not fries. As her eyes grew wider, your nose wrinkled in further annoyance at her.

Just as you’re about to tell her off, she speaks.

“Do you— um, want something else?”

It’s pitiful how fast your snarl turns into a pleading pout.

“Yes, please. I want fries. I want Jokerized fries so badly.” You practically blubber when she gives you a pointed nod towards the car garage.

It takes you a bit to get off the floor despite the fact that your bump is hardly noticeable, but Stephanie noticed the extremely subtle curve.

“How far?” She asks hesitantly, looking from the bump to your face.

You also hesitant for a moment, looking up at her with tears on your cheeks and a serious look in your eyes. “14 Weeks.”

Her eyebrows raise and a wiry pout appears on her face. “Damn. You’re smaller than I was at that time, so not fair.”

The slightly surprised that information gives you almost makes you pause. But, if you had you would’ve probably toppled back down to the pantry floor.

“Explain on the way?” You ask, still a bit nervous. The two of you had never been close since you moved into the manor less than a handful of years back.

“Sure.” She grins, leading the way.

As you both walk, she whispers. “Does Bruce know?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

“Ah.” Stephanie managed to hide the winces from you.

When you two finally make into the car, you’re already feeling better about life. You’re about to have your fries, and possibly a shake too. You didn’t expect to have any company, but surprisingly it’s nice.

Stephanie drives, and get the fries to go. Munching on them as Stephanie drives you back to the manor. Her sharing her own pregnancy experience.

"Wait, so Tim dated you when you were pregnant with another dudes kid? Babe, forget being me being small, you got game."

"Damn right I do." She says smugly, stuffing her own fries in her mouth. "So, um, do you wanna talk about what happened with you?"

And, just like that your mood shifts.

"No."

"Oh- Oh! I'm sorr-" She starts up, and you can tell she's assuming the worst.

"Don't you start, Stephanie." You interrupt with a pointed glare. "I don't want to talk about it because it's none of y'all's business."

That makes her cough on her french fry. "Wait, wait, what do you mean? Don't you want help?"

"Nah, I got it." Comes your stubborn reply, glaring out the window as you dip your fry into the cheesecake milkshake.

"... You should tell Bruce." She suggest after a moment of awkward silence.

"What? So he can ignore his grandchild, too?" Your filter is none existent with your hormones all out of wack.

"He doesn't ignore you-"

"Oh, yes the fuck he does." Your firmly state. Growing a bit heated. "Y'all all figgin do."

Stephanie is about to roll her eyes, chalking your words to you just being unreasonable. But, then the thought starts to creep upon her with each passing building when she realizes this is the first time she's actually hung out with you. Ever.

"I'm sorry." She murmurs to you. The silence falling over you both as the cars continues back to the manor.

"... I'm only forgiving you because you bought my fries..."

"Really?! That's all I had to do?"

"What? I was desperate for this- Wait! Hang on. Stop the car. Stop the car-"

"What? Why?! Are you- OH! Fuck!"

You ended up regurgitating up all the fries you had just eaten. Right into your lap.

"Oooo, that's nasty." Stephanie says, cracking the windows.

"Is it bad that I still want to eat them?" You mumble to her, eyeing the remaining fries.

"Please, please, wait till we get back or I'm gonna hurl, too."

"Fine." Comes your reply. Your eyes drifting shut for a moment. "If you tell anyone I'm gonna tell Cassandra about your crush on her."

"How did you- Frick, you are more like Bruce then I realize." Her voice going from panic to begrudging realization.

"Now, that's offenseive."

"Oh, come on. You're kids gonna have some of Bruce's DNA too."

"Eww. Eww. Don't remind me."

The banter between you both coming back with ease.

When you make it back to the manor, parting ways for the night. You feel at ease. You may have made have finally made a new friend in all this and gained a pillar of support.

As you shower and finish off your fries, you can't help but think about the apartments you had been looking at. Wondering what Stephanie will thinking of your nursery ideas.

Down in the cave, Stephanie slowly walks down the steps. Realizing this might have just gotten complicated.

"You okay, Steph?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Soooooo, what if, and hear me out, wee add some baby daddy drama to this?

A/N: Please note, I write a Reader that DID NOT grow up with the Bat Family, which means we could have some really really juicy drama here. But, we could just keep the options limited to just close friends of the Bat family.

A/N: What do y'all think? Baby Daddy drama? One of the Bat Boys the Daddy? One of the other vigilantes? Should I do a Baby Daddy poll? I just feel like this is an opportunity.

A/N: Also, Stephanie was a teen mom in some comics from my research. Which I think adds to this and gives her a better chance of bonding with Reader until shit goes down.

#yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #platonic batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #anon ask #answered asks #pregnant!reader

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juletheghoul · 3 months ago

Text

ache

a/n: another dope, unhinged request that sent me clean into the sun. I will have girl reciprocate in another chapter! Thanks so much for loving my version of Marcus, hopefully you like where this is going. This is un-beta'd, barely edited. All mistakes and errors are mine! Hope you enjoy what I came up with! (this is before chapter IX)

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus' pov, Marcus makes girlie squirt, *feelings*, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus - let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 1.6k (😅)

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series masterlist

----

He’d been away from his home for longer than he wished to be. Away from her.

He’d been resigned to be gone for two days, three if he was being generous. That was the time he’d been prepared to spare. Those three days had stretched to three weeks.

An endless parade of niceties and feasts and courtesies extended. His presence was essential it seemed, and so he’d had to grit and bear it. He’d slept in those foreign beds and craved her warmth, her smell and her touch so much so that a rage filled him, a restlessness that only soured his mood more and more.

Had he not put his foot down he might have been gone from his house for three months instead of three weeks. He’d fought wars quicker than this.

Only when he was on his journey back home, back to her did the smile return to his face. Only waning when his journey had taken longer than expected, and by the time he’d finally stepped foot inside his house the moon was high, and she was sleeping peacefully in her bed. He’d watched her for a time from her doorway, almost willing her to sense him and wake. She didn’t, and he didn’t have the heart to disturb her, so he retreated back to his chambers and fell into a fitful sleep.

Even in his dreams, she haunted him. He could smell her, feel the warm clutch of her cunt around his cock, hear her passion in his ear. He could taste her lips, could feel himself spilling inside her.

He woke with a gasp, cock aching, heart racing and sweat beading on his brow. The moon was still bright, and the hour late, or early, he could not tell. The only thing he knew for certain was that if he didn’t go to her now, he’d die.

The heavy blanket of sleep shifts to gossamer, fine as silk. The dream, so clear just a moment ago slips away, forgotten as your room comes back into focus. A heavy weight presses beside you, a soft caress pulls you further into wakefulness. Too tired to be scared, you turn towards the feeling, the soft press of familiar lips at your shoulder and are both startled, and delighted to see your Dominus in bed with you. He’d been gone so long, you almost wept to be within his embrace once more.

“Dominus, you’re home.” It’s not a question, more a sleepy, contented statement.

“Yes, Girl, I am at last home.” You press closer, heart swelling that he would crawl into your bed with you. His passion so great, it pressed hot and hard against your belly. “I dreamt about you Girl, could not wait until morning.” His hands roamed, sweeping from your back down to grab at your ass, pulling you ever closer in the quiet dark of your chamber.

“You dreamt about me Dominus?” You smiled into the warm skin of his neck, butterflies swarming in your belly at his confession.

“Yes Girl, I was hoping you would be awake when I got home, I wanted you so bad I ached but you were asleep and I couldn’t bring myself to wake you. I found no peace in sleep, even in my dreams I craved you.” His lips descend, soft and so welcome where they meet yours, his tongue insistent. “Did you miss me Girl?” He shifts, pushing you onto your back and fitting himself between your thighs. the heft of him makes your cunt turn to liquid. The absence of him these three long weeks had been difficult, so accustomed had you become to him taking you that feeling him now could have made you weep with joy.

“Yes Dominus, I have been so empty without you, I have missed the feel of you here–” You reach down and grasp him in hand, delighting in the gasp he breathes into your face and guide him into your soaked cunt. “I missed you here Dominus, needed you here desperately. I have gone without your gift for so long.”

His forehead is pressed to yours, your legs bent and high on his ribs while you both catch your breath. Your heart races as he adjusts and rests on his arms, bracketed around your skull. Your nipples harden against his chest as he presses soft kisses to your face, your cunt leaks when he starts to move, a slow, but heavy thrust. His cock is so stiff, so filling that it takes a moment for you to adjust, for that stretching burn to subside.

The moans slip out with every push and pull of his hips into yours and when you move your legs a little higher and tilt your hips he hits something divine. His cock pressing against an undiscovered, almost forbidden part of you with every roll of his hips.

“Is that where you like it?” He keeps his stroke steady, hitting the spot he knows he’s found and you can barely form a thought, all you can focus on is the fullness, on the delicious feeling in your hips, in the deepest part of you. “Answer me Girl, did you miss me fucking you?” He doesn’t speed up, only thrusts harder.

“Yes Dominus, yes, I missed it so much–” He moans and it heightens the pleasure building in your core, in the base of your spine. His tongue is obscene in your mouth, your hands clutch at him, moving from where they clawed at his back up to curl into his waves, gripping at him like talons.

His pace picks up, faster, harder and the feeling grows, something heavy, something altogether too big building unlike anything you've ever felt before. Big enough to almost frighten you. You pull away from his kiss, frantic to warn him.

“Dominus, wait–something–God’s above–” You moan out because he doesn’t stop, he only shifts cat-quick to push at the back of your thigh up towards your chest, opening you up wider and hitting at that same spot harder.

It’s so loud, the wet plunge of him into the cunt he owns, the cunt that weeps and gapes for him and him alone. Your heart races, sweat beads at your hairline and his, the sound of the bed rocking with his movements; all of it ignored and unimportant compared to the feeling.

“Dominus–” your eyes drift down to where he fucks into you, hands pressing at his chest as the crushing wave inside finally crests.

Your body pushes him out with a wet gush and a scream. Your hands claw at him, your body bows almost on its own as you soak him in your climax. He doesn’t stop, instead he holds you down, his strength showing it’s face as he fucks you through the strongest climax of your life.

“That’s it Girl, take it, take my cock, and my gift.” He groans it, filling you to the brim despite your inability to do anything but lay there under him, soul outside your body, and shake with the force of the pleasure he’d given you.

He smiles as he cleans himself after, moving to you to wipe down the mess he’d made of your sex.

Your legs still shake.

“I had heard rumours in my youth that if you were skilled enough, you could pleasure a woman enough to make her burst like a fountain.” He has a smugness about him as he presses the damp cloth to your skin. You are silent still, shocked at the way he’d made you feel, at what he’d made your body do. “You are the first to prove them right. Have you ever done that before, Girl? Has any other man ever made you do that?”

“No Dominus, I have never felt anything like that before.” A shyness creeps in, a vulnerability you don’t know how to express. Your eyes cannot quite meet his and despite the pride you can see in him, he senses it.

“Did you enjoy it? I do not want to chase that again if you did not enjoy it.” He tosses the rag back into your basin, and slips into your bed with you, gathering you into his arms. You are grateful to feel his warmth, to have the comfort of his embrace.

“I did Dominus, I enjoyed it immensely, I am just–I–I,” You stutter, unsure how to explain how you feel and the curiously emotional response that amount of pleasure has borne in you.

“What is it Girl, tell me. I wish to understand.” He pulls you into the crook of his neck, his hands rubbing at your back.

“I do not know Dominus, It is strange. The pleasure was great, greater than any other time we have lain together but it is so much more. It is as though now I am tied to you, I cannot get close enough. If you leave me here now, in this bed I shall die without you.” A shyness creeps in and warms your face, an embarrassment at the intense need you have for him now. So much more than when you are aroused.

“I will not leave you, Girl. I would never leave you. I must confess, seeing how much you enjoyed that changed me as well.” He pulls your sheet up, tucking the both of you in for what is left of the night. “There is an intense pride in me now, that I could be the one to make you feel that good.”

“You always make me feel good, Dominus.” You press your lips to his neck, rubbing at his chest while you make yourself comfortable in his embrace.

“As do you, Girl. I was a mess while away from this house, away from you.” You smile into his neck before moving up to press your lips to his. There is no more need for words after that, instead you both fall into an easy rhythm of soft kisses, and gentle sweeps of your palms. A reacquainting of yourselves with one another, as though it’s been years since your last meeting instead of less than a moon’s turn.

In the safety of the dark, it was okay. The lines of your roles could be blurred, you could kiss him as often as you pleased, you could press yourself closer, and speak words of devotion without fear. You could ignore that this was a slaves bed and not his place.

When morning came, you would wake alone and serve once more, but here, in the dark; that could wait.

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus acacius #marcus acacius x you #general marcus acacius #general acacius #marcus acacius smut #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x female reader #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #the general

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cutebat · 6 months ago

Text

Yandere Batfam x Neglected, but Defiant Reader

The First Page

Warning(s): Neglect, emotional abuse, physical abuse, mind break (There are no yandere themes yet, but will be in another chapter)

(This chapter is basically the first part of the prologue and some things fixed)

~~~~~

10 years old.

You were only 10 years old when the Gotham's billionaire, Bruce Wayne, entered through the doors of the orphanage that you lived under of.

You could remember the owner holding your hand as she lead you to the man who is going to be your father.

You remember when he placed his hand on your head as he introduced himself to you and promised that he'll give you a great life.

You remember when you came to the manor as he introduced you to your new family that consists of four new older brothers, one new older sister, and a butler.

You remember when everyone would talk to you and welcome you with loving embraces.

You also remember a few days foward when Bruce gave you a costume that resembled a white dress with pink details, which earned you the title of Batgirl.

And after all of that, it's like it never happened.

~~~~~

You are now being ignored by everyone.

Nobody gave you a glance, made excuses, and basically beat the shit out of you. Well, not exactly.

For example, there was one day when you came up to Bruce with a flyer in your hand.

"Um, hi, Bruce... I know you're busy right now, but... I'm going to have a school play and I got the main role. So... I hope you can stop by and watch."

You tell him in the nicest way possible.

However, Bruce was so focused on his paperwork that he didn't give you a glance. All he said was...

"Hm? Yeah, I'll go check it out if I finish all of this."

And suprise, suprise, he never showed up.

This resulted in you crying in the girl's restroom all alone in your costume.

~~~~~

There was also a time when you felt like you needed to train more, so you did it by going up to Dick who seems to be training with Damian.

"Um, guys? Can I join you two?"

You ask as you smile awkwardly as your two older brothers turned to you.

Which is why you became surprised when Dick smiles.

"Sure! But, do you mind if you wait until me and Damian are done with this sparring session? It won't take too long."

He said with a chuckle as Damian looked like he was glaring at his little sister.

You didn't want to be rude, which is why you just nodded before you went over to the corner and watched your brothers train.

As an hour passed, Dick and Damian stopped, which made you take the chance to finally train with them.

However, you seemed confused when you saw the two turning around and walking out of the batcave.

"He-Hey, Dick? I thought you and Damian were going to train with me."

You speak up in a timid tone, which the two clearly heard.

"Oh, about that. Sorry, (name), but we were already planning to go to the cafe for a break. Maybe tomorrow, okay?"

Dick said with an 'apologetic' expression before he leaves with Damian.

Because of this, you never asked him to train with you again.

~~~~~

These were all easily common, but there were some moments when it scarred you.

One time, Tim was basically forced to bring you to a mission along with his friends.

As the patrol went on, you seemed to get distracted a bit when you spotted Conner having some trouble.

Because of this, you left the scene and quickly dived in and fought alongside the teenage Kryptonian. Thanks to you, everything was handled.

Conner thanked you before someone yelled out your name. This made you jolt as you turned to see an angry Tim storming over to you.

Before you can say anything, he cuts you in.

"What on earth were you doing?! I told you to stay where you are, and you just had to ignore everything I say, don't you?!"

He yells as if someone murdered his close family member.

This made you so shocked as Conner was stunned. When Cassie and Bart came over to the spot, they were both shocked to see their friend, yelling at his little sister.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Calm down, Tim. (name) didn't do anything wrong. I was the one who called her over to help me."

Conner defends you, but of course, Tim doesn't listen.

"Don't even try to defend her! She knows what she did! Oh, I am SO going to report this to Batman, so don't even try to cover yourself up!"

Tim said in a frustrated and angry tone towards you before he used his grappling hook and swooped down, leaving you behind with his friends.

"Hey, what the hell, asshole!"

Conner shouts out at his friend as he was shocked to him this angry.

He lets out a sigh before he looks over to see Cassie and Bart, comforting you as you are crying in their arms.

~~~~~

Yelling wasn't the only thing that you had to endure.

You even went through moments when things got a little too... physical.

It all happened when you were just trying to help someone in need.

You were walking down the hallway during the night as you just wanted a cup of water. As you were wandering down the hallway, you noticed some voices from someone's bedroom.

Jason's bedroom.

This made you curious as you got close to the door to hear Jason talking amongst himself as he sat on the edge of his bed.

He kept muttering stuff out of his mouth, which made you worried.

That is when you made a mistake by going inside.

"Jason...? Are you okay?"

You ask in a timid voice.

At that moment, Jason snaps his head towards you before everything starts to go blur. All you remember is him grabbing something like a pole type object before it was brought down towards your head.

And then, you woke up in your own bedroom, except you have a bandage wrapped around your head.

When you sat up, all you saw was Alfred, the family's loyal butler. No sign of your other family around, concerning about you.

Luckily, you recovered, and the wound went away after a month.

And, of course, Jason never apologized for what he did to you.

~~~~~

A few months was in, and no improvement has been made. You were always ignored. They made excuses of not wanting to spend time with you, and some of them actually hit you a few times.

All of that happened to your ten year old self.

But, did you give up on that spot? Nope.

You discovered on the internet what you can do to please your family to gain their attention. There were a lot of results, but the one that kept popping up the most was trying to reach your best achievements, which would result in them showing you more support from them.

And that's what you did.

You started to join in many after-school activities and studied all your might. It was tiring, and you almost passed out from exhaustion, but you kept going because you wanted at least your family to notice you.

The problem is that they never did.

They never congratulated you, celebrated on your accomplishment, and most of all, they didn't even give you a glance when you showed off.

All of that for nothing. Damn.

~~~~~

The breaking point wasn't because of all that. It was when someone else entered the family.

Duke Thomas.

A metahuman teenager whose parents died from the Joker Venom.

You thought that they might treat him the same way that they had treated you.

But, nothing.

Duke was showered with love, attention, and even praise.

The things that you never got when you came here.

Whenever you pass by whatever event that they're holding, you will always see them together. Being all happy, chatting, and laughing with one another.

They never do that when they're around you. Even on your birthdays. Actually, when was the last time they all celebrated your birthday?

At that moment, something inside you just snapped. Like, a loud crack echoes through your head that makes a loud ringing sound, kind of like a wake-up call.

Then, it all clicked.

They never cared about you.

They never even liked you.

The only reason why Bruce adopted you is because nobody wanted to.

~~~~~

The thoughts kept running through your head as you walked into an alleyway with a trash bag in hand.

Earlier today at school, you dropped out the clubs that you absolutely hated and pretty much just purposely laid back in your classes.

You feel empty.

When you finally reach the dumpster, you got on top of some stacked boxes because of your height and open the large lid.

You could only stare inside that had a lot of black colored trash bags. Your eyes were blank as you stared down inside.

That's when you muttered out.

"Why even bother...?"

With that, you tossed the trash bag that you were holding on into the dumpster.

After what it felt like hours, you finally got off of the boxes that you were standing on top of before you walked out of the alleyway.

As you walked away, something fell out of the trash bag that you threw out.

It was a white bat eared helmet.

The accessory that once matched with your costume.

That's right.

You were no longer Batgirl.

You never were, anyway.

•

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#yandere #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #batfam #batfamily #yandere x reader #yandere platonic #neglected reader #platonic #yandere dc

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soaps-mohawk · 8 months ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 20: The New Normal

Summary: Your pack settles into a routine as you learn to adapt to the shifting relationships between all of you.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Price x Gaz

Word Count:

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, p in v sex, unprotected sex, threesome, BDSM elements, dry humping, language, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, angst, PTSD, flashbacks, nightmares, smoking, Gaz being the prettiest boy alive.

A/N: Not much to say about this one. Hope it's worth a two week wait...

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

A yelp leaves your lips as your feet leave the ground, your body hitting the floor rather ungracefully. You roll from the force of the impact, stopping flat on your back. You stare up at the ceiling, trying to catch the breath that was forced from your lungs from your impact with the floor.

“You left yourself too open again.”

“Well how was I supposed to know which way you were moving?” You say, slowly pushing yourself back up to sit as you catch your breath.

“You can’t, that’s why you have to keep yourself guarded at all times. Anyone you’re fighting will do worse than that as soon as your guard is down.”

You stare at Simon’s shoes as he stops a foot away from you. The laces are pulled to the exact same tension on both sides, double knotted to avoid them coming undone and becoming a tripping hazard. Even the way his crew socks are pulled up over the legs of his sweatpants speaks volumes of how on guard he is. Always ready for a fight, always ready so that nothing can get in his way and put him at risk.

He lets out a quiet sigh as he drops down into a squat in front of you. “How have you been sleeping?”

Your gaze finally leaves his shoes, trailing up his legs to his arms where they rest on his knees. You follow the lines of his tattoos until you reach where his shirt sleeve covers the rest. You work your way up until you reach his mask-covered face, finally meeting his brown eyes. There's a softness to them now you've never noticed before, something you might not have taken notice of now had you not become brave enough to look that deep.

“Better,” You clear your throat, dropping your gaze to the mat. “But still not great.”

This morning had started with you shaking in Johnny's hold, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he whispered soft reassurances in your ear. The nightmares haven't gone away since your confession, nor have they even really lessened, but at least now you aren’t suffering alone when they wake you from your sleep. At least now your pack knows how to best comfort you when your mind insists on silently torturing you.

You still haven’t slept alone since they returned, nor have you spent any great length of time in your room. There’s still a lingering feeling of someone watching, of something staring at you from inside the walls. You’ve checked while they were at training for any cameras you might have missed, but you’ve come up empty handed. Maybe it was just the knowledge that your safe space had been invaded causing that paranoid itching in the back of your mind to linger. None of the guys have complained about you staying with them at night, though perhaps you have your confession about your nightmares to thank for that.

“The nightmares?” Ghost asks, snapping you from your thoughts.

You nod. “Yeah.”

The risk of them finding out about your nightmares has made you less afraid to sleep, but still the fear of what horrible scene your mind will come up with keeps you awake. You pull your knees to your chest, making yourself small as you sit in front of him. He’s just so big, so broad and bulky, truly the ideal specimen of a perfect alpha. He’s the kind of alpha your fellow omegas at the institute would whisper about. Some big, strong protector who would provide for them and keep them safe and satisfied.

If only they could see you now.

Despite the shift in your relationship with Simon, things haven’t changed much. He’s still the quiet, looming figure behind you, posing a silent threat to anyone who might think about approaching you. He still places a hand on your back to steer you, still stands closer behind you than he used to, still looks at you with a softer look in his eyes than you’ve ever seen before. Sometimes you’re tempted to push that boundary first, to lean in and rest your head on his broad chest, feel the muscle under his shirt again. You want to press up against his back while he sleeps and let his warmth seep into your bones. Sometimes when you’re alone and your thoughts begin to run rampant, you think about how you have nothing to fear because Simon would rip the face off anyone who tried anything.

Of course, he has to be here in order to do that.

You won’t have to be alone again. John had promised you that much. He’d fight harder to make sure you’re not alone again. Not, at least, for a while if it can be avoided.

“You’re thinking too much again.” Simon says, pulling you from your thoughts for a second time.

You stare at him, suddenly realizing he’s moved closer to you. You’re not sure when he did, too caught up in your own thoughts to be aware of your surroundings. It’s dangerous, your ability to sink into your mind and get lost there. You know it and they know it. Yet you can’t help it. It’s safer in your head, easier to exist in a place where you’re in control, where you can predict what’s going to happen next.

Simon’s hand wraps around your ankle, tugging you closer to him. You fall flat on your back on the mat, body sliding partially under his. He looms over you, settling his weight across your thighs as his hands come to rest on either side of your head. Your eyes are wide as you stare up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, as it usually does when you’re in this position.

“Now, what do you do when someone pins you?” He asks, the sharpness back in his gaze as he stares down at you.

Lay here and don’t move, or at least that’s what you want to do currently. He’s just so big and warm, and the way he makes you feel so small under him has your head spinning. How you wish he’d press his body into yours, let you feel him completely. The scents in the air begin to thicken as you find your head tilting back on instinct, baring your throat to him in submission.

His hand closes around your chin, forcing your gaze back on his. “Focus.” He says, projecting his scent more to try and cover yours. It goes straight to your head, your gaze sharpening just slightly as you stare up at him. The scent of alpha around you has your mind racing in several different directions. You know you should be afraid, but it’s Simon. You know him, you trust him. He’d never hurt you intentionally, but he’s still an alpha.

The strong musky scent has something in the back of your head prickling, your instincts teetering on the edge of safety and danger. You know the alpha over you, but what if it was someone else? That was the point of all of this, right? You won’t be fighting off Simon or John. It will be someone unfamiliar, someone who wants to hurt you.

Simon’s fingers leave your chin, trailing down your neck. Your pulse thrums faster as his fingers near the base of your throat. The scent of alpha is strong in your nose. How easily he could slip his hand around the back of your neck and squeeze, rendering you brainless and under his control.

Your mind goes blank and you move without even thinking. Your fist slams into his side right where he’d taught you to hit. He buckles at the sudden attack and you use his moment of surprise and disorientation to free one of your legs and drive your knee right into his stomach. You push him off of you, scrambling back a couple feet before your mind begins to clear. Simon lays on the mat, almost wheezing as he tries to get the air back into his lungs.

You flounder there for a moment, watching the giant alpha you had just incapacitated. You don’t know where that came from or how you’d managed it. No, that’s not totally true. You know where the fear had come from, but you also know Simon would never do something like that to you.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You say, shifting onto your knees in case Simon retaliates, in case he gets angry at you for attacking him. “I don’t know what just happened.”

“The hell are you apologizing for?” He coughs out, pushing himself onto his side. “That was bloody brilliant.”

You blink in surprise, taken aback by his response. “What?”

“That’s what you were supposed to do.” He says, pushing himself the rest of the way up onto his knees. “I asked what you should do if you’re pinned, and you did it.”

You continue to stare at him, not quite sure how to process the sort-of praise from him. He had asked you what you should do if you were pinned, and you had done what you were supposed to do. It hadn’t quite been for the right reasons, but you did do something correctly. You managed to incapacitate him enough to get out from underneath him, and without him going easy on you.

Maybe the training is working after all.

“Do that in a fight, you might just give yourself enough time to run.” He says, pushing himself up to stand. “Good job.”

You continue to stare at him as he passes you, heading to the bench where your belongings sit. You’re still kneeling there on the mat in surprise. You hadn’t expected such genuine praise from him. But why not? He’s doing this to train you, to teach you how to defend yourself against anyone who might want to hurt you. Anyone who’s stupid enough to try something when they’re not here to defend and protect you.

Something that’s already happened.

You’ve finally managed to defend yourself, to apply the things he’s spent weeks teaching you successfully. Why shouldn’t he be proud of you for that?

You’re still getting used to this new side of him, this accepting side, the softness that he’s showing you in his own way. It’s what you wanted, what you’ve been trying to achieve for weeks now, and now that you have it...you’re not quite sure what to do with it. Where does the boundary lie? What if you push too far? Will things go back to the way they were before? Will he shut you out completely?

Hands slip under your arms, lifting you to your feet. You turn, your head tilting back to stare up at Simon. He’s wearing that emotionless mask on his face, or at least that’s what you picture as you stare up at his eyes. It’s the look he carries the most, giving away nothing and effectively hiding what he’s feeling. You wish you could see his face. You’ve tried to draw up images of what he might look like, what he hides under the mask. He can’t be ugly, at least not totally. Johnny had reassured you of that much, but you wish for just a glimpse more than his chin and his lips when he eats.

“You’re thinking too much again.” He says, taking half a step back from you.

“Sorry.” You blink, trying to pull yourself from the depths of your mind once again.

“Come on. Let’s get breakfast.” He says, tilting his head towards the door.

You follow him from the gym, his steps markedly slower compared to how he used to walk. Gone are the days of almost having to run to keep up with him. You could almost swear he takes smaller steps too, instead of his normal long, purposeful strides. It’s almost as if he’s out for a stroll instead of being forced into the task of escorting you to breakfast.

His hand finds your back again as you enter the mess, guiding you through the tables to the line to get food. His palm is warm where it’s pressed against the middle of your back, his fingers splayed, pressing just slightly into your skin through your shirt as an alpha soldier passes just slightly too close to you.

He still won’t fill your tray for you, but you can respect that. It’s a big step, and only done if there’s interest in courting or caretaking. You don’t expect that level of intimacy from him, certainly not right now. Perhaps never.

He’s not your alpha.

He guides you to the table where the others are sitting, and you take your normal spot between John and Kyle. They both shift just slightly closer to you almost subconsciously. Everything is almost a subconscious action now. Simon’s guiding hand on your back, your alpha moving closer to you, the betas keeping you between them whenever you’re with them. It’s a good sign, or at least you think it is. It feels right, a sort of easy flow that has developed between the five of you. One you don’t have to think very hard about.

“How did trainin’ go?” Johnny asks between shoveling bites of eggs into his mouth.

“Fine.” You shrug. “Simon threw me across the mat.”

All eyes at the table turn to him despite your nonchalant tone. It wasn’t the first time it’s ever happened, and you’re sure it won’t be the last.

“She took me down herself afterwards.” Simon says, not bothering to look up from his porridge.

Now all eyes at the table are on you. Your cheeks warm and you slowly start to make yourself smaller under their gazes.

“Had her pinned and she disarmed me enough to get free.” Simon continues, his gaze lifting so he’s staring at you too.

“Christ, what I would pay tae see that.” Johnny says, grinning widely at you.

“So training is paying off then.” John says, patting your back gently.

“Guess so.” You shrug, still feeling a bit bashful under the attention. “Not sure how useful I’d be in a real fight still.”

“Well, your first defense is trying to escape. Running is always the priority, remember?” John says.

You nod. Right. Run first. Like you should have opened the window and ran when that beta knocked on your door. Like you should have run when you noticed your door was open. Like you should have run when someone tried to get into your room.

How disappointed they’d be if they knew how you failed to follow even the most basic instructions. What would have happened if you hadn’t noticed the cameras? Would whoever tried to get into your room that night still have tried to enter? What if the door had been unlocked? What if they had gotten in? What would you have done, then? Try to disarm them enough to run to Dr. Keller?

That is what you were supposed to do.

Instead you had been stupid and froze in your fear and let it all happen, and now you can’t even tell them. It’s too late, it’s been too long. They’d be too upset if you confessed now instead of if you’d done it right when they returned.

You have to bury it now and hope it stays that way for the rest of time.

John is the one that walks you back to the barracks after breakfast. You don’t remember the last time he walked you to a meal or back from it. Usually he was too busy doing his job, or setting up things, or whatever else it is he does. Walking you back to the barracks was far too menial a task for how busy he is.

You hold his hand as you walk, close enough that his arm brushes your side with every step. You don’t let go of his hand even when he walks you to your door, keeping your fingers laced as you turn to look up at him.

“You gonna be alright on your own?” He asks, staring down at you with a soft look in his eyes.

No. You’re almost tempted to say it, to throw your arms around him and confess, to beg him to keep you close, to stay, to take you with him. Anything so you won’t have to be alone ever again.

You swallow the lump in your throat as you nod. “Yeah.”

For a moment, just a moment you think he doesn't believe you. There’s a second of hesitation, a cold chill running down your spine as your anxiety spikes. What if he knows you’re lying? What if he’s testing how long you’ll keep up the charade? How long you’ll try to keep them in the dark about what happened. He knows something is wrong. He can tell.

Your back meets your door as he crowds you in, releasing your hand so he can press both into the wood on either side of you. Something warm stirs in your stomach as you stare up at him, feeling very small as he looms over you.

He lets out a low rumble in his chest as he leans down. For a moment you’re expecting a kiss, but he moves to the side at the last moment, nudging your chin so it’s tilted up, bearing your throat to him. “What’s got you so worked up, huh?” He murmurs against your neck, his beard prickling the sensitive skin. “Have we been neglecting you for too long?”

Saying yes wouldn’t be a lie. They haven’t really sought you out in that way since their return. The most you’ve gotten in the last almost two weeks was when Johnny slipped his hand into your sleep shorts, and you returned the favor. John and Kyle hadn’t really even tried to initiate anything, treating you more like you’d shatter into a million pieces if they touched you too much.

Maybe a good fuck would solve some of your issues.

It would at least help you forget for a while.

A quiet moan leaves your lips as John sucks on your mark, the imprint of his teeth scarred into your skin. The mark that claims you as his, bonded to him for the rest of your life.

Lust and desire burns hot in your veins and you find yourself cupping his face, tugging him away from your neck so you can kiss him. He lets out a growl against your lips as you kiss him like you want to devour him, your hands sliding to his shoulders to tug him closer to you. His hands drop from the door to rest on your hips, pulling you flush against him. You can feel him, his cock hardening through his cargo pants.

You’d let him take you right here, right now, right in the hallway. You don’t care that anyone could walk in at any moment, anyone would be able to see you. It feels almost like it would cleanse the barracks, free you from the fear in your mind. Allowing yourself to be so vulnerable out in the open could wipe away the worry that there’s someone around every corner, someone watching you.

Getting railed by your alpha against the very door that separated you from the room that now held your worst nightmares might just fix you.

But, just like everything else that’s happened recently, you don’t get that chance.

John’s watch begins to beep in your ear, causing him to pull away from you. You let out a quiet whine as you’re forced apart, suddenly feeling chilled from the loss of warmth against you.

John lets out a quiet sigh, leaning his forehead against yours. “I have to go.”

You wish he didn’t. You’re half tempted to beg him to stay, to fuck his job, his duties. You want him to stay, to give all his attention to you, just for a few hours. You want him to erase the fear and the anxiety and fix you.

“We’ll continue this later.” There’s a promise to his tone that he’s not done with you, a guarantee that you will get to continue this once the day is over, when he can go back to being your alpha instead of a captain. He leans in, kissing you once more. “Be a good girl for me, yeah?”

You nod, watching him walk out of the barracks, the door closing softly behind him. You lean against your door for a few moments longer before letting out a breath. There’s still warmth swirling in your stomach, your underwear sticking to your damp folds. An idea pops into your head. You don’t want to go into your room, you don’t want to be in there alone right now.

Instead you head for Price’s room, unbuttoning your pants as you close the door behind you. You strip out of your pants before you climb onto the bed, making yourself comfortable. You’re going to give him a little present, a little something in revenge for leaving you high and dry, a little something to help him look forward to tonight.

Screaming. It’s all you can hear. It makes your ears ring and your head throb. Hands cling to you, nails biting into your skin. Something’s pulling on you, trying to rip you away. You’re stuck in a brutal tug of war. It hurts, but no one can hear you over the screaming. Tears are sliding down your cheeks, blazing a trail along your skin. You shouldn’t be crying, you shouldn’t be upset.

He hates it when you cry.

Alphas don’t cry.

You’re not an alpha.

You’ve committed the worst sin in his eyes, denying him the perfect pack. You’re a stain on his perfect ledger, a mistake that never should have happened.

He’s going to make sure you’re wiped from memory, from history, just as he wants.

“You can’t take her from me!” Your mother’s voice is frantic, her nails biting into your arm as she tries to pull you back into the safety of your arms.

“She’s no daughter of mine.” Your father’s fingers dig painfully into your other arm, trying to pull you away from your mother, away from your life. He’s going to throw you out like you’re nothing more than trash.

The screaming gets louder as you’re yanked from your mother’s hold, and you’re not sure if it’s her screams or your own piercing your ears.

“We have to ensure the success of this program.” The voice has changed. It’s not the cruel hands of your father holding you anymore. “It’s imperative to the future of militaries around the world.”

“No!” You scream, kicking, fighting, lashing out, but the hands won’t let go. They’re like a vice around you, like a constrictor slowly getting tighter and tighter.

“All you have to do is be a good omega,” A hand slips around the back of your neck, your skin burning from the touch. The warning is screaming in your head, louder than the screams of protest spilling from your lips. “And do exactly as you’re told.”

The fingers dig into your neck, your mind flashing for a second before it goes blank.

“No!”

You move before you’re even fully awake, sitting up straight in bed. Your hands close around the back of your neck as you curl into yourself, taking a defensive, protective position. You can still feel the cold hand on your skin, the fingers biting into the sensitive spots on your neck. You’re crying, tears and snot dripping down your face as you press it against your knees.

“No!” Another terrified cry leaves your lips as hands meet your skin, not cold or clammy, but warm and gentle. Your half asleep brain is stuck in your nightmare and can't rationalize the difference, not while you're perceiving everything as a threat.

“Easy, easy.” A voice says, speaking quietly, calmly. You recognize that voice. It’s not one from your dreams. Arms slowly wind around you, pulling you against a warm chest. “I’ve got you. It was just a dream.”

Your breaths are rapid and shaky as you slowly begin to come back to your senses. It was just a dream. You’re awake now. You know that voice.

“Alpha?” You whimper, desperately seeking the confirmation that it’s really him, that you’re really awake and free from your nightmare.

“I’m here.” He says, clutching you tightly against his chest. “Need you to breathe for me.” He pushes your head against his chest so you can feel his breaths.

You’re still crying, your breaths catching in your chest almost painfully as you attempt to follow your alpha’s deep, steady breaths. His arms are still tight around you, pinning you against his chest. His beard tickles your forehead as he leans his chin against your head. He’s projecting his scent, the smell of earth and petrichor mixed with the musk of alpha seeping into your brain.

“Good girl.” He praises you as you begin to relax, your joins unlocking from their stiffened positions, your muscles slowly loosening from how contracted they had been in your defensive position. You could have slipped into distress easily in that position, the level of fear higher than you’ve felt in a long time.

He loosens his hold on you just slightly as you begin to unravel yourself as you calm down. Your hands are still clamped around the back of your neck, your fingers trembling from how stiffly they’re held against your most vulnerable spot.

“Keep relaxing.” He says quietly, his lips brushing your hairline. “I’ve got you.”

He continues to speak to you quietly, letting you work yourself out of your tense, defensive position. You slowly begin to slide your hands away from your neck as your mind begins to clear and you realize there’s no threat to you, nothing waiting just outside your line of vision to attack. Your alpha has you, you’re safe with him, well protected.

The tears continue to fall, however, as you think back on your nightmare. It had felt so real, maybe because in a way it had been real. You had been pulled from your mother, from your home to the institute, then from the institute to the CIA, from the CIA to here and straight into General Shepherd's lap.

“Promise me,” You gasp out, your voice hoarse from crying. “Tell me you’ll never scruff me.”

“Never.” He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I promise I’ll never scruff you.”

You press your face into his chest, breathing out a quiet sigh of relief. He could always go back on his word, he could change his mind, decide you needed to be scruffed. You know it’s foolish, having those kinds of thoughts. He’s never once gone back on his word, never once proved himself untrustworthy to you.

“I need to know if you've ever been scruffed before.” He asks, the authority slipping into his voice.

A frown pulls at your brows. You can’t remember if you’ve ever been scruffed before. Was it possible you had, but had been made to forget? Everything you’ve learned about scruffing says you would know, even if you don’t remember what happened after. It’s a very distinct feeling returning to your mind afterwards. It’s just something you’d know.

“No? I-I don’t think so?” You say. “At least I can’t remember, but I think it’s one of those things that you would know if it happened.”

“I’ve seen it happen, and I’ve seen the aftermath. You would know if it had ever happened to you.”

His words bring a shred of relief to your worried mind. You don’t want to know, you don’t want to ask how he knows, why he knows. It’s not likely he would have been able to tell you anyway. Just another secret, just another thing kept in the dark. You knew from early on they’d have their secrets, things they wouldn’t ever be able to tell you. You just never expected to have one of your own.

You curl up closer against his chest, pushing the thoughts and the guilt hanging over your head away in favor of soaking up the calming presence of your alpha. For a moment, just a moment, you can imagine everything will be alright. What’s in the past will stay there and nothing will come back to haunt you. You can just move on, and pretend like nothing happened.

You know it’s not true, but for just a moment, you can pretend that it is.

He hates it.

He hates the way he feels.

The subtle change to his heart rate, the way his insides feel like they’re fluttering, twisting. The disappointment eating him when his existence is ignored entirely in favor of those who were brave enough to open up, to allow you in.

Why is he disappointed? He’s done nothing but brush you off, keep you desperately at arms length despite your attempts to wiggle in through the slowly widening cracks in his resolve. Cracks that were formed by your very insertion into their lives. They were happy, they were fine. Then you came along and fucked everything up.

The worst part?

He likes it.

He wanted to hate you. For so long he fought that desire in him to be near an omega again, to be close enough to smell your sickeningly sweet scent. He tried to hate you, tried to ignore you, push you away from the walls he’s spent decades building up. Walls that threatened to crumble thanks to your very existence.

He’s not sure when the change happened. It was gradual, a shift in his hatred that became fascination that quickly morphed into something more. Something forbidden. Maybe it was when you submitted to him during training, or maybe it was after your first time with Johnny when his beta had looked far too pleased, and shared the intimate details of what you had done to him far too easily. Johnny’s need to yap had won out and his beta’s words had caused a stirring in his stomach he hasn’t felt in a long time.

A stirring he’d been able to ignore for so long.

For a moment, just a moment there had been fleeting curiosity. Would you try to take control with him? What if he let you do it? How long could you keep it up before you tired out and your true nature took over?

He stuffed those thoughts into the far recesses of his mind, refusing to allow them forward. He’s not getting soft, he’s not going to allow you any closer to his already cracking walls.

He tells himself that, at least until they leave. Until he sees the effect you have on his pack. The ripples in the bonds, the changes that happen almost as soon as the ramp of the plane shuts, separating you from them for the first time since your arrival.

He’s a good soldier. He can pretend nothing’s wrong, force the feelings into the back of his mind better than anyone. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

It had hurt when you ignored him on your return, throwing yourself into Price’s arms desperately and clinging to him like he might disappear. The betas had sandwiched you between them, letting you cling to them desperately as you trembled and cried. It was pathetic, but not quite as pathetic as the bitterness and the sting of disappointment in his chest.

He tried not to let himself feel it, tried to bury himself in his paperwork, tried to keep the feelings at bay, at least until Johnny had knocked on his door, mattress in tow telling him to get a blanket and head for Price’s room.

It was Kyle’s idea. Had to be. Kyle is the most nurturing of the four of them, and judging by the state of you, he must have done it because he thought it would help.

By the time he grew the balls to enter the makeshift nest, the betas had already sandwiched you between them, your form almost smothered completely under Johnny. Price had laid himself out on Kyle’s other side, and the space for him was made up of mostly Johnny’s mattress. It had to have been a deliberate move, meant for his own comfort. Sweet Johnny and his beta senses. He probably didn’t even realize what he’d done. It had just happened naturally.

It’s at Johnny’s pestering insistence that he climbs into the nest finally, laying stiffly on the mattress behind his beta. It’s been a long time since he’s been in a nest. He doesn't sleep, not much anyway, but neither does Price. Both of them are too awake, too aware, too alert. The betas sleep peacefully and so do you, probably the most sleep you’ve gotten since your heat.

The warmth in the room gets unbearable fast, the blankets quickly kicked to the end of the mattresses, along with his own sweatshirt. It’s like a sauna, and for a moment he considers opening the window, but he’s too afraid to move, too afraid to disturb the nest.

It’s when Johnny gets up to go to the bathroom that you finally move, the first time in hours. You roll into the space he had vacated, lips slightly parted as you breathe in and out easily. Johnny, the bastard, takes your empty spot, trapping you between them. He turns his back to you in hopes you stay as still as you had before, which works for a while. At least, until he feels something press up against his back. He goes still, every muscle tensing as you bury your face between his shoulder blades. He should turn over, push you away. He should nudge you back towards Johnny, let you seek out his warmth instead. Yet, he can’t bring himself to move.

He shouldn’t like it. He can’t. He can’t allow you in, he can’t let you past his rapidly crumbling walls. Yet, he does like it. He wants to feel you pressed against him, he wants to see that hidden part of you that had brought his beta to his knees so easily.

He’s supposed to be keeping his distance, and yet, here you are, forcing your way in again. It almost feels like a silent apology for yesterday, your subconscious picking up on his disappointment, and so now it’s offering him this moment in hopes he’ll forgive you.

It’s working.

A quiet breath leaves your lips as you listen to the steady beating beneath your ear. The scent of coconut and saltwater floats in the air, taking your mind far away, back to a different time when things were simpler. Kyle’s calloused fingers trail across your arm, drawing absentminded patterns across your skin. You press your face against his warm skin, your hand splaying across his stomach. You can feel the ridges of his muscles, the way they flex with every breath.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, his lips brushing your forehead as he speaks.

“Just thinking about when we used to go to the beach when I was younger. Back when my dad was stationed in North Carolina for a few months.”

“You like the beach?” He asks.

You nod. “Yeah. There’s just something calming about it. I don’t mind the sand and I like the sound of the waves hitting the shore.”

“We could go to the beach.” He says, making you tilt your head up just slightly. “When the weather’s nicer, closer to summer. Take a few days off, go on a vacation.”

“You could do that?” You ask, pushing yourself up on your elbow so you can see him fully.

He smiles at you, his hand dropping to your back. “We do get to go on leave every so often, barring nothing urgent happens while we’re away. I’ll talk to Price about it. We can start making some plans, if you want.”

You stare down at him, the softness in his gaze, the slight upward tilt of his lips. He might as well have just promised you the world with how he’s looking at you. Tears burn at the back of your eyes as you stare at him. You don’t deserve it, you don’t deserve such kindness, such care after lying to them. You can trust Kyle. He’d be the least angry, at least towards you, if you confessed right now. It would be so easy, but you’re not sure you could stand watching the love and happiness fade from his eyes as you confessed to your stupidity, your deception.

“What is it?” He asks, his brows furrowing. Of course he’d pick up on the shift of your emotions, the sudden anxiety twisting in your stomach. “We don’t have to go to the beach. We could do something else, or nothing at all.”

“It’s not that.” You say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I just...I don’t deserve you. All of you. You’re too good to me.”

“Oh, love, that’s not true.” He says, gently cupping your cheek. “I think it’s quite the opposite, actually. You’re too good for us. The things we’ve seen, the things we’ve done. We’re not good people, and yet we were blessed with an absolute angel.”

Tears gather in your eyes for a different reason now. You certainly don’t feel like an angel. You’re too broken and you’ve lied and made stupid mistakes. “I’m hardly an angel.”

“Well, in comparison to us, you are.” He gently presses against your back, drawing you closer to his face. “Our angel, our sweet little omega.”

A shiver runs down your spine from the way your status sounds from his lips. His hand slides to the back of your head, pulling you down so your forehead is pressed against his. You can feel his breath on your lips, your tongue darting out to wet your own in anticipation.

He tastes like mint toothpaste, his tongue immediately pushing past the seam of your lips. His kiss steals your breath away, his hand tangling in your hair to keep you in place as he licks into your mouth. Your hand settles on his chest for balance, feeling his heart racing under your palm.

You shift over him, throwing a leg across his hips as you settle against his chest. His hand releases your hair, tracing a line down your spine to your hips. The shirt of his you had changed into before crawling into bed with him has ridden up, revealing the lacy panties you're sporting underneath. He groans against your lips as his fingers trace over the lace before slipping underneath, tugging them lightly.

You pull away from his lips, staring down at him. “I’m gonna need more pairs of these at this rate.”

“We’ll have to take a trip and pick up more.” He grins, snapping the waistband against your skin.

You bite your lip, pressing yourself up so you’re sitting over his hips. You can feel the growing bulge beneath his shorts as you begin to grind against him. He’s gone commando, your clit catching on his head through the thin fabric. Your hands press into his stomach, feeling the muscles contract as your scent thickens in the air. His hands close around your hips, guiding you as you grind against him. His eyes are hooded as he stares up at you, his teeth sinking into his lower lip.

You stare down into those big brown eyes, getting lost in the depth of them. If you could melt yourself into him, seep under his skin and become one with him, you would. He might be the most beautiful person you’ve ever laid eyes on. He might as well be sculpted from marble, or pulled right from a piece of artwork.

You shift so you’re leaning forward, your clit dragging against his stomach as you continue moving your hips. You grasp his chin, fingers digging into his cheeks. “You’re so fucking pretty, it’s not fair.”

He chuckles, giving you a dazzling, perfect smile. “Thank you, love.” He wraps his arms around you, pushing himself up to sit so you drop into his lap. “But I’m nothing compared to you right now.”

He keeps you grinding against his lap, his hands squeezing your ass as you soak the front of his shorts with every drag of your hips. Your head falls back as you moan, the friction against your clit quickly pushing you towards an orgasm.

“Haven’t even touched you yet and got you all worked up. You could cum just like this, couldn’t you?” He nips playfully at your lips, sliding his hand down further to press against your lace covered pussy.

You let out a whine, releasing your hold around his shoulders long enough to tug off your shirt. He curses quietly as your skin is revealed to him, his hands trailing up your back.

“Fucking hell, love.” He groans, pushing his hips up into you.

“Kyle,” You moan his name, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Need you.”

He curses again, wrapping his arms around your waist for leverage as he flips you over onto your back. He sits up on his knees, trailing his hands down your sides until he reaches the waistband of your panties, trailing his fingers across the lace for a moment.

“You alright?” He asks, checking in with you.

You nod, lifting your feet so they press against his chest. “You gonna take them off already?”

He grins, sliding his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down your legs before tossing them to the floor. He parts your thighs to give himself room as he pulls off his own shorts, his cock springing free from the confining fabric. Your mouth waters as you stare at it, your teeth sinking into your lip in anticipation.

“Fuck,” He breathes as he pushes your thighs further apart, dark eyes glued to your glistening folds.

He slides his hands down your thighs, his thumb ghosting over your clit. Your hips jerk in response, pushing up against his hand. He chuckles, repeating the motion, watching the way your lips part in a moan.

“Always so sensitive.” He smirks, pressing his thumb into the bundle of nerves. “Even after Price fucked you senseless a couple nights ago.”

Your face warms at his words, your stomach fluttering excitedly. Of course they had heard you. You’ve long given up on trying to hide what goes on behind their closed doors. They all know, they already knew from the first night you spent with John.

He had been rather rough that night, fucking you into the mattress so hard the headboard had scraped some of the prison grey paint off the walls. You had asked for it, though, both of you needing the raw, carnal release it had given you.

“Yeah, we all heard that.” Kyle continues, slowly circling your clit with his thumb as he speaks. “Sounded like a couple of animals in there. If you hadn’t been screaming his name over and over, we might have been worried he’d mauled you to death. Simon and I had to keep Johnny occupied so he wasn’t tempted to join you.”

Your pussy flutters at the thought of the three of them together, riled up by you and John. You can almost picture it, Johnny in Simon’s lap, bouncing on his cock while Kyle sucks him off from the front. Or did Johnny submit to both and suck Kyle’s cock while Simon took him from behind? Or was Simon more of a giver and sucked him off while Kyle fucked him? Or did Simon take both of them after making them both suck his cock?

The endless stream of thoughts has your pussy clenching, slick dribbling out of you as your legs start to shake. It’s almost too much with the pressure against your clit, your body heating from the fire ignited in your veins.

“Liked that, didn’t you?” Kyle smirks, removing his hand from your clit to lean down over you. “Maybe next time we’ll squeeze you in right in the middle. Would you like that?”

You nearly cum from his words alone, your hands grasping at his shoulders. “Fuck, Kyle! I need you inside me right now.”

“So impatient.” He tsks, leaning forward to bite at your lips. “Such a needy little omega.”

“Please!” You almost sob, lifting your hips to press against his. “I need you.”

He shushes you, pressing a soft kiss against your lips before sitting back up onto his knees. He shifts slightly closer to you, propping your legs up over his thighs. His hand fists his cock, pumping the hard length a couple times before he drags the head through your folds. You whine impatiently, trying to lift your hips to grind against him but he presses a hand into your stomach, pinning you against the bed.

“Patience.” He scolds you, sending a shiver down your spine.

He drags his head through your folds a couple more times before he finally presses into you, stretching you open. You go lax on the bed, relaxing around him as he rocks his hips into you, sinking in deeper with every movement.

You reach for him as he sinks completely into you, pulling him down so he’s hovering over you. He presses his lips to yours, kissing you softly as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as you can. His arms slip around your back as he begins grinding against you, his thrusts shallow and soft. It’s so very different from how John had taken you just a couple days ago. Kyle has always been softer, gentler, more passionate than rough and eager.

You moan softly against his lips, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him locked against you. You want to get closer to him, but you’re not sure you can get closer than you already are. Bodies pressed together, his cock inside you, lips pressed to yours as he holds you. There’s a prickling under your skin, an urge to devour him, to keep him here forever. He snaps his hips into you harder, his lips trailing down to your throat, sucking at the sensitive skin. You tilt your head to the side, your eyes widening as a gasp leaves your lips. Your fingers dig into Kyle’s side, his head snapping to the side, sensing the disturbance in the room.

“Don’t stop on my account.” John leans against the closed door, a cigar in his hand.

You’re not sure how long he’s been there, how he got in without either of you noticing. Kyle especially, since he was usually so in tune with his surroundings. Pride flashes through you at the thought of him being so lost in you, he can’t focus on anything else. The scent of tobacco washes over you as John takes a long drag from his cigar. He must not have been there long, or maybe you’ve just been so caught up in Kyle’s scent you hadn’t noticed.

Kyle is frozen above you as John pushes off the door, approaching the bed slowly. Kyle shifts above you so he can hold John’s gaze as he stops at the edge of the bed. Excitement swirls in your stomach as you stare up at him in anticipation of what he’s going to do. His hand lifts, dragging down Kyle’s back to his ass.

John delivers a harsh slap to his cheek, Kyle’s hips snapping into yours in response as a moan leaves his lips. “Did I tell you to stop, soldier?”

“No, sir.” Kyle grunts out, starting to rock his hips into yours again.

You watch the change happen almost immediately, the natural shift between them. Kyle’s not in charge anymore, quickly handing over control to John despite the fact he’s the one inside of you. It’s a subtle submission, yet you can sense the changes in them both.

John massages Kyle’s ass for a moment before shifting so he’s closer to you. You stare up at him, lips parted as you whimper quietly. “There’s my pretty girl.” He praises you as he leans down, brushing his thumb over your lips before pushing it into your mouth. You close your lips around his thumb, sucking on it. “Such a good girl, isn’t she?”

“Yes, sir.” Kyle grunts, continuing to thrust into you harder than he had been before.

John takes another drag from his cigar as you moan around his thumb, your hands gripping the sheets as Kyle continues to thrust into you, the head of his cock dragging across that spot inside you from the angle he’s at. Moans slip from Kyle’s lips as you clench around him, his own hands digging into the sheets. Sweat has beaded across his forehead, a droplet sliding down his cheek to his neck, leaving a trail as it slowly drips down his chest. Drool slips out of your mouth around John’s thumb. You want to lick the sweat from his chest. You want to taste him.

John slips his thumb from your lips, dragging it across your chin, smearing saliva all over your skin. “Look at her.” He says, moving so he’s looking over Kyle’s shoulder. “Drooling already and you haven’t even made her cum yet, have you?” His hand slips around the back of Kyle’s neck, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin. “You gonna make her cum like a good boy?”

Kyle lets out a moan, his pace stuttering just slightly. “Yes, sir.” He grits out, picking up the pace as he slams into that spot inside you with every movement.

John takes a step back, continuing to smoke as he watches the two of you. It’s almost too much between Kyle fucking you and John watching. There’s a coil tightening in your stomach, the pleasure intensifying more and more. A fire has started under your skin, your eyes glued to John’s as Kyle pushes you closer and closer to the peak.

You hold John’s gaze as you cum, your back arching in pleasure. Kyle doesn’t stop, continuing to thrust into you as he chases his own high.

John waits until your moans have died down before he moves, stubbing out his cigar on Kyle’s nightstand before he grasps Kyle by the hips, stopping his movements. “Switch places with our girl.” He murmurs into Kyle’s ear, Kyle taking a second to breathe before he wraps his arms around you, flipping you back around so you’re on top again as John kicks off his shoes.

Your hands press into Kyle’s stomach to hold yourself steady, your legs still shaking from your orgasm. John climbs on the bed behind you, his clothed chest pressing against your bare, sweat slicked back.

“Gonna be a good girl and make him cum?” John says quietly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

A shiver runs down your spine as you nod, starting to rock your hips just slightly. John’s hands settle on your waist, helping you move as you begin to bounce on Kyle’s cock. Kyle’s eyes are wide as he watches you and his alpha, John pressing kisses across your shoulders and neck as he helps you fuck his beta. Kyle’s hands grip your thighs, fingers indenting the skin as he holds on for dear life.

“That’s it.” John praises you, shifting your body forward just slightly so Kyle’s cock drags across that spot inside you with your every movement. You clench around him, your thighs tightening around his hips.

“Fuck...” Kyle moans, his own hips bucking up into yours.

“Gonna make him cum?” John asks, his hands abandoning your hips. One snakes around your stomach to rub your clit while the other slips behind you to squeeze Kyle's balls.

Kyle lets out a loud moan, his hips snapping up against yours as your walls clamp tightly around him. You can feel the warm ropes of his release spurting inside you, increasing the pressure as you cum a second time on his cock.

John works you both through your orgasms, your entire body shaking by the time he releases you, pushing you forward against Kyle's chest. You lay there, your cheek pressed against his sweaty skin, ass in the air right in John's face. He watches as Kyle's seed begins to seep out of you, forced out by the aftershocks of your orgasm. He drags his fingers through your folds, gathering Kyle's cum before pushing it back into you. You moan softly from the stretch of his fingers against your sensitive walls, pushing your hips back against his hand.

“Don't want to waste any of that.” John says, nipping at the globe of your ass cheek. “You know Kyle likes to clean you up himself.”

You let out a quiet moan, your pussy fluttering around John’s fingers. You’re about to be in for a very long night.

NEXT ->

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #cod x reader #task force 141 x reader #poly tf 141 #poly task force 141 #John price x reader #captain John price x reader #Kyle gaz Garrick x reader #gaz x reader #Johnny soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #Simon ghost Riley x reader #Simon Riley x reader #a/b/o #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega

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kamiversee · 8 months ago

Text

˗ˏˋ My Love Note ´ˎ˗

1 | Something about you

❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.

❧ Content | flirting, language, suggestiveness, fluff, & faint sexual tension.

❧ Word Count | 7.1k (we're starting off strong it seems...)

❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader.

| Chapters mlist |

——Congratulations, you’ve nearly escaped hell— not-so-happily entering your final year of university as time stands currently. And y’know what, you think you’ve coasted through most of your college years drama-free. Well, aside from freshman year you suppose, everyone fucks up around that time…

But that’s a tale for another day, right now, you’re finding yourself waltzing into an entirely different plotline— with your head held high as you waltz toward a newfound cafe that you haven’t had the pleasure of finding for the past four years. Up until today, you’ve just barely been stomaching dining hall caffeine. Which, to say the least, isn’t nearly as savory or energizing as coffee from your local cafe.

Four years you’ve been going to this school and yet here you were walking right into an establishment you swear simply spawned out of nowhere because you pass this street all the damn time and you don’t remember this place being here a week ago. Yet, when you enter the cafe and spot a sign that says they’ve been there for the past three years, you begin to realize that maybe you should start going out a bit more…

Nonetheless, you mentally claimed that if the coffee here was bad, you’d walk right out and return to never acknowledging the place. But hey, when you do push past those double doors, fingers wrapped around a warm metal handle, a waft of smoky coffee aromas simmering into your nose, and spot a rather attractive cashier first thing, you’re quick to tell yourself that maybe shitty coffee might be worth a few things.

Especially seeing as six staggering feet of height, fluffy bright white locks of hair, and the most dazzling set of blue eyes take notice of your entering seconds after you’ve stepped inside— how could you not tell yourself that terrible coffee may be worth digesting so long as you get to drink in this tall, fine man whose name you note as Gojo as you near him and read the tag on his apron.

“Suguru, it seems the gods have finally answered my prayers,” Gojo yells back to someone you can’t quite see yet. His eyes were all over you, drinking you in just as you were him. The tall man receives a laugh from somewhere further behind him before he redirects his words to you, “To what do I have the pleasure of serving you today, sweetheart?”

Your lips parted as you approached the counter fully, your eyes lingering on his far longer than they should’ve. “Uh,” And you were making a fool out of yourself already, great, “It’s my first time here, so I’m not too sure…” Okay, that’s a decent enough save considering how your words earn a half smile from the man in front of you who tilts his head and eyes you down.

And fuck if he wasn’t every bit of intimidating looking down at you like that. He places a single hand onto the counter space in front of him, leaning forward just a bit before turning his head back to take a glance at the menu hanging up, as if he didn’t have it memorized already, “Well, for first-timers I usually recommend anything but our coffee.”

You bat your lashes at the man for a moment as he returns his attention to you, “Seriously? That’s the one thing I came in here for…”

“Ah, well,” Gojo clicks his tongue and shrugs a bit, leaning toward you just to whisper, “Y’gotta come here when I’m in the back.”

You lean forward, intrigued by his words, “…Why?”

“Cause’ Suguru doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing,” Gojo chuckles a bit and you reciprocate before pushing your brows together questioningly. “Suguru, my best fr-, my coworker.” He clarifies quickly.

“Ohh,” You nod, “So should I come back another time, or…?”

“Nono, you caught me a few minutes before rush hour,” Gojo says rather cheerfully before he leans away from you and flashes a smile, “I can run back there ‘nd make ya’ somethin’ since we’re not too busy?”

At that, you take a moment to glance around the cafe interior, spotting one, maybe two people sitting on their laptops and languidly sipping or munching away at their breakfast. You’re glad you came in when you did.

Not only did you get the chance to talk to Gojo, who you turn back to seconds later with a nod, but you also got the chance to get not-so-shitty coffee according to the man. “Yeah, actually. That’d be nice,” You hum to him.

Gojo dramatically moves to stretch his arms, clasping his hands together before extending them out with a heavy sigh, as if he were preparing to do such a difficult task. “Alrighty then, is there any specific kinda coffee you’re lookin’ for?”

“Still my first time here, Gojo. So, no…” The way you say his name so suddenly has him wondering if you knew him from somewhere. But, you quickly smile a little and nod your chin to his name tag, to which he looks down and laughs at himself. “Surprise me,” You then say moments later.

“Surprise you?” Gojo echoes.

You shrug sheepishly, “If that’s not too much work for you-“

“No, I don’t mind. I can surprise ya’,” His smile at you deepens and you catch the slightest dip in his cheeks as the most enamoring set of dimples pops out to your gaze. “Buuut, before I do… Do you have any allergies or dislikes I should be wary of?”

You hum, “Uh, no I don’t think so? I’m feeling rather open-minded today so, just bring me something good enough to have me returning for more.”

“Yeah? I mean, I’m sure you’ll come back for somethin’ else aside from jus’ coffee,” Gojo laughs to himself at his own comment and your eyes simply widen, a cute lil’ tilt of your head catching his attention.

You chuckle nervously, “What else would I come back for if not coffee?”

He shrugs before slowly turning away, “Oh, I dunno… Perhaps a certain handsome cashier that’s caught your eye?”

Oh, you see where he’s going with this. It may have been a while but, you know what flirting looks like. “Is this handsome cashier in the room with us, or…?” You tease with a smile on your face, watching the way Gojo freezes and he sends you this look that you have to try your hardest not to laugh at.

He nearly pouts, “W-Well, yeah, obviously. You’re lookin’ at him.”

Your brows lift, “Am I?”

Gojo narrows those pretty blue eyes of his at you, “Do you not find me handsome?”

“Say I didn’t,” You murmur tauntingly, “Wouldn’t you be really embarrassed?”

The corner of his lips twitch before he scoffs playfully, “What are you, some kinda masochist?”

You giggle, “No, but seein’ that pout on your face was kinda cute.”

“Pout?” Gojo gasps dramatically, “Hah, what pout?” He scoffs again before straightening his face and attempting to be serious with you, “I didn’t pout-“

“You totally did,” You cut off, peering right into those mesmerizing eyes of his— damn, it was almost like you couldn’t get yourself to look away.

“I did not,” Gojo corrects your statement, lower lip poking out once more into a pout.

You shrug and finally get yourself to glance off to the side, “It was cute.”

He instantly tilts his head at that, ears perking up, “Y’think I’m cute?”

“I do.” You hum simply with your eyes wandering right back over to his face.

There’s this little moment between the two of you, a spark if you will, where you both just meet one another’s eyes and admire each other. Is this what mutual attraction feels like?

Perhaps if you squinted, you would’ve noticed the faintest shade of pink decorating his cheeks, “I-,” Gojo swallows suddenly, “Why thank you, sweetheart,” He utters suavely, as if to save himself from embarrassment. After which, he clears his throat, “That aside, we’ve got about six minutes before people start rushin’ in here ‘nd it’ll take two for me to prepare that coffee of yours so, do you mind givin’ me a name?”

You blink, “A name…?”

“Your name,” Gojo clarifies.

“Oh! Sorry,” You’re quick to apologize for your moment of daze, giving him your name seconds later to make up for it.

He starts to smile again, “That’s your name?”

“Yes?” You utter almost confusedly. Was there something wrong-

“It’s pretty,” Gojo interrupts your thoughts completely and your eyes go all wide all over again, a small feature in which he finds absolutely adorable.

“T-Thank you,” You stammer out, turning away to now avoid the eye contact you once couldn’t tear yourself away from.

“Uhuh,” His eyes scan you up and down once more before he sighs, “I’ll be back in a sec’, sweets,” Gojo says finally.

God, you think the nickname he threw out has your heart racing because it made your face so utterly hot. Almost as if you don’t hear nicknames like that on a daily basis…

Aside from that, you gave Gojo one last nod before looking back over your shoulder to see if anyone was coming yet. He’d told you that there was only a few minutes until rush hour so you were a bit wary that people would appear out of nowhere in the next-

“So you’re the girl that’s got Satoru all giggly, huh?” A voice purrs from somewhere in front of you.

Quickly, you return your gaze forward and spot a man, equally as tall as Gojo, with long dark hair, slim eyes, and a really pretty face— holy shit, how many hot guys work here??

“Uh,” You’re stuttering again, tipping your head to the side, “…Satoru?” You repeat, confused by the person he’s referring to.

The man chuckles, “Gojo,” He tells you, “Satoru Gojo,” You nod at the clarification and he grins warmly.

“Oh, then yeah I guess so,” You shrug sheepishly before flashing a smile, “So then that means you must be Suguru-“

“Geto,” He’s so quick to correct you that you almost immediately shut up, swallowing down your words as if you’d said something wrong. “Sorry, I assume Satoru told you my first name?”

You steadily nod, avoiding eye contact with him out of embarrassment, “He did…”

“As expected,” Geto hums before letting out a long sigh, “Just call me by me last, I don’t know you too well so I’m sure you understand.”

You hum, “Right, sorry.”

It’s a tad bit awkward for the next few seconds after that mild conversation but when you hear Gojo yelling from somewhere in the back, the awkwardness quickly subsides.

You even spot Gojo popping his head out from around the corner just to speak to his coworker, “Suguru don’t scare her off jus’ cause you have a girlfriend-“

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Geto interrupts, sharp with his correction as he glances back over his shoulder.

Gojo snorts, “Fine then, girl who’s a friend that you like-“

“I don't-,” A sigh leaves Geto’s lips before he’s moving to pinch the bridge of his nose, groaning afterward, “Just hurry up with the damn coffee before people start comin’ in.”

Your eyes somehow find Gojo’s and you watch him mouth out something to you, “He’s grouchy because his girlfriend’s ignorin’ him-“

“Satoru,” Geto says scoldingly, causing Gojo to flinch dramatically.

Then you see the white-haired man laugh before winking at you and dipping back around the corner. After which, you don’t even realize you’re smiling until you meet Geto’s gaze and feel your expression drop at the glare he’s giving you.

“What?” You murmur warrily, raising a brow at his plain look.

Geto tilts his head and studies your face for a mere moment, “You new around here or somethin’?”

“New to this cafe, yeah,” You explain, “Why?”

He shrugs, “I’ve learned most of our customer’s faces and majority of them live around the area but I’ve never seen you before.��

“I live not too far from campus but I wasn’t aware this cafe was here until today…” You explain steadily, earning somewhat of an intrigued expression from the man.

“Damn, really?”

You nod, “Mhm.”

“So, wait,” Geto scoffs a little at the thought, “Don’t tell me you’ve been stomaching dining hall caffeine all this time.”

You chuckle and glance off to the side, “Well…”

“If you live near campus, how the hell are you just now finding us??” Geto questions, he seems genuinely confused by your cluelessness.

Your shoulders lift into a shrug, “I don’t go out much.”

“Maybe you should,” He tells you.

A thin lipped smile tugs at your lips, “Starting to realize that now, thanks.”

The man opens his mouth to say something but he’s cut off by Gojo returning from the back and placing a hand on his shoulder, to which Geto glances down at.

“Alrighty Suguru, thanks for not scaring the pretty lady away!” Gojo says cheerfully as he pushes past his friend and makes eye contact with you.

Geto’s brows push together, “You’re welcome? I don’t know how I would’ve scared her, I-“

Gojo unintentionally cuts him off with a laugh, “You’ve been kinda grouchy towards women ever since you met-“

“Fuck off,” He grumbles, brushing off Gojo’s hand on his shoulder and turning to make his way to the back once more.

“See what I mean?” Gojo hums to himself.

Then Geto laughs, “You’re not a woman are you?”

“Suguruuu,” Gojo whines, turning his head back to his friend who’s already disappeared from his line of vision. Then, Gojo sighs and looks to you again, “Ah whatever, ignore him, he sucks sometimes.”

You grin, “You guys are best friends, aren’t you?”

The way Gojo tilts his head almost innocently is kinda cute, “How can you tell?”

“Mine acts similarly,” You explain, thinking of your best friend who’s not the nicest person in the world.

“Yeah?” Gojo hums, “An asshole once they get into a relationship?”

“I’m not in a relationship, Satoru!” Geto calls out from the back.

You watch as Gojo rolls his eyes at his friend's refutation of his claims. Looking somewhat off to the side, your thoughts wander more so toward your best friend, “Well, no, he’s kinda just an asshole all around.”

“Really? Why’re you his best friend then?” You’ve always found this question funny considering most people are confused about how you and your best friend are even friends when most times you two don’t get along.

Instead of really answering Gojo’s question, you look up at him and smile, “I could ask you the same thing, no?”

His brows furrow and he scoffs, “What? No, Suguru’s just grouchy today, I promise he’s usually better than that.”

You nod, “I see…”

“Anyway,” Gojo extends his hand out to you, “Here, give this a try,” He offers, handing a decently sized cold drink to you.

You receive the item and look down at it, “You’re not trying to poison me right?”

Gojo laughs, “Aaand why ever would I do that?”

The cup is steadily lifted to your lips as you lift your eyes to him once more, “I dunno, men are weird.”

“That they are,” He chuckles, “But no, that’d be illegal and I have no intentions of harming you.”

Again, you just nod at that and then take that first sip of the surprise drink he’d given you. A strong taste of vanilla and a nearly overwhelming amount of coffee creamer hits your tastebuds. You smile but you’re a bit taken back by how sweet it is. One, it’s way better than any cup of coffee you’ve ever had from the dining hall and two, it’s a lot sweeter than you were expecting.

“Holy fuck, how much sugar did you put in this thing?” You utter in surprise as you move the cup away from your mouth and glance at it as if that’ll give you the answer to your question.

Gojo lets out a laugh, “You said to surprise you.”

“Yeah but this is sweet as hell,” You tell him, your eyes raking over the cup in your hand.

“Sweet drink for a sweet girl, I don’t see a problem,” He responds with a little lean toward you.

“Right and-,” You scoff, eyes narrowing at the very lousy print of your name on the cup, “Who’s…” You almost laugh, “Christ, your handwriting is shit.”

Gojo lets out a huff, “Okay, first off, my handwriting is not that bad. And secondly-”

You’re quick to turn the cup to him and lift it, “Look at it!”

“Oh.” He squints his eyes at it, “Shit, that is kinda bad…” Gojo mumbles with an amused little smile on his face.

“Yeah, I can’t even read this…” You laugh, returning the cup to yourself, “But that’s okay, I appreciate the effort,” His smile grows at your comforting words as you then look up at him once more, “How much?”

“Since my handwriting’s so shit,” He starts, tilting his head at you and shrugging, “Consider it on the house.”

Your eyes seem to light up, “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Gojo hums.

“Aw, thank you,” Who would you be to ever pass up something free? Especially given by this cheeky cashier before you.

“Anytime-”

Geto’s voice intrudes from the back, “Satoru I thought I told you to change these filters? And why’d you leave such a big mess, holy shit.”

Gojo yells back to his coworker, slightly looking over his shoulder, “The mess isn’t that bad is it?”

You snort, “If it’s anything like your handwriting then uh…”

“Alright,” Gojo’s quick to look at you once more, “You just got a free drink out of me so I don’t wanna hear anything from you.”

“Satoru, these filters aren’t gonna change themselves,” Geto nags further.

You watch as Gojo rolls his eyes and yells back to his friend yet again, “You’re literally back there already, change them yourself.”

“Nope, it’s your turn,” Geto argues.

Gojo frowns, “But-”

“The girl’s not goin’ anywhere anytime soon,” At that, you blink in surprise. How does he know you’re not ready to leave just yet? “Get your ass back here,” Geto orders.

Gojo turns his head and looks at you almost pleadingly.

You giggle, “What? Sounds like you’ve got some filters to change, Gojo…”

“Y’know what,” He scoffs and nods his chin to the cup in your hand, “$5.45.”

Your head cocks back a little and your brows go up, “I’m sorry?”

“The drink,” Gojo hums simply, looking back to make sure Geto wasn’t on his way out to scold him some more just yet, “Since you wanna take his side over mine…”

The way you frown misses Gojo’s eyes up until he turns to look at you one last time, his eyes going wide as you try to defend yourself, “I wasn’t-”

“S’fine, I got it,” An entirely different voice grumbles from your right, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin. So close to you, an arm slips right past your face and you watch as an all too familiar man extends a card out to Gojo.

Your lashes bat a few times as an annoyingly familiar scent of cologne rushes into your nose. You’d literally just escaped said smell a few hours ago after leaving your apartment and yet here it was all over again, directly in your nose and you met the side profile of your best friend, “Choso?” You utter.

Whatever light and fluffy banter that was in the air seconds ago seems to die at the mere presence of Choso standing so closely beside you. Ignoring you, he urges Gojo to take his card and Gojo soon does so with a scoff— he was going to keep flirting and teasing you but here comes this all-too-serious-looking man taking your vacant side as if it were second nature.

The smile Gojo once had on his face simmered down and his expression became a lot more neutral as he quietly moved to charge Choso’s card.

After which, your best friend finally looks down at you, his eyes pointed in a glare that would make anyone feel unloved despite you knowing he feels quite the opposite (to some extent at least), “Don’t you have class in an hour?” Choso asks you in a dull monotone.

Your face scrunches up slightly before you shrug, “I was thirsty…”

Choso stares at you for a long moment, glances at Gojo, then back to you with a scoff, “Yeah, clearly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean-,” You’re cut off by Choso taking his eyes off of you and receiving his card back from Gojo, the two men making eye contact once more and both looking as if the other had done something to offend them. Your best friend openly scoffs in Gojo’s face before pocketing his card and turning away, quickly walking out of the establishment.

Your eyes go wide, “Choso, wait!” You call out as your eyes followed him walking away from you. Only to be ignored again, you let out a huff and start to walk after him but turn back to Gojo one last time, “Sorry about him.”

Gojo’s expression seems to light back up a bit and he shrugs, “You’re fine.”

You nod and start turning away before remembering something and looking at Gojo yet again, slightly pointing at him, “You owe me a free drink by the way,” You remind him playfully.

His face is twisting right back up into that intrigued expression from earlier, “Do I now? And what for?”

“Your shitty handwriting of course,” You hum.

"Hm," He takes a second to think before letting out a slight huff. You then feel and watch the way his eyes glide up and down your body before he responds to you, "Alright."

And with that, both of you smile at one another one last time before you go running off to catch up with Choso. Gojo watches you almost in some kinda trance as you leave, spotting more customers approaching but ignoring them for the most part as his gaze remains glued to you until you’re completely out of his line of vision.

Then, he lets out this breathy little sigh, “Fuck…” Moving to wipe his face off as if that’ll rid himself of whatever the hell he’s feeling after talking to you.

He didn’t even get to ask you for your number like he wanted to…

With perfect timing, “Satoru, the-”

“Filters, yeah yeah, I got it,” Gojo cuts Geto off completely, turning around to see his friend emerging from the back as they both swap places due to the approaching rush hour.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

Outside, you were met with a slap of heat as soon as you exited the cafe, your eyes searching the area for Choso. A slight breeze of refreshing wind brushes over your skin as you finally spot the man having not gotten too far away.

Barely managing to catch up to him, you nudge Choso on his arm as soon as you meet his side, “Why’d you pay for my drink? I could’ve done that myself.”

Just as he did earlier inside the cafe, he acts as though you’re not even there, keeping his gaze forward and pretending he didn’t hear a single thing you just said.

“Choso? Hello??” You huff out, nudging him on his arm again.

His lip twitches into a scowl and he just barely side-eyes you, “What?”

You ignore all of his attitude, as you typically do, “Why’d you pay?”

“You’re a walking charity case,” Choso hums all too casually.

Your head goes back and you scoff, “I-, what? No, I’m not!” Then the back of your hand is landing on his arm as you hit him and he almost smiles.

Finding amusement in your reaction, he shrugs, “Yeah you are,” And before you can even try to get a response out, the cup of coffee in your hand is stripped from your grasp faster than you could blink. Choso removes the top and takes a sip, “Ew, you like this shit?” He scowls, placing the top right back on and handing you your drink back.

You blink, struggling to process a logical reasoning behind his action, “First off, no one told your ass to take a sip. And secondly-”

“I wanted to know what you got,” Choso cuts off, glancing at you to watch how quickly you get annoyed by him.

You groan, “You could’ve asked if that was the case.” He shrugs your words off and you roll your eyes at him, “And how the hell did you know I was in there anyway?”

“I didn’t,” Choso tells you, “I always go in there but today I happened to see your short ass at the counter when I walked in.”

You’re quick to shoot him a glare, “Stop that, I’m not short.”

He’s got this arrogant little grin on his face, “Look short t’me.”

“That’s because you’re taller than me, which doesn’t make you tall in general nor does it make me short.” You explain to the man simply with your eyes shooting daggers into the side of his face.

Choso continues to act as though you’re not even looking at him, “Being shorter than me makes you short-”

“And y’know what,” You cut off, tearing your eyes off of your overly bothersome friend, “You’re annoying.”

He cocks his head back, “Annoying? I’m annoying?” Finally, he looks at you, now searching the side of your face for answers.

“Yeah, very.” You hum.

Choso scoffs and then sizes you up and down, “Says the one who was gawkin’ over Gojo Satoru of all people.”

You nearly laugh, “Fucks’ that supposed to mean? How would that make me annoying?”

“He’s a weirdo,” Choso shrugs, pocketing his hands as he faces forward once more, “I can’t understand what you could possibly find attractive about him.”

You blink and both of you slow down in the pace of your steps, “I talked to him for less than ten minutes, how was I supposed to know he’s weird. And wait-, how does me finding him attractive even annoy you?”

Your best friend sighs and his words come out all too casually for them to be so offensive, “Cause when he breaks your heart,” Choso looks at you, “You’ll come bitchin’ to me about it.”

At that, you freeze, quickly turning to meet his gaze, “Who says he’ll break my heart? And bitching? Is that what you call me talking to you about my relationship issues?? Bitching? Seriously?” With your eyes narrowed and brows tightly knit together, Choso should’ve sensed that he struck a nerve there.

Yet, he seems to not care in the slightest, blinking as if he’d said nothing wrong, “Fuck else am I supposed to call it? I warn you about every guy you date but you don’t ever listen to me.”

Your face twists up, “That doesn’t make my complaints ‘bitching’…”

“Well, it makes it fucking annoying,” He hums before pulling his lips into a thin smile— mocking you through facial expressions.

Your brows go up, “Really? Okay then, sorry for ever confiding in you,” You set your eyes straight once more, “I’ll just go find someone else to-”

“You know no one else is gonna put up with your shit the same way I do,” He’s so quick to dismiss your little statement, almost as if the implication of you ever leaving him, in a sense, bothered him.

You scoff matter-of-factly, “That’s not true.”

“It literally is though,” Choso deadpans, “You have one friend and that’s me. Who the hell else are you gonna go rant to, hm?”

“Someone that doesn’t call my rants bitching.” You huff, crossing your arms over one another.

Choso scales his eyes down to your arms and he smiles, “Are you seriously mad about that?”

“Maybe,” You shrug.

His feet come to a stop and you follow suit, turning to avoid his eyes as much as possible. Choso stares at you for a moment before leaning toward you, tilting his head and angling his lips toward your ear.

All of which done so he could whisper to you, “M’sorry, princess,” Choso murmurs to you affectionately, “Y’know I didn’t mean that seriously, I’m jus’ fuckin’ with you.”

You remain unphased for a mere moment more before the constant brush of his breath against your skin makes you shudder, your hands moving to his chest to push him away, “Yeah, whatever… And stop calling me that.”

Choso blinks, feeling confused since you act as if he hadn’t been calling you such a thing for years, “Why?”

“Cause I don’t like it…” You so clearly lie— not that you enjoyed the nickname but more so that you’ve always felt indifferent to it. Or, almost always.

He smirks, “Your face is telling me an entirely different story.”

“Yeah?” You chuckle, moving to shoot your middle finger at him, “And what story does this tell you?’

Choso stares into your eyes for a long period of time before looking to your finger, smiling fully and tilting his head again, “…You wanna fuck me?”

Immediately putting your finger down, your brows tense, “What? No!” You exclaim, groaning as you return to your walking, “God, I cannot stand you.”

He laughs and follows right alongside you, “You’re so easy to annoy, holy shit.”

“And you’re insufferable,” You huff.

Choso shrugs simply, “You love me though.”

You glance at him, “Debatable.”

He pouts and pretends to clutch his heart, “Ouch-”

“Anyway,” Returning your attention to someone much less annoying than the man beside you, you nod your head back toward the cafe, “Do you know if he’s single?”

Choso nearly trips over his steps at the sound of that, letting out a cough, “Who-, Gojo??”

You nod, “Mhm.”

“Why?” Choso’s lips twitch, “You lookin’ to get rejected?”

Pausing, you look to him with a quirked brow, “Excuse me? What makes you think I’ll get rejected?”

“You’re uh…” He trails off a little, eyes lingering down your frame before he smiles and speaks to you in this faux gentle whisper, “Not his type, sweetie.”

Your eyes roll at that, “Okay, first of all, fuck you. Secondly, how do you know?”

“Uh, I’ve seen the kinda girls he’s into so trust me when I say…” Choso’s eyes shift to peer directly into yours, “It ain’t you.”

You stare back for a moment before shaking your head and looking off, “Whatever, you’re just saying that.”

“Yeah because I’m gonna lie to you about something like that,” He snickers to himself before rolling his eyes. Within seconds, he goes to look at you again only to see you heading in a different direction, “Hey! Where’re you goin’?”

“Away from you!” You call back.

He laughs yet again, “What, you can’t handle the truth now?”

Glancing back to him, “I’m gonna prove you wrong asshole.”

Choso flashes you a shit-eating grin as if he’s already begun praying on your downfall, “Sure you will.”

He then watches as you further away from him, his smile steadily fading as he catches himself a bit too happy at the sight of you so determined. Choso shrugs off whatever feeling the topic of Gojo Satoru had brought up within him, dismissing the entire thing as he truly believed you’d never really get yourself too involved with that guy.

Unfortunately for him, he didn’t see the way you were taking to Gojo before he walked in so, Choso had no idea of how things were about to play out within the next few hours.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

As such, after that morning class of yours that extended decently into the afternoon, you found yourself rushing back to the cafe as soon as you could.

You knew not of Gojo’s working hours so you had no clue whether or not he’d still be there but you sure as hell hoped so. Choso had really ticked you off with his claims.

You not being Gojo’s type? Yeah right, he didn’t see the way that cashier was looking at you, nor did he hear all the banter that took place. Given that, you were determined to prove your dear friend wrong and yourself right. You know flirting when you see it and that’s exactly what Gojo was doing.

So to say he wasn’t at least intrigued by you would be a blatant lie you had every hope on exposing to Choso.

When you finally find yourself entering that lovely little cafe, it’s a lot more busy in comparison to earlier— something you take note of for your possible future visits. The line wasn’t exactly too long but quite a few people were hanging out or studying throughout the establishment.

That aside, your eyes were quick to search for a certain white-haired barista, gaze lighting up the very second it meets the man it questions.

Gojo had a weary smile on his face as he handed some girl a coffee and you could tell based on his eyes alone that he was tired of the chick rambling to him. He nodded and nodded, trying to keep himself appearing entertained by whatever she was saying but when he glances over and spots you, all his attention is diverted.

Those pretty blue eyes of his fixate on you and you watch as he finally dismisses the girl, nodding toward you as if to say he had another customer to tend to. She shrugs and finally leaves, to which you take place in standing where she’d been seconds ago, sending a smile to Gojo.

“Long day?” You suggest with a slight tilt of your head, to which he nods.

“You have no idea,” Gojo sighs out to you, “You’re back sooner than I expected though.”

He didn’t know what it was about you, perhaps the way you gaze at him, but there was something that kept his eyes lingering on yours far longer than normal— something that genuinely lulled him in. Perhaps it was the natural flow of conversation and how even from earlier, you didn’t really feel like a mere customer but instead just a person, a woman at that-, a very pretty woman, might he add.

“You owe me a free drink, remember?” You remind him, earning a different reaction than expected.

Gojo pauses, “Ohh… About that…” He hums, moving to scratch the back of his neck, “Yeah see, that offer no longer stands…”

You blink, “I’m not sure I understand…”

He lets out a sigh, then moves to lean forward against the counter, bending down and crossing his arms as he rests on his elbows and comes much closer to your eye level, “Another cute girl came in ‘nd got it before you,” Gojo whispers.

You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not and your brows pinch together, “Seriously?”

“Mmhmm,” He hums tauntingly with this smug look on his face as if to say giving away your promised drink was to get back at you for something.

“Well,” You click your tongue, “I think you owe me a free drink now more than before, maybe two.”

Gojo smiles, feeling amused, “Yeah? I mean, my number’s free. Y’want that instead?”

Your voice gets caught in your throat at how ridiculously smooth that was, trying your hardest not to give in and return a smile. “I… What am I supposed to do with that?” You end up asking.

He snickers, “Perhaps text me? Or call? Y’know, the thing you do with phones-“

“Alright smart ass,” You scoff playfully, grinning as you move to pull out your phone, “What’s your number then?”

Gojo smiles triumphantly and extends his hand out, “Here, lemme put it in for ya’.”

You glance at him, eyes meeting and yet another moment passing before you hand him your phone, to which he takes a second to look down at the device in his hands. Then, he enters his number and a contact name for himself.

After which, your cell is quickly returned to you and you look to see what he’s put in. Studying the name closely, you tilt your head, “Satoru?”

“Mhm, tha’s me, sweetheart,” He purrs, moving to rest his cheek against his knuckles.

You look up from your phone, “You want me to call you Satoru?”

Gojo shrugs, “If you don’t mind, yeah.”

“We’re on a first-name basis already?” You tease, eyes narrowing at the man.

“It seems we are,” He utters. His voice was a bit lower with you now, much more casual and playful. “That alright with you, pretty girl?”

Unknowingly, your face flushes, “Yeah, that’s uh, that’s fine.”

Gojo lets out a hum, “Good.” Then, the two of you do that thing yet again, peering into one another's eyes, unmoving, nearly frozen and dazed for a moment longer than intended before Gojo snaps out of it by almost awkwardly clearing his throat, “So uh, you still want that free drink or…?”

You blink out of your own stupor and shake your head, “No, I’ll come back for it tomorrow.”

“Oh?” His brows shoot up in surprise, “You’re coming back tomorrow?”

“It seems I am, yes,” A smile graces your face and he can’t help but stare.

Gojo mirrors your expression, “Just for coffee?”

Your eyes wander off to the side cheekily, “Perhaps for a certain handsome cashier too…”

He thinks his heart is fluttering. Is this normal? To experience such a genuine infatuation with a woman’s words within less than twenty-four hours? It was unusual for Gojo, that’s for damn sure. Hence why his head is tipping to the side, “Really? Have my charms worked so soon?” He teases.

You return your gaze to him, “Just a little, yeah.”

Mesmerized by you, Gojo nods, “Good to know.”

“Mhm,” After a slight hum, you glance down at your phone and check the time, “Well uh, I actually have another class so I should probably go.”

“Yes… Yes, you should,” He voices out slowly, again entangled into that daze of his until you lift your head once more, “But uh, make sure you text me later, yeah?” Gojo reminds you.

To which you chuckle and start turning away toward the exit, “No promises.”

He’s left in a mere awe of you, not even knowing what to say, and left utterly speechless from such an intriguing yet simple conversation with you. As you wave bye, Gojo had to feel for his heart the very second you leave just to see if it was working correctly because he’s not sure what the hell that was just now.

Whatever it may have been, he knows it was much more genuine and raw than what he’s typically used to. And it came so naturally too, the banter, the gazes, the flirting… Gojo was longing for more already and he’d only just met you a few hours ago.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

All the while you’re just as cheerful at the interaction you just had, beyond ready to brag to your doubtful best friend of your most recent accomplishments.

Which is exactly why you’re facetiming said friend as soon as you leave the cafe. The call rings for less than a second before it’s answered and you’re met with a visibly displayed and… shirtless Choso.

Before you get the chance to even try and take in his naked torso, he’s already scowling at you, “The fuck are you facetiming me for?” He grumbles, taking the smile right off of your lips, “I’ve seen your face enough for one day. Why don’t you ever call like a normal person??”

You bat your eyelashes at the man, “Cho, we just got on the phone and you’re already souring the mood…”

He ignores your complaint, “What do you want?”

Steadily, your smile returns, “Guess who got a certain someone’s number,” You utter cheerfully, voice light in a little sing-song tone.

Choso gives his phone a blank stare, not saying a single word in response to that.

Which confused you, “Well? Are you gonna guess-“

“You could’ve texted me this shit,” He cuts off before you watch as your screen is soon met with the ceiling as he places his phone down.

You pout, “Well, yeah but then I wouldn’t have been able to see your reaction…”

He scoffs and pops his face into the camera for a second, eyes dull, smile nonexistent, eye bags heavy, and tattoo running across his nose the only thing giving some form of expression despite it being nothing more than a dark black line. “Does it look like I give two shits about you gettin’ some asshole’s number?”

You let out a long sigh, “Remind me why we’re friends again?”

And that’s when Choso seems to smirk, “Cause’ you won’t leave me alone.”

“I’m hanging up,” You groan.

His laughter, albeit somewhat of a rare sound, fills your ears, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

You send him a look, “Are you?”

“Mhm, good job on gettin’ his number, princess,” Choso coos, making your eyes widen, “I’m proud of you.”

Your mouth opens to say something to that but your throat runs oddly dry. Instead, you gulp down his sudden praise and ignore how warm his words make you feel. “…Thank you.” You eventually say.

“Uhuh,” Choso nods before removing himself from the camera again, “Pretty sure he’s just trying to fuck though.” He says bluntly.

Instead of choking like he expected you to, you only scoff, “Fine by me.”

Your best friend is quiet for a moment, feeling almost silenced before he sighs, “Oh… But you told me no-“

“That was entirely different, Choso.” You cut off.

He shuts up again.

“You were drunk, and…” Your voice dies out.

To which he raises a brow at his phone, “And what?”

“And things were different back then,” You sigh, trying not to recall the entirety of your past with Choso at the present moment, “…You were an even bigger asshole, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Choso sighs, moving to dismiss the topic, “Anyway, let me know how things go with your new albino boyfriend.”

You scoff, smiling at the suggestion itself, “He’s not even my-“

The call disconnects. Oh how you just love your best friend and his antics. You wouldn’t trade your friendship with him for anything.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself anyway. What exactly does a new man in your life bring if not drama? This right here was but the beginning of a very interesting journey toward such a fickle emotion we know as; love.

mlist | next chapter |

Tags 1/2; @siriusblackswankourtzeyy @eternaltpaoe @moonsgravee @sooshisweet @looking4hina

@blognicole @designerpvssy @andyfasia @shytragedybluefox @papigotwap

@senseifupa @gojoslefttoenail @juliiizh @gojos-cumslutt @lovergirl65

@sydlunamoon-blog @gojstrulxvezx @gigiipeaches @kivrumi @urunclesbottomlip

@iseeyouuu @annieleonhardtsbitch @lwkykiyo @itsbellablue-blog @gorouenjoyer

@mua-for-now @bee3l0v3r @scarletteyuno @lilablogsblog @lolznoelle

@madaqueue @keriaonmarz @parakisssss @aniniyah @trx-xrt

@sxnkuna @chocolatecheer @unibrow-yzz @lovely-lady-tits @woofzz2

@pineapplepan7 @janrcrosssing @hauntedchoso @linksylove @lemonninq

@littlemug00 @namjoonie17717 @notjustagirlinthisworld @moonneversleeps @k4rma1sntd3ad

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 9 months ago

Text

[I almost killed your boss with my grilled cheese sandwich]- Mafia!TF141*F!Reader

Summary: You sigh when it's the fifth time someone fights in your poor tea shop this month. You just open it two months ago, in an area ruled by mafia called '141'. Maybe you should find their boss and give them money or what to stop the bullshit keeps happening in your shop. (well, here they come)

Mafia!TF141*F!Reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

After the unexpected encounter with Soap and Ghost, your shop finally owns the vibes of peace.

The customers become so ‘normal’, almost feels like you aren’t in the same area as before – if you ignore the blood on their shirts or recall the memory of seeing them punching someone across the street. You assume the men must tell them to behave in your shop, but you must say the minions become a bit overreacting. They call you ma'am, chat as quietly as possible, and one of them even apologizes when he accidentally touches your finger as if you will chop off his pinky. You start doubting if they view you as a secret henchman of 141.

It’s morning now, the shop usually has more people at this time, but you haven’t had a single customer since you opened it 30 minutes ago, they just vanished without any hint, hence you start testing out new recipes for your bread.

Lilting the song that’s fully out of tune, you slice the bread you just baked into pieces, and throw one into your mouth. Perfectly crunchy outside, fluffy like clouds inside. Oh my, you’re such a genius.

You’re totally unaware of your visitor until he stirs the air with a cough and his voice.

“Pardon me?” He calls you again, but you’re left in a trance when you land your eyes on him.

Damn, he looks just like your imagination of the man in the Dilf next door fic you just read yesterday on co5. Your eyes travel from his well-trim beard, south to his belted waist. Why does a man with a toned body – which his khaki coat can’t even hide – have such a tiny waist? Your mouth's agape at the sight as you’re about to respond.

“mmsadjsmm” The man raises his eyebrow in confusion, and you hear your voice not forming a proper sentence too. Ah, you forgot the bread’s still stuffed in your mouth.

“ehemm, Sorry Sir, I mean what would you like to have?” Quickly swallow the bread and try to pretend you didn’t just dumbfounded in front of him, you speak again.

“English breakfast, please.” He croons with an infatuating smile as he saunters to take a seat.

His voice is quite soothing, you admit in your mind as you start brewing said man’s tea, just like you presumed the Dilf in the fic… okay, you really should clear those nasty brainrots during work.

The tea is nicely served in the tea cup and brought to the man shortly after.

You can’t help the smile crawling onto your face when you see him grin at you after a sip. You love watching your customer enjoy your tea, and he obviously relaxes with it have you bask in your achievements.

“Don’t finish your breakfast?”

“Just trying a new recipe. I want to add it to my menu.” you reply with a shake of your head, and after a brief halt, you add a question “ Have you eaten breakfast yet, Sir”

“Call me John, love.” The man – John sets his cup on the table before continuing “And no, I haven’t”

“Then… would you like to have a grilled cheese sandwich? I can’t finish the bread myself, it would be great if someone could help me with it... Of course, it isn’t a must!" You hurriedly complement when John widens his eyes slightly at your suggestion, but he meets your eyes with interest within.

”I would love to.”

You beam up as you get the affirmation, and walk behind your counter again.

Slices of bread are already prepared. The pro tip for a delicious grilled cheese sandwich is giving the bread some nice seasoning first, so you pick up your black pepper jar before inquiring about John’s preference.

“How much pepper would you like, John?”

“Would be great if it’s more.”

“Alright.”

You turn back to season the bread, but when you pick up the pepper jar and about to shake it, a question slips into your brain making you pause.

How much is “more”?

The man doesn't have time to sit here and wait for you to contemplate the philosophy of seasoning, so after biting your bottom lip and thinking for 30 seconds, you shake the jar. More is better, you recall what John told you as your hand keeps moving.

You shake it 10 times, since more is better.

Apart from the bread, you hold full confidence in your grilled cheese sandwich. Placing generous amounts of cheese in between, the coveted smell flooded your little shop as you plate the well-toasted sandwich.

“It surely smells great.” John praises before diving in.

You hang a big expecting grin until John takes a bite and starts coughing like you will put him into the ER with a sandwich.

“It’s– it’s okay…love…” He tries to comfort you when you apologize abundantly and rush back to your counter to fill him a cup of water. Holy, isn’t more pepper better? Now you're going to send the man to heaven with a grilled cheese sandwich.

“Here’s water!” You go back to John as fast as you can with the cold water in your hand, you’re busy checking out John, who stops coughing madly but cheeks pink with the spices, and you don’t see the leg of the chair sticking out of its usual place.

A pair of arms catch you from slamming onto the floor, but the cup isn’t that lucky as it flies with Newton’s help and clatters on the floor.

“Shit! I’m so sorry!” You stabilize yourself in John’s support. But wow, now the man not only just recovered from a fatal attack to his throat, but also has a wet spot spreading along the chest part of his shirt.

“No worries, love. It’s just a shirt.”

Even though John attempts to calm you, you still can’t help the sheepishness creep to your cheeks and stain it with the same pink as John’s, or stop thinking about if the balance in your bank account is able to buy the man a new shirt. You remember you wanted to get some cash out of the cashpoint but it shoved an ‘insufficient funds :(‘ into your face.

You really don’t want any customers to come in right now, even if it means your little tea shop will close down because you only have one from the start of today, but fate always gifts you things you crave when you don’t need them.

“Sorry boss, I’m late.”

You look at the tan-skinned man standing like a model just escaped from his manager, staring at you shoving a towel on John’s chest and both of your cheeks smeared with suspicious red.

“What happened?”

I almost murdered your boss with my grilled cheese sandwich. Apparently, you can’t answer with this, so you face John for help.

and he’s looking at you too, with a sly smirk awaiting your explanation.

You wonder if you can just make two sandwiches to shut these men up, with one more for yourself to end this predicament now.

a/n: ty for reading :D have a nice day/night!

No John Price is harmed in this chapter.

tag list :D - @blackhawkfanatic @nexthyperfix @danielle143

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ma-yawntu · 8 months ago

Text

mine, all mine.

chapter one: paradigm

pairing: neteyam x female!metkayina!reader

summary: You had your routine down to a fine art until he and his family threw a wrench in the works.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: mentions of injury, weapons, sneaking out, you're a menace fr. NO USE OF Y/N!!!

now playing... home by good neighbours

metkayina face claims

chapter two

It was early in the morning, long before the sun peeked over the horizon and bathed the village of Awa’atlu in a soft golden hue. You were silent as you crept toward the entrance to your family’s marui, placing your feet ever so carefully as to not disturb your siblings and parents and undoubtedly cop a string of questions as to why exactly you were up so early. You’d lie your way out of it, as usual, but you would remain under suspicion for far too long. But by now, you had this sneaking out business down to a fine art. Your mother’s duties as Tsahik had her awake fairly early most mornings and your father– well, you were sure the entire village knew when he was asleep given his occasional thunderous snores that you heard even in your dreams (or nightmares depending on your persuasion).

There was a short expanse of time when both your parents slept soundly and you could get away uninterrupted and unsupervised for secret little training sessions with one of the village elders, Teyoa, who was a total thorn in your side but he was the only one who agreed to train you. Your father was sure there was no need for such things as learning to fight or use an array of weapons for anything other than hunting– the Metkayina were not at war. But even from a young age, you were fascinated by the stories of warriors and the battle with the great Toruk Makto that the elders would secretly tell the children. You were sure you wanted to be a warrior, fight to defend your people. But being the oldest daughter of the Tsahik and Olo’eyktan meant there was a heavy responsibility on your shoulders. You were the tsakarem, destined to be the Tsahik one day– a far cry from your dream of being a warrior.

Then there was the total mess of having to be mated one day, you considered that to be absolutely appalling– of course, your mother would scoff and tell you off for being dramatic– but you did not want to be mated to some random boy in the village, all of which you had the utter displeasure of growing up with for the most part. You dreaded the day you passed your Iknimaya– which was a breeze by the way– but it also meant you would be an adult, able to be courted and approached by the absolute meatheads that lived in your village.

“He’s a nice boy,” your mother would comment as you rolled your eyes so far back you saw your equally displeased brain.

“He also gave Ao’nung a bald patch when we were children,” you scoffed, pulling on the intricate and almost suffocating neck piece your mother insisted you wear when boys began courting you.

“Must you have an excuse for everything?” Ronal would sigh, pressing her hands together as if praying to Eywa for the strength to not throttle her eldest child.

“Mother, A’tok is boring at best. Father would not approve of him being the next Olo’eyktan,” you would reply with a shrug, finally untying the neck piece and replacing it with the simple beaded one Tsireya had made for you many eclipses ago.

“Eywa, give me strength,” Ronal would mutter, eyes glancing up at the sky as she returned to the healing tent to tend to the wounded hunters.

Your parents were sure you made it impossible on purpose. You would avoid courting boys from the village like the plague, using your sister or tsakarem duties as an excuse almost every time. But Tsireya loved love; she would point out some of the cute village boys that came to court you, noting the gifts they had bought or their kind demeanour– she was too sweet for her own good. You had dirt on almost everyone, noting the times some of the older boys had bullied Ao’nung or bad mouthed your sister or parents– you held a grudge.

Your mother tried to busy you with tsakarem duties if you were so adamant on borderline bullying the Metkayina boys into leaving you alone. You found it boring at times, wishing you were out hunting or practising your weaponry skills with Teyoa. Of course, you wanted to honour your family and your clan, but you wanted to learn to defend the land and your spirit brothers and sisters the tulkun too. Interpreting the will and Eywa and being a healer wasn’t exactly where all the action was. Tsireya would have been a better tsakarem than you. You had heard of villages where sisters lead their clan alongside each other as Olo’eyktan and Tsahik– you would lead them in flesh and your sister could lead them in spirit. But that’s not how the Metkayina did things and Eywa forbid you mess with tradition.

So you paid attention for the most part, learned to look for ripe fruits, herbs and created healing balms and practise healing techniques. But you found it so uninteresting and boring, but you loved your people and your parents, so biting your tongue and carrying on would be enough for now.

But it only lasted so long before you wanted to sit at the bottom of the reef in an act of protest and ignore your never ending list of responsibility as the tsakarem. When you went around begging some of the elder warriors to train you, they feared the wrath of your parents (mostly your mother) and told you to stop behaving like a child. Teyoa thought you were amusing and decided to teach you, but his teaching methods were weird and required the patience you simply did not have.

“I do not see how hitting this poor defenceless bag of sand is effective,” you would grumble, burying the end of your staff into the sand, leaning on the thick weapon. Teyoa circled around you as you ‘fought’ this bag of sand, not even using a ‘real’ weapon as you so eloquently put it.

“You must be patient, child. A good warrior and hunter is patient,” he lectured, picking the staff up out of the sand and handing it to you. “Again.”

You let out a sound of annoyance before you forced the stance Teyoa had ingrained into the fabric of your soul, holding the staff toward your enemy (bag of sand) and beginning your usual fighting techniques. Teyoa had his arms crossed as he watched you, studying your form. You had a strong heart and will, always wanting to prove yourself and while he had never seen someone with such a keen heart, you were impatient but he was sure you would see it one day.

Your hands were always covered in blisters and small bruises from your training with Teyoa. He told you that warriors had tough hands, they needed the strength to wield any weapon and battle any odds. Your eyes would sparkle at the thought and you were always proud of the injuries from your hard work– though hiding it from your parents proved to be a challenge in itself. Teyoa knew he could probably get into trouble for teaching the Olo’eyktan’s daughter to fight, but you were so adamant and protective of your people, it was hard to say no.

That was the routine most days– rise early to train with Teyoa and be back before your parents even realised you were gone. You had gotten better at fighting, you would easily hold yourself in a fight and wanted to prove yourself to your father but seeking out a fight wasn’t exactly the mark of a good warrior.

“Where are you going?” Tsireya asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. She rubbed her eyes tiredly and you stopped dead in your tracks, turning painfully slowly to face your little sister.

“Nowhere,” you replied pathetically.

She gave you a look of confusion as her gaze shifted from your head to your feet. Your tail twitched anxiously as she watched you, “it doesn’t look like you’re going nowhere.”

“Go back to sleep, Reya,” you whispered, heading toward the entrance of your family’s marui. Tsireya stood up from her mat, wrapping her arms around herself as she met you in the middle of the marui.

“I see you do this every morning, sister. You’re worrying me,” she pouted. You sighed softly in defeat, turning to face your sister.

“I’m seeing a boy–”

“Lie.”

“I do not lie,” you replied, offended.

“You lie all the time,” Tsireya retorted, “and you do not like any of the Metkayina boys. I see through your lie and I demand you tell me the truth,” she said a little louder.

You sighed, running your hands down your face. It was impossible to lie to your sister, she knew you too well. “I’ve been training with Teyoa.”

Tsireya battled with the confession for a moment, “the old warrior?” she questioned.

“Yes, he’s been teaching me,” you replied.

“Mother and father will not be happy,” Tsireya commented, folding her arms over her chest.

“I’m aware, hence the leaving at stupid times in the morning,” you said with a huff. Tsireya gave you that look she always gave when she was worried and you felt your heart squeeze. “I am careful, Reya. He has taught me many things, I feel I can defend our people and– and the tulkun.”

“We are not at war,” she quickly said, grabbing your hands and squeezing them in her own. “You do not need to fight. We are safe here–”

“The tulkun go missing, Reya. The other clans speak of their spirit brothers and sisters disappearing, I cannot let that happen,” you replied, holding Tsireya’s hands tightly. She looked at you with such worry in her eyes. “I feel it,” you said quietly, “I feel something is wrong, that something is coming.”

“You cannot be sure,” Tsireya sighed, shaking her head.

“I am the future Tsahik, sister. I think I know when Eywa speaks,” you teased.

“You would be a good Tsahik,” she said after a beat, knowing how you felt about your duties as tsakarem. You smile at her words, cupping her cheek softly. She knew how you felt about your tsakarem duties, wishing so desperately to be a warrior instead of a healer. But you were soft when you wanted to be, she was convinced you would be an excellent Tsahik one day.

“I must go,” you whispered, letting go of her hands.

“Be careful,” Tsireya sighed, “you cannot be so sneaky forever.”

You turned around just before stepping outside your family’s marui, “watch me.”

You sat on the beach of the neighbouring island of Awa’atlu. Your legs were covered in sand as you worked on crafting your heavy bow. Metkayina preferred to use spears, but Teyoa taught you how to make a bow, a dying art in his opinion. You had been working on it for a couple of days in secret, not wanting your parents to find out you were spending your time making weapons instead of learning to perfect your healing techniques.

“Looks good,” Teyoa commented, holding a spear and woven basket of fish in his hands. You glanced up at him and let out a sigh.

“I cannot get the string tight enough, hardly a weapon for a warrior if you ask me,” you huffed, your fingers red and tired from the thin string that was steadily starting to wear at your poor fingers from how hard you’d been trying to pull it taut.

Teyoa silently sat beside you on the sand, the heavily tattooed elder Metkayina fixing your sloppy handiwork in a matter of seconds. “Now it is a weapon fit for a warrior,” he grinned as he handed it to you. You stood up, feeling the weight of it in your hand. “It will take some getting used to–”

You lifted one of your crafted arrows, pulling the string taut before releasing it on an unsuspecting fish in the shallows of the reef. You ran toward the water, pulling the fish out with a grin on your face. Teyoa began to laugh softly.

“You overachieve,” he shook his head.

“Was that a compliment?” You teased.

“Hardly, child,” he chuckled.

You practised your aiming skills in the shade of the forest, Teyoa occasionally correctly you but leaving you to practise for the most part. You definitely lost track of time because by the time you returned to the beach, the sun had risen over the vast horizon of Pandora, a grim reminder of the fact your parents were definitely awake and you were definitely not in the village.

“Oh, Eywa, no!” You almost yelled as you started running toward the beach, clicking your tongue to get your ilu’s attention. Teyoa stayed behind, picking up his woven basket full of fish he had caught earlier and watching as you scrambled through the water.

“I’d like to see you lie yourself out of this one!” Teyoa sang from behind you. He never took much seriously, he was too old (his words) to care much about ‘getting in trouble’. You, however, cared a lot.

You dipped into the water with your ilu, quickly making tsaheylu as you tore through the water back toward your village– you were so dead and while your sister would try to cover for you; Tsireya was a pretty bad liar. Your ilu zipped through the coral reefs, pushing itself as hard as the poor animal could for your sake. You quickly surfaced, taking in a deep breath of air when you heard it– the loud horn you knew all too well.

That horn meant a few things: the tulkun were back, a ceremony was beginning or someone was missing, and given where you were and the fact that your parents had no idea, you were sure it was the latter. You dipped back before the surface, hoping and praying to Eywa your mother wouldn’t skin you for this one.

You swam in through a small opening in the twisting branches around the reef, watching as your village gathered on the sandbank, probably copping a not-so-subtle interrogation from your father about your whereabouts before he sent out the search party.

You definitely couldn’t lie your way out of this one.

Tsireya shifted anxiously as she stood by her brother, glancing around the crowd for you. She only half listened to her father as he spoke to these strangers from the forest, their sudden appearance in their village frightening the Metkayina. They were seeking uturu and while your father seemed to consider the idea, your mother scoffed at such an ask.

After a few uncomfortable minutes, Tonowari made the decision to let Jake Sully and his family stay in their village. Tsireya knew it would be difficult for them as forest Na’vi learning the way of water, but she was eager to teach.

“Our children, Ao’nung, Tsireya and…” Tonowari let out a sigh as his eyes fell on only his two youngest, with you nowhere to be seen. Tsireya winced uncomfortably at her father’s gaze. He looked around for a moment before finishing, “they will teach your children our ways.”

“Where is your sister?” Ronal asked, pulling on Tsireya’s arm. Tsireya felt like she was going to explode, unable to form a single coherent thought that wouldn’t totally expose your little routine.

“I am here!” Your voice broke out across the beach, the crowd parting for you as you made your way toward your parents. You were out of breath, your chest huffing up and down and your hair a soaked mess from your panicked race home. “Mother, I am sorry, I–” You trailed off at the sight of foreigners in your village. You recognised them as forest Na’vi– why would forest Na’vi be here? There were six of them; a family.

The forest was exceedingly far from your home in the reef and the family before you looked noticeably tired from their journey and you could only imagine how out of place they felt in your village. The youngest forest Na’vi looked at you curiously, hiding behind her father’s leg as she watched you, you smiled softly, the little Na’vi grinning back and holding her father’s leg.

“My daughter,” your father said, your attention snapping back to him, “how nice of you to join us.”

You winced at the comment, some of the younger Metkayina snickering at the comment, your brother doing the same. Tsireya swatted at his arm, effectively shutting him up. You stepped toward your father, “Father, I–”

He held his hand up, silencing you. You were going to hear about this later, you were absolutely sure of it. “Help your sister move Jake Sully and his family into their marui,” he said lowly, to which you nodded, not daring to argue with him. “I want you to teach their children our ways,” he looked at Jake Sully and his family, “so they do not suffer the shame of being useless.”

Your father gave you a look, a look that silently asked you where you’d been while simultaneously telling you he didn’t want to hear it. Tsireya came to your rescue, quickly grabbing your hand and turning to smile at the forest Na’vi. “Come. We will show you our village.”

You walked alongside Tsireya through your village, watching as she peaked behind her occasionally at what you assumed was the youngest of Jake Sully’s sons. You followed her gaze, grinning softly at your adorable sister. She caught you watching her, becoming embarrassed.

“What?” She questioned, completely unprompted.

“I said nothing,” you replied, trying not to laugh. You carried a few of the Sully’s belongings to the empty marui near the edge of the village, at least you could give them a little bit of privacy while they adjust to their new home.

Tsireya shuffled into their marui, placing their things down, “this will be your new home,” she grinned sweetly. You trailed behind her, finally getting a good look at the entire forest family. You stared at them curiously, noticing their thin tails and arms, their darker blue skin and piercing yellow eyes. You had never seen Na’vi like this before and it intrigued you.

“Thank you, this is nice, right?” Jake turned to his mate and children, smiling through his wince as his mate dropped the rolled hide on the floor with a huff. Jake turned to you and your sister, “Thank you, Tsireya and… I’m sorry I don’t think I caught your name.”

Your ears perked at the sudden attention on you and you quickly told him your name, bowing your head softly. Your tail swished behind you as Jake introduced his family to you and your sister, “my mate, Neytiri,” she seemed displeased with the arrangement and was rather… intimidating. “My daughters Tuk and Kiri.” Tuk waved happily at you, to which you returned with a small smile while her sister Kiri seemed uncomfortable, pulling on the corners of her shawl. “And my sons Lo’ak and Neteyam.”

Tsireya smiled at the ground as Lo’ak caught her eye, smiling softly at your sister. But your eyes lingered on his oldest son, Neteyam. He watched you curiously and he was hard to read, he looked you up and down and you almost frowned. You stared back at him for a fleeting moment, wondering what his problem was.

“Right, well,” Tsireya said, pulling your attention to her, “we will leave you to settle and get some rest, we can go swimming in the reef later on,” she smiled politely, nodding her head as she grabbed your arm, pulling you out of their marui.

You felt Neteyam looking at you as you left, turning your head to peek back at him. Eywa, what is his problem? You thought, making a face of disdain as you caught up with your sister.

“What’s his problem?” You grumbled. You walked shoulder to shoulder with her as you made your way back to your parents in the middle of the village.

“You mean Neteyam?” Tsireya asked. You gave her a look and she giggled, “he was checking you out!”

“What? No, he wasn’t,” you frowned, a feeling of disgust pooling in your chest. Tsireya nudged your shoulder with a laugh.

“Oh, my sister. You may be a great warrior, a Tsahik in training and have a gift for scaring boys away, but he was definitely checking you out,” Tsireya babbled on and you rolled your eyes. You weren’t exactly unpopular when it came to boys wanting to court you, if anything, you did pretty well for yourself. But you simply weren’t interested in finding a mate any time soon, you were only sixteen, it felt ridiculous to rush into things (even though your parents pestered you about choosing a mate).

“How ridiculous,” you retorted. “He is a forest Na’vi, we are reef Na’vi, I’m sure he was more preoccupied with our staggeringly different appearances,” you attempted to explain the reason for his lingering gaze but your sister really wasn’t having a bar of it.

“Are you saying you didn’t think he was cute?” Tsireya asked, quirking a brow at you. You stopped in your tracks, giving her an unimpressed look. She let out a dramatic gasp, “you do think he’s cute!”

“I do not,” you retorted childishly.

“Do not lie!” She squealed. “I never thought I would see the day!”

“You pain me,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“My sister likes a boy!” She sang.

“I do not like him,” you grumbled as Tsireya danced circles around you with a grin on her face. She tugged on your arm as she jumped up and down with excitement. You would admit that he was cute but you were allowed to admire and ignore– that’s what you did best, because boys are usually cute until they open their big dumb mouths.

a/n: hi! this is my first time writing for avatar, i hope you like it! i know there wasn't much of our teyam in this but there will be more! only if this does well tho :3

dividers by @/cafekitsune

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andypantsx3 · 9 months ago

Text

𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑖𝑖

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike. All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 5.7k | chapter 3 of 4

Then

“I want to climb trees, this is so boring,” Touya complained, face down on the sofa.

You flung a piece of plastic pizza at him, laughing when it bounced off his back. Touya turned to give you the evil eye, daggers in his gaze.

“Keigo and Rumi will be here soon, can you just wait?” you asked.

On your other side, Shouto made an unhappy grunt, leaning out from behind you to give Touya a narrow-eyed little gaze. “Y/N is busy. Do not interrupt,” he said primly.

Touya grunted. “Y/N isn’t yours, you little shit. Y/N is my friend.”

Shouto puffed up next to you, little hand gripping your shirt. “Y/N is mine, Touya.” His mismatched gaze was intense where it fixed on his older brother, like he was trying to set him on fire with his eyeballs.

You shifted in between them with years of long practice, blocking their line of sight. Brothers.

“I really want to play house, if only someone would stop arguing and play with me,” you said, making sure to sound extra pathetic. That always got Shouto.

As expected, he immediately abandoned Touya, patting you as if to reassure you. “Of course I will play with you, Y/N,” he pronounced solemnly, like he was declaring some oath of office.

You snorted, turning back to Shouto’s kitchen playset with him. It had been Touya’s first, several years ago when you first visited the Todoroki house. Back then he still deigned to play with it, bossing you around like the alpha of the house, though you didn’t quite think he was going to grow up as one. Then you’d gotten too old for it, preferring video games or board games or ranging around the neighborhood, up to little good.

Today was a rare day that Keigo was permitted to come out and run around the neighborhood with you, but you had to wait for him to get here first with Rumi. And so you’d allowed Shouto to drag you over to the kitchen set while you waited, he its final owner.

“What shall I make you, Mr. Todoroki?” you asked Shouto, shifting the little plastic frying pan around on the wooden stove top. “I make a mean sliced banana. Or a sandwich, or chicken.”

Shouto moved to sit next to you, peering at his options. “I want to make it with you.”

You smiled. “You don’t want me to cook it for you?”

Shouto shook that mop of scarlet and white hair. “I want to do it together.”

You laughed. “Alright, then how about you cut up the veggies for our sides and our sandwich, and I’ll cook the chicken.”

Shouto laid out a myriad of plastic vegetables on the counter, levering his plastic knife through the velcro in their center with great concentration. You tried not to reach out and pinch his cheek for how cute he was. You didn’t understand how Touya got so annoyed with all his younger siblings when they were this sweet.

You got to work frying your plastic pile of chicken, laying it out on fake plates across the carpet when you were done. Shouto carefully placed the sliced vegetables next to it, and then the two of you bent over the pieces of a sandwich, layering in the plastic onion, tomato, lettuce, and bread.

“Shall we make you up a plate, Touya?” you asked. Touya just flashed you a rude gesture from the couch.

“This is only for you,” Shouto insisted, pushing your plate at you. You grinned down at him, passing over the fake cutlery.

“Well thank you, chef Shouto. I am honored to be worthy enough of your cooking,” you said.

Shouto’s little cheeks flushed, as if embarrassed. He pretended to take a bite out of his sandwich, and then a swig out of his fake bottle of milk.

“So, how was work?” he asked, out of nowhere.

You blinked at him, then startled into another laugh. Oh, so he wanted to play real house, like you were married. So funny.

You pretended to take a thoughtful bite of your own meal. “Very busy and tiring,” you said. “I couldn’t wait to come home.”

Shouto scooted a little bit closer to you, pushing some of his fake veggies at you, their velcro innards rolling. “You need to eat a lot to keep your energy,” he pronounced. “Until I can make enough money that you do not have to work so hard.”

You grinned. So he thought he was going to be the breadwinner, huh? Not super traditional for an omega, but times were changing. You couldn’t imagine an alpha who wouldn’t want to provide for sweet little Shouto, though, so that was something he and his life mate were going to have to negotiate.

“We’re already rich, idiot,” Touya said from the couch. “Mom said we all have an inheritance.”

Shouto’s eyebrow twitched, like he was annoyed Touya was intruding on this private domestic discussion.

“Then you can have my inheritance,” he insisted to you, though you knew he had absolutely no idea what that meant.

You pretended to think on this.

“What if I use some of it to open my bookstore, and then pay you back the profits?” you asked.

Touya thought your dream of a bookstore was stupid, so you anticipated his annoyed grunt from the couch. But you still liked the idea of it. Ever since you were little, you’d wanted to own one of the brick-faced shops right along the waterfront, somewhere you could walk to from your house. You’d pile it high with thousands of books and plants and string-lights and have all your friends come over after hours to hang out.

You didn’t want to leave your hometown like so many people did. You wanted to make a home right here on the coast, where you could watch over your mom and hang out with Shouto and Touya and Keigo and Rumi.

Though these days you’d become aware that starting a business required upfront money first. Hopefully you would figure out how to get some by the time you graduated highschool. But the Todoroki inheritance would work nicely for your fantasy bookstore.

“You do not have to pay me back the profits,” Shouto insisted. “If we are married.”

You laughed. “Right, right. Then they’re our profits.”

“This is sickening,” Touya said, his voice muffled into a pillow.

You wiggled your eyebrows at Shouto, considering saying something that would bait Touya, but then the doorbell rang. Touya shot up off the couch, rushing over to let in his saviors.

“Looks like Keigo and Rumi are here,” you told Shouto. “Thank you for a delicious dinner.”

Some tiny flicker crossed Shouto’s serious little face, something like annoyance, which you so rarely saw on him. “I want to make it together again.”

You nodded, patting his fluff of multicolored hair. “Yeah, we’ll do it again. Next time we’ll even do dessert, okay?”

Shouto looked momentarily appeased. “And you’ll eat it all. So you have energy.”

You laughed, yanking on one of the strands of his hair fondly. “Absolutely. You take such good care of me, Shouto.”

A pleased little smile turned the corner of his mouth. He placed a hand on your knee as you heard Keigo and Rumi spill into the house, the rustle of Rumi and Touya immediately tussling.

“I will take good care of you always,” Shouto said seriously. “You have my word.”

“I trust it,” you said. And you knew he meant it.

Todoroki Shouto was such a sweet boy, and he was going to make someone a very good not-pretend husband one day. You waved to him as Rumi looped a nut-brown arm over your neck, pulling you outside.

These days, you’d been aware that life was not going to be as stable as you’d always assumed it would be as you grew up. But you hoped you’d still be around to see Shouto grow up too, married and happy like that with his own real life partner some day.

You wondered where you would be when that finally happened.

Now

The next few days proved a test of your resolution to be normal about Shouto.

Everywhere you went, it seemed like Shouto was there—or maybe you were the problem, finding yourself drawn to wherever he was.

You took meals at the Todoroki house a couple more times, eating them out of house and home like you had as a teen—Shouto always stopping by too to eat something on his way on or off a shift. Twice your morning runs had taken you by the fire station, only to see a pair of mismatched eyes tracking you curiously from the engine bay, burning hot on your back as you quickly scurried away, feeling insane.

Shouto joined Touya when he met you and Rumi and Keigo for drinks one evening, Touya looking just as chagrined to have his baby brother tagging along as he had when you were kids.

“Shouto-duty,” he’d growled, the same as when you were little and he was charged with Shouto’s care. Shouto’s face had gone carefully blank, the paragon of innocence, and you’d laughed as he angled himself into the booth across from you.

Of course you’d quickly shut up when he’d pressed his calf up against yours, his long legs unfurling under the table. You’d quickly jerked your leg aside to make space for him, but he stretched out further, an ankle pressing to yours. He didn’t seem to mind, although it made your face warm for some reason.

Shouto had been good company, and had patiently endured Rumi’s hair ruffling and Keigo’s incessant teasing. He’d even walked you home at the end of the evening, like a protective alpha, even though you were not an omega and could damn well take care of yourself. And he’d lingered as you’d unlocked the door, smiling his tiny, careful little smile, and looking almost like he was waiting for something.

You’d bitten out a strangled good night and quickly barricaded yourself inside the house, lest you do something stupid.

That had the unfortunate effect of making you feel even more like a girl returning home from a date, however, and your mother had been almost beside herself with glee when she’d caught a hint of Shouto’s scent as you’d jerked the door closed behind you.

“An alpha?” she’d prompted again, abandoning her soap opera to lean over the couch arm eagerly.

“It’s just Shouto,” you’d explained hastily, waving your arms, a little loose with the drinks you’d had. “It’s not anything.”

Your mother’s eyebrows had gone up. “I thought he was your child bride.”

You hissed, shushing her, casting a stricken glance at the open window. You hoped Shouto had turned around immediately and gotten out of hearing range or you were going to have to kill your own mother.

“He is like my orderly, helping me off the shuttle back into the retirement home,” you said, turning and emphatically shedding your jacket and shoes, effectively ending the conversation.

But that hadn’t been the end of it. You’d seen Shouto a million times more since then, culminating in a final sighting the night before the run.

You’d ducked out to the grocery, intent on gathering up a day’s worth of supplies for the run. For most people it was over within a few hours—omegas had a thirty minute head start but usually went no further than a mile out, the ritual no longer the strict test of a mate it might have been back before things like showers and wifi and nine-to-fives were invented. But you always went to the coast, a hike of at least an hour or two, and you needed to stay up your tree for at least a few more while the more daring omegas who’d come out around you were summarily hunted down and properly bedded.

With the hike back accounted for, it usually took up most of the day, and you’d long learned your time was best spent with a book, a few bottles of water, and several snacks on hand.

You recognized Shouto’s distinctive mop of hair and broad shoulders as soon as you turned onto the produce aisle. He’d seemed somehow to sense you already—though betas were notoriously harder to scent than omegas—mismatched eyes already pinned to you as you rounded the corner.

You startled, your basket jerking in your grip.

“Hi Shouto,” you said, sidling up to him.

Shouto watched you approach, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Y/N,” he intoned, peering curiously into your basket. A long-fingered, elegant hand reached out to touch the snacks you’d gathered there, everything but the apple you’d been targeting when you’d turned into this aisle.

“For the run?” Shouto guessed, eyes darting back up to catch yours.

You could feel your face flushing in acknowledgement of the ridiculousness of your participation. “Yes,” you said, dredging up a grin. You were happy to see him. “With any luck, and a heaping dollop of guilt, hopefully my last ever. I’m going all out.”

Something flickered behind Shouto’s eyes, a sort of glint you’d never seen before. For some reason the hair on the back of your neck raised. Maybe an alpha thing.

“With any luck,” he repeated, his voice rich, strangely deep.

You wiggled your basket of snacks at him. “What about you? Making preparations for the big day?”

Shouto’s eyes followed the basket as you dropped it back down to your side. “Yes. I was hoping to make something, for after.”

Your eyebrows shot up, a wave of helpless affection for him rising in you. “For your life mate? To take them home to?”

Shouto nodded, his scarlet and white strands falling into his eyes. He was so, so good.

You couldn’t help but reach out and pinch him, right on his rib cage. “You are too pure to be related to your family.”

Shouto blinked, eyelashes fluttering. His gaze was a little darker where it caught yours again. “I would not be so sure.”

You took a step back, slightly startled by this assertion. Another flush heated your cheeks, and you pinched him again for good measure. “Respect your elders’ opinions, brat.”

Shouto’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, catching your fingers in his before you could do too much damage. Your heart hammered to a stop in your chest, your hand suddenly burning beneath his.

“Let me make you something,” he said, his tone dipping low again.

A surprised breath escaped you. “Like lunch? For tomorrow?”

Shouto watched you for a long moment before answering. “That, as well.”

“Oh, then you meant like, for dinner tonight?” You frowned, wracking your brain for his meaning, and coming up short.

That wry little smile played about Shouto’s mouth again. “Yes, dinner tonight, too.”

You squinted at him, unclear what he was trying to do here. “Touya says you’re a shit cook and that’s why you come eat all Rei’s cooking.”

Shouto’s face went pointedly blank. “I am passable.”

“I’ve heard conflicting reports.”

“Then perhaps you can help me.” Shouto’s fingers curled around yours more tightly. “I will purchase, and you direct the operation.”

Your mind suddenly flickered back, catching the wisp of an afternoon years ago, bent over Shouto’s fake plastic cookware, a tiny, round-faced Shouto insisting he’d provide for you. Cooking together, you directing Shouto to cut the plastic veggies along their velcro strips while you diligently fried your plastic chicken. Your heart swelled.

“In the interest of you not food poisoning your life mate your first night together, I’m willing to show you a thing or two,” you said, peering up at him, feeling slightly giddy.

Shouto’s mouth quirked. “I will watch carefully.”

You grinned. “Alright. What are we thinking for meals then?”

It turned out Shouto already had a plan in mind—fried chicken karaage, with marinated vegetable sides, and for lunch some jam-packed wanpaku sandwiches to keep your energy up out in the preserve tomorrow. He made a second pass through the snack aisle, seeming to pull in doubles or triples of everything you’d collected in your basket so far. Then he even snuck in two pieces of chocolate cake in the bakery section, crowned with little dollops of fresh whipped cream.

Shouto dumped your entire basket into his as well, holding you off with a strong arm when you made a grab for it, and ignored your protests all the way through checkout.

“Shouto, that’s my lunch, I should pay,” you insisted, getting a little hot in the face again when he was easily able to fend you off with one arm despite your genuine efforts. God, that was—you needed to not think about that.

“I once promised to take good care of you,” Shouto said, leading the way out of the store. You followed, realizing you had no idea where he lived now.

“You were a baby. You also promised me your entire inheritance,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Plus starting tomorrow you are going to have a life mate to provide for.”

Shouto turned to look down at you, eyes dragging down your face. “I will.”

“Okay then we’re agreed,” you said, digging around in your bag for his change. Shouto’s stride lengthened, however, like he was trying to dodge you. You hurried after him, swearing like Touya, and found yourself all but chasing him towards the waterfront, suddenly freezing when Shouto turned onto one of the shop-lined streets, stopping just before a familiar little brick building.

“Shouto—you live above this?” you asked, creeping forward to look in through the window.

The shop stood empty, as it had the day you’d graduated high school, but you could see it was well-maintained, new flooring installed in a warm light wood and windows shined to crystal clarity. “I used to be obsessed with this place, this is where I thought my bookshop was going to be!” you said, unsure if you were talking to Shouto or yourself.

The soft clink of Shouto’s key paused in the door. “I know,” he said. “I remember you telling me.”

You turned back to him, smiling. “That was a million years ago and you were like, barely out of the womb.”

Shouto’s eyes pinned you with an alarming intensity, grey and blue points burning through you. “I remember everything you have ever told me.”

Your breath wooshed out of you, leaving you startlingly vulnerable. You desperately scrambled for verbal cover. “I—you are so full of it. You weren’t even speaking words yet when I met you.”

Shouto’s mouth quirked again, and he gestured you inside. You followed behind him, trying not to admire the way his broad shoulders filled up the breadth of the stairwell, the way his thighs bunched in his jeans as he took the stairs.

No. That way lay danger.

Shouto’s apartment had the same lovely blonde wood across the floors as the shop downstairs, and a huge bay window overlooking the coast where you imagined you could see the sun come up over the water in the mornings. The rest of the apartment was modern in style, though strangely minimalist, as though Shouto hadn’t filled it with very many of his own things.

“My life mate will need room,” he explained, unloading the groceries on the counter.

Your heart twisted at that, and you purposefully set about drinking in your fill of Shouto’s space before someone else filled it in for him. You admired the large, cushiony couch, chosen as if Shouto had imagined a thousand nights cuddled up on it with someone else, what appeared to be a super old but working fireplace, and the neatly arranged rows of hanging copper pots, which you could tell almost never got used.

It smelled like him, his alpha scent everywhere, like sweet campfire smoke on a cold breeze. It made you want to curl up in here and never leave.

“It’s amazing, Shouto. Your mate is going to just die over this,” you said, totally charmed.

You tried hard to ignore the little tinge of jealousy souring your gut.

Shouto’s gaze flashed up to yours, his long fingers arranging the groceries neatly on his countertops. “I would prefer if no one died,” he said solemnly.

You laughed. “You know what I mean.”

“I had hoped you would like it,” Shouto said, something pleased in his deep tone.

“I love it. You’ll have to invite me back over next time I’m in town,” you said.

Shouto’s fingers hesitated over a tomato, and a small, shy sort of smile pulled at his mouth as he peered down at it. “Perhaps even sooner.”

You blinked, mystified. You weren’t going to have time before you left for the city again, not with the run tomorrow, and definitely not if Shouto spent the traditional several days curled up here with his life mate afterwards.

“Yeah sometime,” you said vaguely, trying not to think too hard on it.

You had sort of enjoyed being Shouto’s favorite when you were kids, your time and attention prioritized even above Touya’s. But Shouto was all grown up now and it was time for him to have a new favorite—you probably hadn’t been his since you’d graduated and disappeared into the city to generate parental support money. It had been years.

“Anyway let’s get this stuff prepped, sous-chef Shouto,” you said, coming around the counter to his side. “I’m thinking the old plan of attack—you slice the veggies, I’ll fry the chicken?”

Shouto’s mouth pulled in a wider smile than you’d seen in a long time, a heart-stoppingly handsome flash of white. You gripped the counter carefully.

“I’d like that,” he said.

He set himself up with a knife and a cutting board, and set you up with a few small bowls for breading, flour, and egg. You noticed he sliced his vegetables a little more dexterously than the velcro veggies of years past—though certainly not expertly. The two of you worked in easy tandem as you whisked the egg, then laid all your chicken pieces out as you waited for the pot on the stove to warm.

The peace was only broken when Shouto suddenly leaned over you, bringing with him a puff of that delicious campfire scent. Your breath reflexively seized in your lungs as you froze, hyperaware of him as his hand went to the side of your hip. He gently pulled you out of range of one of his drawers, moving you like you were an expected piece of his kitchen—like his life mate he was long-used to dancing around, pressing close enough that you could feel the heat of him.

Something like electricity spiked across all of your nerve endings. You tried not to shiver with the feeling of Shouto’s soft exhale over your shoulder, the heavy weight of his hand on your hip as he slid open one of his drawers.

It took you a few moments to recover enough that you realized he’d been pulling out plastic wrap. He hadn’t been curled over your back just for the intimacy of it—god, you were such a fucking creep.

You peeled yourself out of Shouto’s hands and beat a hasty retreat to his fridge, scrounging around for the ingredients you’d need to make the vegetable seasonings. The warm kabocha and fried chicken were going to make perfect leftovers for Shouto and his mate to scarf down after a windy run along the coast tomorrow.

Maybe you’d try to make something similar when you made it back to your mom’s tomorrow. Although, come to think of it, you didn’t really want to be reminded of Shouto stuffed up back here with someone else.

A frown pulled at your mouth, and you pinched your thigh, gathering yourself back together. What Shouto did with his own life mate was none of your business. You needed to remember that.

When Shouto finished cutting up the vegetables you helped him arrange everything into two enormous sandwiches, then covered in plastic wrap and stowed in his fridge to set. He watched you carefully as you fried the chicken, hovering closely behind you like a tall, handsome shadow. You fought against some strange impulse to lean back against his chest, watching the chicken burble in the oil with an intense focus. Shouto didn’t seem to mind the sudden quiet, smiling a small half-smile when you turned back to him.

When it seemed ready, you fished the chicken out, setting it on paper towels to absorb the excess. Shouto followed you, taking hold of your face as you turned back to him.

You froze for the second time, pulse racing, as his fingers came up to brush along your cheek, just under your eye. The touch was gentle but firm, and his gaze swept over you assessingly. He seemed to linger for a long moment—until he came away with flour across his thumb.

A weird sense of disappointment twisted your gut as Shouto looked it over. How embarrassing.

“Oh, thanks,” you managed to say, swiping at your face yourself.

Shouto’s mouth quirked softly. “As I said, I did once promise to take care of you.”

Your face went warmer, and you deliberately did not think about how much you liked that. The only person taking care of you was you, and it was going to have to be that way for the foreseeable future. Flour was only flour.

“Again, you were a baby. You needed taking care of more than me,” you accused.

Shouto shifted closer, an intent look settling over his features. “I am not a child any longer.”

That much was upsettingly clear these days. But that was beside the point.

“Neither of us are,” you agreed. “And I assure you, other than the occasional flour mishap, I am excellent at taking care of myself now. You on the other hand, with all these unused pots…”

Shouto’s eyes lingered on your face. To your horror he absently brought his thumb to his mouth, tongue barely flicking out to lick the flour—and that ended the discussion immediately.

Your face immediately flamed, overcome with shit you absolutely should not be thinking, and you shooed him away to fetch plates. Shouto let himself be shooed, looking contemplative.

When he returned with plates, you busied yourself serving up two large portions of rice, followed by crispy golden fried chicken, cucumber salad, and soft, steaming kabocha. It all looked excellent, if you did say so yourself, practically Michelin-starred compared to the plastic meal you’d made together all those years ago.

Shouto led you over to the coffee table and you both took positions on the floor, your back against his couch.

“This reminds me so much of when we were little,” you said, grinning. “Except the couch is mercifully devoid of any complaining.”

The indent at the side of Shouto’s mouth deepened. “I prefer the lack of Touya as well.”

You laughed, biting into your chicken, pleased when it tasted as good as it looked. Hopefully Shouto’s life mate was going to love it. Shouto looked like he liked it too, his long eyelashes fluttering over the tops of his cheekbones as he chewed. Your stomach flipped.

“So how was work?” you asked Shouto, flipping the script on him from when he was younger.

An electric blue eye cut sideways towards you, like he remembered too.

“Very busy and tiring,” he repeated, almost an exact parroting of your words, if you remembered correctly. “I could not wait to come home.”

“You really do remember a lot,” you said, impressed.

Shouto took a mouthful of squash, chewing neatly. Was it normal to look that pretty when eating?

“As I said,” he said, something slightly smug in his voice.

You rolled your eyes—Todorokis—and took your own mouthful of food, chewing thoughtfully.

“You’re so similar and yet so different,” you informed him when you’d finished. “I’m sad I missed you graduating school, and the academy. You’ve really grown up into an amazing person, Sho.”

Shouto’s chopsticks wavered over his plate, and a pink flush stained his cheeks.

“I had always wanted you to think so, when we were younger,” he said slowly, eyes fixed on his plate.

You smiled. “You were so cute. I was always going to think so. Even when I thought you were going to grow up an omega and had no idea what career you might have wanted. You were just good, I think.”

The tip of Shouto’s ear went red, almost matching the left side of his hair.

You couldn’t help but continue, warmed by how much the praise clearly meant to him. “Touya was my best friend but I liked spending the time with you, even though you were that much younger. I am sorry I haven’t been able to stick around and spend more of it with you.”

Shouto took a deliberate bite of rice, like he was calming himself.

“Your job in the city,” he said, when he finished. “Do you like it?”

You shook your head, snorting. “It’s fine. If I had a say I’d be running that storefront just below us, but my job is at least guaranteed money for mom. I don’t mind, though I do regret not coming back here enough.”

Shouto seemed to take a moment to think on this. “But you would quit it, if you could,” he said.

You nodded. “Yeah, I think so. But like I said, it’s not so bad. And it’s pretty good money for a single income if I do say so myself.”

Shouto turned to watch you. “It would be easier if you had your life mate,” he said.

You paused, considering the weight of this statement. “Well yeah. But as you know, not everyone finds theirs. And as a beta I’m sort of stuck waiting for my life mate to find me—I’ve sometimes wondered if any of those alphas I hid up a tree from were actually it, all those years ago. But something tells me no. So I’m doing my own thing in the meantime.”

“Do you hope to find your life mate, this time?” Shouto asked, pinning you with an intense look. He’d abandoned his food it seemed, watching you with singular focus. It was slightly unnerving.

You wondered how best to answer without making him pity you.

“I’ve always hoped, but I’ve never counted on it,” you said. “But one thing is for certain—I wouldn’t accept just anyone. I’m not going to end up like my parents did.”

Shouto’s fingers shifted on the table top, and he seemed to be holding them out to you. You carefully placed your hand in his, gratified when his hand closed over yours, thumb smoothing your skin.

“You are not,” Shouto said, sounding sure. “You will have a life mate who has cared for you and will care for you his whole life.”

He sounded like he meant it. He was so sweet all these years later.

You flushed, embarrassed by his declaration. “Okay. I’ll—trust you on that.”

Shouto looked satisfied, letting your hand go so you could return to your food. You both scarfed down the rest of your meals, like the two of you were storing up enough energy for tomorrow, and then Shouto pressed a slice of chocolate cake on you, too, insistent.

He watched you eat it with the supervisory focus of a mother—or an alpha with his omega, a thought that you immediately put back out of mind.

You let him feed you too much, happy for the extra time in his company, laughing and chatting and reliving shared memories. You insisted on helping him with the dishes, too, washing everything as he packed up the leftovers, and then sorted out your prepared sandwich and the snacks he’d purchased for you. He didn’t let you out of his sight even as he did so, moving in front of you to block your access to your bag when you remembered you owed him money.

Shouto kept hold of it on the way to the door, too, so you couldn’t dig out cash and fling it before running out—he really did know too much about you after all these years.

Once he surrendered your bag to you, he leaned forward, fingers finding the side of your face again, cupping it and turning it up to his.

You went perfectly, embarrassingly still in his hold, breath coming short. His thumb smoothed across your cheek, and a private little smile pulled at his mouth.

“I will see you tomorrow,” he promised, his tone rich and dark, like the chocolate cake you’d just had.

You barely resisted a shiver, having to manually kickstart your lungs again, breathing in and out deliberately.

“Only if your life mate goes so far,” you said. “I hope for your sake they keep things easy.”

Shouto’s smile widened a bit. “They will not.”

You tried not to be too irritated at whoever it was. Only an idiot would make it so hard for an alpha like Todoroki Shouto.

“Well then, good luck,” you told him. “I’ll be on the lookout for you from my tree. And I’ll have snacks if you need them.” You rattled your bag.

Shouto’s eyes roved over your face, something warm in his gaze. “You will see me,” he said. “Though I do not plan to need any luck.”

Okay that was—he was not allowed to be that confident. That damn omega had no idea how lucky they were.

It took everything you had to wrench yourself away from him, only the knowledge that he was meant for someone else carrying you away. You made yourself salute him, smiling. Then you bid him good night, promising to text him when you got in, and scurried off to your mother’s house, trying to put yourself on the right track again.

You scolded yourself as you readied for bed, dropping a kiss on your mother’s head as you passed her asleep on the couch. You would not be a weenie about this. You were, at least, glad that Shouto was going to find his happiness tomorrow.

Even if you envied them even more tonight after seeing the life Shouto had built for them to share. Even if you wished, despite all odds, that you could find a life mate to share yours, too.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto x you #shouto x reader #shouto x y/n #todoroki x you #bnha x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #andie's writing #character: todoroki shouto

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