#the masterlist for this series will be posted once every fic is done

[yueebby]

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 – 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

synopsis. period piece, forbidden love

contents. ooc, angst (eventual comfort), yandere emperor!gojo, lovesick!gojo, servant!reader, obsessive behavior (5k words of gojo pining), lowkey unreliable narrator, time skips

notes. inspired by the apothecary diaries and this post. loosely based off of ancient japan (this is basically its own world). this is the prologue to the series where everything can generally be read as a standalone ! (fic under the cut)

series masterlist

emperor!gojo who broke a hundred year tradition to take you as his only lover. despite your role as a concubine, everyone in the imperial palace knew he was going to make you his empress.

emperor!gojo who had not meant to fall in love with you, but you have managed to somehow charm him. a man that single handedly brought his own clan to power– weak in your hands. hushed whispers around the imperial palace call you a witch, but they never reach your ears. not as long as he is alive.

emperor!gojo shamelessly showering you with love. he pays no mind that it is highly frowned upon, he will have his hands on you every time you are in the same room.

emperor!gojo who is livid when there is an attempt on your life. his usual ocean eyes turned to blue flames like a wild animal. servants and clan elders alike scurry under his gaze. the assailant is taken care of by his own hands. 

emperor!gojo who is forced to satiate the clan elders into submission by taking in another concubine from an influential clan. he insists to you that it is no more than a political formality. who are you to meddle into imperial affairs?

emperor!gojo who can’t help himself and ends up falling for another girl who his clan elders demand he must wed. she is much younger than you, beautiful and is well bred; a perfect match for the emperor. 

emperor!gojo whose frequent visits to you come to an end, forcing you to move from his chambers and back to the consorts’ pavilion.

There was a time when you had everything. A place to call home in the Inner Court, a beautiful palace with anything you could have ever dreamed of. Servants, admirers, riches; you had it all. But what was most dear to you was your lover– a man so divine, many thought he was directly blessed by the hand of God. It was too good to be true. A woman of lowly birth like you, paid as homage for the sins of her clan against the new reigning family of Japan, becoming a concubine of the Heavenly Emperor. 

You remembered it all too well.

His brilliant mind that once strategized the downfall of the previous imperial family, calculating its next move in a game of Go against you. You can still remember the shock on his face upon his first defeat. The way he would keep you from leaving to fulfill your other duties until he was satisfied, eyebrows furrowing as he struggled to keep up with you. No matter how hard he tried, you remained victorious. It drove him mad.

You remembered the stolen kisses while you made your rounds in the Inner Palace with your ladies in waiting. It took you quite a while to learn to tune out their giggles every time the Emperor dips you down to taste your lips in broad daylight. The grin that he wore after was enough to leave your legs weak.

Above all, you'll always remember how safe you felt in his strong, reassuring embrace. You’ve seen him train, and it was no wonder the Gojo clan rose to power so quickly as a result of one man. The way he wields the katana is unlike any man on the face of the earth. Those arms were your sanctuary. You can still vividly recall the attempt on your life, orchestrated by a traditionalist incensed by the Gojo clan's swift ascent to power. The emperor, outraged by the assassination plot, personally saw to the man's execution. 

However, the damage was done and it caused great strain in the Imperial Palace.

To appease the old geezers that were forced out of power, Emperor Gojo had taken in another concubine from one of the Big Three families of Japan— a beautiful Zenin girl. Her flowing, silky hair and saccharine voice enchanted everyone in the Inner Palace, captivating the Emperor, most of all. She was younger than you, with perkier breasts and soft skin that was enough to capture the attention of any man. 

You don’t blame her for taking the Emperor’s attention away. Though you would be a liar if you said it did not hurt you. Deep down, you cannot deny the agony that sears your soul, realizing that the only semblance of love you've ever tasted remains unrequited. With a heavy heart, you resign yourself to the bitter truth of your existence, knowing all too well the cruel confines of your place in this world.

You were merely a pawn, and the Emperor did not want you anymore.

That was made clear months later when you received a scroll from the Emperor’s advisor, a man you were once well acquainted with, Geto Suguru. 

“What is this?” You asked him quietly, your heart silently begging the Heavens it was not what you had suspected it to be. The black haired man in front of you does not respond, and you feel something pierce into your heart. Despite being a part of the Emperor’s court, it was rare that you received letters directly.

Your suspicions were confirmed when your shaky hands finally opened the scroll to read the familiar kanji written by your beloved.

“The Emperor decrees the termination of your role as concubine." Geto spares you the trouble of deciphering the characters neatly written in ink. “In his mercy, you are to be moved as a servant in the Outer Court. You are to serve the Imperial Physician.”

What you remember most was the silence. The Emperor’s silence after the stressful months you had to endure alone. The silence shared between you and Geto when you were forced out of the Imperial Court. All that was left was the sound of your heart breaking and the wood creaking underneath Geto’s feet as he walked away. Satoru never bothered to see you off.

Seasons change and by the next spring, you’re busying your hands with collecting herbs for the Imperial Physician, a man by the name of Yaga Masamichi. He is a kind man, pitying you enough to fill your days with laborious tasks to prevent your mind from wandering to thoughts of the unfortunate turn your life has taken. He is even generous enough to supply you with a new wardrobe of clothing full of light fabrics, a luxury you thought you would lose in the Outer Palace. Though the initial humiliation has worn off with the passing of time, you are still constantly reminded of your fall from grace.

Looks by the mix of condolences and disgust are shared when you roam the walls of the Outer Palace. You hear whispers of how the Emperor is infatuated with his newer, shinier toy. It is enough for you to swallow the bile that makes its way up your throat. 

“It is no wonder the Emperor tossed away a wildflower like her in exchange for a cherry blossom. He needed someone to rival his own greatness.” A particular comment stopped you in your tracks. Your grip tightens on the woven basket in your hand filled with medicinal herbs you had collected earlier that morning. 

“Have some pity on her.” Another eunuch whispers. Your breath falters, but you continue your walk with your head held up. You’ve heard the rumors. The beautiful Zenin Himiko has charmed the Emperor enough that there are rumors of a royal marriage to come. It doesn’t help that the Emperor has remained monogamous to her since he had banished you from his court.

A comforting hand links itself with your arm, “Ignore them. I saw Yaga shooing away a crowd of suitors that were lined up for your hand.” Ieiri Shoko scoffs, secretly sending you a wink. She has been studying medicine under Yaga for nearly a decade, eagerly accepting you as a companion upon your arrival. You feel your cheeks heat up at her flattery. You know she’s just trying to make you feel better.

Although your beauty never faded, it seems as though you are no longer sought after in the marriage market. Not that it matters, considering the new life that you’re living. You’re now a personal servant to the Imperial Physician, leaving no time to worry about suitors and such. Your days are filled with good work— tending to Yaga’s cherished garden that he has sowed for decades rather than frivolous games and attending the Emperor. It may not be glorious compared to your former life, but it was the best a woman of your status could receive. 

When you and Shoko return to Yaga’s estate, you’re surprised to see the somber look that has settled on his aging features. Shoko makes an offhand comment that he will age faster if he keeps scowling. She receives a scolding.

“Is something the matter?” You gently place down your basket full of herbs. 

Yaga sighs, calloused hands rolling up a scroll with the Imperial Seal. “It appears the Emperor’s consort has fallen ill and His Majesty commands my presence in the Imperial Palace.” 

The Royal Consort. The woman that dethroned you: Zenin Himiko.

“I understand.” You nod, maintaining your composure while two sets of eyes scrutinize you with keen observation. It was only natural the emperor wanted the best doctor in the country for his object of affection. “Shall I close up the shop while you journey into the Inner Palace?” 

Yaga shakes his head, “That won’t be necessary. I will have Shoko act as my stand-in.” He remarks with a quick glance in her direction “You, on the other hand, will accompany me.” 

Your eyes widen. 

“You cannot be serious.”

“Typically, one of my apprentices would accompany me on such journeys. However, now that I have acquired a personal attendant,” He gestures towards you with a flick of his hand, “It shall no longer be necessary.” As he speaks, he runs his hand absentmindedly through his well trimmed beard, gaging your reaction.

"I—" Your words falter and fade away. "Yes, sir," you respond, inclining your head in deference, a stark reminder of your place. While you may have concealed it, you were seething with humiliation. Returning to the Imperial Palace after a year of exile to serve the woman who took your spot was mortifying beyond measure.

“Very well. Pack enough for one week’s time. I doubt the Emperor would have called me if this was a light ailment.” He says gruffly. “We leave at dawn.” His gaze shifted to the horizon outside.

1 YEAR AGO

“Your Grace,” You purr at the feeling of his large hands scratching your head. 

The smile that rests on his face is almost ravenous. “Yes, my love?”

“I think—“ A soft sigh escapes your lips when he presses on your weak points. “I should g-go.”

His ministrations stop almost immediately. 

“Go?” His eyes peer down at you in his lap. It is now that you realize the weight of his piercing gaze. “Have I commanded you to leave yet?”

“No, but—”

“Then you have nowhere else to be.” He huffs, unintentionally puffing his cheeks out. You stifle the giggle that nearly escapes from your lips. He vaguely resembles a pufferfish– or so you think. Though you’ve never seen the round creature with your very own eyes, you’ve heard that the delicacy was something only members of the aristocratic class would feast on. 

Your mouth waters at the thought.

“What are you thinking about that could possibly be so important? Keep your eyes on me,” A strong hand squishes your cheeks together and firmly guides your face back upon him. 

You should be embarrassed; ashamed at the intimate position His Majesty has trapped you in. The way your head is tucked away in his lap as he peers down at you, nothing to shield you away from him. It was incredibly scandalous, considering that you were an unmarried woman! But it seemed like the Emperor had taken no mind towards it. You would even dare to say that he was enjoying it, with the way his lips quirk upward at the sight of you squirming. 

“Your Grace,” You repeat, determined to free yourself from his hold. His eyebrows furrow.

“Satoru,” He reminds you. You purse your lips. The position you hold in his court is simply not high enough to grant you the privilege of calling him by his given name.

“Your Grace,” You try again, the title rolling off of your tongue naturally. A man like him did not deserve any title less than.

“You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart. Indulge a man, won’t you?” He pouts down at you. As stubborn as ever, you don’t relent.

“I would be overstepping my boundaries as your consort to call you as such. That privilege is reserved for your future bride.” You take advantage of his guard let down to sit up and escape his hold. If he could have caught you, he made no effort.

“I am a simple man.” He follows you to your vanity. A giggle escapes your mouth. He is anything but. “I want my love to call me by my name.” 

You turn around to cup his cheek. He eagerly leans into your touch, sighing happily at the contact.

“I wonder how Lord Kento and Geto would react to you like this.” You tease, a smile unknowingly painting itself on your lips. 

Satoru’s face falls, features morphing into an appalled expression. You watch him close the distance between you through the mirror.

“Kento?” His voice had a dangerous lilt in it. You blink, unsure what spurred on the sudden tension in the room. “Since when were you so comfortable around him? He cannot satisfy you like I can.” He reminds you of the man’s castrated state as an eunuch. You wince.

“I have not gotten comfortable,” You’re careful to pick your words. Gojo’s possessiveness was something that was not easily tamed. “He simply provides good conversation while you are away.The palace is far too big and lonely while you’re away dealing with clan matters.” 

The only response you get is a quiet grumble. “You’re lucky that you’re pretty.” His large hand creeps its way into your hair again, undoing the hairstyle your ladies in waiting had spent a copious amount of time on earlier that morning. Gojo carefully plucks the extravagant silver hairpin from your hair, the dangling pearls clicking softly at the sudden movement.  His hands slowly make their way down to the kimono that you are wearing, hands ready to undo the obi.

Your hands softly hover his, “I fear that our roles have been reversed. Should it not be me who gets you unready, Your Grace?”

He chuckles and through the mirror you can see a smirk make his way to his lips, “I’d let you undress me any day. Just say the word, beloved.” 

You roll your eyes, but allow him to continue. It was moments like these with the Emperor that led you on to believe that there was a semblance of love between the two of you. 

How wrong you were.

PRESENT DAY

The sun has yet to meet the horizon when you arrive at the Inner Palace. The horse-drawn carriage that you and Yaga had taken is the only sound at the scene, clopping down the stone road and back to the Inner Court. You miss the serenity of the beautiful palace you once resided in, knowing that it will be bustling with life in just a few short hours.

In front of the large doors of the primary ceremonial hall where the Emperor spends most of his time, stands Lord Nanami, a counsellor to the Emperor himself. Time has only made his face sterner, but his neatly styled hair and blue and yellow dyed court attire remained the same. He waits patiently while you and Yaga make your way up the flight up stairs that lead up to the hall.

“I am glad to see you in good health, Yaga.” Nanami bows. 

The man next to you promptly waves his politeness off, thanking him for his hospitality. You stand silently while the two men engage in conversation regally.

Lord Nanami sighs, “His Majesty has been plagued by stress lately. To say I am relieved by your presence would be an understatement.” His statement is a subtle reminder that you must harden your heart upon entering the palace walls. The meticulously built walls were no longer a sanctuary for you, rather, a painful testament that you were no longer wanted. 

Yaga lets out a hearty laugh and it reveals a rare sight, Lord Nanami’s lips curving upwards by a slight. “I highly doubt the boy would be glad to see me. The appearance of the Imperial Physician is portentous.” He scratches his beard. You tilt your head in confusion at how he referred to the Emperor.

“I suppose, yet I am intrigued to find out how he will react upon seeing his object of affection flourishing anew despite the sting of frost.” Nanami audibly wonders. Even a fool could understand his eloquent comparison. The Emperor would be thrilled to see his consort in full bloom once again. You pray that the Heavens would grant you some mercy from witnessing such a scene.

“Youth,” Yaga shakes his head, chuckling to himself before regaining composure. “I mustn't keep the Emperor waiting. [Name], please gather the herbal ingredients to treat the young Consort as you seem fit. I shall confer with His Majesty and meet you in her chambers to declare a proper diagnosis.”

You bow, “Yes sir.”

While Yaga prepares to enter the doors where The Heavenly Emperor resides, your eyes couldn’t help but gaze longingly at the large bronze doors. 

“You seem well,” Nanami addresses you for the first time in over a year. Your eyes trail from the Emperor’s door to the blonde man in front of you. “Allow me to guide you to our herbal stock.” Nanami offers you his arm as you start to make your way down the stairs. 

You take it, lightly holding his arm.  “Thank you, Lord Nanami. Time away from the Inner Palace has been like a breath of fresh air,” You respond, ensuring your voice carries no malice. You hear the large palace doors from behind you open, the metal creaking loudly in the quiet dawn. 

“I must ask you to call me Kento,” He leads you down the stone steps. “We are old friends, it is strange to hear anything but.” 

You focus on your steps down the stairs, only responding once your feet meet the solid ground, “I fear that our social statuses have changed since then. It would be the cause of a scandal should anyone hear I am calling the Imperial Counselor by his given name. Your admirers would have my head on a stick.”

“Your imagination is amusing as always, [Name].” He gives you a closed eyes smile. You huff.

“I am only speaking the truth!” You insist. He chuckles.

“It is quite refreshing to see both you and Yaga again. I’m not sure how long it has been since I have been at the imperial physician.” 

You gape at his confession. “You mustn't skip your annual visits to the physician, Kento. It is in the best interest of your health!” You lightly scold him, lifting your hand to flick his forehead. It was a force of habit. “Perhaps if I have time after treating the Consort, I shall do a check up on you.”

Nanami clears his throat at your comment, the twinkle in his eyes dissipating as if your direct touch had burned him. 

“I would rather not lose my head.” He mumbles, eyes scanning the courtyard around the two of you. You knit your eyebrows, confused.

Nanami leaves you to fulfill his duties once you arrive at the Royal Kitchens to retrieve all the necessary items to treat Consort Himiko. You are glad that he did not accompany you into the kitchens to prepare Consort Himiko’s herbal soup. 

The memory of it still irks you.

“You’re late,” One of Consort Himiko’s ladies in waiting snaps just as you enter the kitchen. You look up to see a young girl, dressed in a light purple kimono. It must be Himiko’s signature, you note. It was strange to see someone outside of the Imperial family donning the color, but you suppose it was only a grand display of Himiko’s influence.

“You’re a lot more plain than I anticipated,” The other lady in waiting quirks an eyebrow, eyeing your appearance. You furrow your eyebrows, shocked by their rudeness.Their undying loyalty to their Lady was enough to fuel an unspoken hatred for you. Though you’re not sure that the two coincide, you don’t blame them.

The two are mixing a concoction that you don’t recognize to be used to treat the sick. The taller one adds some aromatics and herbs in and you see the other one unwrap a cloth to reveal a rare delicacy from the West. Cocoa, you believed they called it. 

Then it hits you– the two are not making a medicinal soup for their Lady, rather they are making an aphrodisiac! The image that conjures in your head makes you blanch. Back in the Outer Palace, Shoko had shown you the effects of the stimulant (you shiver at the memory of her shoving a treat laced with it into your mouth). It was certainly a night to remember.

“How pathetic,” You mutter underneath your breath, quickly rushing to obtain the ingredients you needed without making conversation with the two girls.

Fortunately, they pay you no further attention for the time you’re in the kitchen.

“Please excuse me,” You bow upon entering the Emperor’s chambers. Despite the Consort’s Pavilion being similar in size to a small town, you remember spending most of your time in the Emperor’s chambers rather than your own. It was probably the same case with Consort Himiko. You slowly place the tray carrying broth and medicinal herbs to treat the Consort down on the circular wooden table in the middle of the room.

Out of curiosity, your eyes can’t help but soak in the Emperor’s room. Not much has changed since you’ve left. His Majesty’s preference for minimalist decorations have stayed the same, along with his natural musk that fills your nose. You feel your face heat up at your own thoughts. How could you think of such a thing when you are about to meet his new lover?

Your gaze moves to his bed, where Consort Himiko resides– only to find nothing.

“Huh?” 

You observe his bed, silk sheets neatly made, seemingly untouched. The sounds of your sock clad feet patter on the wooden floor as you make your way to feel the bedsheets for any signs of warmth, but you are met with nothing.

“Don’t you know that entering the Emperor’s chambers can be punishable by death?” A deep voice from behind you causes you to jump in your spot. 

Your guard is immediately raised, head whipping to the sound. In hindsight, you should have never agreed to accompany Yaga on his trip. It was a foolish idea all along, you think as all of the air in your lungs dissipates upon seeing your former lover. 

Standing at the entrance of his own sleeping quarters is Gojo Satoru, his frame big enough to tower over the doorway. His arms are crossed over each other, electric blue eyes focused on nothing else but you. You press your thighs together tightly to avoid squirming anymore than you are.  He has loosened his dark blue kimono to expose some of his hardened chest, a sight any woman in the nation would die to catch a glimpse.  Even underneath all of the fabric, anyone can see his divinely sculpted physique.

“Your Grace,” You waste no time to dip your body deeply, praying that he will allow you to keep your head by sunset. “I apologize for the intrusion, I was under the pretense that Consort Himiko resided in your quarters–” Your voice loses itself in your throat when you see his shadow quickly encroaching.

“Himiko stays in her Pavilion,” He towers over you, eyes gazing down on you. “But one might suspect that you already knew that.”

Your eyes frantically meet his feet, desperate to salvage what was left of your dignity, “I assure you that I speak of the truth, Your Majesty.”

When he doesn’t respond, you slowly lift your head.

The flustered look on your face must have been amusing to him, as he makes his way closer to you, bending down to interrogate you further.

“Is that so?” He hums, enjoying every second of cornering you into his chambers. The back of your legs have met his bed, trapping you. You inhale sharply, trying to keep your breaths even, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he had on you.

He continues, “You’re awfully skittish for someone who was happily skipping around my territory in the arms of another man just earlier.” His predatory gaze seems to darken. 

“Kento?” When his name leaves your lips, the man in front of you grits his teeth. You turn your head to the side, deliberately avoiding him. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, but I don’t see how Kento and I’s relationship is any of your concern,” He does not take your actions well, his gaze searing into you.

“It certainly is when the woman in question is you,” Gojo’s voice loses its feral lilt, distress flashing across his face. There’s a newfound desperation in it that chips away at your resolve. His hand raises to your face so slowly, as if he did not want to startle you.

“This is wrong. I– I saw a couple of servants earlier making aphrodisiacs, perhaps you could have unknowingly consumed them.” You tell him, frantic eyes meeting him. It is not unusual for couples to use aphrodisiacs, you know that after under Yaga. The Emperor must have mistaken the laced dessert for his usual. 

He shakes his head, running a hand through his white hair.

“You are mistaken. This is solely your effect on me.” He promises. You could barely believe his words, stuck between feeling offended or shocked.

“How could you stand to be so cruel?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. There are no tears in your eyes this time.  “I am not a courtesan you can buy for the night,” You snap, pointing a harsh finger to his chest. 

“What do you mean?” He sounds breathless.

“Whatever do I mean?” You scoff, a dry laugh escaping your mouth. “For a year, all I have gotten is pity from the world, because you decided I was no longer entertaining. You could have at least banished me away yourself. Instead, you sent Suguru who couldn’t even look me in the eye! Don’t you know how humiliating that is?” With every word that left your lips, more venom seemed to drip. Anger was prickling you all over, taking control of the rational part of you.

Gojo seemed to be taken aback by your outburst. It was far too late to take anything back now. If you lose your head by nightfall, so be it.

You dig a deeper grave for yourself when you take advantage of his moment of weakness to flee. He’s quick to react, attempting to grip your wrist.

“Wait, [Name], beloved–” He uses that all too familiar term of endearment, but it doesn't deter you.

You accidentally bump into the circular wooden table placed in the middle of the room. What an awful place to keep it, watching in horror as the Consort’s medicine shatters on the floor. To add salt to the wound, a vase you recognize to be specially gifted to the Emperor from a foreign nation tips off too before you can catch it. The sound of porcelain shattering fills the room.

“[Name]! Are you alright?” You hear Gojo ask from behind you, but you run over the broken shards before he can catch you.

Had you bothered to pay closer attention, you would have noticed articles of your clothing and a couple of your missing belongings littered all over the room– creating a faux impression that you never really left the palace.

Days passed by after the incident, and luckily, your head was still attached to your body despite offending and nearly endangering the Emperor. Yaga’s disappointment when you had told him what happened was made evident when he sent you home early after hearing the events that transpired, insisting that he can handle the Consort on his own. Normally you would have argued, but you knew better than to inflict Yaga’s wrath.

“Now you’ve really done it,” Shoko whistles lowly, walking in from the front of Yaga’s shop. 

You hide your face in your hands, “I made an absolute fool of myself, didn’t I?”

“A fool? No. A conspirator against the Emperor? Perhaps.” She dangles a scroll with a familiar seal on it. The Gojo Clan’s familiar emblem reflects off of the sunlight spilling into the room. Your heart drops.

“Oh, they’ll have my head.” You moan, hands instinctively lifting to shield your neck.

“Though I’m quite impressed that Yaga only sent you back here. He used to have worse punishments.” She shudders before impatiently unraveling the scroll. You watch her eyes gradually widen as they read the contents of the letter. The scroll falls from her hand.

You rush to it, desperate to read your fate.

To [Last Name] [First Name],

Greetings and prosperity unto you.

By the mandate of the heavens and the authority vested in Us, We hereby extend Our solemn words to you, [Last Name] [First Name], servant of the realm, in acknowledgement of your debt to the Empire.

In response to your unmeritorious deeds, The Emperor bestows upon you His imperial pardon from capital punishment. In consideration of your obligations and the harmony of the realm, it is hereby decreed that you shall serve as an indentured servant to the Imperial Household for a period commensurate with your debt. During this time, you shall labor faithfully and diligently under the supervision of Our Heavenly Emperor, performing duties essential to the welfare of the Empire.

By fulfilling your obligations with diligence and humility, you may yet earn favor and esteem in Our sight.

The Imperial Court

A loud gasp escapes your mouth.

You feel your legs weaken, your emotions running wild. Shoko’s eyes meet yours, mirroring your frantic gaze. In that moment, you are met with the same suffocating sense of hopelessness.

extra!

gojo was kicking his feet happily as he watched suguru draft out his letter to you. suguru thought it rather cruel, while the white haired male was too busy purring happily as he fantasized about having you back into his grasp.

previous chapter | next chapter [coming soon!]

[revasserium]

roronoa zoro; 21,051 words (not including epilogue), fluff and angst, ENEMIES!!! to lovers, the slowest of slow burns, canon-normal violence, on-page description of injury, excessive use of flashbacks, some banter, healing from trauma, baroque works!reader to strawhat!reader, no "y/n", emotionally constipated!zoro, hurt and comfort, angst with a happy ending; (epilogue tags will be posted separately)

summary: in which neither you nor zoro are the children you remember each other to be.

update: new chapters will be posted on @shouyuus!!!

a/n: IT'S FINALLY HERE!!! i honestly cannot believe i actually finished writing this lmfao. but anyway, this post will act as a table of contents/masterlist of sorts, and i will update links to the separate chapters as they go up. chapters will be posted every few days (but they are all done! except for the epilogue LOL). i've tagged everyone who has req-ed to be tagged in this series so far on this prologue post, but if you wish to be tagged for the upcoming chapters and you're not already on this fics specific taglist, please comment below to be added! and without further ado -- here we go!

TABLE OF CONTENTS ━

prologue: someone, somewhere

chapter one: a shadow of the past

chapter two: tell no tales

chapter three: sleep of the living, dreams of the dead

chapter four: another life

chapter five: true love's kiss

epilogue: la petite mort (nsfw)

prologue: someone, somewhere

He remembers you most as a child, in halcyon images and gold-limned flashes of his own childhood memories, the edges blurring watercolor soft, but the center (always you) carved in knife-sharp relief.

You were one of the few children that lived in Shimotsuki Village who hadn’t come from the doujou — one of the few children he knew that (at least to the best of his knowledge) had a thing called family. A mother to braid your hair, a father to chase the darkness away, a warm bed and a kitchen that always smelled of freshly made rice. And perhaps it was jealousy, or some other more complicated emotion that had been then too big to name with one single word, but he’d never gone out of his way to befriend you like the other kids from the doujou did — fascinated as they were by your soft hands and round cheeks and the bright, glittering array of homemade sweets you’d bring with you once every couple of weeks.

He’d learn later on that it was because Shimotsuki-sensei had saved your father’s life at some point in time; the story now lost to the annals of legend and withering memory, but back then, he’d only assumed it was the natural way of things. Of waking up for kata practice and then settling in for lunch, and then maybe, if it was to be a good day, you, with your basket of sweets and your blue-bell laughter.

And perhaps this is why, years later, when he meets you again in a dark, nameless village tavern, he doesn’t recognize you — not at first. Because you’d looked so different. Gone was the roundness in your cheeks, or the natural star-bright light in your eyes. Gone, too, were the bright braids that your hair had always been set in — he remembers so clearly, watching the other boys from the doujou jab their fingers into the rings of your pinned up braids, pulling down just to hear you squeak. He hadn’t said anything then, stupidly thinking him above it all, watching as you tried to jerk away, but laughing when the boys finally relented with half-hearted apologies.

You always threatened to take their sweets away; you never did, in the end.

But there, then, in that tiny tavern, you’d been thin, your hair dark as an oil spill, loose and inky as it cascades over your shoulders, your eyes lightless as the windows to an abandoned house — the hollowness made all the more visceral by the light he knew once inhabited them. The way loneliness is always more potent when coming back to it, the second time around.

He wanders up to the bar, slates you a glance before rapping his knuckles on the worn wood to catch the bartender’s attention.

“I’ll have beer and a refill of whatever the lady’s having.”

You shift slightly, shoulders hunching towards your ears.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you say, shifting to shield your face from his gaze.

Zoro cocks his head, tossing a few Berry towards the bartender as they set down a stein of beer and a champagne flute to replace the one in front of you.

“Can’t a guy buy a girl a drink?” Zoro asks, rolling his shoulders as he reaches out for his beer. You eye him warily.

“Not for a guy that’s been tracking me for three weeks straight.”

Zoro hums, thumb poised on the hilt of his swords.

“We just happened to be going in the same direction.”

You reach out to run a forefinger along the rim of the thin champagne flute before swirling it once by the base. You watch the bubbles fizzle before leaning in to take a dainty sip.

“And they say chivalry is dead…” you murmur, almost too softly for him to hear. Zoro scoffs, allowing himself a twinge of a smirk before his mouth falls flat.

“You let me track you for three whole weeks.”

There’s no question in his words, only a harsh, accusatory certainty.

You lick your lips, leaning back in your stool, tugging your glass of champagne with you.

“Maybe I wanted the company.”

“Or maybe… you wanted me to follow you here.”

Every muscle in his body is tense, drawn taut as a tightrope, coiled tight as a spring.

You sigh, twisting a single lock of your hair around a finger, examining the ends as if looking for split hairs.

Then, quick as a flash, you’re at each other’s throats — him with a sword poised at your jugular, you with a knife pressed against his stomach.

“One move —” you warn, digging the knife slightly further into his skin. Distinctly, Zoro feels the pressure slice through his thick linen shirt, the cool kiss of the blade against his abdomen. And he’s killed enough by now to know that you’ve picked a major artery — one that would hurt, and take minutes for him bleed out. Just long enough for him to suffer, but not enough to get help.

The edge of his mouth ticks upward — not bad.

It’s then, in the infinitesimal flicker of your eyes meeting his, that he realizes who you are.

He nearly topples back, jerking away slightly with the revelation. Your eyes go wide, jolted by his sudden movement. But he’s quick enough to evade the sharp jab of your knife and a second later, you’re on either ends of the tavern, drawn blades and bared teeth.

“Y-you!” the word rips from Zoro like an unripe scab, thick and hard and still bloody underneath.

You lick your lips, eyes narrowing to slits beneath your long, lanky hair.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The hell you don’t.”

“Oi! No fighting in the bar!” the barkeep’s voice is gruff and loud, and for a second, Zoro wonders if you’ll listen. The next, the sharp clang of metal on metal stuns him backwards a few steps as you wrest your knives from between two of his katanas, snarling.

“If you’re so much of a gentleman — let’s take this outside.”

“Ladies first,” Zoro spits out as he whips both swords through the air before sheathing them. He makes a show of holding the tavern door for you as you stalk out in front of him, your hackles raised, your knives jutting out from your belt like so many pairs of sharpened claws.

“What do you want?” you ask, as soon as you’re both out of the bar and standing in the moonlit street outside, the wharf to your left, the strip of small, rundown taverns to your right.

The air twangs with the metallic smell of fish and the thick, oppressive sweetness of rotting wood.

“An explanation,” Zoro says, crossing his arms and planting his feet.

“I don’t owe you anything.”

Zoro nods, “Sure. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna know.”

You lick your lips, glaring at him for a second longer before turning and marching down the rickety boardwalk. A moment later, Zoro levels himself with you as you round a corner onto a small stretch of beach, pillowed against a backdrop of sharp, unrelenting rocks, the tips bleached white by the round, silver moon.

“There was a beach just like this,” you say, stepping onto the tide-soaked sand, leaning down to pick up a fragment of a broken seashell, washed ashore by an errant wave.

It takes Zoro a second to realize you’re talking about Shimotsuki village, and the tiny little beach on the other side of the dense, cedar wood.

“Yeah. A bunch of us used to play there — see who can throw rocks out the furthest.”

“You were always the best at that,” you say, your voice softer than he’d heard all night.

“Yeah, well…” Zoro shrugs, leaning down to pick up a piece of rock, weighing it in his palm a few times before whipping his arm back to snap it into the gentle, shushing waves. You both watch as the rock skids out over the water before plunking into the sea, “Guess I’ve always been kind of a show-off.”

The sound of your laughter sends summertime sparklers racing up his spine.

The quiet pools between you like spilt blood, rank and dripping.

“So. You go by Ms. Double Nines now, I heard,” Zoro says, in a flagging attempt to be casual as he turns to glance at you, both his hands resting on the hilt of his swords.

You stand next to him, your eyes focused on a point far out on the horizon, still as statue.

“What’s it to you?”

Zoro sighs, looking down. In the pale, cool moonlight, his earrings glint like baring teeth.

“What happened?”

You suck in a breath.

"Life happened,” you say, turning back towards him with a steely glint in your eyes. Zoro stiffens, his grip tightening on his swords as he sizes you up. He does the mental calculations — you’re just far enough for him to defend against an attack, but close enough where if things were to go south entirely, he’d have a hard time getting back to safety.

You grin, seemingly noticing his rough internal calculations.

“Do yourself a favor, Roronoa — and don’t ask questions you don’t wanna know the answers to,” you say, flicking out one of your blades and tossing it up into the air, only to catch it around your finger, swinging it round and round, the sharp edge of the blade nicking the air just shy of your cheekbone.

“Who said I didn’t want to know?” Zoro presses, bracing himself for a fight.

You chuckle, the sound harsh and mirthless.

“If you’d wanted to fight me properly, you wouldn’t have waited till I got you onto this stretch of deserted beach.”

“Maybe I just wanted a quiet place to kill you.”

“Or maybe…” your voice is so low Zoro almost doesn’t catch the stomach-wrenching longing in your words, “I just wanted a quiet place to die.”

The sharp shink of blades being drawn is heart-rendingly familiar, but the bone-rattling clash of metal on metal still shakes him to the roots of his teeth. Zoro grunts as he parries a blow from either side, before crossing his swords to catch your assault down the center.

You’re fast, he’ll give you that, your body smaller and quicker. You slip through the shadows with the comfort of a person who knows nothing but and he can’t help wondering at the life you’ve led that had pushed you to this point.

To having a mark on your back, a bounty on your head.

You’re a good fighter — this much, he acknowledges. But good isn’t usually good enough to best him. This much, he also knows. Yet somehow, you’re keeping up, somehow, you’re pushing him back, forcing him to retreat one step and then another. It’s not until you duck beneath one of his pin-wheeling blades and force yourself into a knife’s-breath of his space that he realizes — it isn’t that you’re good, it’s that you’re reckless.

Reckless with your own body in a way that makes him stumble back at the realization. Reckless, in the way you charge forward and thrust your body into spaces where he’d easily be able to slip a blade between your ribs — and later, when he’s wiping his swords clean of your oxidizing blood, he’d wonder why he didn’t.

Still, there’s something terrifying in the way you barely flinch when he knicks your arm, drawing a dark line of blood through your clothes, or how you jerk yourself forward when the tip of his sword catches your stomach, almost as if daring him to impale you in one fell swoop.

“You — you used to be… someone else,” he says, panting as he steadies himself against a sharp jut of moonlit rocks. Behind you, the ocean churns, dark and foaming as it throws itself onto the jagged reefs.

You lick your lips, wiping a smear of blood from your cheek. Your chest heaves with the exertion, but there’s a pale, flickering ache behind your eyes that sets Zoro’s whole body on edge.

He shivers as you grin, savage and unrecognizable as the tiny girl with mochi-round cheeks who had once upon a time offered him sweets in a hand-woven basket.

“Yeah? Well — so did you.”

TAGLIST: @brairslair @msheds0519 @yunabelless @lynndt-chocolate @lostonthrillerbark @stunies @tsumu-senpai @phroggii @ssailormoonnn @breathinginyoursmoke @guridoodles @kyllium @naomihatake @itoshiexx @mythicallystupid @mars-mizuko @astroniii @crispynutella @enhastolemyheart @fanficwriter101 @jamesbparker @dira333 @weirdowithaphone @ink-perfect

[thef1diary]

Little Big Fan | Fifteen

— Little Big Aftermath [aka the end]

Series Masterlist

wc: 3k

we’ve made it to the end guys! I just have to say I never thought I’d complete this story and that too fifteen parts of it but to all those who read it and motivated me to keep writing, thank you. While it is the end of the official story, I will continue to take requests for blurbs on specific scenes you’d like to see. However, there won’t be a set posting date on these blurbs, it’ll be out whenever it’s requested and completed. Once again, thank you so much for those who were here since the first chapter, and here’s to more fic series in the future. P.S lemme know if you want to be tagged in the blurbs.

Your frown grew deeper as you turned in the direction your daughter had pointed, unfortunately spotting Tyler. Luckily, he wasn't looking at you two since he was focusing on the podium celebrations about to happen.

"I didn't know daddy was here, mama." Picking Isabella up, you shook your head, "I didn't know either, angel, but let's focus on Max for now okay?"

She gave a nod of agreement and applauded for the drivers, Oscar and Lando in particular, who finished second and third in the race. She did, however, cheer the loudest when Max, as he has done after almost every race this season, stepped onto the top step of the podium.

He was having trouble finding you and Isabella right away in the crowd, and you could see the slightest frown forming on his face until a smile emerged when he succeeded, connecting his gaze with yours.

Isabella giggled as Max held his hand up to wave at her before blowing a kiss in the air in your direction. His behaviour drew Lando and Oscar's attention to you as well, with the former driver rolling his eyes at Max jokingly and Oscar smiling at the interaction.

However, you didn't realize that someone else was also looking at you because your gaze didn't waver away from Max.

The champagne bottles were popped, and this time Isabella was awake to see it all, watching with fascination as it was the first time she was able to see it in person. "I wanna do that, mama," she pointed at the drivers spraying the alcoholic drink, soaking each other's race suits while laughing. "Maybe when you're older, Bella."

"When I'm 7?" She asked, and you chuckled, "a little more than that, sweetheart."

Once the celebrations were over, a huge part of the crowd dispersed, the teams resuming to their usual scheduled routines, preparing for post-race debriefs and other meetings. "Where's Maxy going?" Isabella asked, watching as he was led away by someone clad in a RedBull uniform.

"He's a little busy with interviews, but he told me that he'd come back as soon as he's done," you explained, knowing that Max had a post-race conference and a few other duties lined up.

Isabella huffed, "but he won the race." She rested her head on your shoulder for a moment while playing with a strand of your hair—the habit formed back when she was a few months old.

"Yeah he did, which means he's very famous right now and so many people want to talk to him," you explained and while she nodded in understanding, she still pouted, "I wanna talk to him too."

"Why don't we wait for him inside his driver's room?" You asked, turning around when she nodded.

You had almost reached Max's driver room—a place he had suggested for you and Isabella to stay to wait for him, but pausing in a secluded area as a familiar voice called out, "Isabella!" then heard your name as well. Isabella squirmed in your lap, wanting to get down after seeing Tyler walk up to you both. You sighed, knowing that you'd have to stop and chat.

"Tyler," you greeted, and awkwardness hung in the air for two seconds before Isabella decided to speak up. "Daddy, you said you were busy, what are you doing here?"

Despite her hesitance to stay at her father's place, which she still hasn't done since the day she was discharged from the hospital, she frequently spoke to him over the phone.

Unfortunately for him, Isabella rarely forgets promises. While he was busy playing the "good father" role after your ultimatum, he had make false promises, agreeing to everything she asked for without hearing her out properly. In that conversation, she asked about the promise he made of taking her to a race before she had met Max.

While you and Max had taken her once, she still wanted to experience the thrill with her father since he was the one who introduced the sport to her.

He glanced at you, silently asking if he did in fact claim that he was busy, and frowned when you nodded. "Oh Bella, sweetheart, I didn't know that I would have the time to be here, it was an unexpected decision or else I would've brought you along, but you're here anyways!" He tried to uplift her mood, but instead of hanging on to every word he spoke like she used to do, she just shrugged.

Deciding to divert the topic of conversation, Tyler asked, "did you enjoy the race?" He stepped forward, kneeling down to be closer to her but on instinct, Isabella moved away, clutching on to your hand tightly.

He frowned, once again glancing up at you after noticing her behaviour, but you didn't let an ounce of emotion show on your face. "I'm so happy Maxy won!" She exclaimed, her mood improving for a moment as she thought about him.

Standing up to his full height, Tyler looked at you, "why don't we sit and chat for a moment?" Pressing your lips together in a tight smile, you replied, "I don't think that's a good idea."

He scoffed, then shrugged, "fine, have it your way like always." You were not in the mood to indulge his stupid comments which would eventually lead to an argument, in fact you were here to enjoy the weekend with your boyfriend who you dearly missed in this moment.

His eyes widened briefly when you didn't respond to his comment, wondering how you changed so much in a matter of a few weeks that you couldn't care less about him anymore.

"Hey Bella, why don't you show daddy the caps that you got?" You prompted another topic, that Isabella quickly agreed to. Tyler's gaze remained on you for a moment, understanding that you truly had no intention on speaking to him longer than necessary. The conversations you did have were only necessary due to your daughter, but even those texts and calls started becoming less and less frequent.

Isabella took off her Red Bull cap, which had autographs from Max and Checo, to expose a Ferrari cap with two more signatures from Charles and Carlos, and then a McLaren cap that undoubtedly featured two signatures from Oscar and Lando. She caught up to Lando and Charles, who had given her their hats earlier, as well as their teammates, to obtain signatures. She then wanted to get autographs on her RedBull cap as well. When she asked Max and Checo, they chuckled with the latter claiming she had them all at her beck and call, but they nevertheless signed the cap.

Isabella ended up stacking all three caps on her head because she couldn't choose which one best matched with her outfit. She began explaining the story behind the signatures, and Tyler intently listened, asking a few questions in between as well.

"And then-" Isabella's gaze wandered off, eyes lighting up in excitement as she spotted, "-Maxy!"

Without any hesitation she ran up to him, colliding with him as she tried to wrap her arms around him, earning a low, "oof" from him.

Picking her up and settling her on his hip, holding her up with one arm, he held up his other hand that had a medal hanging from it. Max placed the medal around Isabella's neck, which he received on the podium earlier along with his trophy. "We won, princess," he commented, smiling as wide as she did.

She held both of her hands up, imitating the action Max did as he held his trophy on the podium, causing him to laugh. You watched the interaction with a smile on your face, and could hear their laughter from a few feet away.

Walking towards you as Max was initially planned on doing, he noticed a man next to you, which based on your descriptions was Tyler. He decided to overlook him for now, instead greeting you with a kiss to your cheek.

Tyler held his hand out, "great race, congratulations on the championship. I'm a huge fan by the way." Max, nodded politely, still holding Isabella in his arms but shaking his hand nonetheless. "Thank you," he prompted, waiting for the man to introduce himself to confirm his suspicions.

"Oh, so you're Tyler." Max glanced at you for a moment, watching as you tried to hide your smile behind your hands because of his antics. "Why do you say it like it's a bad thing?" He questioned, and Max was quick to retort, "well, it's not really the best thing now is it?"

"I don't understand," he trailed off, and your boyfriend shrugged, "I figured you wouldn't understand, it's okay," he patted Tyler's shoulder in faux consolation. You had to take a step back so Tyler wouldn't see your expression, placing a hand over your mouth to muffle your laugh.

Tyler was quick to catch on to the condescending tone Max spoke with, looking at you—after you composed yourself fortunately. "So what, you get invited to one race and you guys are best friends now?" He asked, a hint of jealousy you were familiar with revealed in his tone.

"More like she's my girlfriend and they're here to support me," Max clarified. Tyler looked at Max, then Isabella, finally understanding why she was always so enamoured by him.

He scoffed, "oh great, enjoy my sloppy seconds then mate, I will warn you though, it's not worth it because a few months later she'll show you a positive pregnancy test and force you to be a father."

Your jaw dropped, instantly responding, "in front of my daughter?" You glanced at Isabella who was in fact hearing all the words spoken, only frowning due to yours and Max's expressions as she didn't understand the full context of the words her father had said, just knowing that it wasn't good.

Max wiped his hand over his mouth, jaw clenching while his warm gaze turned cold within seconds. "Apologize, now," he instructed, trying to hold himself back from causing a fight.

"Now why would I do that? It's true." Max placed Isabella back on her feet who quickly shuffled over to you, standing behind your legs. "How dare you stand here claiming to be my fan yet talk shit about the person I love?" The driver placed his hand on Tyler's shoulder again, but this time you could see the fear bubbling up in his eyes as his grip tightened.

Still, Tyler managed to scoff, "love? Bold claims there. Sorry to break it to you but she's probably just with you for your mon-" he couldn't finish his sentence because he was punched square in the jaw by your boyfriend.

"Max!" You shrieked, and watching the interaction, Isabella held on to your hands tightly with tears welling up in her eyes. You picked her up again, noticing that Tyler was fuming in anger. "Gonna fucking sue you for that," he spit out some blood, but Max only shrugged, "try me."

Fortunately, you guys were stood in between the team motorhomes, which meant you were slightly hidden away from public eye due to the buildings covering the scene.

Readying himself for another punch if needed, you shook your head, "it's not worth it, Max."

"Yeah Max, listen to your girlfriend," he taunted, angering you in the process. "Will you ever shut up?" You shot back. Max glanced at Isabella who had hid her face in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped around you. Although he couldn't see her face, he guessed that her eyes were tightly shut.

Nodding as a silent agreement with Max, you decided to walk away from the scene as you didn't want to expose Isabella to any more of this argument than what she has already heard. Glancing at Max once more, you hoped that your expression was indicating something along the lines of, "don't do anything too bad."

However, you could hear Max's words as he began speaking to Tyler, "listen here you little shit..." but you didn't stick around to hear the entire conversation, smiling to yourself knowing that Tyler would finally be put into his place—that too by his favourite driver.

Finally entering his driver's room, you sat down on the couch sighing in relief. Isabella was still in your lap and you ran your hand up and down her back in a soothing motion because you could feel her sniffling against you. "Bella," you murmured, wanting to see her adorable face.

"I'm so sorry you had to see that, sweetheart." You kissed her head before brushing your hand through her hair. You heard her mumble but didn't catch her words, "what was that?"

She lifted her head to look at you, and you frowned seeing the tears staining her cheeks. "Why is daddy so mean? I don't like him."

"Some people are just mean for no reason, and unfortunately, your daddy is one of them," you explained, no longer covering for him knowing that after what Isabella witnessed, she wouldn't want to be near him no matter what you said.

She frowned but didn't respond, leaning her head against your shoulder again. You didn't disturb her peace, knowing that after the eventful day, she needed some quiet time.

Max entered the room a few minutes later, and he smiled to greet you but it fell flat. He pointed at Isabella, then put his thumbs up to silently ask if she was okay, but you shrugged.

"What did you say to him?" You asked, knowing that whatever conversation followed probably wasn't kind. "I told him that I'd ban him from future races if I saw him anywhere near you or Bella, and he left."

You knew that it probably wasn't that easily done, but you didn't ask for more details.

You had thought Isabella fell asleep since she hadn't moved in a while, nor could you see her face, but she lifted her head up to look at Max once she heard some shuffling about in the room.

He paused as soon as his gaze connected with hers, unsure of how to initiate a conversation because he did literally punch her father. Isabella wiggled off your lap, and both you and Max thought that she would walk away further into the room so her next action surprised you both. Running towards Max, she held her arms out, engulfing him in a hug.

"You're better than my dad, Maxy," she muttered, and he audibly sighed, the stress wrinkles on his face disappearing while wrapping his own arms around her smaller frame.

"Thank you, princess," he whispered back, and she pulled back to kiss his cheek. Isabella looked back at you, smiling when she saw you smile as well. "Thank you for taking care of my mama," your daughter told Max, and his heart warmed at her words. "Always."

The ring of your phone interrupted the beautiful sight in front of you, but your eyes widened when you saw that it was your mother calling. As soon as you pick it up, you're greeted by hearing your full name.

"Hi, mum," you stood up and walked further away just in case you were about to get a scolding although you had no idea what you could've possibly done. "Why didn't you tell me?" She asked.

"Tell you what?" You answered with a question of your own, knowing that she could be referring to anything at the moment. "That you have a boyfriend."

Your mouth dropped open, "how do you know that?" She chuckled, "because a friend of mine called me and told me that she just watched you kiss someone on live television, some racer guy."

Covering your mouth with your hand, you thought back to the moment Max kissed you in front of the huge crowd after getting out of his car, and of course there had to be cameras capturing the moment. "Max, he's a Formula 1 driver," you explained.

"Wait, the same Max that Bella talks about?" You hummed, "the same one."

"I'm glad you finally moved on from your daughter's father, but I'm also sad that you didn't tell me sooner and I looked foolish because I didn't know until my friend told me about it."

"I'm sorry, I didn't think my relationship would be broadcasted live. Plus, I think the chapter with Tyler is finally over, for both me and Isabella."

"That's good to hear, she doesn't deserve a father like him. Is Max good to you?"

"He's the best to both of us, she lights up with joy every time she sees him." Your mother hummed as she heard your response, "then me and your father have to meet him one day."

You heard some laughter in the next room where Max and Isabella were, and you smiled at your mother's words, "I hope we can come by soon, I'd love to introduce him to you and dad."

After saying goodbyes and promises to meet soon, you returned to the room Max and Isabella were in, pausing in the doorway at the sight in front of you. Just like how Isabella was sitting in your lap earlier with her head against your shoulder, she did the same to Max.

You were about to make your presence known when you heard your daughter's question. "Maxy, why do you call me princess?"

Max's gaze found yours, always finding you whether you were standing in the corner of the room or in a crowd. "Because your mama is the queen," he responded casually, as if he was stating a fact.

Isabella lifted her head, "does that make you the king?" He shrugged, "I guess it does."

She giggled, "and does that mean we get a happily ever after like the storybooks?" Max reached his hand out towards you, asking you to join them which you obliged to easily.

"Ours is better than the storybooks," he stated, placing a kiss on Isabella's forehead before pecking your lips briefly.

The End.

Taglist: @xjval @mrsmaybank13 @cherry-piee @urfavnoirette @solphin @burningcupcakefire @nessacarty1 @dreamsarebig @omgsuperstarg @wonnou @fanficweasley @redbullgirly @llando4norris @randomgirlnumber13 @dark-night-sky-99 @chanshintien @leilanixx @gisellesprettylies @peachiicherries @monsieurbacteria6 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @arian-directioner @distancedss @morenofilm @sachaa-ff @lighttsoutlewis @teamnovalak @casperlikej @sadg3 @d3kstar @lewisvinga @lpab @queenofmanydreams @honethatty12 @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @its-avalon-08 @yourbane @oconswrld @noneofyourfbusinessworld @ssrcsm @softtina @hockeyboysarehot @formulaal @namgification @tallrock35 @bloodyymaryyy @formulanni @ellouisa17 @phantomxoxo @samantha-chicago

[pedgito]

𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 | Joel Miller x reader x Tommy Miller

↝ series masterlist | masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | a moment of desperation and a kind gesture leads you down an inescapable path alongside two brothers and a town with a nasty secret

author's note | so. its been three months and a much needed break from this place, but i started this back in august with a fully fleshed out idea and then my motivation fell flat. i had a good chunk of this done and i love it too much to not post, even if just for myself. this will be two parts, this one and one coming in the near future. its so self-indulgent and not everyone's cup of tea. but an extra special thank you to the special and lovely people i talked about this with and that took a look at for me, i love you endlessly.

content warning | 18+ smut, dubious consent (relating to cannibalism), cannibalism, gore, mentions of violence, blood, demeaning language, joel is a hardass, high tension and angst, joel has weird kink relating to...you guessed it, this story is heavily joel leaning but tommy is a decent part of it, smut (oral), night swims, food/feeding tw, joel is a bit of creep here. please heed the warnings and pass if it's not your thing.

word count —14k

Long, desolate roads led you here. No telling how long you had until you would find the city skyline again, car running on fumes for the last ten miles, the sign at the end of the road pulling your attention up, eyes peering through the windshield as your car veered to the right and to a full stop.

Miller’s Farm, next right

Helped wanted, no experience needed

Hourly pay and lodging included

You had fifty bucks left in cash and half of that would go toward gas if you could find a gas station, your arms crossed over the steering wheel and blocked the blow to your forehead as you rested it against your forearms in frustration.The car’s AC was shotty at best, requiring you to hit it every half hour to keep it alive and even then it was a weak sputtering and a barely there chill that did nothing to quell the layer of sweat on your skin.

It takes several long, frustrating minutes before you decide that you don’t have any other option.

You were stranded, this was it.

Maybe hospitality extended this far out into the country, that even this far from the city there were still a few good, decent people around. With a deep, heavy sigh you exit the car and shove your key into the door, locking it and pocketing the keys into the pack slung over your shoulder.

It’s been weeks on the road, leaving pieces and pieces of you behind as you traveled. The lesser the weight, the lesser the burden. Were you running? You weren’t sure. But, staying in one place for too long made you antsy. Town to town, taking odd jobs where they were offered, living off the kindness of others in hopes of making it somewhere seaside.

Start a new life, forget about your past.

Austin wasn’t supposed to be your final stop, or even a detour, but the steps you took down the side of the road and toward the farm in the distance would be another place of temporary sanctuary. Hopefully.

Eventually the asphalt turns to dirt, kicking up gravel under your feet as you walk and covering your skin in a thin layer of fresh grime and sweat under the high noon sun. The barn, once a far-off dot, was now large and vibrant, that distinct red popping out amongst the rest of the dilapidated property, void of most color outside of dull brown. There was a house to the left, cluttered with a melody of things. Tools, furniture, plants, and things you couldn’t even recognize. 

You squint, hand over your brow like a makeshift visor as you look around and hope to see someone, anyone—this couldn’t be the wrong place?

A truck under the hastily built carport and a trailer attached to the hitch—someone was home. You look around carefully, peering over your shoulder and finding nothing. There was no wind, no noise, and your breath caught in your throat. 

Maybe this was the time to turn back and attempt your chances elsewhere.

The front door opening with a creak has your head whipping back over your shoulder to set sights on the person in front of you—a man, tanned skin and tall. He was stocky but lean, black hair tucked behind his ears and trimmed just above his shoulders. He looked clean, which was more than you could say for yourself. All clean-cut man, jeans and a casual shirt, boots tucked under his jeans as his hand curled around the front door of the house and half of his figure leaned out.

“Can I help you, darlin’?” The twang flows out of his mouth naturally, taking a few steps out of the house before he’s closing the door behind him and following the small path of the front yard masked with clutter until he’s near you, a few feet away. “You lost?”

“I—I saw the sign?” You implore, jutting your thumb over your shoulder in the direction of the road, “My car ran out of gas, I’m out of money and it’s hot. I was just hoping for some work to help get me back on my feet and out of your hair as quickly as possible.”

The man nods, readying to open his mouth before you continue.

“I don’t mind the work, I’m not picky. I don’t have a resume or anything, but I promise—”

“Woah, slow down,” You can hear the amusement, a smirk pulling at his face and you chew at your bottom lip nervously, fingers twisting around the straps of your backpack, “We’re not lookin’ for some hoity toity types with degrees—you comfortable gettin’ dirty?”

You glance down at your clothes, a few days without a shower and driving down sideroads with your windows down has made you look worse for wear, “Absolutely. I just need the money and a bed, couch even—you won’t even know I’m here if that’s an issue for you. I can keep busy.”

You glazed over the we in his response, looking around curiously again.

He extends his hand unexpectedly, “I’m Tommy,” He introduces and you take his hand softly, feeling him squeeze firmly at your grip and the smirk in his face soften into a smile, “listen—we don’t do the whole hirin’ process. I gotta run it by my brother Joel and there’s a few cautionary steps we gotta take due to the work, but we can give it a test run? See how you feel?”

You felt inclined to ask what the work was, but you decided not to be picky.

And like a dinner bell had been rung, the other man appears out of the barn.

Joel, a stark difference to his brother in stature and cleanliness but the resemblance was uncanny in the way they carried themselves. A similar stride that felt intimidating, broad shoulders stretched out over taught muscle and a matching resting scowl on his face.

Something told you his expression was more permanent, though. His brow pulls together, eyes squinting as he looks you over. He was wiping at his dirtied hands with a rag, a sheen of maroon drying to brown that you could only assume was blood. 

It was a farm. Animals. That meant slaughter. 

The thought of it didn’t make you vomit initially, so you considered that a good thing.

It takes one look and he’s giving a disparaging shake of his head, turning his head toward his brother to offer his opinion, “Ain’t worth the trouble.”

You instantly grimace, offering a less than subtle look of distaste at that man.

Stubbornness is what he notices immediately, but then your eyes are flicking back toward his brother who looks more confused now than when you had first approached the farm.

“You said you were outta gas, right? Just needin’ some extra money?” He confirms and you answer with a simple nod of your head. He looks over at Joel, arms crossing over his chest, “Said she doesn’t mind gettin’ dirty—willing to help out wherever. I’m sure we can find her some work, right?”

Joel looks you over slowly, a predatory gaze that makes you feel infinitely smaller. He was staring through you, seeing the deepest and darkest parts of your soul. His eyes were darker, nearly black and ringed with deep set under eyes from an obvious lack of sleep—whereas Tommy, he was chipper and well-rested, eyes a warm amber and much more inviting.

“You slaughter cattle before?” Joel asks, “Cleaned up shit? Worked on a farm? Anything like that?”

You shake your head but quickly respond before he has a chance to speak, “I don’t care what the work is—I’ll do it. If I need to be taught, I’m willing to learn. I’m a quick learner too.”

Devotion is what he senses at a slower rate, the slow blink of your eyes as they flick between the two brothers—he could give Tommy an ultimatum and turn you away, but something in his gut twists. 

She’s useful, she’s good. Good supply if it came down to that. Given you passed the tests. 

But, there was something lingering in your gaze, yet to be discovered. Joel was curious.

“Send her to the doc, give her the guest room,” Joel tells Tommy after a moment of thought, sounding slightly irritated but it forces out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, “You’ll start work when we know you’re cleared.”

You nod dutifully and Tommy returns a relaxed smile, “It’s a liability thing,” He promises, “and it’s heavy work, better to know if your body can handle it alright before we put you through the ringer.”

“Whatever I need to do,” You return the grin, tracking Joel’s departing figure as he re-entered the barn and disappears, “is he always that angry?”

“Usually,” Tommy replies, rusting around in his back pocket for a set of keys, “I’ll give you a ride to the clinic and we can tow your car here tonight—to keep away anyone tryin’ to scalp it for parts. Sounds good?”

“Sounds perfect,” You agree, wiping at the sweat on your brow with the back of your hand, “but—do you think I could take a quick shower first? It’s just walking in the heat and it’s been a few days...”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah,” Tommy stumbles over his words, but nods for you to follow him inside.

With trepidation, you take your first steps and follow. 

And what you’re expecting is not what is revealed to you. It made sense that the disorganization would spill into the house, but it was nearly spotless. Pristine countertops and polished wooden furniture, a wall of file cabinets and a tucked away nook with a computer set up. It was like entering another dimension, your eyes tracking along the full expanse of the house before they land on Tommy, who’s looking on with that same amusement as earlier.

“It’s a lot of work but I try to keep it clean here,” Tommy admits, “The outside is…all Joel, mostly.”

You shake your head with indifference, holding your hands up in defense.

You weren’t judging, it wasn’t your place.

“The shower is down that hall,” Tommy points toward the central hall, rooms lining each side, “first door on the right—did you—do you have clothes?”

“Only one clean pair left,” You confess, “but I’ll make do.”

“We’ve got clothes, if you need them. Don’t be afraid to ask.”

There’s a responsiveness to Tommy that intrigues you—approachable, kind, a hard disjunction from his counterpart that was like a breath of fresh air. You don’t allow yourself to linger either, making your way to the bathroom with quick footsteps and remaining blind to the rest of the house, hearing a sharp scuffle of a chair that you can only assume is Tommy as he sits and waits.

It was the easiest predicament you've dealt with in the last few months. But you weren’t, not even for a moment, going to question it.

-

It’s a small building near the edge of the town, only a half hour drive from the farm and sat in some silence, you find out a slow trickling of information that Tommy shares, his elbow propped against the open window and the other gripping tight around the steering wheel, his hair a wind-blown mess.

“It’s been in our family for years,” he tells you, traveling down the quiet road and the low hum of the radio mingling with his voice, “s’why it's a mess—can’t be bothered to part with some of that junk.”

“I’m not judging.”

Tommy offers a look of skepticism, laced with a smile.

“It is a lot of stuff,” you grin in response, a subtle quirk at the corner of your mouth.

“Joel is a little sentimental,” Tommy adds, “he’s always been like that—harder for him to let shit go.”

You respond with a gentle nod as Tommy pulls into the parking lot of the clinic, exiting the truck with a swiftness before he’s at the passenger side and opening your own door, “Oh—that is really not necessary—”

“My momma would be rollin’ in her grave otherwise,” Tommy gripes playfully as his fingers curl around the open door, “so, just let me, alright?”

You don’t argue, chivalry be damned.

There isn’t much to be confused about as you step inside the clinic with Tommy in tow. He takes a seat near the door and the doctor, an old man with a limp and someone who refers to Tommy as son—he earns a casual nod in return and then you’re led beyond the door to the hall of other rooms.

It was a very typical line of questions, a general physical, and a blood draw that he promised would be pushed through quickly for the benefit of allowing you to work as soon as possible.

You try desperately to ignore the particular aura about the old man, thin-wired glasses perched on his sharp nose, age spots littering his face and bald head—but the most glaring is the missing pinky fingers on both hands. It was so clean cut and well-healed that you assume it could be something he was born with, but the moment he spots you noticing, he seems to switch gears.

“You’re all good here,” he tells you, “If anything comes up I’ll give the Miller’s a call—you’re lodging there, right?”

Your left eyebrow raises slightly, nodding hesitantly in response.

“Gotten a few like you before,” he comments oddly, “I’m not passing any judgment, it’s just a question.”

“Yeah—yeah I am. Staying there.” 

Increasingly creeped out as the seconds pass you breathe a sigh of relief as he allows you to leave, meeting Tommy at the front door with a less than comfortable expression. His eyes press a silent question but you shrug it off, hearing him bid a polite goodbye over your shoulder as you walk toward the truck.

Eventually, settled into the truck as Tommy turned over the ignition, he responds with comfort, “He ain’t the most approachable guy,” he admits, “but he’s been helpin’ us for years.”

That was one way of putting it.

“Hopefully I pass with flying colors then.”

Tommy shrugs, backing out of the parking lot with his arm thrown over the passenger seat, feeling the slight touch of his fingertips against the back of your neck through the headrest, “We can figure somethin’ out anyways, seeing as you’re more than eager,” Tommy grins, teeth peeking through, “I like that.

–

Tommy gives you a proper tour when you arrive back, nothing extensive but he does walk you around the property. He shows you the animal pens; pigs, goats, a few cows wandering around the pasture. And the barn, but he doesn’t enter. You note the lock hanging from the doors, clunky and rusted but securing the doors closed.

The inside of the house is less of a mystery, following Tommy as he lead you into the kitchen and showed off the expensive counter space and deep set sink—if they didn’t put a lot of effort into cooking then you didn’t understand the reasoning for the size, but as the thought floods your mind, Tommy plucks it out and answers it.

“Joel is a better cook than me,” he admits, “another bonus, home-cooked meals, a lot of our meats are ethically-sourced—” The look you shoot his way is quizzical.

“Grass-fed and they’re free to roam and forage for the most part, we’re not stuffin’ them full of grain feed to fatten ‘em up. We try to keep things humane. Joel deals with most of the dirty work and I stick to numbers and talkin’,” he explains, “he ain't’ much for socializing.”

Joel enters at the mention of himself, grunting as he steps beyond the threshold. His coveralls hung around his waist, tied at the hips and the dirty undershirt stretched tight over his broad chest. He peeled off his boots at the door and Tommy leaned against the counter lazily, one foot crossed over the other as he folded his arms and looked over at you, eyes slowly dragging to his brother. 

“She cleared?” He asks briskly, “Or we sendin’ her on her merry way?”

“Joel,” Tommy chastises and Joel smirks, taking a quick glance over at you, “doc said he’d call in the morning and let us know, we can spare a meal and a bed for a night.”

Almost as if you two weren’t even there, he strips off his dirtied shirt and works at the tie around his hips with the hand free of the balled up cloth, “Hope you like mess, girl.”

“I’m not picky,” You shrug, resting your hands loosely against your hips as he walks toward the same hallway you had traveled down earlier, “A little mud and grime won’t kill me.”

Joel chuckles softly at that, fully disparaging, “Blood make you squeamish?”

You shake your head, noting the caked bits of dried blood tucked in the crook of his arms and the creases of his neck, a faint pink tint from his chin down, “As long as it isn’t mine.” 

Tommy seems to tense at your wording, his arms flexing tight as he eyed his brother under a downturned gaze, staying quiet under the domineering energy his brother exuded.

“She might just survive ‘round here,” he directs at his brother, a smarmy remark although more boastful than he had been since the first time he spoke, but the distaste for you still lingered, oozed right out of the disingenuous smirk crossing his face.

He ain’t much for socializing.

It would only take a few weeks, you think. A few weeks and a couple cash payments and you could move onto the next place on your never-ending roadmap. You feel yourself breathing out a sigh of relief as Joel disappears, not realizing how long you had been holding it in.

“S’much as I’d like to have nice home-cooked meal, I think it’d be better if I grab some dinner from the dinner down the road,” Tommy offers, keys clutched in his grip as he rocks on his heels, “I’m gonna pick up your car on the way back, like I promised.”

And then he smiles, again. But, there’s a moment when it finally reaches his eyes and you can’t help but return the gesture, “I…think I’ll hide out in the guest room until you come back,” you admit, pointing toward the hallway, “no offense to your brother, but—”

“Don’t take it personally,” Tommy assures, “don’t let ‘em intimidate you, either.”

Fight fire with fire. 

It wasn’t your forte, but you were hellbent on survival and you would adapt if you had to.

-

You’ve spent the last half hour sorting through a puzzle on your haphazardly made bed, chin tucked into your palm, eyes tracking over the pieces until you could find a suitable match and slotting it into place before repeating the process. The deft shift and click of a door being shut pulls your attention upright, assuming it was Tommy, you clamber out of bed.

What you aren’t expecting is the solid chest that slams into your side, senses overwhelmed with the strong smell of aftershave and clean body wash—it wasn’t a particular scent, just…clean.

You look over, find Joel with a perturbed look on his face, a dinner plate hovering above your head and his expression turning more and more grim as time passes. “Sorry,” you mumble, “thought you were Tommy.”

“I look like Tommy to you?”

You tilt your head, expression pinching together in annoyance. 

Intimidation, just like Tommy had mentioned.

“Yeah,” you respond coarsely, “but at least he’s not acting like someone shit in his food—do you treat everyone like this who comes through here? Is that why you can’t keep people around here?”

His arms drop then, strutting past you with heavy footsteps as he makes his way to the sink, dropping the dirty dishes and pressing his hands into the edge of the center island that sat opposite the line of cabinets and countertops.

“You runnin’?” Joel asks curiously, ignoring your initial question. “Cops gonna come lookin’ for you?”

You balk, offended by his asinine line of questioning. 

“That’s none of your business,” you respond to the first question before spitting out a venomous, “No—what? Scared of a couple cops? Are you hiding something, Joel?”

That seems to strike a nerve decently enough that he rises, creeping around the edge of the island until he’s striding toward you, a hair's breadth away as you swallow hard.

You couldn’t help it—he was large, intense, intimidating without trying. He didn’t have to speak, the image of him did the work itself. Even as he looked more approachable, clean clothes and a freshly shaven face down to a thin layer of stubble, almost normal in appearance. But, there’s rage behind his eyes. It simmers slowly, a creeping boil that would come back to bite you if you allowed it.

“No,” he responds truthfully—at least, it seemed that way. His voice never wavered or faltered, he was strong and believable with his words, “but two things you ‘oughta know—one, don’t go snooping around where your nose doesn’t belong. Two, keep to yourself in this town.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You don’t wanna find out,” he responds without hesitation, both of you snapping out of the intensity of the conversation as the front door slides open, a very focused Tommy stepping through the door with hands full of styrofoam containers full of greasy burgers and fries.

“Nice,” Tommy notes humorously, “you two didn’t kill each other.”

Yet.

“Got us burgers for dinner,” he explains, holding up the bags, “that alright?”

Joel clears his throat, hand wiping over his tired expression, “Already ate,” he responds short, clipped. Tommy doesn’t question it, but his eyes immediately catch on you, wondering what he had interrupted as he sees your body relax when Joel steps away. But, he shakes it off, offering a lazy grumble of a noise in response to his brother as he drops the food on the nearby dining table.

The dichotomy in the pairing is strange and you can’t comprehend how they’ve managed to co-exist as roommates, let alone siblings. But, they were also strangers. You had nothing but assumptions racking your brain, so you pushed it away.

Eat, sleep, and face the next day with a different attitude. A fresh start.

–

The morning was met with a rustling of two other occupants as they moved about beyond the barrier of your room, voices muffled but constant as they carried on amidst your dreary haze, rubbing at your eyes tiredly. It had been weeks since you’ve slept in a decent bed, not the backseat of your car or a mattress that felt like sleeping on a wall of bricks. You didn’t have a reason to complain and given the circumstances—a roof over your head, a space to yourself.

You’d be stupid to argue otherwise.

There’s a quick whistle behind the closed door to your room, followed by a gentle knock.

“Come in,” you say groggily, muffling out the end with a yawn as you stretch your tight limbs and watch as Tommy peaks his head through the open door, already showered and primed up for the day, his gaze lingers on you for a while and watches quietly. It should make you feel uncomfortable, but it does quite the opposite as you offer a shy smile, “—is this the part where you tell me I have to leave? 

Your hands slap the comforter as he widens the door, letting it thud silently against the wall as he leans against the doorframe, hip cocked into his right hand.

“No, you’re all clear,” he tells you, nodding over his shoulder, “we’ve got a few things for you to do this morning but I wanted to keep it light and let you get adjusted.”

You nod lazily and push yourself out of bed, rubbing at the goosebump chill that spreads over your arms as you feel the kick of cooled air spread through the room, “Enjoy it,” Tommy remarks, “ain’t gonna feel that good outside.”

Tommy departs with his trademark grin, albeit more subdued by his tired eyes as he knocks his fist against the doorframe. But, as you’re heading for the bathroom across the hall, Joel finds you again. 

He’s dressed for what you can only assume is a long day of work, thick pants paired with an even thicker shirt, skin covered from his neck to his feet and far too stuffy for the sticky humidity outside—his job couldn’t be easy and you weren’t faulting him for it, but the scowl on his face is getting under your skin and allowing its claws to find purchase within it.

He takes a sharp bite out of an apple you don’t realize he’s holding until it is pressed against his lips, teeth digging into the skin, juices squirting out with the force of it.

“There’s a full dresser of clothes for you in the corner,” He haphazardly points to the mahogany dresser tucked away in the corner, “different sizes and shit, you’ll have to find something. Since you don’t have nothin’.”

You eye him skeptical but don’t argue, walking toward the dresser and pulling at the top drawer. It was a mix of new socks and underwear, all pressed and fresh in their packages. The next drawer, a mixture of different shirts varying in shades, sizes, designs. Your head turns on a swivel, watching as Joel takes another bite out of the apple, speaking around the food in his mouth.

“People come and go,” he explains vaguely, “always leavin’ stuff behind, so—”

Again, he waves vaguely in your direction. 

“Got it,” you answer curtly, turning your attention away from him.

You shake away the looming cloud of discomfort that Joel leaves in his departure and sift through the clothes—at least they were being hospitable. That was more than enough to allow you to push the uneasiness aside for the time being.

-

Tommy heaves the bucket of dirtied blades and utensils, cutting boards, and a collection of other tools that you weren’t sure you’ve ever seen in your life, all coated with dried, oxidized blood of varying animals, you assume. You didn’t think to ask, didn’t want to know. 

Not yet, anyways.

Tommy rested his elbow against the edge of the bucket, having led you to the back of the house—it was similar to a sunroom, an entire wall of windows that gave you a beautiful view to the fields behind the house. Miles and miles of land, undistributed by the hum of city traffic and noise. The other wall, a dead-on view of the barn that Joel barricaded himself in. Tommy looks over briefly as Joel makes his trek to the locked doors, a metal jug of water in hand, a meat cleaver in the other.

“Well, he’s a ball of sunshine,” you joke before picking through the bucket of items carefully, keeping your fingers clear of the sharp blades, “is this it?”

“Most of it,” Tommy admits, “for now.”

You nod dutifully and watch as he explains things out in a few steps, rules to follow, a method of attack.

“So, just rinse at first with some soap, disinfect with the alcohol, then repeat and lay it out to dry. Pretty simple, but they need to be clean,” he stresses, his teeth peeking out beyond his lips as he stresses the syllable on his tongue, “and always use gloves.” 

He grabs the rubber pair and offers it over before he’s speaking again, this time his words coming a little more hesitantly, “Also—I grabbed your car last night. I was gonna tell you over dinner, but I figured you needed a decent night of sleep.”

“As long as you found it in one piece,” You joke, fitting your hands into the gloves, and the silence has your heart dropping into your gut, “you did, right?”

“Yeah,” his voice wavers with hesitation, eyes squinting slightly in a tell that he wasn’t offering the full truth and you tilt your head, mouth turning down in frustration, “but—it was pretty mangled.” 

“You’re kidding me—”

“Tires were slashed,” Tommy holds his hands up, palm out as he attempts to calm you, “there’s some rowdy kids ‘round here always causing trouble. We’ll figure it out for you, alright?”

Your jaw tenses, teeth clenched behind a tight smile and you nod jerkily. A hard swallow and harsh breath later you’re looking at him with softer, kinder eyes. 

“Thank you, Tommy,” you tell him, “I feel like I’m already causing too much trouble for the both of you, doesn’t help that Joel would rather see me as roadkill than—”

Tommy rubs a finger under your chin to pull your gaze to his, a fleeting touch that has you freezing in place but looking up aptly, eagerly. He scrunches his nose slightly and shakes his head, “Darlin’, we’ve dealt with plenty of trouble. You don’t even come close.”

You laugh slightly, a grin pulling at the corner of your mouth.

Tommy claps his hands together gently before shoving them into his front pockets, looking over his shoulder briefly before his eyes are back on you, “I’m going to start on some paperwork,” he explains, “come find me when you’re done?” 

You nod dutifully, turning to your task as Tommy leaves.

It isn’t hard by any means. It’s like washing dishes if you ignore the prudent smell and extra scrubbing to get the tools completely spotless before you’re running them through the steps that Tommy had listed off, attempting to ignore how weary your arms felt by the end of it.

Your eyes kept flickering toward the barn throughout, wondering if Joel would surface—two hours passed and there wasn’t any sight of him. It was like he lived in there, a nocturnal animal that needed the seclusion and no direct sunlight. It couldn’t be that enjoyable to be held up inside the barn all day.

When you’re finished you carry the bucket into the kitchen and place it on a nearby chair, tracking the back of Tommy’s head. He’s tucked away in the corner at the desk he’d shown you the other day, typing away and sorting through a small stack of papers.

Curiosity kills, so you wander over. 

Peeking over his shoulder, nothing really makes sense.

It’s mostly numbers and an odd mixture of letters, a system that he must have come up with to track the intake of supplies and animals, some of them sorted by what looks like initials. 

Tommy has a pen between his teeth and a calculator at his fingertips, typing away some numbers that add up to an amount that has your eyes bulging out, quickly realizing that this is none of your business.

He acknowledges your presence then, pulling the pen out of his mouth and looking over his shoulder with a curious expression, “Finished already?” 

“Yeah,” you tell him, “I—sorry…if I was supposed to go slow.”

“Oh no, you’re alright,” Tommy turns in his chair, computer screen fading to black behind him, “I still have some stuff to finish up—why don’t you go check and see if Joel needs anything?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Tommy smirks but not in a way to tease or patronize, he understands the presence his brother gives off, all intimidating and mostly unwelcoming.

“Just give a knock on the door,” Tommy instructs, “don’t go inside, he’s really testy about that. If he needs something he’ll answer.”

You compare it to something akin of facing the wrath of some beastly devil, gearing to attack. 

Tommy offers an encouraging nod that you accept on less than enthusiastic legs, turning and heading out the front door with the surety that Joel would either ignore you or stir up some storm like he had the night prior.

He wasn’t nice or cordial, not that he needed to be—but it wasn’t a wonder why they seemed to go through help around the farm, running people off with his hard stares and less than appropriate comments. If making you uncomfortable was his plan, he was succeeding.

-

It’s quiet outside, morning slowly dissolving into afternoon. It’s still hot, feeling the rush of hot air hit your face as you make your way toward the barn, noticing the unlatched lock but remembering Tommy’s words.

Don’t go inside.

You knock, once with no answer. Again, notably drowned out by the rev of a chainsaw and then silence, a loud bang and rustling of dirt as footsteps come closer, instinctively you begin to step back, scampering away slightly as the door swings open just enough the Joel can fit his body between them, blocking you from peering inside over his large frame.

“You need somethin?” Joel asks, his tone tight and his eyebrow arched slightly in question, his finger wrapped tight around the rusted handle of the barn door.

“Tommy said to check if you needed help,” Joel seems to spot your curious eyes as you attempt to peek around his shoulder, his arm raising to curl around the side of the opposite, unopened door and pulling the open space tighter, his eyes peering down at you, “I finished—inside.”

“Already?” His voice is clipped but subtle with surprise, “You're the first one in weeks that ain’t emptied their stomach over that shit.”

It seemed extreme, but you knew that some people couldn’t handle things like blood or guts or even the thought of slaughtering animals. But, to you, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Sure, it was gross, but it wasn’t going to kill you.

“I’ve got a strong stomach,” you argue, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly as your gaze refocuses on him, “besides, I told you blood doesn’t make me squeamish. Did you think I was lying?” 

“Don’t know you,” He shrugs simply, “don’t trust you. Is that what you wanna hear?”

You sigh softly, trying to keep the fraying edges of your temper under control, “Is there anything I can do?”

Joel pauses for a moment, seconds dwindling into a territory that brought you silent discomfort as he looked you over thoughtfully before peering over his shoulder.

“Actually, I got some scraps for the pigs. Think you can handle that?”

You hear the disregard in his tone and take the opportunity while he isn’t staring you down to roll your eyes, just in time as he turns his head to look at you.

“Do you?”

Joel laughs at that. A genuine laugh, though quiet and short, you hear it. It was proof that he had a legitimate emotion outside of the one built around pure disgruntlement.

He disappears for a moment, barn door slamming shut in your face and before you even have time to breathe, he’s back. It's a heavy metal bin full of minced meat and a faint coppery smell that has you turning your head and huffing under the weight as Joel trades the bin off.

He points around the corner, toward the corralled pigs snorting near the entrance to their pin, sending the impending meal you were holding.

“Just throw it in there,” He gestures vaguely at the trough inside the pin, “they’ll eat it right up. Oh, clean up the pin while you’re at it, the tools are in the shed out back.”

You nod slowly, digesting the information and feeling the liquid from the bin seep into the front of your shirt, the sensation making you curl inward, gasping at the coldness of it.

“Shit,” Joel curses, “shoulda gave you the apron, that’s always a messy task.”

He sounds honest, but you stare daggers back in return.

“Next time,” He offers with a half smile that makes you sick, “don’t take too long—if you want dinner.”

“If you’re cooking, I’ll pass.”

Again, Joel chuckles. Twice in the span of five minutes.

God, maybe you were winning him over. 

“I’m a good cook,” he says confidently, though the snideness in his tone lingers but barely, “you’ll regret sayin’ that.”

You snort softly as you shake your head, turning on your heels and toward the pigs, hearing the soft thud of the barn door.

It takes you a half hour to finish the task, grimacing slightly as the pigs frenzy toward their food, leaving you mostly undisturbed as you clean up the pen, catching Joel with his overalls tied around his waist, sweat dripping down his neck and his hair matted to dirty skin. 

He seemed normal like this, natural. Dirtied and grimy, a permanent grimace on his face as he traded places with his brother, who was headed toward their truck.

You catch his eye, a waved offer in return for your smile.

Another moment alone with Joel sounded dreadful and maybe sticking out in the remainder of the hot summer day didn’t sound too horrible now.

But, the poignant smell of the pig pen was enough to turn anyone’s stomach, so you choose dread.

-

You and Joel trade off showers silently, working around each other in a less than comfortable silence, mostly trying your best to avoid him entirely, but you can only bear the avoidance for so long.

Freshly showered and in a clean set of tattered lounge clothes, you round the corner into the kitchen and catch Joel’s back, a white shirt stretched over tight muscle as his back tenses when he reaches for the burner, adjusting the heat on the stove.

His keen hearing clues him in, turning briefly over his shoulder to spot you. His expression is softer, but still mostly guarded. With Tommy not around, he was a wildcard.

“Where’s Tommy?” 

Joel stirs away at the pot full of food on the stove, answering with a casual tone, “Finishin’ up some business in town—you sure you ain’t hungry?”

As if he knows, your stomach growls.

You had managed a decent breakfast and light snacking throughout the day, but the rich aroma of spices makes the food hard to ignore.

You approach curiously, noting the emptied but bloodied casing for the meat he was cooking, cutting board with a few stray vegetable ends and Joel’s gaze flickers to you once, then twice.

“You want a taste?” Joel asks, lifting a spoonful from the pot, his hand hovering under the utensil, spotting your weariness immediately. 

As a show of trust, or just plain good faith, he takes a sip of the broth before shoving the spoonful into his mouth, a clear indication that it was safe to eat.

Not that you thought he would attempt to taint the food, but it did ease your worries and you were hungry despite your feelings toward him, so you nod.

Joel smirks slightly and dips a wooden spoon into the pot again, bringing the food to your lips and watching as you blow, the steam bellowing up in front of your face and you sip gingerly, invaded with a burst of flavorful notes.

It was an instant indication that maybe you had judged Joel too hard on his cooking skills, impressed by how savory the food was, stronger than you’re used to, but it was still pleasant. 

Joel’s eyes are stuck on you, gauging your reaction and his lips twitching as your eyes light up, a gentle nod of approval in response. He plucks a piece of meat from the spoon and raises his eyebrows in question.

You find yourself nodding instinctively and Joel drops the spoon into the pot, guiding the chunk of meat to your lips and you open your mouth willingly, feel the soft press of the food against your tongue and the tenderness of it, like butter as your teeth grind into the meat, feeling the swipe of Joel’s finger as he cleans up dripping line of sauce that slides down your chin.

And it tastes…fine. You wouldn’t dare give Joel the immediate satisfaction that you thought it was good, because it was. It was a perfect, home-cooked meal. Your stomach was craving it, mouth watering even more as you swallowed that first bite.

Joel brings his sauce covered finger to his own lips, pressing the digit inside of his mouth and sucking. He wasn’t wasteful, clearly—savoring every last drop.

“So,” Joel grins wider than he ever has, still sated but it was new, welcoming even, “change your mind?” 

You shrug indifferently, but Joel senses your intrigue.

“I’ll give it a try.”

That’s all Joel needs to hear.

-

Somewhere between your first bite and your last, minimal conversation as you sit and devour the bowl of stew without a single qualm, you fall asleep.

It was a mix of exhaustion and a full belly, slumped against the table and your eyes falling shut despite yourself. Joel cleans quietly, dishes clashing softly as he washes the dirtied ones and wipes them clean, stowing away the leftover stew as peeks over his shoulder.

You’re still sound asleep, plush lips pulling together in a tight line as you sigh, breathing out through your nose. 

Joel rubs his hands over the front of his jeans, ignoring the half-hard jut of his cock against the denim, knowing the moment your lips slipped around that spoon he was a goner. 

He’s never gone that far, he’s never tried. He and Tommy have always kept to themselves and while Tommy didn’t stick to a strict diet of Joel’s preferred meat, he did dabble on occasion.

Joel preferred it, and like his brother, was raised on it.

But, like many of the people that have come and gone, always through the process of ending up as stock for the Miller farm, Joel has never forcibly tried to push their beliefs on anyone.

Unfortunately, Joel had never met someone as intriguing as you. Not nearly as squeamish as the others, even fully grown men shying away from the task of cleaning pig shit out of a pen—you were strong, but stubborn. Joel admired it, but he liked the challenge of breaking it out of you too.

He’d wake you eventually, but for now he watches. Arms pressed against the central counter, keeping him hidden in the darkness as the soft glow of the overhead lamp above the dining table illuminated you.

Joel’s come to recognize things—good bone structure, volume of meat and muscle, all the things that make certain humans the perfect piece of product.

And you were just that. 

A pretty penny.

—

Sometime in the middle of your bleary haze you’d made it to bed, whether with assistance or not you find yourself waking with a turn of your stomach and rolling out of bed in hurried attempt, feeling the force of bile as it made its way up your throat, fumbling loudly with the doorknob until you managed to pry it open.

You make it to the bathroom across the hall just in time to spill the contents of that evening's dinner into the toilet, attempting desperately to keep your wits, arms clenched around your stomach as you heaved relentlessly.

The cold hands come a moment later, icing the back of your neck as they push the hair from your face and offer a soft reassurance.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Tommy’s voice cooed, his cold palm pressing against your forehead as your head lifted to look at him, tears streaming down your face now, “you with me?”

You nod weakly, hearing Joel’s heavy footsteps before you spot him, his stocky frame filling out the doorway.

“Musta been dinner,” Joel supplies to his younger brother, “she’s probably ain’t used to the stuff ‘round here. Less processed, harsher on the stomach when you ain’t had it before.”

Tommy’s gaze lowers, focusing on his brother harshly. It was a look of words unspoken, threatening intention and one that had you holding your breath, wondering if you’d done something wrong. His hand slips down your back, rubbing at the base of your spine. 

In any other circumstance you might find yourself shying away, but you lean into it. He glances over, touching your skin once more. Left cheek, right cheek. You were clammy, mouth suddenly dry and begging for anything to quench the thirst or rid yourself of the sour taste in your mouth.

“Get her some water,” Tommy instructs his brother harshly, “and somethin’ cold, she’s sweating through her clothes.”

Joel doesn’t argue, half-expecting him to put up a fight. He retreats, knowing his wrong-doing but not finding the guilt inside him to care. You’d assimilate eventually, they all do. Him, Tommy, nearly all the townsfolk have learned to adjust to this lifestyle. Unspoken and secret amongst the outliers, it was the way of life around here.

He returns with a glass of water and cold rag, passing them off to his brother, “Don’t run off,” Tommy bites, “we need to talk.”

Joel grinds his teeth at the order, watching as you close your eyes to the glorious press of the cold, wet rag as Tommy squeezed it against your face, your neck, before bringing the glass of water to your lips. A few seconds and one generous gulp later you find yourself cracking a joke amongst the tension, pulling a soft laugh out of the younger brother.

“If you wanted an excuse to feel me up, you could’ve just asked.”

“Oh, pardon me, sweetheart,” Tommy remarks playfully, “I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

Joel sniffles awkwardly, tongue pressing into his cheek as Tommy passes off the items and rises to his feet, nodding toward the hall and motioning for his brother to follow. 

“You need somethin’ you shout, alright?” 

You nod obediently, flushing the toilet weakly before resting your head in your hands, attempting slow breaths to calm your racing heart, waiting for the second wave of sickness to hit you but hoping it never came.

There's a muffled argument on the other side of the wall, the tell-tale sign of Joel's gruff voice, tone clipped and decisive—it was the same way he had spoken to you during your first argument.

-

“What’s our one fucking rule, Joel?” 

Tommy’s voice bites, hushed enough that you wouldn’t be able to hear him, nor Joel as they slowly moved toward the front of the house.

“You're gonna tell me not to do it?” Joel retorts, “I already did. There ain’t nothing to argue.”

There was one thing they both knew for sure.

You weren’t like the others.

“She’s gonna find out,” Tommy assures him, “She’ll find out and then you’ll be the one that’s gotta do the dirty work, not me.”

“Afraid of me choppin’ up your girlfriend into tiny little pieces for Robert and Stan down the road?” Joel asks, a vicious and cutthroat way to take a shot as his brother, who he knew better than anyone.

He’s grown attached too quickly. Joel had suspected, assumed by the immediate likeness to you, but the moment of care shared in the bathroom moments prior had confirmed that if Tommy wanted you, he could have you. The smile you offered in return for his kind efforts was enough for Joel to know.

So, yeah— feeding unknowing people human meat was the number one rule. But, growing attached was the unspoken one that the Miller brothers had always followed, without fail.

 Until now.

“She’s smart—could use that, ya know?” Joel suggests, which is a surprise to Tommy.

His brother, who only ever thought about himself—he was suggesting you stay, that you could help.

“When are you gonna tell her?” Tommy asks, eyebrows raised in question as his hands settle on his hips, pajama pants hanging low. “Tomorrow?”

“I ain’t,” Joel responds without hesitation, “Like I said—she’s smart, she’ll figure it out.”

“Joel, if you don’t tell her I will—”

“No, you won’t,” Joel bites at his brother, stepping closer in an attempt to intimidate, “you tell her and she’ll run for the damn hills—let her figure it out and she’ll confront you. Then we’ll see how good you are at coverin’ our asses.”

It was Tommy’s job, the forefront of their business. He made the sales, talked to distributors in town. He was the face—a pretty face, more approachable. Joel was always sharper around the edges, harder to read.

Regardless, it didn’t matter. Joel had dug the hole for both of them and there was no way out.

–

You wake with an ache in your muscles and the instant need for a shower, covered in a layer of sweat that makes you want to strip your clothes instantly. You remember Tommy helping you to bed the night prior, the faint memories of you hunched over the toilet as you discarded your stomach contents and Joel watching over, observing, but the rest was a blur.

Not trying to waste anymore time, you quickly shower and dress, meeting the two boys in the kitchen as they readied themselves for the day, picking over breakfast. You settle for a couple of slices of bread, toasting them to a near crisp and snagging a ripe fruit from the basket on the counter, watching curiously as Joel makes a cup of coffee. It was the most normal course of action you’ve seen him take—he even took it with sugar, but obviously no cream.

Tommy already tore through breakfast and was sipping on his own cup of coffee, looking up at you occasionally over the newspaper he was reading, knowing that you were attempting to eat light after the night prior.

“Feelin’ better?” Tommy asks.

Your nod is noncommittal but Tommy doesn’t press.

Without prompting, Joel speaks, “It takes some gettin’ used to,” He explains, “it ain’t like the shit you get in the city.”

It would explain why he was unaffected, that maybe your stomach was just too weak.

“Same business today,” Tommy cuts in, ignoring the long stare you and Joel were holding, chewing slowly at the now soggy toast in your mouth, “we might have some stuff comin’ in tonight though and we’ll all have to offer a hand in unloading it, can you handle yourself?”

You approach him casually, stripping the peel off your banana as you take a bite.

“I can handle myself just fine,” you assure him, eyes pulling up briefly to regard Joel who was already departing for the front door without a word, “—you sure he isn’t trying to poison me?”

Tommy snorts softly, watching as you chewed thoughtfully on the banana and your gaze followed Joel through the windows, tracking his movements until he hit the barn. You feel Tommy’s hand graze your bicep, pulling your attention back toward him.

“He’s not,” If it was a lie, you couldn’t tell, “it all takes some adjusting, he isn’t lying.”

His hand still hadn’t moved and you looked down, his thumb rubbing over the exposed skin of your arm, “You know, I did say all you had to do was ask.” Tommy’s eyes crinkle with laughter, not expecting you to remember your words from last night, “Or, that’s inappropriate because…you’re technically my boss—”

“There isn’t rules out here, honey,” His voice is warm, inviting—but he’s still trying to keep himself at a distance, not too fast or too hard all at once. He’d set out the bait and wait for you to bite it, “we’re just here to help out and mind our business.”

“Okay,” Your response is soft, a gentle lilt to your voice that makes Tommy smile, “and...thank you for last night. I know it isn’t the most pleasant thing to wake up to in the middle of the night.”

His hand drops slowly, fingers trailing until they find your wrist and offering a gentle squeeze before his fingers depart you entirely, “I lived on this farm my entire life. There isn’t much that I haven’t seen or dealt with before. I think I can handle a little throw up.”

Tommy offers up the remainder of his coffee, still warm as you bring it to your lips and savor the rich taste—it was much more your style, full of cream and sugar to the point where it might rot your teeth out.

And the day proceeds without problem, moving through the motions of the tasks Tommy had assigned you yesterday, along with feeding some of the other animals littered around the farm. Horses, cows, goats—it was a wonder how they kept up with it by themselves. They were capable, but it seemed like too much for just two people. Regardless, it was impressive.

By evening, Tommy was pulling in with a truck full of secured and banded boxes on the trailer and Joel resurfaces from the barn by then, reeking something awful. You turn your nose away and scatter to Tommy’s side, earning a chuckle from the younger brother.

“You get used to it,” Tommy tells you, “like everything else.”

You eye Joel wearily, who seems less than amused. He offers a low grunt of acknowledgement as he stacks the boxes two high and heaves them up and into his arms, ignoring any attempt at small talk with either of you.

You couldn’t be bothered to care, knowing that Joel’s behavior was nothing if not peculiar.

“What’s in the boxes?” You ask when both of the men are reaching for boxes, sliding a smaller one into your own grip. They share a look, uncertainty. Who speaks first? Lie? Truth?

Joel huffs quietly—fine, half-truth.

“It’s stuff for cleanin’ up the barn. All the mess and shit. Interesting enough for you?”

Your nose crinkles at his tone, turning on your heels and heading toward the barn with the men in tow, “You’re snippy today,” you remark at Joel and Tommy hollers out a laugh from behind you, full-bellied and genuine, “when are you gonna give me a tour of it?”

“The what? The barn?” Joel asks for clarification before immediately shutting you down, “Never.”

Tommy shakes his head as he places the box down amongst the others, watching as you two bicker with shared looks and a soft giggle coming from you when you realize just how frustrated Joel had become, “I’m gonna head inside—try not to kill each other, alright?”

When Tommy is finally inside, you place the final box down. Joel was rearranging them silently, occupied with the task as you step backwards slowly, turning your head over your shoulder as you reach for the barn door. 

The curiosity was likely to kill you—just a peek, that was it.

The creak pulls Joel’s attention up and he’s on you within seconds, door slamming by your head as his hand pressing against the flat of your chest, fingers itching to squeeze around your throat. You gasp, a guttural noise forced out of you as he pressed you into the hard surface of wood, feeling the splinters dig into your skin.

“What did I fuckin’ say?” He asks. No response. It sets his eyes ablaze, “Answer me, goddammit.”

“Mind—” You gasp again, sharp as his hand presses into your throat now, forcing you to answer, “mind my business.”

“Doesn’t seem like you’re doing much of that right now,” Joel points out, “seems like you’re enjoying pressing that nose into places it doesn’t belong.”

It was a barn, for christ sake. What the hell was he hiding?

“Hey,” you croak, weakly, “don’t kill me, remember? Your brother won’t be too happy about it.”

“That’s only because he wants to fuck you, girl.” He assures you, “You ain’t the first and you won’t be the last.”

Your gaze softens, fingers clawing at his forearm. The disappointment in your eyes was obvious, but a sting to Joel’s ego. Tommy was always the more favored one of the pair, there wasn’t much he could do about it. But, it didn’t soften the blow.

His hold lessens slightly.

“Did you think you were the only little lady that’s come through here that my brother hasn’t tried to sink his teeth into?” Joel grins in amusement, tapping his fingers gently against the side of your cheek. It was patronizing and foolish, but he couldn’t resist teasing you for the dejected look on your face. “I like my privacy, alright? Don’t appreciate it when people invade it.”

You nod quietly, lips opening to offer a weak apology.

“Don’t say sorry,” he tells you, “not when you don’t mean it.”

Instantly, your mouth snaps shut. Joel smirks, satisfied that he was right about that.

You weren’t sorry. You didn’t care. But, you were scared. Eyes still wide as saucers and boring into his own, all blacked out with rage but quickly fading back into their usual warm brown.

“You hungry?” He quickly adverts the topic, pulling at the fabric of your shirt to adjust it back into place like nothing happened, “I’m fixin’ to cook up dinner.”

Two could play at that game.

“Is it gonna make me sick again?” 

Joel shrugs, “Might. Might not. You willin’ to take that risk?”

–

You luck out, for the most part. Aside from the dinner being nothing short of delicious, it makes you slightly queasy but it was easily qualmed by a glass of champagne, a nightcap to the work day as Joel has already wandered off to bed after cleaning up, leaving you and Tommy to perch on the stairs out front, a cigarette stuffed between his middle and pointer finger as he flicks off the ash, sipping from his own can of beer. 

“I forgot to ask about pay, you know,” You laugh softly, “just…slipped my mind.”

“Weekly,” Tommy answers simply, “every Friday. So, tomorrow?”

You do the mental work in your head, feeling like the days have blurred together. Realistically, it had only been a few but you hadn’t expected how overwhelming those days would be, finally feeling the exhaustion settling in your bones as you rested beside Tommy on the front steps of the Miller home.

“You feelin’ okay?” Tommy asks curiously, beer tipped to his lips as he takes a sip and awaits your response.

“A little queasy?” You’re unsure what to consider it, that unsettling feeling in your gut. You weren’t even sure if it was the food making you feel that way, almost certain that even a single look from Joel would give you the same feeling.

“You’re thinkin’ about it too much,” Tommy points out, “it’ll make it worse.”

You gulp down the rest of the cheap champagne and press the flat stand of glass into the stair besides your bare feet before leaning back on your elbows. Tommy mirrored you, crunching the aluminum can in his hand and tossed it aside.

“Okay, so—distract me,” you responded pointedly, a kind smile sent his way.

Tommy takes a deep puff before you’re plucking the nearly finished cigarette from his fingers and bringing it to your own lips, feeling the nicotine burn your throat. Tommy doesn’t seem fazed at all, used to it. 

Maybe Joel wasn’t lying about all those women. 

This was a normal routine for Tommy. You were another passerby willing to take the bait.

“You wanna go for a swim?”

Your brow raises curiously, amused.

Tommy looks on, awaiting your response. 

“Oh, you’re serious?” You ask, stuttering at the unexpected proposition, “Uh, yeah—sure. I mean…where?”

“It’s a walk, but there’s a lake behind those trees,” Tommy points off to the west, a long and dense line of trees surrounding the edge of the Miller farm, “feelin’ up to it?”

Your mouth waters unpleasantly as you continue to sit with your thoughts, yearning for distraction. You nod.

Tommy grins wide and takes your hand into his own.

-

He wasn’t lying. Under the moonlight, it was a huge lake with eerily undisturbed water. Pitch black and despite the hot and sticky heat, the water was cool to the touch as you dipped your feet into the shallow edge. Tommy is already wrestling with his belt, shucking his jeans down hastily and it forces you to move, stripping your own clothes off in time with him.

Down to your underwear you edge toward the deeper waters, hissing as more of your skin becomes engulfed in the ice cold plunge, feeling Tommy hover around you as he dipped under the water for a moment of time before emerging in front of you, pushing his damp hair from his face.

The cold water has you frozen, paralyzed.

“Come on,” he jests, “dunk yourself, it’ll help.”

You shake your head hesitantly, managing the inch by inch efforts as you move forward slowly.

“I’ll do it with you.” Tommy suggests, his fingers wrapping around your wrists as he wades the water—you feel yourself rising on your tiptoes to give yourself a few lingering moments before you have to force yourself under.

Tommy doesn’t force you, only waits for your reassuring nod after a long moment of indecisiveness before he’s doing a slow countdown and you’re both slipping under the water.

Moments later, you emerge with a gasp but it is full of elation. Tommy had pulled you out deeper, forcing you to swim until neither of you could touch and you clung to him instinctively, feeling the words that fall from his lips brush the back of your neck, “Distracted enough?”

It had, truthfully. You nod in response, feeling deft fingers at your hips as they turn you, your legs kicking in a melodic synchronicity. His touch lingers for a moment before he’s pushing away, using his arms to gain momentum and swim away, looking over his shoulder with a silent challenge.

Chase him. 

You giggle to yourself before following, moving gracefully through the calm waters. It continues like that for a while, minutes passing away effortlessly. The monotone buzz of insects hovering over the lake water and the insistent chirp of the crickets hiding in the grass kept your mind busy. It was peaceful out here, like the rest of the farm.

“So, you grew up here?” 

“All my life,” Tommy answers easily, “it isn’t exactly tourist worthy sights out here, but it has perks. Where are you from?”

“Here, there—” you answer noncommittally and shrug, earning a dismissive laugh from Tommy, “everywhere, honestly. I don’t stick around places for very long.”

“Which reminds me,” Tommy interjects, “your car should be fixed up soon—but, if you wanted to stick around—”

“I don’t think Joel would appreciate that,” you respond, feeling the heat of his gaze on you despite the farmhouse being miles away, “besides—I’m just another mouth to feed.”

“Most people who pass through here don’t last more than a day,” Tommy admits, “it may not seem like it, but he’s warmin’ up to you.”

You reminisce on the heat of his palm against your throat.

If looks could kill….

Joel would have maimed you at that moment.

“He’s a dick, but he ain’t immune to pretty girls,” Tommy teases and it makes your gut twist, “we don’t get many women through here anyways—I think he’s just forgotten how to talk to ‘em.”

You think back on Joel’s words again and decide to poke the bear. 

Swimming toward the shore you turn your head over your shoulder and speak, “You know, he said this is a bit of a routine of yours,” you begin, “seducing helpless women who come asking for help.”

Tommy rolls his eyes lightheartedly, chuckling at the absurdity of your words.

“Joel told you that?” Tommy inquires, swimming toward you. You turn on your hands, slowly scooting your way upshore with your palms until your ass is pressed against a bed of rocks buried in the dirty, shallow water lapping at your shins. “Honey, it’s been nearly a year since any type of lady came across our farm—and the last one? It was some old lady needin’ a jump on her car.” 

Tommy is edging closer now, on his hands and knees as he works his way forward.

“People see the farm and they drive in the other direction,” Tommy admits, “but, not you.”

You lean back slightly as he hovers over you. Your heart pounds in your chest, a salacious grin spreading across his face. 

“Helpless, remember?”

Tommy shakes his head slowly, “Ain’t nothin’ helpless about you.”

You bite first, silencing him with a heated press of your lips against his own, your hand curling around the back of his neck and your blunt fingernails pinching at his skin. His hiss turns into a warm chuckle. He spreads his palm out over the inside of your thigh and beckons your legs apart until he can fit between them comfortably before it curls around the side and pulls you back in, your knees barricading his hips. 

He coaxes you back, taking the balled up shirt on the shore and sandwiching it between the dirt and your head as he pulls back with a low sigh, eyes half-lidded and switching between your lips and your steady gaze, catching the way your tongue licks at your bottom lip.

“Need a little more distraction?” Tommy asks softly, the fingers on his free hand toying with the waistband of your panties, awaiting the nod of confirmation. It comes without thinking and he’s peeling the fabric off gently, watching as it stuck and rolled against your skin, sopping wet from the lake water as they fall to the ground with a soft squelch.

His fingers curl around the back of your neck, pushing forward in a way that beckons your chin up, meeting his lips in another hot and messy exchange of tongue and sweet, soft sighs breathed into each other’s mouths, feeling the tingly pulse at your core as his fingers drag through the center of your pussy. There was no mistaking the slick that had gathered there amongst your heated exchange, a low hum rumbling in his throat as he leaves you, sinking further and further down your body, eyes locked on your own.

“Open up for me,” he commands gently, his hands curling around your thighs as he settles on his stomach, “fuck—that, just like that. Goddamn girl, she’s glistenin’ for me.”

He chuckles at your meek response, looking away with a subtle smile that made you want to crawl away from him, but he held you firm.

“Nothin’ to be shy about,” he reassures you.

You exhale slowly, a calming breath that quickly melts away as he licks a broad line up your cunt with his tongue, through your folds and slurping up with sweet, sticky slick. You gasp, hands curling into fist helplessly, moaning out into the silent night. There was the softest wisp of a breeze that blew over your skin, prickling your skin. But, it’s beat out by the heat of Tommy’s touch as he pulls your hand to his scalp, silenting guiding you toward his long locks and hoping you get the idea. You curl your fingers into his hair and tug, pulling his motions up toward your clit and he sucks, sucks so hard you think you start to see white before he smooths the intensity out with the gentler licks of his tongue. 

It doesn’t take long before you’re coming with a loud moan, nearly uprooting yourself from the ground as he holds you still, the insistent wiggling of your hips from the overstimulation of his tongue enough to make you beg, plead even.

“Tommy, please—stop, s’too much. Too much.” You breath out in a hurry and eventually, a few greedy seconds later, he relents.

He rises with a sated smile sometimes later, watching as you desperately try to catch your breath. Whatever uneasiness you were feeling in your stomach earlier was long, but it didn’t snuff out the mental feeling of it. Fear, worry—like you were being watched.

-

The weeks beyond that pass with ease, falling into a steady routine.

Your car still sat untouched, but you couldn’t find it in you to be a pest about it—things were going well, a steady paycheck and roof over your head. You could bother them about it eventually, but not now. Not while things were good.

By October, the air is cooler and the work is easier to handle. Sometimes you help Tommy on the administrative end, filing away paperwork with information that doesn’t make much sense to you, as much as you try to piece it together. But, you do know they’re bringing in money. And lots of it. Absurd amount, actually. You don’t press Tommy on it either, worried that it would pop the pristine bubble around you both.

He was smitten, kind—sometimes he would sneak into your room at night instead of the latter for you, tiptoeing around Joel in the chances he might have something, anything to say. He’d lied to you about Tommy for his own benefit—but why? You tried not to dwell on it.

But, eventually you find yourself around Joel more often than not. Or, attending to him. 

He still barricades himself in the barn most days, only popping his head out as he calls for things—but there’s one particular evening where things, usually calm, fly off the rails. 

Mentally, at least.

And it isn’t the most auspicious way to let you in on their secret, but Joel can’t seem to rid himself of you. You’re always there, lingering, and even if you weren’t certain of things, suspicion had been raised long ago.

You weren’t even sure what you were trying to confirm, or if Joel’s unsettling nature was just a ploy to scare you into behaving, but you could feel it. Something was up.

He’s tasked you with feeding the pigs a number of times—it’s always gross and messy and not a favorable task by any means, fortunately you’re used to it. But, a large, stray rock buried in the dirt robs you of normality and the bin of bloodied scraps spills out as you land on your hands and knees, the skin scraping off your shins against the rough ground and a loud hiss slips beyond clenched teeth as you scramble to get back on your feet, looking around in desperation and hoping that neither of the brothers had witnessed your misstep.

Your nose scrunches up in disgust as you hold back a gag, scooping the discarded scraps back into the bin, the meat like mush beneath your fingertips and you reach for a bigger chunk, immediately startled by the more solid texture of it. 

Joel usually grinded up the meat, making it easier for the pigs to consume. But this, it was a whole and solid chunk. You push the bin away gently and swipe away the chunks of congealed blood and fat and rub your thumb over the texture of it. Thick, solid. The color was dull and pale but there was no mistaking it. It was skin, but more notably amongst that was the tattoo. It clearly wasn’t the full piece, a couple letters surrounded by an intricate design where it was precisely sliced.

You’ve heard of people using pig skin for tattooing, wondering if Joel was taking up a side hobby amongst the already interesting career path he had taken, but something doesn’t sit well. 

Five pigs, that was how many you’d seen since you arrived. You push the bin weakly toward the pin on your hands and knees until you can find the strength to dump it into the trough, allowing the metal to clatter to the ground carelessly as the pigs flood to their food. One, two, three…and two stragglers trotting over leisurely. Five pigs, not a single one missing.

The creak from the barn has you peering quickly over your shoulder, eyes landing on Joel as he leaned around the door, a perturbed look on his face. You thought it was worry for a split second and as he came closer—curious and cautious over the loud noises he had heard when his saw cut dead—it was. 

He spots the blood on the ground first, a mess you had made. His eyes follow the trail of blood to the pin before they travel over you, covered in the rest of what didn’t make it inside the trough and then your legs—you don’t feel the sting until he kneels, his fingers running over your knees, tiny bits of dirt and gravel buried in the wound as his fingers continue down your shin. His eyes scan the expanse of the property before they’re locked back on you.

“Get inside,” It was a cold demand, detached and emotionless but you can’t move, frozen with a fear that didn’t hit you until Joel’s fingers touched your skin, “go on—you can walk, can’t you?”

Vehemently, you swallow down the lump in your throat. Human skin, not pig skin. You weren’t feeding the pigs scraps of other animals—it was humans. Weeks of clueless wandering, the itching feeling of uneasiness was confirmed for you in seconds. The bile in your stomach was threatening to escape as you walked on wobbly legs to the house, falling down into a chair tucked under the dining table, flexing shaky fingers into fists over and over, slowly in an effort to calm yourself alongside your practiced breaths.

Tommy wasn’t here. He would’ve come running otherwise—you vaguely remember the truck missing as you made your way inside, wondering how distracted you had to be to not realize he left. You hear Joel clearing his throat as he approaches the door, swinging it open harshly as it nearly pops off its hinges.

You make the effort to move, but Joel is quick to snap at you.

“Stay put,” He commands, eyes washing over your stoic expression.

You must’ve been a sight, wide-eyed and disturbed, following Joel’s every move. You were covered in a mix of your own blood and someone else’s—maybe not even one, it could be multiple. Joel seems to sense your stomach turning and lunges toward the trash bin in the kitchen and quickly shoves it in front of you, barely catching the vomit that spills from your throat as you retch your breakfast up forcefully.

Joel moves quietly amongst your sickened state, grabbing a few supplies that he slides onto the table beside you and waits, kneeled down at near eye level as you peer up, wiping the string of spit from your mouth and he looks enthralled, wondering what had caused such a chaotic string of events to unfold.

“You’re upset,” He notes, ripping open a package of cotton balls and pouring a handful onto the table, popping open the cap of isopropyl alcohol, dosing the cotton before he was pressing it into your leg without warning, earning a sharp whine of pain from you.

Was he expecting a different reaction?

“Fuck!” You shout, shoving the trash can aside as your fingers dig tightly into Joel’s shoulder, earning a fiery look from the man—but if he wasn’t willing to give you sympathy, you weren’t going to return the favor, “—you are too, are we pointing out the obvious?”

His fingers drag along the back of your calf, position your heel against his hips as allows no relief, haphazardly pouring a small amount of alcohol against the wound and you grip the wood of the chair so hard you swear you hear it crack.

“Jesus, ease up,” you snap at him, “I fell, I fucked up. I’m sorry, is that what you wanted to hear?”

“What’re you apologizin’ for?”

There’s a distinct rip of tape as you watch Joel smooth the gauze over your shin, securing the bandage over the wound before he works carefully at your knee, cleaning the cut before leaving it alone and moving to the opposite leg.

“Are you not mad at me?”

Joel chuckles dismissively, eyes flicking up toward you briefly, “Not everything is about you, girl.”

Fed up and simmering with your pain, you don’t think and the words slip from your lips before you can stop them, “Is it about Tommy then?”

Joel’s hands still, stopping the slow dragging lotion down your wound as he tilts his head up at you curiously, “You think I’m jealous of that little thing you got going on with my brother?” Joel shakes his head in amusement, his teeth peeking out beyond his grin, “I don’t get jealous. If I want somethin’, I’ll take it.”

The words pierce your chest, knowing there was deeper meaning beyond those words but you look away carelessly, feeling his less than gentle press into your skin as he continues. 

“Business is slow, I don’t like it.” Joel admits, hearing the hesitancy in his voice as he admits it, but it seems harmless. In his mind, you have no clue of the nefarious nature behind their work.

Except, you do. Or at least you think you do. 

“Is there any way to fix that?”

Joel shrugs, “Tommy’s workin’ the people around town, doing all the talking. We’ll see if it works.”

You have two choices.

Admit what you found or bide your time, poke around and see what you can find—you know that won’t go over well with Joel, or Tommy, even. So, you call his bluff.

Because something—be it Joel or that sinking feeling in your chest, tells you that whichever path you take would lead down the same road. You weren’t leaving here without a fight.

“Does the body reject it the first few times?”

You ignore the way your voice shakes, the recognition sitting with you, knowing that they had fed you the meat without your consent. Tommy, too. He’d sat there at the dinner table and tore into the meals all the same, less intrigued as his counterpart, but he was still an accomplice. 

Joel’s expression changes, like switch flips. Bandaging up the opposite leg he rises, answering with a clipped, “Yeah.”

Silence amongst the clattering of items as Joel piled them into his arms and stored them away, another question slips past your lips.

“Was it on purpose?”

Joel’s brow raises, but he doesn’t answer. 

“The tattoo,” You explain, “did you want me to find it? Or did you fuck up?”

At those words, he lunges. His hands grip the table behind you, pinning you against the chair as you lean back and look up, feeling the deep rumble in his chest.

“I don’t fuck up,” Joel retorts and your eyes stray from his hardened gaze, “No—look at me. Now.”

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip harshly, but you listen.

“You knew,” Joel challenges, “long before that, I’m sure. You could’ve ran if you wanted, granted you’ve got that busted car out front, but you could’ve ran. Hell, you could have while you were outside just now—but you listened to me.”

You know what angle he’s pushing, backing you into a corner and you feel it, that tingling feeling of guilt in your gut. He was right, you could have.

“What are you hidin’ in there?” He presses, eyes narrowing as his pointer finger taps gently at the center of your forehead, “I’m telling you we’re murderers, cannibals, and you haven’t screamed or shed a tear. You aren’t scared of me, are you?”

You shake your head and Joel speaks again, “Scared of dying though, right? What’s stoppin’ me from killing you? Tommy ain’t here.”

The finger on your forehead follows down the center of your face until Joel can reach your chin, tilting it upwards.

“You like it here, don’t you?”

There was no nod, but the subtle twitch in your cheek as you bite down hard on the inside of it was enough of an answer for Joel. Don’t give him those words, don’t give him the satisfaction.

“You killed before?”

Another question that goes unanswered, but your actions give you away.

You twist away, desperate to flee his touch. Joel isn’t done with you yet, one hand pressed against his knee as he leans down to your level and the other grabbing for your face, forcing you to look at him.

Admittedly, they weren’t all bad men. Some of them had tried to attack you on the road and ended up at the wrong end of a blade, but others—the few with bad timing and things you needed…it was collateral, in your eyes. Seven of them that you can remember, all unsuspecting men with an eye for the meek and defenseless. 

You snarl slightly, fighting against his hold but Joel is stronger, much stronger. 

“Knew you’d be useful,” Joel admits, “s’why I let you stick around. You got that…look about you.”

Your brow furrows in a mix of disgust and confusion and you catch the way Joel spaces out for a moment, admiring your expression and you twist, shoving him hard with both hands in an attempt to send him stumbling back. It only forces him off-balance and your attempt to flee is stopped by his large, bear-like grip on your forearm as he throws you against the wall, knocking the air from your lungs.

“Nuh uh,” Joel mocks, “can’t letcha go that easy, sugar.”

Joel's grip on your wrist is deadlocked, crossing your arms over your chest tight, pressing himself against you. Under this light, this closeness, you notice the small scars, years of healing left it fading into the skin and Joel notices you admiring for a brief moment—incredibly brief as your teeth clamp down around the side of his hand. Hard. It breaks through the skin and forces blood to spill from his hand and pool into your mouth before he pulls the wounded hand back and balls it into a fist, freezing as you spit his blood back into his face, an instant chuckle ripping from his throat.

“There you are, ya little killer,” He goaded, his eyes ticking up at the sound of a car door slamming outside and a wide grin spreading across his face, “well, isn’t that some fine timing.”

The door swings open a second later and Joel has already pushed away from you, nursing his flesh wound with a dry, clean kitchen towel, leaving Tommy to examine you both with a less than auspicious gaze, blood ringing your mouth and a smug expression on his brother's face.

You approach Tommy hesitantly, reaching for the door with a worried gaze but his hand comes up too, slamming against the flimsy frame and preventing you from roaming further.

“Can’t let you out, honey,” he apologizes, his voice more sincere than you’ve ever heard it to be before his head turns up toward his brother, waving around a white envelope addressed out to the both of them, “we gotta figure somethin’ out.”

He tosses the letter on the dining table and slides his hand down your forearm, a softer grip than his counterpart but it didn’t leave room for argument, jostling you around until he could get the front door locked, dead-bolted, and secured.

“This is home now, baby.” Tommy soothes.

Because really, where else did you have to go?

[spideyjimin]

wrong time | jjk

⤷ part of the timing series 

⏤ pairing: jungkook x female reader

⏤ genre: parent au, exes to lovers, ceo au, angst, fluff, and smut

⏤ rating: 18+

⏤ warnings: dilf!jungkook, tattooed!jungkook, swearing, mention of breakup, mention of jk being a fuckboy, broken hearts, nervousness, communication issues, mention of going through a dark period, oc wasn’t really nice, mention of sickness, mention of the hard side of parenthood, jk and oc are workalcoholics, the closure conversation, mention of sex, mention of death, mention of grief, mention of cheating,  sexual tension, dom!jungkook, big cock!jungkook, nipple play, pet names, penetrative sex, protected sex, rough sex, and creampie

⏤ words: 13,986

⏤ summary: meeting ten years later the girl he deeply fell in love with is something Jungkook never thought would happen. But here you are, standing before his eyes with a bright smile on your face as you walk through the massive lobby of his company. At that exact moment, he realizes that the two of you fell in love at the wrong time but is now the right time?  

⏤ author’s note: wrong time is finally all yours! i actually can’t believe it’s finally posted after almost a year of work! but it also makes me incredibly happy to release it. the past year has been a crazy year and this fic is a reflection of all that. most of the things mentioned in the fic are things that i experienced so this makes wrong time even more special to my heart 💞 i really want to thank my nikki @xpeachesncream​ for her support, i know i couldn’t have done it without her! 💞 enjoy the fic & let me know what you thought of it!💞 

MASTERLIST

A bright smile spreads across Jungkook’s face as he stares down at his five years old daughter, Arya. In the past ten years, he has made quite a lot of mistakes but Arya will forever remain his best mistake.

“Have a wonderful day, my little queenie,” he says while kneeling down at his daughter’s level.

His smile grows wider when his eyes linger a little longer on the small human being that he adores with his entire soul. She looks extremely tiny in her navy blue dress and with her massive backpack. Arya doesn’t get to choose what she wears when she goes to school, she has her uniform. So outside school, her father lets her pick whatever she wants to dress.

“You too, dadda,” she says before throwing her minuscule body into Jungkook’s arms.

Having his daughter in his arms is what truly brings warmth and happiness to his broken soul. For this, he’d sell his soul to the devil, and for her, he’d fight every battle. Well, honestly speaking, he has been battling his own demons since the moment he found out he’d become a father. He never wanted her daughter to have an absent or mentally sick father. He wanted to be present for her from the beginning.

“Tonight mommy will pick you up, and you’ll stay with her for the week, okay?”

Jungkook is the CEO of Jeon Industries, the company he built from ashes seven years ago. Due to his extremely busy schedule, he only gets to spend the weekends with his daughter. Every monday morning, he drops her at school before passing by her mother’s house to drop her things off, and then, he goes to work.

“Yes, dadda, I know,” she says with a nod.

The only thing he deeply regrets is offering this family dynamic to his daughter. She always lives in between two houses, and only spends the weekdays with her mother and the weekends with her father. He wished to give her the same family he grew up in, but despite that, he knows that his little baby is very happy which is the most important for him.

“If anything happens, you ask mommy to call me, okay princess?”

The little girl nods once more before newly squeezing her father in her arms.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be with mama,” she simply replies.  

Eunji, Arya’s mother has become a great friend of Jungkook, and he knows that she’ll take good care of his tiny princess. But he’s always scared something might happen to her. A life without her is something he doesn’t want to imagine. A little over six years ago, he wouldn’t even be able to imagine himself becoming a father but today, it is the other way around. This little girl has brought so much light into his life. A light he never thought he’d find.

“Bye, dadda,” she says before pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

A small smile appears on his face while he turns around and stands up to look at his little girl walking to the school’s entrance. His eyes don’t leave her tiny figure until she reaches her school and disappears from his field of vision. At that moment, he feels a little twinge in his heart. He’ll deeply miss Arya for the next few days, but that’s the way it is.

The only way to spend every single day with her is to get into a relationship with her mother, but ever since he met her, he has never loved her. There’s only one woman he ever loved. It’s the one that got away. You. Even after those past ten years, he’s still not over you. And to be honest, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over you. The void you left inside his heart is tremendous and nobody, except you, will ever be able to fill it.  

After a couple of minutes of standing in front of his daughter’s school, he walks to his car with his hands in his suit pants’ pockets. With his head down, he tries to wipe away the fact that he already misses his daughter and that he still misses you after all this time. Some years ago, he believed that by now he would have had his life together but he’s still as lost as he was after the breakup.

Things are for sure different because he has Arya and he’s used to living with this sadness. He has also become the CEO of one of the biggest companies in the country. He has also stopped being a fuckboy, he tries to find someone that’ll want to spend the rest of their life with him but it’s not easy when he compares all the girls to his old lover. None of them actually stand a chance.

His phone rings, causing him to remove it from his pocket. The name of his assistant is appearing on the screen, and without thinking, he picks up the call. It’s always important when Davy calls him.

“Hey Davy,” he says as he answers the call.

“Hello, Mr. Jeon,” the man on the other side of the call says, “Mr. Kim is here and wants to speak with you urgently.”

A deep sight leaves his lips. Kim Taehyung is his best scientist. Without this man, Jeon Industries wouldn’t have grown as much as it has over the past three years. So if he wants to speak with him urgently, it must be extremely important.

“I’m on my way,” he simply answers.

Today, he was planning on taking the morning off to rest a bit. The past few months have been extremely crazy with the expansion of Jeon Industries but when you’re a CEO, you actually never get to rest. There’s always something.

The call directly ends and Jungkook doesn’t waste one more minute before rushing to his car to get to his company as soon as possible. A million ideas run through his mind as he drives to his office. There are a lot of possible urgent matters to discuss.

However, he doesn’t want to start imagining the worst-case scenario so he turns the music up. Music is his getaway, the way he found to escape how empty he feels every day, the way he found to cheer himself up to find the courage to hide from everyone how broken he truly is. Usually, being with Arya also helps him to feel better.

Work is also his escapism but lately, he’s been trying to live more and work less. He’s been also considering trying to find a new arrangement with Eunji in order to spend a day with Arya during the week. Or to even completely change the arrangement. Spending more time with his little girl is his top priority, he just needs to figure out things first. Plus, changing the arrangement would completely turn Arya’s life upside down, and he doesn’t want to do that before being sure that his busy schedule can be rearranged.

In less than twenty minutes, Jungkook reaches the massive building sheltering Jeon Industries. He parks his car in the company’s underground parking before quickly jumping out of the car and walking to the elevator. This first elevator only goes to the first floor which is the main entrance of his company. Then, he’ll have to walk a bit to reach the other elevator that will bring him to his office.

Once he reaches the first floor, he crosses it, his eyes scanning the people in the room. As usual, it is crowded with workers. While looking at every face, he recognizes a familiar one. A face he wished he had forgotten. A face that has been haunting him night and day for the past ten years. A face that made his heart beat faster. Well, in fact, his heart is actually going completely crazy right now.

Jungkook halts to take a proper look at that face he never thought he would ever see again. That face is yours, the lover he lost years ago. He rubs his eyes, wanting to make sure that he’s not dreaming. Tiredness can make him imagine things, especially when it comes to you. But after rubbing his eyes, you’re still there, talking to a person next to you and smiling.

Meeting ten years later the girl he deeply fell in love with is something Jungkook never thought would happen. But here you are, standing before his eyes with a bright smile on your face as you walk through the massive lobby of his company.

His heart breaks a little because it is so unfortunate that he gets to see you here and now. Since he has to rush to his office to discuss whatever he has to with Taehyung, he won’t have the time to at least say hi to you. Something he would like to do. His eyes follow you as you disappear into the lobby with that person.

He wishes he was the reason behind your smile.

The past month has been an incredible one for you.  

You joined Jeon Industries as a scientist which is more than an honor for you. This company is one of the biggest at the moment, and for sure, it’s a privilege to be working amongst the most talented scientists in the country. Being there for the past month has been rewarding.

But outside that, you’ve been feeling extremely proud of Jungkook. He has built this entire empire from ashes and he did it so well. The company is well known in South Korea and very slowly, it is getting known worldwide. People are fighting to get a job here, you’ve seen it when you were applying for your current job. This is bigger than what he ever dreamed of or at least, bigger than what he told you about.

You still remember how he used to talk about his project of creating his little company. He’d spent hours imagining how it would be to start a business, how it would be to find the first employee, how it’d be to do experiences, and also, how it would simply feel to run a firm. His head was full of dreams that he would constantly share with you. You assume that he must feel like he has achieved everything in life.

A little smile appears on your face as you remember the old times. It isn’t always all rainbows and sunshine but there wasn’t any doubt that you both loved each other. Falling in love with him was absolutely wonderful. You’d fall in love all over again just to experience that strong feeling again.

For sure, since Jungkook, you got other boyfriends and you even got engaged. However, falling for them was never as close as falling for Jungkook. It was even far from that but it doesn’t change that it was still beautiful. Love is an incredible life experience, something you’d fight for every single day of your life. You even got a tattoo of the word “love” in japanese on your shoulder.

Right now, you’re walking to a meeting room with your team. Kim Taehyung, the director of your department, wants to have a little meeting. Probably to discuss the new project or probably to discuss the last project’s results.

Soon enough, everyone enters the meeting room. To your surprise, Taehyung is already there, patiently waiting for the team to arrive. But what really surprises you is the person sitting next to Taehyung. Jeon Jungkook. They are both talking, a little smile on the big boss’ face.

Instantly, your heart starts hammering in your chest, ready to burst at any moment. Although you hoped never to meet him here, you knew it was in vain. This is his fucking company. This is all his, including you. There was no way you’d never see him.

As you get closer to both men, you take in the man you once loved with all your soul. To say that he hasn’t changed would be a complete lie. He still looks the same but he’s a very different man. Slowly, his face turns to meet you. Unlike you, he doesn’t seem surprised to see you entering the meeting room.

When your eyes meet, you feel like it becomes obvious to everyone that your heart is about to explode while Jungkook’s expression becomes more serious. It is almost as if he’s becoming cold but you can’t really tell because in ten years a person can change a lot. So maybe he’s simply normal right now.

As you look at him, it feels like time has completely stopped. Your heart is beating way too strongly in your chest, your hands are getting sweaty, and you purse your lips. Right now, as you’re standing in front of Jungkook, you’re starting to regret working here. For sure, it’s very prestigious but the CEO is your damn ex. Having to face him will for sure be extremely hard.

“Hey everyone,” Taehyung says with a little smile appearing on his face.

With those words, your eyes move from Jungkook to Taehyung. Your thoughts are focused again on work, not the man who owns this company.

“Thanks, everyone for coming,” he pursues.  

The director keeps on talking, explaining the last project you all worked on and its results. Your heart swells with pride when he explains the results and shows the good work of your team. As you deeply listen to your superior, you completely forget that Jungkook is even here. Work has always been your safe place. For sure, it shouldn’t be but it is what has helped you to get yourself together and to overcome your devastating breakup. A breakup that you caused.

Truth be told, you never wanted to end things with Jungkook but you needed it. This relationship brought so much crap to the surface, and you were in a very dark place. To be honest, you didn’t want to deal with your ex because everything was so overwhelming so you pushed him away. You never wanted to hurt him but in the end, that’s exactly what you did. Before even ending things, you were already pushing him away, you were always finding an excuse to not spend time with him. Back then, you discovered that you were good at finding excuses.

But you did wrong.

For sure, you could have talked with him. You could have communicated what was going on with him and even today, you know that he would have helped you. He would have remained by your side until you felt better. But you didn’t want that because you knew he deserved better. Well, that’s what you have been repeating yourself for the past years. But was it really the truth? Was he really better off without you?

Honestly, that’s something you’ll never know because you chose to walk away. You chose to be the one that got away. You didn’t choose to stay and fight your inner demons with him by your side. You chose to do it on your own, and eventually, you tried to replace the void he created in your heart with other guys. Only, it never worked because you were damaged, deeply damaged.

It only got better when you decided to work on yourself and make things work for yourself. For the past six years, you’ve been doing tremendous work on yourself. It’s never easy but you’ve found peace within yourself. Even if you’d like to credit yourself for that bravery, it was actually your ex-fiancé who opened your eyes.

Kangdae entered your life when everything was only chaos. You never thought it would work between you two but through that chaos, he was the light at the end of the tunnel. He showed you how broken you were and that you could get some help, that there wouldn’t be any shame to do so. He held your hand when you were completely shattered. Not once did he give up on you. Not once did he accept that you would break up with him.

Eventually, with time, you started healing with Kang by your side. After three years of relationship, he proposed to you but it was obvious that you had some more healing to do. Neither of you wanted to rush the marriage. So you took your time.

However, you never got married to him.

As you started healing fully, things slowly fell apart. The love between you and Kang didn’t die but it changed into something different. It wasn’t romantic love anymore, it was more a friendship love. So you both agreed to cancel the wedding but Kang stayed in your life. He’s your friend now.

He’s also the reason why you’re sitting in this meeting room at Jeon Industries. Even though you really wanted to apply, you were very insecure because you knew the chances to meet Jungkook were high. Kang encouraged you to still take the risk since it will be such an asset for you and your career to work at your ex’s company.

For a brief moment, your eyes move from Taehyung to Jungkook. It feels unreal to be standing in front of him so many years later. Never have you thought you’d see him again because of the way you broke his heart. Nobody deserves to be hurt that way. Your heart aches as your eyes quickly gaze at your ex, the overwhelming pain causes you to look away.

The entire meeting goes well, both Taehyung and Jungkook are extremely proud of your team’s achievement. You’re also extremely proud of your hard work, it has definitely paid off. Nothing makes you happier than your superior and the big boss complimenting your effort.

Once the meeting is over, everybody stands up and gets ready to leave the room.

“Miss y/l/n, would you please stay?” The deep voice of Jungkook resonates in the small room.

You turn around to look at the man who just spoke. Your hands start shaking, your heart suddenly beats fast. You simply nod while your eyes scan the room, watching all your coworkers leave the room. Taehyung closes the door after looking at the two of you. He wonders what the CEO would want to discuss with you. To his knowledge, Jungkook wasn’t aware of your existence until an hour ago.

For a solid minute, none of you says a thing. You avoid looking at him while he takes the time to admire the woman you have become. There’s absolutely no doubt that you have changed. You’re a lot more frail than you were back then, and to be honest, Jungkook prefers the way you looked before. But he’s aware that things have changed and a lot of time passed.

“Mr. Jeon…” you start saying but he cuts you off.

“Jungkook, please,” he says.

There’s no way he’s letting you call him Mr. Jeon.

“Jungkook,” you correct yourself, “how can I help you?”

His eyes move to the massive screen hanging on the wall to his right. Now, yours are looking at him. Jungkook has changed considerably. The black tight suit he’s wearing is very different from the blue jeans and sweater he used to wear. Under that black suit jacket, he’s wearing a grey shirt. By the looks of it, he also seems to be a lot more muscular. His strong arm lifts up to run his fingers through his hair.

That is a clear sign that he’s nervous, an old habit he didn’t lose. A deep sigh leaves his lips, and you can’t help but smile. Even though he looks different, some of his old habits haven’t changed.

“Since we weren’t alone during this meeting, I just wanted to take the time to say ‘hi’ to you in person,” he nervously says.

Your heart gets warmer as you hear his words. This comes as a total surprise to you. You were expecting Jungkook to ignore you and even to treat you like shit but right now, he’s being extremely nice.

“Thanks Jungkook,” you say, “hi to you as well,” a little smile appears on your face.

Although Jungkook was kind of a fuckboy when you met him long ago, he had the biggest heart you’d ever met. The simple fact that he wanted to say hi to you shows that his heart is still as big or maybe even bigger.

“It’s weird to have you as one of my employees but I promise that I’ll try not to make things awkward,” he adds.

“I’ll try as well,” you reply.

The man in front of you finally looks at you. A smile appears on his face.

“Thanks,” he says.

You simply nod, a weird smile displaying on your face. Even though you don’t feel awkward, it still feels weird to be in this meeting room alone with your ex. The one whose heart you broke.

“I have to go,” he adds, “it was a pleasure to see you.”

The CEO of the company leaves the meeting room in silence. You take a moment to get yourself together before doing the same. Today was definitely an emotionally intense day but hopefully, things will only get easier from now on.

But you couldn’t be more wrong.

“So you’ve seen Jk?” your best friend Lux says.

Lux has been your best friend since you were 18. She actually appeared in your life at the same time as Jungkook, she was in the front row when you were flirting and when you started dating a couple of months later. She’s been a very important person in your life, she’s been there through the very dark periods. Without her support, you’re not sure you would have made it.

“It’s Jungkook,” you correct her.

Jk is too personal, there’s no way that you’ll call him that way. Plus, he’s your boss now so it’s preferable to keep things professional.

“And yes, I’ve seen him and I even spoke with him,” you add.

She definitely looks surprised because she never thought you’d speak again. Lux remained in contact with Jungkook following the breakup, they were friends as well and she knows how broken he has been since then. She thought that he wouldn’t speak to you at all after what happened.

“We had a meeting about the project I worked on,” you simply say.

For a moment, you consider not telling her that he said ‘hi’ but it’s not a good idea to lie or keep secrets to your best friend. Eventually, she’ll find out about it so it’s preferable to tell her everything right now.

“And afterward, he asked me to stay to simply say ‘hi’,” you continue.

She actually cannot believe what she’s hearing.

“Jk said hi to you?” she surprisingly asks.

“Yeah, I can’t believe it as well but that’s exactly what happened,” you reply.

The two of you keep talking about that for a little while but the conversation quickly changes to something different. Honestly, you don’t really want to talk about the past and the biggest mistake you probably did. Lux got it without you having to say it, and you’re thankful she understands it. Also talking again about Jungkook would be torture for her as well. After the breakup, she was the one being there for you, she was the one picking up every single shattered piece of your heart and trying to mend it with her love.

You had the toughest conversations with her, she was the one putting you in front of what you did and she never spared you. As she was still in contact with Jungkook she knew how he was but she never said anything to you. There was no point in telling you how devastated he was. She just made sure you understood how big of a mess you made.

But even if you broke Jungkook’s heart, you knew ⏤ and still know ⏤ that it was the best decision to end things. You did what you thought was the best for you back then. People can call you selfish but in the end, it was better that way. God only knows what you could have done if you stayed. Probably you would have broken Jungkook’s heart even more by staying.

However, karma is a bitch. Eventually, Jungkook later broke your heart as well. The day that it happened was the day when Lux told you that he was going to become a father. That day, you wanted to reach him and try to save things. Imagining him becoming the father of that child that wasn’t yours was devastating. It brought you back to all the moments when you discussed having children, what would be the name of your first girl or first boy, what they would possibly look like physically, or even their personalities.  

Then, the second heartbreak was the day his daughter was born. Her name was Arya, the name you had chosen together for your daughter. That moment, you deeply regretted every single decision you took from the moment Jungkook came into your life.

Although Lux saw how broken you were when you found out about Arya, she found it absolutely beautiful that he chose that name for his baby girl. She was the living proof that he was still in love with you, that you were still on his mind. She believed that he was completely crazy to give that little girl the name he chose with his ex. Luckily, he wasn’t dating the mother otherwise she would have all the reasons to leave him.

Lux slips a sheet of paper on the table. While taking it, you frown with confusion. It seems a bit sneaky but for sure, if she’s doing it, it’s something important. You read what’s written on the paper. There’s an address but you don’t know where it is or what could be there.

“What is this?” you question her.

“It’s Jk’s address,” she responds.  

Although she hasn’t remained super friends with your ex, she has been at his place, and he has been part of her life. You’re aware of it, she never hid anything from you because there’s no point. She’s been in between even though she stayed more your friend than his. She’s deeply sorry about how things ended because things were great when you were together.

“He already took the first step and talked to you,” she starts explaining. “Now, it’s your turn to gather your courage and have the conversation you were supposed to have years ago.”

Well, after your breakup, you avoided at all costs talking to him when he was begging to have a conversation. The famous closure conversation. But you denied him that right for the past ten years which wasn’t cool of you. He didn’t deserve that, you were a real bitch but you were hurt. Hurt people hurt others. You were convinced things would be a hundred times better if you wouldn’t speak and see each other.

“Tell him everything, explain yourself so both of you can move on and have a great professional relationship,” she adds.

Slowly your hands start shaking as you read the address in the paper you’re holding. The thought of having a real and deep conversation with him scares you but Lux is right. More than anything else, Jungkook deserves it. He deserves to know the full truth, to know what led you to hurt him the way you did.

Of course, you contemplated so many times talking to him but you never found the courage within yourself to do it. But maybe now is the time.

“I’ll think about it,” you tell her.

For sure, you need some time to think about everything. You can’t knock at his door tomorrow and start venting about the reasons you broke up ten years ago. It’s not fair for him nor to yourself. You need to think and consider how to formulate every thought that has been on your mind for the past years.

You fold the paper to put it in your bag. There’s no doubt that for the next couple of days and probably even weeks, you’ll keep staring at it thinking about the right thing to do.

“How’s your little man doing?” you ask your best friend to completely change the topic of conversation.

Lux became the mother of John four months ago. She’s half-korean and half-english, and a couple of years ago, while on holiday in England, she met Henry. They started a long-distance relationship, and she considered moving to England because she was madly in love with him, but in the end, he decided to move to South Korea. They moved in together, and shortly after, she got pregnant. They decided to keep the baby and to make you the godmother. Little John has been a blessing in your life.

“I think he’s getting sick, he’s a little bit warmer today but Henry is staying with him right now so if anything happens, he’ll call me,” she says.

“Why didn’t you say that earlier?” you ask with surprise. “Go home, right now, Lux, or I kick you in the ass!” you almost yell.

How can that woman be here talking with you when she believes her little boy is sick.

“It’s okay,” she says, “Henry has everything under control, he’s also his father, and I could use some time out of home with you.”  

You frown, wondering if your best friend is doing well. Becoming a parent is something huge, but Lux has been handling things great so far, even though she never hid that it’s hard.

“I’m okay,” she adds when she notices your expression, “but I just want to breathe a bit.”

You nod, partially understanding what she means. You don’t have a kid so you can’t exactly understand what she’s feeling however you can imagine how it feels. You’ve seen how she’s been doing since your little godson arrived. She’s been extremely tired although very happy. It’s obviously very hard for her and most of the time, you don’t know how to help her.

Of course, you sometimes take care of John so she can rest a bit more or spend some time with Henry. Sometimes, you surprisingly appear at her place to help her out with whatever she needs. You can’t do much but you try to be there. That’s pretty much all you can do.

“If you need me to help you out with John…”

Her phone starts ringing, cutting you off. That’s Henry. But he doesn’t come with great news. He had taken John to the hospital because his condition was getting worse.

Lux immediately stands up, waves you goodbye, and rushes to her car to join her men. Since you were on a terrace, you paid for both your orders before leaving the place.

It was good to talk to her today, especially after seeing Jungkook at work some days ago. It has been on your mind since you’ve seen him. It was weird to see him and even have a little chat with him. But now, you’re even more sure that it wouldn’t be a one-time thing. You’ll for sure speak with him once more which is probably going to cause more sleepless nights because all you can think about is Jungkook. Hopefully, once you’ll talk, you’ll be able to sleep better and move on from all this.  

Once again, you couldn’t be more wrong.

Jungkook has spent the last month not sleeping properly. His ex ⏤ you ⏤ has been haunting him even more than usual so he’s been a total mess. His brain is on fire, he can’t even think correctly. Arya has been his escape because work couldn’t be anymore. He’s been working more from home, avoiding coming to the office as much as possible. Exceptionally, Eunji has agreed to let her daughter spend more time with Jungkook.

Today is no exception, he worked from home. He just arrived home with Arya, he picked her up. Eunji enjoyed the fact that Jungkook has been more with her daughter to take some holidays. So now and for the next week, Arya will spend all her time with her daddy. She couldn’t be happier.

Arya and her father are currently eating pancakes that they prepared together. All this time with his daughter has been filling his heart. In a way, seeing you again has brought something so special to him. A lot of time with his baby. However, he’s totally aware that one day, he’ll have to physically go back to work. But only when he’ll sleep a bit more.

His eyes never cease to watch his little girl. He’s very lucky to have her, she brings so much happiness into his life. For sure, he would trade anything for moments like these.

“Daddy,” Arya starts saying. “My friends have a mommy and a daddy in the same house. Why you and mommy are not in the same house?”

He has a twinge in his heart. This is such a heartbreaking question but he knew that one day, this question would come. Probably, throughout the years, his daughter will raise questions about the fact that he’s not dating or even married to Eunji. But what concerns him, even more, is when he’ll start his life with someone else. One day, he’ll date someone. A person important enough that he’ll introduce to his daughter. There’s even a possibility that he’ll have children with that person. What would happen then with Arya? Would she be jealous of her siblings because they would have both their parents in a relationship while her parents don’t love each other in a romantic way?

“You know, baby,” he starts saying while thinking about the right words to use. “Usually when a mommy and a daddy live in the same house, it’s because they are in love like they are a girlfriend and a boyfriend but your mommy and I are not in love that way. I like your mommy but not in the way to be her boyfriend.”

The only person he has ever loved that way is you, but he totally lost you when you ran away like a thief. Eunji is somebody that he deeply cherishes but he’ll never be in love with her.

“Oh, it makes sense,” she says with a smile on her face. “But you not want mommy to be your girlfriend?”

Now, he’s the one having a little smile on his face. She’s definitely trying to understand the situation at a very young age, but that doesn’t mean she wants her parents to be like every other parent. Jungkook’s mom has already told him a million times that he doesn’t have to be worried about all this. The normal for Arya is having her parents in 2 different houses and not being in a relationship. For the moment, she’s just very young but she feels safe in this situation because he always made sure with Eunji that everything works well and that she feels loved all the time.

“No, baby,” he answers.

She nods, and he knows that she understands everything. It’s such a relief that she was just asking to understand.

“When mommy is back?” She asks.

“Next week and until there, you’ll always be with me,” he replies.

“Mommy will call us?” She questions.

Eunji has been calling every day to see her little girl. Even though she’s enjoying her holidays with her boyfriend ⏤ a boyfriend Arya isn’t aware of ⏤, she misses her baby every second of the day. She’s her mother, she carried her for nine months before bringing her to the world.

“Of course, she will,” he answers, “and if we don’t get a call before you go to bed, we’ll call her, okay?”

She nods before eating a bit of her Minnie Mouse-shaped pancake. She loves shaped pancakes and Jungkook always does them in the way she wants. If she wants regular pancakes, that’s definitely a sign to get worried.

The two of them keep eating pancakes while discussing all the interesting things Arya did at school today. She always speaks with such enthusiasm about what she did, she adores going to school and learning new things. Both Jungkook and Eunji believe she’s precocious. She’s extremely smart for her age but they try to not force her into anything. She does whatever she wants and they support her no matter what she decides. The most important thing is her happiness.

Once they are done eating, she goes to her little room to play with her little toys. Jungkook goes back to the desk that was set up in one of the empty rooms of his massive mansion. He turns on his computer and quickly checks the last unread emails he received. There are quite a few but that’s totally normal.

After a couple of minutes, his bodyguard knocks at the door.

“There’s a certain y/n at the door,” he says.

Jungkook’s heart stops and his entire body freezes. What on earth are you doing here? And how did you find out where he lives? This is honestly something he didn’t expect to arrive. He’s been avoiding being at work to not see you in person, however, he’s been checking every email you sent and he’s been also following very closely your progress at work. His mind has been even more flooded than usual by you.

“Thanks, Jin,” he adds before standing up.

The CEO of Jeon Industries rearranges his shirt and takes a quick glance at the mirror. He swapped his usual costume for a white t-shirt and jeans. When he’s at home, he just likes to feel comfortable like anyone else. There’s no need to put expensive clothes on to simply stay at home.

As he nervously walks to the entrance door, he thinks about all the possible reasons that would explain your presence here. Nothing really comes up to his mind which makes him even more nervous. Once in front of the door, he takes a deep breath and opens it.

You’re right there, standing in front of the door. Since he has seen you again, Jungkook has noticed that you now wear makeup. It wasn’t the case before, you used to prefer the natural look and he was kind of a fan of it. He used to find you astonishingly courageous for not using any makeup when most people wouldn’t dare go out without at least foundation on their face.

But as he’s watching you, he realizes once more how the two of you have changed since the last time you saw each other. A lot of time has passed since you both broke up. It even felt that it was a lifetime ago that he was part of your history.

“Hi, y/n,” he says with a little smile appearing on his face.

“Hello Jungkook,” you say.

None of you says anything which creates a little awkward tension.

“Sorry for coming out of nowhere, I just wanted to talk with you if it’s possible,” you explain.

Jungkook simply nods before opening the door wider to let you in. After a second of hesitation, you enter the massive mansion that he owes. This man has for sure achieved all of his dreams, there are absolutely no doubts about it. The two of you walk to his cozy living room, it looks smaller than what you imagined but it’s still pretty huge for a living room.

“Do you want to drink or eat something?” he asks.

“No, thanks,” you simply answer.

Well, you only came here to finally have that deep conversation with him. It took you one long month to decide to come but you’re finally here. You only want to go straight to the point. As you look around, you notice a lot of pictures of him with a little girl. That must be Arya, you think. Damn, you had forgotten about her. What if she’s here? For sure, you don’t want her to hear your conversation. You ignore totally how it will go. Maybe you’ll start yelling or crying. You don’t want her to find her father in such a state.

“Is your daughter here?” you question.

Your ex only nods.

“Maybe, I shouldn’t have come,” you respond. “Your time with your daughter is precious.”

Jungkook couldn’t agree more but having a conversation with you is probably something he’ll only get once in his life. His daughter, he’ll get to see her right after and then for the rest of his life. Right now, speaking with you seems more important than anything else. He’s been waiting for so long to have a conversation with you and tell you what he’s been feeling.

“I was working,” he immediately tells you, “she’s playing in her little room.”

A little smile appears on your face as you imagine the little girl in the pictures playing. She definitely looks adorable based on what you can see in the living room, and she must look even more adorable in person. You never got to see pictures of her since Lux told you that Jungkook became a father because you didn’t want to see the baby of your ex.

“We can speak,” he adds.

Well, if he says that you can speak, then you have no other choice than to do it. You nod and he invites you to take a seat on the couch. As you sit down, you feel your body slowly trembling. To say that you’re nervous is an understatement. You’re going to have a conversation with your ex, a conversation you were supposed to have ten years ago.

But what scares you the most is that this discussion will bring up all the things that broke you years ago. It’s true that throughout that time, you got to see a therapist and work through everything but it’s still different. You’re going to tell your ex why you left him.

“How did you find out where I was living?”

“Lux gave me your address,” you tell him, “she’s the one who pushed me to come talk to you.”

In the end, she was right. Jungkook took the first step and talked to you in the meeting room so now it’s your turn to make the second step. The past month, you’ve been thinking about it a lot and he deserves to know everything, even if it’s ten years later.

“So we’re lucky to have her in our lives,” he simply responds.

For sure, you’re more than lucky to have her. She’s your rock. However, you totally ignore what she represents to him because she doesn’t really talk about the relationship she has with him. Something that you have been really thankful for.

“Indeed,” you say while nodding.

Your eyes quickly scan the man sitting in front of you. A part of his tattooed sleeve is noticeable as he’s wearing a white t-shirt. This is something completely new to you. Back when you were dating, Jungkook only had one tattoo, his first. The part of his tattooed arm that you can see looks actually very good, it definitely suits him very well. But what really captivates all your attention is how broader he has become. You can perfectly see his toned figure. There’s no doubt that he has been working out a lot for the past years.

“I first wanted to apologize for everything, including how I treated you before we broke up and following the breakup,” you start saying.

Jungkook nods with a very serious look on his face. “I appreciate it,” he says. He bites his lower lip, holding back what he really wants to say but then, he remembers that there’s absolutely no point in holding back what he’s been dreaming to tell you since the breakup. “But a simple apology ten years later can’t brush away all the pain you put me through.”

At his words, your heart breaks even more. It’s one thing to imagine and believe that you deeply hurt him but it’s totally another thing to hear him say it. But you deserve to hear that. Before you weren’t strong enough to hear it but now you are. Well, it’s definitely going to hurt but you’ll be able to handle it better.

“I know but you still deserve an apology for everything I did to you,” you answer. “You didn’t deserve any of this and I’m sincerely and deeply sorry.”

This is something you truly mean. You’re perfectly aware that you did things completely wrong so before anything else, he deserves to hear that you’re sorry.

Jungkook runs his fingers through his hair while closing for a brief moment his eyes. He never thought that he’d hear those words one day and he definitely never thought he’d need to hear them. His life moved on even though he didn’t get to have your apology. Right now, it feels like he’s being violently pushed back in the past but he definitely needs this moment. He needs to understand what happened ten years ago.

Even though he loves Lux with his entire soul, he refused to put her in an awkward position and never asked her anything. Of course, he’s aware that she knows everything but it wouldn’t have been nice of him to ask her anything about you. The person who needed to explain what happened was you. Nobody else but you.  

“You broke me, yn,” he says with a shaky voice. “You broke me in a way nobody else did before and in a way nobody else ever did after you.”

Although you broke him, he still feels safe near you to tell you the full truth. You’re the only person that has ever made him feel that way and he knows he’ll never find this with anyone else.

Your eyes roam at his face, he’s definitely devastated. He can’t fool anyone, it’s written in his eyes. That definitely destroys you even more. This conversation will for sure leave his print in you. There’s no way that after this your life will be the same.

“My daughter is living proof of how much you destroyed me,” his eyes stare deep into yours. “I wanted to forget my own pain and the only way I could was to fuck any girl who would want it. I don’t even remember the day Arya was made because I was completely blinded by my heartache.”

The fact that he can’t remember the day his daughter was conceived made him cry a lot of times. In those moments, he deeply hates you because if you had never broken him that way, he would remember. But then he rationalizes. Without the breakup and the pain, his daughter wouldn’t even exist.  

“Even today the ache is still unbearable but I got used to it,” he finishes.

Well, it’s the same for you. There’s been so much pain in your life for more than ten years but with time, you got used to it. There were also people that eased it in some way but it has never left you.

“I’m so sorry for everything,” you say once again, “but I was in so much pain back then, and I thought it was best to push you away.”

Jungkook’s heart breaks a little because he knows a bit about what happened. Well, he actually knows the thing that tormented you but he also doesn’t have the full picture.

“My sister‘s death devastated me,” you start saying.

At your words, his heart breaks a little more. Jungkook had the opportunity to meet your sister, he got to be around her and create memories with her. She was a beautiful person, she was funny, full of life and always smiling. Tragically, she lost her life in a terrible car accident with her boyfriend. He still remembers when you got the news, he was the one holding you when you fell on the floor, when your world fell apart. After that moment, you never were the same. To say that it broke you is more than an understatement. A part of you stopped shining as before following the passing of your sister.

“My heart was violently ripped from my chest,” tears start forming in your eyes. “I didn’t know who I was without her, I didn’t know how to keep living without her. Going home without her being there anymore was heartbreaking, I’d fall apart every single time.”

Remembering that very dark period is hard for the two of you. Mourning your sister has been a very long process, it took you years before you were able to speak about her without falling apart. Exceptionally, being with Jungkook makes you vulnerable and it’s making it hard to remember that time of your life.

“Although you were there, I wanted to do my grieving on my own because it was mine,” you tell him. “It was overwhelming but it was my pain, not yours so I was the one who needed to learn to live with it because nobody could do that for me.”

Even if you loved him with your entire soul and knew he’d always be by your side, this was something you needed to do by yourself. Having Jungkook by your side was just distracting you, it was making you forget the pain but you weren’t allowing yourself to feel which was what you needed.

“So I started pushing you back because with you around me, I would just think about you and how you were feeling, I wasn’t focusing on myself.”

Despite the fact that it hurts him that you pushed him away a few months after the tragic death of your sister, today he gets why you did it. He wanted to be there and help you when you needed it the most but he’s understanding that it was your grief and you needed to figure out on your own how to deal with it.  

“Around that time, I don’t know if you recall but I kissed a guy at a party,” you tell him.

Jungkook nods. That kiss was what really crushed your relationship. Things weren’t the same after you confessed you had kissed a guy. It was a guy you had a crush on before you met Jungkook, you deeply wanted to date him but things never happened because he was in a relationship with a girl. Back when it happened, he was having a hard time with his ex. You were such at a low point in your life, you were completely drunk and he was there, being nice to you.

Instantly, you regretted what you did. Jungkook was a sweetheart with you, always there by your side even when you were pushing him away. He loved you with his entire heart and you were destroying everything. But most importantly, you were hurting the person you loved the most.  

“I felt even worse after cheating on you,” you add.

Your ex doesn’t say anything, he’d like to say over again that he never considered that kiss as cheating. He still doesn’t because cheating to him goes further than a kiss. Cheating is seeing someone, talking to that person regularly, flirting with them, and having sex with them. For him, a simple kiss isn’t cheating. But that wasn’t your opinion. You saw that as cheating.

“I started hating myself for what I did to you, I wasn’t able to look at myself in the mirror and I wasn’t able to be with you, pretending like nothing happened,” a tear starts running down your face. “That little voice in my head was telling me over and over again that I wasn’t worthy of your love, that I actually never was.”

Things start to make a little more sense to Jungkook. You were at a very low point in your life, you were making a mess and you were not feeling lovable anymore.

“I had forgiven you for the kiss, I told you over again that to me, it wasn’t cheating what you did,” he explains again with a visible ache in his eyes. “It was a simple kiss and I don’t consider that as cheating.”

You look away, tears running down your face. Life was tough back then and you’re ashamed of everything you did back then. Pushing Jungkook away was for sure the best decision you took back then. There’s no doubt you would have hurt him way more and he wouldn’t deserve it.

“I never deserved your love, Jungkook,” you confess. “I knew you’d forgive me and I was not deserving of that forgiveness at that time. I was hurting you over and over again and you didn’t deserve that, you were worthy of all the love in the world which I wasn’t able to give you back then.”

For sure, he understands your reasons but man, he would have preferred you told him all this ten years ago. Probably, it wouldn’t have avoided the breakup but maybe, things would have been completely different.

“I was so disgusted by myself,” you add.

Jungkook gets closer to you, his hand grabs your chin before slowly and carefully turning your face to look at him. Hearing how hard you were on yourself saddens him more than you can imagine. There’s no need in being disgusted by yourself. What you did was wrong, he did feel disrespected but he thinks that you’re being a bit too harsh on yourself.

“At some point, I even felt like I did that to be a ‘good’ girl for my parents,” your eyes look deep into his.

It was no secret that your parents weren’t supporters of your relationship. They were nice to him but they never believed he was the right one for you and they also didn’t like him that much. They were always saying that he wasn’t treating you right when at the very end, you were the one not treating him right. But they accepted him because you were staying with him and defending him whenever they would say something negative about him. Clearly after 2 years of relationship, they didn’t have much choice than accept it. However, after your sister’s passing, they started being less hard on him because he was there for all of you.  

“Your parents never liked me,” a little smile appears on his face. “But it was understandable, I was kind of a fuckboy before meeting you and I was still looking like one during our relationship.”

That is true but it wasn’t right the way they treated him. You weren’t asking them to actually like him but to accept him and respect him. Being with him was your choice and they had to respect that. If he wasn’t the right person for you, it’d be up to you to understand it, not them.

“That was not an excuse though,” you answer.

The man in front of you nods, his thumb caressing your chin. It’s definitely strange for the two of you to feel his fingers touching your skin. It seems like it was a lifetime ago since you last touched each other.  

“This is what…”

Before you can finish your sentence, Jungkook’s eyes look to the right when you both hear little footsteps. As he looks to the right, you turn your face in the same direction. A little girl, wearing a large yellow t-shirt with matching shorts, is staring at the two of you with visible confusion. She’s holding in her little hands a drawing. Her father immediately stands up to reach her.

“Daddy, who is her?” she asks her father.

Jungkook gets down on his knees to be at her level. His hands gently caress her little shoulders in a way to try to comfort her.

“She’s an old friend of mine,” he starts saying to Arya. “We were friends a very long time ago and she visited me today.”

She nods, her little eyes looking at you. You give her a little smile. She’s absolutely adorable. There’s absolutely no doubt she’s Jungkook’s daughter but she isn’t a mini copy of him. She’s still a lot different than him, at least that’s what you think.

“Would you go say ‘hello’ to her?” he tells his daughter.

Once more, she nods before slowly walking to you. Seeing this little girl reminds you of how deeply you want a child of your own. However, it feels like it’s not going to happen any time soon. You still need to find a man who you’ll fall in love with and whom you'd like to start a family with. But at this pace, you won't have children until you're 40.

“Hello, I am Arya,” she says with a little smile. “My daddy is Jangkoo.”

The way she pronounces her father’s name makes you smile and makes your heart melt. She’s so cute, that’s something she definitely inherited from her father. Your ex smiles as well when he hears his little girl speaking.

“Hey, Arya,” you say with a big smile. “It’s a pleasure meeting you. My name is Yn.”

Jungkook watches the two of you interact together. That’s for sure something he never thought he’d witness in his life. Technically, if his daughter wouldn’t have come up to the living room, the chance of meeting her would be actually very low.

“Is that a drawing you’re holding in your hands?” You ask her.

She nods before showing you with pride her drawing.

“This is dadda,” she tells you while showing you an apparent man.

“It definitely looks a lot like him, you’re very talented Arya,” you tell her.

She instantly smiles brightly at you, she spent a lot of time drawing her father so she’s super proud to hear that. Of course, outside the colors of his outfit and the ‘dadda’ written on top of his head, it’s hard to tell that it’s him but the most important is her intention.

“Dadda is at home with me and we are eating pancakes,” she explains while showing her representation of eating pancakes with her father.

This definitely melts your heart. Now, you’re a hundred percent sure that Jungkook is the best father to this little girl. She won the lottery with him, and she definitely knows it, you can tell it. She speaks with so much pride about her father, he’s her superhero.

While speaking with his little girl, you totally forget the rest. It’s like there’s just you and her. Even Jungkook disappeared although you were here in the first place to talk to him. But this girl is absolutely adorable and she doesn’t seem shy at all.

Jungkook watches with marvell the two of you interacting together. He has never seen Arya behaving this way around anybody else. That convinces him even more that you’re the one. It can’t be anybody else but you. There’s for sure a lot more that needs to be discussed between the two of you but as he’s watching you with his daughter, he can’t keep but wondering if ten years ago, he fell in love with you at the wrong time. Would today be the right time to try again?

For the past week, you and Jungkook have been occasionally talking by messages. After meeting his daughter, you exchanged numbers before leaving his place. It was weird but you’ve been happier than ever talking with him. Of course, it has been making you nervous and anxious because it has brought back a lot of the pain you felt around the time you broke up.

But you’ve been trying to just go with the flow. This is hard for the two of you, you’re very aware of it. Everything is different but at the same time, still the same.

Outside the talking through messages, you haven’t spoken to or seen him which you believe has been helpful. Being around him would have made you even more nervous. For sure, there’s more to talk about since you were interrupted by his daughter but you need more time to prepare yourself for the rest of the conversation.

Today is saturday. You’re chilling at home, watching ‘The Cown’ on Netflix. Although you adore going out with friends, you also enjoy staying at home to rest, especially after a tough week at work like this past week was. You’re drinking a cappuccino that you prepared a couple of minutes ago.

The doorbell rings which surprises you a lot. You’re definitely not expecting anyone today. The plan is to absolutely avoid seeing people but to enjoy your own company. It's a self-care day. You put your cappuccino on the coffee table before standing up to open the door.    

To your surprise, as you open the door, Jungkook appears before your eyes. Your eyes open wide as you see him, to say that it’s a surprise is an understatement. He was the last person you’d expect to see here because he doesn’t know where you live. Well, at least, that’s what you thought.

“Hi,” you finally say.

A little smile appears on his face when he sees you. He’s happy to see you, he’s been avoiding you at all costs because he was more than scared to finish the conversation you started at his place.

“Hi, Yn,” he says to you.

Hearing his voice instantly appeases you. That’s the superpower of Jungkook. Well, that’s one amongst others. That deep voice of his always had a comforting effect on you, but a hug in his strong arms would always be even more comforting. All your worries would disappear instantly and it would warm your heart in a way that you can’t even describe.

“Come on in,” you answer as you invite him inside.

The best is that no one that works with you sees your boss in front of your place. That would cause a lot of unnecessary drama at work. Something that you want to avoid. It’s already not easy to have your ex as your boss. Jungkook enters your little apartment, his eyes looking around him.  

“How did you get my address?”

This question brings you back to when you appear at his place.

“You’re my employee, it’s easy to find all your personal data,” he simply answers.

Well, in fact, in 2 clicks, he found your address. That’s the perk of being the CEO of the company and having you as his employee.

“Right,” you say with a little smile. “Take a seat on the couch,” you invite him to sit down. “Would you like to drink or eat something?” you propose.

“No, thanks,” he replies.

Jungkook sits down on your couch, and you take a place next to him but you both face each other. As you quickly look at him, you can’t help but notice the way his eyes are glomming. He’s different, something has definitely changed.

“Listen,” Jungkook doesn’t waste a minute. “Talking to you last week was very good and helpful.”

You nod, your heart beating a little faster in your chest and your hands getting sweatier. The nervousness is increasing like crazy, your place is getting hotter but you need to listen to what he has to say.

“Talking to you got me to understand how you were feeling and I’m very thankful for that,” he adds.

You can sense that there is a ‘but’ coming. He wouldn’t come to just thank you for everything you said a week ago. There are 10 years of pain inside his heart and that can’t be erased with a simple ‘thank you’.  

“But that was a conversation we were supposed to have years ago, not now.”

He’s totally right, this is something you should have talked about right after the breakup. This almost feels like it’s too late. Back then, you were in no state to have this conversation. It wouldn’t have been constructive, it would have only been you accusing him of small things that he did throughout your relationship. That wouldn’t have helped any of you and Jungkook would have ended up hating you more. More pain wasn’t necessary.

“I was convinced you were the one, even during the past ten years, I was still convinced about it,” he adds. “Nobody could ever make me feel half of the way you made me feel. I spent the last years looking for you in every girl I could find. I’d sleep and date a lot of girls but it’d be heartbreaking when I realized what I was doing with those girls.”

It breaks your heart even more. You were never worthy of his love, and maybe, you’ll never be. However, you still love him. You never stopped loving him and you never will because he is the love of your life. There’s no doubt about it. You’re ready to wait all the time that he needs. Even if you have to wait ten years.

“I also believe that you’re the love of my life,” you shyly reply.

Jungkook’s heart starts racing crazily in his chest. This isn’t something he was expecting to hear but he would be lying if he said that he isn’t happy to hear those words. For the past years, he was convinced that you simply stopped loving him although he was still thinking that you were the one. Call him crazy but it was a gut feeling. You can’t really ignore that kind of feeling.

The man next to you gets closer, both your hearts beating extremely fast. Something is building in the air, you both can feel it. It’s the little tension that you were so used to feeling when you were together but that has gone missing for the past ten years. So it is extremely weird and none of you knows what to do.

As a consequence, you bite your lower lip while he runs his fingers through his hair, trying to avoid looking down at your low-necked shirt. He knows that if he does look, it’ll be the end of him. But for sure, when the two of you are alone in a closed-door room, the chances that you don’t end up having sex are very low. It happened all the time during your relationship and also the day after the breakup.

However, as much as he tried looking away, your natural scent is something that has always brought him to his knees. He always adored the way you smell and it hasn’t changed since the last time he saw you. His eyes glare down at your chest, noticing instantly that you’re not using any bra. Your breast is almost fully displayed before his clearly hungry eyes. Your ex takes a deep breath.

While your eyes glance at his face, you notice the way his stare looks down on your body. It instantly excites you, and you can sense your panties getting wetter. No man has been able to cause an instant reaction like this, only Jungkook can. Your body always reacts to whatever he does. Without noticing it, both of you lick and bite your lips. The tension is making the two of you very very hungry, there’s absolutely no way you’ll resist any of this.

His fingers finally touch the skin of your chest, causing you to sigh with pleasure. They slowly but surely start tracing their way to your left breast, your eyes closing at the burning sensation of his fingers caressing your skin. Slowly, he pushes your low-cut shirt to the left, exposing your breast to his greedy eyes. Without any hesitation, he brings his mouth to your nipple to vigorously suck it. A whine instantly leaves your lips because damn, that feels beyond good.

As he sucks your nipple, he also nibbles it, causing you to moan a bit louder. His actions lead to the growing wetness inside your panties. This is fucking good. And it’s just the beginning. The torture this man will put you through for the upcoming minutes or hours will drive you completely insane. He’ll bring you down to your knees in seconds.

After a little while that felt like an eternity to you, he presses gentle kisses in between your breasts, slowly approaching your right nipple to give it the same treatment as the left one. Your hands find their way to his dark hair, tugging it while he abuses your right breast. Right now, you’re in complete ecstasy.

Before you can even comprehend what is happening, Jungkook is undressing you, leaving you completely naked on the couch. In no time, he’s naked as well with a condom on his hands. Your eyes inevitably look down at his cock. His massive cock. To be honest, you had forgotten how big it was but damn, you absolutely don’t want to wait to feel it inside you. He quickly put the condom on before placing himself in between your legs.

Jungkook touches your intimate area to feel how wet you are.

“Damn, you’re so wet,” he whispers.

Even if you’re extremely wet, he knows that wouldn’t be enough before penetrating you. It’ll still hurt you if he just goes and he definitely doesn’t want to cause any pain to you. He wants this moment to only bring tremendous pleasure to both of you. So he decides to tease you with his cock, rubbing it against your inner lips. Moans flow from your mouth as you feel the overwhelming pleasure growing inside your body. Right now, it seems like you haven’t been touched properly in years. And even if Jungkook has already made love to you millions of times when you were together, everything feels extremely different.

“Shit, I want to fuck you so bad, yn,” he whines.

“Me too, Jungkook,” you reply.

With everything happening at the moment, it’s almost impossible for you to form a proper sentence. All you know is that you’re desperate to have sex with this man. Your moans are the actual proof of it.  

After what appears like an eternity for you, he buries his thick cock inside your soaked core, stretching your velvety walls. His large hands find their way to your waist, caressing your soft skin while his doe eyes filled with lust look into yours. Both of you groan as he slowly pushes his long and thick cock inside you.  

“So fucking good,” you mumble as your eyes roll back.

The feeling of having him inside you and filling you up to the brim is something you did miss a lot. Although you had sex with a lot of different guys over the past years, Jungkook does it very differently but in a very good way. And it’s just the beginning. But honestly, you have a crazily immense sexual drive. You haven’t really been a saint since you last saw your ex, that is currently on top of you. All men that flirted with you and ended up in your bed have actually loved your wild sexual appetite.

Your ex leans closer, pushing his cock a bit deeper inside you and snatching a loud moan out of you.    

“You’re absolutely sexy, baby,” he whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “So sexy that I want to fuck you all day long,” his deep voice groans in your ear.

His teeth bite your earlobe before his tongue licks your ear. A deep moan leaves your lips while you feel yourself grow even wetter. This man knows exactly how to bring you down on your knees for him. And you don’t even want to start on the effect of his filthy words said with his deep voice on you.

“Then do it,” you dare to say as you want to push him to go absolutely wild today.

Jungkook is a man. Usually, men adore being pushed and they’ll fuck you just the way you want. Today, you want him to be rough with you. You want him to fuck you until all you know is to scream his name. You want all the neighbors to know how good your ex makes you feel. You want him to come inside the condom again and again until none of you can handle it anymore.

“I already plan to do it, princess,” he pulls back a bit to look you in the eyes, and a smirk arises on his face. “Tomorrow you won’t even be able to walk at all.”

You desire nothing more than this. To be completely sore and swollen down there.

“You have absolutely no idea of all the things I desire to do to you,” he presses a gentle kiss on your cheek. “You’ll beg me to never stop,” he adds.  

Jungkook slowly pushes back, only leaving the tip of his cock inside you. His eyes never leave your figure, watching you moan under him. That’s a sound he loves, and he missed it a lot. He dreamed of this a lot since the last time you had sex.

“Then, show me no mercy, Jungkook,” you answer.

A smirk appears on his face, satisfied to hear you say those words. Damn, he wants nothing more than to drive you completely crazy.

Brutally, he pushes his cock fully inside you, and a loud moan leaves your lips. For a little while, he doesn't move, hovering over you and watching you with delight. His eyes look down on your body. For sure, your body is different than it was ten years ago but you’re still absolutely stunning. Your skin is still very soft like he remember it was.

For the two of you, this seems like something totally new while being something very familiar. It’s quite odd but it feels good. Sex usually feels good, the two of you can say it out of experience. Jungkook groans as he watches himself buried deep inside you.

“Your cunt still takes me so fucking well, princess.”

You close your eyes, completely enjoying having him fully inside you. What you like the most about shutting down your eyes during intercourse is how you connect more to your body. With your eyes closed, you can deeply experience everything that is going on. However, it can also be extremely overwhelming, especially when the man you’re having sex with is awfully good in bed.  

Once Jungkook sees that you’re ready to take more, he brutally pulls back before slamming himself back into you. The couch under you squeaks while a very deep moan escapes your lips. If he does it again, the sofa’s back is going to hit the wall and even probably destroy it. However, right now, you absolutely don’t give a shit.  

Jungkook once again stops when he’s fully inside you, torturing you just to hear you begging him to fuck you. He hasn’t heard you beg for anything in years so it’s just legitimate he craves it deeply at this precise moment.

“Please,” you say grumbling, “fuck me.”

Jungkook leans closer again. “I love to hear you begging, princess,” he whispers before licking the spot just under your ear.

He pushes his cock back before slamming into you with both hands on your hips, pulling you back to meet his thrusts. The slick sound of your pussy soaking his cock as well as your moans are filling the room. All those sounds remind you that you’re doing something completely nasty with your ex but damn, this is beyond amazing.  

“Shit,” you gasp while he thrusts into you with no mercy, “you feel so good.”

You’re completely drunk in the feeling of his cock filling you up, his hips hitting against yours with every thrust he makes. This all causes sparks of pleasure to shoot throughout your body, your arousal dripping from your core and creaming the condom on his cock. Jungkook smirks as he notices the sticky mess you’re slowly causing. His cock is buried deep inside you, brushing against your walls that causes you to moan even louder each time. You grip the couch as hard as possible to steady yourself from Jungkook’s hard thrusts, but it definitely is an impossible mission.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby girl,” he hisses before biting his lower lip. His hands press harder into your skin when he feels your walls tighten around him. “And making such a mess on my cock.”

Every time he pushes his hips back, he watches with delight the way the condom is completely covered with your arousal. Nothing drives him crazier than seeing this, you can see it in his eyes.

“You love it, don’t you?” You ask him. His doe eyes look up at you, and they are filled with lust, making you shiver as they look at you.

Jungkook bends down, pressing a sloppy kiss on your lips while his thrusts slow down. A desperate whine gushes from you, a sound that he instantly swallows. His hands move up on your body, grabbing your breasts and squeezing them to make you moan with desire before his fingers start playing with your nipples. Moans flood out of your mouth as your ex keeps torturing your body at a slow pace. Your hands irresistibly grab his hair, tugging it as much as possible.

“It feels so good,” you whine, “fuck, Kook.”

The nickname surprises both of you but it left your lips in the heat of the moment. For sure, it’ll be the only time you’ll say it, at least for now. But it warms his heart to hear you call him by this nickname.

His thrusts are slow and harsh again, and his fingers on your nipples are just too much for you. They are extremely sensitive but it’s absolutely normal. Once someone starts playing with them, they just get sensitive and it just brings a lot of delight to you.  

Gradually, Jungkook begins to thrust hard into you again, and you moan at the feeling of his brutal thrust. Your walls suck his cock as he slams his hips into you with more force. His fingers keep playing with your very sensitive nipples, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. It’s clear that he knows how to drive somebody crazy.

His eyes look at you, completely contorted with pleasure as it slowly builds within you. Your moans are getting louder, you’re not one to hold back or stifle your groans because that’s for sure an indicator to Jungkook of how good he’s making you feel and if he’s doing things well.

“Moan louder, baby,” he says as he goes deeper and harder to make you scream with pleasure. He loves it so damn much.  

His hands can feel the way your body quivers with each thrust. The way he’s torturing your body is only making you lose yourself further but damn, you haven’t been fucked this way ever in your life. This is magical, your entire body has completely surrendered to this man.  

“Fuck,” he groans when he feels the warmth of your walls wrapping tighter around him. “Your cunt is clenching so hard, baby.”

The sweat is dampening his body, sticking his long hair to his face. That vision alone can make you come undone right now. As you stare at him, you can’t help but think how lucky you are to be doing this right now. His eyes stare down at you with passion and lust as his tongue licks his lower lips. He keeps growling your name, thrusting into you with more urgency each time.

“Fuck,” you say as you move your hips to meet his thrust.

Jungkook leans forward, pressing another sloppy kiss on your lips. He’s been enjoying sensing your lips on his, even if the kiss is a disaster. Currently, all he craves is you, and in any way. Your eyes never cease to look at him, he’s mesmerizing and incredibly hot. Man, he’s even hotter than he was years ago. You bite your bottom lip as you admire him.

“Gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” He asks, and you nod.

All you want right now is to do as he wishes and you’re also very close to exploding due to all the pleasure he’s causing. But Jungkook wants to hear you begging to come, he wants to know how badly you want to come.

“Use your words, baby girl.”

His fingers pinch your nipples harder, making the wave of pleasure grow bigger inside you. A loud moan escapes your lips.

“I want to come,” you manage to say, “I wanna come so-so bad.”

Jungkook feels his cock twitching inside of you, a low groan rumbling in his throat as you practically beg him to let you come. He smirks like he has won the award for the best fuck of the year. One of his hands slowly goes down on your body, passing your stomach, and landing on your throbbing clit. His fingers start to rub your sensitive spot as his cock keeps hitting your sensitive walls.

“Beg for it, baby girl,” he says.

His fingers show no mercy on your clit, and you’re not even sure if you’ll be able to beg for anything before coming. You’re a complete mess right now, and you’ve completely surrendered to the overwhelming sensations you’re experiencing.

“Please, Kook,” you manage to say.

With the way he’s torturing you, you can’t even form a proper sentence. You actually can’t even think at all, outside the fact that you love what Jungkook is doing to you.  

“Tell me, baby girl,” he keeps teasing you with a smirk on his face.

For sure, he would have loved to experience other positions with you for more pleasure. But this is just the beginning. He’ll let you come now and later, he’ll torture you with other sex positions. He won’t leave you alone today, that he’s sure about.

“Let me come.”

His smirk grows bigger on his face, happy to have you begging him to come. Teasing you is something that he’s enjoying a lot. The wave of pleasure inside you is growing bigger and bigger, becoming way too overwhelming. You’re moaning like a mess, but at this stage, you couldn’t care less.      

“Do it, princess, come for me.”

Those words are what you needed to hear to let go of everything. Instantly, the wave of pleasure that was growing inside of you violently hits you, making you come hard around him. Your arousal totally covers the condom on his cock and your walls squeeze him over and over again.

While you’re completely euphoric from your orgasm, he speeds up the pace of his hips slamming into you, wanting to chase his own high. He’s aware that in a matter of seconds, he’ll burst into the condom. Breathy whines escape his pretty lips as he looks down at the mess you made. His eyes are completely hypnotized where your bodies meet.

It doesn’t take him too long to be hit by his own orgasm, desperate moans leaving his mouth when it happens. His eyes roll back with pleasure as his body tenses up and releases his load inside the condom, loud cries of euphoria leaving his lips.

You move a bit on the couch to leave him some room to lie down. There’s not a lot of place for the two of you on the couch next to each other.

“Maybe you can rest on top of me,” he suggests as he removes the condom from his cock.

You simply nod while standing up to let him rest how ever he wants on the couch. The second he’s well installed, you rest on top of him, your head against his chest. His beating heart rocks you, his strong arms holding you tight against him. For a little while, none of you speaks. His hands caress your body which soothes you after this wild moment.

“Once we really calm down from this ecstatic sex, would you like to go on a date with me?” Jungkook asks.

[shellshocklove]

brat four: everything is romantic | joel miller

pairing/au: joel miller x brat!female!reader – no outbreak

summary: joel's brat summer has come to an end.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap, enemies to lovers vibes? swearing, drinking of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes, use of pet names, angst, fluff, smut, brat tamed? reader, dom!joel, a hint of sub!joel? manhandling, oral sex (69-ing), cock worship, pussy pronouns, a little dacryphilia, degradation (whore, slut), multiple orgasms, squirting, creampie, some sub space territory, unprotected sex (don’t do it!), one (1) use of the word 'daddy', no use of y/n

a/n: here is the final chapter! thank you as always to @dustydaddyyy! 💚 without her i don't think would've been able to finish this.

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3 / playlist

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

He was used to being listened to, your father, his voice weighty although every word he spewed was superfluous. You watched how his jaw moved, up and down, up and down, almost like he moved in slow motion, the spit splattering in big drops.

"–I need you to smile with your eyes this time– the social media intern told me a lot of people on twitter said you looked like you didn't want to be there… are you even listening?" he spat.

Never in your life had you wanted to roll your eyes as much as you wanted to now. Something ripped deep inside your heart, at a wound that had never really closed. You were used to the feeling; a quiet rage simmering under your skin at yourself for feeling it still.

"Dad, I already told your secretary weeks ago that I can't be there–"

"I don't fucking care–" he cut you off, "I tell you to be somewhere and you'll be there, understood? Don't forget your place, now."

The threat didn't sting as much as it had a few years ago. What used to scare you in the past, now only managed to make you angry. You had packed your bags already. The summer was over, your last year of post grad was waiting, along with your new internship, you couldn't just miss the first few days because your father needed you to stand behind him and smile (with your eyes) at a fundraiser.

It was ridiculous.

Oh, how stupid you'd felt when he'd arrived at the house, thinking he was there to say goodbye, to be a father for once.

Turns out you were ridiculous.

"Or else?" you spat out so quickly you didn't have time to regret it.

His eyes hardened, eyes growing cold as he dug them deep into you. The words you'd spat out had hung over your conversations with your father for years, but never had you spoken them aloud. He made you feel so small, he'd always made you feel small, and you were done with it.

He stepped closer, the kitchen island the only thing separating you now, and raised a finger at you. "What did you just say?"

Behind your ribcage your heart beat out of your chest, pumping your rage throughout your body. Images flashed before your eyes, a supercut of your childhood, of the countless times he'd stood over you with poisoned words.

"I said: or else? You need a hearing aid or something?"

Your father stepped around the island, and a fear gripped around your throat, your legs backed off on their own accord. He froze then, a pleased smile tugging at his face, ripping it apart. You felt sick to your stomach.

"Or else…" he started, "I'll cut you off. If you're gonna be an ungrateful bitch like this, I ain't giving you a penny– I'll have you removed from my will, I'll disinherit you, you understand?"

"You wouldn't dare," you tried to argue back, but your voice lacked bite and your anger.

"Oh, sweetie, I'll do it with a smile."

Looking at your father, how pleased with himself he looked, you felt your whole body deflate. How could the man who gave you life, who put you on this earth have so much hatred in his heart for you? What was it about you that was so hard to love?

"It would be a relief," he continued, but his voice sounded far away, "to finally be rid of you."

"'m sorry to interrupt y'all talkin'," Joel's drawl cut through the room, "we're finishin' up out here 'nd we need your final approval."

Joel was looking straight at you, but it was hard to interpret his face. Something dragged across it, like he fought to keep himself in check, but softening at the edges as he looked at you.

How dared he? How dared he look at you like that?

“I’m paying for this nonsense so I’ll be the judge of that,” your father huffed, pushing past you to slip out into the backyard, leaving you alone with Joel.

Suddenly, the room felt awfully stuffy, something heavy growing between you and Joel. He must've caught the end of you and your father's conversation. A mix of anger and embarrassment simmered at the bottom of your stomach at the thought.

You'd done exactly as he'd wished; you'd slipped quietly out the door at the wedding and left your dignity behind. The summer never wanted to end, and seeing him day in and day out, working away in the backyard stung more than you'd ever admit out loud.

So you'd kept your distance, leaving early to mill about downtown, trying to fill your days with anything to keep you from thinking of him. Joel wasn't worth the energy. Joel was a bug under your shoe to crush.

(Joel was all you ever thought about.)

At night a childish desires would plague you. The dark conjured them forth, made your mind lenient with hope, hope that he'd storm into the house like some love interest in a romcom to beg for your forgiveness, or he'd kiss you, or fuck you, or everything all at once.

When morning came, and you caught his eyes as you slipped out the house, you were reminded of the coldness in his voice, and not the warmth of his touch. What was the real Joel? Maybe it didn't matter? Joel had been fun until it wasn't anymore, a fling for the summer, nothing more– never anything more, because you didn't fall in love.

Love.

What even was love? Was it the way Joel looked at you right now as he stepped closer?

No.

You hated him.

Tears pushed at the back of your eyes, a lump building in your throat as you held them back. How could you ever love someone who'd treat you like that? You needed to leave; you'd rather die than Joel see you cry. Your father you could handle, that old wound would never close and the pain was numbed long ago, but Joel was like a wound to the gut that wouldn't stop bleeding.

"Hey," Joel's hand wrapped around your wrist, holding you back from leaving, "You okay?"

This motherfucker.

"Why do you care?" you bit back through your tears, because why did he? Why did he care? He'd been pretty clear he wanted nothing to do with you. "You didn't sign up for my antics, don't you remember?" you tore at your hand, and you slipped between his fingers.

Pushing through the door, you ran up the stairs to your room. Joel didn't bother with a reply, and you hated how it stung in your chest. The door slung shut behind you, and you collapsed on the bed. Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you wouldn't let your tears fall. Instead, your curled your knees to your chest, and focused on your breath.

Breathe in, slowly, steady, and then out again.

Again, and again.

Breathe in, and out.

Again, and again.

A knock at the door startled you, and you couldn't tell if you'd fallen asleep or lulled yourself into a false sense of peace. Sitting up, you wiped at your eyes, before jostling to your feet when the door opened.

There he stood, Joel, in the doorway of your childhood bedroom, rough jeans clasped in by a tool belt. He didn't belong in here, you didn't belong in here – not anymore. He didn't say anything, only looked around the room, like he was looking for you. Maybe he was? This was where you'd been born – the girl who felt like a complete mess – the disguise masquerading like a brat.

"What do you want?" you spat.

A frown pulled at Joel's face, and his eyes tried to catch your gaze, which you desperately avoided.

“We’re all finished up out there,” he told you, fingers twitching at his side, “We’ll be out of your hair in a couple of minutes.”

Why was he even in your room? Your dad had been out there, he’d talked to him, probably gotten the okay from him. Everything was taken care of… so why was he here?

“Okay, that’s fine,” you nodded, keeping your voice cold and devoid of any emotion. Joel cleared his throat uneasily.

“... your dad, uh, left.”

His tone was difficult to read, something akin to pity legible between the lines. You gave him a dry, sardonic smile.

“Of course.”

You scoffed, wrapping your arms around yourself as you turned your back on him, looking out the window. Of course you weren’t even worth a goodbye. You wanted it to hurt, but you’d been rejected by him your whole life. Never ever did you want it to happen again, but now you braced yourself for Joel’s rejection, of the sound of his footsteps getting quieter and quieter as he walked out of your life.

“Goin’ somewhere?” Joel said quietly, and you couldn’t hold back your head from looking past your shoulder. His eyes had found your packed bags left by the door, the bags now fuller than when you’d arrived at the start of the summer.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” you countered. You wished your voice was harder, more accusing, but it just sounded meek.

“Looks like you’re leavin’ for good.”

“I am.”

A frown pulled at Joel’s face. Confusion and sadness? You couldn’t tell what it meant, couldn’t understand him– and maybe you never had. Maybe you’d just gotten ahead of yourself, put meaning where there wasn’t any. Confused attention with adoration.

“Then it’s my business,” Joel said, almost angry. “If you're goin' away for good then I’d like to know 'bout it.”

“Why?” you snapped, your voice biting, “So now you don’t like it when I disappear quietly? You should make up your damn mind, Joel.”

Your words seemed to stun Joel into a surprised silence. If he wasn't going to leave you alone, you'd be the one to walk out instead. You didn’t have to stay here any longer and listen to him pretend to care, not when he’d made it so clear he didn’t.

The thought gnawed at you, simmering down your anger and draining you of any substantial fight. You didn’t need to re-hash this. Tonight you were going home, to your real home, and you'd never see him again. What was the point in making this harder than it had to be? You’d always thought you were tough, you are tough, and maybe all this pain had its benefits; you'd built up a bit of a callus. You were tough skin where nothing could pierce through to the core. 

“Look, I don’t need to go over this again, okay?” you let out, your voice a strange mixture of anger and defeat, “I got the message, loud and clear, now can you fuck off?”

This was the first time you’d sworn at Joel like this. You wished your voice was angrier, or cold and calculated, like how his own voice had sounded when he kicked you out the door at the wedding. Instead, there was a raw undertone in your voice, a hurt you hadn’t intended for Joel to hear.

Joel's silence rubbed at you, rubbed your skin raw. You wanted him to scream at you, raise his voice and say something entirely too hurtful. At least then it would feel okay, you could leave with a good conscience. It just didn't work out. When Joel didn’t move, your jaw clenched, nose drawing an irritated breath.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

You turned towards the door, managing two or three furious steps before Joel spoke.

“Red,” he said suddenly.

It was just one word, but it was that word. Your word, our word. It stopped you in your tracks, turning to look at him with shock on your face.

“What did you say?” you asked him, and for the first time today, Joel gave you a look you could entirely decipher: he looked sad, almost in a desperate way.

“Red... “ he repeated, and you watched how his fist clenched by his side, “‘means stop, right? Can we just take a second and stop this, please?”

When you said nothing, he continued, “This ain't how I want us to be leavin’ things.”

“Us?” you echoed incredulously, “I’m pretty sure you made it very clear there was no us.”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Joel let out in an exasperated breath, "Look… I should've never said those things to you, especially when–"

“Don’t,” you said, your tone and gaze full of warning.

Don’t bring him up.

This was not a topic of conversation you were open to having with Joel.

"No, listen to me," he commanded, "D'you realize the situation you've put me in? You're the governor's daughter–  d'you think I haven't seen him on TV? Seen his ads, and the pamphlets, and all his 'family values' politics? But I had you all wrong… How was I s'posed to know this was how he treated his daughter?"

Joel shook his head in anger, gathering a stuttering breath, "You don't deserve that shit, no one does. You're good, I can tell– even when you put on that little act that makes me want to fuck the daylights outta ya."

You fought it with every fiber of your being, but you felt something inside you soften as your eyes moved to meet Joel’s, the corners of his mouth twitching into the beginnings of a smile.

“You were an asshole to me,” you told him, trying to save any of the resolve and anger you had left.

“I was, and ‘m sorry 'bout it, 'nd I wish I could take it all back,” he told you earnestly, “But your behavior wasn’t perfect either... next time you want to be my date to somethin', at least give me a chance to ask you first, princess.”

“Next time?” you questioned, and you couldn't help the raise of your eyebrows.

"Well, at the risk of soundin' like a kid still in high school– I like you, okay?" Joel confessed, and you felt a heat coat your cheeks.

Joel was right – this felt like high school.

"Are you asking me to go steady with you?"

You couldn't help it, you had to push at him, but the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth made it worth it. His laugh sounded like home, and you felt yourself slip under.

Again, and again.

"Not yet," he answered, taking a step in your direction. "I wanna get to know you first, take you on a date. There’s something special ‘bout ya, I’ve seen it.” He took another step.

"You do know me," you told him.

Joel shook his head, closing the distance, "I know a brat with your name, but I know she ain't the real you." A large palm cupped your cheek, making your eyelids flutter at the touch.

"Stop hidin' from me," he whispered.

Inside, you felt something crumble as a tear made a river down your cheek. You felt yourself frown at the feeling, surprised by your own reaction. Joel's thumb rubbed over it, catching it, catching you.

"I don't know how," you confessed. The words tasted acrid on your tongue, and as you let them settle another tear ran down your cheek. Once a tear had broken free, you couldn't stop them.

"Oh, sweetheart," he cooed, your tears wetting Joel's hand as he wiped at your cheeks.

"Please don't, Joel," you begged through a shuddering breath, "I don't want your sympathy."

"It ain't sympathy. I fuckin' care ‘bout you– there's a difference."

His words hit you in the chest, knocking the breath out of you. I fuckin' care 'bout you. No one had told you something like that before; no one had cared for you or about you before. More tears streamed down your face, and this time you couldn't hold back your sob. Joel's arms were around you in a second, pressing you tightly to his chest, as a comforting palm held the back of your head.

"I didn't know," you whispered into his chest, staining his t-shirt with your tears.

"I know," he whispered back, pressing a kiss to your temple, "It's okay, princess."

His lips were so soft against your skin, so gentle, and warm. Tilting your head back, you caught his eyes, watched the deep whiskey color seeping with warmth. Without thinking you leaned forward, brushing your lips over Joel's in a kiss, a first kiss.

What his lips would taste like, you'd daydreamed about before; mint-y, sugary sweet or deep like embers? Joel didn't taste like either, he tasted like Joel, like a comforting hug, like the ecstasy of an orgasm, like a home. When you pulled away, you kept your eyes shut, not wanting to let go of the feeling of him just yet.

"Listen…"

The deep bass of Joel's voice soothed your eyes open where they stared right into Joel's. His voice had sounded steady, but his eyes gave his worry away.

"At the wedding–" Joel's voice stalled.

His eyes rested at something behind you, dancing back and forth as he searched for his words. With a shake off his head he let go of your body, taking with him the soothing safety he exuded. Looking around your room for a moment his eyes settled on your bed. He looked so out of place in your room, your mattress giving way for him where he sat at the edge.

Joel let your words sit between you, as his teeth caught on his lip, chewing. "Do you…" Joel trailed off, before he drew a deep breath. "I need ya to be honest with me now, no more games–"

"Okay…" you breathed out, your heart drumming in your chest.

Joel chewed on his lip again, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown as he searched for his words. "What was all this to you? That night at the club I thought you were pullin' my leg– why in the hell did you approach me?"

This time your face scrunched in a frown, "Why are you asking me this?"

"Just humor me, please."

Taking a deep breath you grabbed the back of your vanity chair, turning it to face Joel before you sat down. "Well, if I'm gonna be honest…" you started, "I was just looking for someone to buy me a drink. You were sitting there all alone so I thought why not. I liked that you made me work for it, it was fun, and hot, and I really wanted you to fuck me."

It was hard to interpret Joel where he sat, nodding his head with his eyes glued to the floor as he listened to you speak. "Why?" he said, looking up and finding your gaze.

"Why?" you couldn't help but chuckle, "Are you serious right now? Have you looked at yourself in the mirror– looked at your dick?"

A shy smile coated his face, and you swore you saw the apples of his cheeks flush pink. "I've looked at myself in the mirror, princess, and I ain't as young as I used to be."

"Is this why you're asking? Because you're older than me?" you wanted to know.

"I'm askin' because I'm old enough to be your daddy." In his eyes you could see a glimmer of something like shame. It was contagious, snaking its way into your chest where it squeezed around your heart.

"Are you ashamed of me?" This time you needed him to be honest, but still, you couldn't help but feel a nervousness trickle through your body as you awaited his answer.

"No," he said quickly, "It ain't that…"

"What is it then?" You almost didn't want to ask, your head swimming with answers before he could utter them.

"I'm ashamed of myself," he confessed, you felt the words run ice cold down your back. "I get that everythin' is different now– with datin' 'nd all. Nothin' wrong with a one night stand… but I'm too old to be someone's fuckbuddy. I can't be that guy for you."

"I d-don't want you to," you rushed, surprising yourself as you stumbled over the words.

The corner of his mouth twitched, a small smile telling you he didn't believe you.

"Well, you tell me nothin'. The little persona you put on is fun for sex, but it ain't fun when it has repercussions in real life. When you showed up at the wedding… I panicked, okay? For you it's all fun 'n games, but for me that's my family. What was I s'posed to say if they saw you, huh? Tell 'em that's the girl I'm fuckin'? Pretty sure my daughter would have a fuckin' aneurysm."

Joel shook his head as a shaky breath sifted through him.

"I shouldn't have said all that shit to you– I shouldn't have used that tone, but I couldn't let it continue like that… I don't want casual with you– I ain't got the energy for that sorta thing. I wanna know where I stand, I don't wanna keep guessin' what you're thinkin'… I can take your attitude, but at least be forthright with me." Joel's eyes found his hands folded in his lap.

"Okay…” you hesitated for a moment, “I think I might be falling in love with you," you confessed. The words fell out of your mouth before you could think them through, and you let them. Somehow, you weren't afraid anymore. You'd already lost the people who were supposed to be closest to you, supposed to be your family. There was nothing else to lose, just Joel, just a love.

He looked up from his lap, "You think or you are?"

Your teeth came down on your lip, chewing at a loose piece of skin as your eyebrows pulled together in a frown. "I am… I think–" you tried, your finger pinching the bridge of your nose, "I've never been in love… I don't know."

The heat rising in your cheeks had you look away from him. Across from you Joel rose to his feet and closed the small distance between you. A heavy palm found your cheek, turning your face slowly.

"D'you wanna find out?" he smiled, the rough pad of his thumb skating softly over your cheek. Joel towered over you, but you didn't feel small… you felt protected. The realization had tears press behind your eyes.

"Heyheyhey," Joel cooed, while his other hand found your cheek, "It's okay."

Drawing a shaky breath, you told him, "It's not, Joel, I'm leaving– tonight." A tear broke loose as the words left your lips.

Joel's thumbs wiped at your tears before he crouched down between your legs with a groan, his knees popping loudly. "You don't need to do anythin', princess. Y'can stay at my place until you figure things out–"

You shook your head as more tears ran down your cheeks. "I'm moving back to California, I was only supposed to stay here for the summer," you told him, "I have one year left of my engineering degree at Berkeley, and I'm starting a new internship job on Monday."

"Oh," Joel let out. If he tried to hide his surprise, he did an awful job at it; it almost made a smile crack between your tears.

"You should check your face Joel,” you told him, your tone as light as you could manage it right now, “I know you're old, but in this millennia, girls can be engineers too," you tried to jest.

He let out an incredulous breath, before he let go of your face, "I know that– but California… it ain't exactly a short drive."

In your chest, you felt a twinge, "And you don't exactly text."

Joel fell silent at your words, head dipping forward, and you swore you could hear the cogs turning in his head. With a groan he stood to his feet, backing up to sit at your bed again.

"Look," he started, his eyes catching yours, "I wanna give this a go, if you wanna give this a go."

"I do," you hurried, and Joel nodded.

"You leavin' makes this a hell of a lot more complicated…" he sighed, "If we're gonna do this thing, I wanna do it right… take you on a date– treat you right."

"I'd like that," you smiled, and you knew it was the truth.

Dating had been a means to an end; free meals in the exchange for mediocre sex for a month or three (or however long it took you to die of boredom). Dating Joel would be different; it would be real. At the start of the summer, you hadn't realized how starved you'd been for something like this, how you'd filled up on emptiness all your life and mistaken it for love.

"I got 'nother job lined up startin' next week, but I should be able to take the weekend off in a month or so," Joel told you.

Inside your chest, you felt like you'd swallowed a bag of butterflies. "You wanna come visit me?" you asked, a genuine smile tugging at your lips.

"'f you'll have me, princess."

Rising from your chair, you crossed the space between you on eager feet, slotting between his spread legs. Cupping his cheeks in your hands, you let your thumb run over his beard, the thick bristles tickling your skin. His face softened in your hands, and inside you felt the wound torn open by Joel, start to close up.

There wasn’t a chance in hell you’d give up the opportunity of being with Joel, but there was one condition…

"Only if you promise to never treat me like that ever again. I'll stomp on your fucking balls– is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Joel said, a grin tugging at the side of his mouth.

Pleased, you climbed into his lap, locking your arms around his neck as you felt his large palms settle at your hips.

With your face only inches from his own, you commanded, "Say that again."

"Yes…" he grinned, his hands sliding lower to grip your ass, "Ma'am."

Pressing your lips against his, you felt something heavy fall off your heart. A weight so heavy if Joel's hands weren't on you, you'd float away. Joel licked into your mouth, deepening the kiss and exploring your mouth. Your fingers threaded through his hair, pressing him closer and closer to your body. You wished you could meld with him, become one, something strong and resilient.

When your hips started to grind against the hardening bulge in his pants, you mumbled against his lips. "One last time for the road?"

His laugh tasted sweet like honey, and you tried to lick up every sugary breath of it. His hands on your ass tightened as you rolled your hips again, his fingers making dents through the rough fabric of your jeans.

Pulling away, the sound of your wet lips smacked against the walls. Joel's grin looked infuriatingly cocky as he took in the state of you; your lips rawed and sticky with spit, and your eyes filled to the brim with lust.

"I ain't fuckin' you again until I've taken you on a date," he told you with a light smack against your ass.

"You can't be serious," you whined, head tilting as you pushed your lip out in a pout.

"Oh, I'm dead serious, princess. I'm gonna do this right, 'n that means you gotta be a good girl f'me 'n behave." Joel's voice dropped an octave as he whispered the last words in your ear, and a shiver ran down your back at the promise.

"But not too good," you told him, a smile coating your lips.

"No, I like you a little bratty."

"When does you flight land again?"

Propped up in bed, fluffy pillows soft against your back, you pressed your phone to your ear. A month had never passed as slowly as these past weeks. The new internship and settling into your new classes might've had something to do with it – you'd been overwhelmed with work – but the promise of Joel at the end of it had you longing.

"Five thirty– I already told ya yesterday, princess."

He did, right after he'd guided you towards a shaking orgasm just from his words. Joel had promised to text, but he was awful at it. You know he'd tried, replying to your texts sporadically throughout the day, but you'd quickly given up on anything substantial from him in that department. When he'd suggested a phone call before bed you'd grimaced at the thought, but hearing the deep bass through his drawl every night had you convinced without a fight – especially when you'd managed to tease him into spilling filth down the line.

"I know… but in my defense I was a little out of it," you reminded him.

Joel's chuckled, a deep rumbling laugh that dripped like honey in your ears. "Really? I couldn't tell," he teased.

"Shut up," you laughed.

"I don't think you want that," you could hear the grin coating his face.

He was right, you didn't want that. What you wanted was to talk to him all night, hear the static bass of his voice in your ear. It didn't matter what he said, what language he spoke, if the lilt was high or low, you just wanted to talk to him. But more importantly you wanted him in your bed – so you told him just that.

"What I want is: you here, in my bed, right now with your cock inside me," you pouted.

Your words pulled another laugh from Joel. "Well, then, you ought to be patient, princess."

"I'm very unfamiliar with that concept," you told him, a teasing lilt covering your words, "I'm used to getting what I want."

"Oh I know… but we ain't doin' this again, princess…" he told you, his voice dropping with sternness, "As a matter of fact, I don't want you touching yourself at all until I can get my hands on you. 's that clear?"

"Do you promise to punish me if I do?" you wondered, your teeth coming down to nibble on your bottom lip through a smile.

"I promise to keep my hands to myself and my pants buttoned for the whole weekend– does that sound like a nice punishment, brat?"

"Jesus christ," you sighed, "I guess I gotta be good until tomorrow, then."

"I'll make it up to you," he promised through a laugh.

"You better," you teased.

Pulling into the parking lot next to your apartment building, his words skipped around your brain. I'll make it up to you.

Now well into September, the days close to knocking on October's door, Joel had been a constant presence in your head ever since you’d left Austin. Your thoughts of him wandered away in your classes, conjuring him forth when you slipped a hand into your panties, and even filled up your dreams.

But the flimsy fantasy version of him was nothing compared to the solid form next to you. In the parking lot the sun slipped beneath the skyline and the golden orange light coming through your car windows kissed Joel's cheek, and bathed him in the last drops of the sun.

He was here, finally, his hand brushing against yours as you led him inside.

"It ain't how I pictured it," he spoke; the leather strap of his bag slipped from his shoulder.

You hadn't realized that you'd held your breath before it released at his words. It was like you'd been waiting for your bubble to burst, that he wasn't really here, forever a static voice speaking down your phone. But his voice was clear, and deep, and real; and Joel was flesh and blood standing beside you in your apartment. You didn't need to hold your breath anymore.

"How did you picture it?" you asked, genuinely curious as you led him deeper inside your apartment.

"I don't know…" he trailed off, his eyes darting through your space, "Bigger, maybe?"

You hummed, following his eyes as he took in your space – the furniture you'd picked out special, and the art you hadn't had time to hang yet – it was a one-bedroom, but it was enough for you. The previous year you'd lived with roommates in a fancier apartment closer to campus. Socially it was great living with your classmates, but they were all boys, and at one point when the apartment looked especially dirty, you'd considered hiring a housekeeper. But the downsides weighed lightly against the upsides, and you’d never felt lonely, not like you'd done home in Austin.

"I don't want that anymore… there's nothing lonelier than a big house." The words settled between you, a comfortable silence while you tried not to think about what Joel was thinking, as you felt his gaze burn at your cheek.

“Come here,” he said, slipping an arm over your shoulders, tucking you close to his chest. “Let’me look at ya.”

The rough pads of his fingers pushed at your jaw, tilting your head to look at him. A soft smile blossomed over his face, his eyes deepening with a soothing warmth.

"You see something?" you asked, your eyes flicking to his lips.

"You ain't lonely anymore," he told you before he leaned closer in a kiss.

The brush of his lips had your eyes fluttering shut, and the press of his lips against yours awakened a burning pit in your tummy – the flames licking at your insides and igniting your want. The words he’d promised you over the phone played like a broken record in the back of your mind.

I'll make it up to you.

Clawing at the hair at the nape of his neck, your desperate hand pulled him closer, eager to fill your tank up on Joel.

“Bedroom,” you mumbled, the word fanned against his lips, "It's been so long and I deserve it– I've worked all fucking week."

"Deserve it, huh?" he hummed, pulling away to catch your blown out and moony eyes.

"Yes, Joel," you whined, pressing your lips against his again. But Joel wouldn't have it, letting you get one good kiss in before he pulled away again, eliciting a pouty whine from your throat.

"Patience," he told you, teasing smile hanging off his mouth while the hand splayed across the side of your face tightened. "I already told ya, I ain't fuckin' you until you've taken me out."

Letting out an petulant huff, you stepped away, crossing your arms over your chest. "So, now I'm taking you on a date?" you asked with the raise of an eyebrow.

A smile tugged at his lips as he regarded you, a teasing glint in his eye. Hooking an arm around your waist, he pulled you closer, "Yes, you ought to wine and dine this old man after a long day of travel."

"Well you could've told me earlier," you moaned, leaning back in his embrace with drama, your arms still wrapped around yourself as you looked at him through your lashes. "All the good restaurants are probably full at this hour…" you trailed off, "let's just get take-out," you said, pleased at your work-around.

His other hand joined the other on your waist, "Nah-uh, princess, ain't a real date until we're eatin' out."

Raising an eyebrow at him, the innuendo wasn't lost on you. With a knowing shake of your head, you told him, "No, you just want me to beg."

Joel's eyes narrowed playfully at you, his head tilting in a playful scrutinized way, "Well, you beg so pretty f'me."

This time you were the one to narrow your eyes at him, your face scrunched together in the slightest frown. Staring at him like that, you tried to break him down, but Joel was used to your antics, and he didn't break.

Letting out another fussy huff, you said, "So… if I take you out to eat, you'll fuck me after?"

"If the foods good," he teased, one hand sliding down to squeeze your ass.

He was insufferable, you thought through a sigh, rolling your eyes at him as you slipped from his grip.

"Come on then, old man."

After a change of clothes and a visit to the bathroom to freshen up, you pondered over your usual 'rule': You didn't fuck on the first date. Sure, you weren't a stranger to a one night stand after a night out, but if a man were to take you out, you wanted to at least give it a shot before you gave it all up.

"Usually, I never fuck on the first date," you told him as the elevator hummed around you. Joel's hand rested comfortably at your lower back, and you found that you liked it– liked his casual show of affection. You didn't know why you said it. Maybe as a last resort to convince him to click the button to your floor and take you back up to your bed?

Joel didn't look at you as a smile that gave nothing away spread across his face. His response was cut off by the elevator dinging, and with his hand at your back he guided you out the elevator.

"Well, too bad for you then, princess," he hummed teasingly in your ear, which earned him a playful shove before you led him down the street.

Blitzes of red, green, and blue danced over Joel's face, the bright neon light tugging at his features in playful shadows. Overhead, the sky had darkened with night over the parking lot. It was empty, safe for the food truck parked by the entrance.

Before you'd moved back home to Austin for the summer, you'd been apartment hunting in this area. It was by sheer luck you'd found it, so close to your internship job with only a couple of blocks away. And when the sun hung high in the sky, this parking lot filled with hungry office workers eager for a well made burrito or taco. You knew because you liked to watch them from up high, the building where you did your internship giving you the perfect view of the small ants. Sometimes one of those ants was you.

The tired wood of the picnic table felt rough against your skin and it wobbled slightly if either of you put too much weight on it. In the background the truck generator hummed away between your bites, but somehow this felt perfect.

"How's your taco?" you asked, a smile hanging off your lips as you broke the comfortable silence that had settled between you and Joel.

"God damn good," Joel nodded, taking another bite.

"Right?" you smiled, a proud warmth settled in your chest. "Looks like I'm getting my dick wet later," you teased.

The laugh that rumbled out of Joel's chest, bubbled up inside you, feeding you more than the tacos. It almost took you by surprise, the feelings he'd conjured forth inside you, stronger now in his presence. Maybe all those #1 hits, and romcoms were right after all?

"We'll see," he winked.

Gulping down his second taco, Joel wiped his hand on a napkin before he wrapped a hand around his beer bottle. He watched you with a smile, how you tried your best to bite into your own taco without everything falling out.

"Too big f'you, princess?" he teased, "Shouldn't be a problem f'you, huh? You've taken bigger than that."

"Ah!" you exclaimed, mouth too full to say anything else. Kicking your foot under the table, you hit his shin lightly in a reprimand.

Joel only laughed it off, before taking a swig of his beer.

“That’s it,” he said, his eyes falling on you playfully, “Good girl.”

You couldn't hold back from letting out something between a snort and a sound. It resulted in an unceremonious amount of salsa to drip out of your mouth and onto the plate, which only made Joel laugh harder as you struggled to swallow down the huge bite of taco.

When you finally managed, you gave Joel a half-pointed, half-amused look, “Asshole.”

“You love it, sweetheart,” he said through a chuckle, and somehow the light words hit a little harder than you'd thought. Could you love Joel? Maybe you already did.

Shaking your head, you tried to rid yourself of your new discovery. “Don't be a brat Joel,” you said in a sing-songy voice, trying to hide your growing smile behind another bite out of your taco.

Joel chuckled again at the inside joke, and a sense of pride grew in your chest. “That a threat, baby?” he returned, raising a single eyebrow as he regarded you.

You gave him a nonchalant shrug as you swallowed down your taco. “Just a warning,” you told him simply, and now Joel’s lips curved into a smirk.

“A warning, huh?” he repeated as his eyes ran down the length of you and back up. He took his time, making sure you felt his gaze over your skin before he uncrossed his arms and leaned towards you over the table, “Thought I was the only one handin' out warnings ‘round here.”

“Roles can change,” you replied simply, your own smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. Joel crossed his arms under himself this time, still leaning on the table as he considered you, twinkle in his eye.

“Yeah?" he tsk-ed, "Y'gonna give me a run for my money, princess?” he asked after a second, his voice a fraction deeper than it was before.

“Shouldn't be too hard,” you told him with your sweetest smile.

Joel only looked at you as a smile tugged at the side of his mouth. The dark brown of his eyes coaxed you deeper, drew you in, like a magnetic force pulled you across the table.

God, you wanted him.

It was an almost overwhelming thought, Joel was too overwhelming. To settle your brain, your cleared your throat, looking away first.

“You, uh–… you want any dessert?” you asked, trying not to act flustered, "Their churros are really good."

“Y’haven’t even finished your taco, princess,” he pointed out with an amused lilt to his voice.

Right.

Continuing your act, you snorted as you picked up your last taco. “I meant after, obviously.” The smile on Joel's face had a hot flush of warmth climb up your neck to your cheeks.

“‘m alright f’now I think,” he said with a nod towards his plate, where he had one last taco left.

As you and Joel ate your last tacos, he told you about the lady he'd been sat next to on the flight. A real southern lady, he told you, "like sittin' next to the mouth of the south." The genuine tiredness in his voice as he talked about it, had a cooing laugh escape you, and you reached out your arm across the table to slot it in his.

When both of you were full and satisfied with tacos, Joel cleaned up your plates while you fished a cigarette from your purse. You offered one to him as he sat down, to which he shook his head, "You know those'll kill ya."

Tilting your head, you rolled your eyes at him with a smile, "I know."

Joel watched you light your cigarette, the flame brightening your face for a split second, before he spoke up, "I've been meaning to ask ya…"

"Hm?" you looked at him, inhaling the first tar-y breath and exhaling away from him through the side of your mouth.

"How'd everythin' go with your…" he hesitated, "Uh, your father."

Joel watched how your face changed at the mention of him, how you looked away from him like the words had stung you.

"I ain't gonna say I wasn't eavesdroppin' on y'all's conversation," he confessed.

Drawing a deep breath, you flicked the ash into your empty beer bottle. "It went like it always does," you shrugged, "He threatened me some more, and then I threatened him back. He's more concerned about his reputation than me, so I told him I'd post the truth about him if he disinherited me… shut him up real quick."

"I'm sorry, baby," Joel said with a shake of his head, "That ain't how you're s'posed to treat your kids."

"Well," you shrugged, taking another drag. "I'm used to it," you exhaled.

A silence settled between you, the only sound the sizzling burn of your cigarette as you took another drag, and the quiet humming of the truck generator. His words settled in your chest, and a curiosity you'd previously strangled resurfaced. Joel had a daughter.

"Was it hard, um…" you struggled to find the right words, pinching your eyebrows together as you searched. Joel leaned his elbows on the table, tipping it towards him, listening intently. "For your, uh, daughter when you got divorced?"

"Divorced?" he questioned, bushy brows pulling together in a confused frown. A second passed as he searched your face for answers. "Oh, right," he chuckled, his face smoothing out as he sat back, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "I was never married to Sarah's mom– I've never been married, baby."

"What?" Now you were confused, sporting the same frown he had, "But you said–"

"Yeah, I know," he cut you off, "But technically you put the words in my mouth, 'nd I didn't know where all this–" he pointed between you, "–was headin' so I… I just let you believe it."

"Oh."  

“Sorry,” Joel said after a second as he processed your answer, “Probably should've said somethin' but–”

“No,” you said, shaking your head, “I didn’t really ask, did I? Just assumed.”

Another silence fell over the two of you while you inhaled another breath of smoke. Joel watched you, studied you as he gulped down the last of his beer. Placing the bottle gently down against the wood, Joel continued.

“So no… Never got married, and never got divorced.”

“What happened?” you asked him gently, not sure if he wanted you to ask or not, “With Sarah’s mom?”

Joel looked down at his lap for a second, like the answer laid in his lap before he looked up with a shrug. “There ain’t much to tell, honestly… high school sweethearts, just a couple of stupid kids who made a stupid mistake.”

“But you kept the baby?”

“Yeah,” Joel said through a sigh, “We live in Texas darlin’, and back then it… it just wasn't an option for us.”

Joel shook his head, before he cleared his throat. “Anyway, we convinced ourselves we’d set up our own little family, neither of us would go off to college and we’d just work… I got a carpenter job, she waited tables– it was a total fantasy in hindsight, of course, but we didn’t know it then.”

You listened intently as Joel opened up, and noticed how he avoided your eyes. He played it cool, but you could clearly see from his body language, that this wasn't a topic he spoke about often. The realization felt disjointed, a happiness inside you at being trusted by Joel dulled by the pain hidden behind his words.

“Pregnancy was fine, even the job was goin' okay, but as soon as Sarah was born it all went to shit… we had no idea what we were in for and it was hard. We were overworked, broke, exhausted and covered in poop and puke, it wasn’t pretty.”

“Wow, you make parenthood seem like such a joy,” you told him sarcastically, trying to draw a smile across his face, but Joel only snorted.

“Whoever sells that lie should go to jail,” he said with a scoff, “Let me tell you– there ain’t nothin' harder in this world than raisin’ a child.”

This time you had to look away from Joel, the words tugging at something in your own heart; that wound that never closed. Was that why he hated you so badly? Why she didn’t want to see you? That couldn't be right, they never even tried. But you remembered those who did, the revolving doors of all the nannies who'd held you when you'd cried, blew on your knees when you scraped them, played with you in the tree house, and tucked you into bed. You were half-way through your twenties now, it was time to grow your old wounds – it was time to finally let go.

“It was too hard for her, I guess… one afternoon I came home from work and she’d packed all her bags, left Sarah in her high chair with a note– 'I'm sorry' it said. I never heard from her again, but her parents told me she’s livin’ up in Seattle now. They didn’t hear from her for a while either– almost had the police involved…”

Stumping out your cigarette, you reached across the table for his hand, “What did you do?”

“I was angry first, called her 'bout a million times 'nd got an out-of-service message, which meant she’d dumped her phone already… when it sunk in I wasn’t going to see her again I was scared shitless… here I was, barely twenty years old with a six-month old baby and no freaking idea what I was doin', and the one person I was s’posed to be doing it with had just disappeared into thin air,” Joel explained, before he let out a sigh, “Poor girl probably had some kind of postpartum depression, but we were so overwhelmed with the baby we could barely keep our lives together– 'nd I was so preoccupied with Sarah I never really addressed it… in hindsight, I feel like I failed her, y’know? I should’ve noticed, paid more attention to what she needed… I never wanted to fail my family ever again.”

"So you raised your kid.”

Joel gave you a nod, as he pursed his lips together. “I raised my kid… 'nd Tommy helped me a lot. He was just a kid, 'nd he didn't have to do it, but he moved in– watched Sarah while I was at work up until he joined the army 'nd I could afford a sitter…" Joel trailed off, his eyebrows knitting together as his breath stalled in his throat.

"I remember one night…" he started, "Sarah screamed so loud, kept on cryin' 'n cryin', and I couldn't figure out what she wanted. I'd walked around the whole house, carried her for hours until it felt like my arms were gonna fall off. It would be so easy to just give up right then 'nd there… but as I looked at her, at my perfect little baby I promised myself that I'd never make the same mistake again as I had with her mother– I'd always put my babygirl first no matter what…”

Joel let out a sigh as his eyes finally caught yours.

“I guess that’s why I was so mean with you, when you showed up at the wedding. This is my family, y’know? They mean the world to me, always been my priority, always will be… I didn’t want the decisions that I had made to affect them,” he sat up a little straighter, squeezing your hand before he looked at you intently, “I realize now that wasn’t fair to you either, so ’m sorry ‘bout that–”

You shook your head, biting down on the underside of your lip as you fought the tears that pressed at the back of your eyes. Never in your life had something so rudimentary as family mattered in your life. Family to you was something to escape, a randomized lottery that assigned you to people you had nothing in common with. Not once had it occurred to you that your actions could have had consequences for Joel's relationship with his family – and never did it occur to you that those relationships mattered.

“No, I’m sorry,” you told him, with an embarrassed shake of your head, “When I showed up at that wedding… I– I was only thinking of me and what I wanted, not about any consequences it could have for you… I guess I’m not really used to the idea of thinking about what or who matters to others… especially family.”

The last word died on your tongue as your eyes found your lap. The weight of what you'd said, penetrated through your heart, made you hear it for the first time. Across from you, Joel was silent for a long time as you sat with your confession, digesting it at your own pace.

"I know…" Joel suddenly said with a squeeze of your hand, "I forgive you."

His words had a finality to them you found hard to believe. There was no bite of anger, or falseness hidden behind sincerity, only the truth.

"I forgave you weeks ago, baby, after…” He let the words die on his tongue but you knew what he meant – after he’d seen you with your father. “Let's leave it in the past, ‘nd focus on enjoyin’ these days together.”

Joel didn't give you an opportunity to reply before he stood to his feet, reaching out a large palm for you to hold. Slotting your hand in his, he guided you past the food truck and out onto the street, holding your hand the whole way home.

"I didn't know you wore glasses," you said softly, leaning against the doorframe to your bedroom.

Joel was already under your covers, propped up against the headboard where he scrolled on his phone. He didn't look up right away, so you took your time to study him as you walked closer with slow steps. One graying curl hung over his forehead, his head tipped slightly forward as he tapped with one finger. His tanned exposed skin looked soft like silk, and you wanted to trace your fingers down the graying thatch of hair speckled down his chest.

At the sound of a quiet wosh! he finally looked up from his phone.

His glasses sat low on his nose where behind the glass his eyes rolled over you, and the brand new set of lingerie adorning your body. The transparent mesh was the perfect shade of green, one that complimented your skin so well it might as well have been made specifically for you. The bra was simple with embroidered flowers weaved through the mesh. The same embroidered flowers adorned the thong, barely concealing your mound. Usually, you wouldn't go for something like this, it wasn't your style– too cute, but there was something about it that made you feel so sexy. Maybe it was the mesh, the way the thin string of the thong split your cheeks in two, or maybe it was the small bow at the back.

You knew you looked hot, but you hoped Joel would like it anyway, you’d bought it just for him. 

Joel placed his phone slowly on your night stand, a wide grin spreading across his face. Then he leaned forward slightly, scrunching his face together in a playful squint, "So, this is whatcha look like!?"

You couldn't contain the giggle slipping through your teeth. Joel's smile hung loose, and he leaned back casually, silently inviting you into his lap.

"I like them… You look hot in them," you told him, climbing up in his lap.

"I use 'em only for readin'," he explained, taking in the sight of you before him with wandering hands.

His rough palms over your skin left goosebumps in their wake. You let him touch you, let him familiarize himself with the fabric as you leaned forward and slipped the glasses off his nose.

"You're somethin' else aren't you, princess?" The low timber in his voice had a wetness soil your panties.

"Do you like it, Daddy?" you wondered breathlessly as one of his fingers slipped through the thin band of your thong where it traced the skin underneath. "I missed your birthday… but I hope this makes up for it?" you asked, a lilt of innocence coating your words as you rocked your hips against his.

Joel's smile sat wide and toothy on his face; forming small creases around his eyes. Under you, you felt his hardening cock grow. You couldn't help but rock your hips again, chasing the feeling of him after waiting so long – you needed him now.

"Y'look real pretty, princess… so beautiful– how'd I get so lucky, huh?"

One large palm cupped your cheek and brought you closer to his face. His lips tasted fresh and mint-y when he brushed them over yours in a soft kiss. Under your skin your body buzzed with anticipation. His kiss was short; leaving you wanting more, always wanting more.

"Too bad you don't fuck on the first date," he teased, leaning back and letting his hands fall to your ass where they landed with a playful smack!

Jumping slightly from the impact, a breathy whine escaped your throat, "I can make an exception."

"Really?" he grinned, raising a single eyebrow at you, "Just f'me?"

Pushing out your lip, you gave him an impatient pout. "You promised you'd make it up to me if I didn't touch myself…" you moaned, "And I didn't."

Joel tilted his head in feigned sympathy; his hands on your ass drawing soft circles into the skin. "That's sweet, princess," he hummed before he let out a forced sigh, "I did promise ya, didn't I?"

"Yes," you nodded with a rock of your hips against his hard cock.

"Alright then," Joel said, his fingers finding the bow at the back of your thong, "Let me make it up to ya."

The silk bow keeping the thin strings of your thong together dwindled into scraps with one tug from Joel. Something drew your closer, like something bright and loud inside your chest clawed out for him. This time it would be for real – no more act to play, and no more hiding. The thought bubbled with nerves in your throat.

After discarding your thong in the bed sheets to get lost, Joel's hands cradled your face, bringing you closer. The crook of his nose grazed gently against yours before he pressed his lips against yours. 

You let yourself be explored by him, savoring the way his tongue tasted in your mouth, how he took the lead like it was the most natural thing in the world. Inside, you felt like you were about to burst; so many pent up feelings finally breaking free from his kiss. You couldn't help but grind against him; the fluffed duvet in the way of any real friction the way you wanted it, but you craved him either way.

"I know, baby," he hummed against your lips, "That pussy's aching f'me ain't it?"

"Yes," you breathed through a whine, "Please, Joel."

"Alright, princess," he soothed, "So polite for once, huh?"

"Yeah, you better savor it," you teased against him, "Because it's not happening again."

With a breathy chuckle, he pulled away to tap at the thick of your thigh. Twisting your eyebrows together in a confused frown you got off his lap. Between your legs you felt your arousal stick wetly against your inner thighs as you sat back on your knees beside him. Joel pushed the duvet away before he shuffled down the bed, exposing his body, before he laid his head down on the pillows.

"C'mon then," he waved his hand at your expectantly. "Let me take care of ya."

Not moving, your frown grew deeper at his words while your hands collected like a nervous tick in your lap.

"Sit on my face, baby, let me taste that sweet pussy."

Sit on Joel's face?

Your teeth came down to nibble on your bottom lip, as a small shiver of insecurity raced up your back. It’s not supposed to look like that, is it? It’s not supposed to look like that, is it? It’s not supposed to look like that, is it? You shifted on your knees unsteadily, the mattress dipping you forward where his body weighed it down.

You couldn't look at him, so your eyes found your hands in you lap. Why did you need to go through this again? What was his obsession with it exactly? To see you humiliated? And not in the fun way.

"Hey… you okay?" Joel asked, his tone low and soft. He sat up on his elbow, his body turned curiously towards you.

The way he looked at you, his eyes dark and warm and full of… something, had your cheeks filling with a blazing heat. Shaking your head, you tried to will the embarrassment away. You didn't want him to see you like that– it wasn't supposed to be like this, not this time.

"Yes." You pulled yourself together, lips tugging at a teasing smile you hoped would put Joel at ease.

Leaning forward – making sure to push your ass out and arch your back for him – you tugged at the waistband of his underwear where you could peek the outline of his hard cock straining against the cotton. Before you could pull them down, Joel's hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you. Tilting your head curiously towards him, you could see a smirk coat his face.

"'s that whatcha want?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, and you nodded. "Greedy girl," he tsk-ed through his grin.

His strong hands were around your waist before you had time to think, manhandling your legs over his chest, exposing you and your wet center to his waiting mouth. A panic gripped your heart then, and you sat up with haste, slipping off his body.

"Don't do that, Joel," you let out, your tone laced with an unintended annoyance.

A frown pulled at his eyebrows as he sat up; his eyes bounced over your body and then your face.

"Red?" he asked, concern spilling across his face.

A sigh fell from your lips as a hand came up to rub at your face. When you didn't say anything right away, his hand caught your own, pulling it away while his other soothing palm found your cheek.

"Red?" he asked again, a little sterner – demanding an answer.

You shook your head in his hand, the words on your tongue failing you.

"What is it then, princess?"

The tenderness in his voice almost broke you down, hacking at the crumbling wall shielding you from him. Joel cared about you. He'd told you that, came all this way to make it crystal clear. So why couldn't you let him?

"Do you wanna get your dick sucked or what?"

Shaking off his palm you could feel ashamed later for slipping into your outdated disguise. This was how the sex with Joel was supposed to go – how it always went. But Joel wouldn't have it.

"Well, now I'm sayin' it– Red."

Inside, your heart sunk like a stone in water, and before you knew it you felt tears fight their way forward. You'd ruined it– your perfect day with Joel was ruined. Cautiously finding his face, you expected Joel to be angry, but the tenderness in his eyes as he looked at you hit you like a sucker punch.

"Let's stop for a minute, baby. Clearly there's somethin' botherin' you. I knew I saw it last time– what's goin' on?" he wanted to know. "Tell me," he grabbed your hand, slotting your fingers together as he held your gaze with an intensity that burned. "'n no more hidin', remember?"

No more hiding.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you managed to push back your tears as a stuttering sigh escaped you.

Okay.

Opening your eyes slowly, you gathered your courage. "I feel like I'm ruining everything," you confessed, your voice breaking a little as you told him the truth.

"That ain't true," Joel frowned, "'f you don't want this anymore, we can stop–"

"I don't want to stop," you cut him off, "I want this– you so badly! I've been thinking about it all day– all month long, b-but I…" you stuttered.

"But you don't like oral?" Joel finished for you, his frown deepening in confusion.

You shook your head, "I– um… no, not really."

Joel was silent for a second, eyes boring into you as you tried to avoid his gaze.

This was embarrassing.

“There a specific reason f’that, pretty girl?” he asked you as his hand holding yours tightened just a little while dipping his head to meet your eyes.

Your cheeks burned furiously as you looked at Joel, trying for a nonchalant shrug. “I-It just–… it doesn’t feel good.”

At that, Joel raised a single eyebrow in surprise, considering you.

“It doesn’t feel good?” he repeated, "I seem to remember you enjoyin' yourself last time…" You watched how a frown pulled at his face, his own words sinking in and replacing them with a sliver of doubt. "Or am I wrong?"

This time, Joel was the one who wouldn't meet your gaze, acting surprisingly bashful. Quickly, you shook your head, "No."

Joel's face twisted into a sad smile, and the way he looked at you told you he didn't believe you. "Y'can be honest with me. If I did somethin' you didn't like– you gotta tell me."

"It wasn't you who did it," you muttered, voice low like a whisper, the only way the words could leave your lips.

"You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," Joel let out in an exasperated sigh, his tone backed up by anger. Squeezing your hand again, he demanded your attention. "Who did then? Tell me, baby– some twenty-somethin’ asshole say something he shouldn’t have?”

Your eyes widened slightly at his words, surprised that he wasn’t even that far off, and the memories pushed their way forward. It’s not supposed to look like that, is it? His mocking laugh echoed in your head. The way he'd licked your mound with a scrunch of his nose as you'd wished you could've sunk through the bed.

Even though you hadn’t uttered a word, Joel had read your expression telling him he'd hit the nail on the head, and now his brows knitted into a frown.

“Baby,” he told you, his voice so tender it made your head spin. One of his hands let go of your palm, bringing his fingers up to graze the pads softly over the edge of your jaw. “We’ll do whatever you want, it’s your choice… but I wantcha to know that I think you've got the prettiest fuckin' pussy I’ve ever seen– the sweetest tastin' too.”

Dropping your head, you squeezed your eyes shut. Joel's hand slid from your jaw to cover the side of your face, the palm covering your ear and half the world disappeared. You were silent for a second, before you took a small breath.

“You mean that?”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, princess,” he told you, tilting your head up to meet his eyes, “m’not lying either, you know… it’s the only fucking thing I can think about, only thing I wanna see when I’m fucking ya– wanna see just how good she looks wrapped 'round me.”

You couldn't fight the smile from breaking, your eyelashes fluttering bashfully as you turned your head. "You can't just say that… this is supposed to be a tender moment."

Joel's laugh rumbled through his chest. "I'm a contractor, princess, I ain't no poet. I dunno how to wax poetic 'bout your pussy."

"I don't need you to do that," you told him through a laugh, turning your head back to look at him.

"Good," he smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

He studied you for a beat, before he leaned back against the pillows with an inviting raised arm. "C'mon. Let's get some sleep, baby."

“Sleep?” you asked him, the disappointment evident in your tone, “But, I–… I haven’t even sucked your cock.”

“Y’gonna let me eat you out?” Joel returned, and you crinkled your nose.

“Joel,” you whined, dragging out the vowels as your hands covered your face. A small laugh escaped Joel, and quickly his hands came up to gently pry yours away.

“Baby, I don’t wantcha doin' anythin' that makes you uncomfortable, but I also wanna make you feel good,” he told you, “I don’t believe in one-sided exchanges, and if m’honest, the only thing I can think about right now is buryin' my head between those pretty thighs and makin' you scream my name for the next five hours.”

The casual confidence in his voice sent a shudder down your spine where it pooled between your thighs. He did make you come last time, you remembered, and it had felt really really good. Still, that old insecurity at the back of your neck clung to you like a poltergeist. After a second of silence, watching the conflict on your face, Joel drew a deciding breath.

“Tell you what baby,” he said as you felt his hands gently grab at your waist and pull you towards him, “Think I know a way we can both get what we want.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked grudgingly, “What’s that, hm?”

Joel leaned forward and slotted his lips against yours gently, pulling you deeper into a sense of safety. After a second he pulled back, teeth trapping your bottom lip.

“You still have to sit on m'face,” Joel told you with a smirk, “But I’ll level with ya princess, you can do whatchu want, and I’ll make sure to keep ya distracted… promise.”

A beat passed as you let his proposal settle between you. A thought of how you could always say your safeword if you absolutely hated it crossed your mind. He'd established it so early in your relationship, set the boundaries between you clearly and you knew Joel would never force you to do anything you didn't want to do.

Drawing a deep breath through your nose, you let out a breathy, "Okay."

Joel's smile brightened before he leaned closer to press another gentle kiss to your lips, "Attagirl."

Turning you around, Joel helped you swing your leg over his broad chest where his palms settled over your hips. Maneuvering your hips backwards he positioned your exposed cunt to his face.

Afraid to put your whole weight on him, you hovered, your knees digging deeply into the mattress on either side of his head. As reassuring as Joel had been, being this exposed still made you nervous, and you couldn't help the way your body tensed up. Trying to distract yourself from what Joel thought about you, you focused on your distraction; Joel's straining cock hidden away behind the woven cotton of his underwear.

Pulling at the elastic band, you slowly revealed the length of him inch by inch. A pleased smile tugged at your lips as you took him in your hand; his thigh reacting in a twitch at your touch. He still had the prettiest cock you'd ever seen, veiny and thick, and perfectly heavy in your hand. Leaning down, you pressed a light kiss to the skin right above the base; the dark and silver wiry hair tickled your skin as you inhaled the masculine musk of him – of Joel, your Joel.

Joel's greedy fingers dug deliciously into your skin, as his dominant hand glided up your back, pushing you to lay your weight on him. You couldn't see what he was doing, only feel the hot breath of him so close to the core of you.

"She looks so pretty drippin' f'me," his voice rasped, placing a fluttering kiss through your folds, "'n she tastes even better."

You couldn't help the stuttering breath that escaped you, your eyes squeezing shut as Joel licked a stripe from your clit to your hole, tasting you unabashedly with a content hum. His fingers dug deeper into your skin as you whined, holding you firmly against his mouth to keep you from squirming away.

Focusing back at your task at hand, you tightened your fist around his cock, gathering a blob of spit in your mouth and let it slowly drip down the length of him. You watched your spit run over your knuckles before you started to work your hand up and down his length, thumbing over the head to mix your spit with the precum sprouting from the tip as you wet his cock with slick squelching tugs. Against your stomach, you could feel his chest vibrate in a content hum.

Kneading your ass cheeks firmly, Joel spread you apart for him before you felt him spit harshly against your cunt. The spit ran down your folds, gathering at the flat of his tongue where he circled it around your clit. You tensed at the contact, your face pulling together in the slightest of frowns of pleasure.

"Shit," you let out in a breath.

Pleased at the reaction he'd pulled from you, Joel hummed against your cunt, wet and spread open for him to devour. "Yeah? That feel good, princess?"

"Uh-huh," you moaned, your hand stilled at the base of his cock, as he traced circles around your clit with his tongue.

Cocking his hips, Joel reminded you of your neglected job. Pulling yourself together, you tightened your fist around him again. Mesmerized, you lowered your head and dropped open your mouth, slapping the wet length of him against your waiting tongue. Pleased, you hummed at the first salty taste of him, the familiar heaviness of him in your mouth. Enveloping him in your mouth, you closed your lips around the mushroom tip to tease the head with your circling tongue, making him twitch in your mouth at the new stimulation.

The way his mouth had latched around your clit, sucking and flicking it expertly, made it hard to concentrate. So much was happening all at the same time, his tongue devouring you, urging you towards a long awaited orgasm, but judging from the way he started to buck his hips into your mouth, you figured the same thing was happening to him.

Trying your best to keep your focus, you started to bop your head. Relaxing your throat, this new angle made it easier to take the hefty length of him down your throat, and you found that you liked it. Pushing your head deeper, you gagged yourself on him, loving the feeling of how he filled up your throat with each bop of your head.

On his tongue your clit pulsed with need, and you found yourself moaning around his cock, making Joel's hips buck from the vibrations in your throat. Joel ate your pussy greedily, drinking up every whimper and moan your body produced as he coaxed you closer and closer with just his tongue.

You couldn't stay still, even with Joel's fingers digging harshly into the flesh of your ass, branding you as his. With your head clouded in lust, you didn't realize you started to push back against his tongue, chasing the high of the swipes and zigzags of his tongue through your soaked folds. "Feels so fucking good," you mumbled, lips pressed to the side of his cock while your head was clouded in cotton candy bliss.

Choking yourself on his cock again, you pulled yourself under the blanket of tranquil arousal, your head filled with nothing except the way Joel took care of you, and how good his cock felt in your throat. Your desperate hands found his heavy balls, cupping them gently before you rolled them in your hands, earning you a deep rumbling groan.

"That's it– play with my balls, baby– good girl," he moaned into your pussy.

His praise settled in your tummy like a warm cup of tea on a cold day. The wet breath of him against your throbbing clit was almost too much to take, and now you started to grind against this face, fucking yourself against his tongue as you chased your high that just continued to build, and build, and build. His rough hands on your ass guided your movements, and when your thighs started to tense with arrhythmic shakes, he latched onto your clit and sucked.

"Come on baby… that's it– good girl," he hummed, "Come f'me, princess."

Pulling off his cock with a wet pop, your head came to rest over the thick of his thigh as your body started to shake and wither with your orgasm. You felt him grunt against your cunt, his tongue never ceasing to assault your aching clit. He lapped greedily at you, tasting each drop of your blinding ecstasy. His cock sat heavy in your hand, small wet whimpers puffing against the wet skin of him as you rode out your high.

In your chest, you could feel your heart grow larger, bursting out of your chest for Joel, like it reached its hand out to intertwine it with his.  

When the tension in your body let go of you and your grinding hips faltered, you sat up slowly, sliding down his chest on shaking legs as you beared your weight on his thick thighs. His hefty cock laid heavy and throbbing against his stomach, smeared and glistening in your saliva. With a curious tilt of your head, you wrapped your hand around him, his hips bucking as you jerked him slowly.

"Fuck," he spat.

Looking over your shoulder, Joel looked a mess coated in your arousal. The coarse salt and pepper hair of his beard glistened in the dimmed light as he turned his head to the side, pushing it deeper into the pillow while you teasingly skated your fingers down the length of him. His moan vibrated through his chest, and a smile followed a pleased prickling feeling of pride in your chest – pluming yourself at having a man like him at your mercy, your eyes found his cock again.

In your hand you felt him throb; the thick vein down the underside of him protruded with need. His hands found the thick of your thighs, palms spreading over your skin like an afterthought before they settled at your hips. Leaning down, you longed to feel him fill up your throat again – finding you liked this new angle.

Placing a pouty kiss to the head, you licked at the pearling precum. Did it always taste this good, or was there just something so obsessively special about Joel? Humming contently, you hollowed your cheeks around the head, before you dropped your jaw to slowly ease him back down your throat.

Joel's hands on you tightened like he was holding on for dear life, as another pleasurable moan fell from his lips. 

"Shit– you love that cock don't cha– love sucking cock like a good whore."

His words had you whimpering around him – he was right after all, you loved sucking his cock. You wished you could see him, see the way his eyes squeezed shut as you took him deeper. A rush of arousal pooled in your tummy at the thought, ready to gush over the greying hair scattered over his chest.

Starting up a bopping rhythm again, an obscene gagging squelch escaped your throat at every bop, filling your bedroom with filth. Joel's mouth wasn't any better, rambling degrading praise that only urged you on. When your hands found his balls, slicked up with your runaway spit, his fingers dug harshly into your ass cheeks.

"Stop, baby… I'm so fuckin' close."

Pulling away, you dropped your head to his thighs, laying down gently with your hand still wrapped around him at the base. Tightening your grip around him, Joel's breath stalled in his chest, and you couldn't help but place a soft kiss down the length of him.

"Baby," he said sternly, and a bubbling laugh escaped your lips.

Loosening your grip, his cock slapped against his skin where the head wept onto the skin below his belly button. His hands on your ass pushed at you, and you slid your body off him, your thighs sticking together wetly as you sat back on your knees beside him.

Sitting up against the headboard, a soft groan fell from his lips. His gaze over you was blown out and wide, and his grin wide with teeth.

"Come here," he ordered, the crook of his arm open for your body to slot into.

His other hand fell at the top of your chest, sliding it up around the back of your neck, holding you. The heavy weight of his touch had you pliant and loose in his hands; your eyelids fluttering with desire. He could do whatever he wanted to you in that moment, and you'd let him, but the only scandalous thing he did was kiss you.

He tasted like you, and you as him, and nothing had felt more right. Somehow, he maneuvered you onto his lap, distracting you with his kiss as he positioned you how he wanted. 

His leaking cock pressed into your stomach, and if you hadn't been so distracted the visualization would spark a thought of how deep inside you he'd reach, would graze you. Instead, you licked into his mouth, your desperate hands finding his cheeks where his beard prickled your palms.

"You want that cock inside, don't ya, princess?" he nudged between kisses, slipping a hand between your bodies to angle the tip of his cock to rub through your folds, circling it around your aching hole.

The new stimulation had you pulling away from his mouth with a hitched breath, "Please– been so long."

Pressing your cheek into the crook of his neck, a sticky sheen of desperation clung to your skin as you lifted your hips. He slid the bulbous head through your seam where you dripped over him, coating him in your slick arousal.

"Go ahead, baby, sit on that cock, take what you need," Joel's voice rumbled against your skin.

Lowering your hips, the blunt fat head of his cock pushed past your folds and nudged at your opening. He let you take the lead this time, letting you control the pace at which you worked inch by inch of him deeper inside you. The stretch of him always burned deliciously, an aching pleasure that you didn't think you'd ever get enough of.

When you finally eased yourself down on him, your hips flush with his, a guttural moan fell from Joel's lips. Sitting on his cock like this, he reached deeper than he'd ever done before; a heavy pressure poking at the deepest part of yourself. It was almost too much, your thighs clenched as they fought to move back up.

"There you go," he cooed, "So fuckin' tight f'me."

"Joel," you whined out in a heavy breath, digging you face deeper into the crook of his neck.

"'s alright," he soothed, nosing down the length of your jaw, "'s all yours, use it princess– get yourself off on my cock."

You couldn't help the whimper you stuck to his skin as you felt him flex inside of you, your walls fluttering around him desperately as you rocked your hips into him. The wiry hair at the base of his cock nudged against your throbbing clit, the new angle prodded at the spot inside that made your hips stutter.

Joel let you do all the work as you lifted your hips, slowly at first, and lowered yourself down on him. Looking for more leverage, you forced yourself to sit up straight, your hands digging into his shoulders as you pushed back on him at an increasing pace, using him for your own pleasure.

"Such a good girl, keep goin', just like that," he praised from under you, watching how your eyebrows creased as your eyes shut at the increasing pleasure.

Moving your hips at an unabashed pace, Joel's hands found yours to intertwine with. "Come on, baby, don't stop now, ride that cock, bounce on it like a good slut," he encouraged, pushing back against your hands.

Lost in the fog of your own pleasure, desperate pleas and whiny breaths were the only coherent sounds falling from your lips, the feeling of him filling you up repeatedly, too good for words.

When your thighs burned with effort, you slowed down your bounces and fell against his chest to catch your breath. Swiveling your hips between chasing grinds, the desperation in you still chased your orgasm.

"Gettin' tired, princess?" Joel asked, his voice full of faux pity. His hands untangled from yours to fall at your back, his fingers teasing over the band of your bra. "Need me to do it f'ya, huh?"

Hooking his finger under your bra strap, he pulled, letting it smack harshly and quick against your skin in reprimand. You jolted against him, letting out a whine and a "Yes, please," as the end of him poked at your spot at the movement. 

Unhooking your bra, Joel cast it aside, getting lost in the duvet along with the rest of your underwear. Cupping your ass, he squeezed a good handful before a hand came down in a stinging smack!

What happened next was nothing short of instinctive. Keeping you steady in his lap, Joel thrusted up into you, setting a brutal pace. Bouncing in his lap, you felt like a rag doll. Rolling your head back, you met every thrust, felt every vein, and every ridge of him, as the fat head repeatedly hit the spot so deep inside you. When your vision started going spotty with pleasure, and Joel's lips spilled filth between his grunts, you  were tethering right on the edge.

"Keep goin'– good girl, earn my fuckin' cum."

"Y'want me to fill y'up don't cha? Have it leakin' outta you all night."

"Come on, princess, I know you're close, give m'cock a big squeeze."

The noises spilling out your throat were breathy and whiny, harmonizing perfectly with the deep guttural grunts out of Joel. When his hand reached between your bodies, the flat callused pad of his thumb putting pressure down on your clit, it was all too much.

With an arch of your back, he tipped you over the edge, the pleasure rolling over you like a blinding wave. Your body went rigid for a moment, your cunt squeezing around him like a vice, before the tension released in a stuttering shake.

"There she goes, my good girl," Joel praised, but his voice was far away, like someone had stuffed cotton in your ears, or pulled your head under water.

Prolonging your release, Joel never stopped his thrusts, only slowing them down as he sped up his fingers on your clit. Your mouth dropped in a quiet scream, your face twisted in pained pleasure as a stream of liquid gushed from your cunt.

You didn't notice the surprised look on his face, or the way he groaned out, "Fuck– you're amazin', princess– 'm comin'." But you felt the way his cock twitched inside you, pulsed thick spurts of his cum as he filled you deep and steady with his hot release.

Caught up in his own pleasure, Joel sunk down the bed, dragging you with him. The feeling of his cum filling you up, branding you as his, had you withering with another gush of release over his thighs. Your skin stuck to his, and with this new angle his cock slipped out of you from the force of your orgasm.

Everything was sticky, everything was hot. Riding out the last buzzes of your ecstasies, you could still feel how intensely your clit throbbed as Joel's heavy release dribbled out of you, making a mess over his wet thighs and softening cock.

You didn't realize you were crying until Joel peeled your cheek from his chest, two large palms cupping your head to thumb at the wet tears.

"'s okay, baby, you're okay," he cooed, wrapping his strong safe arms tightly around you, while you clung to him like a koala bear. "I'm here."

It was only two words, but it was just the two you needed to hear.

Joel was here.

"Thank you," you whispered, afraid your voice would break if you spoke louder.

"You did so good f'me," he cooed, as your heartbeats steadied.

Pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, Joel turned to the side, dragging you with him. Your limbs were coated in your releases, and sweat clung to your skin, but it didn't matter as he pulled you closer. You didn't know how long he held you, how many kisses he pressed against your skin, but you could never get enough.

When he finally pulled away, you whined, your fingers digging into the flesh of his arm.

"Please don't leave," you whimpered, your brain scrambled with vulnerability.

"'m not leavin', pretty girl, but ‘m gettin’ you cleaned up. That sound alright?"

Getting out of bed felt like moving through molasses, but Joel was patient, helping you to the bathroom on your wobbly legs. Finding a washcloth in your cupboard, he dampened it with warm water before he dragged it down your thighs, catching the mix of your combined release where it had started to run down your leg.

"Made a mess didn't we?" he teased with a wink.

Shooting him half of a smile, you only nodded, tiredness pushing at your eyelids. Joel didn't push, only cleaned himself up before he told you to pee while he changed the sheets. When you finally emerged from the bathroom, Joel invited you back in his embrace, curling himself around your body in a safe weight as your eyelids started to droop to the feeling of his soft kisses against your skin.

When you woke, the bed was empty. Looking around the room a coldness ran through you as you started to wonder if last night had all been a dream. But then you heard a low hum of music coming through the open bedroom door, along with the smell of breakfast cooking, and the coldness melted away.

Grabbing your robe off the hook by the door, the music got louder as you padded into your kitchen. Joel stood with his back to you, already dressed as he pushed gently at the eggs frying in the pan. With a look over his shoulder, Joel noticed you and the smile that spread on his face as he took you in in all your morning glory, had a warmth tug at your heart.

"You ain't got no coffee in this house," he told you, turning back to the eggs.

"I usually go down to the coffee shop on the corner," you shrugged, sitting down at the table.

"That ain't real coffee, princess," he clicked his tongue playfully, sliding the eggs carefully onto two plates he'd set aside with two pieces of toast ready.

"Thank you serf," you joked as he placed one of the plates in front of you. It earned you a genuine laugh as Joel sat down opposite you.

"You're welcome, brat," he smiled.

There was something so romantic about the way he said it, all casual and smirking. And when you caught the way his eyes glinted as he looked at you, you found yourself thinking that if this was love, then you thought you could get used to it.

For the first time in your life, you wanted to fall in love. 

Again and again.

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[woahjo]

The People We Became (Bakugou x Reader)

masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Zombie Apocalypse Au.

The world fell apart almost a year ago and you refused to go with it. Left alone and to your own devices in a world full of monsters, where the dead come back to life, you believe that maybe surviving isn't living.

When Katsuki finds you alone in the woods and on the precipice of collapsing from exhaustion, he decides to bring you back to the house his group calls home. Against your better judgement and hesitancy to become attached, you decide to stay. In this world, everyone has lost someone. No soul is spared the violence, and you start sleeping with Bakugou Katsuki to dull the ache. Somehow, peace finds you anyway, but not without sacrifice.

Chapter Content Warnings:  fem!reader, gender neutral pronouns, strangers to lovers, violence typical of zombies, blood, gore, romance, slow-ish burn (for the emotional stuff), angst, kissin', questions of identity, loss, grief, graphic depictions of death and/or violence, mentions and descriptions of starvation/exhaustion typical of an apocalypse setting, very slight implications of possible sexual violence typical of an apocalypse setting, derealization, depersonalization, weapons (guns, blades, and traps), loss of identity

All content warnings can be found on ao3 with the rest of the series.

Word Count: 14.4k — 53k total on ao3

A/N: it's finally done... i'm sweating. i screamed. i cried. i bled. you know the drill. i am posting this a little differently than my other fics and series. only the first chapter will be posted here on tumblr (this post), with the rest of it broken up into chapters and posted on ao3.. purely because it was originally meant as a one shot and i don't like posting chapters on tumblr. it's not built for that and im tired. anyway, im nervous this is my new baby and im pretty sure my soul is somewhere in here. if u read this, pls come tell me what you think.. it fuels me. enjoy, cry, sweat, or whatever else you do when you read. as always, thank you and i love you.

Two hundred and seventy six. It’s been two hundred and seventy six days since the world completely went to shit. You don’t really count the initial outbreak. The initial outbreak was relatively contained once people found out about it. You quarantined. You stayed inside. All it really took were a handful of idiots. Someone selfish. Someone who panicked and ran instead of facing the world honorably, and that was it. It only took days to lose almost every semblance of a normal life and a week to lose everything else. 

The light of your fire is dim, embers burning low as you sit in a foldable chair beside it. The chair is from a friend, someone you’re not with anymore and who went somewhere you couldn’t follow, and you've got a metal spatula in your hand. You're not sure why you grabbed it when you fled, but panic does weird things to the mind. You absentmindedly wonder why you’ve brought it along with you all this time. There’s no logical reason for you to tote the thing around. A friend had told you how strange it was that you thought to toss it into your bag and continue carrying it. This, along with a few other oddities, are all you managed to take from your house when the world fell to ruin. Everything else are things scavenged along the way or from people you'd met, joined, and lost. 

Maybe it’s because the spatula is somewhat normal, like somehow when you cook the game on your makeshift tin over your shitty fire, you can pretend you’re in your kitchen. A smash burger sounds good right now, with grilled onions on a brioche bun like the ones from the place by your apartment. 

The night is near silent and trees creak and crack like the hulls of great ships under heavy pressure, but the birds don't sing and nothing in the crowded wood you're taking shelter in makes a sound. Well, except for you and the gentle crackle of your fire. 

It’s easy to miss the noise that used to irritate you when the world goes quiet. You used to hate the sounds and lights of passing trucks when they’d cross on the street below your apartment window. Now, you’d do anything for the familiar comfort. The world is so dark and quiet, like it’s holding its breath and waiting for this to be over. The silence is almost too much, so loud that it hurts your ears. You huddle closer to the fire, craving its quiet sound. Focusing on it lessens the anxiety of the other noises. The ones you don’t want to hear. 

Your head is on a swivel. It has been for months. Ever since the outbreak, ever since the dead rose and began consuming and infecting the living, you've kept watch. A paranoid, never ending cycle that you suppose—if left on your own—will burn itself out. You swallow thick and return your attention to the fire, watching the tree line just in front of you for any hint of movement or monsters. 

A branch cracks just behind you. A swift sound, followed by rapid footsteps. You stand, quickly turning your head, only to see a figure a few feet away from you. They move quickly and the dancing light of the fire obscures their features from view. Their eyes, most importantly. You can always tell if someone is dead or alive based on their eyes and the sounds that their joints make. In this light, should this stranger have that milky white film over them, you wouldn't be able to tell. 

You make a small noise, something between a whimper and a shout, as the person comes to a stop in front of you and holds a flashlight directly into your face. You squint, panic in your veins as your eyes adjust as best they can to the sudden assault. It takes you a moment to realize that there is a gun pointed directly at your forehead. The living. This person is alive. You're not sure yet if encountering one of the dead would have been worse. 

"Shut up and drop your weapon," he says in a hurried voice. It's aggressive and threatening. It comes from deep in his chest, like somehow fear has gripped and mutilated it into something violent. 

You raise your shaky hands to your head quickly at the order, screwing your eyes shut in the beam of the flashlight. 

"It's not a weapon!" you shout, voice cracking. "It's a spatula. It's a spatula." 

The words are rushed and heavy, fear seizing your chest as you look down the barrel of the gun. The flashlight turns off, sending you back into the dark. Your eyes fight to adjust, catching the firelight that glints off of the barrel, and you begin to makeout the man’s features. He's big, blonde under the grime, you think. A man, not the best thing to encounter alone at night in times like these. 

You see him hesitate for a moment, eyes darting between you and the silver kitchen item in your hand. You drop it quickly, hoping to appeal to his humanity. 

"Do you have a weapon on you?" he questions, voice a little less urgent. 

You shake your head in response and then shakily look beside the chair, choking out the word “ground”. There's a knife there and a pistol with no bullets. You're a poor shot and you had run out of ammo the previous week. He glances at it, the gun still raised at you, and sidesteps to grab the two items. When he does, he cautiously lowers the weapon and you start to lower your trembling hands. 

Then, as if struck by some realization, the man stomps towards the fire and you jump as he does.

"The fuck are you doing lighting a fire this late?" he says angrily, opening the clip of your pistol. "And with no fucking bullets. Those things may be dead, but they can still fuckin' see. That's a good way to get yourself killed." 

He stomps out the fire as he talks, urgently stamping out what's left of the low-burning logs. 

"I didn't think there were many in the area," you justify, furrowing your eyebrows as you step away from him. 

"And that's a risk you want to take?" he says indignantly. You wonder briefly what business he has worrying about you. 

"What do you want?" you snap, "My food? Weapons? Life? What is it?" 

The man scoffs, "Jesus, none of that. I don’t want your shit." 

You narrow your eyes and take a step back. One thing this world has done is remove trust from every chance encounter, and that was already hard enough when the place was sane. 

"Not all people who camp out in the woods are good," he says. "But I sure as shit didn't expect to find someone like you alone lighting a damn fire. Stupid." 

"There were others," you say indignantly, like somehow that makes it better. "Force of habit, I guess." 

The man pauses for a moment as understanding passes between the two of you. It's a relatable feeling. Everyone has lost someone now. 

"Got a name?" he asks. 

You hesitate in giving it to him and the pause causes him to roll his eyes. “You want me to call you Idiot-with-no-bullets instead?” 

You give him your name and the man nods as if he likes the sound of it, turning it over in his head before inhaling. 

"I'm Katsuki," he furrows his eyebrows. "You're alone?" 

You nod, swallowing down the grief that pushes at your throat. 

"Wasn't always," you respond, "but yeah. Now, I am." 

He nods his understanding. 

"Come with me." 

"Where?" you say instinctively, a defensive edge to your voice. Katsuki looks at you as if you’re stupid, or maybe it's pity, like you're a wounded animal. Probably both. 

"Where the fuck do you think?" he retorts. "We've got a camp a little ways from here. I saw your fire from the watch post we have stationed." 

You look at him like he's a little crazy for even thinking to bring you. Kindness, especially the selfless type, is so rare now and you find it difficult to believe that he’s willing to take you there at no cost. 

He scoffs and rolls his head over his shoulder. "Look, we've got men and women," then he pauses. "Used to have children. We're not gonna hurt you. World's gone to shit, do you really wanna keep at it alone?" 

He's probably right. You've been alone for weeks now, exhausted for longer, and though your common sense tells you not to go off with a strange man in this kind of world, the promise of rest is far too tempting. You nod and glance back to your camp. A measly collection of supplies haphazardly put together. You suppose that it doesn’t look so promising. 

"We'll come back for it when it's light," he says. "I don't know about you, but I'd rather not spend longer in these dark ass woods than I have to." 

"Okay," you say. The presence of another person both sets you on edge and makes you feel the press of fatigue even more. A gun's barrel on your nose followed by the promise of safety and you're going with him? You must be stupider than a horror movie protagonist. "Do you take in a lot of strays?" 

Katsuki looks over his shoulder and you think you see him smile a little at the phrase. 

"If that's what you want to call it," he says begrudgingly. Then, with a softer tone of voice, barely noticeable with the quiet whisper you both have been speaking at. "I'm sure the others won't mind one more."

You nod a little and follow him through the wood, stepping over obstacles. Your eyes have adjusted to the dark, but you feel unsteady on your feet. Everything you’ve ever learned about this world tells you that maybe you shouldn’t go with him. What if they’re dangerous? It’s easy to lie about women and children, about a community that doesn’t exist. Or worse, it’s easy to fool yourself that where you are is good, but you don’t know yet if he’s the type to delude himself. He doesn’t seem it. 

The two of you walk for what feels like forever, even if it is only a little over half a mile. Your feet have been aching for days and every step you take feels like a blade into the heel. Katsuki seems steady, his gun secured at his hip and a large knife in his dominant hand. He doesn’t have the flashlight out, but he seems sure-footed and takes every step in stride, as if he’s too heavy to be swayed by any missed step. 

As you move, you can barely make out his back in the white tank top he wears. You use it as a landmark, following the glowing white as it catches the light from the moon. Like chasing a ghost through the trees. 

Then, the wood eases up. The trees grow sparse and the suffocating humidity of the forest eases into a more breathable, open-air breeze. Katsuki steps out into a clearing. It’s relatively small, for how large the world is, but it’s some of the most open space you’ve seen in a while. The feeling of stepping out into the tall grass, where you’re both visible to any wandering thing, sends a rush of fear through you. 

By the edge of the clearing, there’s a small house with a short steeple. It almost looks like a Christian church, but you get the sense that it’s likely a barn. That must be the watchtower and you wonder just how good the view of the forest is from up there if Katsuki managed to see the light of your fire. How many other people had seen your fires over the weeks and not made it out to confront you? How close had you come before to safety or annihilation? 

"Hey!" a girl's voice calls. "He's back!" 

In the near distance, you can see a large and dimly lit house. It looks a little worn down, but soft and hardly noticeable light emanates from it in a way that makes it seem inviting.You can’t make out its exact silhouette and night blurs just how broken-down it is, but you can tell that people live there in the same way you can tell when someone has just left a room. 

Someone runs across the field to you both. It looks like a man and a woman, maybe around Katsuki's age. They move quickly through the tall grass and for a moment, the urgency that they move with frightens you. You worry that your presence will ignite some protective sort of panic. You linger back, letting Katsuki grow a little farther from you as they call out to him. 

“Yeah, yeah," he half-shouts, no longer seeming to care about keeping quiet. Guess that's what happens when there's a group. "I found the fire I mentioned." 

The two come to a stop in front of him, resting their hands on their hips as they catch the breath they lost. 

"We started to get a little worried," says the girl. She's pretty, with big eyes and curly hair that looks like it probably used to be dyed. "You've been gone for a while." 

"Well, I'm back," he says. 

"And you brought a friend," the other man says, sounding shocked. His tone is noticeably kind. The boisterous type of kind and when he smiles, you can see that he has sharp canines. His hair is straight, sticking out in different directions, and tinged with red in this light.

"More like an acquaintance," Katsuki says. “I found them in the woods with a fire and an empty clip. Felt like their blood would be on my hands if I didn’t bring them back.” The red-haired man gives him a telling look and Katsuki scoffs in response and turns to the girl. "Get them settled, Mina, will you?" The girl called Mina nods and Katsuki takes off toward the house without another word. 

"You're lucky," she says, pausing when you flinch as she steps closer. "You're gettin' the last solo room in the place. Kirishima, is it set up?" 

Kirishima shrugs his shoulders. "You'd have to ask Izuku. He'd know all about that, but I can go check." 

Mina shakes her head and turns her attention to you, giving you a quick once over with her eyebrows pulled together.

"You must be tired.” 

When you nod, she gives you an empathetic smile and motions for you to come with her. "We'll fix that. You hungry?" 

"What do you think?" you manage, saliva pooling in your mouth. "Do you have food?" 

"Plenty," she smiles. "not quite enough for leftovers just yet though, don’t tell anyone." 

You smile awkwardly. Who on earth would you tell? 

"Sounds like a good deal," you say. 

You follow Mina up to the house. Around it, there are a few parked cars. They look like they could pull out at any moment, and through the dust covered windows, you can just make out supplies in the back seats as you pass. In the distance, you can see the fuzzy silhouette of the barn you’d assumed was a watchtower in the dark of the field and you figure that maybe it used to be a place to keep livestock. 

Mina doesn't say much to you as you pass through the field, and when you walk into the door, the first thing you notice is a large group of people seated at a dining table. They all look up at you when you enter and it's with a bit of shock that you register their faces as healthy. Well, healthier. These people live well. Something stirs in your chest, both anxiety and excitement at the thought of possibly having found somewhere safe. They blink at you for a moment, exchanging looks that all end up landing on Katsuki. 

"This is the group. Well, most of us," Mina says pleasantly and with a light huff. "That's Izuku, Denki, Ochako, Sero, and you already know the handsome guy on the end there. Kiri's probably checking to see if the room is half decent.." They all greet you with a glad murmur. "Group, this is..." 

She looks at you expectantly. When you tell them your name, you can't help but look at Katsuki who already knows it. He raises his eyebrows unconsciously and turns his attention to the glass in front of him. 

There’s an awkward pause as you stand in the doorway, suddenly conscious of just how dirty you must look. Remnants of an older world, you suppose. No one really worries about things like that anymore.

“Uhm…” you search for something to say, but your people skills seem to have left you. 

“You’re okay,” Mina says lightly. “Plenty of time to get to know you when you’ve rested and had something to eat.” 

Mina sits you down at a chair that she pulls in from the other room. It doesn't match the other ones in the dining room, but you suppose no one is really thinking of the decor in their house anymore. It's only now that you realize the house has electricity.

"You have power?" you say incredulously, looking at the center light in the dining room on its low setting. 

"Mhm," Mina hums as she sits down next to you and spoons a helping of vegetables onto your plate. "It's got a generator. We got lucky finding this place. I don't think many of us would be alive if we hadn't." 

Those listening in the group nod their affirmation. 

"It draws from well water too," she adds. "With the right care, the place practically runs on its own. Hard work but what isn't nowadays?" 

“Like you do any of the heavy lifting," Sero scoffs across from her.

"That's not fair," Katsuki adds with a slick smirk, "you know damn well none of our vegetables would be so well socialized if she didn't use them like a damn diary all day." 

The group laughs a little and Mina rolls her eyes and sits back in the chair. You avoid looking at anyone, shoveling the food into your mouth. You’re salivating an almost embarrassing amount, struggling to eat at a normal pace. There’s something about food cooked inside, about the way food tastes when you can smell it wafting in from the kitchen. 

"Don't worry," she turns to you, as if you’re at all concerned with the implication that she doesn’t do much work, "they know we’d hardly have vegetables at all if it weren't my job to tend them. I used to garden quite a bit before all of this." 

Sero tosses her a sideways glance and you get the sense that maybe it isn’t just her doing it. 

"Mina does a lot of the garden stuff," Ochako pitches in, her voice hesitant. "We all sort of just do what we can." 

You can’t really keep up with the conversation and instead just blink at her for a moment before turning back to your food. Maybe that’s rude, but you don’t have the energy to consider it. There’s food in front of you. Food that doesn’t taste like it’s been poorly slaughtered or rotting in a cabinet for months. 

The group at the table with you shifts back into what you feel is their normal conversation and you watch them through your peripheral. You can’t relax yet, maybe you never will. Always on watch with your guard up. 

They pass the dishes around the table, plates going from hand to hand over mismatched sets of silverware. The action feels strange to you. Your chest squeezes at the thought. Just a few weeks ago, you’d done this around a fire with the people you loved. You’d passed a too-hot-to-touch pot around a circle of friends, laughing quietly at the little moments of joy you could find. It feels far away now and jealousy rouses beside hope as you sit. 

“So, where did you come from?” Izuku at the end of the table asks. 

It takes you a moment to realize that he’s talking to you and there’s an edge to his voice that has everyone at the table sitting up with curiosity. You stare at him for a moment, exhausted and defeated and unable to muster the words. 

“Leave them be,” Katsuki says, looking up from his plate. “They just got here. They’re probably freaked out.” 

The table goes a little quiet, a hush falling over it. You look around as glances are exchanged before Mina stands up quickly and quietly claps her hands together. 

“I think,” she says with an awkward laugh, “it may be time for bed.” 

Mina turns to you. “I’ll show you where you can sleep.” 

You nod, standing up and turning to the group with furrowed eyebrows. You want to thank them, to tell them that you’re grateful for the meal and their kindness, but the words don’t come. Instead, you meet Katsuki’s gaze, grateful for the intervention, but suspicious at such forthcoming kindness. He scoffs a little and turns away. 

—

“It’s just up here,” Mina says as she guides you through the house.

You pass rooms with their doors ajar. They are lived in, with unmade beds and glasses of clean water on nightstands. It’s like something out of a life gone by, with a few less amenities. You can imagine a family moving through this house. Girls in school uniforms calling through the halls about a stolen hair clip. Now, you picture these people doing that. Living and not just surviving.

“The bathroom is across the hall,” she says. “You can take a shower if you want. I’ll leave a towel and some clothes in there just in case.”  

You nod. 

“No worries if you don’t,” Mina adds in a whisper. “When I first met everyone, I didn’t undress to bathe for days so… take your time. We won’t be offended.” 

She shuts the door behind her when she leaves and you stumble back onto the bed, shocked by just how soft it feels after spending weeks on the floor. It’s not much, but it’s nicer than anything you’ve experienced in the last nine months, and there's a working shower. You haven’t had a shower since everything fell apart and the layer of grime on your skin is so thick that you can feel it. You haven’t felt safe enough to properly wash since you’d lost the rest of your group, only stopping to rinse your body in streams you pass if the thought occurred to you. The idea of running water and a shower is near euphoric. 

You probably shouldn’t. It may not be wise to shower tonight. You still don’t know these people or what they’re capable of, but the temptation of being clean is too great and as soon as you hear Mina close the bathroom door and walk away, you hurry across the hall on the balls of your feet. 

The bathroom looks old and the sink is white porcelain, eggshell now with a lack of care. The shower has a bathtub in it and though it’s cloudy, there’s a mirror over the sink where you catch the first clear glimpse you’ve had of yourself in weeks. 

You don’t know who you’re looking at. The person in the mirror is nearly unrecognizable. Their eyes are wide and frightened, wild like an animal’s, and their face is covered in a layer of grime that looks like it can never be washed out. Their hair is unruly, sticking out in some areas and matted down with blood in others. This is a person you’ve never seen or met before. Someone you would have avoided only a year ago if you’d ever encountered them. 

You reach up to touch your face, running your hand over the dried blood that has made a home on the underside of your jaw. How long has it been there? Have you always looked so unwell? So sick in mind and body? The promise of a shower grows unbearably pleasant. 

The knob squeaks when you turn it, screeching as the pipes hum and clang to life. Water spits out in a few bursts before raining down from the faucet and hitting the back of the tub in a steady thrum. It sounds a little bit like music to you, constant and heavy, and it gives the impression of normalcy as you begin undressing. 

The fabric of your clothes sticks to your skin, peeling from your body in an unbearable and disgusting way. You don’t look at your body in the mirror. In fact, you avoid it entirely. Not recognizing your face was enough, but your body—a part of yourself you never really recognized—would drive you over the edge. 

Then, you pull the shower curtain back and stick your hand under the water, stepping into it fully with a deep sigh. The water is lukewarm. They probably turned off the heater to conserve power and allow the main generator to function for longer. That’s fine. Beggars can’t be choosers and everyone is a beggar nowadays. Besides, it’s warm enough outside that the water isn’t too cold as it is. In the winter, you probably wouldn’t be able to shower and the pipes might freeze entirely until the following spring. 

There’s a normalcy that you settle into as you wash your body. You return to muscle memory, running your hands over your skin and scrubbing the grime out. It’s simultaneously like the first shower of your life and as if you’ve been doing it every day. You return to a state of pleasant, familiar humanity as you wash away dirt that has built up for weeks. You feel as it pours off of you, see it run down your body onto the porcelain of the tub and swirl down the drain. It’s dirt and dried blood that has been caked onto your skin. You worry that even after washing, it will leave a permanent mark. 

The person in the mirror when you get out of the shower is in stark contrast to the person who went into it. They’re someone that you recognize. You could almost convince yourself that nothing ever changed. Your water-soaked skin is so familiar to you, that you could be getting out of the shower and dressing to go to work. If it weren’t for the look in your eyes, you could have fooled yourself. Something undefinable has changed in you, something that you will carry with you forever. You glance at yourself in the foggy mirror and think that there is no going back. 

The house is quiet when you dry yourself and open the bathroom door. You step across the hall on the balls of your feet, careful not to make any noise, and when you push the bedroom door open, you do a visual sweep to make sure that it’s safe out of habit. 

Your body is exhausted. You are so thoroughly tired that you think you could collapse at any moment, but when you sit down on the bed in your fresh clothes, you find yourself restless. This place is new to you and you’re unsure if the safe feeling is your mind playing desperate tricks on you or the real thing. The lamp by your bed is on, casting a yellow glow across the bedsheets and the dark wood furniture. Come to think of it, you didn’t get a good look at the house when you came in and the thought starts to bother you as you stare at the closed door to the hallway. 

Someone could be behind it. They could be waiting for you to lay down, to sleep, before doing something awful. You almost feel guilty for thinking this way about them. They’ve fed you, given you a shower, given you fresh clothes. Luxuries you weren’t sure even existed anymore, yet you’re sitting here doubting them, wishing you had your pistol or knife.

The bedroom door creaks as you open it. You wince, nervous that you’ve disturbed the quiet peace of the house and that everything will come crashing down as quickly as it seemed to come together. The hallway is dark, save for some light coming from under two doors at the end of the hall. One of them turns out as you creep past it to the stairs, and you hear the distinct sound of box springs squeaking as someone crawls into bed. You let go of the breath you’d been holding, straightening up as you relax into the late-night environment. 

The house looks old even from the inside. It gives the impression of having once been dirty and in near disrepair. There are dust stains and dull spots that no amount of scrubbing could get out. You can almost picture how this place may have looked when they found it and it’s entirely possible that it had been abandoned before the actual outbreak. Someone run out of their home for lack of money. What a trivial thing now. 

The stairs are sturdy, probably held together so well by the foundation of the house, and they’re made of dark wood. They’re steep too, the kind that a baby or old person might trip over, and you hold the railing to calm the shaking of your legs as you slowly feel your way down. You can see the light on in the kitchen from around the corner, spreading out onto the floor of the old fashioned drawing room. Dishes clink in the kitchen, like someone is washing them, and you jump a little at the noise as you creep around the corner. 

Kirishima is standing at the sink with his back to you, whispering something to someone beside him. The expanse of his back is broad, moving every time he goes to run his hand over the dish in front of him. Then, he turns to look at you and you see Mina pop her head around the corner. 

“Oh,” Kiri says, “did you need something?” 

You shake your head. “Not really, I just couldn’t sleep.” 

Kiri nods sympathetically as if he knows the feeling. “Well, you look like you feel a little better at least.” 

You pad over to where he’s doing the dishes and Mina offers you a soft smile and a knowing look. It all seems so normal. Doing the dishes, whispering quietly as they do. Something about it screams a kind of humanity you haven’t experienced in a long while, even with your last group. 

“Are you sure we can’t get you something?” Mina says, furrowing her brows. 

“Why are you all being so nice to me?” You ask. “You don’t know the first thing about me.” 

“Is there some reason why we shouldn’t be nice to you?” Kiri says over his shoulder. 

“No,” you shake your head. “I just think it’s reckless, that’s all. I could have been anyone.” 

Kirishima and Mina exchange a look. They glance at each other, like they’re debating on saying something, and then Kiri turns and rests his palms on the back of the sink. He looks at Mina. 

“We don’t usually decide to do this so quickly,” she admits. “We’re friendly, but nobody’s that friendly anymore.” 

Kiri nods his agreement and you listen quietly, trying to determine if they plan to toss you back out into the woods in the morning. 

“But, Katsuki doesn’t usually bring people in,” she continues. 

“He’s a little more closed off than the rest of us,” Kirishima adds. “He’s a good guy, just takes a while to warm up, is all.” 

“Mhm,” Mina says. 

“What does that have to do with me?” you ask. “This is nice and all, but I’m sure you get why I’m wary.” 

“He’s a good judge of character,” Kiri adds earnestly. “He doesn’t bring people in often, but when he does, he’s usually right.” 

You nod, not quite understanding. Sure, you don’t plan to do anything terrible. In fact, you’re content to accept their kindness and stay, if they’d let you. Anything is better than being alone, but their blind trust in one man’s judgment of character makes you uneasy. 

“He was alone for a really long time,” Mina adds. “A lot of us were. I got lucky meeting Kirishima early on, but Katsuki’s luck was a little less fortuitous.” 

“So you all just… happened upon each other by chance?” You ask. 

“Yeah, pretty much,” Mina says. “It was me and Kiri for a long time. Just the two of us. We’d found Izuku and Katsuki together a while later, but they didn’t seem to like each other all that much. We still haven’t really figured that out, especially because they’re so close now. Ochako and Sero ended up cornered together by accident. We found them just before we found this place, and Denki just sort of showed up here one day and promised to fix the generator in exchange for safety. That was months ago. We’ve been like this since.”

“So you’re all strays,” you say and Mina laughs a little and looks at Kiri. 

“Sure,” she says. “We’re all strays. There were others too. Shoji. Jirou. She was Denki’s girlfriend.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say with a frown. It feels pointless to apologize for the dead, if you get caught up in it, you’d be apologizing forever. 

“Don’t be,” Kiri adds. “But best not to bring her up. It was pretty recent and Denki’s only just started to get over it.” 

You swallow thick and nod a little. 

“Anyway,” Mina says, “we can’t really explain it. We just trust him. We trust Katsuki. That’s all.” 

“Hm,” you hum, understanding that to a degree. 

You trusted the people in your group. If they believed in someone, you were willing to as well, so you suppose you can understand a little where they’re coming from. 

“What are you talking about,” Katsuki rounds the corner, walking into the kitchen and putting his water bottle under the sink. 

“Nothing really,” Mina says. 

Katsuki furrows his eyebrows and then looks at you. He gives you a once over, taking in your new clothing before scoffing lightly. 

“Don’t you look cozy,” he says. “You get settled?” 

“When can I go get my stuff?” You ask. 

“Someone’s eager,” he says through lightly gritted teeth. “Didn’t I tell ya we could go in the morning? Besides, what’s there really to miss in that lot of junk?” 

“Katsuki!” Mina quietly chides. 

“I have things I care about there,” you say. “Things I’m not ready to lose.” 

Katsuki blinks at you for a second before swearing under his breath. “We’ll leave when you get up in the morning.” 

“You don’t have to come with me,” you say, frowning a bit at his sour attitude. 

“Like hell,” he scoffs. “What if the dead are waiting back there for you?” 

“I made it this far on my own,” you respond. 

Katsuki nods for a second. “I’m going. Come find me in the morning.” 

He walks off and around the corner. You hear him go up the stairs, followed by the distinct click of a bedroom door shutting. 

“Don’t pay too much attention to that,” Mina says. “It’s past his bedtime.” 

“You’ll get used to him,” Kiri adds. 

“Right,” you say, swallowing down your frustration in favor of trying to be appreciative of the help. You sway on your feet a little and then steady yourself. “I’m going to go to sleep. Thank you for the meal and the bed.” 

Mina and Kiri nod, but you don’t stick around to hear a response. Fatigue creeps up on you. It ambushes your senses and you go from feeling dream-like to delusional in a matter of moments. You make your way up the stairs, your body feeling heavy as lead, and wobble your way into the bedroom they’re letting you stay in. 

When your head hits the pillow, you’re out. The world around you fades to dark and just before you sleep, you swear that you can hear the sounds of cars passing on the highway. A busy night, Saturday maybe, and people go about their daily lives outside of the window the way that they always have. They live, never the wiser to just how quickly things fall apart and how little it takes for our humanity to leave us. 

— 

Mornings in this place are boisterous. The sun coming through the lone window in your room wakes you up and you can hear the calls of busy people getting to work outside. There are voices from the porch out front that your window looks over and though you can’t see them, you get the sense that they’re having a pleasant conversation. 

As you rouse, you come to the realization of just how exhausted you’d really been. They probably saved your life by bringing you to this place, feeding you, and offering you a bed. In hindsight, it’s easy to see just how little you had left in you. You get the sense now that you’d been running on an empty tank for days, slowly coming to an inglorious, gruesome, sputtering stop. 

Things seem a little clearer, like the sunlight is somehow less bleak than it had been the days previous and you feel a little bit like you have a new lease on life. There are no big emotions, no swells of hope or humanity just yet, and you dread the moment you are rested enough to let grief consume you. Right now, you can’t feel it, but there is a fear in you that as you get to know these people who live relatively beautifully in an ugly world, it will weigh you down so much that you’ll never be able to outrun it. 

You wonder if they’ll let you stay. They very well may not, even with the way they were talking last night. Strangers are more dangerous than they’ve ever been and if they ask you whether or not you’ve killed someone, you refuse to lie to them. Sitting up on the bed, you mull over the very real possibility that you could be back out there on your own again in a matter of days and you don’t even have that many good acts under your belt to plead your case. You’re just a person and you’ve done what you needed to in order to survive. Now, you’re not sure if that’s enough. 

You swallow thick, wandering over to the mirror on the dresser. It’s fogged, though less than the bathroom mirror, and you can make out your features a little better than you could last night. You feel a bit more sane, though you still don’t recognize the frightful and distrustful look in your eyes. Like a wounded animal. Inside your head, you acknowledge that you are completely different from the person you were two hundred and seventy seven days ago. 

The voices grow louder as you climb down the stairs, more secure on your feet than you felt last night. You can hear them talking about the generator, as well as a name you don’t recognize. 

“He should be back by now,” a woman says. “Shoto’s never gone longer than a day or two, max.” 

“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” another woman says with a worried bite in her voice. Mina, maybe? “We’re only a few hours into the day. He probably got holed up somewhere.” 

“Someone needs to go look for him,” a man says.

“And what? Risk getting yourself killed?” the first woman says. “No, it doesn’t make sense. We need you here.” 

“You’d rather we leave him to die on his own?” 

“No one’s fuckin’ dying.” 

You recognize Katsuki’s voice. 

“He’s perfectly capable of going on a gasoline run,” he continues. “He’s done it before.” 

“I should have gone with him,” says the same woman. 

“On that leg? You wouldn’t have made it halfway to town, let alone there and back,” his voice raises a little. “Don’t be stupid. He’ll be back.” 

You clear your throat and step around the corner. The group turns to face you quickly at the sound, their eyes wide for a moment before relaxing. You can’t sneak up on anyone nowadays. 

“Sorry,” you say, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Is everything okay?” 

It’s not your business, but you ask anyway, wondering for yourself about the safety of Shoto. 

“Fine,” Izuku says, shaking his head. You recognize him to be the one who'd vouched for going after their friend. Katsuki takes a step away from the broad man as he says this. “Nothing for you to worry about. Did you rest?” 

Izuku smiles gently at you, his chest inflating a little at the question. The movement broadens his shoulders and you realize that he stands almost a head taller than Katsuki. You look briefly between the two of them before nodding. 

“I did,” you say. “Thank you.” 

“Nothing wrong with a little hospitality now and then,” he smiles and you can’t help but furrow your eyebrows at the distinct hesitance in his voice. 

“I don’t think we’ve met,” the woman standing across from Izuku says. “I’m Momo. Sorry I wasn’t there to meet you last night. I’ve been a little under the weather.” 

You introduce yourself to her and glance down at her leg. Her ankle is swollen and wrapped in a bandage. Her sneaker laces are untied at the top to make room for the swelling and you can see that she’s guarding that side of her leg. 

“Is it…?” you grimace, taking an instinctive step away from her. You almost feel bad for it, but sometimes good people make bad decisions when loved ones get bit. 

“No,” she says quickly, “no, it isn’t. Caught an edge in an old chain link fence on the property a couple days back.” 

Momo smiles slightly at you as if to reassure you. She’s really beautiful, with thick dark hair pulled back into a somewhat messy ponytail. Her eyes are bright, like she’s engaged in lively conversation, and you find yourself feeling a little sad for her. She’ll need medicine soon, if they can get it. Infections set in easily these days and you get the sense that even she knows that she may not have long without it. Maybe that’s something else their friend Shoto set out to find. 

“I assume you’ll be wanting to go get your supplies?” Katsuki says, cutting the conversation short. Maybe he could sense the sour turn of thoughts. 

“Ready when you are,” you respond with a nod. 

Katsuki glances at Izuku, who gives him a slightly disapproving look. 

“Someone get them something to eat,” Katsuki says. “...I’ll get my shit ready.” 

“Fig jam…” Mina mumbles as she motions for you to follow her to the kitchen. 

You oblige her, not exactly jumping to turn down a meal. She walks you into the kitchen and opens up a cabinet, where she pulls out a jar filled with a dark and seed filled paste. It’s a jam, sealed in a jar that looks older than what’s inside of it. The seal breaks open with a pleasant pop. 

“This stuff is so good,” she says to you over her shoulder, pulling out a package of crackers that have likely gone stale. “You won’t believe it.” 

She spreads the jam on a few crackers and sets it in front of you on a plate, pushing it across the counter towards you. 

“It’s fig jam,” she says with a smile. “Homemade.” 

You look down at the plate, your mouth watering at the prospect of something sweet like this. It’s been so long since you've had fresh jam. It could be as long as 10 years. You don’t think you’ve had it since you were a kid, when jam came easily and you preferred the processed brands at the supermarket to the ones your mom used to make sometimes. 

You raise the cracker to your mouth and stuff it in with little grace. The sweetness spreads across your tongue as soon as you bite into the stale cracker. It fizzes and pops almost, the sugar melting across your tongue as the seeds crack softly between your teeth. The smile that hits your face is completely involuntary and though you know that nine months ago, this jam wouldn’t have been much, today it is something extraordinary. 

Mina nods a kind of girlish agreement, like the way people used to when they had their friend try something at their favorite restaurant. 

“We got here in the fall. I want to say late October or early November?” she offers. “We were starving and there wasn’t enough food to feed all of us. By that time there were like… nine of us.” 

You listen as you eat your crackers. 

“This place was in such an awful state,” she laughs. “I mean, really terrible. But, it was big and there was a fig tree in the back. A little thing, probably only a few years old and it had fruit on it. We ate so many of them that if the world were normal, we’d have sworn off of them forever. When we realized that the house actually had some old food in it,” she interrupts herself “-nothing good, canned stuff mostly- we decided to jar up the rest of the figs so that they didn’t rot.” 

She smiles at you like it’s a pleasant memory, but you can only think about how hungry they must have been. Your stomach growls as you eat. 

“I know it doesn’t sound like much,” she says, “but for some reason it’s a really nice memory. Honestly, we’re lucky we didn’t die.” 

Mina laughs a little. 

“I mean,” she continues, “we didn’t even clear the area before we started pulling at the figs and throwing them into our mouths.” 

You tilt your head at her and furrow your eyebrows with a small smile. 

“You’re really forthcoming with information.” 

“You just seem a little hesitant, is all,” she answers. 

“Can you blame me?” 

Mina shrugs her shoulders but doesn’t really offer an answer. You assume it’s because she can’t, because Mina has the same doubts everyone carries with them in this world. All of the what ifs people would think about before they slept have become more prevalent than anyone would have ever liked. 

“The jam is good,” you say, trying to be friendly in the same way she is. “Even if it is months old.” 

“Things keep well in jars,” Mina defends softly, smiling a little as she gets another out of you. 

This place feels like a little slice of paradise. A blessing from whoever lived here before and kept a garden stocked with vegetables. From someone who lived in an old house with stables and well-water, who kept canned food past its expiration date. It feels almost too good to be true, like these people live in a bubble bound to pop. 

“You ready?” Katsuki thuds into the kitchen with an empty backpack slung over his shoulder. 

You turn, startled by his sudden appearance and nod as you quickly finish chewing the last cracker. Katsuki furrows his eyebrows as he watches the way you scarf it down. 

When you stand from the table, Katsuki turns on his heel to make for the front door and you follow with a light step. Mina says something about staying safe, but you don’t respond, glancing once over your shoulder at the girl. 

It’s strange, the world has made you wishy-washy and uncommitted. You never used to be like that, never so distrusting as to second guess someone’s kindness the moment your back is turned to them, and you’re certainly not the type to be friendly one moment and closed off the next. Now though, you find that doubt creeps in easily through cracks and any foundation that didn’t exist before, seems to be swallowed before you can finish building it. 

Katsuki leads you back across the small clearing you’d come through the night before. It looks different in the day, almost romantic, and it lacks any of the ominous feeling it had the previous evening. He steps over mounds in the dirt from moles and gophers that have made lawns their new home and you try to mimic his steps, sinking occasionally into a particularly soft patch of dirt. Every now and then, Katsuki glances behind him to check that you’re still there and you offer him a forced smile that he never returns.

You catch up to him when you hit the trees, sticking close at his side like something will come and take you away if you’re not. It’s unintentional, but you don’t have a weapon on you. Your knife is back at your makeshift camp, along with the unloaded pistol and your trusty spatula. 

“How do you know where we’re going?” You ask in a whisper. 

Katsuki tosses a look at you over his shoulder. “I’m good with directions.” 

His tone is clipped, like he’s pissed about something, and your expression sours at it. Sure, you get it but it irritates you to some small degree. You hadn’t asked him to come along. In fact, you’d have been fine getting back here to collect your stuff on your own. You’d have asked for a knife and set out without a second thought, if only because being alone in the woods with some guy was less preferable than doing it by yourself. Of course, some guy also probably saved your life, but you’re not quite ready to relinquish your trust completely. 

“Thanks for coming,” you decide. A peace offering. 

Katsuki doesn’t answer and you furrow your brows a little bit. You wonder if he’s always been like this or if the end of the world brought on the loss of his manners. 

Then, he stops, taking you by the arm and pulling you down beside a bush. You gasp and he puts his hand over your mouth to silence you. There’s the urge to bite him, to catch the fleshy bit connecting his thumb and pointer finger between your teeth and bite down till he bleeds, but you stop when you catch what he’s looking at. 

Two of the living dead crouch by a tree, clicking their tongues as they eat something just out of sight. You furrow your eyebrows, eyes widening at the horror of it. For some reason, seeing them always brings about a round of momentary shock. You’ve yet to let go of the hounding thought that they used to be people and sometimes have to reorient yourself to the world you’re in now. 

You catch Katsuki’s eye behind you, his calloused hand still clasped over your mouth, and nod your head. It’s a silent communication that you’ve seen what he has and he removes his palm from your face to grab a knife tucked into his belt, passing it to you quickly. 

The two infected haven’t noticed the two of you yet, but they will soon, if only by the smell of your flesh which has yet to rot. You hear Katsuki let out a breath, as if to calm his heart, and do the same. There’s time to look at them like this and you’re struck by how human you can pretend they are in your head. Well, you suppose they were human once, now they’re a disease using someone’s skin as a mask. 

Infected people aren’t quick, that’s one thing to be grateful for. Back when the outbreak first started, the CDC had released information on what to look out for in those who might have contracted the virus. The first was obviously a bite wound from another infected person, but you can tell from other symptoms. Early symptoms are average. Body aches, fever, lethargy, and delirium. All things you might see with a nasty flu. Then, infection of the wound site, twitching, foggy eyes—like low-grade cataracts—that develop within a matter of hours or days, severe disorientation, aversion to food, insomnia, with the final symptom being a coma that no one ever wakes up as themselves from. 

These are the symptoms that people are conscious for. The ones they feel. The sickness that people tried to nurse others back from. There is no coming back though, not alive at the very least. The virus attacks the nerves throughout the brain and body, that’s what causes the twitching and convulsions. It’s what ultimately kills us, and it's what they think causes the bodies to come back. 

Most infected will crack when they move. It’s the cartilage breaking down as the bones grind together and crack as they’re weakened from the marrow out. They twitch like rabid animals, unable to keep masterful control of their bodies because they are run like puppets from the brain stem. You don’t know if they think. If somehow the people they used to be are still in there, unable to stop themselves from consuming and spreading the virus to others. All you really know is that they twitch and click, functions of the brain that still remain. Tiny impulses sent through the synapses. You imagine it to be like the way you twitch when you sleep, an arm here or a leg there, the way someone might call out with their voice to a room with no one in it. 

Maybe the infected think they’re dreaming. A nightmare that they never wake up from, like those of us who have to put them down. You could see it as a mercy from that perspective. You have an easier time rationalizing putting a knife in someone’s skull if you convince yourself that they’re silently begging for it. 

Katsuki shifts his weight and looks at you. He mouths the words no guns and you nod, briefly wondering where the fuck he thinks you could have gotten a gun from. 

Then, you kick off and run with Katsuki towards the infected. They don’t really have time to begin moving towards you both. You’re faster than them, but you hear the crack of their legs as they stand from their crouched positions, pulled in at the idea of their next meal.

Katsuki takes the farther one, sinking the knife into the soft spot of its temple with relative ease. You switch yourself off and take the one closest only a few moments later, sending your blade through the top of its skull. That happens to you when you have to do this. You turn yourself off for a bit, just so that you don’t have to remember the way it feels to hit the soft part of someone’s brain. You didn’t used to do that, only starting when you realized that there’s no going through this world anymore without it. 

Katsuki wipes the blood on his pants. It’s brown, no longer oxygenated, and the area around you begins to reek. You notice, but for some reason the smell of decomposition doesn’t register in your brain and you continue on behind him. 

There are a few beats of silence, save for twigs breaking under your feet, before Katsuki speaks up. 

“You okay?” It’s barely above a whisper and you wouldn’t have caught it were you not listening for the distinctive crack of human bones. 

“Yeah,” you say, continuing forward. 

The campsite rounds into view and in this light, with your full night’s sleep under your belt, you can see just how pitiful it looks. A tent that you’d hastily put up before nightfall, the remains of your stamped out fire, the folding chair which has since been knocked over, and your weapons on the floor covered by a few leaves disturbed by the wind. 

You snatch them up and move to grab your backpack out of the tent. The inside is shitty too and your torn sleeping bag hadn’t even been rolled out yet. You pick up the bag, returning to the folding chair as Katsuki begins to take down the tent. The polyester and nylon blend zips together as he makes quick work of folding it. Then, he kicks some dry brush over the remains of the fire, like he’s covering your tracks. 

“The next person that comes through here might not be alone,” he says plainly. “And they may have more bullets than you did.” 

“Right,” you respond. Your voice sounds a little far off and you settle your backpack on your shoulder in one quick motion. 

“Got everything?” 

You nod, following him as he heads out in the direction you both came from. The two of you pass the bodies of the infected you’d killed. The smell has permeated the air, lingering like how it does in cities, only less pungent. Their fogged eyes stare blankly at nothing, expressions plain and unreadable. You pass and try not to think much about it. 

Katsuki is a few feet ahead of you and he doesn’t glance back to make sure you’re following. You could leave now and never get attached to these people. You could head off in another direction and never have to think twice about it. No more worrying about who you could lose, about who’s next to become one of the sick masses. Just you by yourself. Then, when you finally kick the can, someone else can put you down the way you did to those strangers. 

Is there really a point to it anymore? To community or living in general. No one is as they once were. Does that make it fantasy to live in their beautiful bubble? Could you even find it in yourself to pretend again, to make nice and play house in that place? They saved your life, sure. They fed you, clothed you, bathed you, but for what point? Tomorrow, you could end up back in the woods, lighting fires with twigs you found in the brush, paranoid that someone would find you or the fire would spread. 

You watch Katsuki’s back as he moves, shoulders shifting with each step. His shirt is stained, white turned eggshell from the wear and tear of time. It seems so off to you that he looks relatively clean, like he lives well. 

Fear strikes you as you realize that your rambling thoughts have merit. Anything you fear now has become real and loss is so tangible to you that you can squeeze it in your hand. They could turn you out. Tomorrow night you could begin the starve and step all over again, moving from place to place, talking to yourself, filling your hours with paranoid thoughts like these that plague you when you’re alone. Is that worse than loss? If you’re alone long enough, you’d probably forget what you’re missing. Losing anyone else could make the wound fresh. For now, the hunger wins out. 

Katsuki jogs ahead of you to get to the house. Momo is on the porch waving him in and he hurries up the steps and bursts through the front door. As you approach, you can hear voices, some of which are relieved, others hurried. When you enter the room, you find a man standing there whom you’ve never seen before, Shoto maybe. 

“A plus one,” the man looks up, tilting his head at you in an odd way. 

“Katsuki’s,” Kiri says with a low smirk. 

Shoto’s eyes widen as he peers at his friend, clutching what looks like an injured shoulder. Katsuki just huffs his irritation. 

“Well, that’s rare,” Shoto says. 

“What’s rare?” Katsuki spits. “They were in the woods with a fire. What was I supposed to do? Let ‘em die?” 

“Maybe,” Shoto says, a light smile creeping onto his features. Then, he turns to you. “What’s your name?” 

You give it to him and he nods his head, tilting it at you again. 

“How long are you staying?”

You’re not sure how to answer that question. In fact, no one is, and it feels like more of a test than it does a genuine inquiry. Kiri and Mina exchange a glance and Katsuki tosses a somewhat dirty look towards Shoto. Ochako gives Shoto a knowing glance and Sero and Denki shift uncomfortably on their feet. Then, Momo clears her throat, spurring Izuku to say something. 

“Shoto,” he says. “You’re probably hungry, you should eat something and lay down. Ochako? Could you take a look at his shoulder?” 

“Sure,” the girl says softly, giving a closed mouth smile to Shoto as she takes him by the arm. 

She glances at you as she passes, almost like she’s too embarrassed to look at you fully in the face. You suppose this is what happens when people are forced to think about whether or not they will potentially leave someone else to die. It’s like the trolley cart question and though in this case there is always the possibility of a better outcome, it’s not likely in this world. 

“Just until I’m rested,” you add with a small tilt of your head. “A few days.” 

Shoto looks at you over his shoulder and gives you a small smile. It’s funny, you can see kindness there. His actions aren’t kind, but you can feel that he has kindness in him, though his rudeness stems from something different than Katsuki’s, you think. Like he’s strange in some way. 

“I’ll start on dinner,” Sero says. “Kiri, give me a hand.” 

The group disperses and you head upstairs without speaking to anyone else. A few days to rest and then cut the first people you’ve spoken to in weeks loose. What sort of idiot gives up something like this to avoid a little awkwardness? Not that you necessarily had your mind made up. You wonder briefly if you’ve just sealed your own tomb. 

—

After dinner, you go upstairs to sleep after eating as much as they would offer you. Your stomach has ceased its constant growling and the shakiness that comes with hunger has receded almost entirely into the background. The bed is soft, with a slight dent in it from whoever slept in here before. The thought unsettles you that they’re probably dead now, but you try to push it from your mind as you steel yourself for what comes within the next few days. 

You had volunteered yourself to leave. To what? Save yourself the embarrassment of pleading? Did you even want to plead? Why are you regretting not asking to stay? These people don’t know you, what trust can you have built with them in only a few days? Your skin crawls at the expanse of possibilities in front of you after so many weeks without any. 

You think that if you let yourself walk away, you’ll probably die. You’re out of bullets and don’t know where to find any food except by luck. You can try to catch prey, but prey hides whenever infected are around, and they’re everywhere nowadays. It’s spring, water wouldn’t be a problem, but running water has its clear comforts. Then, there’s the possibility of loss. You’d come to care for these people if you stayed, you know it. 

You furrow your eyebrows and look at the ceiling. There’s really no choice to be made. You’ll let them make it for you, even if you don’t know them. It’s their house and you won’t walk in uninvited or try to take it. You’re not about to become a monster just because the world is full of them now.

The darkness grows and your eyes drift to the dim light wandering in under the crack of the door. Hushed voices whisper in the living room, you can hear them. It’s a heated discussion, lively, but deliberately quiet. It’s been hours since everyone went to bed, yet you get the impression that many people are chiming in. You’re too nosey to leave it be. 

You open the bedroom door silently, turning the cool knob with a wince as it clicks out of place. When you peer into the hallway, every upstairs bedroom door is open with the room empty. The light is coming from down stairs and around the corner, and you can see shadows move as you inch closer to the source. 

You pause at the top of the stairs, knowing that they creak, and crouch by the bannister to listen. You’re out of sight. The only way they’d know you’re listening is if you made a sound, but you won’t. You’re good at being quiet. 

“We don’t even know them,” someone says in a rushed whisper. “We don’t know what they’ve done before.” 

“Everyone’s done things they’re not proud of now, Shoto,” a woman adds. It’s Mina. She’s spoken enough to you that you recognize her voice. 

“I agree with Shoto,” says another woman, her voice higher pitched. She sounds guilty and her voice is tight as she speaks “We have no clue who they are. They could be dangerous.” 

“You mean like me, Ochako?” A man adds. “I could have been dangerous.” 

The group grows quiet for a moment. 

“No,” Momo says. You recognize the cadence of her voice. “Shoto might be right, Denki. It’s been nearly six months since you got here and the world has changed a lot. We don’t- we can’t know for sure.”

“Can we really know anything for sure?” Another man adds, Kiri.

“What about you guys?” Shoto says, presumably to the rest of the group. 

“I don’t know.”

“I’m hesitant, but I don’t know either.”  

“Jesus,” another man with a baritone voice, harsher than the rest. That’s Katsuki, the first voice you’d heard of the group. “You guys make me a little sick.” 

“That’s not fair,” Ochako says. 

“No,” he interrupts. “It is fair. You guys want to… what? Send them back out there to die?” 

“It’s not like that,” Shoto says.  

“It is like that,” he says, raising his voice and then lowering it back to a whisper. “You didn’t see them when they got here, Shoto. They- they didn’t look… shit. The rest of you, you saw them. You really want to send them back out there to fuckin’ waste away? I don’t know about you all, but I won’t do that to a person.” 

There’s a pregnant pause.

“Katsuki’s right,” Izuku says with a bit of conviction, like he’s finally made up his mind. “Sending someone out there alone is a death sentence. How does doing that make us any better than the people we’re trying to protect ourselves from?” 

“What if there are more of them?” Ochako says quietly. “What if they’re not alone?” 

“Trust me,” Katsuki says, “They were alone.” 

“But what if they’re not?” She insists at a whisper, a bit of shame creeping into her voice. “What if people come for us?” 

“See?” Shoto says gently. “There are so many what-ifs.” 

“That works the other way too,” Mina adds. 

You don’t listen to hear the rest of their conversation. They’re going to run themselves in circles debating about you. They’ll go around and around and land on whichever argument ends with the most votes. They’ll convince each other of one thing and it will happen totally out of your control. 

The bedroom door shuts with a low click that makes you wince again. You think about the people who went to bat for you and the people who didn’t. You don’t blame those who opposed. You’d have probably reacted similarly if your old group were still alive and you understand very clearly why they do it. One person’s stupid reaction can be catastrophic and they don’t know enough about you to be certain that you’re not one of those stupid people. It’s how the world went to shit in the first place and though nine months ago you’d have surely condemned someone for making the same decision, you know that fear has warped humanity beyond comprehension. You didn’t get it until you lived it. 

Still, Katsuki’s humanity feels intact somehow, more so than yours at least. His response is something you probably never would have said under the same conditions and you can’t help but feel some sort of fondness bloom in you for him. Call it connection, gratefulness for his willingness to stick his neck out for you, a trauma response. You still feel it. Mina and Kiri had said that Katsuki was a good judge of character and that’s why they were willing to back him. You wonder briefly if maybe Katsuki sees something in you that you don’t recognize in yourself anymore, or maybe something you don’t expect other people to recognize. What is it that he wants so badly to protect? 

Someone stomps down the hallway, heavy boots against the old creaky floors. You hear the steps recede down the hallway, maybe a door or two down, before it shuts quickly. The sound makes you wince and you listen as the house grows quiet and then hums quietly with the sound of others coming upstairs a few moments later. Someone pads to the end of the hall, pushing the door open. 

You hear a woman’s voice, so muffled that you can’t make out what she’s saying. Then, you hear the sound of a man’s affirmation before the bedroom door shuts and the visitor moves back down the hall to a separate bedroom. Information passing through the house. 

Someone is moving around in a room below you and you figure that there are probably bedrooms downstairs as well. From the outside, you’d never guess that the place could house ten people. Inside though, the bedrooms are small. That’s probably why so many can fit. You’d guess that the place used to have multiple generations living in it, or maybe even rented out rooms to people for a few months. It sort of has a boarding house feel to it, like many people have come and gone even before people stopped staying in one place. 

That’s a good thing to call it, the boarding house. It certainly has that sort of feel to it, many of its spaces undeniably communal. 

You turn over in the bed, facing the bedroom door. The lights have gone out completely now and the house is quiet save for the occasional creak or thud from someone preparing to sleep. It’s been a long while since the sounds of living have been so prevalent near you. You’re eased by the sounds of the house settling, a familiar reminder of what living used to be. Your group had been on the road long before you lost them and the comforts of an interior are almost overwhelmingly nostalgic. You’re better rested to notice it now and shutting your eyes, you savor the feeling. 

—

“Need some help?” You say. 

Denki turns around, grease smeared across his nose where he likely wiped it with his dirty hands. He’s holding a wrench in a glove so tattered that it hardly counts as a glove anymore. He looks startled, amber eyes widening before he uses his forearm to brush stray hairs out of his face. The rest of it is pulled up into a messy ponytail, revealing the moist back of his neck. 

“Oh, sure,” he says, a bit surprised. “Do you know how generators work?” 

He crouches back over the machine and you step up behind him. 

The machine is rusted near the bottom and between the exposed winding pipes. Its paint has chipped away, leaving the weather-damaged metal open for you to see. On the side, a fan-like piece spins slowly in circles and the machine whirs and sputters softly as it… generates power, probably. 

“Not quite, but an extra pair of hands is always helpful,” you say softly, passing him a tool he’d been reaching for. “Did it break?” 

“No,” Denki says, “but it’s probably on its last legs. The thing’s almost as old as we are, probably older, so it’s good to tune it up a bunch.” 

You hum your agreement, tilting your head as you stand and watch him work. 

You’re not necessarily comfortable with Denki, but he feels like a safe person for some reason. Maybe it’s because he’s got a sort of ditzy, non-threatening vibe to him. You can almost distinctly picture him tripping over his own feet and something about that makes you feel considerably safer than someone who wouldn’t. That and he was the first person you’ve come across this morning who you don’t think distrusts you too badly. 

“Are you dodging something?” Denki smirks up at you from his crouch. 

“Who on earth would I be dodging?” you snort a bit defensively. 

“Shoto,” he says with a light smile. “He put you in a tight spot the other day.” 

“Yeah, well,” you say, glancing over your shoulder. “It wasn’t anything he didn’t have a right to ask.” 

“Right, but it sure was rude, huh?” 

Denki laughs to himself a little and you’re surprised by how easygoing he is. You subconsciously begin to categorize him with Mina and Kiri. The dichotomy of this group baffles you a bit, but you can certainly see all nine of them as a collective. Tightly knit and well acquainted with the habits of others. 

“Oh!” He exclaims, “I have something you can do for me.” 

You tilt your head. 

“There’s a bucket over there,” he says, pointing absentmindedly to a shitty plastic bucket against the side of the house. “We use the water from the creek as coolant. It’s not factory grade, but it does the trick. You wanna go fill it up and bring it back for when I’m done tuning this thing up?” 

You furrow your eyebrows, not sure where the creek he’s talking about is. 

“The creek is just over there,” he points behind the house to the edge of the treeline. “I know you can’t see it from here, but if you walk in a straight line, you’ll hit it. Katsuki should be down there too, so you can use him as a landmark.” 

When you don’t immediately answer, Denki whines a little. 

“I mean,” he says, “I’d go myself, but-” 

“I’ll do it,” you laugh a little and Denki seems surprised that you do. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I’d like to pull some weight at least while I’m here. Plus, I offered.” 

Denki mumbles his pleasure and you walk to the bucket without another word and set off in the direction Denki pointed. You’re much more willing to go out to the treeline now that you have a knife back at your side. 

The walk to the trees is longer than it looks, like how sometimes the horizon looks like something you could reach out and climb up onto. The walk stretches with each step you take and you become a little more understanding of why Denki didn’t want to do it himself. But the walk is actually pleasant, the warmth of mid May collecting evenly on your skin as the humidity grows more intense with the sun. 

You wonder what Katsuki would be doing by the creek. Maybe he’s fishing, or crouched over himself sharpening an arsenal of knives that you think he might keep in a roll attached to his belt sometimes. You’re not sure why, but Katsuki sort of has that expression to him. He’s handsome, but the scowl projects something hostile that makes him seem unapproachable. 

As you cross through the middle of the clearing, you could almost imagine that this is a normal day. Humidity collects on your skin, making you sweat a little as you dodge gopher holes and soft spots of dirt. It almost feels like summer camp, if it weren’t for the looming idea that you’re contributing to something you may not be a part of. Denki’s attitude though, has you hoping for a more favorable outcome, if you want to call it that. 

You’re only a few steps into the line of trees when the earth dips into a sand-lined ravine. The trees leave room for the sun to beat down on warmed rocks, making the area seem brighter with their subtle reflection of the light. The noise of the creek drowns out the sound of your footsteps and you shuffle toward where the earth flattens just before the water starts. A little ways to your right, you can see Katsuki sitting on a rock in the sun, his hands dipped into a large bucket. You narrow your eyes as he pulls what looks like a cloth out of the water, rubbing the fabric together before dipping it in the cool water of the creek.

As you approach, you realize what it is that he’s doing. It’s laundry. On the other side of him, you can see a bin of what look like dirty clothes and water-soaked clean ones. Talk about misjudged character. 

“Katsuki,” you say as you approach him, the bucket still empty in your hand.

He squints up at you, shifting his face so that it's in your shadow. 

“You’re still here,” he says plainly, returning to his task. 

“Clearly,” you respond, watching as he runs his fingers over the next piece of clothing in the bucket. 

“Why are you down here? Did Denki pawn the generator water onto you?” He says, like he’s somewhat frustrated. “He does that shit to anyone he can.” 

You shrug your shoulders and continue to stare at him. 

“Are you just gonna stand there?” He huffs out. 

“You’re doing laundry.” 

“Yeah?” he furrows his eyebrows and looks at you. “So?” 

“Nothing,” you say. “I just didn’t expect that.” 

“Yeah well,” he stops for a moment like he’s struggling to find the words. “It needed to be done. Figured I might as well.” 

“How progressive of you,” you joke with a straight face. 

He looks at you out of the corner of his eyes and sighs, not justifying your comment with a response. You find yourself smiling a little bit. 

“If you’re going to linger, sit down and do it,” he says. “You’re creeping me out.” 

You oblige him and sit down on a rock next to him, far enough that you’re not touching, but near enough to hear him if you speak in a low voice. For some reason, you feel a sort of kinship with Katsuki. You’d thought longer than you’d like to admit about his willingness to vouch for you and find that you want to live up to his expectation of your goodness, even if it’s not what you believe yourself to be anymore. Maybe it’s because you’ve slept well the past few nights and feel more like yourself, but there’s a certain casualness to conversing with him that you enjoy. He’s not looking at what you could be, but rather what you’re showing him that you are. His lack of doubt in that is something you find relatively attractive. 

You watch his arms out of the corner of your eye in between gazing at the treeline and the sky. Your field of vision catches on them, his sleeves cut short to expose his biceps, a bit muddied near the elbows where the mud has begun to stick. 

Katsuki doesn’t seem all that bothered by your presence, but now and then you’ll catch the sideways glance he gives you, almost like he’s trying to figure out exactly why you’re lingering. 

“How long have you been with them?” You ask, more as a way to fill the silence. 

Katsuki’s hands pause as he thinks about answering, then, they continue their steady pace. 

“A decent amount of time,” he says. “I met Izuku first, probably in November just before Mina and Kiri. The rest came later.” 

You furrow your eyebrows. 

“No offense,” you start, “but you don’t really seem like the group type.” 

“And you don’t seem like the type who’d be alone,” he retorts, like your statement was stupid. 

You press your lips into a tight line, not really knowing how to respond. 

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head a little. 

“Were you?” 

“What? Was I sorry?” He furrows his eyebrows at you. 

“No,” you shake your head. “Were you alone? Before Izuku.” 

He goes silent. You’ll take that as a yes, but you regret asking a little. It had just slipped out. If someone were to ask you something like that, you’d probably react the same way. That’s just as well, you don’t really need to know him like that anyway. 

You wonder briefly if anyone does. He seems closed off, but Mina and Kiri spoke about him a few days prior like they knew him well. Well enough at least to allude to a history you’ll likely never be privy to. Then there’s Momo, who whispers little things to him that he answers in kind. Curiosity gets the better of you, if only to tease. 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” you ask and Katsuki’s response is to rest his elbows on his knees and let out a dry laugh. 

He turns his head and looks at you from the side. “And what the fuck are you asking me that for?” 

“Just curious,” you say. “Is it Momo?” 

“Momo?” He makes a sour face at you. “Yeah, right.” 

“She’s pretty,” you say. 

“Sure is,” he responds dryly. “If you’re into the mom type.” 

“What? You’re not into moms?” You grin a little and Katsuki furrows his eyebrows at you. 

“So you do have a personality,” he scoffs a little. 

There’s a pause. You haven’t felt this in a while. The feeling of bonding with someone new, compatibility on the human level that feels nearly instant. 

“I’m kinda serious though,” you say, tilting your head down to catch his eye. “Do you?” 

You’re leaning a little closer to him now.

“You seen any nice restaurants to take a person out to these days?” he questions, clearly a little frustrated with you in the way someone gets when they’re a bit amused. 

“You don’t have to take someone out to a restaurant to fuck them, you know?” You laugh a little. 

Katsuki’s lips part and he swallows like his mouth has gone dry. 

“Yeah, well,” he starts, looking away from you. “I’m a romantic. Sue me.” 

He’s just full of surprises, isn’t he? You find that you’re captivated by this feeling, this humanity, that exists in him. It’s something alive between you both, something left behind from the old world, and you crave it the same way you crave food. 

Katsuki continues scrubbing the clothes, rubbing the fabric together and then dunking it in the bucket before plunging it into the freshwater creek. You’re not sure why you do it, but the next time he looks at you, you kiss him. 

It’s not as if you like him, but it’s something to feel. Some remnant of the butterflies you used to feel on dates and the kiss makes you feel like you could be close to human again. You pull away almost as soon as you put his lips to yours and you can tell that the expression on your face is one of surprise.

Katsuki blinks for a second, looking at you with his brows knitted together. The expression doesn’t leave him as he places a wet hand on the side of your face to kiss you again. It’s an anxious kiss, confused and slow but—like someone riding a bike for the first time in years—it quickly becomes something familiar. Muscle memory that you both let yourselves sink into. 

You can feel his expression as he kisses you, something between confusion and desire, like his own actions are perplexing. You feel the same way, hesitant, but reaching in the dark for the promise of some sort of normalcy. You want to feel like a person again. You haven’t felt it in so long and you push yourself against him as the ache swells in you. 

The two of you continue like this for a moment, Katsuki’s fingers pressing lightly into the skin of your neck. You moan softly as his tongue slips into your mouth, taking a sharp inhale at the sensation of skin on skin. The sound of the creek drowns out the clicking of your mouths, but you can feel the way he hums into your mouth. They’re little sounds, involuntary ones driven by the nervous, desirous feelings inside of you both. 

Then, Katsuki pulls away, swallowing thick as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. You appreciate the way they look. They’re swollen, anxious to continue and keep forgetting where you really are. He drops his hand from your face with a sigh and almost seems like he comes back to himself. You do the same, moving back into an upright position. 

“Denki will want that water soon,” he clears his throat and motions to the empty bucket by your feet. 

“Oh,” you say, laughing a little. “Right.” 

You stand, dusting off the back of your pants and dunking the bucket into the water. It sloshes, the liquid hitting the back of the plastic with a satisfying elastic sound. You begin to walk away without another word, heading down the way you came to climb up the gentler part of the slope. 

“Hey,” Katsuki calls softly. “You should stay. We talked it over last night. You can if you want to.” 

The last part, he says facing the wash, his hands moving as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You don’t respond, knowing that the obvious answer is already yes. 

Dread settles in your stomach. It’s an icky, swirling feeling that threatens to make you double over. You climb up the bank, the water in the bucket sloshing as you move through the trees and enter the clearing. The feeling doesn’t dissipate, growing as you leave the cover of the trees. You probably wouldn’t have kissed him if he’d asked you that earlier. 

The boarding house comes into view and you can see Denki sitting beside the generator, conversing with who appears to be Shoto. They turn and Denki waves you down, Shoto turning away and starting around for the front of the house. 

Denki jogs to meet you, taking the bucket from your hand. You flex your fingers as the weight is removed, wincing a little at how stiff they feel. 

“Jeez, what took you so long?” Denki laughs and with your new information, you understand his willingness to be friendly with you a little better. 

“I asked Katsuki for his life story,” you respond dryly, following him back to the generator. 

Denki looks over his shoulder and laughs at you. “Did he tell you?” 

You pause for a moment, watching as Denki unscrews something and pours the water in. 

“Nope,” you say. “Not a thing.”

Click Here to go to the second chapter and find the rest of the series on ao3. The remainder will not be posted on tumlbr, but please feel free to reblog!

[achilles-rage]

Good Luck Charm: Chapter 5

college football player!buck x plus size!reader

summary: the next day you meet evan at the library, where he makes you explain your actions yesterday. then, the next day, an innocent conversation almost turns into one you're both waiting for.

word count: 2.5k

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series masterlist

A/N: you guys!!! the feedback on this fic has been so overwhelming, thank you so much!!! i was gonna post a request today but since this one was a little better edited and i haven't had a lot of time today, i figured i'd post this today instead and post the request tomorrow! enjoy<333

warnings: inexperienced!reader, slight enemies to lovers??? a touch of slowburn???, no use of y/n, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

The next morning, you drag yourself out of bed. You’re really not looking forward to seeing Evan today, and it feels a little weird. You’re usually excited to see him, but you can’t push away the dread in your belly as you think about what to say to him if he asks why you were so short with him yesterday. While you do feel bad about how you treated him, your feelings about him stay the same: you don’t believe he actually likes you. You just know now that you can’t hold that against him. You can’t force him to like you back, after all.

You make your way to the fifth floor of the library, seeing that he’s already sitting at the table you both have deemed yours. You sit down without a word and start pulling your supplies out of your bag, trying to ignore the way he’s studying your movements.

As soon as you get situated, you start to open your laptop, but his hand immediately comes out to close it. He leans forward on the table in your direction, making sure part of his arm is on your laptop as he rests his chin on his fist, making sure you can’t open it and ignore his presence any further.

“Nuh uh. No assignment today. You’re gonna talk to me about what’s going on in your pretty little head.” he states, keeping his eyes soft as he looks up at you, trying not to spook you. He notices the way you’re holding your breath, closing your eyes for a moment as you gather your thoughts.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” you say softly once you open your eyes, still refusing to look him in the eye. You’re afraid you’ll tell him everything if you look in those big blue eyes. He scoffs at your words, reaching a hand out to grab your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“Princess, don’t do this. Yell at me if you want. Just don’t ignore me.” he begs you, keeping your chin in his grip as he moves his face just inches away from yours. You have so many thoughts whirring around in your head, but all you can get out with him so close is: “We shouldn’t be friends.”

“Why the hell not?” he asks defensively, his tone hardening at your words. He tightens his grip on your chin as you try to look away, not enough to hurt, but enough for you to snap your eyes back to his. 

“We have nothing in common. You play football, and you go to all the frat parties, and you get like, every single girl you want, probably. I don’t do any of that. I go to class, and when I’m not doing class work, I hang out with my roommate, or go to work.” you explain. You’re not exactly saying you don’t want to be friends, just that you don’t understand it, and he picks up on this.

“Why does that matter?” He’s desperate to understand where you’re coming from. He really sees nothing wrong with what you’re saying. Your differences are what attracted him to you in the first place, and how pretty you were, but that’s not the point.

“It just makes no sense!” you exclaim, looking around the library with wide eyes once you realize how loud it came out. “I don’t know why I thought we could be friends, or something. We should just finish this assignment, and be done with it.” you finish, voice much softer as you lean away from his touch, trying to open your laptop again.

“I don’t want that.” he says matter of factly, putting a hand over your laptop again, keeping it closed. You huff, looking back up at him, frowning slightly as you chew on the inside of your cheek.

“I didn’t ask what you wanted.” you say with as much conviction as you can. You can feel the tears slowly forming in your eyes, and you try to will them away as you hold eye contact. You’re not even sure why you’re crying, but you can feel the way his eyes are boring into you, and it feels more intimate than any of the other times he’s looked at you.

“Why don’t I get a say in this? You think that just because we don’t have anything in common, there’s no reason for us to hang out? Well, I don’t agree. I like hanging out with you. I wanna keep hanging out with you, even when we’re done with this stupid assignment. I don’t care about any of the stuff you just said, alright? Now, please don’t shut me out.” he says angrily, jaw clenched.

He can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. He doesn’t understand where it’s coming from; how does this have anything to do with his conversation with Sabrina? He thought he was finally wearing you down, and it makes his chest contract in an odd way as he takes in your tense body language. 

“I just don’t understand.” you trail off, looking down as you see the anger creeping onto his face. You aren’t trying to upset him, you just aren’t sure what else to say without explaining your feelings for him.

“I don’t care. You don’t have to understand. You just have to know that you’re not getting rid of me that easily. I like seeing your pretty face everyday.” he whispers the last part, nudging your elbow softly on the table, giving you a soft smile. 

“Okay.” you mumble after a moment, feeling a smile fighting its way onto your face. You can’t help it. Everytime he calls you pretty, your heart races and you can’t help but fidget with your hands.

“Is that a smile?” he teases, ducking his head, trying to get a better look at your face, still angled down at the table. You shake your head, but a soft laugh escapes your throat, betraying you. He smirks at this, tongue trailing the inside of his cheek as his eyes glance to your lips for a moment before going back to your eyes.

“There she is. You’re gorgeous, you know that?” he tells you softly, trying to ease you back out of your shell. He’s picked up on the way you get all shy when he compliments you, and he figures this is the fastest way for you to get back to how you two were before. Your eyes dart up to his, shaking your head with a small smile.

“Let’s get to work.” you whisper, pushing his hand off your laptop and opening it. He straightens his back as he stops leaning on the table, feeling giddy as he sees you slowly letting him back in.

“Yes ma’am.” he mumbles back, opening his own laptop.

The next day, you’re standing in the hall with a girl you’ve had a few classes with, a small container open between the two of you as you offer her a cookie. You have to get rid of them somehow; you baked way more than you and your roommate could eat. After a few minutes, you both say goodbye and she goes into her class.

As soon as she walks away Evan walks up to you, quickly snatching a cookie from the container before you can put the lid back on. You smile once you realize it’s him, lowering the lid of the container as you keep the cookies between the both of  you.

He winks at you as he takes a bite, then lets out a loud moan, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as the taste hits his tongue. A high pitched laugh escapes your throat at the noise, and you reach out and swat him with the container lid gently, looking around at the other people in the hall who are now staring at both of you.

“Did you make these?” he asks once he swallows, opening his eyes and looking back down at you. You nod, laughing softly. “God. How do you not have a boyfriend?”

“Just lucky, I guess.” you tease softly, face growing hot. He shoves the rest of the cookie in his mouth, humming softly as he chews. You laugh again at his actions, shaking your head at his puffed out cheeks full of food. As he chews, his mind races at your words. Now he’s picturing you as a girlfriend. His girlfriend. How you’d be around him. How he’d be able to touch you whenever he wanted. It’s urging him to make a move on you sooner rather than later.

After he finishes the cookie, he looks down at you, eyes softening slightly as he speaks with a more serious tone. It’s now or never, he thinks.

“Seriously, though. Why?” You shrug, pursing your lips, nervously. You think you know why, but you really don’t want to explain to this attractive man exactly why you think so.

“I don’t know. Guys don’t really approach me much.” you tell him softly, eyes darting around the hallway as you notice that most people have filed into different classrooms.

“And have you thought that you’d have more success finding a guy who likes you if you didn’t bite the head off of every guy that approaches you, princess?” he teases, referencing the first time you met. You laugh softly, shaking your head. “My attitude has nothing to do with it.” you tell him, voice getting softer as you keep talking. The way he’s staring so intently at you has your stomach doing flips, and you can feel your mouth go dry as he speaks.

“Oh, really? You’re stubborn and feisty towards anyone giving you an ounce of attention, and yet you can’t figure out why no guys stick around long enough to appreciate you?” You purse your lips at his words, taking in the smirk stuck on his face as he teases you.

“I’m not like that around other people.” you admit sheepishly, shrugging your shoulders. His eyes widen slightly at this. He’s so used to you arguing with him that he almost can’t believe that you’re not like this with everyone. “Then why were you so defensive towards me? Why were you in attack mode when I first started talking to you?” he asks after a moment, his smirk widening as your eyes dart around nervously.

“You drive me crazy.” you whisper, as if it was that simple, eyes focused on your hands as you put the lid back on your container. It’s true, he does. He just doesn’t need to know it’s because he’s so attractive it makes your head spin.

“Is that so?” he matches your tone, taking another step closer to you. He’s pretty sure he knows why now; with your nervous expression and your fidgeting. He just wants you to say it. 

“Yes.” you whisper, swallowing as you raise your chin to look up at him

“And why is that, Princess? Why do I drive you crazy?” he continues, waiting for you to admit it.

“I don’t know.” you lie, letting out a shaky breath. You’re sure now that he knows everything. You’re really not doing a good job at hiding anything from him, but you’re so nervous and out of your element that you’re not sure what to do.

“No, I think you do. You’re just too embarrassed to admit it. Go ahead, tell me why I have you so riled up.” You can barely focus on his words as you look up at his face; you’re so overwhelmed by how close he is. You can’t help your eyes glancing down at his lips for a split second before moving back up to his eyes, mind blank as you try to slow your racing heart.

He notices your eyes trailing down to his lips quickly and his smirk grows wider. His eyes glace down to your lips as he takes a deep inhale, deciding that now is his chance. 

Just as he’s about to lower his lips to yours, someone drops their phone, a loud sound echoing through the hallway you’re in. It causes you both to snap out of the world where only you two exist. You jump slightly, then look away, blinking slowly as he clears his throat. 

Fuck, he thinks, the moment is now completely ruined. He barely has time to react before you look back up at him, your brain catching up to the events that just occurred.

“Don’t you have class right now?” you ask him softly. You can’t believe you thought he was going to kiss you. He’s probably flirty with every girl. Maybe he just doesn’t know how to turn off the charm? Your face grows hot as you think about it, waiting for him to respond.

“Uh, yeah, yeah. I guess I’ll, uh, go,” His shoulders deflate slightly as he responds to you. Maybe he had read you wrong, maybe you didn’t want to kiss him. He doesn’t want to push you any further, so he decides it’s better for him to just go. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nod, smiling softly, but he can see the nervousness written on your face. He gives you a small smile back and steps away, trying to give you your space. He feels like a complete douchebag, he feels like he almost just forced himself onto you. He’s picked up on your shy demeanor over the last few weeks, and he had assumed it was because of him, but now he thinks that maybe you’re just that shy around everyone else.

He says goodbye before walking away, and you let out a shaky breath once he does, still reeling from how close he was to you.

“Morning, princess.” he says as he sits down at the table the next morning, chuckling as he notices that you’re already almost done your coffee. He knows that you get coffee in the morning on campus before coming here, and he figures today has been a rough morning, as you’ve basically chugged the whole thing already. You greet him softly, taking your eyes off your laptop and meeting his gaze. 

“I accidentally submitted my pre-edited assignment to my professor. He emailed me this morning and asked why my essay was titled ‘Why Macbeth is a Whiny Little Bitch.’” you say, your face hot with embarrassment. Evan’s eyes widen, and he can’t help the loud laugh that escapes his throat, which makes the smile you were fighting erupt on your face.

“How the hell did you do that?” he asks through his laughter, and you shake your head, pursing your lips at his reaction.

“The un-edited one and the edited one were right beside each other, I clicked the wrong one.” you say, finally letting out a small laugh at your misfortune. You’re very lucky your professor is one of the most laid back ones you’ve had, and your assignments are usually very well done.

He continues laughing, and asks why you named it that, which sends you into a small rant about the Shakespeare play. 

As you explain, it’s almost as if your almost-kiss is forgotten about, or at least, the awkward events that happened after it are. You’re talking to him without feeling weird at all, and he has that stupid smirk on his face as he flirts with you again. It feels natural, and neither of you think too much about what almost happened, lost in how good it feels to be around each other.

next chapter

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[torukmaktoskxawng]

'anla - part eight (finale)

Series Masterlist

Summary: Y/n and Ao'nung's future is revealed as Pandora is thrown into war.

Pairing: Ao'nung/Fem!Na'vi!Sully Reader

Warnings: Fluff, romance, mentions of mating, implied sexual content, injury, mentions of birth, mentions of death, etc. (I'd considered NSFW but for only, like, three or four paragraphs)

posted on ao3

Word Count: 6k+

Tag: #'anla ao'nung fic

Na'vi Words: Iknimaya - Rite of Passage, tsurak - skimwing, Sänrr Rong - Glow Tunnel, marui - house/pod, nga yawne lu oer - I love you, kuru/tswin - queue braid, tsaheylu - the bond, ilu - plesiosaur like animal, ma muntxate - my mate/spouse/wife, olo'eyktan - clan leader, tsahik - spiritual leader, sa'sem - parents, ikran - mountain banshee, pa'li - horse like animal, olo'eykte - female clan leader, ma'txe'lan - my heart, tulkun - whale like animal

Taglist (bold indicates "could not tag"): @bangtanxberm @aonungmyaddiction @lv9su @aisselasstuff @yourusername1 @amortencjja @king-julian6201 @gg-trini @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @mikeyswifie @heart-an0n @iloveavatar @urdads-gf  @kentfisherswifee6 @sakurayuki8655-blog @ken-zah @nilrilie @g-l-1-t-c-h-3-r @iovemoonyy @sopluto @frvv

A/N: As my first attempt at writing for Avatar comes to a close, I want to thank everyone on ao3 and tumblr for the breathtaking support for this series! I could not have continued without your love for this fic and it only makes me want to write more for this fandom and for you!

THREE YEARS LATER...

The war against the Sky People ended up spreading across all of Pandora. More clans got involved and the Na'vi grew in numbers, rallying to the call of Toruk Makto. Jake was a soldier by heart, and he knew, deep in his gut, that this war would be his last, win or lose, and hopefully, it would be the last defense against the Sky People once and for all. He was determined to make this world clean, free of war, and with a future far brighter for his remaining children. Although, they weren't considered children anymore.

Jake Sully, as a soldier, knew that wars could drag on for years, and his own war was no exception. In order to secure a future for his children, he had to sacrifice watching said children grow up right out from under his nose.

Y/n and Lo'ak were quick to grow up. Blink and you would have missed it. After Neteyam was killed, they assumed the role of older siblings and didn't hesitate to take charge and take responsibility in the upcoming battles. Jake found it difficult to accept them as warriors and send them off to fight so soon after Neteyam, but he didn't have much of a choice. He needed every able-body out there, and by Na'vi law, his oldest daughter and son were fully grown and of the People.

It didn't help that Ao'nung and Tsireya were now in the picture and the Sully family now extended to them. Jake nearly felt blindsided that the very children he had known since birth fell in love with the son and daughter of the Metkayina clan leaders. After discovering Ao'nung and Y/n's courtship, Jake helplessly watched as Lo'ak quickly completed his Iknimaya and began to court Tsireya as well. Jake was relieved to see that both Ao'nung and Y/n waited on becoming mates, but they had waited for a different reason entirely. If it weren't for the war, they would have done so much sooner.

The Sky People didn't wait as long to retaliate against the Na'vi like they did last time. The humans fought back without giving the Metkayina much room to breathe, so in favor of fighting back, everything was put on hold, including Y/n's courtship with Ao'nung. Toruk Makto had hoped that they would wait until the end of the war, but as he said before, wars sometimes last years, and even Jake knew that war sometimes brought people closer together just as often as it drove them apart. The clans scattered around Pandora were no exception. 

Other Na'vi clans, even the more violent ones, were starting to answer Jake's call to war, agreeing to many peace treaties in exchange for eradicating the Sky People once and for all. While Jake was elsewhere, rallying other clans at his disposal, the Metkayina had a brief window of peace while waiting for reinforcements, and many took advantage of this time to be with their loved ones before war forced them apart once more. 

Ao'nung and Y/n were among those who took advantage of this. Slipping away and into the night, they grab their tsurak and take off. Ao'nung brings her to Sänrr Rong with the promise of surprising his love. The Glow Tunnel greets her favorite guests with the same beautiful, bioluminescent archway... but there was a new sight that Y/n had never seen before. Her mouth opened in a silent gasp at the sight of a small raft with a marui built on top, floating beneath the arch, rocking steadily along the small waves caused by their approach. It was simple but elegant, the mouth of the pod leading out to a small, wooden lookout. To avoid floating away, the top of the marui was tied up against the wall of the tunnel.

Ao'nung watched Y/n's reaction with a proud grin, "I made it myself."

"It is beautiful," she whispered breathlessly, "Thoughtful."

The tsurak swam up to the marui and waited until their riders had pushed themselves up onto the platform before swimming away. Ao'nung and Y/n both stood on the floating platform, craning their necks to look up at the very top of the archway, marveling at the ceiling of glowing algae all around them. They could have stayed that way for hours, Ao'nung standing behind Y/n, arms wrapped steadily around her as they continued to enjoy their small little haven, no war at the moment to speak of, just them and their Sänrr Rong.

"Ao'nung."

"Hm?"

"I am done waiting."

He tilted his head back down to the young woman in his arms, her siren eyes already waiting for him there. She didn't miss the small glimmer of hope in his eyes that he forced himself to stomp down as he gently moved her until she fully faced him, his hands now resting on either side of her head. He made her look directly at him, but she wouldn't have fought it. She would gladly look at him forever if she had a choice. His eyes flicked over her gaze, trying to spot any sign of doubt or hesitancy,

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," she answered without wasting a moment between breaths, leaning into his hands, "I want you to be mine and I want to be yours. For life."

His smile is unlike any other, so bright and joyful as if she had just given him the world. He leaned down to kiss her cheek, whispering into her skin, "I have always been yours... even when I didn't know it."

"I know," a faint smile etched into her lips, leaning into his kiss, "But I'm done holding back for the sake of war and our families. We've been courting for years now. Please don't make me wait any longer."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he chuckles under his breath, guiding the both of them to kneel across from each other on the wooden platform. Keeping his hands on her face, he quickly lands a soft kiss on her lips, "Nga yawne lu oer."

"I love you, too," she whispered, heart hammering in her chest like it never had before.

"Say the word, Forest Girl, and I'm yours."

"Please."

She whimpered quietly when he leaned away but the excitement took over when he had reached back to pull his kuru braid from over his shoulder. Y/n did so as well, reaching out for him with her free hand. She let out a breathy laugh when Ao'nung took it a step further and used his free arm to lift her up into his lap, pulling her flush against him as if they were already one soul. But it wasn't enough. Y/n squirmed at the thought of being even closer, more than they'd ever been before. With their queues in hand, they both held their breath as the tswin slowly began to entangle with each other, and the reactions they made when the tendrils completely tied together were instantaneous. 

Y/n tilted her head up as the air left her lungs, overcome by this new feeling, able to sense Ao'nung everywhere in her mind and body. His torso, pressed tightly against hers, expanded harshly when he breathed out, and through their bond, Y/n was able to feel his arousal when his nose detected her scent. She instinctively clung to him at the thought, her excitement spreading out through their new bond as she wrapped both of her arms around his neck. Ao'nung's hands slide up her whole spine, driving her to arch her back, goosebumps prickling her skin under his touch like electricity. When she finally leaned down to kiss him, the electricity came together in sparks. 

Before she knew it, Y/n was on her back, Ao'nung's weight pressed comfortably between her legs. Comforting and enticing. That is what she felt with his weight on hers, pressing her down against the wooden platform of the floating raft, all her senses filled with Ao'nung and nothing but him. It made her feel complete, whole again for the first time in her entire life. It was both overwhelming and not enough, and Ao'nung could feel that through their shared bond. He fitted himself over her, letting her wrap both of her arms and legs around him until there wasn't even room for air between their bodies. Pleasure began to spike through her when Ao'nung began to touch her, her womb warm with love and anticipation, tightening like a spring as their conjoined bodies began to rock in motion with the waves beneath their raft.

She wasn't sure when she had closed her eyes, but upon opening them again, she could see why Ao'nung hadn't brought her inside the marui for this. On her back, as they made love, she was able to watch the glowing algae twinkle down at her from the ceiling of the archway with awe. That, along with the pleasure Ao'nung brought her, his head buried in her neck, muffling his moans, Y/n felt as though she was floating over clouds, ascending into the equivalent of heaven. Wave after wave of pleasure, coming and receding, edging her to several gently, toe-curling climaxes. 

It may not have been before Eywa or any Spirit Tree most couples would become one under, but here-- in the place they truly fell in love and spent a great deal of time together, it just made sense. This was their place after all. When Ao'nung finally met her in ecstasy, finishing inside her, it was both dizzying and perfect all at once. Hearing her name fall from his lips as they both peaked, Y/n was nearly brought to tears with the amount of love she had for this man. She was excited to spend the rest of her life with him.

They continued to lay there in the afterglow, still connected through the bond, too exhausted to move or have Ao'nung pull out. Y/n knew she wouldn't be able to take his weight forever, but as of right now, she was comfy, and the pleasant sounds he made in her neck when her fingers combed through his hair were just as enticing as tsaheylu. 

"I wish we had done this sooner." She sighed, mourning all the time they could have been truly together without a care in the world.

"I'm not," Ao'nung plants a kiss on a sensitive part in the juncture of her neck, forming goosebumps wherever he touched her, "It may not have been as perfect as it is now if we had mated sooner."

"That is true," her arms tighten around his back, "It was worth the wait."

He brings his head up to hover over hers, her heart stuttering in her chest when her eyes meet his. Ao'nung smiled similarly to when they were younger and just starting to become friends. He smiled like when he first approached her on ilu, inviting her to see Sänrr Rong for the first time. He looked so young again. It wasn't as though a lot of time had passed and they were old, no, but war ages people far more than time could. As children of war, Ao'nung and Y/n were no exception. They had a few scars here and there, and as time and war dragged on, they were given more warrior tattoos to signify their valiant deeds, both along their faces and bodies. They were all grown up, old enough to notice the difference between now and when they first met on that beach several years ago.

Ao'nung leaned down again, placing several kisses all along her face, "Ma muntxate. Ma Y/n."

He whispered those words like confessions-- like he was testing them out on his tongue for the first time and he liked how they sounded. Her eyelashes fluttered while she basked in his attention, equally delighted by her new name as he continued to bathe her in kisses and confessions, "I cannot wait to spend our futures together."

She hums thoughtfully, her mind reverting to realistic goals and expectations, "I suppose we should discuss plans for our future. In case we survive the war."

"When we survive, Forest Girl. When."

"Alright. When we survive," her fingers trace one of his face tattoos, staring down at his lips, "Tell me what you want."

"I think I would like to build a different marui for us, and I want to stay there even when I am olo'eyktan."

"Hm." This request surprised her, "Your father's home is not to your liking?"

"It's in the center of the village. I never liked it there," he hid his face back in her neck, grumbling to himself, "I like it a lot less now at the idea of having to share you with the whole clan."

She snorts quietly, "No need for that. The clan would be better off having your sister as their tsahik than me."

"If that is what you want."

"It is."

"Alright, but I still want a separate marui. My sister can have our sa'sem's when she is tsahik. I know she wants a large family, so it's perfect for her future."

"And what about us? What kind of family do we want?"

Ao'nung hums in thought, "I chose what we should do for our home. You can choose what kind of family shall live in it."

Y/n taps her chin while staring up at the ceiling of the glowing archway, "I don't want a big family. Just one or two babies."

"Could I convince you for three?" He playfully nipped her neck, grinning to himself when a laugh was forced out of her lungs.

Her laugh reverted to soft hums while her hands resumed running through his hair, "Three. And no more than that."

~~~~~~~~~

Once they returned to the village the following afternoon, they were shocked to learn that Lo'ak and Tsireya had wasted no time in mating as well. The entire clan was overjoyed to learn that Tonowari and Ronal's two oldest children had found happiness during this small window of calm before the storm. Neytiri cried out of joy for her children while Kiri and Spider gave their siblings shit-eating grins when they noticed a few teeth marks on the two new couples. Tuk and Kailani just gagged at how sappy their older siblings looked.

When Jake returned to the Metkayina with an army, he found out his eldest daughter and son had found mates. It was like someone had completely tilted Pandora's axis right underneath his feet. Before Toruk Makto could even get used to the idea, he now had a son and a daughter-in-law. The Sullys' bond with the Metkayina had never been stronger.

While Y/n and Lo'ak had found partners, Kiri was focused on becoming the best healer, and Spider was more determined to make himself an active member of the family every day, never again accepting himself as just a stray cat. As for Tuk, the baby of the family, Jake and Neytiri's youngest... well, she had only just begun to start hunting both on land and at sea. And before Jake could manage to wrap his head around that, the Sky People quickly returned, so he didn't have time to think. Instead, he acted, refusing to run again in the hopes of saving his family. This time, his family stood its ground and fought right alongside him.

Like before, the Na'vi still managed to draw the Sky People back to Bridgehead by just the skin of their teeth, and there was a brief window for the respective clans to grieve for their loss and take their small window of peace before the next war made itself known. Everyone knew that the biggest threat was yet to come, and they would need to recruit more Na'vi. Jake wasn't going to take any chances this time, not when he had more to lose.

Not only were his children growing up and marrying off, but they had begun to start families of their own. After the most recent battle, Y/n had found out she was expecting. The Metkayina took this small moment of peace to celebrate the tsahik's and olo'eyktan's first grandchild, overjoyed by Eywa's gift for their recent victory against the Sky People. Neytiri laughed even as she was holding Jake back from trying to kill Ao'nung, joyful tears in her eyes at the realization that her first baby girl was going to have a baby of her own soon. While Jake entrusted both Spider and Lo'ak to give Ao'nung a stern talking to, he took a moment to let the news sink in, still surprised that he was going to be a grandfather.

Even with a baby on the way, Y/n wasn't deterred from fighting. There was still a fire in her eyes that would only grow larger as time went on. Y/n had a reason to fight the Sky People. At first, it was to avenge her twin brother, knowing that Quaritch and Wainfleet were still out there after Spider confessed to saving his biological father. The monsters responsible for Neteyam's death were still alive, and Y/n wanted to fix that. And now, the idea of a child on the way only drove her further to fight, wanting to win this war quickly so that her baby had a future. While Jake wanted to order his daughter to stand down, now more than ever, Neytiri convinced him not to. Both she and Ronal are living proof that it is not hard for pregnant Na'vi to fight and Jake had to remember that Y/n wasn't human and it wouldn't be much of a struggle. Jake only gave in when he saw that same fire in his daughter ignite in his wife's matching eyes. Neytiri was just as determined to fight, if not more. Her husband could see, even with Neteyam gone, that she now had more things worth fighting for.

Even while pregnant, Y/n was still one of the best warriors Jake had on his side. She was still one of the best flyers and best archers, just like her mother. While she wasn't stupid enough to do up close combat in her condition, Y/n still fought her battles from afar, astride her faithful ikran, Evi, and a bow in hand. She flew over every battlefield, whether on land or by sea, her watchful eyes always pinpointing her loved ones out among all the fighting. Y/n tended to fly close to wherever Payakan might be, knowing that Lo'ak would never leave his Spirit Brother vulnerable during the fight. Y/n made sure to always have her little brother's back so that he may protect Payakan, shooting down any sky demon who dared to try killing Lo'ak whenever his back was turned.

Sometimes, depending on where they were on the battlefield, Spider would fly with his sister over the years as the war dragged on. He was a skilled archer as well, and so he often flew with Y/n to scope out dangers from above, since he wasn't entirely capable of fighting for the Na'vi without his own pa'li or tsurak. And if Spider wasn't flying with Y/n, he was flying with Kiri, keeping his best friend safe when she wasn't much of a fighter. Jake was always at peace knowing Kiri would be safe as long as Spider was with her.

Wars came and went, and victories and losses on both sides happened, but Jake believed he got the best victory of all when he got to hold his granddaughter for the first time. Y/n and Ao'nung named her Sìla immediately after she was born instead of waiting to announce it to the rest of the village. They didn't have much of a choice, as the village had been compromised after the latest battle, and unfortunately, everyone needed to evacuate. But after they had all made it to safety, Jake had the honor of being the first to hold Sìla in his arms with the exception of her parents. She was Metkayina, through and through, but even newly born, Jake could see hints of eyebrow hair and an extra finger on each hand, hidden by the infant's clenched fists, physical traits that she no doubt inherited from her mother and her grandfather. Despite forgoing tradition, the clans rejoiced at the first signs of new life in the midst of war.

But Sìla would be the only one born into war. Not long after her birth, her parents and all the other Na'vi managed to eradicate the rest of the Sky People before they could fly back to Earth or call for reinforcements. Again, Jake wasn't taking any chances. With his granddaughter now born, he was just as determined to ensure that the Sky People never returned... for good this time.

With peace finally reaching all corners of Pandora, the Sully family continued to grow. Lo'ak and Tsireya were now expecting a child, and Tuk was now old enough to choose a mate if she so wished. Neither Kiri nor Spider appeared interested in growing families of their own, but Jake was fine with that if that meant he could still have some of his own children to himself. Sìla had only just started to swim and walk on her own when Ao'nung and Y/n announced they were expecting again, and the celebration outweighed the upcoming sadness. Tonowari was heavily wounded in the final battle against the Sky People and was slowly succumbing to his injuries. He had let go and joined Eywa in his sleep after he was told more grandchildren were on the way. Knowing he was at peace, the Metkayina celebrated his life instead of grieving over him, thankful for the legacy he left behind.

Ao'nung was olo'eyktan now, but Y/n had agreed with Ronal that even as his mate, she wouldn't become tsahik. Y/n never wanted that role, even when it was hers for the taking as a child of the Omatikaya. She was not a healer. She was a fighter, so Tsireya would assume that role once Ronal was ready to step down or if she passed away, and Y/n would be known as the clan's olo'eykte. No one questioned the decision, but they were happy for the family's strength in position and legacy, nevertheless.

Speaking of the Omatikaya, Kiri returned to her family's clan after the war and took the role of tsahik at the behest of her dying grandmother. Mo'at was a force to be reckoned with, even in death, so no one questioned her succession, not even Tarsem. Neytiri, Tuk, and Spider also flew back to the Forest with Kiri and stayed until Mo'at had passed. They told her all of their stories as she closed her eyes, smiling as if she were sleeping. She had outlived so many loved ones. She outlived a daughter, a mate, a grandson, and many other friends and family. She had lived long enough to become a great-grandmother, and so when she passed away in her daughter's arms, Neytiri did not cry. Instead, she was incredibly grateful that someone in her life finally managed to live until old age.

When Kiri assumed the role of tsahik, Neytiri decided to stay. She had been separated from her clan for far too long, and she belonged in the forest. She was finally ready to come home. Spider also stayed with the Omatikaya and actually became a teacher for the children of the Na'vi. Grace Augustine's legacy lived on not only through her daughter but through Norm, Max, and all remaining humans who lived on Pandora. Above all, her legacy lived on through a boy who didn't even know her but grew up wanting to teach the Na'vi all that he learned living in two different worlds, worlds that Grace had wanted to share with the children when she was alive.

Tuk decided not to stay with the Omatikaya but didn't travel back to Awa'atlu alone. With the war now over, plenty of clans wished to mix and mingle with one another. So when Tuk returned to the Metkayina, she brought back not only her childhood friend Popiti but at least a dozen Omatikaya warriors who wished to learn the ways of their reef brothers and sisters.

Ao'nung and Tsireya -Ronal had stepped down from tsahik while Tuk was away- gladly welcomed the Omatikaya and Jake watched as Lo'ak and Y/n reunited with old friends and new faces from their mother's village. Even though he wanted to catch up with the warriors from his clan, he didn't want to wait any longer himself. Toruk Makto was anxious to join his wife, daughter, and son back in the Forest, but he wanted to stay long enough to ensure the children who would remain with the Metkayina would be in good hands. Even if they were no longer children, he couldn't help it. He was still their father and even though not all children stay close to their parents, he still wanted to be sure they were loved and cared for before he had to leave them.

Jake found it difficult to regret missing out on so much of his children's lives because of the war, knowing that he would do it all over again if it meant they would get the chance to have a future. He was content knowing that he fought a war so his children would never have to in the future. Instead, they'll get to live their lives and raise their children without the fear of leaving them behind to fight, or worse, lose a child to war as Jake and Neytiri did.

Neteyam was on his father's mind now more than ever, especially as Jake held his first grandson in his arms. He had waited to leave Awa'atlu until after Y/n had given birth again, now honored to meet the first boy in the family's next generation. So far, Lo'ak and Y/n's respective families have only had two girls between them, so the village rejoiced at the birth of the olo'eyktan's first son. Y/n named the baby boy Nokteyam and the meaning behind that name wasn't lost on anyone, especially not on Jake. Tears welled up in his eyes while staring down at Nokteyam, sleeping peacefully in his grandfather's arms. He didn't have a single physical human trait and strangely, he didn't inherit any Metkayina features either. Nokteyam looked exactly like a forest child with all the correct Na'vi fingers, toes, and tail. It only made Jake's heart clench even tighter when he realized Nokteyam looked like his own firstborn son.

When Jake had asked, Y/n firmly stated that she would not be calling her son 'Teyam as a nickname. She claimed she wanted to honor her dead brother's name, not haunt her son by it. No, Y/n named her son Nokteyam but called him Nok for short, so that he'd grow up with his own identity and not the ghost of his uncle's, a young man whom he never had the pleasure of meeting.

Sìla wasn't happy at the idea of being a big sister, mainly because she was barely old enough to grasp the idea of it. But throughout the first week of Nok being in this world, she grew to love her little brother and positively beamed whenever someone told her she was the best big sister. Once Y/n and Ao'nung had settled into the life of parenting a toddler and a newborn, Jake flew back to the Forest, his heart heavy to leave three of his children behind, but was also excited to reunite with his wife and his two adoptive children, along with the Omatikaya.

The Sullys have been divided, but that didn't mean they weren't sticking together. Lo'ak, Y/n, and Tuk were closer than ever, living among the Metkayina, while Jake, Neytiri, Kiri, and Spider worked together to oversee the future of the Omatikaya. Not one Sully was left alone, and that gave Jake some comfort. They all kept in touch and often flew to each other's villages when given the chance. During one of these visits, Y/n told her parents that she was pregnant again, but when she eventually gave birth, neither Jake nor Neytiri was with her this time, oceans away and unaware that they were grandparents again.

Instead of having the three children they agreed upon, Y/n and Ao'nung end up having four, because the third child turned out to be twins. Having twins was inevitable as it had never skipped a generation. First, it was Jake and Tommy, then Neteyam and Y/n... now it was Tawnu and Nangi, both boys and both sporting a healthy mixture of human, forest, and reef features.

Despite having more children than she initially wanted, Y/n could not be happier. However, she was slightly terrified of the idea of having the same amount of children her parents did before losing Neteyam and adopting Spider. What if she made the same mistakes her sa'sem did? This is what she was trying to avoid when she first told Ao'nung she only wanted two babies, worried that she might accidentally favor one child over another, or worse put too much burden and responsibility on one of their shoulders. Ao'nung wasn't worried, however, vocally adamant that his wife was strong and she always learned from her mother and father's mistakes. She was already the best mother in the world just by worrying she'd mess up. The Na'vi only ever want what's best for their children, and Y/n and Ao'nung were no exceptions.

From the beginning, they had both agreed to expose the children to forest and reef life, both mother and father teaching the next generation what they had been taught in their separate, respective clans. While Ao'nung worried about teaching the children to swim from infancy, Y/n made sure her children knew what it felt like to fly.

It was one of her favorite activities to spend time with her children. Only risking to take them one at a time, Y/n would strap one baby to her chest and take her ikran out for a long flight around the island. She did this with all of her children, but never all at once.

Ao'nung also loved when Y/n took one of their children to the skies, but not for the same reason. He enjoyed spending quality time with the remaining three children while his wife was away with the fourth. Like his father before him, Ao'nung was a great and mighty leader, often intimidating by size alone. But to his children, he spoke soft and gently, never raising his voice unless it was to be heard.

The olo'eyktan found himself sitting on the beach, his legs stretched out in the sand with Nangi sitting between them. The baby, only old enough to sit up and nothing else, was playing, in awe of the sand and shells his father provided for him to inspect. Meanwhile, Ao'nung was keeping a watchful eye on Sìla and Nok as they chased one another into the water, never going any deeper than above their waists. Their laughs and squeals of joy can be heard echoing in the winds as they travel through Awa'atlu. Despite the high pitch, it was a peaceful sound and one of Ao'nung's favorites that he liked to replay in his head. He tried to retain as many good memories as possible, still occasionally caught up in the bad ones. While he loved his children always asking him questions, it was always hard to answer why he had a large, wide scar on his right leg.

It was hard enough that Ao'nung barely remembered what happened himself. It happened early on in the war against the Sky People. Lo'ak, younger at the time, told Ao'nung when he woke up from the battle that a sky demon had emptied an assault rifle into his leg. Ao'nung had lost a lot of blood, and at the time, there were Ronal, Kiri, and Mo'at all hard at work, trying to keep him alive and save his leg. Ao'nung couldn't remember the pain or the event leading up to getting injured, but he remembered being in and out of consciousness throughout the whole ordeal, and the faint memory of Y/n screaming and crying his name still haunts him to this day. Y/n, who was heavily pregnant with Sìla at the time, was bargaining with Eywa, pleading for the Great Mother to spare the father of her unborn child and how she didn't deserve to lose anyone else she loved. Whether it was the tag team of tsahiks or Y/n's prayers, Ao'nung had miraculously survived, and he had fully healed just in time to be there for his mate when she went into labor.

Ao'nung tries to remember the birth of his first and only daughter over the memory of his injury, and sometimes he prefers telling Sìla the story of her birth over the time he nearly died. He doesn't mind the scars, but the memories behind them are terrifying. His children make them better -they make everything better- by admiring the scars and talking about how brave their father is. They like the scars. Like the songcord, scars tell the children of Na'vi a story, and it makes Ao'nung filled with pride.

His thoughts are interrupted by the familiar screech of an ikran. Looking up with a smile, he sees Evi, the light blue banshee with gold lightning running up her figure, flying up ahead. Life is a little funny and ironic as Ao'nung fondly thinks. 'Funny that the first time he ever met Evi, she was nearly ready to eat him, and ironic how her rider would someday become his mate. Whenever he told that story to his children, they had yet to believe him.

The chief of the Metkayina doesn't get up from the sand and watches the ikran circle him before promptly landing on the sand a couple of yards away. Only then when the banshee landed did Sìla and Nok notice the beast as well and squealed with excitement, running over to Evi like she was a long-lost family pet. Ao'nung fondly smiled as he watched the ikran rider dismount and cling tightly to the bundle strapped against her chest. Y/n now stood as tall as her mother used to be, still sporting the braided hair and beads, but now wore clothing more appropriate for a leading member of the Metkayina. Like Ao'nung, she was nearly covered in tattoos, other than her chin where the tsahik symbol would've been if she hadn't let Tsireya take on the role. Otherwise, most of Y/n's tattoos symbolized a warrior and a high-standing figure among the villagers; as their olo'eykte. Ao'nung still felt pride whenever he saw the akula tooth carved to look like an arrowhead, resting just above his mate's heart and now woven into her chest piece.

Y/n had bent down to gather Sìla and Nok in her arms when they ran up to greet her but was careful not to squish the baby still sleeping at her breast. Standing up, Y/n carefully adjusted Tawnu to rest comfortably against her collar before she grabbed Sìla and Nok's hands, walking with them along the beach, heading in the direction of the olo'eyktan and Little Nangi.

When they were close enough, Ao'nung called out, "Did Evi get to stretch her wings?"

Y/n smiles with a shrug, "Enough to last the old girl another week before she insists I take her again."

The Na'vi woman sits down beside Ao'nung in the sand, leaning heavily against his side, knowing that he'd gladly take her weight, his arm sliding around her waist to hold her close. Ao'nung paid no attention to Y/n's tail loosely wrapping around his own waist and instead busied himself with trading twins, setting Nangi down on Y/n's lap before helping Y/n with taking Tawnu out of his sling. Ao'nung lets Tawnu continue sleeping in the crook of his other arm while Y/n gathers Nangi in hers, cooing to the baby boy and making him laugh when she riddled his little chubby face with kisses.

Once the parents were settled, Sìla took this opportunity of happiness to plead with big, blue eyes and a pouty lip, wrapping her little arms around Y/n's, "Can I go again, Mama?"

Evi squawks in the background, likely offended that she's now the family's show pony in her old age, while Y/n smiles sweetly and leans her forehead into her daughter's, "You have to wait your turn, ma'txe'lan. It will be Nangi's turn next time, then I promise I will take you."

Sìla whined but otherwise didn't complain, distracted by Nok when he pinched her and ran off. The chief's daughter runs after him, vowing for revenge in their own twisted game of tag while their parents watch on in adoration.

Ao'nung briefly looks up to the sky, "The winds are getting warmer. The tulkun should be returning soon."

"Hm," Y/n replies while looking down at Nangi. Apparently, he had followed in his twin's footsteps and fell asleep, "I'm sure they will be very happy to meet the twins for the first time."

"I will be very happy to introduce them to my Spirit Brother," Ao'nung turns his head to his wife, "When do you think Sìla can meet your brother?"

Y/n's resulting smile was soft and kind, but Ao'nung knew better than anyone the level of sadness behind it. Even as she had aged and small wrinkles had started to form around her lips, she still looked like the young girl who had lost her other half as if it was only yesterday. She looks off over the waves and out into the vast ocean, thinking back to all the times she had visited the Spirit Tree over the years. As promised, she only visited Neteyam on special occasions. She visited when each of their siblings finished their Iknimaya or when Lo'ak and Tsireya were officially betrothed, when the Na'vi had won the war, and when Y/n found out each time she was pregnant. She had started to visit less and less, far too busy as a wife and a mother, just as Neteyam had hoped for, but she'll still go to see him when her children go through big and meaningful milestones, always excited to share them with her twin brother.

The children have yet to learn about Neteyam, their parents believing they are still far too young. Nok knows his name stems from someone important to his mama, but that is the extent of his knowledge. Soon, however, Sìla will be old enough to knowingly connect to the Spirit Tree all by herself, unlike her first communion with Eywa. When that time comes, Ao'nung and Y/n will sit her down and tell her the story of her Uncle Neteyam.

It will break Y/n's heart when Sìla asks if they meant Uncle Lo'ak or Spider, but Y/n will correct her daughter and tell her that she actually has a third uncle. Both her mother and father will tell Sìla stories of a young boy she had never met, a boy who never got to grow up alongside his friends and siblings... A boy who loved his family deeply and would have loved Sìla and her brothers even more, he would've hung the world for them if he were still alive.

Y/n's heart will always ache to know that Neteyam was robbed of being someone's husband and father, whoever those poor souls might have been. Her heart ached to know he would never get to be olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya or meet each and every one of his nieces and nephews until they were all old enough to go to him themselves. However, her heart has been healing for some time instead of breaking, and like Neteyam said she would, Y/n has managed to balance her sadness with her happiness, missing her brother just as much as she loved her mate and her kids.

She leans further into Ao'nung's shoulder, watching two of her children play in the water while the remaining two slept safely in their parents' arms, "Soon."

Her husband hums quietly, turning his head until it's half buried in her hair, whispering his response in a kiss he placed on the top of her head, "Nga yawne lu oer, Forest Girl."

"Nga yawne lu oer, Seaweed Brain."

Sìla: derived from "hope"

Nokteyam: Nok (a man's name in Na'vi) and Neteyam "not the end"

Tawnu: derived from "sky"

Nangi: derived from "surprise"

Even though I'm finishing up this series, I think I still want to write about it. I plan on writing about missing scenes that weren't initially written in the series, like Ao'nung's injury and in-depth reactions to Y/n's pregnancies. So stay tuned for that! If you have a request for me to write about a certain topic for this series, please don't be afraid to ask! (I'm also not opposed to writing 'what-if' scenarios like "what if Neteyam survived and watched his twin sister's family grow?")

Thanks again everyone!

[tinycozycomfort]

rest in the cup of my palms (part one)

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x art student f!reader

chapter one: drawing from life

series masterlist | next chapter

series summary: you went back to school to find out who you are—to make another leap in the hope of self discovery. when you finally find that first glimpse of yourself, it’s in someone else. what happens when the mirror tries to pull you in? or  you’re everything joel could’ve hoped to find. he doesn’t let go easily.

chapter summary: ellie volunteers joel to model for a drawing class on campus. you find someone worth dreaming about.

warnings/tags: no outbreak, no use of y/n, (for everything) -> mutual pining!, possessive behavior, smut (w individual tags to come), unnecessary descriptions of joel being beautiful, ellie is joel's daughter, ellie and reader attend the same university but reader is in post-grad, age gap (joel is late 40s, reader is not), alternating pov, slow-ish burn, joel miller wins girl dad of the century via unanimous vote (for this chapter) -> masturbation (f), intense feelings of loneliness, existential rumination

word count: 7.2k

rating: explicit (18+ only! mdni)

A/N: some good ol' work up, necessary to explain the rated r plans i have for them. ive been terrified of writing a series but i'm also tired of editing everything down to be one-shot appropriate, so today we try. im full-swing into my fixation era and on my 'i cant be loved + ive known how to love you for 1,000 lifetimes' bullshit. this fic is as self indulgent as they come, but i hope you can enjoy it! and for those of you willing to trudge through this with me, i love you.

read on ao3

“To photograph people is to violate them, by seeing them as they never see themselves, by having knowledge of them that they can never have; it turns people into objects that can be symbolically possessed.”

Susan Sontag - On Photography 

───────

A halo of hot light falls through the pane of glass above the sink. Joel’s got one eye pinched semi-shut, trying hard to focus on not burning himself while he drains boiling water out of a pot of pasta. 

When he woke up this morning, the blinds on every window in the house had been strung up to the lip. He’d barely gotten a hand around one of the strings in the glass frame above the couch before Ellie appeared out of nowhere to literally slap his wrist, ‘I’m drawing’. Still groggy, he tried to challenge her, ‘Do they all have to be open?’, to which she patiently explained—for what she probably feels is the millionth time—that she needed the extra light, and if she had them all open when she started, they’d need to stay that way until she was done. 

So he left her to work, knowing she’s got midterms to finish, walking around with his eyes closed until he felt his way back into his bedroom. He came out once for coffee, and not again until dinner. This is their weekend.

Joel spoons out some of the food into bowls, leaving them to stay warm by the stove before he steps into the dining room. He stops himself half-way, hanging back in the archway to give his daughter another minute as the last shreds of strong sunlight start to wane out.

Ellie’s right where he left her: at the table, cross-legged in her chair with an eraser-less pencil held tightly in her fist. She’s hunched over a large pad of paper, the back of it lifted at an angle under a pile of old books and dog-eared tool catalogs. The sketchbook she uses as a reference guide is propped up on the corner of her left knee, leaned against the edge of the table. She rifles between two pages of it, eyeing some of the quick sketches—visual notes, as she puts it—that she took in class to help her navigate the larger, more detailed version with ease. Silent save for her short huffs of breath, she’s concentrated, wrist-corner lifted to not misplace any graphite. Her process is always the same; a little creature of habit.

She’s wearing her headphones, the cord winding dangerously low, threatening to dip into a cup of water she’d placed in the empty triangle between her lap—the same one he’d seen her with six hours ago. She hasn’t even touched it, still full nearly to the brim. He wonders if she’s gotten up at all. The girl works herself a bit too hard, he thinks, always falls head first into whatever project she’s working on, nothing if not like her dad. The corner of his mouth tugs up so tight it hurts. What is he going to do without her?

He just stands there, feet crossed on top of each other and arms in a twist over his chest, and watches her while she’s not looking, knowing she still gets shy sometimes when he catches her like this. She’s the sweetest reminder of everything good Joel’s ever done; another life he’d gladly offer his own for. 

It’s always come naturally—to be what someone needs of him—in a way that transcends reward or expectation. 

Joel had been his brother’s primary caregiver first, from birth and then well into their adulthood—always around to bail him out of jail or lend him money he didn’t have. Because he cared. Loved him. He couldn’t ever really say it, always had a problem with the wording, but he knew that at least some of what he wanted to explain had come across. He can see it in the way Tommy is with his own family.

His brother has Maria now, and the kids, and seeing how happy Tommy could be in spite of their upbringing was the first time Joel had ever put his priorities into question. Somewhere in all the caring-for he did, he’d forgotten about himself; the possibility of having his own wife and child and home. He’d always ached for that, deep down, but didn’t even know it was an option until he saw it happen. By that point, he wasn’t sure if he could do any of it, or if he even had the time to start. Then came Ellie.

She entered his life when a close friend of Tommy’s had died unexpectedly and no one came forward to claim her, unknowingly giving him a second chance; one he worked to make count. She was tough to crack at first—also like him in that way—but the love had always been there, waiting its turn after all the awkwardness and misunderstanding and adapting before finally showing its face. She’d needed him then, as much as his brother had all those years ago, carrying on the torch of purpose that Joel so feverishly searched for. 

He rolls his eyes at himself; he’s been having too many misty-eyed moments about her lately. It’s so unserious, the actuality of it; of being her dad. Going to work and the supermarket and museums, being there to chaperone field-trips and take one-thousand mostly-blurry photos of her graduation. But it’s been everything to him. He’s desperately clung to the five years of her life that she’s shared with him, and he’s so proud to witness it, but he knows she’s getting to a point where she needs to be her own person. He’ll miss her when she’s only home for summers, then only home for Christmas, then only home once in a while—so he holds on to every bit, and tries not to think about what’s next for him. 

He walks closer to her, tilting his head to try and steal a glance of what it is she’s working on. He catches a glimpse of the face of a woman, a portrait from shoulders-up. She’s pretty, with a soft and thoughtful expression, looking downward off the side of the pad. From what he could make out between the movements of Ellie’s hand, she even looks a little shy. His daughter rubs at the cheeks and nose of the girl on the paper, imitating the shadow-less areas where light would fall. Joel is mesmerized by the way she creates so effortlessly, like breathing. 

Without moving her head, she pulls a tiny white bobble out from her ear, “I know you’re watching me, weirdo.” 

Joel laughs, wet and thick in his mouth with the emotion he’s still climbing down from, “Is this how you treat me when I’m trying to feed you?” 

She smiles, he can see the fat of her cheek rounding out even from this angle, “You should’ve just said that.” 

Ellie leaves her set-up untouched, just getting up and moving down to an empty seat while Joel goes to bring the food out. 

She shifts around in her seat, feet folded again on the flat of it, eating too fast—ill-mannered—and it reminds Joel of all the nights they spent at Tommy’s for family dinner, right at the beginning, back when they’d just begun to become close. When she’d push his patience with her behavior to see if he’d say something, to see if he still paid her mind—he always did, still does, “Jesus Christ, kid. Have I taught you nothing?”

She holds back a laugh, mouth full of tomato sauce, “You love it. I’m charming.” 

He snorts, the two of them falling into a comfortable quiet for only a few minutes before she breaks it again, “Speaking of how much you love me, I need to ask you for a favor.” 

“Oh no,” He jokes, “What now?” 

“Remember those drawings I turned in of you last month?” She starts pushing around the last bite of her spaghetti, never a good sign, but he nods anyway for her to continue, “Well my teacher really liked them. And there’s been an issue with finding people to sit for the drawings. Sooo,” she really drags it out, “I signed you up.”

“What do you mean, you signed me up? For what?” 

“To model,” Joel’s mouth pops open in an immediate attempt to oppose, but Ellie’s quicker, “Didn’t you say you’d always support me in school?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Joel finishes his plate and then they’re both just clinking their forks against porcelain for a heavy eightnineten seconds before she gives it another shot.

“C’mon, seriously. I’ll get extra credit if you do it,” She lets out a long sigh like she can’t believe she has to explain anything more than that, “My professor teaches a Monday session for the master’s program and they need people. It’s just one time.” 

“Ellie. It’s Sunday. How are you gonna tell me this now?” 

“Please, you just sit there for, like, two hours while they draw you and you don’t have to talk. That’s two of your favorite things. Three if you consider that you’d be helping me out.” she looks at him with a sticky-sweet smile, eyes crinkled—like she knows she’s getting away with it. 

She might be. 

“Why don’t you ask one of your friends to do it?” Joel gathers up their plates from the table to carry them into the kitchen. Ellie picks up their still half-full glasses as an excuse to follow him.

“Because we all have class together tomorrow on the other side of campus. Plus, you’re easy to draw and—” 

“Hey.” 

She ignores the flat look he shoots her, flipping on the sink, “That’s a compliment, by the way. But really, it’s no effort and you’d be getting me into a good place with my professor ‘cause she’ll be super grateful. The budget’s kinda tight this semester.” 

“Then what am I payin’ for, if you’re gonna make me do this stuff myself?” It’s a half-hearted dig—he’s mostly annoyed because she probably already figured out he’s going to agree.

Her little smirk graduates to a shit-eating grin, she knows it, “Best dad ever.”

“You’re a pain in my ass, y’know that?”

“Just because I knew you were gonna say that, I actually signed you up for two.”

───────

Joel stumbles out of the elevator, filing hurriedly through groups of students with a new-found purpose now that he’s managed to make it to the correct floor. Ellie made a point of not mentioning that he had to be at the school at 7:30am until she was saying goodnight to him a few hours ago, because she thought it would dissuade him—she was right—so now he’s running late on top of everything else. 

He’s got the little scaled-down, splotchy-printed version of the campus map gripped tightly between his hands. Room 14B is seemingly only two turns and one corner from where he stands—if he’s holding it the right way. He wants to ask for directions, but he feels too out-of-place to set aside his embarrassment. He’s older than at least half the staff, and some of the attendees are even younger, and he doesn’t want to run the risk of looking incapable, as foolish as it is. He wishes Ellie would have just offered to show him where to go before she headed off to her own class. 

For someone who prides themselves on their ability to parent, he feels hopeless now without his daughter; not for the first time, but it’s especially harsh considering the circumstances. It hurts something bittersweet, to think about how much more they’ve bonded since he started working less and she decided to live at home her first year of college (though it’s coming to an end sooner than he’d like). Again, too many sad thoughts, and she’s not here, so he trudges on. 

He walks in two more circles before he finds the right place—down a fucking hallway and hidden behind a door he didn’t know he was allowed to open, of course. A woman with long, dark blonde hair is sitting at a desk by the door when he enters. She doesn’t look up at him.

“Good morning, ma’am. Sorry I’m late. My—uh. You teach my daughter? I’m here for—” 

“Ellie’s dad,” She cocks her head without meeting his eye, “Late? You’re about twenty minutes early, she told me you probably would be.” 

She knows me too well, the brat. He chastises her in his mind but outwardly he corrects himself, “Yes, right, sorry. I’m a little turned around.” 

“That’s alright. There’s just a waiver you need to sign, and you can get undressed in the bathroom down the hall. I’ll give you a cover-up to wear until I come to grab you.” 

Right, he’d have to be naked. He already knew that—sort-of—having seen dozens of Ellie’s sketches from semesters past. He knows the students don’t see it that way, knows that they’ve all drawn the same things so many times they would be desensitized to his nudity. They’d probably all be desensitized to him as well; in their eyes, he was just a reference, as familiar as any of the memorialized piles of fruit or arrangements of glass that Ellie's also brought home. 

Still, Joel feels a wash of anxiety come over him. He’s more than comfortable in his body, after putting it through so much, but this degree of vulnerability is severe in comparison to vanity or sex—it’s a state of living he hasn’t participated in for a long time. He doesn’t like to be seen, and being documented—having physical evidence of how he’s interpreted by others—makes his stomach turn. He hasn’t looked in a mirror for more than a moment in months, but it can’t be that bad, right? Ellie’s always given him a favorable light, but he worries she has a bias beyond belief. What if he sees something about himself he doesn’t like? What if everyone’s been able to see it all along?

Caught in his thoughts, he doesn’t realize the woman is still talking, “We have a scheduled break halfway through class. You can leave then. Next week it’ll flip and you can come for the latter half so they can finish.” She slides the form and a swath of black fabric across the table, and almost like she can sense his apprehension, finally raises her head to give him a meaningful look, “Thank you again for doing this. I know it can feel weird, but it makes a difference for them. There’ll be a joint show at the end of the month, too, with Ellie’s class.” 

He just offers her a little nod of his head, thank you, signing the form and padding to the bathroom to unceremoniously disrobe in an empty stall.

It’s just two hours. 

───────

If they make you take another figure-drawing class, you’re going to scream. 

You’d think this far into a second degree, the school board would stop requiring you to take what is essentially the same class every semester. Sincerely, the only thing that changes is how long the session runs and what number follows the class title. It’s getting old. 

To be fair, it’s not necessarily that you dislike drawing—it provides a pretty firm foundation for your personal work to stand on—it’s just tedious. Nothing is inspiring about assignment-based work, especially when they’ve decided the only way you can prove your skill-set is to make you draw the same three objects five-thousand ways. 

But it’s not up to you. 

So here you are again, two weeks from spring break, back in this frigid building after surviving another forty minutes of traffic, body still stiff from fighting the urge to fall asleep at the wheel. 

It’s important, you remind yourself, to show up and put your fullest effort into everything, no matter how much you don’t enjoy it. Even if just to prove to yourself you can still finish things.

Coming back to school was an idea you’d toyed with for years after graduating. 

There had been a lot of pressure on you to go in the first place, from your parents and your teachers and your nightmare of an ex, because according to them you’d get nowhere without it. After enough pressure and in a need to appease them, you folded and went; suffered every long night and pushed through every period of self-doubt and smiled for every ‘worth-capturing’ moment right up to the end. And then when it was over, gone faster than you could comprehend, you felt like something was taken away from you, even with how low it had made you—the worst kind of stockholm syndrome. 

In an attempt to keep some momentum, you were over-eager for more right out of the gate. There was an initial need to continue, because you’d been reliant on academic structure just by the nature of familiarity, and maybe a little ill-prepared to face who you were without guidance. Without the instruction of someone with two degrees and a smoking addiction and no teaching license. Now it sounds silly, but then you spent a few too many nights uncontrollably looking into post-grad institutions or internship programs, googling professors and reading forums for first-hand accounts. 

Then, after a year, the thought of continuing got a little less exciting, and you became comfortable in the freedom of nothing after being in school your whole life. So you pretended to research, emailed everyone about how great the options looked, signed up for one-on-ones you didn’t show up for—until people stopped asking. 

It was at that point that you finally had the time to process what you were doing and why, and accepted that you didn’t have to have all the answers, despite what everyone had led you to believe. Truthfully, you still had no idea who you wanted to be and that’s okay—living with it and living alongside it weren’t mutually exclusive. You just took time to practice being yourself—sucked up the embarrassment and did the work, little exercises in unleashing yourself onto the world instead of letting every experience be done to you. If you were going to do anything anymore, even something like continuing your education, it had to be on your own terms, to try it all in the effort of self-discovery.

So yes, applying and getting accepted and attending every class—even this one—this time around was for you—to better yourself instead of just filling an expectation. You’re determined to make good on the opportunity.

And it has been better, so far. You even have friends this time around. Okay, two, and one of them is your roommate, but it's more of a support system than what you had going into undergrad.

You say yes now, too; not to everything, but to more than before. Which is maybe how you got roped into getting ‘introductory’ drinks later this evening with everyone, now that more people have joined the program as winter thaws out and it’s easier to commute. It’ll be nice to swap ideas and catch up and maybe even get laid instead of spending hours staring at the ceiling and willing time to pass. That thought alone is enough to keep you here.

It’s just two hours.  

The room this semester is a little bigger, at least; probably the only perk that moving up so gracefully from Drawing II to Drawing III had earned you. It’s still unfortunately just another classroom; windowless to protect it from outside influence and drenched in fluorescent light to create a controlled environment. Old, stained art horses form a circle in the center of the space, crowding around a painted-gray wood pallet like an audience. A metal stool sits atop the make-shift stage, providing a seat for the subject. It’s clinical, the way the elements come together; a perfectly disarrayed scene that’s been neatly curated to emulate every ‘socratic seminar’ model you’ve seen in education since you can remember. Always the same.

You’re hoping for someone new today to rest on the chair; the department has been in less-than-preferred financial standing lately, so you’ve seen the same faces interchanged for  most of the term.

Your professor is at her desk when you make your way in, greeting you with a grin despite the tired look on her face. A hardworking woman, the shadows under her eyes gave her a beauty you could only explain as determined. You knew she cross-taught for both sections of the department, and you respected her for it. It couldn’t be anything short of a struggle to toggle between those modes of seriousness—to have the patience to answer the younger students’ unending questions and the passion to keep the post-grads engaged. 

Moving to get a seat as far on the outskirts of the cluster as possible, you watch as your classmates arrive slowly until all the slots are filled. No one really talks, probably all similarly bogged down by the early start and the cold weather outside. Ian, your friend who’d invited you out tonight, waves at you from four horses down and you halfheartedly nod back at him. 

“Good morning everyone, we’ve only got two more classes after this until your week off, so we’ll make this next one a two-parter and have critique on the twenty-first. I want you guys to focus on composition more than anything else,” She turns in her seat to write some names on the board behind her, “We’ll go for two hours then break. If your name’s up here we’ll have a conversation about your thesis. The rest of you can go.” 

Thankfully you’ve been spared this time—granted another seven-nights-straight writing the segment of your thesis that was meant to be finished two months ago. Your brain hurts inside of your skull. 

You set up your little station, sketchpad raised against the easel, body straddling the drawing horse as you fiddle with some dirty erasers in your pack. 

You can hear the slap slap slap of the model’s feet on the concrete floor as they enter—a long gait paired with hard, thudding steps; probably a man by the sound of it. Tall and heavy. 

“Okay guys, we’re starting,” She winds up the dial on a plastic kitchen timer and sets it on the edge of her desk, “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be making a few passes throughout and we’ll exchange thoughts.”

You roll your neck, knowing the model tends to take a minute to find a comfortable position, and that people watching didn’t do anything to help. A tempered soundtrack—the poorly contained buzzing of the clock and the moan of the air-conditioning—plays on in the background. Your leg is asleep. It’s cold in here. You count to thirty in your head. That’s enough time, right? You shift again, stretching your arms once more just in case.

Looking up, you peer over the side of the easel to get a quick look at the model’s pose and immediately do a double take. 

It is a man.

He’s sitting on the chair, facing the girl a few seats down from you so that you can only see him from a three-quarters view. He has one long, thick leg pushed against the lower bar of the stool, the other one, closest to you, hiked up on the seat, folded so that his knee points towards the ceiling. His arms are crossed, hugging his erect shin with his wide back wrapped over his thigh, effectively shielding the ‘naked’ parts of him from view. He looks shy, but not uncomfortable; either like he’s done this before or he’s accustomed to protecting himself—to hiding. 

The frame of his body is captivating; he looks strong but used, little nicks and scars littering his shoulders and hands. Weathered. As you make your way up his torso, you find it’s a similar state of experienced, tan profile and neck bearing the slightest difference in color from the soft of his side, and you can see the faintest curve of a hem-shaped tan-line across the dip in his shoulder. Little wisps of gray-dusted brown curls frame the edges of his face. He’s beautiful in a gentle way, with a dark, heavy brow that leads into the sharp slope of his nose, plush lips pursed like he’s concentrating. 

Part of you feels bad about staring, but it’s easy enough to disguise it as working, so you map him with your gaze again and again until you can still see him when you blink. It takes the constant movement of your classmate’s hand sketching something in your periphery to remember you’re being timed. 

You choke out a cough, repositioning your body and grabbing some charcoal. 

The way you usually approach this task is simple: get down the general gist of the body, careful to keep out the details of the person in favor of capturing light and weight—there’s a graded challenge to be considered, after all. 

Yet as you watch him, you decide you can fulfill the requirements in a way that gives him more room to exist. You crop the drawing tighter, paying careful attention to the landscape of his face; the hills of his cheekbones and the valley between his lips. You want to immortalize him. 

You’re suddenly deeply concerned with the history that’s woven itself into the shape of him, in what happened to make him look this way. It seems like life has been useful to him, but that he’d had to grow from something to make it so—like he had to work for it. He’s the living manifestation of his own grief and enjoyment and passion, and you want to know all of it.

Countless minutes pass as you take him in and spill him out, fingers moving quickly to recreate the weighted feeling of his posture, exhausted and heavy, muscles held together on the string of bone that runs through the center of his back. You write him down, again and again, flipping to a new page half-way through to get in one last version of him—one for yourself. 

You’ve never seen him before, but you see part of yourself in him. He mirrors the anxious peace you’ve been operating under for the last few years, humming with energy but willfully stagnant. It makes you feel seen, less burdened by your recent inability to connect—he makes you want to keep trying.

You wonder if he writes or draws or makes, and if he’d show you. You want to hear him talk. You want to see the other side of him, literally and metaphorically. You want to feel—

The tinny ring of the alarm sounds off, and you’re taken out of the fantasy. 

The second drawing is only really half done, but you didn’t make it with the intention of sharing it anyway, so you flip back to the original to hide it.. 

You try not to watch the man when he stands—remembering that just because he’d been hidden before doesn't mean he wasn't naked the entire time—maybe more for your sake than his. You peek around the room instead, taking a healthy, albeit competitive, glance around for other interpretations of the man; did they see him too, the way you do?

When you look up to take a comparative look, he’s gone. You’re a little disappointed, admittedly, but there’s still one more chance to interact with him, and you can make up for it then. You start to pack up your things in an effort to make it to the parking lot before the crowd. A sudden rise in the volume level in the room tells you that the shock of the early morning has started to burn off. You try to tune it out, so much so that you don’t hear someone walking up behind you. 

“Wow.” It’s a man’s voice, deep and smooth. You pivot in your seat. 

It’s him, in all his communal-robe wearing glory, even more gorgeous from head on. It’s a pleasant surprise, this reveal; his beauty is evenly distributed, like a handwritten note that extends into the margins or when a movie’s ending is just as good as the start.

“Oh. Hi. Thank you.” You feel exposed, like you got caught doing something bad, even though there are ten other people in the room with even more detailed portraits of him.

“Can I see the other one, too?” 

“What?” 

“You flipped your page. I didn’t see anyone else do that. Did you make two?” 

You just nod, shocked that he was watching you back, peeling back the paper to reveal to him the unfinished drawing. He won’t question it if you don’t give him a reason to. 

“Are you gonna finish it?” He asks, eyes rolling over it with an intense curiosity.

“Uh, probably not. I don’t like it as much as the first one.” Maybe lying your way through this would provide better reasoning than ‘I wanted a part of you that no one else could see’.

“Can I have it?” 

When you can’t find something to say fast enough, he just continues.

“I’m sorry, is that rude? If you’re just gonna get rid of it, I’ll take it. It just… looks like me. I mean they all do, I’ve been told I have a ‘simple face’,” He coughs awkwardly in acknowledgement of his own tangent, “I just mean to say that it feels a lot like me. If that makes sense.”

“You’re actually very visually interesting.” Is the first thing you can think of, and fuck, did that come out really fucking wrong, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe it’s better if he takes it, if it’ll stop you from fumbling, “But yeah, you can have it.” You pull a little plastic mail-tube out of your bag, ripping the drawing free from its perforated tether and rolling it in on itself. 

The edges of his mouth pull up, a cute little thing, free of laughter or judgement, “Thank you. I’m Joel.” One of his hands drapes across his stomach, palm spread over the knot of the wrap—he’s holding himself at length again. Why? 

“Hi Joel. You seem to know a fair amount about this whole thing. Not your first time, then?” You offer him your name in return, and he parrots it back—guard still up, still standing too far away. 

“It is, actually. The closest I’ve come to this is sitting in the yard for my daughter,” He watches as you slide the drawing into the cylindrical case, “You’re very talented.” 

“Thank you.” It feels weird to hear the praise twice, “How’d they get you to pose for no money? I heard the department’s a little strapped. I’ve been subbing in for the undergrads too when I can.” 

“My daughter volunteered me, she’s on the other side of the program. Your teacher was giving out extra credit.” He takes the roll when you pass it to him, going out of his way to grab it from the middle, his thumb grazing yours. Your skin heats up where he’s touched it, and you look down at the floor, suddenly nervous. 

“Wow, this is the first time I’m hearing anything about that.” You continue to pack away items into your bag, “I’m owed quite a lot if that’s true.” 

His face falls in on itself in a wince, “Oh. Didn’t mean to do her in like that.” You can feel him looking at you for a few beats too long, and his eyes narrow like he’s about to say more. 

In the same moment, as if summoned, your professor turns on her heel, walking over to your bench. 

“It’s okay. I’ll be okay without it. I’ll see you next week, right?”

He shakes a little, releasing his stare, and throws a thumbs up in your direction with his protective hand, “Yeah, see ya next week. Nice to meet you.” 

───────

After another four-hour class and a too-long nap and a break for dinner, everyone from this morning joins together in a few cars to head to a bar downtown. You meet up with Ian, who offered to drive as a bargaining chip, because he knows by now that you’d back out if you had to show up on your own.

The bar is dark and divey and perfect for being overly-observant in secret. You’ve warmed up to this crowd enough, but you’re still on plus-one basis with a lot of them, Ian serving as your invitation. You like to just listen to them at first during these outings, strategically planning your involvement so you don’t feel put on the spot when they give you a turn.

It’s a lot like being in class; the group of you occupying a dimly lit corner, a round-table of bodies, with the person in the center alternating as the topic changes. Tonight you stay at the furthest end.

You cling to the single tequila soda you ordered, watery and flat by now with pea-sized ice chips bobbing around in the center to avoid the heat of your fingers. You watch them swim, tipping your cup to see them swirl in a frenzied circle until they disappear. 

Some guy from your English class—Andre or Andrew or who cares—is talking at you, making his best attempt at what you think is supposed to be flirting. It’s really just him asking your opinions on his five favorite books, not hiding his disapproval when you mention you haven’t read one or the other. 

You watch Ian, who left you twenty minutes ago in search of the bar-top for another drink. He’s caught now on his third conversation on the way back, maybe thinking he’s doing you a favor by taking his time. You try relentlessly to catch his eye instead, and he bounds over without question when he sees you. The glass of wine in his hand is already half empty, and the English-class-guy spooks at the sight of what he probably thinks is competition. So much for that.

“Having fun?” he prods when he slips in the chair beside you, already aware that you are absolutely very much not having fun. 

Ian’s a nice guy, and he means well. You met him a week into your first semester—almost a year ago now—at orientation, because your last names were the beginning and end of the line of their respective letters. He was from somewhere in Canada, studying photography with a minor in painting and drawing. He’s maybe a year or two older than you, though you’ve never asked to confirm; tall and long and pretty, for lack of a better word, with big eyes and a permanent split in the little bangs that cover his forehead. He’s the first man in years you’ve been comfortable around, never initiating anything or pushing too hard for your friendship. All in all, no one’s been as welcoming to you, except the person you literally live with, and you’re happy to let him drag you out if it means he’ll continue to look after you the way he does.

“Of course, when have you ever known me to have a bad time?” 

“No luck with Adrian?” Adrian. You were close.

“Just likes to hear himself talk, I think. I wasn’t interested in being an audience.” 

He hums, “Someone else on your mind?” 

“Like who?” You lean the lip of your cup against your mouth.

“Saw you making eyes at the model today,” He teases, nudging you in your rib when you take a sip of your drink so that you keel over slightly. You sputter, unamused with the tactic to get you to fess up.

Was it that obvious?

“Isn’t that the point of the class?” 

“Yeah maybe, smartass, but that’s not what I meant. I saw him talking to you, saw you give him a little gift,” He bobs his eyebrows at you suggestively, “Excited for him to come back next week?”

“So I can stare more, you mean?” 

“So you can get his number.” 

“Ian.”

“I’m just saying you should try and find someone outside our section of the building. No writers, either, obviously.” He gestures to where Adrian is already trying his shtick on some girl from your class.

“He’s a little too old for me, don’t you think? His daughter goes here.” You muse. He’s mostly right about you needing to expand your reach, but you won’t let him off that easily.

“Maybe. But if you don’t care, and he doesn’t care, what’s it matter? He’s not too old to fuck you.” He makes a face and you roll your eyes. 

The thought is nice, but you know forging relationships is unlikely when you’re concerned, at least as of late, “I don’t want to spend my night talking about people I’m not going to fuck.” 

“Whatever you say.” He slinks out from his seat, mumbling something about a glass of water. A few steps away, he looks back over his shoulder, “You’re not doomed, by the way,” the asshole can read your mind, “You can enjoy yourself without feeling guilty. You’re allowed to like people.” 

And then you’re alone again. 

It’s like that for another hour, small attempts at chatter and meetings until you realize you’re too tired to fuck anyone, let alone continue to sit upright. Being up so early this morning took more of a toll than an hour nap could fix, and you're begging Ian to take you home. He agrees, spending the trip trying to plan another outing later in the week before everyone’s gone on vacation.

You give him a sleepy goodbye when he pulls into your apartment complex, making sure he’s still going to class tomorrow before letting him drive away. Once you’re inside, slipping quietly in through the front door, you realize your roommate isn’t home. She’s probably still in a late class or at her boyfriend’s or somewhere else. You enjoy the quiet enough to not think about it too hard.

The five sips of tequila-mostly-water has settled into your stomach by now, making you a quarter-second slower when you strip all your clothes off and climb into bed. 

You twist under the sheets, and after a while your skin starts to feel too hot, even in the cold air of your room. Breathing deep, you try to think of something boring to get your mind to still, but when you sense the sleep about to take over, it switches.

You see his face behind your eyelids, the man from today, strong and pretty and delicate, remembering all your favorite details—the length of his fingers and the depth of his voice. You curse yourself for assigning this importance to him. He’s just another page in your portfolio, if you even keep him, yet you can feel a slow heat bubble up at your core when you remember the stretch of his body under the robe. It’s okay to be taken with him, you think, he’s objectively gorgeous. 

Your conversation with Ian replays in your head—less about his sincere advice and more about how you need to get laid. It’s been too long; maybe you are just horny, and maybe taking care of it just this once could be enough to stop this hollow interest from growing. 

You reach a hand down under your blanket, the tips of your digits pushing into the slit of your cunt. You’re wet, arousal tacky and pooled so much that the light pressure you meant to be exploring with is enough to have you accidentally slipping inside. Okay, he’s really hot. So what? Was it really that bad if you thought so?

You dip a finger further in, timid at first; you’re used to keeping quiet for this kind of activity, and even though your roommate was gone when you got here, it doesn’t mean she hadn’t come in in the thirty minutes of rolling around you’d done before giving into your desire. You lay your free hand over your mouth just in case, teeth biting into the meat at the base of your thumb to keep yourself quiet. 

You slide in a second finger to the knuckle to join the first, the light stretch of it enough to make you pant. You see him again, hard and soft and beautiful. You think about what his skin would taste like, if he’d let you sink your teeth into the sinew of his neck. It feels weird to know what he looks like without his clothes, and you’re weirdly proud of yourself for holding back from seeing him fully; it's easier to dream about that way. You wonder how he’d present himself to you, how he’d want to fuck you. You imagine him winding a hand around the hinge of your jaw, fingers pressing hard into the soft of your cheeks. Would he be gentle? Would he make it hurt? You suspect either would be too much. You feverishly palm your clit, hips canting in an effort to climax. The pictures flash faster—his cock in your mouth, his tongue in your cunt, the way he’d spit and grip and hold—and you’re coming, drooling over your hand as you hear him say your name in your mind. 

You take your hand away after a minute, breath pushing out heavily from your nose. It’s fine, you needed to do it, just one time. No shame in that. It’s out of your system now. 

And if you see his face one more time before you fall asleep, it’s probably an afterthought.

───────

By the end of the week, you come to a horrible conclusion. 

It starts the next morning when you take your sketchbook out, itching to get a handle on the many writing assignments you’ve been dutifully ignoring, hoping for an outline or a free-flow of ideas. Nothing comes to mind. You draw a little bit to fill the space while you think, just a mess of material on the page, strokes of your hand that leave barely anything behind. 

Then on Wednesday you’re at your laptop, typing with one hand while the other one slides against the wood of the dining table, down and around in a loop, mimicking the same shape each time. 

And again last night in the shower, letting the shame of a different semi-failed night-out wash over and off of you. You slosh your foot around in the water in the basin below, catching it as it runs down and pools, ankle dragging in a tiny, controlled movement. 

It’s not until now that you put it together.

You’re sitting at your desk, with creative materials at your disposal this time, trying to make sense of what it is you’re forming. You find that no matter the medium, your hand automatically makes a single hard line. The same line, from memory. It’s negligible at first, just a light press of pen or pencil or crayon, until it drags down, down, down. It’s not until you lift your utensil that you recognize it. The hook of a nose and the crest of a top lip. 

A hard pit forms in your stomach, blood draining from your head to gather in the center of your chest, a blooming sickness of obsession you haven’t felt in a long time. You’re drawing him. You’ve been drawing him. You know this feeling, have participated in this kind of behavior. These are the actions that cause the humiliating dregs of attraction to bleed over into fixation—juvenile and universal and unavoidable.  He’s going to be a problem.

[ghostboneswrites2]

ђคɭɭ๏ฬєєภ ђ๏гг๏г

A Daryl Dixon Fanfic Challenge

Welcome back, fellow Dixon fiends, to yet another mediocre challenge from yours truly. 🩸

This challenge is (obviously) in honor of spooky season, so let’s jump right in! 👻

How to participate:

Simply select a prompt from below the cut and get to writing! 🔪 Be aware, each prompt has a unique set of challenges!

🩸Deadline is October 31!

🩸Winners will be announced in the second week of November!

Once you’ve completed your story, just post it, tag me, and tag the post #ddhh so I can find them all easily!

Rules:

Daryl Dixon x Reader only!

500 word minimum*

5k word maximum*

Must be able to stand alone!

Can be part of an ongoing series, but again, must be able to stand alone without outside context.

Writers may only enter one story from one prompt.

Please clarify which prompt you chose somewhere on your post.

* minimum & maximum word counts are approximate!

Prizes & Results:

Each prompt category will have one winner each.

Results will be decided via polls beginning in the first week of November.

🩸Each poll will be up for voting for 7 days.

🩸Winners will be announced in the second week of November.

The winner from each prompt will:

🩸Be tagged in an honorary winner post!

🩸Have one story of their choosing linked to every fic I post + my masterlist until December 31, 2024.

Prompts:

Choose wisely! Each prompt has its own unique set of kill counts, quotes, advantages, and challenges.

Here is a key for reference:

Kill Count: Mandatory number of deaths.

Setting/Era: Mandatory setting/era.

Quote: A line that must be included in your dialogue.

Challenge: Something that may make a prompt harder than the others.

Advantage: Something that may make the prompt easier than the others.

Slasher

summary: A classic, gory horror trope! Someone in the group has gone insane! The horrors of the post-apocalyptic world has driven them mad! They’re killing everyone! Who are they? Why have they done this? Who will survive?

setting/era: must be set either in Alexandria or the Prison

kill count: 4 to 8 kills

quote: “How could you?”

challenge: The killer must be a canon character from your chosen era, and your kills must also be canon characters from your chosen era. Killer cannot be Daryl or Reader. Killer also cannot be a canonical villain (like the Governor, Termites, Negan, Alpha, etc.)

advantage: Kills can be done with any weapon of choice, to any character of choice.

Supernatural

summary: A (supernatural creature of your choice) is terrorizing and killing off members of the group. What is it? What does it look like? How does it kill? More importantly, how will the survivors kill it?

setting/era: The Greene Farm

kill count: 3 to 5 kills

quote: “What the fuck is it?!” / “Dead, as soon as o figure out how.”

challenge: Supernatural creature cannot be a ghost, demon, or other spirit of any kind.

advantage: Your supernatural creature can be a classic (werewolf, vampire, wendigo, etc) or it can be something completely original and unexplainable. This gives freedom to describe your monster with as much/little detail as you please.

Paranormal

summary: A paranormal force has made its presence known and brought pain and terror upon its victims. Maybe it’s a demonic possession taking over one of the survivors, maybe it’s an angry spirit taking its home back. You decide!

setting/era: —

kill count: —

quote: “Kill it!” / It’s already dead!” / “So are the walkers!”

challenge: Your paranormal entity must not be visible to the human eye, creating an extra layer of difficulty for the survivors.

advantage: Kills are optional. No mandatory setting/era.

FAQ

Do major characters have to die (like Rick, Carol, etc) or do minor characters (like Olivia, Axel, etc) count towards the kill count as well?

Anyone can die!

Can my supernatural creature be anything that isn’t a ghost or spirit?

Yes! Could even be an alien!

Can I write a story for multiple prompts and only use one for the challenge?

Sure! You can even post them! Just be sure to specify which one you’d like to enter in the challenge, even if you do so by just sending me a message.

For the Slasher prompt, who qualifies as a villain?

Good question. Lots of morally gray characters on TWD, so it can be hard to decide who’s a villain and who’s just an asshole. For our purposes, let’s say Negan, Alpha, the Termites, and the Governor are the villains that are off limits.

Credits:

dividers from: @sister-lucifer

I do not own TWD and its characters, blah blah blah.

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s @l0kilaufeys0n7 @uhnanix @superbowlisgay @liizzygrant @eddiemunsonsupremecy @raeraegoaway @ophelialaufey @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfsalltheway @negansbestie @mfnqueen1 @raynelbabe

[fl3shm4id3n]

𝓑𝓵𝓾𝓮 𝓢𝓴𝓲𝓮𝓼

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝'𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬. 𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨. 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ɴᴇᴛᴇʏᴀᴍ x ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ! ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ꜱᴏɴɢ: ʟᴀɴᴀ ᴅᴇʟ ʀᴇʏ- ᴄɪɴɴᴀᴍᴏɴ ɢɪʀʟ

Tw: Teenage love, mentions of passed bullying, weapon mentioned (spear), mamas just want what’s best for their kids, Tonowari being a loving father, Titanic reference, confession, kissing. 

Author’s note: I thought of spicing things up a bit, they will be more conflict later but not too hard because I am rooting for Neteyam and Y/n. Also comment some ideas for the next part, idk how long this series will turn out, but I'd like to see what you guys want to see next. I hope I’m not moving too fast, I just really love where this is going. I also forgot to add the masterlist on the other fics, I’ll be sure to add the link.

P.s. I apologies for late tagging people on my taglist, its my first time doing a taglist and I go back to my other posts and check the comments to see if anyone else would want to be tag. Also for some reason some of the people I tag won’t pop up, sorry :(

Masterlist

Neytiri knew something, she knew that her eldest son had began to catch feelings for someone. The thing is she had no idea who her son was falling head over heels for. She wanted to know who it was and find out fast because the curiosity would consume her, if he ended up lying to her, she would not be happy than she already isn’t. Neytiri was still mad that she had to leave her home, it still irked her that her family will now have to live differently then what they were used to in the forest. 

She wanted to keep a close eye on him but she would be invading his privacy, her mate was already hard on their kids, she didn’t want to be that kind of mother, but if it was for the sake of her children, so be it. Neytiri will give Neteyam some space, allowing him to tell her when he is ready.

Even after that talk with her mate, Ronal was still worried, she feared that her child may be taken away from her from an unworthy mate. She wanted her child to be happy but with the right person. It was hard enough that y/n could not mate before eywa light rest of the people due to her being different. Ronal did not like to call her child a human, humans were demons that destroy beautiful things for their own benefit.

Y/n was strong, yes she may not be a na’vi but she is a strong girl who deserves to be a Tsahik in the future, but she knew that the responsibility will lay on Tsireya due to being the oldest. She hopes in finding out who this person was sooner rather than later, before it is to late. Every time Ronal looks at Y/n, she sees her as a baby she once held for the first time, her small body covered in red, her baby. Ronal would do anything in her power to keep her baby happy.

You had finished getting ready for the day, instead of going for swim, you decided to go practice with your spear. You wore a top that was made of rope, seaweed and some pearls that hanged. For the bottom you wore a small skirt around your hips made out of light and dark net, you tide a cloth under you to cover your intimate parts. You tied your hair up to keep it out of the way, when you were using your weapon. 

When done you left to the beach, the day had been going smoothly. Some kinds were running around playing in the water, the fishermen had come back from the ocean with fish, everything was normal. You stopped in a small spot that was bit farther away from the beach, it was like a training ground of yours and your father’s. You both would come here to practice on how you could use a spear. On your thirteenth birthday he gifted you the spear he made for you. You loved it very much, you didn’t allow anyone to touch, the people who could touch it was Tsireya, your mother and father. You didn’t trust your brother with your spear, he’d probably break it or something. 

You were throwing your spear as hard as you could, you wanted to go farther than you already were. Your father has taught you how to use a spear from a young age, due to it you had got some muscle, you wish you were more muscular like him. Also not to mention what you can do with a blade, when your mother found out that your father gave you a blade at a small age, she nearly popped a blood vessel. Ronal was very protective of you, she feared that anything could harm you due to not being a na’vi. Tonowari had a talk with her about you learning how to fight and such, he knew that one day they will not always be their to protect you, he wanted you to be a warrior and to fend for yourself when they were no longer around.

After what felt like a while, you managed to throw the spear farther away hitting a palm tree near by. You began jumping of joy, you finally manage to do it. “Good shot” you stopped to turn, seeing the oldest forest boy. You felt your face feel a bit warm. “Oh, thank you, I didn’t know you were here” you said as you walked over to the palm tree to get your spear. Neteyam walked closer, just incase you need help with pulling out your spear.

You got a good grip on your spear and pulled hard enough, taking the spear out the palm tree. Neteyam watched as his mouth dropped, you were strong, of course you were, you’re the daughter of the Olo'eyktan. You smiled at him seeing his face. “What?” you giggled which made him change his face real quick. “Oh! Nothing, you’re just... really strong” he said shyly looking away as he rubbed the back of his neck. You smiled at him “well, you can thank my father for that” you said walking back to your spot having him follow. “Would you like to try?” you asked making him nod, no questions asked.

You had been showing Neteyam how hold the spear properly, you didn’t mind having to position his arms the right way, you loved being close to him. Neteyam was trying to do what he was told but he was distracted by you, how close you were. When you’d instruct him how to properly hold it and positioned him, he felt butterflies in his stomach, he also couldn’t help but look at you, you were just so beautiful. “You ready?” You asked as he then snapped out of his trance and nodded. “Okay, now throw it as fast as you can” he did as he was told. The spear landed on the sand, a couple feet away from the palm tree. 

“Nice shot, soon you’ll be able to master a spear, you’ll be a...pro?” you said a bit confused, trying to use the word he used the other day. Neteyam chuckled seeing that were tying to use the word. “I’m not as good as you” he mentioned making you smile at up at him. You got a good look at his features again, you loved seeing him, you wouldn’t mind staring into his eyes for the rest of your life.

You then walked over to were your spear was breaking the trance you had on him. “Have you gone to your lessons today?” you asked retrieving your spear. Neteyam shook his head “no, not yet, shall we go?” he asked as you nodded, walking over back to him and leaving together to where the rest of the teens were.

As you both walked towards the small group, you heard a deep voice call out to you. “Y/n” you turned to see who it was, it was your father. “Coming!” You shouted back, turning to look at Neteyam “you go, I’ll catch up.” You said towards the tall na’vi in which he nodded and left towards the group, you walked over to your father, spear in hand “yes father?” you said looking up at the gentle giant. “Come, lets go for a ride, we haven’t gone in a while” you nodded, following him.

You both approached to his skimswim, Tonowari got on first then he helped you hop on, you sat in front of him holding tightly onto your spear and held onto the handle of the saddle. Then you both took off, the ride was silent but you like having a moment like this with your father. He’s a scary looking giant but he was gentle at the same time, you’d referred to him as a gentle giant a couple times since you were smaller. The skimswim dived underwater, taking you both down with it. It made you smile, since that the creature felt playful today. Your father looked down at you smile, making his chest warm up seeing his child happy. 

It reminded him when you were a child, the first time you were scared of the creature but you warmed up to it. Since then your father would take you on rides with his creature. When you went back up to the surface for a breath, you laughed “that was fun” you said petting the skimswim, making the creature wag its tale for being praised. Tonowari then asked “so, tell me, what are your thoughts on the Sullys?” he asked as you looked up at him. “They seem very nice, well, Neytiri is a bit scary like mother... don’t tell here I said that!” you playful warned your father making laughing at you. “I won’t” he said. “But, Neteyam, he is really nice to me, well all the sully kids are nice to me including Jake, but he is the sweetest.” 

You said feeling your face heat up, your father noticed this, he knew that look very well. He had that same look when he began to catch feelings for his now Mate Ronal. He hummed then talked “y/n? If that boy makes you happy, don’t let him go” he said catching you off guard. “Hm? what do you mean?” you asked a bit confused. “I know that look, you have the same look when someone is interested in another, I was young once too.”  Now you understood, he was referring to your feelings towards Neteyam. 

“You approve of him?” You asked curiously, he smiled down at you “just a bit, he still has to prove himself though, so far he is doing a great job” he said, this made you happy, seeing that your father seems to be approving of Neteyam. “Thank you father” you said smiling at him, he pulled you into a hug, in which you hugged him back gladly.

Neteyam was wondering where you were, the lesson was over, he was worried that you had got into trouble. Then he saw you with your father on his Skimswim approaching, he saw that you father told you something before you got off and swam towards the group, then he saw your father take off. “We were wondering where you were” your brother said as you finally reached them. “I was with father that’s all” you said. 

“Well, the lesson of today is over, so everyone is just going to do whatever” Lo’kak chimed in, giving his brother a look, making Neteyam glare at him. “That’s alright, you guys have a great teacher” you said refuring to your sister. “What about me Y/n?” Ao’nung asked giving you a look, in which you pretended to think for a moment “you’re alright” you said making the group laugh, in which your brother let out a dramatic gasp. “My own sister thinks I am alright? How outrages” he said chuckling.

Everyone swam back to shore, going their separate ways. Only leaving you and Neteyam, it was silent until you spoke “so, do you want to do anything?” You asked looking up at him. You noticed how he had a little smile on his lips “I mean, I did promise you a ride on my banshee” you got excited now “shall we do that?!” You asked, and he responded “if that’s what you want, then yes, lets do it” he said as he took your hand, now taking you were his banshee was.

When you got to where is beast was, you were nervous, you had never seen such a beast. “Don’t look at him in the eyes” Neteyam warmed you, in which you looked away from the beasts face, not looking at its wings. They reminded you of a skimswim but instead of being in the water, they were from the sky. Neteyam got close to his beast, petting him and calming him down. “Want to pet him?” he asked as you nodded, walking closer towards him, he took your small hand and placed it on the beasts head. You softly pet him, feeling him purr under your touch. “Wow” you said fascinated by the beast. “Cool right?” Neteyam asked as you nodded while still petting the beast.

Neteyam got on his banshee and latched into him using his queue, then he turned to you and helped you up onto the banshee. He placed you in front of him and guided your hands to hold into the settle. “Ready?” he asked as you turned to look up at him “I was born ready” you said, Neteyam then gave the cue to his banshee, then the beast took off onto the sky.

You held tightly onto the handle and closed your eyes, afraid that you may end up falling. Neteyam took a note of this, then he wrapped his free arm around your waist and help you tightly close to him. You felt your face heat up at the feeling of his arm. After a couple minutes, you opened your eyes and looked around. Seeing how high you are in the sky, you felt fascinated seeing how close you were towards the clouds and near the blue sky. 

When you looked down, you saw how small the village looked smaller, the air felt good going through your hair, it felt as good as when you go swimming. You slowly let go of the handle then stock your arms out on both sides, wanting to feel more of the wind. Neteyam was confused at first but he saw how relaxed you were, he still held onto your waist keeping you safe while his other one held onto the banshee. 

You didn’t even notice the time, it was going to be dark soon, the sun was setting. You had landed on a small mountain near the village, seeing the sun set. It was beautiful, even better with the person you were with. “I had fun today” you said looking at Neteyam who had a smile on his face. “I am glad” he said looking down at your small face, he just loved looking at you, he could just stare at you all day, forever if he could. He had a feeling that he needed to say, if he didn’t say it he’ll probably regret it later. 

“Y/n, I have been meaning to tell you something” Neteyam said shyly, now your face turned into one of curiosity. “What is Neteyam?” you asked as you felt his lard hands taking yours into his. “For the last few days, I’ve been having feelings, feelings I’ve never felt before, ever.” He took a deep breath, he felt like a fish out of water now, getting nervous. “Whenever I look at you, I feel like, I am at home” he said, his words made your face feel hot. “I see you y/n” he finally said it, he felt the weight on his shoulders fade, but he felt like his stomach drop, fearing rejection by the one who he wishes is his mate. 

Your face felt even more heated, he saw you, Neteyam Sully saw you like you saw him. Still a bit in shock at his confession, you broke into a smile. Squeezing his hand lightly and spoke back to him. “And I see you Neteyam, the moment I first set my eyes on you, I see you” you said seeing his face turn into one of relief. “May I...kiss you?” He asked shyly looking down at your small hands. You smiled at his shyness, softly lifting his head “Of course, Ma Neteyam” You said softly locking eyes with his.

Neteyam leaned down, placing both his large hands on your small face. You came closer towards him, closing your eyes, feelings his warm lips touching your cold ones. This felt nice, this felt right, you placed your smaller hands on his large ones that held your face. You stayed like that for a bit before slowly pulling away from him and looked into his sun colored eyes. Then he whispered only for you to hear. 

“Ma Y/n”

Taglist: @byunpum, @moony-artemis, @aonungs-tsahik, @rennyramen, @somewereinthegalaxi, @em-asian, @fanboyluvr, @mashiromochi, @eternallyvenus, @teenagemuffinlampcalzone, @ssophiebirkas​, @fanficblogs,  

[whatswrongwithblue]

The Fire in The Sin

Chapter 1 - Pilot

Word count: 6,993. No TW other than canon typical stuff for this first chapter. Read on AO3 Series Masterlist

Series Summary:

He took her face between his clawed hands and kissed her, hard and quick.

“So now that I have you back,” as he spoke, his voice crackled and lowered several octaves, and the room darkened as he allowed his power to slip out just enough to make reality around them go fuzzy. “I’m not letting you go.”

In the 1950's, Alastor met the woman he would eventually marry but unfortunately his Radio Demon persona went for her soul rather than her hand. He has to learn what it means to love, and cherish, without possessing and he does. Their relationship is beautiful, strong, unbreakable . . . but he carries a dark secret through their marriage for decades until eventually he has to face the consequences of that secret and leave her, without warning, for seven years. He returns, finding her at the Hazbin Hotel, and has to convince her to forgive him, while being literally bound to secrecy, unable to tell her any of things he now is desperate to explain to her.

(This is a duel timeline fic, timestamps will be a the top of every chapter.)

Chapter 1 - Pilot

Present Day

The Radio Demon strolled down the packed sidewalk, humming as he went.

There were several business sections of Pentagram City and this was one he had been most familiar with, though it had changed quite a bit in the last seven years. It was irritating to say the least and left him feeling close to the same amount of disorientation as his first days in Hell, nearly 100 years prior. Not that his irritation could show through his expression with his ever-present smile plastered across it.

No, unless a demon was a part of his very, very, small circle of close confidants and was used to the subtleties of his body language, Alastor seemed aloof and unbothered as he continued on his way. Hands clasped behind him, holding his cane at his back, his steps never faltered as he continued to mentally mark the changes to the neighborhood he once knew so well.

Right next to the feeling of uncertainty, was its sister emotion, indecision. His very first day back in Hell and Alastor was having a devil of a time figuring out where he should go first.

Who should he find first?

Never mind all that now; best to reacquaint oneself with their surroundings before he forced himself to decide on a direction. Take it all in, as they say. And a particularly dense crowd had formed up ahead at what looked to be the location of an old radio shop here in town. It didn’t look like it was doing so well but the owner was under contract with him, and it wasn’t as if Alastor had been around lately to enforce his standards upon the place. Oh well, he thought with a mental sigh, at least Vox hasn’t gotten his cheap wanna-be 21st century claws into the place. It’s nothing I won’t be able to rectify in due time.

Alastor drew nearer and noticed the warning posters with his likeness posted on the wall of the shallow alcove around the window display. It was hastily done but still fresh, meaning his contracted soul, though clearly slacking in his duties, still remembered him. Better yet, still feared him. That nearly made up for the tacky television sets and their obnoxious technicolor presence sitting just on the other side of the windows.

A decade ago, Alastor would have made a show of breaking the glass, smashing the TV’s, and summoning the shop owner just to drag the pathetic demon through the streets with his shadowy tentacles.

Unfortunately for Alastor but rather fortunately for all the other viewers on the sidewalk next to him, The Radio Demon’s temper had been put in check seven years ago when the invisible chain around his neck had tightened and forced him into secrecy and an embarrassing amount of . . . good behavior.

Pulling him from his daydream of carnage and vengeance, the images on those offensive screens were the first things to really grab Alastor’s attention during the first few hours of his return to the Pride Ring.

Charlotte Morningstar.

The daughter of Lucifer and the Princess of Hell was advertising her new hotel to all the Sinners of her father’s Kingdom.

Well. It would seem as if the stage had already been set for him.

Time to begin Act I.

____

In a dark alley several blocks away, the air suddenly blistered with heat as a portal bloomed into existence a foot above the ground, its fiery edges dripping small chunks that blackened the concrete below.

Mina stepped through and the portal snapped shut behind her the second her tail was past its perimeter. It took only a few milliseconds for her heightened feline eyes and ears to check her surroundings for those who may have spotted her entrance, and she gave a small sigh when she was sure there were no witnesses to her little secret. A small blessing after such a long day of hunting. Killing and disposing of the mess would be easy but she was in a hurry to get back to the hotel and relax.

Not that she would (or could) admit it out loud to anyone, but she was exhausted. That short-horned drug smuggling little twat that she had been assigned to track down had put up more of a fight than she had anticipated. Underestimating the enemy was a stupid, rookie mistake. Giving the illusion of helplessness was Mina’s M.O. after all, and it was embarrassing that some common Hellborn had nearly beaten her at her own game.

The job had taken up all her allotted time on Earth when she had been hoping for a few precious hours to devote towards her own agenda.

Finding Alastor.

Mina hoped her old coworkers were in an extra spiteful mood during their shift so that smuggling demon that ruined her day got an extra-long and painful session in The Pit.

She also hoped that spot lighting as the main guest on the news used up a good portion of Charlie’s enthusiastic energy. Hopefully her new “friend” didn’t have any obnoxious group activities planned for the rest of the day.

All she wanted was to get back to her room with a strong glass of wine and a book so she could drink, read, and mentally escape her loneliness for a few hours until sleep found her.

A nice, quiet evening.

____

“This ridiculous thing you’re trying to do! This hotel! I want to help you run it.”

“Uhhhhh, so you’re not here for-“ Charlie started but with an incredibly unsubtle shake of her head, the petite Spanish speaking demon with the oddly angelic looking spear, stopped her from finishing her sentence.

“For what, dear?” Alastor prodded, leaning forward. The Princess was to be completely in the dark about the entire ordeal and yet she seemed to know something he was unaware of.

“For . . . for, um . . . for redemption! Obviously,” she laughed nervously, sneaking another glance at her companion.

“Oh, of course not, that’s wacky nonsense!”

And he continued, giving Charlie a well delivered lie about entertainment, while deliberately leading her away from the clearly less naïve members of her staff.

­­­­­­­Steering her clear of the influence of the other two, however; kept him out of earshot of Vaggie and Angel’s conversation.

“. . . who we can’t risk getting involved with unless we want to end up erased.”

“Ya done?” Angel chuckled.

“He’s also Mina’s husband,” she deadpanned.

“Veeeery funny, toots.”

“I wouldn’t joke about something like this,” Vaggie said, somehow frowning even deeper. “And when he up and disappeared, she nearly tore Pentagram City apart looking for him. Most of Hell thought she was just his plaything but with him gone, her fury was unleashed, and she stopped hiding her true strength. They say only Abaddon was able to step in and control her again. That was her with a broken heart, imagine what will happen when she finds out he’s back and not looking for her.”

“That guy? He looks like a strawberry pimp,” Angel laughed again, “No way he’s the fella Mina has been all bent out of shape over.”

Vaggie made a vague “uuggghhh” noise and rose from the couch, marching over to Charlie and pulling her into a different corner of the room.

“Charlie, listen, you can’t believe this creep. He’s a dealmaker, an overlord, and more importantly, he’s the one Mina has been trying to get over! The whole reason behind her decision to join us!”

“I know he’s bad, and clearly, we don’t know what really happened between him and Mina, but I can’t just turn someone away. It goes against everything this place is supposed to stand for. And who knows, maybe a reunion will actually help. I know they probably don’t wanna change, but if they really were in love, then maybe there’s a chance this will go well!” she finished with a small, hopeful smile.

Vaggie’s shoulders sagged. She knew that look and knew Charlie’s undying optimism had won over logic.

____

Alastor walked around the hotel parlor, once again humming, and mentally gathered up as many details as he could.

Over the decades he had perfected the art of not only knowing when people were talking about him, but also understanding when they were merely admiring, fearing, gossiping, or worst of all, keeping secrets.

And this trio was definitely hiding something from him.

“So, where is your hotel staff?” Alastor asked, leaning low to get uncomfortably close to Charlie. Uncomfortable for him but much more uncomfortable for Miss Morningstar.

“Uh . . . . well,” she paused, and he knew he was close to this mysterious subject matter.

“Alastor!” a high-pitched voice screamed from the stairs and recognition dawned on him before he had even turned around.

“Niffty!” he announced with his hands in the air as the one-eyed maid scurried to shorten the distance between them. Within seconds, she was propped up on his shoulder like no time had passed. “My darling girl, just what brought you to this fine establishment?

Niffty opened her mouth to answer but Charlie beat her to it.

“She’s our maid! DUH! Hahaha, she’s just the best. Soooooo, you two know each other?” she asked, her voice ending a few octaves higher than normal.

Alastor and Niffty blinked at her in tandem for a beat before Alastor spoke.

“Of course I do, my dear, I own her soul. Sssoooooo,” he drawled, in a perfect mimic of Charlie, “I’ll ask again. What is she doing working for you?”

“I came here with Mina,” Niffty said with an uncharacteristic look of confusion.

Alastor eyebrows shot impossibly up and his body went visibly stiff.

“Oh shit,” Charlie said for the second time that day.

His head snapped in her direction.

So that was the princess’s big secret. Fascinating. Of all the places he was planning on looking for his wife and she somehow knew exactly where to be when he came looking.  So now his next question was . . .

“And why is she here, darling?” his eyes shifted for only a second to Niffty to indicate he was asking her to respond, but then settled right back on Charlie. The ever-present smile doing nothing to make his expression look less malicious.

“Oh,” Niffty said, and with a deep exaggerate breath, she began. “She heard a rumor that Heaven had something to do with your disappearance after she tore apart a whole bunch of bad guys looking for you and Abaddon told her about Charlie trying to get people into Heaven and then because she felt she had nothing left to lose – those were her words exactly-”

Niffty giggled and took another breath. Alastor continued to stare unblinkingly at Charlie.

“-she wanted to see if it would actually work and even if it didn’t help her find you then at least she got to fuck over Heaven one way or another – again her words exactly – so she told me to come here with her so Charlie would believe she could contribute something and the hotel was really nasty and there were a lot of roaches when we first got here and Mina gave me this really big needle to stab them with and I killed them all in the first week but Mina’s been really nice about it and keeps summoning more for me to kill-“

“Okay, that’s disturbing,” Vaggie interrupted and motioned for Niffty to climb down from atop Alastor. “Alright, so whatever, Mina is here. And she’s almost as dishonest as you, big surprise. You clearly didn’t come here looking for her, so you don’t get to be mad that we didn’t tell you she was here within the first three minutes of you showing up.”

Alastor laughed and put a hand to his chest.

“Please, my dear, I’m not angry. Why would I be upset? This simply saves me the very next trip I was going to take once I settled in here.”

That wasn’t necessarily true, nor was it a lie. He was still on the fence about what he was going to do with Mina. On the one hand, he did want her around and knew she would find out about his return sooner rather than later. Best to make it appear he had been looking for her as well. On the other hand, she would make things very, very messy for him going forward if she got involved without knowing the whole picture.

“Wait,” Charlie said, looking between Alastor and Niffty, “That’s why Mina came to the hotel? But I thought she believed in me? She seemed so sincere . . .”

Vaggie put her hand on her girlfriend's shoulder. "I mean, hey, look at the bright side. The way Niffty tells it, Mina really does think it could work, she just wants it for . . . er, different reasons."

“Oh, that would be just like her,” Alastor said as he continued with his pacing and examining the space around them, “she always was a deceptive creature. And the best lies are always the ones with a healthy peppering of truth to them.”

“Hmmm, sounds like you two really are a match made in Hell,” Vaggie rolled her eyes.

“Is it true? That Heaven had something to do with you leaving-“ Charlie gasped, “Oh, did you actually go to Heaven?!”

“Charlie, dear, I think my first business lesson to you as your new hotel manager will be to help you understand that rumors are often just that. Heaven. Oh my, what a grandiose claim. Come now, I bet there are far more entertaining rumors out there about my absence.”

The four hotel occupants just stared back at him.

“So, when are you expecting her back?” Alastor asked, spinning around and once again invading Charlie’s space.

“Oh, any minute now . . . I’m sure. Or maybe later tonight. Could be tomorrow . . . we don’t really know.”

Alastor’s smile remained but his eyes turned to slits.

“Ooooh, daddy can’t wait to get a little somethin’ from the missus?” Angel said from his lounging position on the couch. “Been a while? You know, if you need to let off some steam before the big reunion-“

“Ha! No," Alastor said, turning to shadow and disappearing from Charlie’s side to Angel’s faster than the spider-demon could finish his last sentence. “Very well then, looks like I’ve got a lot of work to do around here, and I would prefer to get a good start on it before Mina makes her appearance. I suppose I could call in a few favors.”

­­­­­­­­­­____

Mina used to enjoy going for walks through Pentagram City. She was always a restless spirit, even in life and well before Alastor. Traveling had been one of her passions and although in Hell she wasn’t allowed to leave Pride Ring, she was sure to put in a few miles on the soles of her shoes when down time allowed for it. New souls were arriving all the time, making her home in the afterlife an ever-changing metropolis with boundless secrets to explore.

But walking home from work? That was a bitch.

It was the most annoying irony that she was one of a handful of Sinners with the ability to not only portal around Hell, but also to the living realm, but she had to keep that fact a secret and therefore had to walk an ungodly amount of distance just to keep up appearances.

She was beginning to let go of her plans for indulgences in order to crawl straight into the arms of sleep when the hotel came into view.

A large golden blimp-like machine was positioned above it that seemed vaguely familiar. She was sure she’d seen it around during the turf wars the wanna-be Overlord Sinners tended to strike up now and again. If it was at the hotel though, that could spell trouble for her. Not in any life-threatening kind of way but it may force her to expose certain powers she was no longer supposed to be in possession of.

Mina ran up the hill to the hotel, formulating a plan as she went. She would have to find a way to draw whoever was operating the machine out and into earshot of her voice. Or, if she really had luck on her side, the machine would have some kind of listening device, and experience had shown her that was enough for her siren powers to at least subdue an enemy. No angelic fire or portal would be necessary.

And then she saw the shadowy tentacles begin to wrap themselves around the machine in a crushing grip and drag it down.

There were few Overlords in Pentagram City who utilized the power of shadows. They were a tool for teleportation and espionage. But there was only one demon who was powerful enough to manifest them as tangible and prehensile weapons of destruction.

Mina’s feet stalled without her realizing and despite her sprint uphill, her breath caught in her throat. The only part of her left moving was the undead beating heart in her chest.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­____

Alastor threw the last bit of intent and rage into his magic as the tentacles tightened their grip and began dragging the machine downward.

The disgrace of being at this place, the idea of having to entertain every whim and fancy of Lucifer’s daughter, the audacity of him, the Radio Demon, being controlled. He was going to have to play a delicate balancing game of keeping up this ridiculous front while also re-establishing his reputation and he was going to have to do it all with Mina right there beside him. He had done everything he could before his disappearance to ensure she was not involved, that his damnable secrets were far from her grasp, and apparently all that work had been undone in his absence.

Abaddon.

His shadows squeezed impossibly tighter at the thought.

These fallen angels were even worse than their still-heavenly relatives.

Mina was going to be impossible to handle now. Her infuriating stubbornness and tendency to question everything was almost certainly going to get in his way. He didn’t know how he was going to pull it off, but Alastor had made a reluctant decision:  he had to get her out of this place.

With a final burst of power, the blimp was pulled under into the shadowy realm below and what was left on the surface exploded, disintegrating into nothing but smoke and dust.

He had gone seven years without her companionship, he could push her away for a little while longer. It would hurt her even more than what he already had, but she was strong. They were strong. Once everything came to light, she would understand.  

Then the smoke began to clear and there she was. Just a silhouette at first; a slender feminine form in the distance.

The small black ears with a rim of golden fur were the first dead giveaway that it was really her. Her shiny jet-black hair was next, and he noted it had grown substantially longer in the last several years. But she still wore the same shin length orange sun dress she had favored since the 60’s, and it was paired with the black knitted sweater she almost always adorned to hide to her shoulders and arms. Trailing behind her, her long, black-furred tail swished slowly back and forth low to the ground.

It was only when he could make out the details of her green and gold flecked eyes, could see that her vertical pupils were blown into wide orbs, that Alastor realized she had been walking towards him.

And that he had been likewise drawn to her.

Damn all his deals and secrets. Every demon and angel in every spiritual realm he could name was forgotten in that moment.

As his contemporaries were likened to say, they could all get fucked.

Mina was right there, close enough to reach out and grab. So, he did.

____

Before Mina could make her brain process anything enough to form words, she took a lung full of air in and breathed in the scent of the man crushing her to his chest.

It was like the humid, warm breeze off the ocean. The still, murky waters of a swamp. A damp, cool woodland at twilight.

She buried her face into his collarbone, just next to his bowtie, and breathed.

It really was him.

There was no passionate display of long-lost love, no desperate kisses or words of longing. Public displays of affection were never their thing. Well, it was never Alastor’s thing, and she went along with it to keep him comfortable. The only time she could recall him kissing her in front of others was on their wedding day. But the way he was holding her now, folding her body perfectly against his own, told her how much he had longed for this embrace.

No one would be able to pull off a mimic this true to his character, so she knew instantly this was the real deal.

Everything she had fought over, killed over, nearly died over, over and over and over again for the last seven years. Right here, in her arms, and she could practically feel the relief coming off him in waves, nearly as strong as her own.

She looked up at him and there it was, his trademark smile. Even after decades together, one of the few things she had never called him out on was that she was sure he couldn’t not smile. Whether it was a consequence of his demon form or his magic, she wasn’t sure, but she knew down to her bones that he was being forced to smile.

There were other more reliable ways to read his body language if one knew him well enough. His eyes mostly, his ears if he was distracted enough were also a good give away.

So she also knew this was him genuinely happy.

“Alastor,” she whispered, her Irish accent only showing through in her pronunciation of the “r.”

“Bonjou ma amour,” he replied, dropping his Trans-Atlantic accent for his native creole one, something he reserved for her and only her. It had always worked to weaken her resolve, even decades ago when she had still been trying to avoid his advances.

She took a small step back, just enough to be able to visually take in all 7 feet of his presence, but kept her hands on his arms.

“You’re really here,” was all her flustered brain could manage.

“It would appear so,” his voice crackled with static, and her world spun in response to the long-lost perfection of it.

She paused for another beat, gathering her thoughts. This was all so much process so suddenly.

Mina took a deep breath in to steady herself.

“Tell me everything,” she said.

Alastor tensed, a subtle shift in his posture, and smiled wider.

“Oh, where to begin,” he said, turning to stand beside her and putting an arm around her waist before suddenly pulling her past the small crowd of hotel residents that were unabashedly watching their reunion. “It’s quite the tale, my dear, and I’m sure it’ll all be told in due time but at the moment it looks like you and I have some things to attend to first.”

He opened the front doors of the hotel as if on cue and guided them inside.

Mina stopped short, which was not easy given how strongly Alastor had been pushing her along.

“Like hell,” she said, crossing her arms “you’re going to explain everything and you’re going to do it right now.”

Alastor’s eyes flicked back and forth between her and the other residents that were also filing into the lobby. He was clearly getting agitated and quickly.

“Mina,” he said slowly, “I hardly think now is the appropriate-“

“Hey!” Charlie said, coming to stand between them, “don’t let us ruin this special moment! Minaaaa,” she said, pulling her by the hand and gesturing towards the staircase, “why don’t you show Alastor your room and you guys can take however long you need to catch up. We’ll all understand that you need some privacyyyyyy,” she ended in a sing-song voice, elbowing Mina playfully.

“Yeah baby, a seven year dry spell,” Angel said, passing them without even looking as he headed straight for the new bar. “Wowza, now that really sounds like hell.”

Mina did a double take as she just now noticed the new bar and Husker.

“Wha- nevermind,” she said, quickly choosing to ignore Angel’s comment and what was obviously Alastor’s addition to the lobby.  Instead, she focused her attention back on her husband, given him her most pointed glare and crossing her arms again. “Shall we?”

“Alright,” he said, feigning a more relaxed tone, “if you insist. I suppose seeing our quarters should be at the top of my list anyhow.”

Mina’s shoulders sagged with relief and she took his hand, guiding him along, though he could feel the rest of her tumultuous feelings building up, likely to explode once they were alone.

____

­­­­­­­­He should have known Mina was going to interrogate him right away. Not that he could blame her in any way. If the roles had been reversed, Alastor knew he would have gone quite mad with the lack of information and control the situation would have left him in.

Who was he kidding? He was just a hair away from that already, and he had a far better picture of what was really happening than she did.

Stepping into the room, he had a second to take in the décor, some of which he recognized from his old radio tower and felt a twinge of pride knowing she had brought it here just because it reminded her of their old home, before the door slammed hard behind him.

He closed his eyes and sighed, then put on his best innocent smile as he turned to face the wrath of his scorned wife.

“What. The FUCK, Alastor!”

Ah, she was starting with the swearing already. He really abhorred yelling and unnecessary vulgarity, yet he had to go and marry an Irish woman.

“Where would you like me to begin, my love?” he asked, ever the professional radio host by keeping his voice calm and level, knowing it likely only infuriated her more. Best to fan the flame so that it blazed hotter and burned itself out faster.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, love, begin at the fucking beginning!”

He opened his mouth to speak even the vaguest answer that his mind could come up with and found he couldn’t utter a sound.

Mina stared at him, her frustration and hurt evident in every sharp line of her posture.

Alastor took another breath and tried again. The sound of a radio dial finding nothing but empty airwaves as it searched from station to station filled the room for a few beats before he gave up.

He couldn’t utter a single word that was on the tip of his tongue.

As it turned out, when he was told he couldn’t talk about it, it was meant to be taken literally.

He would have to find a way to work around that. Somehow.

“May I just say,” he began, “that I truly did miss you. It really was a terrible experience.”

There, he could get that much out at least, and it was very much the truth.

“Oh well that’s lovely, I’m glad taking off without a God damned word to your wife and leaving me high and dry for seven fuckin’ years wasn’t exactly a holiday for you.”

Tears were building in her eyes and threatening to spill over as her accent thickened with her emotions. He stepped towards her but she took two steps back.

“Mina,” he said, doing his best to sound sincere, though he knew his cursed smile often made him look more guilty than not, “I really am trying to find the words.”

“Where have you been?!” she yelled, her voice cracking as she nearly sobbed out the words.

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” he answered sadly.

“WHY?!”

Words continued to fail him so he tried reaching for her but she pushed past him instead, walking deeper into the room as she angrily wiped tears from her face. She was rarely the type to cry from sadness, nor was she one of those women who got weepy from tender moments, but Mina was susceptible to tears when angered and Alastor knew it embarrassed her to no end.

He felt great pity for the situation he had put her in and hated himself for it. It’s why his first instinct had been to push her away before the guilt he knew she would make him feel complicated his plans even further. But she was here now and with the unfairness of the situation being rubbed in his face, he was suddenly determined to make things right with her. So much had been taken from him already, and he had played his part well up to this point, so he deserved to at least be given this slice of his life back.

Mina stopped pacing and fixed her eyes on his.

“You knew, didn’t you? You knew you were leaving the last time I saw you. I could tell something was wrong and after-“ she stopped, heaving in a shaky breath before she could continue, “You don’t know the things I did trying to find you. I hurt people I cared about. I hurt people you cared about. I couldn’t even fucking think, Al, I was sure someone had killed you. And then I remembered the things you said that last day and I . . .” she put her hands to her face, covering her eyes like she was trying to force her tears to stay in.

He came to her then and she finally let him. Cautiously he placed his hands around her wrists and pulled her hands away.

“I’m sorry.” He sounded pathetic, even to his own ears, but he knew anything else he would try to say would be shoved back down his throat.

“Just tell me it wasn’t your choice,” she begged, “Tell me where you’ve been and who made you leave. I’ll keep your secrets, I swear, you know I will. I don’t care if it’s dangerous. I need to know. I need to know, Alastor. Whatever happened, please, just please tell me!”

He tilted his head at her and frowned, concentrating on what order of words, what phrase, would get her intelligent mind on the right track. This magic that was binding him was tricky, but if he couldn’t outright tell her things, perhaps he could pose the right questions for her.

“Do you really think I would have voluntarily left you?”

That gave her pause and he could practically see the wheels beginning to turn behind her feline eyes.

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. You know me. Better than anyone. And that doesn’t sound like me at all, does it?”

“I don’t know you!” she said, trying to shove him away but he held on fast to her arm, “How can I know someone who’s been gone for that long? Let me go!”

She pulled on her arms but he didn’t let up. Mina was strong and perfectly capable of exerting more force if she really wanted him to free her. But even in their most heated of arguments, neither of them had ever raised a hand in anger to each other, and Alastor counted on her to not do so now. So he held her tight and smiled wider as he felt her give up.

An outsider would have watched and thought him malicious, but this little display of temper was far from what either of them were capable of.

“You do know me,” he said once she had stopped struggling, “and while I am bound to secrecy for the time being, I promise I will deliver eventually. You just have to trust me.”

“I don’t trust you,” she spat, her ears pinned back even flatter than before.

“You’re going to have to if we’re both to get through this.” He let go of one wrist and cupped her cheek, surprised she allowed him to even do that much, and used his thumb to wipe at a solitary tear.

“Fuck you.”

He chucked, “Perhaps later, ma amour, but I don’t think the mood is right for that at the moment.”

“Fuck you!” she repeated, with more venom this time. She hit a closed fist against his chest and he was momentarily shocked enough to not react. “You don’t get to do this!”

She hit his chest again and this time he did react, grabbing her again by her wrist, unable to stop himself from holding just a little tighter than necessary. Mina stilled in his grip but not before a low literal growl sounded from her chest.

“You don’t get to show up and act like nothing has happened and smile and make your fucking jokes and think I’m just going to play along. Do you really think I’m that weak?”

“No,” he answered darkly, still smarting from the two strikes she had gotten in. They hadn’t physically hurt but they had taken large chunks out of what was left of his patience.

“Fuck,” she whimpered, beginning to sob in earnest now and she dropped her gaze from his and hung her head. “I am stupid.”

“You are far from stupid," he said flatly, with more static and less empathy than he intended but honestly, he should get an award for putting up with this tantrum of hers as well as he was.

Mina just shook her head, still looking down.

“I am so stupid. For believing you  . . . all those years. For thinking that just because you married me, that we were happy together, that any of that meant a damn to you.”

“Mina-“ he cautioned. The room was beginning to darken as his shadows responded to his own emotions spinning out of his control.

If Mina noticed his display of anger, she showed no response.

“Why did you come back?” she sniffed, and Alastor’s shadows halted their climb up the walls at her question. “Why bother if you won't even tell me why you left?”

The shadows retracted their ascent as Alastor’s own feelings of injustice melted away. Of course she had hit him, he was lucky she hadn’t done worse. The fact that she hadn’t was a testament to how much she still cared. Through all of her pain and uncertainty, she still loved him. Still felt safe enough in his presence to express her real feelings.

Beneath his smile, he gritted his teeth and swallowed his pride. Leaning forward, he placed a small kiss to the crown of head, right between her flattened ears.

“To es l’amour de ma vie,” he whispered into her hair.

You are the love of my life.

It seemed to do the trick as she slumped into his arms, crying in earnest now, but allowing him to wrap his arms around her. She had a vice like grip around his torso as she hugged him back and that was far more uncomfortable than the insulting blows she had dealt before, but he allowed it all the same.

They remained that way for a while, her crying as he stroked her hair, and let her work through her feelings to the point of exhaustion. He was a little worried for his jacket as he felt her claws grip into the fabric at his back but it was a small price to pay to get her calm enough to hear what he had to say.

Or at least, what he could say.

He began slowly, testing his words for both their sakes. Her name was always his favorite, so that was what he led with.

“Mina,” she quieted a little at the sound of her name, so he pressed on. “I need you to trust me.”

She shook her and pulled away, just a little. “I don’t know if I can.”

He sighed. “Do you want this to work out?”

“Of course I do,” she frowned, looking insulted and it was exactly the response he was hoping for.

“Good, because I’m telling you what needs to happen for that to be a possibility. Now, I’ll tell you one bit of honesty that I think is safe for me to say . . .” he paused, waiting for the block to happen and when he felt no resistance, he dealt the blow. “I didn’t come to this hotel looking for you. I didn’t even know you were here.”

She hissed in a breath but didn’t pull away more so he continued. “I was planning on finding you, when things had settled, when I was in a position to tell you more, because I know how unfair all of this must seem to you right now. I do. But now that you’re here anyway and have gotten yourself wrapped up in this mess despite my absence, there’s only one thing for it.”

He took her face between his clawed hands and kissed her, hard and quick.

“So now that I have you back,” as he spoke, his voice crackled and lowered several octaves, and the room darkened as he allowed his power to slip out just enough to make reality around them go fuzzy. “I’m not letting you go.”

The room snapped back to normalcy and Mina stood there, as affected by his power display as she was by the kiss. But it wasn’t fear that showed in her features, it was excitement just shy of arousal. He had never doubted she would remain faithful to him and that would have left her incredibly touch starved and she had always enjoyed his more demonic side. Maybe it was a low blow to manipulate her in that way, but Alastor needed every trick up his sleeve to keep her listening.

“I’ll try to trust you,” she began, “but I need you to give me something more to work with here.”

“Alright then, I will try as well. Allow me a moment to think?” he asked, and she nodded cautiously, never taking her eyes off of him as he slowly strode around the room, one hand behind his back with his staff, as the other went to his mouth, held there in concentration.

“A ha! I think I’ve got it,” he said, “It doesn’t appear to be too much to tell you that I need to gain Charlie’s trust. I don’t even need her to believe that I believe this hotel can work but I do need her to trust me as a confidant that has her best interests in mind. I’m afraid I can’t say more than that for now.”

Mina frowned, looking troubled. “I don’t like this.”

“What’s to like?” Alastor agreed, “I can’t tell you anything you’re dying to know, my own wife is going to spend the next several months questioning my every motive, and we’re going to have to continue this ridiculous façade being nice to these people. It’s going to be miserable!”

There was the tiniest twitch of her lips that hinted he had almost gotten her to smile.

“That’s the first thing you’ve said that I 100% believe.”

“Then there is hope for us yet. So, here’s my next completely honest statement and it’s my promise to you,” he said, taking her hand to place a small kiss to its back and smiling wickedly. “When all is said and done, you will know everything and I heartedly plan on you getting your brutal revenge.”

Mina allowed her hand to linger in his for a moment longer before she pulled it away.

“Fine. I’ll play your game. For now. But I’m not going to pretend for your sake or anyone else’s that I’m happy with you.”

His confident expression faltered for only a moment before he caught himself and pulled away from the disappointment. She wouldn’t be able to hang onto her anger forever, not now that he would be constantly around to remind her of what they were together.

He inwardly admitted that he had forgotten that as well; what a powerhouse they were when they worked in tandem. Perhaps if he had considered that before . . .

But the past was the past, and as he had told Charlie earlier, there is no undoing what is done. Alastor would be smarter this time and utilize every opportunity that came his way rather than going at it all alone. If he played his cards right, he could increase his odds of coming out on top, free himself from his cursed deal, and gain Mina’s trust back all at the same time. In fact, it would seem those two things together were mutually assured. It was so completely expected of him by those he stood against that he would continue to keep her out of this affair.

Mina had excused herself into the little en suite bathroom of her room to freshen up and while he waited for her to exit, he began re-imagining his plan going forward. Yes, it would seem more fortuitous than he first thought that she was already here at the hotel. If she already had an in with Miss Morningstar and had begun to earn her trust, it would be that much easier for him to assert himself into that dynamic.

A bit later, as they descended the stairs together (Mina pointedly not accepting his hand as they went), he leaned in just enough to whisper to her, “Follow my lead.”

He practically bounced from the last two steps as he entered the lobby where conveniently, everyone had remained.

“Well I’m starved, who wants jambalaya!”

Next Chapter ->

[perseephoneee]

(For Ficmas 2023) Isaac Lahey and cookie decorating

cookie decorating (isaac lahey x f!reader) {ficmas 2023}

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ happy day 12 of ficmas!

warnings: allusions to sex

a/n: its christmas eve! this one is short but i wanted to keep it sweet and to the point. thank you guys so much for joining me in this journey to write 12 fics in 24 days (honestly exhausting, but i'm happy I did it). reminder that my requests are open, and to join my taglist if you want to read more of my work in the future. i have a couple requested fics that i need to work on, but i'm hoping to start having a regular posting schedule for you guys in the new year. once again, ily and thank you guys for supporting me always <3

↳ masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ ficmas 2023

Before your last school vice principal was killed by one of the many werewolf problems that arose in Beacon Hills, the high school didn’t have as many “school spirit” events. There were the typical ones, but truthfully, not a lot. But then, the high school needed a new vice principal, and suddenly, Beacon Hills High School was experiencing an influx of school-wide events. Some of them were incredibly stupid, annoying, and trivial, but occasionally there would be one that would excite all the students. This was one of those times. 

“I am happy to announce that for the holiday season, we will be doing a series of competitions centered around winter,” Mr. Bean, the new vice principal, announced at a school assembly one morning. You almost skipped it but were caught by Coach Finstock in the hall before you could sneak out. Your boyfriend, Isaac, was asleep next to you. “They will be non-denominational, of course. But what is the prize, you ask? After careful consideration, it was decided that the team that gets the most wins out of the twelve contests will get automatic As for the winter break homework– that’s right, a free pass!”

That got the students awake, chatter filling the auditorium as students daydreamed about not having to do any work over the break. You also perked up. Even though you were a good student, you never got an actual vacation with how things went in your life, and your brain almost couldn’t process all the reading and napping you’d get done if you didn’t have any homework. 

“Isaac,” you hissed, slapping your boyfriend in the arm. He groaned as you awoke him. “We are entering this.” He looked at you in confusion as you explained the competition to him. That seemed to wake him up. 

“I’m not doing too hot in Chemistry right now, so that’d be great,” he mumbled, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. 

“You told me you were okay!” 

“I lied,” he shrugged, and you slapped him in the arm again. 

“I offered to help you with your homework.”

“I wanted to make out with you instead.” That made you roll your eyes, but you didn’t get the chance to chastise your boyfriend as you finished listening to the rules of the competition. 

The following days went by as pretty much every student in the school participated. Everyone got points for the challenges, and the team with the most points got automatic As. There would be two runner-ups who got Bs. You questioned whether any of this was legal, but your lust for winning overtook the rational part of you. Your competitive nature shined as you and Isaac quickly rose to the top of the leaderboards. Between your book smarts and Isaac’s athletic prowess, you took the contests by storm. There was trivia, a sledding race, a snowman competition, and a relay race. Ethan and Aiden were The only team close to beating you two, which just spurred on Isaac more. Even Scott and Stiles, who had fallen behind since they spent more time arguing like a married couple than cooperating, were rooting for you and Isaac just to see Ethan and Aiden go down. 

The final contest wasn’t anything crazy but required precision and focus. Cookie Decorating. Of course. 

You hunkered down at your house, baking cookies and looking at YouTube tutorials for the best way to decorate cookies. You had some cookies look like ornaments, others like reindeer, and a couple as snowflakes. Unfortunately, Isaac had grown distracted about half an hour into your baking adventure. Which meant he had turned to distracting you. 

“Can we take a break?” he sighed, sitting at your counter as he watched you add frosting to piping bags. 

“We need to turn these in by 4 pm today, so we need to hurry,” you responded, tying off the plastic piping at the top and looking at your sketched designs before adding anything to your cookies. Isaac slid off the stool, standing beside you as he watched you draw careful shapes. You weren’t paying attention to him, so you missed the devilish smirk on his face as an idea came to him. He pushed your hair to one side, standing behind you as he wrapped his arms around your middle. You hummed, still focused on decorating, when he pressed kisses along your neck and shoulder. You became hyperaware of his lips on your skin as he licked a line from your artery to your jaw, hot, open-mouthed kisses following soon after. You bit your lip to stop a gasp from leaving your mouth. “Isaac,” you hissed in warning when he bit down, coaxing a sigh from your lips. 

“Y/N,” he hummed, his hands dipping under your shirt and running up and down your sides. His hands were cold and made you shiver wherever he touched you. 

“You’re being a nuisance,” you whispered, hand shaking as you kept trying to decorate. 

“Take a break,” he smiled against your skin, continuing his ministrations. You tried to calm yourself, but after making another mistake in decorating, you growled in frustration and turned around in his arms. 

“You’re obnoxious,” you muttered, back pressed against the counter as Isaac had you cornered. He just smiled, leaning down to kiss you as he had you caged against the counter. You let him kiss you, hands running up his arms, tangling in his hair. You let him take you to your bedroom, make love to you, and effectively distract you. And when he was done being needy, you went back to finish decorating the cookies, wearing just his shirt and underwear, even letting him steal one when he thought you weren’t looking. 

You ended up winning the competition, much to the chagrin of Ethan and Aiden, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as you spent winter break in peace with Isaac. 

[lokisprettygirl]

Deadly Locks (Detective! Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon Au) (Dark )

Read Chapter 1 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 2

Summary: Daemon tries to put the clues together to capture the barber killer. Amidst all the torture all you could think about is him.

Trigger Warning: Rape and torture, 18+ , smut, It's a crime thriller so there would be some squeamish dark stuff, read at your own discretion, mention of rape, assault and murder, Speeding and driving under the influence, Reader has long hair, Daemon's hair is up for imagination, Cigarette consumption, some geographical errors

Note : I changed the name of the fic

“How do you know her?” Daemon asked the man sitting in front of him. Pierce Madej was the last man on your call history.

“We teach at the same school” Pierce told him, he was a tall man, with fluffy hair and hazel eyes, you certainly seemed to have a type. He knew he'd have to keep his personal feelings away from this case, any mistake and he'd be taken off the case since he knew one of the victims.

“And you were calling her at 2 am to discuss grades?” There was a snark in his voice as he questioned the visibly nervous man in front of him.

“No it was her birthday, and..uhhh-”

“And?” He raised his brow as Pierce stuttered on his words.

“Well she had finally agreed to go out on a date with me and we were making plans and now she's uhhh—”

His eyes teared up as he thought about you which made Daemon feel conflicted. Did you like this guy? If yes then did you feel anything more for him than just attraction?

“Did she say anything in regards to being stalked or followed? Anything that stood out in the past week or so?”

“Yeah..well last week she mentioned very casually that she thought a vehicle was following her but she didn't seem very nervous about it–”

“Always have been that way..her own safety wasn't really her top priority “ Daemon mumbled under his breath so Pierce stared at him awkwardly,

“You guys will find her right?” he asked Daemon but didn't get an answer in response. Daemon wanted nothing more than to find you but he had reached a dead end again, the killer he was dealing with was too clever.

“Did she happen to mention the type of car she thought was tailing her?”

“Blue Honda i think.. ..she said it seemed very old and rusty as if it hasn't been serviced in a long time”

“Thank you for your cooperation ..stay in the city for a few days” he nodded as Daemon dismissed him.

His day only got worse when he was informed that a woman named Rebecca Malone who lived in the Holywood area has been missing since last week, she didn't have many people in her life and was used to missing work for days before so nobody really cared about reporting it until now. A lock of her hair was found near her residential area, two abductions in a span of a week? That seemed bolder even for him. All of his previous three victims were found a month apart from each other.

“There has been hysteria going on .. beautiful women in their early thirties are cutting their hair short”

Jake said to him which made Daemon chuckle in response.

“Well that's a smart thing to do isn't it?”

Perhaps what you should have done as well.

**********

You opened your eyes and for once there was light in the room and you weren't on the concrete floor but you were on a bed of sorts, your hands were cuffed, they were cuffed. As the man wearing a robbers mask leaned over you, you closed your eyes and tried to disappear in your head again.

“Did you bring it officer” as soon as Daemon entered your bedroom he found you on the bed, you had a very sexy lingerie on and you seemed very much in the mood. You had been begging him to bring the handcuffs home from work for days ever since he had been promoted to the police officer post.

“You're a very naughty girl, you know that?” He asked you as he took his official jacket off, he looked so good in the uniform, so strong, so magnetic, you felt turned on by him every time you put your eyes on him. That's not how he saw himself but you did, he was the prettiest man you had ever known, inside out.

“Well I haven't exactly been following the law.. officer” he smirked as you said that, you lifted your fingers up to shove aside the hair that fell on his forehead but he grabbed your wrist and handcuffed you immediately.

“Ooooh” you let out an yelp as he attached the other cuff to the bed post

“You have the right to remain silent mam” he mumbled playfully to get into the roleplay but there was a mischievous smirk on your face.

“Mmmmhmm..but i didn't really ask for the cuffs to use it on myself…officer”

Eyes stung with tears as you came back to your reality, you could feel the cold air hit your skin as there were no clothes on your body anymore and you could feel him slathering the lotion all over your skin. Again.

“Mmmm i love your skin..it's so soft..you take care of them don't you” his voice gave you goosebumps, you had read about him in the news, you knew he didn't have any good intentions for you and you definitely knew that he intended to kill you at the end, in a very inhumane and brutal way. The last time you struggled against him, he had made you bruise up from head to toe so this time you stayed calm for your own sake.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why why why? You all ask the same question..I hate that you know” his voice came out all whiny, he took his clothes off but the mask stayed on his face, you couldn't see his face but you saw his eyes, hazel eyes, the little detail made you think of Daemon again but the man that was going to rape you wasn't the man you loved. He never would have hurt anyone like this.

“Is that your mother..that woman?” You asked him calmly and he started to laugh,

“Yeah my mother, i love her, do you like her y/n? Do you think she's nice? You have met her quite a few times i assume”

Quite a few times? You had met her twice while she came and sang you a creepy lullaby before she pricked a needle inside you to keep you dazed and confused.

“Not really”

His eyes flickered as you said that, a scream escaped your lips as he entered you with no warning, you were dry as you could be so the penetration really did hurt.

You wanted to hurl, you closed your eyes as he raped you until he was done with his release, you didn't even know how many days it has been but you had been through this two times already and you weren't sure how long he was planning to keep you. Once he was done he used a disinfectant to wipe you down from deep within, he didn't want to leave a single strain of his DNA on you,

“Who's the other girl ..I hear her” you mumbled between your tears so he chuckled,

“You do take it alot better than her..she screams and screams, might as well have to cut her tongue out” he gave you a smile that gave you chills “Or i send her in here..you could be besties with each other, do what girls do huh..Ask her to be quiet when I'm fucking her..that if she's willing to keep her tongue”

He untied your hands and picked up a long dress he had brought with him and dressed you up, it seemed old, perhaps it belonged to his psychopath mother. Then he dragged you towards the corner of the room to chain you up like an animal again.

After that he was gone, the lights went out as soon as he had left the room and you were forced to sleep on the cold hard floor again, your thoughts kept drifting towards Daemon, oh what you'd have done in the moment to find yourself into the warm and safe bed and in his arms.

You felt the weight on the other side of the bed so you turned around to look, he was finally home, ever since he was promoted he didn't really have much time on his hands and you missed him badly.

“Hey there pretty boy” he turned his head and gave you a smile, he seemed exhausted and you could smell the sweet scent of the body wash he had used in the shower.

“I thought you were asleep” he slipped under the duvet and got on top of you to kiss you sweetly,

“I was..but you woke me up”

“Ouch..sorry” you smiled as he said that

“Mmmm you're worth losing sleep for”

“Fuck I'm exhausted my love ..”

“I know.. sweetheart..you want to sleep?” your voice was a melody, melting in his ears like a symphony.

“I want to be inside you..i want to feel you all around me love”

You bit on your lower lip as he said that

“Mmhhmm?” You pulled his cock out of his trousers while he slipped your panties down from under your silk night dress, he moaned in your ears as you rubbed his length over your slit, coating the tip of his cock in your wetness.

He slipped inside slowly until every inch of his cock was stilled deep into you,

“Mmmm ohhh i have missed you my pretty baby ..”

“I love you so much..don't ever leave me” he whispered in your ear as his hips moved in and out of you slowly. His cock was hard and pulsing inside you but his demeanor was always gentle, he was so soft with you, not that you didn't enjoy it when he was rough but more often than not he was so delicate in bed with you, treating you like a queen and you loved that about him, you loved this man who seemed so tall, scruffy and intimidating but deep down was just a boy who needed love and plenty of it.

His movement halted slowly and then it stopped, and that's when you knew he had fallen asleep so you wrapped your arms around his neck which woke him up and he started moving again

“Hey stop ..you can sleep baby i promise..it's okay..it's okay” you cooed softly so he placed his head between the crook of your neck,

“Let me stay in please” his voice was pleading and it made you feel warm in every possible way.

“I'd love that”

You stepped out of your daydreaming as you heard the cries of the woman, she was probably in the room next to you. And then she screamed, as loud as she could. You pressed your hands up to your ears to ignore her wailing but it was in vain, you could hear everything that he was doing to her.

***********

“Mary I need a favor” Daemon said on the phone as he stepped out for his smoke break,

“I am at work Dae, you'll have to wait until the night” she flirted with him and perhaps he would have indulged her if it wasn't for the fear he was living in all the time. Fear of losing you. Fear of never being able to see you again.

Mary was a crime journalist in the Belfast news, he had met her a few months ago because they were working on a case together. One night she had invited him to her place to discuss the case but they ended up having drinks and sex instead. However right from the start he was clear to her about what he wanted, he didn't want a relationship again with anyone else, it wasn't for him, it wasn't going to work like it didn't work with you so their arrangement stayed sexual.

“Mary he has her..I need to find him..i can't –” he took a deep breath in to calm his nerves.

“What do you want me to do? This guy is like a ghost, all the suspects you had your eyes on are not him..he has no record, he leaves nothing behind”

“Blue Honda ..one of y/n’ s friend slash colleague told us that a week ago she was talking about a blue honda following her..it's weird..none of his victims ever mentioned that”

“Yeah because they're dead Daemon “

“But if that was the case at least one of them would have said something to their friends or family prior to the abduction.. none of them said anything about being stalked”

“Alright..what are you thinking then”

“I need to find that vehicle..anyhow”

As soon as he hung up the phone it rang again and it was his mother this time. Again.

“What?” He snapped at her as soon as he picked up.

“That's not how you greet your mother” he chuckled bitterly as he heard the response.

“Well I'm busy right now, do you need something?”

He asked her in a nonchalant manner and then she told him everything she needed from him. When he got inside he was told that your mother was waiting to see him. He wasn't in the mood to see mothers today.

“Daemon” she immediately ran towards him and hugged him, everyone around him stared at him so he pulled the weeping woman away from him and took her to his desk.

She was inconsolable which was given considering the situation. She begged him to find you before it would be too late, the thought of her daughter succumbing to the same fate as those other victims kept her up all night long. She didn't come here to see him as the detective who was handling the case but as the mother of the daughter who had been with him for five years. That was five years of birthdays and festivities that he had spent with you and your family.

She still considered him her family.

Around 10 at night when he stepped out of the precinct the press from several publications cornered him and probed him for information but he didn't have anything to tell them and even if he did he wasn't going to share it with them.

His mum had invited him to dinner and he needed to buy things for her before he could go see her so he drove towards the nearest Tesco. On the way out of the store a man walked past and bumped into his shoulder with an unwanted amount of force which resulted in him dropping the groceries bags.

“Watch out you rascal” he yelled at the man but the man didn't even look back at him, he just kept walking away. Daemon went down to pick up the bags and that's when he noticed the car that pulled out of the parking lot. Blue honda..rusty and unkempt..

He immediately ran towards the vehicle to get a better look but it was too late and he had already sped away, he didn't give up though, he got inside his car and chased the car but he wasn't able to keep up with it. The frustration he felt in that moment was indescribable.

“God dammit” he punched his fist into the steering wheel ..his instincts screamed at him that perhaps he had found the lead that he was looking for.

He went back to the store and looked for the CCTV footage but the killer had his hood up and a mask on his face, even his eyes were covered by glasses. He enquired about his purchase list and all he had bought was a woman's body lotion and a pack of cigarettes. Same ones he got for himself. The cashier wasn't alarmed by that because it was just one bottle. He was clever. Very clever.

He got the footage taken and sent it out for BOLO immediately before he went to his mother's.

She was at the door to hug him and as always he was cold in his response, he forgave her but he didn't forget what she had put him through all his life.

“Oh my babyy what did you do to yourself?” She asked him as she looked at his bruised knuckles but he just shrugged in response and stepped away from her to keep the groceries down on the kitchen table.

“I got everything you asked for..I'm gonna go now”

“No stay for dinner.. please..we will watch a movie”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as she said that but he obliged. After his father passed she was all he had in the name of family and then he met you. His scrappy girl, there had been a time in those five years where he took you for granted because he thought you'd always be there with him, maybe that's the mistake he shouldn't have made.

It cost him you.

*********

You cowered in the corner as the door opened again, the psychotic mama entered and she sang you a lullaby like she had done from the past two days.

“You need to stop him, he's your son, how could you let him do this to innocent people?”

You asked her so she gave you a sinister laugh and then she left, about an hour later the man entered with a tray of food and a bottle of water.

“Eat and hydrate, I need you to stay hydrated” he grabbed your chin and shoved a water bottle into your mouth so you had no choice but to drink.

“Daemon Targaryen..he's your lover isn't he?” Your eyes widened and then welled up at the mention of his name “Marlboro reds…this is what he got..was keeping an eye on him” he took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket to light one up. In a weird strange way the smell made you feel comforted. You closed your eyes and pretended that he was there with you.

“Can I get one?” You asked him so he started laughing in your face while he blew the smoke.

“It's not good for that perfect little skin you got” Your breath shuddered again as he reminded you what he was planning to do to you.

“What is it with you huh? Mommy issues?” your voice was filled with anger and disdain as you spat at him.

“Don't shrink me you fucking bitch” he brought the burning top of the cigarette right near your eyeball but instead of squeezing them shut you just stared right at it.

This couldn't have been your reality right? Once he was done smoking he made you stand up and took your clothes off before he placed you on your stomach against the wall, he doused you in a bucket of water and he scrubbed every inch of your skin with soap.

After drying your skin he did his routine, he covered you in lotion and then he raped you, you didn't scream ofcourse but she did scream.. again. The other woman he had been torturing, she screamed like you thought you'd have, that's the kind of person you had always been, that's why Daemon called you his scrappy girl.

Then where was the fight in you? Why had you given up so easily? You got up from the floor and looked around but the room offered you nothing but a bed that was out of your reach, you couldn't have done anything even if you tried.

********

“I knew you'd come” Mary smirked as she opened the door to a slightly tipsy Daemon.

“I'm not here to fuck..”

“Sure” she crossed her arms so he glared at her,

“I think he bumped into me on purpose”

“What?” She looked at him shocked as he said that.

“That fucking wretched maniac, he bumped into me on purpose, he's taunting me”

“Hang on Daemon..how do you know it was him?”

“I just know..it's an instinct, it's always been with me, how do you think i went from a traffic police to a homicide detective in seven years?” she gave him a smile as he said that. He surely was something, she couldn't deny the pull she felt towards him and she also couldn't deny the genius that he was in his field.

“What did he look like?” She questioned him as she passed him a glass of wine.

“Like a man, he's tall..he didn't turn around when I hollered at him..but I saw the Blue Honda..old and rusty”

“That doesn't mean he's the killer Daemon..don't get your hopes up”

“Geee thanks for the support I guess”

She placed her drink down on the table as stepped closer to him.

“You need to dial down on the emotions Daemon..you know you can't get your emotions involved –”

“I know that” he looked at her and they had a moment of silence before she leaned into him to kiss him, he was distraught and exhausted and a woman's touch felt nice so he kissed her back but then he thought of you, thought of you being scared and all alone, probably tied and hurt and whatever sexual frustration he felt was gone instantly.

“I can't..I just can't..not today”

“And why is that?”

“Don't ask me dumb questions darling”

“Isn't she the one that did a number on you?”

“Your point?” He glared at her as he pulled her way from him, he did despise you at times for leaving him the way that you did but he didn't hate you, he could never.

He went home that night and looked at every report, every evidence they had found on the victims and the site of the abduction, he surely was missing something but he didn't know what.

And suddenly it clicked. First victim Shonda beau was from Malone, Second victim Nyra Michals was from Ormeau, Third victim Dennis lived in The Holyland, Rebecca was taken from Holywood and finally you Edenderry

Perhaps he was reaching in his assumption but the initials of each area where he found his victims from made an incomplete word --

“Mothe-”

He knew where he'd find the killer next.

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Taglist

@daddylokisqueen @iamavailablesstuff @123forgottherest @mcufan72 @shuichiakainx @avalyaaa @ajthefujoshi @tatertati-fangirl @urmomsgirlfriend1

[vixstarria]

Kinktober Day 9 - Spanking

For every day of the month of October I will be posting a little snippet following prompts listed in this post. Most of these will not be full fics, but rather short snippets, set-ups, and, in a few cases, copied bits and pieces of fics I have already published. But, if there is a lot of interest and feedback on any of the snippets, they might just evolve into full fics, so keep that in mind.

Disclaimer: I've posted this before, it is a snippet from my Tav x Astarion x Halsin fic Sweat

The three lounged on a sofa in the house they had claimed for themselves. At one end, Halsin was busy with some ledgers that had been dumped on him - gods only knew why, he didn’t have a head for this kind of work. At the other, Astarion was likewise quietly busy with some novel, biding his time until the last rays of the sun hid. He would be out the door for a hunt the moment it was safe for him. Asmodea sprawled between them, her head on Astarion’s lap, her legs thrown over one of Halsin’s thighs.

Gods, but she was bored.

She regarded Halsin and the open misery written on his face as he tried to reconcile… What was it? Purchase orders of masonry and tools, against what had actually been recorded as delivered, against what had been charged.

Her bare foot slid between Halsin’s legs and pressed into his crotch, through his breeches.

“Could it be one of the missing hammers is here..?”

“Not now, my heart,” was his response.

She continued to lightly rub her foot against the bulge.

“Or is this one of the pillars..?”

“I must finish this before tomorrow,” he said, though he did not shift away from her, and had indeed begun to harden beneath her prodding.

“My, it’s erecting all by itself, why have we bothered to order any supplies at all when we have such marvels at hand?”

“You are truly testing my patience today,” he said in a low growl.

The ledger went flying across the room as she kicked it out of Halsin’s hands. The druid’s nostrils flared and he gave her a smouldering look.

“I warned you.”

She squealed as she found herself suddenly yanked by her leg down the sofa, off Astarion’s lap.

“Astarion!!” she laughed, reaching for him.

“No, no darling, you poked the bear and brought this upon yourself,” he said, unaffected, turning a page. “Now you must face the consequences.”

Halsin pulled her onto his own lap, flipping her onto her stomach, holding her down firmly with one hand, and pulling her pants down with the other.

“You brute! Just what do you think you’re doing?!” she cried out, trying not to laugh.

Halsin, though a generous, attentive and passionate lover, was not ordinarily one for such games, and getting him into a state of mind for one was a rare treat.

A loud sound resonated through the room, as a smack landed on one of her ass cheeks.

“I am teaching you a lesson.”

It could have been much harder, the druid was holding back, as per usual.

“How dare you?! Release me at once, you savage,” she cried, her voice faltering on the last word, as Halsin delivered another smack.

Astarion shifted where he lounged, now watching them through lidded eyes.

“It’s no use, you know - you’re just throwing more oil on the flames.”

Asmodea gasped as Halsin’s hand slid between her legs, stroking her.

“You’re right. Should I cease?”

She struggled and kicked but remained securely restrained by the druid, his digits now slipping inside her rapidly moistening hole.

“Absolutely not. You must remain steadfast and determined. Perhaps double down on your efforts until you see a result.”

The hand between her legs left and delivered a series of blows on her rear, the slaps now having a sting to them. Asmodea moaned between each one.

She looked at Astarion with her best round-eyed pleading face. His own book had been discarded as well.

“Star? My love? My sweet? Are you just - ah! - going to let him do this to me?!”

“There there, my love… I’ll kiss it better once he’s done with you.”

My Kinktober masterlist and prompts post