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ateliersss · 11 months ago

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Blooming Family Part 3 - He Shan‘t Lose

Pairing: Yautja x F!Reader Summary: Mere two months ago, you returned home after the incident on Earth. Now you were back, ready to indulge yourself and go on the weekly "date night" with your mate. If only your unborn pup had better timing… Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 6,716 Part 1: here Part 2: here Masterlist

⇨ Oh, I missed my Mi‘ytiar.

⇨ I can't believe I finally got this done and I'm able to present this to you. Also, my birthday, guys! God, I'm 20 and I already feel old. Please spoil me with comments, re-blogs and likes.

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“Be'jaa, go! Go! Good boy.” You laughed as you watched your four-legged companion chase after the trail he had scented.

Hell Hounds, they were called, and probably the closest thing to a pet you could get on Yautja Prime. You learned quickly, after your first encounter with them, that they were similar to the hounds on Earth, and like hounds on Earth, they had one purpose — hunting prey.

Unlike a curious Beagle, a devoted Pointer, or a stubborn Basset Hound, Hell Hounds were more similar to Yautjas than dogs, both in looks and characteristics. But you still could recognize some traits that reminded you of your childhood dog.

You didn’t hunt with Hell Hounds often — it was more special and intimate when it was just you and Mi‘ytiar — but your mate had insisted that at least one of them should accompany you. As experience showed, the two of you had to split up at times; sometimes he also kept in the shadows, high on top of a tree, to watch you hunt on your own. It was simply a safety measure.

It wasn’t like you couldn’t handle the prey on your own. The creatures you hunted were either as small as a cat or as big as a horse. They were insignificant opponents, laughable for a Yautja and not nearly on their hunting standard, but Mi‘ytiar felt different. He didn‘t care how tiny or weak the prey was compared to him.

It wasn't about him, after all.

Those hunts were solely for you, so you could be a part of his culture without him having to worry about endangering your life.

He had been ecstatic when you voiced your wish years ago for him to teach you how to hunt, how to track, and kill as it was custom on his home planet. And even now, after you had exceeded his expectations, he still was immensely proud of you every time you succeeded.

No, Be'jaa wasn’t only there for tracking or for flushing out his targets, but also for guarding. You were in the final stages of your pregnancy, and your strength, your speed, and your stamina had decreased, leaving you more vulnerable should prey ambush you.

Speaking of him, he had been gone for quite some time.

“Be'jaa?” You called, whistled, and waited for a moment for him to return to you.

When you neither could hear him bark, or see him running towards you, you tried calling him again, “Be'jaa?”

And again.

“Be–”

The other half of his name turned into a strained whimper as a stabbing pain pierced through your body, coming from your stomach. You stifled a scream, but when something wet suddenly ran down your legs, a shaky breath escaped your lips.

You knew what this meant.

Your water just broke.

“Oh no. Not now, my sweetling.”

Clutching your stomach, breathing in and out, you slowly approached a tree and practically slumped against it. One of your hands gripped the meaty texture of the tree trunk for support, the other snaked down and between your thighs. When you pulled your hand back, it was coated with the clear substance of the amniotic fluid.

And blood. There was also blood on your fingers, but it was nothing too alarming. When you had been pregnant with Akail, there had been blood too, but it was still an unsettling sight to you.

“Ahhh!” You cried out as another wave of agonizing pain washed through you, your head thrown back.

As much as you had enjoyed the mostly perfect pregnancy, you had completely forgotten about birthing the pup at the end. Maybe you had just pushed the whole thing aside since the mere memory of Akail‘s birth was still able to instill that deep-rooted dread within your body.

You went into labor when both moons were at their zenith.

Mi’ytiar, who had slept peacefully next to you, was hovering over you the second you tried to wake him up.

It took one panicked look from you and he knew what was going on.

He got up from his lying position on your nest and knelt beside you.

You had already pushed the furs you used as a blanket to the side and he saw your legs shining with moisture in the moonlight.

“My water broke.” You faintly answered his silent question. “Our little one is coming.”

Mi’ytiar was on high alert as he knew what that meant.

He tried to lift you into his arms, his mind fully set on bringing you to Cahrein, the healer, but unfortunately, a contraction hit you right at that moment. The pain plus the one you felt as Mi’ytiar lifted you up ripped a heart-wrenching scream from your throat.

It hurt so very much that you punched him out of instinct, an instinct telling you to do anything to stop the pain, hitting him right in the face.

You looked up at him with wide eyes. “Oh God, Mi‘ytiar. I’m so sorry.”

His heart clenched at that.

You shouldn’t apologize. He’d barely felt the impact anyways, your human strength too weak to actually hurt him, but he didn’t deserve to not feel anything.

He should have felt pain, should have been knocked from his feet.

He had hurt you, had caused you more pain than you were already feeling.

You noticed the guilty expression on your mate’s face and grabbed his hand. “It’s okay, tahní. It‘s o–”

You cut yourself off as you pressed your lips together while another contraction hit you.

“–kay. It’s okay.” You panted, “Just get Cahrein.”

Mi’ytiar shook his head determinedly as he placed his free hand on yours, which clasped his other hand in a death grip.

“Cannot leave you.” He growled.

Another contraction made you cry out, “Mi’ytiar, please!”

It took a lot of persuasion for him to finally leave your side to get the healer.

You understood that he didn‘t want to leave you on your own, out of fear something bad would happen to you if he let you out of his sight only for a second, but you needed Cahrein to deliver your son safely.

The healer had gotten to work as soon as his eyes met your tiny, withering body. Putting aside the various instruments he had taken with him — you recognized them from one of your visits where he had shown you which ones he used for births — he helped you to remove the panties that you wore with the little piece of clothing you called nightie, which you had already pulled up, over your bulging stomach, and out of the way.

Usually, you and your mate slept naked with nothing shielding you from each other’s skin, but since you got closer and closer to due-day you wanted to be prepared. You wanted to keep at least a little of your dignity, not wanting to lie completely bare in front of Cahrein.

Even though you knew he wouldn‘t care, taking his job far too seriously for that, your body in all its naked glory was meant for Mi’ytiar‘s eyes and Mi’ytiar‘s eyes only.

With your mate on one side and the healer on the other, you spent hours in indescribable agony.

Mentally, you were so far gone, blacking out for a second here and there. You barely caught how Mi’ytiar was insistently talking to you, or how Cahrein alternately injected you with a transparent and a bright green fluid.

It felt like a miracle when the unbearable pain decreased bit by bit, but not fully disappeared. Your fuzzy mind and your blurry view started to clear.

With the pain now more bearable, you could finally focus on the natural instinct that told you to push.

What you didn’t know was that the following screams and cries woke up the clan in alarm, gathering almost everyone in front of your home, eagerly awaiting the new addition.

This occasion was special, after all. Their fierce and mighty leader was expecting his first pup, something no one had expected to happen. Ever.

The tense uncertainty inside and outside of your home dissipated as soon as the whiny squeals of your newborn pup finally filled the air.

“Such a bad timing, my sweetling.” You mewled.

Tears were gathering in your eyes and you quickly blinked them away. You didn’t know if it was because of the pain of the contractions, which were now four minutes apart, or out of fear of being all alone in a hostile environment.

With your tongue between your teeth, you waited until the pain subsided, fully intending to call for your mate, but when you did, his name only escaped your lips in a short-winded whisper.

It was like you couldn’t breathe.

Biting back a sob, you formed your hand into a fist and hit your chest repeatedly, trying to get yourself to breathe regularly again. And when you thought you had enough air in your lungs, you bellowed, “Mi’ytiar!”

Your breath hitched and tears finally streamed down your cheeks. You bend your upper body forward, towards the tree, and pressed the palms of your hands against the tree trunk. With your head facing the ground, tears left your eyes, and rolled down the bridge of your nose before dripping down the tip to the forest floor.

You were crying and panting, your body clenching every time another contraction hit you.

“Mi’ytiar, please, please… I need you… please, please.” You begged, your voice barely audible.

Contentment.

That’s all you could feel as you adjusted your lying position on the soft fur and the woolen and cotton fabrics of your nest. It was living up to its name as it reminded you of an actual nest, a bird’s nest; just as round but with more comfortable materials. Mi’ytiar had been very picky, something that amused you to no end.

That and the fireplace embedded into the floor, enclosing the round platform the nest was on, kept you warm and cozy.

You and the pup that was sleeping on your chest.

Little Akail let out little purrs while he enjoyed the warmth of his mother’s body that kept him tranquil and happy.

Only ten hours old and he already had such a significant place in this clan and his parent’s hearts.

You hummed quietly to your pup, only looking up from the endearing sight when Mi’ytiar entered your home and came to a halt in front of your nest, taking in the very welcome view of his (tantalizing naked) mate and his newborn son.

“Don’t get any ideas.” You warned him playfully when you noticed his heated gaze racking over your body.

“Back on Earth, some parents hold their babies like this. The skin and warmth forges a strong bond between them and the baby can get used to its parents’ touch.” You explained, your fingers slowly caressing Akail‘s back.

Mi’ytiar only clicked his mandibles in acknowledgment before he started to take off his armor and his traditional clothing as clan leader.

You had to bite your lower lip, reminding yourself of your own scolding words only seconds ago, but you simply couldn’t help yourself. Your mate was a fine specimen, a strong and gorgeous Yautja. You were one hell of a lucky woman.

You watched him get on the nest, now only dressed in his loin cloth, and he moved on his knees towards you.

You wrapped an arm around Akail — still curled up into a ball with his head tucked under your chin and his feet resting on your belly — and got up into a sitting position.

Mi’ytiar grabbed you by your thigh and hip, lifted you up, and pulled you to him so you were sitting on his thighs while your legs were wrapped around the width of his hips.

He looped his arms around you, drawing you into an embrace, so little Akail was now nestled between both of his parents’ warm bodies.

The smile that had grown on your lips since the moment Mi’ytiar had entered your home was now so bright and wide your cheeks started to hurt.

But you didn’t really care. You couldn‘t hide the sheer happiness you were feeling right now at this moment.

You felt movement against your throat and above the valley of your breasts, and when you looked down as best as you could manage, you saw Akail nuzzle his face into your skin while his tiny hand was now lying on your chest where your heart was beating.

You wanted to cry happy tears.

You had never expected to become a mother, never planned on it, never even remotely wanted it if you were being honest, but having your baby now in your arms made every antipathy disappear.

You placed a soft kiss on Akail‘s head, using as little pressure as possible so he wouldn’t wake up.

“He’s perfect.” You whispered and looked up at Mi’ytiar who was already watching you intently. “Are you happy?”

He cocked his head to the side, his chest vibrating when he confirmed, “Happy.”

He felt Akail‘s small body against his own, felt his tiny body press against his every time he was breathing.

Breathing.

A beating heart.

Alive.

He loosened the embrace of one of his arms around your body to reach between the two of you and for his son, his fingers tracing from Akail‘s forehead to the back of his head — there, he had the same scale pattern as his father, only with reversed colors — and from his temple over the hints of dreads on each side of his little head with his thumb.

Akail was indeed perfect, just like his mother, and he loved him with all his heart already, but the price he almost had to pay for having him here…

“I thought I would lose you today.” He admitted, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

You lifted your head from where it had been resting on his chest to look up at him with a small smile.

“For a second, I thought I would never see you again. I thought I would never meet our son." You nodded, thinking about the sharp pain and the feeling of life leaving your body as your pup fought his way out of you. “But Cahrein had prepared me as well as he was able to. He helped me through it. Who knows, hadn’t he injected me with your blood…”

You trailed off when Akail began to stir. You quickly started to rock him up and down, luring him back to sleep.

“He’s a very gifted male. I’ve trusted him with my life since the first time we visited him together after my arrival here so many moons ago.”

You adjusted your arm and its hold on Akail, the other reached up and cupped Mi’ytiar’s cheek. You let your fingertips glide over the scaly texture of his skin and dragged them over his jaw to his chin, down his throat to the middle of his chest.

“He also told me that I would be able to give you another pup in a foreseeable future…”

Mi’ytiar frowned, asking skeptically, “After what you gone through today?”

You shrugged and leaned your head forward, your cheek pressed against his pec. “I’m not talking about now or tomorrow, my love, but someday. In a few years, maybe.”

Mi’ytiar bristled, a loud rumble shaking his torso. “No.”

“No?”

“No.” He shook his head, a very human gesture in your eyes. “You almost died.”

You smiled into his skin. Protective through and through, even when it came to his own offspring.

You were incredibly lucky to be chosen by a Yautja like him.

It was rare for them to be interested in a human. It was rarer for them to treat that human-like an equal instead of a slave or one of many lovers. It was the rarest for a human to be injected with Yautja blood to largely adapt to their DNA and enable life on their planet.

And Mi’ytiar told you himself — you were the only human ever being Life-Mated to a Yautja who carried his offspring and had a similar leading role as him as the mate of a leader; all in one.

You were the rarest of the rarest, a uniqueness, something completely new.

But humans had birthed Yautja-Human-hybrids long before you, most of them more than one or two.

“The next time will be different, Mi’ytiar. My body will be stronger and mentally I will be more prepared.” You told him and peppered his chest with feather-light kisses before you looked up at him again, a loving smile on your lips. “You shan’t lose me.”

You whimpered in relief when you finally heard the familiar growling bark of a Hell Hound.

“Be'jaa!” You called, “I’m… here!”

You felt something move under you and fill the free space between your bend-over position against the tree. You opened your eyes, which you had closed to calm yourself and your breath, and looked down to see the Hound’s face already fixed on yours.

“N‘yaka-de. Get him.” You panted and watched as Be'jaa turned around to run.

When he suddenly stopped to walk hesitantly back to you, not liking the fact he was about to leave you behind who was obviously in distress, you stomped with your foot and yelled, “Be'jaa, fucking now!”

He darted off and you felt a tinge of guilt for lashing out. After all, he was loyal and a surprisingly good cuddle partner.

“Argh!” You cried out when another stabbing sensation almost made your legs give out.

Once again it felt like you were being torn apart, but at least you didn‘t feel like you were closer to death than life like at Akail‘s birth over 30 years ago. You were kind of proud of yourself, actually, considering you were still able to stand.

Yeah, standing against a tree for support instead of lying in your warm and soft nest where you had actually planned to deliver your second pup. You didn‘t want to give birth in an unsafe environment, with no Mi’ytiar and no Cahrein.

But who would have expected that your pup was ready to be welcomed into the world on a hunt?

You did.

You had felt premature labor pains for two days now, but you hadn’t paid them any mind as Akail was born only six days after those pains had started.

But even those pains had felt different in those two days, so why hadn‘t you just listened to your body when it undoubtedly told you “No!” while you answered Mi’ytiar‘s question “Hunt?” with an enthusiastic “Yes!” ?

You knew the answer to that, too.

While women on Earth had to stop certain activities at one point in their pregnancy and were limited in their doings, Yautja females could still follow their everyday lives throughout their whole pregnancy. Meaning, they could still jump from one obstacle to another, chase their prey, and kill it.

Thinking that you were able to do that too had been utterly stupid and arrogant, but you just didn’t want to seem weak. Yes, the clan had accepted you and saw you as one of them, as the mate of their leader, but you couldn’t stop the suffocating need to prove yourself again and again.

It was unnecessary. Mi’ytiar had told you that, Cahrein had told you that, the Females you liked to spend your time with and considered friends told you that and, hell, even a few Males that were close to your mate told you that.

But here you were, crying and groaning when another contraction cursed through your body. You regretted leaving your cozy home, regretted not being pampered by your loving mate in your nest, and regretted leaving your son behind, who had been by your side all the time, hovered over you in case he had to step in should you need anything in your state, followed you around like a lost puppy if you weren’t napping in your nest.

It reminded you of the time when he had been much younger and much smaller. He had been practically attached to your hip and everywhere you went, he was there. He had been such an adorable and shy little boy. Who were you kidding? He still was, but you missed those times anyway. He had grown up too fast.

You were nervous.

With your arms wrapped tightly around your body, you watched the hustle and bustle in the distance. They were preparing for the departure of the five Young Bloods who would soon leave for a faraway world to hunt and complete their initiation into Adulthood.

Among them was your son, your Akail, who would leave you for who knows how long to presumably search for the largest and most dangerous beast and kill it to prove himself.

Just like his father, you thought.

In the first year of your relationship, Mi'ytiar had told you everything imaginable about himself, and one evening about his own initiation ritual. He had told you how reckless and sure of himself he had been as a Young Blood, how he threw himself into danger to impress his clan.

Although that had secured his position as leader, he’d summoned his son the day before to admonish him to proceed with caution, to be logical and strategic, and to not let arrogance control him.

Lost in worried thoughts, you didn't notice as Mi'ytiar approached you, dropped to one knee, and pulled you to his torso with his strong arms. He nuzzled his face into your hair, his mandibles running through it.

He loved your hair. It was just as soft as the rest of you.

“What on your mind, yawne?” He asked.

“I’m scared.” You breathed.

“On your home planet, oomans worry too when child leaves?”

You put your hand on one of his arms that was wrapped around you. “They do, but not like this. On Earth, human children leave the safety of their homes every day to go to school, to learn, and then they will return. In a few hours Akail will leave the safety of his home to finish school, so to say, but will he return?” You told him absentmindedly, your attention still fixed on the ship. “Human parents don't have to fear that particular day when their children go on a journey to possibly get killed just because of a custom.”

You felt his arms tighten around you. “Do not be scared.” He said.

“I can’t help it. I’m his mother.”

Mi'ytiar let out a chuckle that sounded more like a growl than an actual laugh.

“And I his father.” He said and turned you around, not loosening the close embrace. “I trained him well. Made him strong and made him smart. Doubting my skills, yawne?”

Although he had already lowered himself, reducing his height to be closer to you, you still had to raise your head to look at him.

God, you loved his eyes. Even though there were rare variations at times among their kind — sometimes a lighter shade, sometimes a darker shade, sometimes more orange than yellow — the eyes of all Yautja had the same color.

But to you, Mi'ytiar’s eyes were different, even though one couldn’t possibly spot a difference when he was standing next to other Yautja. To you, they were brighter, more intense, more expressive. Or maybe it was just the way he looked at you, with so much gentle affection and love you wouldn't credit a beast of his stature with.

“Of course, I’m not. I could never.”

You suddenly could feel large arms engulfing your body from behind, pulling you into an upright-standing position, and you just let yourself instinctively fall into their embrace.

You knew those limbs, knew their warmth and their strength.

“Mi’ytiar, the pup… the pup is coming.” You panted and dug your fingernails into his forearm.

You felt him move behind you. He lifted you up, his arms supporting your back and the back of your knees as he held you to his torso. He briefly registered how you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck before he took off.

He ran like he never did. At the same time, he was careful not to let your body jolt around too much as he jumped over fallen tree trunks and climbed rocks to reach the Scout Ship while you clung to him.

Every time a contraction hit, he could feel your body tense in his arms and your mouth press against his chest as you muffled another scream.

Oh, how he wished he could take away the pain, but at least it wasn’t as horrible as it was at Akail’s birth.

Mi’ytiar remembered your glistening tears and your little withering body, how you had squeezed his hand so hard that even he had felt pain, and how you had begged both him and Cahrein to stop it. Especially the fear of death in your eyes haunted him to this day.

He had almost lost you — you, his precious human — all those years ago and it had been his entire fault.

The possibility of becoming a father had been zero, non-existent, and at one point in his life, he had accepted the fact that he may be not meant to be a father. He stopped caring and someday just forgot about it entirely. The wish to continue his line like any proud leader faded away and instead he settled for the idea of passing on his knowledge and experiences to the pups and Younglings of his people.

Then he met you, this petite beautiful thing, when he was lounging on a building near an alley. He heard you before he saw you, heard you and them.

They were calling you strange names and were whistling after you before they decided to follow you down the street. Trying to escape them, you took a left turn and quickened your strides as you crossed the alley.

Mi’ytiar, who was attracted by the noises, slid down the rooftop and soundlessly landed on the metal balcony of one of the apartments. Even from the third floor, he had a perfect view of what was happening down in the alley as the men grabbed you, pushed and pulled on you, and he felt mildly impressed when you started fighting back; kicking, scratching and screaming.

The men’s playful, taunting behavior quickly turned fatal when one of them, fed up with your attempts to flee, slapped you so hard across the face that you stumbled back, tripped over your own feet and fell backwards to the ground.

Your screams quickly turned desperate when one of them pushed up your skirt and tore on your panties, mumbling something about teaching you a lesson, while his companions held you down.

At this point, Mi’ytiar knew something had been wrong. Mating between a Yautja male and female consisted of fighting each other, too, but not like this; not with more than one male and not with the female resisting long after the male fought the female into submission.

Your behavior told him everything he needed to know — you weren’t even close to being interested in mating with those males — and before things could get any worse, he jumped down and killed those who forced themselves on you.

By the time four bodies in various morbid states of dismemberment were littering the alley, your whole body was trembling as you stayed on the ground, cowering.

He had crouched down to your level and one of his bloodied claws reached out to touch your face, your horror-widened eyes watching him with caution.

To him, you were what a kitten was to a human. You were so small, he noted, so small and soft and pink. He also thought you were beautiful, contrastive to what Yautja usually thought about your kind. He took you with him that night and the rest was history.

Even though you weren’t a suitable mate, his clan begrudgingly accepted the idea of a human being with their leader. He couldn’t have pups anyway, so why not just let him indulge himself and let him seek happiness and pleasure in other things?

And then, one day, you told him about your wish to carry his pup. He had been excited, absolutely ecstatic, but not about the image of your rounding belly with his offspring — he knew he was unable to have one — and rather about the fact that you were willing to mate with him in a way that could lead to a child. The fact you loved him and trusted him enough was all he cared about.

As much as he loved his son, he should have done something the second both of you learned that you were pregnant. He had been so overjoyed his human mate was extraordinarily able to have his pup that he never thought about possible consequences.

Anyone would have had serious doubts and would have objected because there was no way a human would survive that, but Mi’ytiar didn’t, too blown away by the prospect of becoming a father.

That changed as the day of the pup being due crept closer and closer, and slowly worry and fear set in.

And to make one thing clear: if you hadn’t been injected with Yautja blood from the beginning — first daily, then weekly, then monthly, until it stopped years ago — you wouldn’t have made it and Akail would have torn you apart from the inside out.

He was glad that Cahrein had kept a cool head and realized that his blood would help you when all other means had failed.

It was like history was repeating itself as he tried to focus on the task at hand — getting you to the ship — and not let the fluid running down his arms and body distract him. He wished he hadn’t dared to look down, to look down and see the blood you were losing, coming from a source that was his fault.

Why did he let you convince him to have a second pup? Why did the mere thought of getting you pregnant again make him so ignorant of your near-death experience? Why did he listen to Cahrein when he told the both of you that another pup was possible? Why did he forget that you weren’t like his kind?

His heavy, thumping footsteps suddenly sounded different, and when you pulled your face away from his chest to look around, you noticed the soft earth of the forest had been replaced by the cold metal of the ship.

As careful and gentle as he could in his rattled state, he put you down on the closest surface he could find — the table used for planning, briefing, and orientation with several holo-maps — and slammed his fist down on the surface. He growled and hissed a few words you couldn’t understand. Your translating earpieces were perfectly fine, but your brain was only picking up the pain shooting through your body instead of noticing any stimuli from your surroundings.

You were so out of it, the tears blurring your view, that you missed the conversation between Mi’ytiar and the holographic image of Cahrein.

“Mi’ytiar.” Cahrein greeted his leader in the customary way of placing his left fist on the right side of his chest while slightly bowing down his head.

“The pup is coming.” Mi’ytiar said without hesitation, straight to the point.

Cahrein rounded the table to stand next to him and he leaned over you to get a better look at you. He reached out to grab your calves to open your legs, but his hands went right through you.

“Pauk. I can’t help her like this. You have to bring her here.”

“No.” You cried out, answering before Mi’ytiar could even open his mouth. “The pup is coming now.”

Cahrein looked conflicted, contemplating about what to do next as he was restricted in his actions. He could already tell that this was going to be hard.

“Mi’ytiar, I packed a Medicomp for emergencies when you said you two would go hunt. Get it.”

You let out a whine when your mate disappeared from your side, which was quickly occupied by the healer who noticed your distress. “Calm, (Y/N), calm.”

“It hurts so much.” You cried out.

“I know.” He retorted and eyed the red fluid running down your thighs to your calves, dripping down your toes. “You need to take off clothes.”

With trembling hands, you started to open the pants-like cloth that hugged your legs like a second skin and circled them from your ankles up to your hips. You struggled with the complicated lacing and cursed as you began to rip on them out of frustration.

Bigger hands replaced yours and when you looked up, you saw that Mi’ytiar had returned and stood between your legs. He used his sharp claws to cut the cords open and he pulled the rest of the garment down. He was more considerate with the bloodied panties underneath and tried not to rip them, although you believed that they were irreversibly ruined.

The first and last time he had torn your panties to shreds, you had scolded him for it after he was done fucking you from behind like a dog in his rut. You didn’t have much of your human clothes left — most of it had been replaced by self-made clothes of local fabrics inspired by their style anyway — but what you definitely wanted to keep was your underwear. So when Mi’ytiar returned to you one day from a spontaneous trip to Earth with a dozen new undies, you had been more than thankful.

Mi’ytiar grabbed your ankles, placed both of your feet flat on the table, and spread your thighs apart, stepping aside for Cahrein to finally take a look at you.

The healer’s holo-image got down on his knees and peered between them at what was happening between your legs.

You wanted to hide and press them back together, but you knew that it wasn’t much of help and just let him do his thing. Instead, you let your head loll to the side and looked at your mate.

Mi’ytiar had his hands in fists, keeping them tightly pressed to his sides, and he watched Cahrein with concern and something else in his eyes. You knew he was worried about you. He tried to hide it, tried putting his true feelings behind the mask of a collected and strong leader and warrior like he always did in dicey situations, but you could see right through it.

“And?” He urged Cahrein to finally give him an answer.

“She is ready. She has to push.”

“What about the blood?”

“Incidental. She has to push.”

So that’s what you did.

Taking a deep breath and gripping the edge of the table for the support, you strained every muscle in your body. The resulting, blood-curdling scream even got the two Yautja to flinch and Mi’ytiar lunged forward. He pried your fingers away from the table where you had been holding on for dear life, and intertwined them with his. You instantly squeezed them and Mi’ytiar let out a surprised hiss.

After a moment, your tense body slumped down. It simply gave up after not being able to endure the pain any longer.

“You need to keep going.”

“I can’t.” You hiccuped, choking on your tears as you shook your head vehemently.

“You can. You did this 30 years ago. It was impressive. I never expected such a tiny creature to survive, but you did. You will again.” Cahrein turned to Mi’ytiar and pointed to the Medicomp. “Take the syringe, take your blood and inject it.”

Rather reluctantly, he loosened the hold you had on him and opened the Medicomp. He rummaged through it, found the syringe, and jabbed it into the flesh of his arm, uncaring of the following pain. You were far more important than anything else right now.

While he filled the syringe with his fluorescent-green blood, Cahrein was talking to you and encouraged you to keep going. He tried to distract you and keep your mind from drifting off to a place of no return.

“Something is wrong.” He murmured after a while.

He had watched Mi’ytiar inject you with three doses of his blood already, but you still were in agonizing pain. You even had lost consciousness twice, something that hadn’t even happened when you birthed your first pup.

You squeezed your eyes shut and only opened them again when the pain subsided a bit. “W-What?”

“You should have started crowning already, but you don’t.”

“Why?” You asked in a long-drawn cry.

Cahrein, for the first time in over thirty years, looked baffled and completely clueless. He couldn’t explain it as he had no idea himself. There had never been complications when the females of his clan gave birth. You were the only exception.

“What are typical problems that arise for oomans during childbirth?” He asked, not knowing what else he could do.

It took a moment until you became aware that you had been asked a question.

“Am-Amniotic fluid e-enters the bloodstream… the u-uterus tears… the ba-baby is in an abnormal p-position… it’s s-stuck…” You offered between pained huffs, trying to come up with as many options as you could think of. “In most emergencies, w-when a natural birth isn’t possible, they d-do a c-section… they cut into t-the woman’s belly a-and get the baby out... and then…”

Mi’ytiar wanted you to stop talking. He wanted you to stop putting images of your cut-open body in front of him. He wanted you to stop making him think of your lifeless form after the pup was pulled out of it.

“You have to incise into her abdomen. I will instruct you.” Cahrein finally said.

Mi’ytiar immediately straightened his back and let out a roar. “No!”

“If you do it, either the pup and (Y/N) survive, or just the pup... but if you do nothing, then they will both die.” Cahrein pressed and eyed you for a second.

You were running out of time.

“I… I can’t.”

He sounded defeated. You had never ever expected to see him like this — so vulnerable, so hopeless, so broken. He was the definition of strength, of courage, of accountability, of resilience, and now only a hollow shadow of the man he was was standing in front of you, thinking about the chance of losing his entire world.

He couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t.

How could it be possible for him to live, breathe, without you?

He had a taste of a life he never wanted to leave, a life he wasn’t able to quit, a life only something as extraordinary as you could give him. Not because you were human, although that was probably one of the aspects, but because you were you.

He loved you.

You had taught him that love was the most valuable thing to a person. Love was worth more than anything else in life. It was such a strong, overwhelming feeling no one could put exactly into words until one actually felt it.

And he loved you.

“No, Mi’ytiar… you have to, you have to.” You urged him between panting breaths. “Save our… our baby. Forget me… ju-just save our son… please.”

Mi’ytiar looked down at you as you begged him to do something he wasn’t willing to do in a million years. Cahrein would have hesitated in his stead, but he wasn’t your mate and would have cut into you. Mi’ytiar, on the other hand, could never do something that would harm you.

But he already did, though. He had doomed you the second his seed took.

“Mi’ytiar!” Cahrein barked and pulled the male out of his thoughts.

His body was on autopilot when his hand reached for a scalpel-like tool from the Medicomp.

“Thank you, thank you!” You cried out.

The only thing you felt was relief as your body slowly went numb, tears clouding your view. Everything around you became blurry and Mi'ytiar started to disappear. The world around you grew darker and darker as he set the sharp blade onto your skin and slowly applied pressure, cutting into you until blood flowed onto the table, and down to the floor of the ship, creating a red puddle.

You never even registered the feeling of him cutting you open.

Your body shut down before you could.

continue with the fourth part He Shall Prevail

#predator #predator x reader #predator x you #yautja x reader #yautja x you #fanfic

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penkura · 1 month ago

Text

where you belong [4/10]

Summary: As Luffy's big sister, you've viewed it to be your job to see him become King of the Pirates in place of your absent parents, even as you try to find where it is you belong in the world. You never really expected to draw the attention of Trafalgar Law in the process.

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Fem!reader

Warnings: Discussion of feelings of abandonment, age gap relationship (four years), brief secret relationship, mentions and heavy refences to sex, mentions of alcohol, typical One Piece stuff. Other warnings to be added if needed.

Note: This chapter has heavy references to sex, but nothing explicit. I'm an old maid, I don't have that experience yet. :') Also its 9k words, I'm so sorry, but I hope it sustains you all until chapter 5 is done lol.

Taglist:

[Ch. 1] ● [Ch. 2] ● [Ch. 3]

“You know,” Law can’t help the slight smile that makes it’s way onto his face when you look at him mid-bite but he does think it’s cute, “I thought you had feelings for Penguin for a while.”

You laugh after you swallow the bite of food you have, shaking your head but still smiling. The two of you decide to stay on the ship for the night, you’ll go into town tomorrow for a lunch date, but for tonight, you’ll just share some leftovers in the kitchen and sit close together. Every now and then you both place a kiss on the other’s cheek, it makes you giggle when Law does it, his goatee scratching your face a little, but you like it.

You like him, he already means so much to you, and you can already tell he feels the same way with you.

“No, no, definitely not. I think of him more like a big brother, really.”

“I’m sure he’ll be heartbroken to hear that.”

“Oh yeah,” you roll your eyes a little but still smile, “One of the two people who knew about my feelings for you is going to be so heartbroken that I think of him as a brother.”

“He’ll be devastated, I’m sure.”

You both laugh a bit, knowing that Penguin would absolutely play along if you brought it up, his acting skills on display if needed. He will be happy for the two of you when he hears, but it's fun to think of different reactions from his crewmates, you’ve been thinking about Luffy’s reaction since you realized your feelings for Law. You know he’ll be ecstatic, though he’s probably going to ask you to stay with the Straw Hats, at least for now. You don’t mind it, you’re sure Law will be fine with it.

The current plan is to drop you in Sabaody in a few months anyway, you’ll be separated for a while. At least you have transponder snails, you’ll be able to keep in contact that way easily. Less likely for letters to be intercepted and read in advance by Nami once she finds out.

“How long do you want to wait to tell your crew?”

Law shrugs, he hasn’t thought that far ahead about all this yet. He knows it’s going to happen, they’re going to find out somehow, maybe even by accident knowing them.

“A while, I’m not sure. I…I haven’t done this before…”

“…I haven’t either. Luffy and Ace would chase off any boys I liked, or any that they thought liked me…so I’ve never had a boyfriend.”

“I see,” Nodding, Law leans over and kisses your cheek again, making you giggle while he smiles, “We’ll figure this all out together then.”

“Yeah…together.”

Even when the rest of the Heart Pirates come back later that night, you and Law spend your time together, making sure at least that those who haven’t noticed your feelings for each other don’t find things out right away. You’re not ready for that, but you’ve both agreed to let Ikkaku and Penguin know, just for sanity’s sake and not having to sneak around everyone.

The rest of your evening is spent in his office after you’ve finished dinner, talking and making plans for the next day together, plans for after you go back to the Straw Hats if this sticks. You hope it does, Law does too, neither of you wants this to fall apart even if it’s just starting. Law takes you back to your room again, as he always does now, it’s become your favorite part of your evenings. If any of his crewmates come around the corner the two of you separate just enough that it doesn’t look weird, still talking until the other person is out of sight and you move back beside each other.

You’re sure that if he keeps walking you and kisses you before he leaves these times are going to be your favorite from now on. Practically none of the other guys come down towards your and Ikkaku’s room, giving you and Law enough time to enjoy each other before he says he needs to go, he’s got things to do before your (real) date the next day.

“Lunch tomorrow right?”

“Right.”

You nod with a grin, before leaning up to kiss Law again, which he gladly accepts and returns.

“See you in the morning then, Law.”

“You too,” Law gives you a smile and kiss on the forehead before he turns to leave, “I promise I’ll come get you this time.”

You fight not to laugh but nod, still smiling as you go into your room, all giddy and happy. Ikkaku is asleep so you won’t bother her, but once you get into bed, you’re trying not to squeal even though you can’t wipe the smile off your face as you fall asleep. Law does the same, even though he has no one else around him at the time. Its another night he sleeps easily, only because of you he believes. He has hopes this will be good, that you won’t leave him, and he won’t leave you even when he drops you off in Sabaody. He wants this to last, you both do, and it feels like it will.

Neither of you plans to give up on this easily.

+!+

Your first date off the Polar Tang is a success to both you and Law, he feels relieved after it’s over though, but he’s not opposed to another one of course. The rest of his crew goes about their business on the ship, leaving you and Law to slip off without anyone else noticing, Ikkaku and Penguin promise to keep everyone busy so you won’t be found out and you can enjoy yourselves.

You start off at a small café for lunch, laughing when the waitress suggests a sandwich to Law who nearly recoils at the thought of bread but just orders a salad instead.

“Stop laughing, you dork.”

“Your aversion to bread is so funny though, I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t like it!”

“Yeah well,” Law looks away as he takes a drink, cheeks just the slightest bit pink out of embarrassment, “I’ve never liked the stuff, ever since I was a kid. I’m sure there’s something you don’t like.”

You stop to think, as your food is brought to you, the waitress had been able to convince you to get the sandwich they were offering, as you look at Law’s lunch once it’s set down.

“Radishes.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t like radishes,” Nodding, you shrug a little, “Never have, I don’t like how strong they can taste.”

“Guess I’ll take your radishes and you take my bread.”

You grin and agree, the rest of your lunch spent in comfortable conversation, nothing feels awkward or weird, not after the night before. Law hopes you don’t ever find him passed out in his office again, though knowing the anxiety he can have, it may happen again. He's grateful you’re so understanding and willing to help him navigate this new territory.

But it’s also new for you, so you’re glad to learn alongside him.

Once you’re done with lunch, neither of you are ready to go back to the Polar Tang, so you take off to look at different shops through the town. Of course you find a bookstore, both of you excited to go in, though Law less obvious about it, you drag him inside and start to look at everything available. While you end up looking at the different books on poisons, Law ends up picking out a medical book almost immediately, before being drawn to the novels and comics, where you end up finding him several minutes later, lost in thought.

You just watch him, he looks like he’s thinking through which volumes of Sora Warrior of the Sea he has, to see if he needs any that are on the shelf in front of him. It makes you smile, he's so feared by so many so people simply because he’s pirate captain, but this side of him makes Law so cute to you, he keeps it to himself most of the time, but when you see it, you can’t help it.

He really is a good guy.

Law picks a book up off the shelf to read the back as you come over, pressing yourself again his side to try and rea it yourself.

“Find one you need?”

“Maybe…I don’t think I’ve read this one before.”

You hum and look at the cover yourself, reading the synopsis before Law puts his arm around your shoulders and brings you closer to him. It doesn’t surprise you that much, but it makes you smile. Despite how he looks to some people, you know Law is much nicer than anyone could ever expect, especially when he starts to explain the plot of this volume while you just listen and in turn wrap your free arm around his waist as Law decides he'll get this book too, asking if you found what you need before he goes to purchase his items.

“Yeah, I think I found everything I was looking for.”

The two of you walk back to the Polar Tang while chatting lightly, Law trying to explain the full plot of Sora to you, which makes you laugh as you ask questions and he looks almost annoyed like it’s something he just explained but you weren’t listening.

It's not your fault he looks so happy as he goes off about his favorite series, the bright look in his eyes and slight smirk he has, he’s just so handsome when he’s happy.

“…maybe you should just read it.”

“If you let me borrow your copy I will!”

Law nods, thinking that’s definitely a better idea than him having to try and explain it. He’ll have to get you the first volume later so you can start it, see something he’s liked ever since he was a child. Maybe you’ll enjoy it too and he can have someone to talk about it with again.

As you approach the Polar Tang, you take Law’s hand in yours, he pulls you a little closer to kiss your head in return. You aren’t ready to go back yet, to have to pretend nothing is going on, but you’re willing to deal with it for now, just for Law. He might be older than you, but you understand he isn’t in the mood to be teased by his crewmates about his first relationship, so you can accept this situation. At the very least, Ikkaku and Penguin know, you think Bepo has his suspicions after you ran to get him when Law had passed out, but none of his other crewmates seem to suspect a thing yet.

“I wish we had more time today…”

“We don’t have to go back in immediately,” Law shrugs while you look up at him confused, making him smile softly, “We could, you know, stay on deck for a while…if you want, I guess.”

That suggestion causes you to smile back, nodding and dragging Law back to the ship, settling both of you in a good spot so you can talk and watch the sunset, maybe stay long enough to see the stars. He knows being in a submarine is completely different from what you were use to with the Sunny, so Law doesn’t mind staying outside for a while longer with you, he’s more than happy to do so, especially when you lean against his shoulder and continue to hold his hand.

“I think today was a good second-first date.”

“Oh is that what we’re going to call it then?”

Nodding, you hum before kissing his cheek, leading Law to press another to your temple.

“We’ll definitely have another date sometime.”

“Good to hear.”

You’re excited to see where things go with Law now that you’ve had this real first date, and when you tell Ikkaku everything later that night, she starts betting you and Law will be married in no time at all, which makes your face heat up at the thought. She’s joking of course, even as she says you’ll have four kids, but even you start thinking about what that could be like one day, though you never tell anyone else about it. It’s far too early to be thinking about such a thing, but Ikkaku’s insistence that she’s correct makes you laugh in the end.

You end up sleeping better than night that you have in a while, and Law does the same, after relaying the date to Penguin who is happy for his captain and proud he took that step with you. All of the Heart Pirates want Law to he happy, and if that means he’s with you, Penguin knows the rest of them will approve when you two decide to tell everyone about your relationship.

This family Law found will be happy for him, just as you know Luffy and the other Straw Hats will be for you.

+!+

“Have you heard of the Will of D?”

“Hmm?”

You’re laying across Law’s lap in his bed one evening while reading a book, him doing the same, before he asks such a seemingly random question. He’d been running his fingers through your hair (carefully, nervously, you’re both still getting used to this) and you thought he’d been so focused on his book, but it seems he has something on his mind instead.

You wrack your brain a bit, knowing it sounds familiar but at first, you’re not sure why until it hits you. Nodding, you close your own book and sit up beside him.

“Robin mentioned it once…she asked if Luffy and I knew anything about it.”

“Do you?”

When you shake your head, Law sighs a bit but nods, pulling you against his side gently to have you lay your head on his shoulder.

“Sorry I’m no help there.”

“No, don’t be,” Law waves off your apology, kissing the top of your head as you hum, “I was just wondering.”

You both return to your books for a while, you trying to focus but keep thinking about what Law asked. You know that you have no information for him about the Will of D, you only know it's something Robin has brought up; you, Luffy, Garp and Dragon have the D in your names, you’ve seen others have it as well, but that’s the extent of your knowledge. You’ve never really been interested in learning the meaning, even with Robin questioning you and Luffy, Garp never had an answer either if you asked him, not a real one. He just said it was like a middle name, nothing for you to worry yourself about. You were too young to argue with him, or maybe it was just that you respected him too much to do so, but it never set right with you. You wanted to know, why you saw that letter on wanted posters too.

Sometimes you wonder if it would give you more information about who you are.

“…what do you know about it, Law?”

He’s not sure if you want to know the very little he does, but since it’s brought up to you before, and you both share that letter, though he hasn’t told you yet, it might not be a bad thing. Sharing what he knows might give you something to look at yourself, maybe even the next time you see Garp he could give you real answers. You aren’t a child anymore, you deserve to know anything that could help you find yourself and where you belong in this world.

“Enemies of the gods.”

“…what?”

“That’s what Cora-san said once,” Law shrugs while you start to think, “I don’t think he knew anymore than that, really…”

“…I don’t really like that thought, being an enemy of the gods.”

“Don’t dwell on it, I’m not sure what he meant by it.”

You end up nodding, turning your attention back to your book but not really reading it anymore. You don’t understand why having a D in your name is so important in this world, what it would mean for you, Luffy, your grandpa, really anyone with it, it’s so strange. If Dragon were around, maybe he would know something. Maybe he does but you can’t get any kind of answer from him since he’s never around. Garp probably still wouldn’t answer you, he’d tell you it’s nothing for you to worry about still, even though you’re all grown up and now want to know since Law brought it up.

The world you live in is a strange place after all.

“I have it too.”

“Huh?”

“A D in my name, I have it too.”

Honestly you’re not completely surprised, but just a little shocked to hear that. You know there are several people with the D in their name, you just didn’t expect Law to be one of them.

“So—”

“Trafalgar D. Water Law. That’s my full name.”

You don’t say anything about it, not for a while. Honestly Law starts to wonder if you’re upset he never told you, when you’d given him your full name the first time you really met. He'd kept his name secret for so long, it only felt natural to do so back then too, it wasn’t that he didn’t trust you.

Well, when you met it was, even after he learned you were Luffy’s sister, he hadn’t planned for you to join his crew for two years, or to develop feelings and a relationship with you. You were a stranger that simply was related to another pirate captain and had a D in their name, why should he have revealed it back then? The two of you weren’t close at all, so he’s hoping you understand that since neither of you really knows much, not telling you his full name at the time was a safety measure. It wasn’t anything personal.

“I wonder if we’ll ever find out why we have this letter, and why it seems like no one knows anything.”

To say he’s relieved you’re not upset with him is an understatement, leading Law to sigh a bit before nodding in agreement. He wants to know too now, more than he has before, to understand why this Will of D is so important to the World Government especially, that there’s so little information on it.

He wants to find out for you too now.

“Have I told you why I wanted to write a book?”

Shaking his head, Law glances up from his notebook to you, sitting across from him with your own book that you’ve kept every tiny note and detail about your crew’s adventures in hand, giving him a smile.

“Wanna know?”

“If you want me to.”

You roll your eyes as bit, finishing a line in your book before setting your pen down to rest your chin in your hand.

“My other brother, Sabo, wanted to write a book about our pirating adventures for kids. I wasn’t really into writing back then, I thought it was boring but I did like reading,” sighing you lean back against your chair as Law stops his own note taking to watch you, “After he…after he died, I decided I’d take up his dream. It’s not going to be only for kids though, I want everyone to read how Luffy becomes King of the Pirates.”

“Hmm, I see.”

“…do you think it’s silly? To take up Sabo’s dream like that?”

Law wonders if people have laughed at you for taking your brother’s dream on yourself. You’ve told him how you’d lost Sabo, thanks to a Celestial Dragon, and how it affected you, Luffy, and Ace as you continued to make your plans to leave and become Pirates. You’ve always kept him in your mind, especially when you’ve gone to make your notes and write whatever needed to be done next, Law's even read your writing more recently to help you proof it.

You have a talent for writing and detail, even he’s gotten tucked into your unpublished work and wants to know what’s next. It's like he’s anxiously waiting for the next Sora novel, except his girlfriend is the author and he wants to see what’s next for a rival instead. It’s how he learned more about the way you all helped free Alabasta, your adventure in Skypiea, Luffy’s declaration of war against the World Government at Enies Lobby, the zombies you fought on Thriller Bark, and when you arrived in Sabaody. He wants to see how that moment you two first locked eyes was for you, but he doesn’t expect that in this book. It’s not important to Luffy’s story, so you’ll probably leave it out, he thinks.

He does hope you’ll send him copies once you’ve gone back to the Straw Hats, he wants to keep reading the story and stay up to date with you.

“It’s not silly at all,” Law smiles when you look at him with relief in your eyes, your own smile making it’s way to your face, “Taking on someone’s dream like that takes a lot of strength and courage, I think. I’m sure your brother is happy.”

“I hope so…”

“Makes me wish I had known what Lami’s dream was…so I could make it happen for her.”

It makes you feel a little bad to hear that, but you know Law isn’t trying to garner sympathy, like when he’d told you his life story. He didn’t get the time he deserved to have with Lami as her big brother, she didn’t have the chance to grow up and live out her own dreams and desires.

If he knew what they would’ve been, you know Law would be fighting to make it happen, like you with taking on Sabo’s dream.

“I bet she would’ve wanted you to be happy, Law.”

“…I would’ve wanted the same for her.”

Twenty more hearts…

Just a little more before Law will feel better about sending you back to your brother and crew, knowing he could extend Warlord protections onto you at least.

Just a bit longer before his plans can really be enacted.

+!+

You make a realization one day a few months later.

It happens while you watch Law work as you try to do the same, but somehow he’s distracting you just by being there. Not in a bad way though, it’s not like how Luffy and Ace would distract you when you were younger. It’s more of you simply letting your eyes and mind wander towards him, even when you should be working yourself, you just can’t help it.

The last couple months have been more than you ever would’ve expected. It may be your first relationship, and Law’s too, but you’ve both enjoyed every bit of time you’ve spent together. There have been a few close calls with your relationship almost being exposed to the rest of the crew, but no one has said anything to you or Law about it. You’ve done well to keep it secret, only Ikkaku and Penguin know everything.

You’ve felt nothing but safe and happy with Law, before you ever started dating, but now you feel it more and he’s told you how he wants to keep you safe, no matter what happens. You feel the same, it doesn’t matter that Law is older or stronger than you, he deserves to feel safe and loved too.

It's right before your birthday, and the Heart Pirates planned party to celebrate Law becoming a warlord at the same time, that you decide you know exactly what it is you’ve been feeling lately. Watching Law, enjoying the quiet moments, learning a little more about each other every day, you’ve come to realize you love him.

Everything you’ve come to know about Law and his life, how he’s treated you and his crew, the way he’s made space for you in his room and office, allowing you to stay as long as you need, it's brought you even closer to him and caused you to notice how strong your feelings for him have become.

You love Law and you have every intention of telling him that tonight, even after you both slip away from the party his crew threw together. Penguin notices, pointing it out to Ikkaku, and they both work to make sure the rest of the crew doesn’t notice or suspect anything. They’ve done their best to keep your situation a secret, you two can have all the privacy and time you need before you’re ready to tell anyone else.

Once you’re back to his room, after Law has given you your gift (a new notebook for your writings and your own copy of the first few volumes of Sora), you can’t help but to kiss him almost nonstop, leading Law to pull you into his lap as he kisses you back before you decide something.

“Wait, stop.”

When you put your hand on the one he has just under your shirt, Law thinks he’s moved too fast for you, that you aren’t ready for anything more than kissing and dating, that’s fine if so, but he starts to get anxious that he’s screwed everything up. He didn’t mean to, he wanted to make your birthday special, but only if you’re comfortable. If you aren’t, he’ll apologize and make it right however you want. He doesn’t want to ruin what you have right now, taking that next step in your relationship can wait if you’re not ready for anything more.

“Sorry, was that too fast? I didn’t—”

“No, Law, relax,” you giggle a bit seeing how flustered he looks, before continuing, “I just…I need to tell you something first.”

Now he’s more concerned and thinking he’s definitely done something wrong. You seem nervous about whatever it is you have to say, looking like you’re thinking about it. The silence is making Law more anxious as seconds go by, it feels so much longer. He tightens his arms around your waist just a bit to try and coax the words out, which makes you sigh, arms still around his neck, a soft smile on your face.

“…I love you, Law.”

“You…you what?”

You’re not worried that he didn’t say it back, or that he looks almost horrified at your confession, you know enough about Law to understand why, so you don’t feel like this was a mistake. You needed him to know, as soon as possible, you just had to get those words out to him, even though he’s looking more scared than you’ve ever seen and his hold on you is tighter than it’s ever been, you think.

It doesn’t matter though. You keep smiling at him while you kiss his cheek to try and calm down what you know are racing thoughts.

“I said I love you, Law…I just wanted you to know.”

He wants you to take it back, but he can’t seem to speak. With everything that’s happened in his life, you’ve said the three words he's been scared to hear come out of your mouth since you started your relationship. What he’s dreaded happening ever since he agreed to be your boyfriend.

Not because he didn’t want this relationship, it’s not that he doesn’t want you, it’s that he’s now utterly terrified of what may come next.

The words you’ve said, your first ever love confession to Law has him near a panic once he realizes what you’ve done. You’ve said you love him, it’s only been a few months, how are you so sure?? Why did you have to say that, why did those words come out of your mouth, don’t you remember what’s happened to those who have said they love him?!

“Law.”

No, no, you’re not serious, that’s it. Maybe you’re tipsy or flat drunk, it’s your birthday and you’ve been drinking, that must be it. You don’t know what you’ve said and won’t remember in the morning, he's sure of it. It’s better you don’t remember, he’ll make himself forget this ever happened. You’re not in love with him already, you didn’t say those three words that haunt him with Corazon’s smile, or his mother’s perfume, his sister’s hugs, and his father’s laughter.

“Law, hey.”

It’s not real, none of this is real right now. He’s going to wake up and this won’t have happened at all. You can’t die, you can’t follow the footsteps of those who have loved him in the past. He can’t lose you too, he just can’t, not again. It won’t happen again, he won’t allow another precious person to be taken from him, not for the third time, please don’t die. Please don’t leave him like the others have.

“…you can’t die too…”

It breaks your heart to hear him say that, with shallow breaths that tell you he’s not okay and you need to do something, leading to you gently shushing him as his breathing picks up. You start to feel awful and know you’ve got to calm Law down before he goes into a full blown panic attack.

“Oh, Law, calm down. Breathe, honey,” Law doesn’t even notice he’s nearly hyperventilating until you place your hands on his face, bringing your forehead against his to try and calm him, “I’m not going anywhere, shh. It’s okay. I won’t die, Law.”

Oh, he must’ve been saying everything out loud, not in his head. He didn’t notice that either, it all must’ve come out so rushed he couldn’t stop from running his mouth with his fears and worries. He only realizes the tears in his eyes when you wipe them away, placing a kiss on his forehead before bringing his head to your chest, letting him wrap his arms around you as tightly as he can while he listens to your heartbeat. As he slowly starts to calm down, you run your fingers through his hair while he continues to hold you as close as he possibly can, it’s probably going to be a while before he lets you go.

“Law—”

“I,” his voice is strained from fighting not to cry but your shirt’s already damp from his tears even as he tries to choke them down, “I can’t lose you too…not you, please.”

You shush him again, kissing the top of his head this time before laying your forehead against his hair.

He feels a bit pathetic at the moment, if he were to be honest. Nearly twenty-six and clinging to his twenty-two year old girlfriend like a child does to their mother. If he were anyone else, Law would’ve pushed you away and tried to look more manly in front of you, but he knows you don’t want that and he doesn’t care to hide his feelings right now. You just wanted him to know, that’s what you said when you told him those words, it's why you say them again and brush your fingers through his hair once more.

“I won’t leave you, don’t worry. Even when I go back to Luffy and them, my heart is yours, Law.”

It’s an impossible thing to promise, that you won’t die and you’ll be safe after you return to the Straw Hats, but it’s enough for Law at the moment to calm him. He nods but continues to hold you close, face buried in your shirt while you stroke his hair and whisper your love and sweet nothings to him. He wonders if he should say it back, even though he’s not sure where his feelings are at this moment, but he still opens his mouth to speak.

“Stay with me tonight. Please.”

“Of course, Law. Whatever you need.”

“…I just need you.”

He’s not there yet, not where he can say the same words to you, but you don’t seem to mind. When you repeat them to him, over and over again, Law starts to believe that this time is different. Maybe this time, he won’t lose someone who loves him. Maybe he’ll be allowed to love you back, to have some happiness in his life for the first time in over a decade.

Maybe this time he’ll be able to return those words when he’s ready.

The rest of the Heart Pirates know something must have happened the night before, after you and Law returned to the ship without them, since none of them see him for quite a while that next morning. Those who still don’t know your relationship think you two must’ve had a fight about something, while Ikkaku and Penguin, your confidants on the ship, have the full story from you when you bring both into your room after breakfast. You tell them not to expect to see Law much today, and when you finish explaining, Ikkaku gives you a sympathetic look while Penguin sighs and scratches his head.

“Damn, I never thought Captain would react like that…”

“Can you blame him?” Ikkaku makes an annoyed face at Penguin before turning back to you, “The last person to tell him that…”

“Was Corazon, and he died soon after.” You nod, the story is still fresh from when Law told you everything, so you do understand. You understand why he nearly had a full mental break down last night after you said ‘I love you’ to him, he hadn’t expected it and in his past experience, those words do not lead to positive outcomes. “I feel so bad about it…”

“Oh, no, no, you shouldn’t,” setting a hand on your shoulder, Penguin tries to reassure you as Ikkaku hugs you, “I think it just means Captain cares about you a lot more than he even realized, if his first thought was that he was going to lose you.”

“Penguin is right, Law definitely has strong feelings for you. He was probably just worried. He seems to think all he ever does is lose people…”

“He’s not going to lose me,” you grip the pillow in your lap tight for a moment before releasing it, “I love Law, and I’m going to prove it to him that he doesn’t just lose people who love him. He's still got all of you, right?”

They both nod as you sigh, moving to get up from your bed when Ikkaku asks where you’re going.

“I’m going to bring Law something to eat, he’s been in his room all morning.”

“He may not want anything…normally he’s good to just—”

“No, I’m gonna make sure he knows I’m here for him,” once you’re up with shoes on, you give the two a smile, “Let everyone know Law and I are fine, I’ll take care of him today.”

Penguin goes and lets everyone know it’s a day off, he tells them Law isn’t feeling well and to go do what they want, practically everyone leaving to go back to the island for shopping or relaxation. You, of course, stay aboard, starting to make something for you and Law to share for lunch, anyone still hanging around leaves you alone, knowing you’re taking care of things. Whatever might be wrong, because none of them believe Law is sick, you’ll make it okay.

You’re nearly done making the food when you see an arm come around your shoulders, the other around your waist, Law presses a soft kiss to the back of your head before putting his forehead on your shoulder.

“How are you—”

“I’m sorry about last night,” he’s quiet as he speaks, you shake your head before setting down the spoon you were using and turning around to take his face in your hands, “I just. I didn’t expect that and it freaked me out because I thought of my…my family and Cora-san, I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t mean you’re going to die, but I—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” You kiss him before hugging him properly, letting Law continue to hide his face in your shoulder, “I know I surprised you, but I really just wanted you to know that I love you.”

Taking a breath, Law still doesn’t like hearing that from you yet, but he nods, tightening his hold on you. The two of you stay like that for a while, you once again speak sweetly to him, making Law feel better but he still feels like he’d look like a child to anyone else if they saw this. Some people wouldn’t see an adult relationship but maybe think he's leaning too much on you, but you haven’t had any problems with that yet. It doesn’t fully make sense to him, why you haven’t pushed him away and said this is all too much, with the emotional baggage he has, he doesn’t understand it at all.

“I’m scared I’ll lose you too sometimes, you know,” Law pulls away enough to look at you, confused by what you mean at first, “You’re a Warlord now…I know it keeps the Navy off you, but other pirates will still come after you. I don’t want to lose another loved one.”

“You’re not gonna lose me.”

“Then you have to believe you won’t lose me either.”

He gets that and understands you didn’t tell him you love him because you were trying to scare him or anything like that. You really do just love him, Law knows he’s going to have it accept that even if someone tells him those words, it doesn’t mean they’re doomed immediately. It doesn’t mean he’ll lose them, precedence be damned, he’ll be the one to make sure nothing happens to you. He was too young, too small to protect Corazon or his family, but now that he's grown and stronger, he can at least protect you while you’re under his care.

“I’ll try.”

“That’s enough for me,” you give Law a smile that he slightly returns, before leaning up to kiss him briefly, “I love you.”

Although he’s not ready to say it back to you, Law nods before kissing your forehead and hugging you again, quietly thanking you. Its enough, you know it’ll take him some time to get to the same point, but that’s okay.

You’ll just keep loving Law, helping him where you can, to show him that he doesn’t only lose people he loves. He’s not going to lose you and you’re not going to lose him.

“You should probably eat something.”

“Yeah, probably,” Law watches you as you turn back to finish the lunch you were making, “Also…before I freaked out last night, we…are you okay...going further?”

For a moment you’re confused, before you see the light blush on his face and realize what Law means, your own face heating up when you quietly say ‘oh’ as you remember. Things got interrupted after you said you love him, and the two of you had settled to laying in his bed, his arms around you and face in your shirt while you just held Law close and calmed him.

After another minute or so, you just nod.

“Yeah I…I’m okay with that,” you can tell he’s relieved when Law sighs and nods, making you smile, “But another night. Right now we should eat!”

Law doesn’t really get how you’re able to change subjects so quickly but he is hungry so he’s not going to complain about it. Not when you’ve made one of his favorite meals and taken the time to make sure it’s perfect for both of you. You both enjoy your lunch together, and whenever another one of his crewmates comes by or returns to the ship from their time on the island, they all seem just as relieved to see Law is out of his office and doing well, he’s back to acting as a captain should later that day.

Everything is fine, and they all know you’re to thank for that. Every one of them, that doesn’t know yet, hopes that you and Law will come together one day, and they’ll all support you and their captain through everything.

+!+

When Law wakes with you in his bed after your first time together, he’s still not sure he believes it. He watches you sleep peacefully for several minutes, knowing you’re safe with him, that you chose to spend the night with him for the first time because you love and trust him. Honestly he couldn’t even believe the night before was the first for both of you. He’d figured that, even though you’ve never had a boyfriend, you’ve probably hooked up with someone before. It’s common for pirates to do, or he thought maybe Sanji or Zoro had managed a situationship with you. But when you tell him neither had ever even made a move on you, he’s surprised.

“Probably because I’m the captain’s sister haha. I’m considered off limits to those boys.”

He’s not sure if your crewmates would like knowing you’re with him, he hasn’t been since your relationship started, but he’s started not caring. You’re an adult, you can make your own decisions. You did last night, after Law made sure multiple times you were comfortable with taking your relationship further. He hopes you don’t regret anything when you wake up, but with how much you said you loved him last night, he knows you won’t. He really does wish he was at the point where he could tell you the same, but you understand, he doesn’t know how but you do.

Law watches you sleep for a few minutes longer, stroking your cheek while you bury your head deeper into his pillow in your sleep.

“Mm…love you…Law…”

It’s strange how you can say that so easily, even in your sleep, and how it makes him feel so emotional at the same time. How do you do this, make him want to cry at 5:30am just from saying you love him? It’s enough for Law to leave his bed finally, going to his bathroom to wash his face and calm himself down before he wakes you. Splashing water on his face, Law stops to look at himself once he dries off, he doesn’t know how to handle this. How to handle the love you give him so freely and easily. The last person to do that was Corazon, that’d been so long now.

“Cora-san��I don’t know how to handle this…”

Law never really expected to fall so hard for someone, it wasn’t something he ever worried about. Falling in love, getting married, having children, it’s not something Pirates normally do, he’s only ever viewed it as a civilian lifestyle. To be settled in one place where they could raise their family, it sounded good when he was a child but now, it’s such a dangerous thing to think about.

If the right person figures it out, he’s afraid he’ll lose you like he’s lost everyone else that’s told him they love him.

So many new ‘what-ifs’ are taking over his thoughts, there’s so much to think about now.

What if someone finds out and uses your relationship against him, or against Luffy? What if you get pregnant? Of course you were safe last night, but even Law knows protection is only so effective. Law would protect you of course, but it's another fear that someone could find out and use it against him. He doesn’t think he could handle losing a family again if that were to happen.

What if you decide he’s too much with the baggage he has? Would you leave him and want to forget your relationship even happened?

No, after last night, Law is sure you won’t do that, at the very least. You’re in this for the long haul, and so is he, neither of you are getting out of this relationship easily. You’re both too attached at this point.

He’s there for a few moments longer, thinking and trying to work things out in his head, before he’s surprised by your arms coming around his middle and your head laying on his back. You place a soft kiss to his tattooed back with a ‘good morning’, which Law returns.

“Did you sleep well?”

“I did. You?”

You nod, smiling up at him when he looks over his shoulder at you and places one of his hands on yours.

“I borrowed your shirt, hope that’s okay.”

“More than okay. It looks better on you.”

It makes you giggle while Law smiles, you tell him you’re going to steal it then and he doesn’t fight you on it.

“Do you wanna take a shower with me?”

“I’d love that, Law.”

Your shower is quick, only due to you needing to head off to your room so no one is suspicious of you being gone all night, especially Ikkaku so she doesn’t start asking questions. You’d rather stay with Law for the next couple hours before everyone else is awake, since you personally believe that most of his crew has figured things out by now, but you do understand his being worried that it might leak to the World Government and someone could target you to get to him once he becomes a Warlord. You try to extend your time with Law by wrapping your arms around his shoulders and kissing his face over and over, enjoying the slight blush he gets from it that only you ever notice.

“All right, all right,” he doesn’t sound annoyed, more like he’s appreciative of your affection, “You need to go on back.”

You pout, shaking your head before burying your face in his chest while he sighs and pats your head. “Last night was nice…I don’t want to go yet…”

“It was nice. Next time, you can stay longer…”

“Next time, hm?” Your grin makes him roll his eyes before responding to you.

“Don’t read too much into it, dork,” Law pinches your cheek a bit, making you whine before he kisses you one more time for that morning, “Of course there’ll be a next time. You’re my girlfriend, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I sure am,” nodding, leaning up just a bit more, you rub your nose against his briefly, “And you’re my boyfriend, my love.”

You leave a moment later, after telling him again that you love him, and Law wishes he could’ve responded in kind to you. You don’t seem to be upset he doesn’t, you never have. You’d told him that a simple ‘thank you’ is enough of a response until he’s ready to say it back to you. You’re willing to wait until he’s ready.

Law hopes he works things out before you have to return to the Straw Hats in a few short months. He doesn’t want to leave you wondering once you’ve separated.

Cora-san…I think I found who I’m meant to be with for the rest of my life…

Despite the worries and he has about losing you, about someone finding out and trying to use it against him, Law is determined not to let anything happen to you, even after you return to Luffy and your crew.

He's not going to let another person who loves him be harmed again. He’ll prove he doesn’t just lose loved ones and he can protect them.

Even if still may take him some time to return your words, Law is going to protect you, even when you’re miles away from him again.

I won’t let anything happen to you.

+!+

You’re not surprised when the Heart Pirates throw a going away party the night before you’re set to return to your crew. They’ve docked in Sabaody, but your intentions are to leave the next morning, you arrived a day early thanks to Law’s planning, so you have just a bit more time with the people who have become another family to you. They’ve all celebrated your birthday twice now, and tonight they’re celebrating you as an honorary Heart Pirate, you’ll never be rid of them, they all laugh when Shachi says it with a grin. It makes you laugh too, though you feel sad at the thought of leaving them, you’re anxious and excited to go back to your crew.

You want to see Luffy again, despite the part of you that wants to stay with Law.

Speaking of, you notice after a few more minutes that he’s not been around or said anything, and don’t see him when you stop to try and find your boyfriend. When you ask Hakugan, he says Law had gone back to his office a bit ago, telling him not to worry about anything and to keep the party going for you. It makes you wonder if he’s gotten overwhelmed once again, to the point you sneak off like you do often it seems, to go check on him. You don’t plan to let him stay locked away in his office, not when you have so few hours left before you have to leave, so you knock on the door and say his name, not getting a response at first.

“Law? Can I come in?”

“Go back to everyone, I just need a few minutes.”

“Are you sure? We can—”

“I’m fine, don’t worry.”

You don’t leave, trying to find something to say, before you nod to yourself.

“Okay, I’ll see you when you come back then.”

It’s not the party itself that overwhelmed him, Law only got that way as he heard everyone saying such nice things about you, how much they’ll all miss you when you leave and they’ll be waiting to see you again. The strain in Bepo’s voice when he talked about how much he’ll miss you being around too, the grins Shachi and Penguin had when they talked about your stories you’d tell them, Clione and Uni bragging about your cooking, Ikkaku nearly in tears because she was going to be the only girl on board again. It was just too much for Law at the moment, especially when Penguin nudged him and told him he needed to say something too. It felt too final to do that, made Law anxious, and he had to leave. He didn’t want to seem like a downer or make anyone else sadder than they already were to have you leaving, so he chose to step away for a bit.

You’ve changed things in the last two years, Law really does believe that. Especially with him, you’ve made him realize he's not going at things alone with his crew just along for the ride.

You’ve fallen in love with him and given him something he’s needed for a long time, reassurance more than anything, that you aren’t going to leave him alone.

Even if he doesn’t come back to the party, you’ll be okay with it. You’ll join him that night once everyone else has started to wind down and it gets quiet again. You’ll have one more night together before you leave, that’s more than enough for Law right now.

“You could stay.”

“No,” Sighing you set yourself up on one elbow, holding your face in your hand, while you brush your fingers through Law’s hair with the other, “I really can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“Luffy needs me,” you lay your head on Law’s chest, while he keeps an arm around your shoulders, “I’d love to stay but…I need to be with him.”

Law doesn’t say anything at first, placing his hand on your head and stroking your hair. He knew that would be your answer, even with an open invitation to join his crew and stay on the ship. Every one of the Heart Pirates loves you, they’re all happy Law has found you, and they wish you’d stay. Ikkaku wants to have a roommate still, even if you’ve been spending most of your nights in Law’s room, she’s going to miss having someone to gossip with. Penguin and Shachi want you to stay because they’ve never seen Law so relaxed before, and Bepo just loves you so much, you’ve helped him with so many things the last two years.

They’ve all come to see you as a member of the crew, if the going away party they threw for you is anything to go by.

“…I wish you would stay.”

You stay quiet but nod, moving enough to lay on top of him with your arms crossed under your chin. You’re sure you haven’t seen him look so sad since he'd told you his past, but he's definitely not near tears or anything. You don’t expect that anyway, it’s not Law and that’s okay. You love him as he is.

“Are you going to tell him about us?”

“Mm,” you nod a little, already having that planned, “Luffy needs to know, I don’t like to keep things from him.”

Law understands that, he’s perfectly fine with you telling Luffy. If you had said no, he was going to try and convince you to do so anyway. He deserves to know, maybe he’ll be understanding and let you join the Heart Pirates, who knows? You know Luffy the best, you may have the same idea, but Law also knows you probably won’t leave right away even if Luffy is okay with it.

“I love you, Law,” you lay your head back on his chest and Law simply hugs you close, kissing the top of your head, “Nothing’s going to change that.”

“I know…”

Once you fall asleep, Law watches you for a bit, wishing you would make the choice to stay with him and his crew. Everyone loves you, they feel like you belong there with them, he can’t count how many times they’ve all told him to just steal you away from the Straw Hats, but Law could never do that. He’d never force you to stay if you didn’t want to.

He's realized he loves you too much to do that. When you’re ready to stay, you will, he knows that.

“It’s so stupid…” Law is quiet, whispering mostly to himself to keep from waking you, “I wish I could just tell you. But the words just don’t come out when I try…”

He worries he’s woken you when you start to stir in your sleep, until you settle back down, he breathes easy again and holds you closer.

“…I do love you…I hope you know that.”

I promise I’ll tell you when I can.

#one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #where you belong #fem!reader #reader insert

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neo-kosmos · 2 months ago

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hi all, shelby here! sorry for the total lack of activity on this blog for the past few years. we have been working diligently behind the scenes on our discord server as we wrote the drafts of the novels

if you haven’t heard, danny broke up with me and brian. we are getting neokosmos in the divorce as it has always been my baby and brainchild and brian has done virtually all of the prose writing since 2020. danny has wanted to step away for quite some time, and we are super proud of him for following his own path in life. the two of us will always be best friends but our time as partners and creative partners has come to an end.

we will be changing the name of neokosmos because danny is no longer working on and it is just not the same project that it was back in 2015. its a lot more adult, its a novel, the story and world is so much more developed and honestly we need a fresh start. as soon as we can we will be relaunching everything with the new name and posting the first five chapters for free for everyone to read to see if you wanna join us and make it happen. both brian and i are too disabled to work normal jobs so we need to make writing and selling artwork as our main gigs or we will be kind of fucked.

thank you to everyone who has believed in us over the years and especially our loyal patrons. its been hundreds of thousands of words and concept art and prep over the last 9 years and im so stoked to finally share what we have been cooking with more people. i started this project as a 23 year old recent grad with no idea what i was doing in life, and now at 32 i finally feel confident enough that what i am making is ACTUALLY GOOD????

so yeah, stay tuned, the whole project is about to enter Phase 3. love y’all

-shelby

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mae-gi-writes · 10 days ago

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let it be me | kuroo tetsurou (2)

In which you, as a new divorcée, can't help but crush on your 4-year-old's new PE Coach.

genre: singleparent!reader x coach! Kuroo, fluff, acquaintances-to-lovers

taglist: @patpatspatz @matchagirliris @multi-fandom-fanfic @alittlebirdahgaselx @kuroos--little--kitten @menacejelly12 @aeshiue @dreamlessnight @altheades @loonalockley @not-your-average-fangirl @bertqut1 @sunlixfl-blog @nabboo007

a/n: enjoy! <3 thanks for all the love given to the first part of this story! here's the second part. Third part is coming soon ~

---- previous | part two | next part >>>

"He can't be serious."

You sigh and watch the wine in your glass slosh around, creating beautiful patterns along the rim of your glass, "unfortunately, I think he is."

Your cousin has on an expression you can't quite place, in-between disgust and pure confusion. He's at the microwave, busy heating up some popcorn. Having adamantly asked you to sit on his couch while taking care of the snacks, you thus decided to watch Sakura play with her legos along the carpet, keeping a watchful eye in case one might end up in her mouth.

"He's only marrying her for the money," is what he concludes after a small pause.

You snort into your glass, take a sip of it and allow the bitterness to coat your tongue, "I wish that were true."

"How would you know that?"

" 'Tsumu, is it written stupid on my forehead?" your own wrinkles in distaste, "I see the way he looks at her. He's--" you choke on your words then, the knot in your throat growing tenfold, "--he's in love with her."

"Who is in love, mum?"

"No one at all," you're quick to answer upon noticing Sakura has been listening in. She normally doesn't, a kid that enjoys staring off into space and conjuring make-believe stories, where there's magic and only happy endings. You try and force a smile onto your face, "how's the house construction for Princess Peach going?"

Your daughter lets out a laugh as she presents to you a square that looks nothing like a house. Still, you coo at it, "so pretty! I bet princess peach would love it."

Your conversation with Atsumu has to wait until Sakura is tucked away in her uncle's bedroom and has listened to three stories about princesses, before you manage to join him back onto the couch where he's busy watching a rerun of volleyball matches.

You don't get to see him much now, courtesy of the fact that he's a national athlete and has been booked at the big games representing Japan. You couldn't be prouder, and yet his permanent absence does still leave a big hole in your heart whenever he flies over a thousand miles. Atsumu had been your rock since you guys were kids, defending you on the school playground and dragging you around to parties and birthdays without your consent. He'd taken care of you as a big brother would and he still is. You don't know how to repay this kind of kindness.

You're just thankful that he has one week off so that you can rant and ramble about the unfairness of the world. At least with Atsumu here, it appeases the pain, if just a little.

"Have you signed the papers yet?" he asks, handing you the bowl of popcorn.

You grab a handful, popping onto of them into your mouth as you answer, "not yet."

"You should ask him for alimony, at least."

"I'm not sure I'd win that, 'Tsumu."

"Still," his nose wrinkles in distaste, "this feels unfair. And why are you the one taking care of Sakura on your own? And I don't mean the parenting part. What about the finances? Why can't he contribute?"

"Because he's a dick and he thinks he can get away with it," you're glad that the tv is providing a welcome distraction, for you can't bear to look into Atsumu's eyes, "I'm just going to sign it and be done with it. I don't want Sakura to suffer any longer. It's not fair on her, she barely sees him."

"Well maybe it's time you find someone else too, y/n."

Your thoughts suddenly flash to Kuroo's beautiful smile and you have to physically force yourself to keep from grinning. You can feel the heat from the back of your neck and come up with the excuse that it's still too early and that Sakura wouldn't like her world shattering just for your happiness.

But it seems that Atsumu knows you better than that, for he asks, "are you blushing?"

"Wha--" Panic skitters through you, "no. No, why would I blush?"

His eyebrows raise, "you’ve met someone then?"

"N--No. Not at all. It's--" you realize you're blundering when his smile widens slightly, "it's not like that."

"So who's the lucky guy?"

"Atsumu."

"Y/N," his eyes glisten with playfulness and he nudges your shoulder, "c'mon. Tell me!"

You let out another breath and mumble, "He’'s not someone I met. He's...Just someone I know."

"And how do you know him?"

"He's Sakura's PE coach."

Atsumu lets out a whistle, "well that--" he shakes his head, "--that's not what I imagined at all."

"Shut up."

"So you like him?"

"It's not--It's really not like that. I--" you try and rack your brain for anything to say because this is really embarrassing. Who has a crush at the age of twenty-nine? Practically all of your friends are already married and have kids, talk about husband problems and how they wish for their youth back. And you? Here you are, thinking you might have a crush. You're no better than a middle school girl.

Which is why you say, "I don't even know him."

"You just think he's cute?"

"Precisely. But there are a lot of cute guys. It doesn't mean anything."

“Right,” Atsumu lets out a breath before he leans back into the couch, “but you know what I think?”

You hum in response.

“I think you should get laid—“

You almost spit out your wine in shock, gape at him in horror, “Atsumu!”

Again, your brain goes into overdrive at the thought of Kuroo and his sweaty chest, the breadth of his shoulders, the way he just towers over your small frame…

NO! You slam onto your mental brakes and shake your head, “you’re disgusting.” You spit out.

“I’m telling the truth princess. I really believe in the power of s—“

“Don’t—“ you cut him off with a raised palm, “don’t even say it.”

“So tell me,” Atsumu proceeds to wriggle his brows suggestively which makes it even harder to stop the blush igniting along your face, “this guy, how handsome is he? Must be pretty good-looking for you to be blushing like that.”

“Shut up ��Tsumu, it’s not like that at all. Just stop. He's like--half of my age."

“Alright alright,” he laughs his deep-bellied laughter and wraps an arm around you in a gentle, comforting hug, “but if ever you do get lais with him, you gotta tell me.”

“Mum, what does ‘getting laid’ mean?”

“Oh!” Your head snaps to the doorway only to see your daughter all sleepy-eyed and clutching a spare pillow.

“Sakura!” You scramble to over, casting your cousin a scowl as you do, “c’mon, sweetie. Let’s get you back to bed.”

You hear Atsumu’s laughter follow you all the way to the bedroom.

————

It’s weird when Sakura isn’t around.

It’s almost like you’ve lost your purpose. But then again, you should be taking advantage of this right? That’s what everyone keeps telling you.

But alas, something in you cannot just let yourself rest for fear that your thoughts may go into a black hole of what ifs and images of Sakura with your ex-husband’s wife —well, almost ex-husband— and thus decide to take on a last-minute order.

It’s a simple enough request— a birthday cake. While you usually plan events from A to Z, this order merely requested a cake of any kind. So that’s how you spend your Saturday morning — creating a dough and sugar decorations that would fit into the theme of “Halloween”, as per what your client has asked.

You drive up to the pin location around four in the afternoon, strolling through the streets until the google maps signals you that you’ve arrived to your destination. Turning off the ignition at the said house — a beautiful Victorian home adorned with columns twice your height and size — you open your door only to come face to face with a familiar pair of golden eyes.

“Coach?”

“Kosuke-san?”

You both stare. And stare.

It’s shock that comes first. Before realization slaps you in the face, “oh!” You quickly bow in hopes that you haven’t been staring too long, “good afternoon, Coach. What—What brings you here?”

"Kosuke-san," he bows and looks just as surprised as you are, before he notices the way you're struggling to juggle to cake in your arms, "here, let me help you."

Without hesitation, he opens the door a bit wider and closes the gap between you, lifting the box from your arms, "jeez how heavy is this thing?"

You let out a small laugh, "it's all the icing sugar."

"Come in," he gestures with his chin for you to follow and as you step into the threshold he continues, "so when you said you were an event planner--I didn't expect you to be a cake designer too."

"It's an extra service I provide," you shrug, "I'm a patissier by career. Event planning is just something that keeps the cash flowing."

Kuroo pauses in mid-step then, "you're a patissier?"

"Yeah. Well, I was," you chuckle, "but anyway, it's been a while since I've baked now. So I hope it's just as good as you expect it to be."

Kuroo opens his mouth only to be cut off by a horde of boys stumbling into what appears to be the kitchen area. Now that you have a better look, it's all white marble and golden taps and golden handles on every piece of furniture to match. In any case, this house screams of money and for a minute, you feel a bit small and insignificant in your stained-flour blouse, the splotches of paint across your faded out jeans, courtesy of Sakura's art skills.

"You must be y/n!" one of the boys detaches himself. His orange hair glistens in the sun streaming through the window and he's a bit shorter than Kuroo. He beams at you and you can't help but be reminded of a puppy, "thanks for taking my order on such a short notice!"

"No worries at all. You must be...Hinata?"

"Yes!" he shakes your hand, "so I see you've met Kuroo! He's one of my best mates! We used to play against each other back in high school."

"Really now?" you quirk a brow in Kuroo's direction, watching the muscles of his arms ripple as he places the cake in an orderly manner inside the fridge. His voice is muffled when he replies, "yeah, he's the midget that made us jump for our lives. I hated him."

"You're just sour because you lost that one time," Hinata pouts, "but anyway, this is the rest of the ex-team!"

And so that's how you get a round of names that you will probably forget in five minutes and Kuroo, having seen the confusion in your eyes, can't help but laugh to himself because the sight is somewhat adorable. And he knows he shouldn't find it, he knows you're off limits because first, you're a mom from the school and two, you're married and have a kid. It's definitely not at all appropriate for his eyes to be roaming over your curves or to linger over the light glittering in your eyes.

Get a hold of yourself, he mentally whacks the back of his head.

“Where’s the little munchkin?” Kuroo asks you once you’re all settled after having been wheedled by Hinata to stay (“please please please you did such a great job on the cake” is what he’d begged). You’re now perched onto a plush lounge chair, a mixture of juice and vodka in your hand and watching the nth match of pingpong between someone whose name you forget and the other whose name sounds like Daichi. Though yoj might be wrong.

You’re glad for Kuroo’s presence, for even if he is a stranger, he still feels familiar to you right now in this setting.

“Sakura’s with her father today,” you explain with a slight smile in hopes it doesn’t give any of that bitterness away.

Kuroo opens his mouth like he wants so say something — anything— but you beat him to it, “we’re not together. Not anymore.”

His eyes widen with realization and you see it, the way he’s putting all the puzzle pieces together, “I’m sorry to hear,” is what he finally musters.

“Nothing be to be sorry about.”

“So… the name Kosuke…”

“Is my maiden name,” you reply, “I’ve never changed names. Looking back, I think I’ve done the right thing.”

Kuroo isn’t sure whether he should be mad for you or hurt in your place. After all, who in their right mind would leave their wife and their toddler daughter?

He deals with little kids every day, so he knows exactly what they’re like on a daily basis, and it’s not easy.

“I’m sorry,” it seems that’s the only thing he knows how to say.

“Really,” you laugh at him, “how can you be sorry when it’s not even your fault?”

Kuroo shrugs and grins bashfully because yes, it’s true and he still doesn’t know what to say. So he decides to ask, “And Sakura… how is she?”

“She doesn’t realize it. She’s too young,” your smile fades slightly, “in a way, I hope that’s a good sign.”

His heart clenches at the thought of you raising this kid alone. He can’t even imagine it. It makes sympathy swim inside his chest like an ache he can’t quite ignore. The look on your face suggests that you’ve been let down and he has the sudden impulse to tell you that everything will be alright, will be okay.

But he can’t do that. You’ll think of him as a creep. So he bites his tongue and look away instead, at the war of pingpong ongoing between his two friends. In a way, he’s glad for the distraction as he sips on his beer.

“And you?” Your voice piping up surprises him. His eyes flit back to your face. You continue, “married? Engaged?”

Kuroo’s throat bobs as he chuckles, “no. None of that.”

“How come?” You take a sip of your cocktail, “you don’t seem like the type to wound up alone with a hundred cats.”

“No no,” he can’t help but laugh because one, you’re hella attractive to him; tiny and frail and looking like he can fit you in a box no problem and two; you’re actually entertaining to be around. Something that he’s found lacking in his previous dates, “I just didn’t find anyone special yet.”

“Well there's no rush,” you lift your cocktail as you speak, “and anyway, you’re still young. You should enjoy it while you can.”

“Young?” Kuroo’s face breaks into a grin as his golden orbs glimmer down at you, amused, “how old do you think I am?”

"Uhm--I don't know. Early twenties?"

"I'm twenty-five," he gives you a look, "how old are you?"

"Twenty-eight. Going on twenty-nine."

"You look like you've just gotten out of college though," Kuroo's smirk is visible even behind his beer as he chugs down most of his drink, "if I didn't know better, I'd say you and Sakura were sisters."

"Not even," you retort, "And excuse me, but you look younger than twenty-five."

"I make up for it in height," he peers down at you, "but I suppose you wouldn't understand that considering--"

Your arm whacks at his shoulder before you know it. A playful gesture surely, but one that you don't really use on your daughter's teachers. Let alone ones that have bulging muscles and a figure to die for. You stare at your hand for a long minute, your brain going blank, before your eyes whip up to his and horror seeps into your gaze.

"Oh my god!" you screech and recoil like he's the one that had slapped you, "I'm so sorry, I--It's just--automatic you know, my cousin--he's got the same humor and--well I--I'm really sorry--"

The guffaw that leaves Kuroo's mouth is so loud that it causes heads to turn, even the ones invested in the ping pong game. He bends over while holding his stomach and the initial panic that you have wears off upon seeing him look so joyously happy. You can't help but chuckle along.

"What?" you say when he's regained most of his breath, "what's so funny?"

"You are," he grins, before it turns mischievous, "senpai."

"Hey--now that's going a bit too far!"

You're not quite sure what time you get home that night. But you do know that you've gone to sleep with a smile on your face.

————

"Kuroo sensei! He stole my ball!"

A typical Monday morning where Kuroo is busy surveilling the fifth graders as they decided to play basketball during their free time. He's not one to deny such requests, actually enjoys watching them play and seeing them grow day by day, developing their techniques. But to say that he's a bit in the clouds would be an understatement.

"Kuroo sensei!"

He finally snaps back to reality. Blinks down at the tiny boy with the biggest scowl he's ever seen yet, "yes I'm sorry. What's wrong?"

"He stole my ball!" the young boy points at one of the chubby classmates who seems quite content in playing by himself, "and now he's saying that it was his!"

Kuroo can't help but raise a brow. He's taught that class before, knows exactly that the chubby little kid doesn't have that many friends, including the boy standing before him.

"I don't think he stole your ball."

It's a bold statement, but from the way the tiny student squirms and averts his gaze, Kuroo believes he is right, "but--but he did! He really did steal my ball!"

"I have an idea," Kuroo bends down to his height, not able to restrain the grin along his face at the pout forming on the student's lips, "why don't you go and play with him? He seems a bit lonely."

"Yeah that's because he never talks to anyone in class."

"Then why don't you be the first? hm?" he nudges the boy's shoulder, "show your class a good example. Come on."

With a bit more reassurance, the said student goes over and Kuroo watches fondly as the two exchange awkward greetings before the chubby student nods his head, glancing at his PE coach like he'd just dropped a bomb.

Five minutes later, they're playing together like best friends.

And Kuroo goes back to daydreaming.

He's not usually like this. So out of it, so inside his own head that he can't see the outside world. But ever since that party he's been wondering when's the next time he'd get to see you, to talk to you. Not just as Sakura's mum but as someone, maybe a friend. He's addicted to the way your eyes curve up before your lips are even drawn into a smile, like you're sharing a special secret with him before the world gets a flash of blinding white teeth. He enjoys watching you move about because you're just so tiny, holding cups with two hands and always having to tiptoe about to find stuff. But most of all, that conversation with you had him dreaming of more. He wants to know you, that initial curiosity turning to what he'd define as stupid infatuation.

Yes, Kuroo Tetsurou has a crush, and he's not quite sure how to feel about it.

"--Earth to Kuroo?"

He blinks. In front of him stands his colleague and friend Bokuto. Having faced each other off countlessly during their high school days, it was a miracle and lovely surprise to see him at the new year induction. Since then, they’d been a constant pair inside the school walls and creating assignments, organizing and coordinating events had never been so fun.

“Sorry,” he mumbles and rubs a hand over his face.

“You look like death, mate,” Bokuto leans on the fencing that separates the courts from the building, “why the long face?”

“Haven’t slept well,” Kuroo says, but he knows he’s not convincing when Bokuto’s eyebrows raise in question.

“You? Firm believer of 10hrs of sleep every day?” His friend shakes his head, “no way. Tell me what happened. What’s got you looking so dazed?”

“It’s noth—“ he halts. Maybe he can find some advice? Bokuto’s known for being a badass romantic after all. Maybe he can have something wise to say.

Like tell Kuroo you’re way out of his league and— what the hell is he even thinking, dating someone’s mom? Someone older than him, at that?

The words burst out of his mouth without warning:

“I think I like someone.”

Bokuto merely blinks. His face lights up, “well that explains it. Who?”

Kuroo’s arm swings to the back to scratch his neck, “it’s… one of the student’s mom’s.”

The last few words are said in a mumble, causing Bokuto to lean into his friend with a wide-eyed gaze, surprise flitting across his face when he realizes what Kuroo has just said.

“No,” the grey-haired man’s mouth turns into an “o” as he stares his friend down, “no way. Who?”

“I don’t think you know her. Sakura Kosuke?” Kuroo prompts.

“Sakura Kosuke…” Bokuto shakes his head in thought, “haven’t heard of that one. But—-Kuroo! I thought older women weren’t your style!”

“She’s not that old,” Kuroo’s face flames, “only by three years.”

"Who would've thought," Bokuto breathes out with a chuckle when a thought suddenly occurs to him, "wait-- it's not the chick who came by with the cake last weekend?"

Kuroo nods and awkwardly clears his throat, "yeah, the very same."

"Ha! If only I knew! I would've done my best to set you up!"

"It's not funny!"

But now that Bokuto has some leverage of information, he's definitely not going to let it go and Kuroo kind of regrets spilling the beans to him, of all people. That, and the probably fact that he’ll be spreading this news like wildfire across their friend group.

Thankfully, Kuroo’s schedule makes it that it’s hard to think about anything but work since midterm season is approaching for his other primary school colleagues. There’s after-school shows and events for every single activity and since he’s being asked to help for every single thing (because he’s the preschool teacher and, yeah! How come you don’t have any events planned for your preschoolers?!). Which means that he doesn’t have actual time to think about you, not even when he’s finally home and mustering up enough strength to brush his teeth, take a shower and dump himself in bed.

He does, however, collide head-first into you one week day as you’re hurrying out of the principal’s office, looking flustered and red-faced.

“Kosuke-san,” he takes a longing glance your rosy cheeks and felt his hand tingle with want. Just to see if it’s as soft as he imagines it to be? “You okay?”

“Kuroo sensei,” you run a hand through your locks and causing your hair to get even more disheveled, “hi, sorry— how are you? It’s been a while.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You’re looking a bit more greenish now that he sees you in the light.

“Yes I—“ your hands flutter up before you in an attempt to find an explanation, “—just came back from a meeting with Sakura’s teacher.”

“Oh?” Kuroo frowns, “what—nothing bad, I hope?”

“It’s just—well,” you try to chuckle but it comes out like a whimper, “apparently she got into a fight with one of the other girls in her class. Got a few injuries herself so…”

Your eyes are wet and it seems you’re half a second away from a breakdown. So it’s only natural for Kuroo to take a few steps closer to you before he whispers a soft, “hey hey, you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you take a shaky breath, “it’s just been a long, hard morning.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo bites onto his lower lip, not sure what to do to make things better as he watches your chest move up and down in staggered breaths.

That’s when an idea hits him. He makes a grab for the back of your elbow and the smallness, the thinness of your limb takes him be surprise as he steers you out of the corridor.

And when your wide eyes flutter up to his, he quickly says something along the lines of, “I know a place. It’ll make you feel better.”

That’s how he finds himself dragging you to the nearby coffee place he always frequents— called Espresso Block— a small vintage bakery run by none other than his good friend Osamu Miya, as part of his expansion branch from his onigiri restaurants.

"Y/N!" Osamu greets as soon as he spots your face trailing behind Kuroo's tall figure. He pushes the raven-haired man aside with impatience before sauntering over and wrapping you up in a bear hug.

"Osamu," you breathe in the scent of baked croissants lingering on his uniform, "you're choking me."

"Oh--sorry," he drops you and grins sheepishly, that is before he registers that you're together with one of his friends, causing his eyes to narrow, "how do you two know each other?"

"Kosuke-san is Sakura's mother and she was having a bad day," Kuroo explains before he turns to you, "how do you know him?"

Did you imagine the five-second frostiness that came from his tone? Maybe not, as you reply, "he's my cousin. We grew up together. I taught him how to play volleyball back in primary school."

Kuroo's relief is instant. Thank god, it's not a close friend, nor is it a romantic partner candidate. His mood brightens instantly and without further ado he proceeds to lead you towards a table in the back.

He doesn’t fail to ignore the way Osamu’s eyes are following him all the way back to his table as he carries the two drinks — strawberry latte for him and a black coffee for you — and Kuroo can just hope that his dear friend can keep his distance until you've gone.

Becayse he's quite certain he will be subject to interrogation. Especially if you're that close to Osamu.

Placing the tray on the table, he takes out the mug and pushes it into your hands before finding his seat opposite you. You grab the cup between your two palms and take a deep breath as Kuroo sips on his latte.

The sweetness of the strawberry never disappoints. It’s refreshing and brings a smile to his lips. Osamu sure knows his desserts.

“I'm really sorry about what happened earlier," you seem to have composed yourself from earlier. You take a small sip of your coffee and Kuroo watches in amusement as you shudder.

"Do you want some milk with that?" he can't help but ask.

You nod and look shameful, and Kuroo's heart squeezes with sympathy. Your eyes are tinged with aprons of blue and there are tired lines lining your eyes and the corners of your mouth. It's only when he comes back -- from having gotten some steamed milk from Osamu and a suggestive wink to match -- you dip your head into a nod and mumble out a soft 'thanks', eyes glued to the way the dark brown turned into a creamy latte.

"You could've asked me for a latte," Kuroo smiled to show that he didn't mind at all. But you winced.

"I'm sorry--"

"Don't say sorry," he softened, "just--next time, you can tell me what you want, Kosuke-san. I'm not here to bite you...unless you want me to."

Your eyes flit up to his in surprise and Kuroo pinks at his words. They'd just slipped out on their own. It's not like he'd wanted to sound flirty when you're looking all shaky and worse for wear. He quickly clear his throat and tries to change the subject, "how are Sakura's injuries?"

"She's fine, got herself a bruised lip."

His eyebrows raise in surprise, "woah, that's still something."

"Yeah," you mutter and take another sip. And then another, "I hope this doesn't become a habit."

"I've taught Sakura since the start of this semester," Kuroo leans forward, elbows propped onto the table, "and I can tell you--she's anything but violent."

"I really hope you're right about this. I can't have her running around beating up everyone."

Kuroo stifled a small laugh, "to be honest, I think it's good she knows how to defend herself."

You shoot him a look and he can't help but laugh. And it's so contagious, the way it booms out of him like a melody, that you cannot restrain yourself from joining in.

"You're right," you say in-between chuckles.

"Maybe she got her mom's feisty spirit," Kuroo adds.

"No way. I was as silent as a mouse," you retort, "if she got anything like that, it's probably from her father's--"

You halt in mid-conversation, wanting to bite down your tongue for even mentioning him and quickly flash Kuroo a bashful smile in hopes he'll just brush it off, "sorry, let's not talk about him--"

"Kosuke-san, you really have to stop saying sorry all the time," Kuroo says with a grin, "it's not healthy."

"I know, I'm--" you catch yourself and he bursts out laughing once more at your face, "don't say it! No matter what!" he chides.

"Stop--" but you're grinning from ear to ear, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, "--Kuroo sensei, I hope you're not as playful with your students or they'd never learn anything from you."

"Course not," he winks, "I keep that solely for the pretty ladies."

His suggestive tone makes you blush despite it all and you look down at your coffee with the blush blazing so hard across your cheeks you swear everyone can see its colour from afar.

"I don't know how it is at home though," Kuroo's voice brings you out of your small bubble of warmth, "it must be tough handling Sakura all alone. Do you ever take a break?"

"Well, she goes to see her dad ever two weeks. But other than that, she's always with me unless my parents decide to come over. Which isn't as often as I would like."

"Why's that?"

"They live in the countryside and have a farm. It's hard for them to take days off, and I don't blame them not wanting to be around," your voice lowers to a mutter at the last few words, "especially after what happened with the marriage and all..."

"Marriages fail every time," Kuroo says gently then, "that too, isn't your fault."

"I wish my parents believed that," you let out a small laugh, "but they're right. We were too young to get married."

"But you have Sakura right? Isn't she worth it?"

His eyes, golden flecked and filled with so much hope and softness, meet yours from across the table. You suddenly feel a bit hot in your seat, wanting to squirm as you quickly look away from Kuroo's gaze because dear god, it's almost like he's ripping away, ripping apart every single layer of self-protection and preservation and reading you out like an open book.

"You're right," you clear your throat upon realizing he'd still been waiting for your response, "she is worth every single second. I wouldn't change anything about what happened. I just--I wish my parents could see it that way too."

"I think you spend a little too much time stressing about things you can't control," Kuroo takes another sip of his latte, "how about you learn to let go a bit? Maybe take the day off? Go hiking?"

"With Sakura?" you shake your head, "impossible, I--"

"Surely you have someone that can take care of her while you're gone," he tilts his head, jaw resting into one of his hands and making him appear all the more handsome.

Your thoughts flash to Atsumu. He's right, you could technically take a day off by dropping Sakura with the blonde. But she's not his responsibility and Atsumu has other priorities in his life rather than hang out with his niece. But Kuroo's persistence is strong and he makes you -- practically orders you -- to text him when he connects the dots that you two are also family.

"That guy can learn a thing or two about being responsible anyway," grins Kuroo, "so I'm sure he won't mind."

————

How did you end up here?

That's the question you keep asking yourself -- even when you're busy picking out your clothes only to realize that you barely have anything that's worth 'party material', even when you're attempting to do your makeup even though it's been almost three (or four?) years since you've tried to look your best because Sakura's wellbeing always came first.

Even when you're strapping up your black ankle boots, the question is getting drilled into your brain like a broken mixtape as you wonder whether this is a good idea after all.

"Go," Atsumu is firm when you call him for the nth time. It's five minutes until Kuroo's supposed to pick you up and feeling the pressure on your shoulders, you quickly decide to call your cousin in an emergency, "you have to do it, y/n. Stop making this all about Sakura. You need to be happy too."

"I am happy," was what you'd mumbled out in the phone receiver. You don't realize how tightly you're gripping the phone, so tight that your knuckles have turned white.

"I know you are, but you'll be happier if you live for yourself. At least for one night," Atsumu responds, "and Sakura's safe with me. And if ever there's an issue I'll call Osamu first to--"

"What?! No! No you call me first, okay?"

"Y/n please just relax. It's supposed to be a fun night."

You slump against the wall in defeat, "I don't even know why I'm doing this," you mumble mostly to yourself, though you're certain he can hear it too, "there's no point trying to prove that I'm content with my life. There are things that are going to leave me unsatisfied. I'm--I was fine with that, really."

"Are you though?" your cousin's voice is accusatory this time, "you're ready to live just for Sakura? Making her happy will make you happy too? Is this how it's supposed to work?"

"Technically yes, I'm her mother--"

"--And you've been left behind!"

The words are like a slap. You bite down onto your lower lip.

It draws blood.

You hiss, sucking on the skin as the metallic taste hits your tongue.

In truth, Atsumu has a point. You can't just live to make Sakura happy because that will ultimately destroy you. Not because she's not the only thing you need in your life. But because despite having your little girl being the center of your world, despite being able to sustain her with your career, you still feel like it's just yesterday when Aoi had upped and left you. His excuses, as pathetic as they had been, were arrows shooting straight into your heart. He left you crying into your pillow that night, hovering over your figure until you'd told him to 'get lost or I'll call the cops on you' before curling up on the small couch that you'd gotten rid of once he'd moved out for good.

So much pain. So much pain and haunted nights and obstacles that had come your way. That, along with caring for Sakura, had been a big hurdle. You remembered the long mornings, how hard it had been to drag yourself out of bed for the first few days. Atsumu had volunteered to stay with you then, giving you all the support you needed until you'd had enough strength to get back on your feet.

So he knew exactly what you'd gone through. Had seen it all first-hand. He wasn't kidding when he said you really needed to get laid. Somehow, he seems to have a valid point.

But it's been so long since you've left the dating scene that the thought of it makes you want to vomit.

"I'm sorry y/n, that wasn't cool." Atsumu's voice flows through the receiver like a lullaby and you take a deep, staggering breath, "I just--I know how hard it's been pulling your weight and caring for Sakura. It practically consumed your entire life. It's about time you get that motherfucker back for screwing things up--"

"Language," you tsk at him.

"You know what I mean," he replies impatiently, "So go out there, have fun. Get smashed. And at least do something to make you happy for a change. Alright?"

"Yeah okay," you mumble.

"And plus, you're with a bunch of guys that I know. They're cool. They'll keep an eye on you."

"Thanks mom."

"Anytime hun."

You can't help but giggle before you hear a car pulling up outside, "alright. I think my ride's here."

"Yeah, try to get laid okay--"

"Atsumu!" your cheeks flame, "I hope you're not saying all this in front of Sakura!"

A burst of laughter echoes from the receiver, "don't worry, miss Sakura is asleep. Have fun y/n! Take pictures!"

The drive there is less awkward than you'd imagined it to be, despite the fact that Kuroo's get-up does make your mouth salivate. And not just you. You realize a bunch of girls have him on their radar, from the stolen glances driven his way as you follow his broad back out of the parking and into the small terrace-looking entrance flanked by colored glowing palm trees.

"I haven't been in a club for like four years," you confess to him as you trudge into the queue. The air smells like cigarette and smoke. And something else. Something dangerous. It makes you giddy, you realize.

"Four years?" his eyes grow round as he looks down at you, "you have drunk before right? To the brink of passing out?"

"Like...maybe four years ago?"

His mouth opens, then closes. He shakes his head, a smile curving at the edges of his lips, "remind me not to drown you with tequila."

"I'll try my best."

You meet the rest of the gang upon stumbling into the club. It's dark and pulsating with music, with two dance floors separated by the DJ stationed on a platform right in the middle. Lights are bouncing off the space like crazy and all around you are moving bodies that writh and mold together until you're not sure where one ends and the other begins.

“Y/N! You’re here!” A drunk Hinata hooks an arm around your shoulder before steering you towards the bar, “you’re just in time! We were going for a round of lambos.”

“Lambos?” You balk and meet Kuroo’s eye, “you mean— Lamborgini’s?”

“Hell yeah!” Another one of the guys chimes in. It’s almost comical, the way they’re all stumbling against each other as you move like a congregation until you’re straight up in front of the barman.

“Ten Lambo’s please!” Hinata slams his card ontot he counter.

It brings back a wave of nostalgia, seeing the line of glasses and the way the bartender drops the alcohol in like he can do it with his eyes closed. You’re jostled and pressed against warm chests and shoulders, surrounded from all sides and yet, you feel safe with them all. That is, until you feel a soft brush against your elbow.

You turn to see Kuroo’s warm golden orbs.

“All okay?” He mouths to you.

You nod and give him a smile in return, and the grin that he cracks makes a troop of butterflies swoop into your stomach.

You look away just as Hinata thrusts a glass into your hands, “come y/n! This one’s on me!”

One shot becomes two. And two become three. Soon enough you find yourself on the dance floor and moving to the beat with one of the girls from the group— Yachi?— while the guys are trying to pay each other back their shots. The music vibrates through the floor up your body and flood your veins so that you get lost in it, ecstasy and the thrill of just being alive finally gushing through your brain, fogged up and amplified by the alcohol in your bloodstream.

It’s amazing. You feel free. Like nothing can stop you.

It’s honestly the best you’ve felt in a while.

After a while, you and Yachi decide to take a well-deserved break, stumbling over to the clustered seating space filled with red cushions as the boys scatter to find more alcohol. At this point you’re surprised that they’re still moving around and conscious, considering the amount they’ve drunk.

One of the boys— the one with the kind smile called Daichi— offers to get you guys some water as you take a seat, allowing your tired legs to take a break.

“I’m going to fine Hinata!” Yachi says into your ear and you nod before ushering her out of your way. There’s something between those two, a kind of tension that will develop into something more if they just allow it.

But you’re not one to meddle, not when your own love life’s a mess.

That’s when you notice.

It’s the lingering stare out of the corner of your peripheral that makes you turn your head.

Then you see him.

A tall, lanky man. He’s seated right opposite you, a drink in his hand and taking a swig. But there’s no mistake, for when his eyes meet yours across the room you can only jolt in shock.

You look away with embarrassment and disgust. Heat spreads to the back of your neck and goosebumps run up your arms. Suddenly, it’s a little too cold in this hot, sweaty club.

Why is he looking at you like that?

There’s no mistaking the intention. You risk one more glance and confirm that indeed, there’s a darkness in his eyes; the kind of a predator.

The kind that wants to strip you bare.

It’s unsetttling, unnerving.

Disgusting.

You don’t even hesitate. It’s like instinct for you jump off your seat with the only purpose to find Kuroo. But to your terror, the man starts to follow you. And soon enough it becomes a game of catch: of cat and mouse. You almost trip over your high heels as you push through the moving bodies as quickly as you can.

But the figure is there, hovering over you like a dark shadow that causes your heart to clench.

You bite back a whimper, pushing through a throng of girls as you frantically search for a sign of Kuroo’s familiar mop of hair. Or Hinata’s. Or just about anyone for that matter—

Bumping into a chest, you’re more than surprised as you let out a small yelp only to hear a familiar alto.

“Kosuke-san, everything alright?”

“K—Kuroo sensei,” your mumble is drowned in the beats of the music, eyes darting between his face and the dodgy man.

He’s now standing by the bar a few feet away from you. The same kind of withering stare that makes you wince.

Hurriedly, you turn to Kuroo and grip his shirt, wanting nothing more than to hide behind him, “I—uhm— there’s someone—“ the words jumble up as they pour out of your mouth and you find you can do nothing but grip his shirt for dear life, like Kuroo’s the only thing that can help you out of here.

Thankfully, he seems to understand your dilemma, for he puts a hand on your shoulder before steering you a little closer to him and away from the main path, a frown evident on his face, “what’s wrong Kosuke-san?”

But it’s only when he follows your fear-stricken eyes that Kuroo realizes there’s something — someone tormenting you. He recognizes the dark hunger, the prowling intent.

Instantly, his hand grips your waist. Tugs you closer.

You stumble into him, “Kuroo sensei—“

But Kuroo’s not having it. He stares the man down with a glower, longer body practically wrapped around yours in a protective embrace as he dares the man to do something, anything.

Try me, his eyes are saying, you’re not going to lay a single hand on her.

The stranger finally breaks eye contact after a few beats of silence and Kuroo keeps watch, golden eyes blazing until the man is nothing more but a memory of smoke as he disappears into the crowd.

Only then does he allow his hold to relax. Tilting down towards you. He murmurs out softly:

“He’s gone, Kosuke-san.”

You’re practically glued to him at this point, face buried in his chest and hands gripping so tightly onto his shirt that you might’ve grown claws. Kuroo nudges you gently once more, and that’s when you look up from the depths of his shirt.

The sight makes him almost coo because goddamnit even in the dim disco lights you look adorable. He has the sudden urge to pinch your cheeks and he’s glad his hands are somewhat occupied along your waist.

“You okay?” Is what he whispers.

You nod, looking a bit shaky and green int the face, “yeah—I’m—I’m fine. Thank you. He was—it scared me.”

“I know,” Kuroo draws away ever so slightly so he can have a better look at your face, “I’ll bring you home, alright?”

“No no it’s okay,” you shake your head and attempt a smile, but even Kuroo can see past those shaky lips, “you stay and have fun. I’ll call an Uber and—“

“Nonsense,” he grabs your elbow once more, “I’ll accompany you. C’mon.”

———

It’s definitely unnerving. It leaves you shaking with fear and you’re thankful for Kuroo’s strong grip on your arm as he maneuvers you out of the club.

The rush of cold wind hits your cheeks, leaving the soft beats of the club behind. Slowly, the world comes back into focus as the air rushes through your lungs and the sound bustling traffic in the distance is brought back into focus.

Only then do you realize how close you’re standing to the coach.

With a start, you stumble away with a muttered “sorry”, not daring to meet his eyes while quickly brushing off your clothes because dear god you weren’t sure what to do with your hands.

The uber arrives without much delay — thankfully — and the ride home is silent, almost as if there’s an awkward tension that has settled between the two of you. Away from the alcohol and now sobering up, it’s impossible to ignore the fact that you’d practically glued yourself to this man earlier. The act is so embarrassing you decidedly keep your gaze on the flurry of bustling streets and dim lamps flying by.

You don’t realize you’ve dozed off until a warm hand is shaking your shoulder, followed by a soft; “we’re here.”

You gasp, noticing that you’ve been pressed against Kuroo’s shoulder all this time.

“Oh,” you scramble away as quick as lightning, “I’m so sorry—“

His lips quirk upwards, “no harm done, senpai.”

You hate it when he calls you that. It makes you sound… old.

Nevertheless, you decide to be quiet as he accompanies you up to your flat, hands in his pockets while following you up the rusty stairs. You hope he’s not judging; it’s not like you have unlimited amounts of funding, what with Sakura’s education and activities.

“Well,” you finally reach the door to your flat and turn on your heel so that you face him, “thanks… for everything.”

"No problem," he's smiling down at you. Still so patient, still so happy to help. Your heart swells in your chest and you ask, "how are you getting back?"

"Oh, probably Uber..." he trails off, already turning away to fish his phone out of his pocket, "it's not far."

"Where do you live?"

You almost bawk when he tells you his address, because it's practically at the other end of town. He'll be there in forty-five minutes, at least.

The words are automatic, shooting out of you, "I'm so--"

But Kuroo's hand whips out, clamping over your lips. Your eyes widen as you look up at him, only to see the young man grinning like there's no tomorrow.

"You really need to stop doing that," he finally says before drawing back. Already, you're hit with the cold air following Kuroo's touch upon your skin, "I wanted to accompany you. There's nothing to apologize for."

"I know, but--"

He throws you another pointed look that has you clamping down on your mouth. You're about to say sorry once more because you're being a pathetic blubbery mess, but the look in his eyes makes you say a soft, "thank you" instead.

"You're welcome," and with one final grin and a wave to match, the school Coach disappears down the corridor, leaving you gazing at his broad back until his silhouette turns the corner and away from your sight.

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rinniessance · 1 year ago

Text

TEENAGE FEVER ༊*·˚ - suguru geto x fem!reader x satoru gojo

SUMMARY. you, satoru and suguru have been taking care of the fushiguro kids and the twins since your teenage days. after your latest mission, you reminisce about the beginnings of your little family. and during an impromptu trip, unspoken feelings finally come to a boil.

꒰ warnings: pure fluff! idiots in love. friends to lovers, mutual pining, family dynamics, non-canon compliant, megumi calls you mommy once ♡ // word count: 11.6k ꒱ ꒰ notes: another repost from my old account .ᐟ.ᐟ just really wanted to have this piece on my new blog <3 ꒱

sometimes you wonder why you agreed to be a part of madness that is the geto/gojo/you in a co-parenting throuple (you internally scream every time you remember how nonchalant satoru was about that description. what? i think that’s kind of adorable. you and suguru did not agree; somehow the name still stuck around). you would think that a pair of strongest sorcerers would be able to handle four first graders yet dozens of notifications that finally came through to your phone prove otherwise. your left eye twitches.

[ groupchat notifications: co-parenting throuple ] ‘toru /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\: girl dinner ! ‘toru /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\: [picture] sugu ₍ᐢ⑅ᐢ₎: im sorry i wasn’t there to prevent the disaster sugu ₍ᐢ⑅ᐢ₎: shall i prepare the casket?

messages are stamped two hours ago, and you’re too afraid to open the picture, dozens of different scenarios popping up in your head at the speed of light. when you finally unlock the messages, you think suguru was considerate enough to even suggest a casket because once you’re done with satoru gojo, there will be no body to bury.

you: you fed them cake for dinner ?? toru /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\ responded: it’s sunday! they deserve a little treat! sugu ₍ᐢ⑅ᐢ₎ responded: it’s a 12-inch cheesecake you responded: satoru, i know what you want to say, zip it. you’re in so much trouble already.

you: and why is it only you with the girls, where is megumi???? toru /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\ responded: and ‘gumi ate regular dinner like a child-man he is :< you responded: it’s called a man-child satoru… toru /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\: responded: no, megumi is a child-man because he has a soul of a man trapped in a body of a seven year old sugu ₍ᐢ⑅ᐢ₎ responded: so you’re calling him benjamin button? you responded: that’s why he doesn’t like either of you.

the frustration you felt towards satoru mere two minutes ago dissipates and gives space to something much warmer; the feeling that was tugging at you the whole weekend as you travelled to korea, sent away on a mission (you found yourself missing your little family more than you expected); the feeling that made you treating exorcising curses with utmost care because for the first time in a while, you want to come home safe. with a simple reminder of how lucky you’re to have satoru and suguru protecting the little piece of safe haven you carved out for yourselves; all the anger is gone as if it was never there in the first place.

you’re about to scroll through the earlier messages but flight attendant announces that the passengers are finally clear to get off the plane, so you shove the phone into your bag, grab your carry-on and hurry out. security check is surprisingly fast, and you’re riding a taxi back home in no time. you send a quick message to the group chat that you’re on your way and close your eyes.

quiet hum of the radio, steady movement of the car, and familiar surroundings immediately bring you peace – you’ve been feeling restless during your whole weekend trip, and now that you’re almost back with people you want to be with the most, you cannot help but smile. you’re being lulled to sleep by something pleasant playing on the radio, and your thoughts drift back to the day you found that being teenage parents can come in different forms.

3 years ago

you sigh again as you look at your watch. 4:23pm, satoru was supposed to be here 23 minutes ago. not only that, but he’s been ignoring your calls, not responding to your messages and did not tell anyone where he’s suddenly gone off to. suguru cannot be reached either, you know he has a mission today, so now you’re stranded in the middle of shibuya, your least favorite place to be, alone. you think this is the day you finally stab satoru gojo because he has the absolute nerve to beg you to come to this new dessert cafe, the one that just opened. supposedly, it was so good, you just have to try it - satoru convinced you to join him, knowing that you hate being in overcrowded spaces, only for to him to ghost you.

buzz of your phone brings you out of your thoughts.

[ incoming call: toru /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\ ]

“i swear to god, satoru, you better have to save half the planet as an excuse or —”

“where are you?”

“what? what do you mean where am i? in shibuya, where we were supposed to meet almost 30 minutes ago!”

“we’re going back to the school now, come back as soon as you can.”

and then he hung up. you blankly stared at the screen of your phone like it would somehow explain what just happened. with a deep sigh, you put the phone away and massage your temples, feeling the headache coming. satoru gojo might be the one who’s getting migraines from having six eyes but he always makes sure you have one too, just for the company.

ride back to the school is quick and easy – thankfully you’re in time to beat the rush hour, and currently, you’re standing in front of tokyo high. now that you’ve had time to calm your anger and frustration down, you realize that gojo would’ve at least texted you if he was late. something must’ve happened, and you feel panic start spreading its icy tentacles all over your body. picking up the pace, you almost run through the courtyard, pass the temple decorum and straight to doctor’s office – you assume he would be there if something happened.

you finally stand in front of the door: your breathing is heavy and you’re dizzy from how fast you sped up. the horrors of last year’s mission flash before your eyes, painting it blood, sorrow and anger, and you pray to every god known that it’s not a repeat of that failure. you almost lost suguru to the darkness that preyed on him, stalking his shadows, seeping through his skin – you are still haunted by how hollow his eyes became. you’re sure seeing him like this again will break you instead this time. you try to steady your breathing and knock.

“you can come in.”

of course satoru would know you were here. pushing the door and walking into the room, you are met by two little girls sitting on each suguru’s side on the hospital bed. satoru is standing next to them and observing his best friend who is gently murmuring something to the twins. both of them look unharmed which means shoko already worked her magic if it was necessary. it seems none of you want to bring up the elephant in the room so you just take a sit in the chair next to the desk.

“what happened?” your voice sounds loud in the hushed murmurs bouncing off the wall, and all four pairs of eyes are directed at you. it seems you startled the girls as they grabbed onto suguru’s sleeves – you cannot help but stretch your lips in a pretty smile, waving to them. “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” you tell them in a hushed tone this time, “would you tell me your names if i told you mine?”

brunette twin shakes her head for the both of them, and you introduce yourself. same girl responds to your curiosity.

“i am mimiko, and we’ve never met our parents but i know i am older by 5 minutes. and this,” she points at the girl on the opposite side of suguru, “is nanako. she is always a little shy so i make sure to talk for the both of us!” blonde girl curls a little more into your friend, and you finally make eye contact with him. you’re a little lost by what you see – hurt, anger, tenderness, confusion, he looks so defeated yet relieved at the same time. you’re turning to look at satoru instead but he only shrugs his shoulders.

“don’t look at me, he didn’t really share any details with me either.”

you hum in response and get up from the chair, walking to where the hospital bed is and squat to face them, extending your hand.

“well, it’s really nice to meet you, mimiko and nanako,” and as you get a little closer to their face, you whisper as it’s meant to be a secret, “i think we’ll become really good friends.”

from what satoru told you, it seems that him and suguru hadn’t had a chance to talk yet – girls looked very attached to dark-haired man already, it’s most likely they wouldn’t leave his side and whatever gojo wanted to discuss was not meant for children’s ears. you’re too scared to overstep the friendship boundary you just started building with the girls but you know the look on your friends’ faces, and they tell you they need to have a serious and most likely unpleasant conversation (not too hard to guess what about). standing up, you tentatively reach out your hands to nanako and mimiko.

“have you ever tried crepes? there is a very good place that sells them nearby. what do you say if we go and grab some dessert, just us girls?”

you could see their eyes lit up as they looked back at suguru, looking for a confirmation you’re safe to go with. he smiled at them (that smile that sometimes makes your heart skip a beat and makes you yearn for something you know you could never have), making wrinkles appear in the corner of his crescent-like eyes.

“she is my friend, you can go with her. i’ll meet you in a little bit,” and as he looked back at you, he mouthed quiet “thank you”. you only smiled in return: suguru never needed to thank you, not after the near escape to hell you guided him away from; not after the sleepless nights you spent keeping him a quiet company on the rooftops of jujutsu tech because silence was everything he needed in those moments; not after tight embraces you had to hold him in when you witnessed a sliver of panic attack creeping up on him when he least expected it. in the year that followed the disastrous star plasma vessel mission, you were the light that guided suguru back to himself, back to satoru, back to you. geto didn’t need to say thank you, at least not to you, not anymore.

grabbing two little girls by their hands, you lead them out of school.

“i promise you we will have the best time.”

present

the particular rough bump of the car brings you back to the present moment. you look at the time on your phone, display showing 11:23pm, and you smile looking at the picture on your lockscreen: it’s a picture of satoru with nanako and mimiko, their mouths stuffed full of crepes.

after suguru decided to take the girls in, you and satoru made it a habit of coming over and helping him take care of them. geto and gojo used to be inseparable but the rift that broke in between them in the year that followed amanai riko’s death was a surprise. being close to both strongest sorcerers, you knew why it was there, you knew the sheer trauma of it for both of them. so you stayed with gojo when he needed you to keep reminding him that his shoulders do not have to carry the weight of the whole world, and you’re here to share it. and you stayed with geto when he was plunged into the coldness of heart-wrenching guilt and needed you to pull him out from under the deep. after suguru adopted nanako and mimiko, you were the bridge that crossed a seemingly bottomless crevice between the two of them.

making satoru see what he was missing with suguru’s behavour at the time and asking suguru to understand why satoru was seemingly oblivious to it in the first place – the confusion, the pain, the loss of innocence, and everything unsaid that went on between them – was almost as difficult as being a sorcerer in the first place. by a miracle, you stopped being their overpass as they started rebuilding their bridges themselves. yet, the connection you weaved with the sacred geometry of your hands between the three of you created a special bond that prevailed until this day.

unlocking your phone, you scroll through the earlier messages in the chat: messages that kids already miss you (sent 30 minutes after your plane took off on friday), stories about their successful disneyworld trip on saturday (traitors, you think, you’ve been begging them for a family outing there for months now), and cake-baking adventures today (you internally dread the mess that will have to be cleaned up in the kitchen). looking back at you from your home screen is the picture of megumi and tsumiki on their first day of school, proud suguru holding both their hands (megumi refused to hold satoru’s hand so he refused to be in the picture – sometimes you wonder who is the older out of the two). warmth takes over your entire being once again, and you allow yourself to recollect the memories of how the last pieces of your family all came together.

2 years ago

“i am going to meet with that kid fushiguro was talking about before he, you know,” and satoru dramatically slashed his neck with his finger, poking his tongue out, imitating a dead face. nanako and mimiko laughed from the opposite side of the table while you kicked him on the shin.

“please, satoru, i didn’t sign up to babysit three kids. eat your breakfast, i need to get girls to pre-school, we can talk about it once i’m back.”

“what if i drive you? and then we can go grab kikufuku from the new place that opened near shinjuku station, i heard it’s really good.”

“satoru, it’s 7am in the morning. unlike you, i am a normal human being who cannot possibly consume that much sugar this early. and,” you lean in closer and whisper so the girls cannot hear, “please don’t say stuff like this in front of the twins, they will think it’s normal to be asking for dessert at this ungodly hour.”

satoru thinks it’s adorable, how you huff and puff at the girls like a mother hen. ever since the girls started living with suguru, you made it your mission to come over at least once a week to make sure they have everything they need – and nanako and mimiko, as they once confessed to geto, love your presence. after everything they’ve been through, the girls learned to recognize the intention behind people’s auras, and yours only gave them peace. and, unbeknownst to them at this tender age, they have craved peace for a very long time. so he bites his tongue and keeps the snarky remark he wanted to say, instead quietly whispering “sorry”, and you appreciate the gesture that may seem small to another, but speaks volume to yourself.

“fine. we will be leaving in,” you look at the watch, squinting and thinking about how much time you have left, “30 minutes, make sure you’re ready or we’re leaving without you.”

you let the twins finish their breakfast and rush both of them to brush their teeth before you prep their outfits. suguru was sent out on a mission for the whole week (you worry; satoru tells you that with how much you worry about everyone and everything, you’ll be grayer than him in couple of years) and asked you to stay with the girls until he returns. you won’t lie – you’ve grown attached to them within the short amount of time you’ve been helping taking care of them so you agreed to babysit in a millisecond.

you didn’t expect that a third child will be living with you all this week too.

“why don’t i get my outfit chosen for me?” you feel satoru before you can even hear him, the never-ending reach of his limitless tingling your senses, rushing the goosebumps up your spine (this is totally normal, right? friends make other friends feel like this, right?). and you wish he would only be the omniscient presence that makes your knees weak because as soon as he opens his mouth, you want to roll your eyes and smack the back of his head. you learned to treat him like a child, if he wanted to behave like one.

“because mommy is busy and you’re old enough to do it on your own.”

satoru did not expect you to say that, sudden blush rushing to his face making his thoughts drift in a direction incredibly inappropriate for a friend. great. you’re so gross, satoru. he suddenly turned away and rushed out from the bedroom (if you had more time, you would’ve asked him what his deal was but alas, you were already running late). then he proceeded to stay quiet the whole morning: while you were getting nanako and mimiko dressed, while he was driving all of you to school, while you waved goodbye to the girls and made your way back to the car. the phrase kept running through his mind the whole time until you cleared your throat and looked at him with your brow raised.

“what’s gotten into you? you’ve been suspiciously quiet the whole morning. didn’t you want to talk about something?”

he forced all the wrong thoughts to stay hidden for now, patted them away like crows nibbling at the forbidden nerves of his sudden need. he cleared his throat and started driving away from the school, not knowing where he was taking the two of you yet.

“uh, yeah. i was telling you that i am going to meet with the fushiguro kid tomorrow.”

“okay… and?”

“and what?”

“what are you going to do?”

megumi fushiguro was discussed among you before, but no concrete decision was ever reached. what if the kid doesn’t even want to go with him? he won’t be able to drag him by force unless he wants to be accused of child abduction.

“i don’t know. if he does want to come with me, i have the resources to keep him out of whatever deal his father cooked up for him with the zen’in clan. but if he doesn’t… by the time he realizes what zen’ins are, and if he ever wants to leave, it’ll be too late,” satoru clicks his tongue at the mention of one of the three big families. it’s no secret gojo clan has not seen eye-to-eye with zen’ins for a long time now but for satoru, it’s personal.

“you know, if you decide to take him in, it’s not like one more child will really make a difference. you’ll just have to stop coming around and it’s like nothing changed,” the words come out of you with such levity, satoru sometimes thinks you don’t even realize that your presence alone can make a wilted flower spring back to life.

he can only laugh in response. you haven’t even met the kid and you already welcome him like it’s nothing to worry about. gojo always wanted to compare you to the sun, the stars or any other celestial being that shines so brightly, they illuminate every shadow in their reach. but as the time passed, he realized that he didn’t want you to be a sun, or a star – then he will have to share your light with everyone else. no, you’re a flame in the home’s fireplace, warm and inviting to anyone who’s welcomed into your humble abode but lost to everyone else.

“you say that now. let’s see what happens when i show up with two kids instead of one.”

present

the memory makes you chuckle. sometimes you wonder if he knew megumi had a sister because when he did show up with two kids instead of a promised one, you swore he looked as smug as ever.

as the time went on, spreading yourself thin between going to university (you said you wanted to finish your degree in case your career as a sorcerer doesn’t work out), helping out geto and gojo on their missions when they asked you, and helping take care of both suguru’s girls and fushiguro siblings was proving to be too much. so satoru, for all his seemingly unlimited resources, decided that buying a house and living all together will be better. you knew that it was easier to move a mountain than change gojo’s mind once it’s been set on something so you didn’t argue. to no one’s surprise, living together for all of you came as naturally as breathing. who said a family cannot be three barely functioning not-even-yet adults and their four adopted children?

the familiar silhouette of home comes into view, and you sigh with relief. when the cab stops, you pay the driver, grabbing your things and rushing our the car. it’s the moments like this you envy satoru’s teleportation ability though you will never admit it to him out loud, lest you inflate his ego even more. you’re barely able to step away from the gates when the front door to the house swings open and you see the person you were just thinking about poking his head out.

“need a hand?”

gojo is as cheerful as ever, and you cannot help but smile back, lips stretching in that tired way he finds almost domestic, and he feels something prick inside him. not now. you want to say something back, but you’re interrupted by the sound of little footsteps running past satoru, towards you.

“you’re back, you’re back!” nanako and mimiko are the first rushing to greet you, with tsumiki hot on their tail. you see megumi standing in the doorframe trying to pat away satoru’s hand resting on top of his head as he comes out to greet you as well.

“oh my god, ‘toru, what are they still doing up, it’s past 12am!” you redirect your attention to the kids instead. “what are you little rascals still doing up, uh? just because you don’t have school tomorrow doesn’t mean you don’t have a sleeping schedule anymore!”

“gojo-san and geto-san said we can stay up today!”

“3 years later and you’re still the only one they call by your first name,” you hear suguru before you can see him: he is standing on the opposite side of megumi, letting the kid hide behind his leg to get away from gojo’s assault on his hair. you smile at them and decide there is no point of staying mad at them any longer.

the men help you to bring your bags inside, and you collapse on the couch as soon as you pass the threshold of your home.

“how was your trip?” megumi asks as he slowly crawls to sit on your right side. out of all the kids, megumi was the hardest to read – for a child his age, he was overly perceptive and did feel almost like an adult at times. what did satoru call him? a child-man, that’s right.

“it was good, ‘gumi. ‘m just tired now. how was your weekend? i saw someone took you to disneyworld when i was asking for it the whole time,” you said, raising your voice at the later part of the sentence so it can reach gojo and geto’s ears from where they were in the kitchen. you could only hear a light chuckle back.

“it was so fun! mimiko was scared of the ride we went on, but i was so brave!” nanako’s eyes twinkled with so much joy, you really wish you witnessed the moment yourself. satoru was right all those years ago, you were a mother hen back then, you’re a mother hen now.

“no, i wasn’t! tsumiki was scared more!”

“why are you lying? no, i wasn’t!”

“ay, ay! i’m sure all of you were equally brave. now, can you tell me why you stayed up this late?” you finally sit everyone down, satoru and suguru joining you with freshly brewed tea, and think this is the most at peace you’ve ever felt.

“we were waiting for you…” tsumiki shyly confesses on behalf of everyone.

“oh,” your vision gets blurry and you feel pearly beads of tears pool in the corner of your eyes before quickly blinking them away.

“ughhh, you cute little puppies, i just want to eat you up,” you say before anyone can question your tears and pull all of the kids into a bear hug. time is late, however, so you make a quick work of tucking everyone into bed now that they’ve seen you. you say your goodnights and leave their rooms.

“do we not get a hug now?” satoru asks, wearing his signature smirk, and you want to clap back with a retort of your own, chastise them for letting the kids eat cake for dinner and stay up past midnight, or remind them that they are not seven years old anymore; but the car trip and the memories you revisited bring out something nostalgic in you making you slowly walk up to satoru and hug him instead. he is taken aback at first but gojo has always been good at recovering from momentary stupor so he’s pulling you back into a hug in no time.

“you two are rude,” comes from suguru’s side and as soon as you’re untangling yourself from gojo, you’re walking up to the raven-haired sorcerer to do the same.

“i missed you two idiots.”

“we missed you too.”

the silence stretches across the room but it’s comforting and inviting, like an old friend who hasn’t visited in a while, enveloping the three of you in its embrace. you look at the clock on the wall, showing you 1:05am, and suddenly your whole body feels heavy.

“sorry guys, i think the trip is finally showing its signs… i am so tired, don’t even have energy to take a shower,” you say and groan in disgust. you hate going to bed without washing the grime of the day off your body but the fatigue is clinging onto your skin like humid air. “i’m going to bed now, see you guys tomorrow.”

“good night.”

“sleep well.”

and if you paid closer attention, you would’ve noticed the deep seated longing in the men’s gazes, the one that you sometimes have to hide from them too; you would’ve noticed how suguru’s hand is following yours long after you’re out of their sight, and how satoru’s tongue darted out to wet his lips when you were pressed against him, even if for a second; you would’ve noticed that the feelings you’ve been trying to push deep down for your two best friends are reflected all the same somewhere in the constellation of their eyes.

next morning you wake up as a result of someone laughing your name and jumping on your bed. sunlight is peaking through the curtains, making sun bunnies dance on the walls of your room and kiss your cheeks. you try to open your eyes but your head feels heavy like you’ve just fallen asleep and you struggle to make out your surroundings – feeling disoriented first thing in the morning is definitely your least favorite thing. you groan softly and finally force yourself to lift your eyelids – as you do so, you’re met with two little girls using your bed as a make-shift trampoline.

“wake up! wake up! gojo-san and geto-san told us we will be leaving to go to the sea in an hour!” and they swiftly left, just as quickly as they had come in, leaving you to stare up at the ceiling in confusion.

“uh?”

once the words really settled in, you’re getting up from the bed in record time and putting on the first clothes you lay your eyes on. you find the strongest duo already up and ready. all of the kids, worryingly, also look like they are ready to leave the house, and there are bags near the door with both satoru and suguru looking too smug not to be suspicious about it.

“what is going on here?” you ask from the doorway that connects the hallway leading to your rooms to the kitchen. “why am i hearing that we’re going to the sea, and why are you dressed like this?”

“well,” satoru starts, “because we are going to the sea so we’re wearing appropriate clothing. you’re the only one who’s still not dressed.

you close your eyes and massage the bridge of your nose. mentally you douse whatever feelings you were having for these idiots yesterday.

“why am i hearing about this only now?”

“surprise?..”

“i know it’s last minute, but satoru made a promise to drive so you can relax in the car while we’re on the way there. just get ready and we can leave right after,” suguru says from his place on the couch, and you cannot help but sigh deeply and return to your room to shower and quickly pack.

when you’re out of earshot, geto shoots gojo a look.

“what are you planning, satoru?”

“why would i be planning anything? she’s been really stressed recently, and then the higher ups have the audacity to send her away for a whole weekend and give you a mission that took your whole sunday at the same time she was sent away. i was overworked the week before that. sometimes it feels like they are doing this on purpose. so maybe we should all disappear for a couple of days with no way of contacting us, maybe they’ll stop pestering us like we’re the only sorcerers available.”

“very mature of you, ‘toru.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever.”

the two of them finish packing the last of the food that gojo bought in the morning while waiting for you. reserving a spot this late in one of the most popular vacation spots in japan was hard, but nothing is impossible when you’re satoru gojo.

you’re ready in record time, and the kids are all yelling and arguing about who is going to sit where. you need to intervene and say you will be sitting in the back of suv with nanako and mimiko, while mugumi and tsumiki agreed to sit in the middle row; suguru is riding shotgun and satoru has agreed to be your driver for the ride. unsurprisingly, not even an hour out of the city, the car is filled with snoring as the kids fell asleep shortly after you started driving. you feel yourself getting drowsy, closing your eyes and swearing you will only sleep for a moment. however, the next time you open them, you’re informed by suguru that all of you are already halfway through the trip.

“oh my god, i can’t believe i slept for that long,” you mumble through a voice heavy with drowsiness. “i think it’s best if we stop somewhere now, i’ll wake the kids up so they can eat quickly and pee. i suggest we all do it.”

“yeah, i think it would be best, i don’t know if we will have the opportunity to stop any time soon,” satoru agrees with you, and the drive continues for 20 more minutes until you’re stopping at the gas station. you gently wake the kids up and let them know that they need to have a snack and go to the restroom (time is 11:20am and they should be able to fall asleep again with no issues after that).

“how much longer do you think we have to drive?” you ask satoru as he is refilling the gas tank. you’re watching suguru watch the kids where they are running around nearby.

“maybe 2.5-3 hours, depending on the traffic.”

“did something happen during the weekend?”

“no, why would you ask?”

“hm…” you quickly hum, “this is all too sudden for it to be spontaneous.”

“oh, common, don’t be like that. i just think the little family of ours needs a mini vacation, that is all.”

as soon as the words leave his mouth, gojo can feel the blush creeping up all the way to his ears and he clears his throat, walking away. you don’t know what makes you giggle more – the way he admits that whatever it is you have, he also sees it as a family, or the way the confession makes him feel embarrassed. you observe him preparing to get into the driver’s seat – sometimes you wonder what is happening in that handsome head of his. you glance at suguru and wonder if he would have a better guess.

gojo lets you know that you’re good to depart again. the second part of the trip is as chaotic as you would imagine it go and you give up on trying to make kids to go back to sleep. instead, you’re breaking up the fights between almost everyone: nanako and mimiko argue about their friendship bracelets across from you; you keep having to remind gojo that he is indeed an adult in this situation while he wants to continue arguing with megumi; and suguru somehow breaks the AC so the last 30 minutes of the drive everyone is suffering in silence.

once you finally pull up to the little vacation house gojo somehow procured at the last moment, you’re already feeling at your limit: you need the sun and to dive into warm water before you start losing your hair.

geto helps you with the bags while gojo unloads everything into the kitchen – you’re not sure how long you’re staying here for but the amount of food they brought will last you a nuclear winter. the children are excited about their rooms, and you must keep reminding them to be careful and to not run into any corners despite their enthusiasm. you help them unpack and choose outfits for the day – it’s been decided in the car that you will be going to the beach as soon as you’re settled.

everyone is ready in half an hour – you helped the girls get into their swimming suits, while megumi insisted he can do it himself (you suggested geto or gojo help him, but he closed the door in their faces and didn’t come out until he was done). both men were already waiting by the door with the picnic bags and beach essentials – you had to admit they looked a little too good, making a knot twist in your stomach.

satoru was dressed in a simple white button up that matched his hair and a pair of navy swim trunks. maybe he was right, this trip was long overdue for all three of you, as gojo looked more relaxed and at peace than you’ve seen him in a while. his lips were stretch into a lazy smile and his eyes, unobstructed by the glasses or a blindfold, had a glint of mischief that reminded you of a 16 year-old boy you met all those years ago. he tried his best to style his white unruly hair but the surrounding humidity only made it frizzier.

gojo makes it seem almost effortless, with how good he looks, and maybe part of it is true – despite never admitting it out loud, you know he won the genetic lottery when it came to his appearance. but you also know that satoru has an unrelenting skin care routine (because you buy your products together); that he asks what you think about his outfits even though you keep repeating you should be the last person he asks for fashion advice (don’t worry about it, princess, your opinion is the only one that matters anyways and you hate how your heart clenches at these words); and that he spends 45 minutes taking his showers. but what gojo doesn’t know is that you adore him the most first thing in the morning – eyes so sleepy he can barely keep them open, voice gruff and low asking what’s for breakfast, wearing his sleeping gray sweatpants and nothing else. and he will never know lest you want to ruin everything you’ve worked so hard to build between the three of you.

you moved your eyes away from gojo to where suguru was leaning on the door. he was wearing a blue hawaiian shirt with the three top buttons popped off, paired with simple black swimming shorts. his hair was put into a perfect manbun, however, unrelenting bangs always make themselves known untangled from the rest of his locks. you noticed it back when you were teenagers and got used to carrying bobby pins for him – he somehow always leaves them at home (you will never admit but you love the fact that he always forgets them – it gives you another reason to run your fingers through his hair) – and this habit stayed with you all the way into adulthood. while satoru was handsome in a regal way, suguru was all sharp edges that made him look almost dangerous – pronounced jaw, pointy nose, almost cat-like eyes; the kind of beauty that always makes you weak in the knees.

“see something you like?” satoru’s voice takes you out of your daydream and, shamefully, you realize you’ve been standing in the corridor doorway, gawking at them like it’s your first time seeing their faces. you only groan in response and roll your eyes, trying to hide the blush that adores your neck and flushes your cheeks red.

“if i saw something i like, i would’ve told you,” and you stick your tongue out. liar.

“are you feeling well? you look a little red, maybe you got a fever?” comes from suguru’s side now as he tries to reach for your forehead but you swat his hand away.

“ugh, i hate both of you.” liar. they only laugh when you rush past them, megumi and nanako on either side of you holding your hands while tsumiki sits on satoru’s shoulders and mimiko takes her rightful place on suguru’s back.

“whatever you say, sweetheart.”

the way to the beach is short and sweet, your attention is fully dedicated to megumi and nanako as they re-tell you the stories from their weekend. ‘gumi won a plushy and gave it to mimiko because she asked him to play in the first place, and tsumiki, apparently, had the highest score in the game where you punch a bag to see how strong you are. nanako says that helping satoru bake the cheesecake on sunday was her favorite part of the weekend, and you make a mental note to let her help you the next time you do it.

from behind you, geto and gojo observe your interactions with the kids, each of them in their own thoughts, yet both mulling over the same thing – you, letting tsumiki and mimiko chat between themselves.

neither of them thought you would become a constant in their lives when they decided to take in the kids – after all, none of you were in a relationship, despite their feelings for you, and you had no obligations to be giving them so much of your time. but as the time went on, all three of you fell into a comfortable routine that was both a blessing and a curse – they couldn’t confess that the boyish crush they had on you in your teenage years not only endured but blossomed into something so much more. that something kept growing inside their ribcages, weaving and building a home there, rooting itself so deep, they forgot what life was like before you offered them your light.

satoru and suguru only discussed this once between each other. the unspoken feelings they had not only for you but also for each other made already complex situation even more complicated. the fear of damaging the carefully built dynamic between the three of you was overwhelming - so overwhelming in fact, both agreed to never speak of this again. pandora’s box was sealed, and only you behold the power to open it. the strongest duo knows why this little box of wonders needs to be locked far away from them - however, it’s moments like this, when megumi asks to be carried in your hands (even though he’s getting too big for that) while nanako clenches your hand harder and you indulge both of them without a moment’s delay, that make them wish you knew: knew how much suguru adores the little tilt to your head when you’re confused about something, knew how much satoru loves smoothing out the wrinkles on your head when you’re deep in the thought, knew how both of them yearn for your laugh after a long day.

the cute white bikini you’re wearing is definitely not helping the ever-running thoughts two men are trying so hard to push down. it’s not the first time the absolute indecency of their desire is sparked by the slight bounce of your tits and the swing of your hips. memories of countless times they had to take an extra shower in the morning because you would show up in the kitchen in one of their shirts, without a bra, nipples hard and visible through a thin fabric, should make them feel embarrassed, yet the shame never comes. when did the longing for you start feeling so right?

as the years progressed, this dance the three of you did around each other became familiar, and none of you dared to switch the melody.

sometimes you wish you were brave enough to do it.

“look, look, we’re finally here!” mimiko yells from suguru’s back and then instructs him to put her down. nanako lets go of your hand as tsumiki’s climbing down satoru’s shoulders, and three girls run away towards the sea.

“be careful! you still need to put your sunscreen, don’t run away too far!” you move your attention to the little boy you released from your hold as you entered the beach, “‘gumi, you’re not going with them?”

you wiggle his arm back and forth (his hand is so tight in yours, gripping now harder than before) but he refuses to look at you so you don’t push.

“did you forget he doesn’t know how to swim?” satoru says from behind you, and you shoot him a look. god, was he purposefully trying to rile megumi? fushiguro only digs his fingers further into your hand, and you honestly want to bite satoru’s head off.

“that’s okay, baby, i’m sure your dad needed support of his whole clan when he was trying to learn how to swim.”

“he is not my dad.”

your brain goes blank for a second, and you hope satoru did not hear what you just said (he did; but he thinks he’ll spare you the further embarrassment; he also doesn’t want to admit that it makes his stomach turn in a way he wish it wouldn’t).

“you’re right, dummy like him could never be your dad.”

you find the spot not too far from where the girls are playing, and you help geto and gojo set up the blankets and umbrellas. while they are making sure none of it flies away with the first gust of the wind, you search for the sunscreen in your bag.

“girls! come here, we need to put sunscreen on you!”

you hear the tatter of 6 feet rushing towards you, trying to get first in line so they can all get back to playing in the water. you hand satoru and suguru two other tubes you brought.

“help me to put this on them. i think if we don’t do it in the next minute, they will actually explode,” you say, smiling at how impatient tsumiki is being in front of you as she keeps bouncing on her legs. before you start on the sunscreen, you turn her so her back is facing you and let her hair out of the ponytail as you try to retie it. she winces a bit and lets out a small ouch.

“’m sorry baby, didn’t meant to hurt you, you okay?” you ask as you rub on the roots of her hair.

“yeah, i’m okay!” she exclaims loudly, making you giggle. once her bun is all set in place, you quickly put the sunscreen on her whole body, finishing with the face, and boop her nose. tsumiki scrunches it in her adorable way, and you feel your heart swell with joy and love.

once the girls run off again, suguru comes up to you with the tube of sunscreen in hands.

“don’t you think you need a little help too?”

the smile adorning his face is so sweet, he doesn’t realize the summersaults it’s making your heart to do. and when you think about those hands on your shoulders, on your back, going lower where you want them most, you realize you actually might be burning up. but you can’t come up with an excuse fast enough not to let him do it so, without any words lest you’ll be embarrassing yourself, you just turn around and present him your back.

geto start slowly with your shoulders, squeezing the tube and spreading the sunscreen on your soft skin. you swear you can hear him sharply inhale, and your heart involuntarily skips a beat. you let yourself wonder, just for a second, how these hands would feel on the parts of your body where you want them most, if geto would be as gentle squeezing your breasts and tugging at your nipples. and when his hands start travelling lower, caressing the space between your shoulder blades and running his fingers down your spine, you wonder if his long digits would reach the spot inside your gummy walls that you’re unable to find yourself. you absolutely lose yourself to the indecent thoughts when he starts massaging the sunscreen into your lower back. that man, you think, if only he knew what he was doing. it takes all of your willpower to prevent yourself from moaning out loud and not tremble at his mere touch. you want to lean back and tilt your head to the side so geto can leave a trail of wet kisses on the side of your neck, following the curve of it to your jaw, and capture your lips in a way that only lovers can.

you can feel your skin grow hot and your white bikini better not show how embarrassingly wet you got from your best friend’s touch. you’re so sick, you think to yourself and before it becomes any worse, you’re untangling yourself from suguru’s arms and call out for megumi.

“i… uh… will go swim with him, don’t want him to get bored,” you breathlessly whisper as if too afraid to speak any louder, and call out to the boy.

“‘gumi, common! grab your floaties and we’ll go play a little further away from the girls,” you wait for him to grab his stuff, and you notice one of his rare smiles – he never hid the fact that you were his favorite out of three adults, and he always feels a little smug when your undivided attention is on him. satoru shoots him a knowing look which megumi successfully ignores, clinging to you.

you pass the girls as you show them the direction you’re taking megumi in and they all say “okay!” at the same time like it’s rehearsed. mimiko, nanako and tsumiki are in a competition to see who can gather the most seashells and are left under the attentive gaze of gojo and geto. you help megumi put his floaties on and gather him into your arms so you can walk a little deeper: once you’re satisfied with the distance, you try to let him go but he is attached to you like a baby koala.

“common ‘gumi, i promise i won’t let you go, okay? i’ll be right here in case you need help, and i’ll be also holding onto you the whole time.”

fushiguro only violently shakes his head, not wanting to be in the water by himself. you wonder where this fear comes from and think you’ll have to revisit it later. you don’t push any further, and hug him closer, running a smoothing hand on his back while he puts his head on your shoulder. you squat a little to help him get adjusted to the temperature, and he shrieks from the sudden rush of water above his waist while hugging you tighter, almost choking you. laughter bubbles in your throat but you don’t want to make megumi feel worse than he already does so you try your best not to let it out.

“hey, baby, it’s okay. i am holding you, yeah?” and as you say that, you try to push him away from you one more time, to let him experience the ocean by himself but he only tightens his hold as a sign he is not moving away. so you resign to gently swaying with him in the water, letting the salty waves wash around you. you can feel the sunlight dancing on your skin, warm breeze carrying all your worries away, if just for a moment, and you close your eyes allowing yourself to take all of it in. megumi’s head is pleasantly heavy on your shoulder, and you walk little bit further away from the beach until you bump into someone.

“oh, i am so sorry!” you instantly apologize and turn around. what you don’t expect is to be met with the pair of the most beautiful green eyes you see (your mind involuntarily goes to gojo and how even these emerald eyes pale to comparison to the infinity carried by his gaze). you think if your heart didn’t belong to the two most annoying human beings you’ve ever had a pleasure of encountering, you would’ve fallen head over hills right here, right now.

“please, no need to apologize.”

surprise number two: this stranger is not only handsome, but also has a voice that makes you want to do whatever he asks you to, as long as he keeps talking to you. and again, you think how unfortunate of you to fall in love with two people you can’t have when men like this walk around for free.

he smiles when his attention falls to megumi - little boy appears not to be happy with this encounter. who does this man thinks he is? maybe megumi didn’t want to learn how to swim, it doesn’t mean that he is willing to share you when he just got you away from two men on the beach (he is not old enough to rationalize that what he is feeling is jealousy; you never noticed but, geto and gojo excluded, he never liked how other men talk to you in the first place).

a handsome stranger doesn’t seem taken aback by the attitude from megumi, and for a seven-year-old, your little boy has a mean death stare.

“he is very cute, what is his name?”

“he’s megumi,” you give him your name as well and extend the arm for introduction. before a man can even respond, megumi is tugging your arm away and whines, speaking loud enough for satoru and suguru to hear, who, unbeknownst to you, have been watching the interaction this whole time (spoiler – they are not very happy about it but proud of the kid, truly an oscar-worthy performance).

“mommy, i want to learn how to swim now!”

you think you heard him wrong – he has never called you this before. if it happened any other time, you think you would’ve cried tears of happiness. now it only makes you feel stupor. how does he even know to call you mommy in this situation? megumi has always been the most well-behaved one out of all four kids, the disbelief at his attitude is written all over your face. what is he playing at?

“oh, i’m sorry, i didn’t realize he was your kid,” the man says but hurries to add, “i adore children though; i work at a pre-school. hi megumi, my name is rei.”

the boy looks at the outstretched hand the man offered like it personally offended him. all of a sudden, he points to the beach where satoru and suguru seat and announces, yet again loud enough for them to hear.

“my daddies are just right there!”

what happened to “he’s not my dad?” you think in panic.

you’re not sure if gojo and geto can hear the full conversation, but they wave back at you anyways. rei moves his gaze from you to megumi to two men on the beach, trying to decide if he should believe it or not. you, on the other hand, are speechless and currently wishing someone would be kind enough to curse you right now, or for the ground to split and swallow you whole with how hot and embarrassed you feel. megumi is so grounded today. you can feel the inner temperature rise to the inappropriate levels, feeling like a kettle that is about to overheat – you don’t wait for rei’s response while saying awkward “bye, nice meeting you!” and rushing away.

“welcome back, mommy,” satoru teases when you settle back at your spot. megumi is sitting on the opposite side of you, munching on the watermelon like he didn’t just make an absolute fool out of you in front of a random man. you try your best to ignore satoru, but his comment only makes you groan, sound almost bordering a sob.

“please, for the love of everything holy, don’t say another word. i bet it was you who put this idea into his head.”

“you know as well as we do that you can’t make megumi do anything he doesn’t want to,” gojo responds with the knowing smirk, and you only sink into yourself further. your face is burning up, and now you think it’s not because megumi’s whole afternoon mission was apparently to embarrass you in front of a stranger but because of what he said. the shock of the moment is finally dissipating, instead giving the space to indescribable tenderness. you will have to cry about it later on your own so to save yourself further shame, you hide your face behind your hat and lay down, contemplating how this one simple word somehow turned all of your insides upside down.

what you fail to notice is the proud smile satoru shoots to megumi, mouthing “good job” and suguru passing him his favorite candy knowing he’s not allowed to eat it before dinner.

you feel absolutely drained. after the incident with megumi, you stayed in the same position until the kids started complaining that they were hungry. the sun is getting low, painting the skies ochre and pink, giving everyone its glowing kiss. you dare to peek at satoru and suguru, and they looked almost ethereal – sunshine dancing on satoru’s white eyelashes as he dries tsumiki with a towel and nodding enthusiastically at the collection of shells she is showing him, while suguru tries to untie nanako’s wet hair so he can wrap a towel around it. mimiko slowly drags her legs towards you, poor girl absolutely exhausted, and as soon as you open your arms to embrace her with a towel of her own, she plops against you and almost momentarily falls asleep.

suguru offers to carry her home, but you wave him off, asking to grab megumi’s hand instead.

“i am not cooking once we get home, we better buy food now or we can drive into the city.”

“ugh, i don’t think i have the strength to drive,” satoru whines like he is the youngest out of the bunch. “let’s just buy something here, it smells pretty good.”

suguru only hums in agreement, listening to nanako and tsumiki argue about who got the most shells (both fail to count their shells correctly), and with that, your dinner plans are decided with satoru ordering your food from the stall nearby.

“what do we say when someone gets you food?”

“thank you, gojo-san!” three little voices echo each other, and you’re surprised even megumi joined in. the way back home is quick as you’re standing in front of your door in no time.

“oh my god, my legs are killing me,” you complain as you pass the threshold of the house. mimiko has been sleeping in your arms the whole way back, and you don’t know if you should wake her up and ask her to eat, or if you should just let her sleep. you can still smell the ocean on her skin, and you decide it’s best for her hygiene and your peace of mind that she is clean before she goes to bed too so with a heavy heart, you’re gently shaking her awake once you sit down on the couch.

“hey sweetie, we’re home. let’s eat, bathe and then i’ll put you back to bed, yeah?” her eyes are unfocused as she opens them, and she’s letting out a long yawn before slowly nodding her head and getting up.

“okay, everyone, go wash your hands, dinner will be ready soon,” suguru says from where he already stands in the kitchen, and all four pairs of legs excitedly hurry away.

“i hope the adventure today is enough to put them all to sleep right away,” you wistfully say.

“with their tummies full, i’m sure they will pass out in no time,” suguru says back while satoru circles around him to grab the plates from the overhead cupboards. you want to get up and help but looking at them like this, all domestic and familiar, the side of the strongest sorcerers only you get to see, makes you stall for a second to appreciate this moment for a little longer. the dull ache in your chest starts throbbing again as if someone’s picking at the rough edges that never seem to fully heal, and you wonder if you could have it all if you were a little more selfish. you shake your head banishing all unnecessary thoughts from your head.

the dinner is eaten quickly, everyone so hungry, you barely exchange any words. you can see the children are struggling to keep their eyes open, tsumiki almost falling face first into the plate, so you make a quick work of their unfinished dinner and hurry them into a bathtub. megumi insists he is old enough to take a bath separately from the girls so you ask either satoru or suguru to help him (megumi makes it known who he prefers by grabbing suguru’s hand and dragging him to the second bathroom). bath time is also surprisingly quiet, low energy in the room being an indicator of just how exhausted everyone is.

with the kids finally tucked into bed (megumi apologized for misbehaving, and you think about how far you’ve come with the boy who wouldn’t utter a full sentence to you for the first 6 months), you grab the beer from the fridge and make your way onto the patio where satoru and suguru are already engaged in conversation.

they turn their heads toward you once you step outside and offer you the space between them which you gladly take. you can see suguru is nursing his own beer, while satoru opted out for a bottle of virgin mojito.

“did neither of you really ask megumi to call me “mommy” today?” you wonder out loud as you’re looking out into the horizon, where the last rays of sun melt into the ocean, clearing the canvas for the stars to spark to life.

“nah, you know how stubborn that kid is,” satoru drawls as he takes another sip of the drink; you scrunch your nose just imagining how sweet that concoction is but smile, nonetheless. “plus, it was nice being called a dad.”

both you and suguru turn to look at him, but he stubbornly keeps staring forward. you snort, seeing geto’s smile in your peripheral vision, but there is no malice behind your action. both you and suguru always knew that gojo cared in the same capacity as the two of you for the kids, he was just a little more stubborn about admitting it. you can see it in the way he handles them after they wake up from nightmares (because he knows the same thing haunts him), how he packs them lunches to school when neither you or suguru are able to do it (i know i am not as great of a cook as those two but it’s better than buying stuff from the store), how he allows them to have sweets from his secret stash when everyone else (even you and geto) are not permitted to even think about it. the two of you always knew how much he cared – satoru just needed a little push to say it out loud.

you’re about to say something witty but suguru speaks up first.

“would you have continued flirting with that man if it wasn’t for megumi?”

“flirting? i wasn’t flirting with him!”

“whatever, talking,” geto waves a hand at you like it’s all unimportant details. “would you?”

the air suddenly feels charged with electricity, years of longing and yearning threaten to rip everything at the seams. you tried so hard to move past them, move past your silly little crush, failing miserably. not that dating other people was an option for you anyways – you are sure anyone, upon hearing that you take care of four small children at only age 21, will run away in the opposite direction. it’s a good thing it didn’t matter to you either way – the kids became an integral part of your life, and you would not give them up for anything. but sometimes, just sometimes, when the loneliness creeps into the parts of your bones that have no space for it, when the heart becomes a little too big for your own chest trying to escape through rushed beats, when you tremble from how longing encompasses your whole being, you wonder how it would feel if romantic love was made for you too.

you tilt your head to look at suguru, trying to find something in his face. he doesn’t know why he asked that question – maybe it’s the sun rush of the day, the good mood he’s been in recently or how that man looked at your body – but it felt right. and he knows he’s being selfish without discussing it with satoru beforehand, but he’s so tired of hiding, so tired of pretending like he doesn’t dream of waking up next to your warm bodies, so tired of thinking about what ifs and could haves - asking that question only felt right.

“no, i don’t think i would’ve returned his sentiment,” you simply state and hope that they would leave it at that. you know they never do.

“why?” it’s satoru’s turn in this interrogation, and he looks at you in a way that makes your pulse pick up its pace.

“because…” you don’t know what you’re supposed to say. because you’re in love with your best friends? have been since you were 16 years old? you’ve been carrying the weight of unrequited love for so long now, you think you’re afraid what will happen to the space it occupies if you confess. you hope you know them enough to realize they will not make fun of you for your confession, at most making lighthearted jokes about how they always knew you were not immune to their charms, but your palms are getting sweaty just anticipating their reaction.

“because?” satoru nudges you again, and you dare to steal a glance into his baby blues. satoru’s eyes have been compared to the most prized sapphires, an ocean that will never be fully explored, the skies that are bigger than life itself – all the metaphors that describe him to the outside world perfectly. however for you, his eyes are the color of blueberries that he painstakingly picks out of tsumiki’s desserts and gives to megumi; they are the color of his favorite shirt that is more gray now than blue with how much he washed it but refuses to throw away; it’s the blue ribbons he picked out for nanako’s and mimiko’s hair for their first day of school. you look into his eyes and see a sparkle of something familiar, something you’ve seen in your eyes times and times before, staring back from the reflection in the mirror.

unexpectedly, you feel dizzy and don’t know if it’s the summer breeze that makes your head feel heavy, the alcohol swimming in your veins, or the present company, but you’re brought back to when you were all 16 and innocent, to the moment before the steady ground was violently ripped from right underneath your feet. you think about amanai and that she still loved and cared despite knowing how all of it would end for her. you think about haibara, and how he was full of promise and life and so, so much love, you almost feel sick again.

you’re quiet as you contemplate, and the men don’t interrupt your train of thoughts. memories flash before your eyes like snapshots of old cameras, making them wonder where you have gone off to.

but then you think about how it ended, for the both of your friends, in blood and violence and guilt, their life threads cut short before either of them knew what life even is. amanai and haibara didn’t get enough time to figure it all out: have they loved anyone the way you love satoru and suguru? would have they have had time to figure it out if it was a fair world?

you can feel your best friends’ body heat wrap around you, encapsulating you in their scent and presence, and you decide you’d like to stay like this forever. you think about everyone who didn’t get to spend another hour with someone they love, and you realize you’d regret it your whole life if something happens and they didn’t know how they make you feel. and with the life you lead, something can happen at any moment. you steady your hands and take a deep breath, reading yourself. now or never.

“because i am in love with you two, and i have been since we were 16.”

you close your eyes, waiting for the laugh to come, for them to say oh, you little silly girl, to chastise you for falling for the only two people that will never be yours. you wait and wait but nothing comes. instead, you feel someone’s knuckles brushing lightly against yours and gasp, opening your eyes. what you didn’t expect to see is your two best friends looking at you as if they are seeing you for the first time, their lips stretch in smiles so wide, it looks like it’s supposed to hurt. and eyes, their eyes, say so much without them needing to say anything at all.

“so… what you’re saying is that we’ve been blue balling each other since we were 16?”

“ohmygodsatorupleasestop,” words leave your mouth all jumbled up, you’re sure they didn’t understand what you said. gojo might be a little crude but the meaning behind his childish metaphor is not lost on you – three of you have been oblivious to each other’s feelings for five years now, and a pang of regret shoots through you. how different would everything be if you were brave enough to confess all those years ago?

“have both of you really known since you were 16?”

“yes.”

both of them say it with such conviction, you feel yourself get lightheaded. you don’t want to cry but tears are pooling in your eyes involuntarily, and you sniff a little into satoru’s shoulder.

“aw, why are you crying? i thought we all finally agreed to be happy,” suguru coos at you from the side. the warmth of your hand in his still feels unreal – like it’s someone else’s arm attached to him, and he‘s just observing as a passer-by. he brushes your knuckles with the pads of his fingers and it feels right, how your digits perfectly intervene with his and how your head fits just right into the crook of satoru’s neck, and how your lips look so perfectly kissable and shiny right now. but he doesn’t want to rush the fragility of the moment, so he only squeezes your hand tighter.

“because we could’ve had this all this time… if we were just a little braver.”

“don’t you think we are already brave enough, all the time?” satoru asks this time. “maybe it’s okay for us to be a little cowardly, even if it’s not entirely good for us. we have next memory to look forward to anyways.” gojo lifts your head and looks into your teary eyes – you’re so beautiful, it almost hurts. he let his daydreams to be full of you and your lips and your touch, that it takes everything in him not to cross the distance in a searing kiss. but he knows it’s not the right moment, so he just swipes your tears away and kisses you on the forehead. behind you, you can feel suguru’s lips gently touch your exposed shoulder.

and just like that, all worries dissipate like sand through the cracks between fingers. what is the point of worrying about the past when you have future full of love in front of you? you don’t know what tomorrow holds for three of you with your souls now bare for each other, but you have the time to discover it together. for now, you’re content with this moment, salty ocean breeze dancing on your skin, the warmth of suguru’s palm in yours and satoru’s shoulder lulling you to sleep, and you think that maybe you’ve always meant to end up here, between them.

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kuroppiii · 5 months ago

Note

HI HIHIII!! i have a silly request if you dont mind ×_×

there are a few haikyuu boys with longer hair (kenma, bokuto(?) etc.) and i wanted to see some reactions if gn!reader were to put pigtails in their hair heheheh

idk if this is more of headcanons than a drabble but youre the writer so please choose what u think is right T_T

fluff pleaseee >3< thats it!!!! cheers ro!!! laters!!!!

- 🍸 (begging for this emoji pretty pretty please with a huge cherry on top)

hairdresser ᵕ̈ hq boys ( kenma , bokuto , kuroo , sakusa , asahi , yamaguchi , suna ) x gn reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : putting long-haired ⋮⋮ hq boys in pigtails

📋 content ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮 ♡ # 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦 🥛 ♡ # 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴 🥛 ♡ # ~3.4𝘬 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 ♡ # 𝘤𝘸 : 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘳𝘶'𝘴

🧸 directory ‹ ✩ like what you read ? check out more of my blog ! •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii ─ “ hello my new 🍸 anon (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ this idea is SO CUTE tysm for suggesting it . sorry it took a bit but i did both hcs and drabbles , just for you xoxo ”

︴kozume kenma ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘°

he doesn't know why you want to but he lets you anyway

i'd say, in high school at least, he doesn't really put his hair up (obvi since he doesn't do it during matches) because he doesn't know how he feels about how it makes him look in public

but when he's at home he'll def put it up if it's getting in his way of his video games

he actually has hairties strewn about his room, but for some reason they're like all different brands lol

"sometimes i run out and just grab the first one i see getting off the train."

you grab one that's hanging off the corner of his pc

"pfft didn't know you liked kuromi like that"

"oh that... that actually came from a set with a my mel tie..."

so OF COURSE you track down the my melody pair and start to comb through his blonde hair

he plays a game but asks you what his next moves should be in-game now and then to stay engaged with you, as you sit behind him and pigtail his hair

tbh i think his hair would feel dead af from the bleach as you style it but its ok you still love him!!!

"okay, done!" you open up your phone camera and hold it out in front of kenma. he quickly pauses his game and lightly grasps your hand holding the phone as he checks himself out.

"hm... i look ridiculous," he chuckles, "i look like a 5-year-old girl."

"yeah i don't think kuromi and my mel are helping with that, either," you joke. kenma shakes his head around for the two pigtails to swing about his head, the little character charms on the hairties clinking about and making you burst out in laughter. you try to line up your phone to take a picture of him, but he catches you in the act.

he gently swats your arm away and swaps the phone in your hand with his hand in the process, "babe, noo."

"just one? please?" you pry.

he shakes his head and takes your hand up to his lips, kissing it but mumbling out against it a firm...

"no."

"ken."

his eyes are still glued to the screen...

"no."

"with a cherry on top?"

he turns and leaves a quick kiss on your lips, looking into your eyes before whispering...

"no."

despite all his protests, though, rest assured you walked away that night with a new photo in your favorites album: kenma covering his face with his controller with the purple and pink sanrio bunnies holding up two blonde pigtails on the top of his head.

but that was inevitable, he could never resist his baby for too long.

︴bokuto kōtarō ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘°

"anything you want babe!!"

anything to spend time with his favorite person

theres too much fucking gel in his hair so you send him to the bathroom to water it down a bit

he comes out with his hair all wet and dripping and over his eyes screaming

"um, kō... did you even dry your- your hair...? baby it's getting all over the floor"

"oh! oh yeah, sorry about that babe, i'll do that right now for you"

but you see a glint in his pretty golden eyes

the fucking brat

he shakes his head like a dog, hitting you with water and you squeal at him to "go use a towel, idiot!"

nonetheless, once you put him in pigtails, he takes a look at the grey and black sprigs coming out from his head in the reflection of his phone screen and can't help but let out a hearty laugh

"this is great y/n, do another one on me, wouldy'a?"

"wait, really?"

"yes! plus, you like this stuff, right? if you're having fun then make me beautiful, beautiful."

he lets you take a few pictures before you hand him your phone to look for other hairstyles, & he takes the phone with a quick kiss to your lips

he scrolls on your phone trying to find a new hairstyle to have you do as you start undoing the ponytails on his head. his hair dried a bit while the pigtails were in, so you run your hand through his hair and ruffle it up a little bit to get rid of the indent the hairties made.

"oh! what about this one," bokuto beams, holding up a pinterest pin of a manbun, "do you think i got enough hair for you to do it?"

you take your phone back to get a better look at it as bokuto tries to gather up as much of his hair in his two hands and hold it up in an... attempt at a manbun.

you look at him and feel laughter bubble up in your chest, but you manage to make out a, "well we can certainly try, kō."

"really? can we?" he smiles at you. you nod and bokuto dives in to kiss you through your giggling. after a moment, you feel the still-damp ends of his hair fall to brush against your forehead, as his hands go from holding his makeshift manbun up to gently holding the face of his one and only love.

︴kuroo tetsurō ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘°

yeah no this loser definitely has a thing when it comes to people touching his hair

like a DEFENSIVE thing bc no one can convince me it's NOT the longest part of his morning routine

so it takes some convincing but he finally caves bc it's you the love of his life

"fine! but just this once!"

once again, gotta water down the gel

but this time he's like,,, weirdly embarrassed?? and shy?? and cute?? about the fact you're seeing him with his hair wet and undone like this

"baby you cannot tell anyone you saw me like this"

"aww but tetsu you look just as handsome like that"

"ok so we're lying now, i see how it is"

so you sit crossed-legged in front of each other on the floor, and you have him hold the comb and hairties

he sits there all pouty as he has to bend down a bit for you to reach his hair bc he's so tall end me

NO PICTURES!!! the bastard even tries to hide your phone

"tetsu! give it back!" you complain. you've crawled into his lap and yet his arm still holds your phone too high up and out of your reach. "i swear i won't post it anywhere–just one picture, please?"

"absolutely not!" he says through a chuckle. he cranes his neck up and uses your phone to look at his own reflection. he groans at the sight of his spikey locks sticking out from the two pigtails on his head.

"babe," he whines, "this is really messing with my self image."

"yeah right, as if the rest of you isn't literally perfect."

"not true! as long as my hair is concerned right now. but y'know what?" he finally brings your phone back down to his side but holds the side of your face with his free hand.

"what," you deadpan, before trying to quickly grab your phone back. but to your dismay, he holds it out behind his back and out of your reach once again as he continues.

"i'd feel a bit better if i could get a kiss. just a little one," he mumbles with that shit-eating grin you can't help but love, "who knows, maybe i'll feel so much better that i can give your phone back."

"and let me take a picture?" you ask hopefully.

he looks into your eyes and starts to caresses your cheekbone with his thumb, "well... that might depend on how good this kiss goes, yeah?"

least to say you got your photo, and then some other perks while you were at it.

︴sakusa kiyoomi ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘°

"omi, i don't think i've ever seen you with your hair up–"

"i put it up when i have to clean."

"oh right!"

you just never noticed because he wears a little bandana on top of it too cutie pie

but when you ask to put his curls in two little pigtails it takes a little bit of convincing

no one's ever really touched his hair before

he's the biggest sucker for you though so eventually he lets you have your way with him

and surprisingly, he feels so loved having his hair played with by your beautiful self and you just look so cute as you do it and you talk to him about the most generic things that this guy starts to get antsy

like i'm talking hands all over your legs and waist as you're sitting in front of him and as he's starting at you with literal heart eyes

he just needs to hold you you're so adorable to him rn

you can really see his two beauty marks with his hair pulled up and you give them a little kiss when you're finished

"look at him komori," you coo, facing sakusa's phone camera toward him with his cousin on the other end of the line. you had called komori to show off your work, but sakusa couldn't care less as he clings to you now that you're finally finished doing his hair.

"wow cous', this is definitely a new look for you," the brunette giggles through the phone. sakusa tries to hide his face in your neck and groans,

"don't you have anything better to do, motoya? bye."

and with that, sakusa takes hold of your hand and hangs up the call on his phone.

"i quite like it, omi! your cousin agrees with me too," you tease. sakusa can't help but chuckle lightly as his arms wrap around your torso tighter. you can feel the smile creep onto his lips against the skin of your collarbone.

"yeah, whatever. we can do this more often, i guess," he sighs, "the you-playing-with-my-hair thing, not the my-cousin-being-involved thing, mind you."

︴azumane asahi ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘°

omg shut up i will always have a soft spot for this man

ofc since his hair is very much on the long side, he already puts his hair up in a simple ponytail or the occasional manbun from time to time

so yes he agrees to the idea when you bring it up, even if it’s a different style than he’s accustomed to

he didn't think it was gonna be that much of a big deal, after all, he's tied his own hair thousands of times

what he didn’t realize, however, is how different the experience is when you’re the one combing your hands through his hair MMMM

he's absolute putty in your hands shut upppp

deliberately pulls out some strands so you have to sit there and play with his hair longer

"love i think you missed a spot."

"i literally saw you pull that piece out."

he’s between your legs on the floor as you sit on the couch, the volleyball highlights he was watching on his phone still running but now long-forgotten. he uncontrollably tilts his head back with every move you make as you run your hands along his hair, parting it and smoothing it down where necessary.

“‘sahi stop moving,” you giggle. all he can do is hum in bliss as you try to get his hair together amidst him leaning into your touch every other second.

"love, is the first one done yet?" he asks innocently, eyes closed, as if his scheming hasn't costed you an extra 20 minutes or so trying to fix his hair up.

"just keep watching your highlights and keep your head still!" you plea with a hairtie between your teeth, finally managing to gather one half of his hair into a ponytail. and just as you were ready to stretch the hairtie out and make the first loop around the bunch of wavy brown hair that you had in your hand, asahi just so happens to readjust how he's sitting beneath you, making some locks fall out from your grasp.

"asahi!" you let go off the hair and draw out a frustrated sigh. you can hear him chuckle as he leans his head against your thigh, turning his head to look up at you.

his hand is already guiding your dejected one back towards his hair, "oops, sorry angel. i guess you'll have to start all over again."

︴yamaguchi tadashi ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘°

how could he ever say no to you

i think esp senior captain!tadashi started on the habit of tying his hair back for games hot, so he actually does have a few hair ties on hand

but if you use hairties you KNOW he keeps some of yours on his own wrist in case you ever need one (🤭), even if not using them on your own hair like right now

he’s very well behaved as he sits on the toilet seat while you stand in front of him between his legs and get to work

the little piece of hair that sticks out from the top of his head is a pain in the ass tho

every time you think you've successfully smoothed it down, it springs back up again

meanwhile to pass the time, his hands rest on your hips as he asks you about your day, about what shows you’ve been watching recently—anything under the sun

"what happened then? tell me more sweetheart."

in the lulls of your conversation you can feel his thumbs lovingly glide back and forth along your hips im dying i love him

you stand behind yamaguchi in the cramped bathroom, him hunched over the sink as he observes himself and the new look you’ve given him.

you watch him through the mirror as he holds back a smile. his hand reaches about to touch the points at which the tips of his olive hear sprig out from the pigtails of your doing, his stomach peeking out from his worn out white tshirt as it lifts a little at the careful movements he makes.

he finally breaks the silence “yeah… i wouldn’t go out like this anytime soon.”

the two of you can’t help but burst out in laughter, at how ridiculous he looks and the ridiculous way you two have just passed the evening. the sound echoes along the tiled walls of the bathroom.

as your laughter dies down, yamaguchi turns and wraps those same arms that were poking at the pigtails in his hair, around your waist.

he pulls you close, “but they look good, love. maybe just not for me."

you look up at him and he swears he can see a universe of stars in your eyes, "you really think so tada? they were kind of rushed..."

"of course!" he leans his forehead to yours and touches his nose to yours, "maybe we can open a hair salon for you to hone your skills."

his comment makes you giggle, and he can't help but lean in closer to give your smiling lips a quick peck.

︴suna rintarō ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘°

you knew the only way you could achieve getting pigtails on this guy was by ambushing him

"zzz.."

so as he's dozed off on the bed, you slowly maneuver your way behind him

mf's a heavy sleeper so you eventually realize you actually don't have to be super gentle as you pull his hair into two little ponytails

his hair's already parted down the middle so it's pretty easy

goddamn is his hair silky smooth

you gotta ask for what products he uses bc holy shit why's he been gatekeeping them from you

i feel like his hair is long enough that actually they kind of sag down once you put them up in little curves coming out the top of his head like a bunny!!

but just as you're looping the hairtie one more time around the second pigtail, you accidentally pull on it a bit too hard and it quickly snaps against the top of his head ouch lmao

suna groans as he starts to shift and stir awake at the feeling of his head getting bonked. you have to restrain yourself from laughing as he absent-mindedly reaches back to see who it is that woke him up from his nap, hand slowly patting down your side. even through his sleepy haze, he can tell it's you and he lightly hums in contentment before turning around and engulfing you in his arms.

"sorry, rin, i didn't mean to wake you," you whisper.

for a brief moment as he's cuddling into you, he opens an eye to see your face. though you were trying hard to contain them, your laughter starts to escape between your upturned lips and suna's brows furrow in confusion. what's so funny?

he leans back again to find his phone on the bedside table and you watch as he catches a glimpse of his new hairdo before he can check the time.

all you hear is him mumbling something along the lines of, "you're something else," before he's plopping his phone down onto the sheets and he's tucking his head under your chin.

the two pigtails tickle your face like feathers as your ears begin to pick up on the sound of light snores as suna peacefully dozes off once again.

︴oikawa tōru ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘°

i also think he has really silky hair duh but he's definitely shared what products he uses with you

in fact he asks that you use some of the products from his bathroom when you tie his hair

"gotta do these locks justice, baby."

the whole time he's got a little smile on his face, mf is having the time of his life–getting his hair done and being close with the most precious person in the world to him? uhhh YES

he highkey whines about you pulling at his hair tho

"owwiee"

"oh suck it up tōru."

offers to do your hair as well crying

very gentle as he combs through your hair, too!! shit's calming asf, him humming a little tune as you tell him about your day and he lovingly runs his hands through your hair

when he's done doing your hair you take selfies together on his phone

definitely makes one of them his new phone background

pigtails out of yours and oikawa's hair, you're cleaning up the products and hairties scattered across the bedsheets when you accidently brush over the screen of oikawa's phone. the screen lights up with one of the photos you just took with him: you both winking at the camera with pigtails sticking out from the tops of your heads. there's some digital stickers he selected scattered about the photo, as well (a lot of hearts and flowers). he's in another room getting the two of you a snack.

"tōru! can you come over here real quick?"

you hear the pitter-patter of his footsteps as he rushes back to you with chips and drink cans in his hands, "what's up, precious?"

his phone in your hand, you hold it up to him for the screensaver to appear again, "are you serious? did you have to pick this one?"

at that instant he doubles over in laughter, so much so he embraces his arms around your head and falls onto the mattress again, making you both lay down next to each other. he moves his hands to hold your face, "what, why such the long face? you don't like it?"

"no... it's just that everyone who picks up your phone is gonna see it now," you explain, starting to laugh yourself because this boy's laugh is irresistibly contagious.

he leans in to give butterfly kisses to your nose, "yeah, that's kind of the point my love. want everyone to know how happy i am when i'm with you. don't we look so happy in that picture?"

you roll your eyes and reach up to play with his hair again as you two lay there in love, "i guess. but i can't believe you look better in pigtails than i do!"

"i look good a lot of the time," he jokes. his eyes drift down to your lips and after a beat, he presses his lips to yours briefly.

"but not even i can be more beautiful as you are all of the time."

373 notes · View notes

barbieaemond · 9 months ago

Text

The King of Qarth II

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Qartheen f!reader (use of third perspective)

PART 1 | SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

Warnings: mentions of child sexual abuse, mentions of child bride, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, grinding, handjob, knife kink if you squint, self indulgent use of sorcery

Word count: 11k

Author's note: Aemond and the Salt Queen gets to know each other and do some good ol' bonding on shared trauma(s).

English is not my first language.

Taglist: @zae5 @arcielee @multyfangirl @zaldritzosrose @succnfuccubus @kckt88 @venmondiese @mariahossain @miraclealignertlsp369 @ilikechocolatemilkh @credulouskhaleesi @bunbunbl0gs @alphard-hydraes-blog @gemini-mama @freyaniobe @toodlesxcuddles @youngestxhearts @helen06dreamer

“Don’t run from me, kori” he screamed as she ran into the night “Please! Come here!”

He tried to chase her but her feet were faster, barely touching the ground as the nine-year-old girl ran away from the Palace of Dust.

She felt she could run forever, that she could not stop, not until she had forgotten what she had seen. What were those invocations? Why was that woman naked and screaming? Why was her father slaughtering animals on a stone altar and drinking their blood?

“Knowledge comes with a great cost.” was all Fydor repeated when the jarring rumors about what was being done in the House of the Undying reached her young ears and her mother, when the Shadow of the Evening had already stained her father's lips and fingernails blue for good.

“What does it mean, Father? What knowledge?”

“Any kind of knowledge, kori. Everything that was, that is. Everything that could be.”

But she did not want to know. Knowing had cost her her mother. She just wanted to run, but the black-barked trees with blue leaves seemed to envelop her like shadows in flesh, a labyrinth changing its thousand deceiving paths with every step she took.

For a moment she turned, her father was running after her but he was far. Until he wasn't.

She went crashing into him as the other Fydor continued to run behind her. He had done this before, all the Warlocks of Qarth did, appearing in several places at once.

White as a sheet, she watched her father lower himself toward her in that strange embroidered tunic like one who performs a ritual. Even in the darkness of that labyrinthine wood, the blue stood out on his lips and in the sclerae of his eyes.

“You don’t have to be afraid...but why? Why did you come here?”

“I heard the screams.” the little girl said with her lower lip trembling “When is Mother coming back?”

“She won’t, kori. It’s only you and me now.”

It was the first and only time she set foot in the Palace of Dust. Visits to her father were rare, although he longed to see her. Sometimes she could swear she could hear him talking in her head, telling her that the shadows protected her, that he protected her through them. Other times she would give in and invite him to the Palace of Salt, almost glad to see him but not quite.

There were always two opposite grooves in her lips when she looked at him. He was the man who avenged her and lost his tongue for it; he was the man who drove her mother to flee, abandoning their daughter.

She felt like that right now as she walked away, as she ran away from him, just like when she was nine. She could hear him echoing in her eardrums, as she left the courtyard with Prince Aemond, with the voice of the past, as if he had regrown his tongue.

“What did he say?”

“Trees wail…leaves are bleeding…” she hears, not the Prince speaking.

Aemond pulls her arm and feels her tensing at his touch, blinking at him as if she wasn’t there up until now. “What?”

“Your father. What did he say before we left?”

"Nothing of your concern.” She says lightly and resumes her walk. He stands still for a moment, sure, as he is sure of the noble blood in his veins, that whatever the warlock said through his hands, did concern him.

Unfortunately, he’s forced to set that thought aside as they leave the Palace; Aemond halts his stride, narrowing his eye at the strange wheelhouse waiting before him. A wheelhouse without wheels, and not even a carriage; more like a bed waiting to be moved, with veils and curtains on each of the four sides. A palanquin, he recalls the word from some book he read. This is how aristocracy moved in the East.

He turns his head as air shifts behind him, and a moment later he’s almost growling at one of the Sorrowful Men, bold enough to lay hands on him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The Salt Queen rolls her eyes and walks to him. “Leave it. I’ll deal with the Prince. He’s already accustomed to having my hands on him, am I right?” she says with a tight, luscious smile, and oddly enough, but perhaps not so much, he doesn’t flinch as she starts to search his blue silks for any weapon.

Her hand slips beneath the soft fabric, gliding on his bare skin, chest and ribs, and she stares at him deliberately, just like him. “Perhaps your Highness just couldn’t wait to get her hands on me again.” he retorts with the ghost of an obnoxious grin.

She says nothing, staring at him as she searches his waist and then through the blue folds underneath. “Ah.” she tuts at one point, slowly drawing his faithful dagger. “And here I thought you were just pleased to see me. You won’t need this.” she says, keeping the blade. “Unlike you, I don’t bite. Unless asked of course.”

He hears the stretch on the word asked and nods slowly, plastering a fake, chastened frown. “I see. My deepest apologies. I didn’t think I had to ask since you have been throwing yourself at me at every corner. Speaking of which, your husband seemed quite proud of your performance earlier at breakfast. Will you be rewarded for your noble services?”

She only blinks at his vitriolic remark, but there is not a trace of outrage on her face. “Someone might say it is not wise to insult someone, especially a woman, when she is armed.”

“Why, do you know how to use that?” he asks, lowering his gaze and tilting his chin to point at the blade.

“No, but how difficult could it be considering how little it takes me to get you to let your guard down? Just like any man, I might add.”

He has no time to bite back, annoyingly moving his jaw at being deemed an ordinary man who crumples at a woman’s touch, while she turns her back and moves the curtains aside to enter the palanquin.

Aemond follows and finds himself cursing internally as he tries to adjust inside that odd, restricted transport. He wouldn’t even call it that. It’s nothing but a mattress with soft cushions on it.

Were Qartheens accustomed to doing everything lying on those damn cushions?

He might just sit, but he is too tall, and the canopy of the litter is too low, greeting his head with a slight bump. The Queen stifles a smile, already settled on the cushions with her legs tucked under her, and she watches him sigh deeply, resigning himself with clear annoyance to lie down on the cushions, holding onto one elbow.

Aemond tries to look at ease, not bothered by the woman and how much she's close to him, as close as if they were to confide a secret to each other, and just as he thinks he has settled down, the Sorrowful Men are lifting the litter, and he is jolted forward, slightly on top of her.

She lifts her arm to hold him by the shoulder, and in that split second, Aemond ties his hand around her arm to keep his weight off her. She tenses, just as before, just as she did the night before in his room. To her misfortune, she is now the one who suffers from too much proximity, or rather, a total lack of space. She feels the long single braid dangling on her, tickling her chest. She can see the specks of blue in his iris, the small cleft on the tip of his nose, the way that vicious mouth flaunts a perfect shape.

If only she could actually read minds, she would know that that last thought mirrors in his head.

He shouldn't care, he shouldn't even linger on that thought. This woman has done nothing but trample on his pride, has done nothing but mocking and taunting, and she seems quite adamant on keeping doing so. But perhaps it's because her mouth is close now, and for once silent, slightly open; an offering hiding a thousand more. And he had not taken it. In the throes of rage and pleasure, he had not kissed her. And he wishes. He wishes to know. Would she taste sweet? Tart?

Would she taste like salt?

The thought slips to the back of his mind as she clears her throat and straightens up, forcing him to distance himself, although they are still uncomfortably close. With one hand she knocks twice against the canopy, and the Sorrowful Men start walking.

Aemond leans better on his elbow to curb the swaying of the litter, and sighs glancing at the woman beside him. “Never heard of horses in this part of the world?”

“Horses barely survive in the desert, ask any Dothraki. Besides, what you Westerners do with those poor beasts is barbaric.”

His eyebrow is raising, ready to rebut, but as he opens his mouth, she offers him a small plate full of dates and dried figs. He moves his hand to dismiss it, causing her to frown. “Do you ever eat?” she takes one fig between her fingers and bites. “You should try one. Perhaps it’d make you less…bitter all the time.”

He glares at her but in doing so, he stumbles upon her mouth and the saccharine juice pasting her lips. She reads this as if he is reconsidering, so she stretches the half-bitten fig, and given their closeness, it takes her little to bring it to his mouth.

Aemond tilts his head back to decline and sighs. "Do you always think about eating here?"

"God no, we have much more pleasant pastimes." she says, chewing the other half of the fruit. "Would you like to hear about some of them?"

Aemond is not looking at the woman, and yet he can feel her luscious smile like something vivid, prickling his skin. "I can imagine."

"Can you? It doesn't seem so."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, perhaps our intimate encounter misleads me, but...you seem that kind of man who fucks his wife only on all fours, to feel in power and all those manly excuses."

"I am not." he hisses.

"Really?” She tilts her head curiously and looks at him closely. “Ever let her be on top? Ever been tied up? Blindfolded?"

He looks away at that, scoffing. "So, it's either eat or fuck."

Aegon would have thrived here, he thinks dimly.

"Fine. What should we talk about then?"

"Why do we have to?"

"The war? I, for instance, think it's only your father's fault. He wanted a son, right? And he had three. People unfit to take a decision should not be allowed to rule, if you ask me. On the other hand, though, what your mother did upon his death—"

"Keep my mother out of your mouth."

She hears the threat in the hissing way the words come out of his mouth, so she hushes, and turns her head toward the bustle of the city blurred by the veils and curtains of the litter. “Silence it is.”

And silently, he thanks the Gods for a moment of peace, free of this constant enquiring and teasing. That same silence though, only makes him think of Alicent. Is she still in chains? Is she wondering about him day and night or did she choose to banish him from her mind as he banished her?

Perhaps now that he is in a rather civil city, he could send word to her? Let her know he’s alive and that he was…what was he doing here?

But even if he did know, he could not trust any of these people.

“What is exactly your husband’s plan now?”

“What do you think? You promised them dragon eggs. They won’t let you go until they have their little lizards to play with.”

Aemond scoffs, glancing distractedly beyond the curtains “Do you think you can fool me? Speaking of them as if you are not into it as well.”

“I am not. We may have different customs, but even here women are pawns in the hands of men. Men choose what we shall do, who we shall marry…how they shall fuck us.” He drags his eye back on her at this, watching her as she adds “But I have no interest in keeping you here, or having a creature spitting fire as a pet. I prefer cats, if you must know, or snakes.”

“I see. So, you just follow his orders? He tells you to fuck whoever is housed under your roof, and you obey?”

“I fuck who I wish to. And if you don’t want to taste how sharp your dagger is, you might want to stop addressing me as a whore.”

“Who you wish?”

“Yes.” She catches a glimpse of his eyebrow raising in a rather boastful way and looks away, huffing. “Quit it, dragon prince. You might be handsome, but it wasn’t that special.”

“Why? It was hard to tell in the midst of all that begging.”

“Because I don’t like to feel like I’m ten again.”

The smug expression on Aemond's face disappears as quickly as the Salt Queen speaks those words, wrinkling his forehead as he grasps their meaning. But she looks at him with a passive face, and she speaks of this person, herself, and yet another, with the distant tone with which one speaks of the dead.

“I was raped when I was ten. Bent over my small table while I was painting seashells.”

Aemond looks genuinely startled, and why wouldn’t he? He is not sure he can trust this woman’s word, but something in the back of his mind, namely the way she was tensing like steel as he took her from behind, tells him she’s speaking the truth. After all, it seems her tongue is made of nothing else.

“Don’t look at me like that.” she says “I’m not telling you to make you say you’re sorry. Everyone knows. There is no such thing as secrets here. It helps the trades, makes for more honest negotiations.”

The litter stalls as Aemond barely registers they must have reached the walls, but he doesn’t move, staring at the woman, cautiously, enquiringly, as something unfolding right before him.

“And what are we trading?”

She was starting to move to get out of the palanquin, but she halts at his question, raking his half-lying figure with her eyes, the long slender hands laced together on his abdomen, the little smooth portion of chest peeking from the blue silks. “It depends on what you are offering…”

They share a long earnest look, unwavering on both parts, until the curtains are moved. “Your Highness, we have reached the walls.”

The woman blinks and takes a light breath. “Let’s go, shall we? Before your lizard starts chewing the walls.”

She barely moves and he’s seizing her wrist, drawing her eyes back on him instantly. The Queen witnesses something new curling his features, cracking his mouth open and then shutting it back—a reluctance, almost a regret that does not settle well on that ever-so-strict face; it seems unwanted, rejected, and yet it keeps coming back, twitching his mouth twice. “Had I known…I would’ve behaved differently.” He says staring down, whereas she stares right down at him, at the grimace twisting his lips, as if tasting salt. “I know how it is…to feel—”

“Powerless?”

In more ways than one.

He doesn’t utter the words, but the way his eye pierces through her is nothing but a confession.

“You could have stopped me.”

“Yes, I could. That’s what troubles me.” She says in a hushed tone, and now she’s the one staring down, grimacing. “I didn’t want to.”

Being a dragonrider, one might think Aemond should be used to deal with strange creatures. And yet, his brow is furrowing steeply as soon as they’re out of the city walls. There are some men waiting for them, common men dressed in dark robes, acting as keepers for a four-legged animal that Aemond has never seen in his life. A camel.

The Salt Queen fakes a frown upon reading the confusion on his face and says “Surely you didn’t think we would walk in the desert.”

“Because it’s hot or because it goes against all the lying around you do here?”

She bursts into a short laugh, drawing his eye to her, and says “It seems you have found your humor. I’m glad. I like men who can make me laugh.”

It was not really his intention, rather a mere observation, but he says nothing, lingering for a moment on her lips curved up, before returning to look at the creature before him, slowly ruminating something as it stares at him with two dark, waning eyes.

“I don’t know how to ride this—thing.”

“Ah, it’s a bit tricky. You see,” she goes to stand right beside him, leaning against him so that he feels her bare shoulders against his arm, and as she gestures towards the camel, she says “You have to get on it and keep yourself balanced on the hump with one knee. Very dangerous, I must warn you. Most men die by merely trying.”

She turns to look at him with her lips cracking in amusement, but as she sees the earnest, not at all amused, face he’s wearing, she sighs deeply. “And it’s lost again.”

“It’s just a bit slower than a horse.” She explains taking a step away as one of the Sorrowful men hands her some blue fabric, like a scarf. Aemond sees her handing one to him and she speaks before he asks about it. “For your skin. To shield you from the sun if you don’t want to peel your face off because of burn blisters.”

He grabs the cloth, unfolding it between his hands as, out of the corner of his eye, he sees the Queen wrap her own around her head, leaving only a crevice for her eyes. He tries to mimic her gestures, but his braid gets stuck, so she walks to him raising her hands, and without a word she helps him, wrapping his head and face in blue.

“Come. Since it’s your first time, you’ll ride with me.”

Then, she moves towards the camel, while the armed men will follow on foot, dragging the cart of dead pigs and goats. With silent relief on his part, Aemond finds out that it seems even easier than riding a horse. At first.

The camel kneels on the sand on his four legs, and Salt Queen straddles it, sitting in the saddle. She swings each leg on both sides of the creature, her silks gliding like water, effectively baring her skin from the ankles to her thighs; she makes room for him, turning her head to beckon him to sit behind her and, inevitably, she sees him staring down at her bare legs. “So, you found something else to stare at other than my breast. Good.”

Aemond looks up and then away, moving to get this over with. He sits on the saddle, behind the woman, their bodies barely touching, at first. As she grabs the reins, she slightly turns her head saying “Follow my lead.”

She pulls at the reins and since camels stand up with their back legs first, Aemond is jolted forward, colliding against the Salt Queen who promptly instructs him. “Lean back…”

He does so, and she does too, resting her shoulders against his chest. “And now forward.” She adds when the animal gets onto its front legs. Aemond lurches forward, and having no handhold, he grips her left side not to crash his body on her.

“Pigaí.” She says in Qartheen and, slowly, the camel starts walking. Aemond briefly looks behind, watching the Sorrowful Men move accordingly, four of them dragging a wooden cart full of carcasses, but soon he finds himself too occupied with keeping balance to spare a glance behind.

A camel’s walk is nothing like the gait of a horse. It’s odd, irregular, jerky; it keeps jolting him backward and then forward, each time forcing him to bump against her back, to hold onto her, sometimes her arm, sometimes her hip, her thigh even, like a toddler who's just learning to walk.

Hearing his short and clearly annoyed sighs, the Queen smiles behind the tajel, keeping her gaze fixed on the dunes at the horizon, and softly shakes her head. “Always so rigid…”

“What” he asks without even intoning the question, because the camel and this hiccup-like swinging is getting on his nerves, not to mention the heat, sticking the silks on him, or the woman's body which, for all the right reasons but rather inconvenient under the circumstances, is making his blood flow down too fast.

“You are too rigid.” She says, slightly raising her tone. “You have nothing to prove to this poor beast, or me.”

She takes his hand that he held like an iron clamp on her side and turns her head a little, enough to catch his eye. "Let yourself sway, don't fight it."

Keeping his eye on her, his grip lessens, just as all the stiffness in his body. She feels him sway, brushing naturally against her without tensing every time their bodies touched. And yet her throat stiffens as he keeps swinging against her, and she’s glad she’s giving her back and wearing a tajel, so he cannot see her lips parting as air hitches in her mouth.

The camel’s hooves avoid human and animal remains in what is nothing but a Garden of Bones; the sun is scorching, the air so humid, heavy, it feels like cotton when swallowing. But fortunately for them, she is not late to come into view amid those white dunes.

"By all the Gods..." The Queen cries out in disbelief, widening her eyes as she sees a huge black spot in the middle of the yellowish-white desert; a mountain, of flesh and fire.

The camel must sense her agitation, or perhaps he’s wise enough to know what he is up against. He starts to flail, to paw, and the Queen is forced to pull on the reins, unbalanced back and forth. Aemond holds her by the arms with his eye strained on Vhagar, but the quadruped seems to have no intention of staying there a minute longer.

He screeches to the point that both Aemond and the Queen are thrown from the saddle, landing on the sand, one on top of the other. The camel flees, despite one of the Sorrowful Men attempts to catch him.

That little cackle, however, awakens the dragon, or perhaps she simply sensed her rider. Vhagar raises her huge head from the cat-like crouched position she was in, her amber eyes wide as well as her giant wings. Aemond is barely in time to stand and help the woman do the same when the earth beneath them shakes as if in an earthquake.

The Queen of Salt whitens like a sheet as she sees that terrifying beast advancing from a distance, a distance that drastically runs out because each stride of the dragon covers miles.

She freezes on the spot, her mouth wide open, because the dragon keeps advancing, and for a moment she seriously thinks she is breathing the last breaths of her life.

Aemond shields her with his body, and Vhagar stops, opening her mouth wide and roaring so loudly that the queen has to cover her ears. Even Aemond scrunches his face under the scorching gust that sweeps over him, so scorching that the glimmer of flames ignites at the back of her jaws. She's not happy to see him. Or rather, she's not happy about being abandoned to starve in the desert, even for one day. Ageing makes even beasts more irritable.

“Lykirī, Vhagar!” the Prince shouts “Lykirī!”

But she does not listen, not immediately at least. She continues to roar, intent on voicing her disappointment. Then, finally, she closes her jaws. The Queen looks at her with wide eyes, her chest rising and falling quickly, her hands laced firmly around Aemond's arms. Vhagar lowers her head toward him, still showing her fangs, and flares her nostrils, smelling something, someone, foreign.

“What is she doing?” the Queen asks in a whisper.

“Hush.”

She tilts her head back, looking at him from behind and still whispering, says “Need I remind you my father is a warlock? If your dragon eats me, I will come back to haunt you.”

He doesn’t bother to retort, even more so because Vhagar makes a sudden movement, turning her head sharply as her nostrils smell what she has been craving for too long. Aemond follows her gaze, barely having the time to register the Sorrowful Men on the right, at a good distance but not far enough for a starving dragon.

“Get away from there!” the Prince warns them “Move!”

As soon as that last word leaves his mouth, Vhagar moves with impressive speed, given her size and age, but hunger quickens her limbs. Her head sinks on the cart as the armed men scurry away without logic, raising a cloud of dust and sand as her fangs pierce wood, flesh and bone.

She perches on the sand to enjoy her much-needed meal, which disappears by the second under the gaze of Aemond and the Salt Queen, still pale as a sheet and stunned by what she's witnessing, flinching every time she hears jaws snapping and bones cracking.

“Where are you going?” she asks as Aemond tries to take one step.

He turns, glancing at her hand gripping his arm, and looks at her for a moment before raising his eyebrow “Scared, are we?”

She gives him a flat look as if he has just informed her that the sky is blue. “Self-awareness is not cowardice.”

Aemond moves, circling the beast, and the woman dims it wisely to never leave his side, keeping a constant eye on the beast, unaware she’s still gripping his arm as she moves. The Prince stops somewhere near Vhagar’s left wing and the Queen watches as he seems to inspect it closely. Out of curiosity, she does the same, spotting a large wound toward the right end, healed but not quite. Aemond places one hand on the scales but as soon as he does that, Vhagar turns her head sharply, blood coating her jaws and fangs, and growls, clearly still annoyed with him or maybe just unhappy to be bothered during her meal.

“She’s just like you, isn’t she?” the Queen remarks “Sour and petty.”

Aemond ignores her, taking a step back, momentarily resigning not to tend to his dragon, as long as she’s in that mood. “Perhaps you could stop gripping me so hard now.” he says at one point, feeling the Queen’s nails digging through the silk.

She looks lost for a moment, and then withdraws her hand, looking away. She finds though that all she can look at is Vhagar, her giant dimension blocks her view entirely.

“How did you manage to tame such a monster?” she asks at some point, eyes full of dread, and yet wonder.

“She is not a monster.”

“No, of course not. She’s as sweet as a kitten.”

She observes the beast, her green and bronze scales, battered in several spots and frowns. “Correct me if I’m wrong, and I rarely am, did not dragons take decades to grow? She seems very old and you...” pausing, her eyes scan him from head to toe “you don’t look older than twenty-five?”

Aemond keeps his gaze fixed on Vhagar as he answers, that empty egg made of nothing but stone lost somewhere in the back of his mind. "My egg didn’t hatch. I claimed her when I was ten.”

"Ten?” she asks, disbelief and awe running together on her tongue.

He turns his head and tilts his chin down, and then up, as only pride can do. "Ten.”

She looks at him, not able to hide a righteous gleam of admiration, but then she’s crinkling her forehead, in that peculiar way of hers.

"Was it worth it?” she asks, upon acknowledging that new piece.

"What?”

"The exchange. Was it fair? Your eye for a dragon.”

Do not mourn me, Mother. His mouth twitches as he remembers, almost relives it. It has been years and yet, he can almost feel the right side of his head numbed with too much pain, the stench of his own dead flesh. The needle going in and out but not actually stitching anything back together.

“How did it happen?” she asks, and her tone is different now. That constant veil of mocking in the way she phrases her questions is nowhere to be found.

“Do you want me to believe you don’t know yet?”

"I told you twice. I cannot control this…power, it comes and goes. I must admit though, it is coming quite often in the last few days…I wonder why…”

Aemond looks at her, sees her search on him a mystery to which he has no answers in the first place. He learned this from Alys.

Magic repels answers, it must live and thrive on mystery.

On chaos, you mean.

And what’s the difference? That’s what you really yearn for. Chaos.

He sighs to cast her out, and says “My nephew took it with a knife.”

"And you killed him. This is why they call you Kinslayer, is it not?”

She cannot see his expression behind the tajel, only his good eye, still, cold and unwavering, like a star, and beautiful in the most cruel way.

"We may have shared blood but he meant nothing to me. And he got what he deserved.” he said, trying a flat empty tone, but she hears the edges quivering, crumpling, like salt eroding rocks.

"And what about that boy? Did he get what he deserved?”

"What boy?”

"The ten year old you.” His eye seems to glow with new light at her words, like the sun catching the flashing steel of a blade, and even with the blue scarf hiding his face, she knows his teeth are grinding. "I was never one for revenge.” She concedes, turning her head to the desert. "It may be the sweetest morsel, but somehow it never leaves you sated.”

"It sounds like you have tasted it.”

"Yes.” She admits, turning to look at him. "But it’s stuck in my throat.”

Aemond doesn’t need to ask, because as she said, there are no secrets in Qarth.

"You must have wondered why my father cannot speak.” she tells him, looking away, dredging up from her mind, from her memories, traces of a child who is no more. “There’s an ancient tradition here, when a wedding takes place. It’s called the sacred exchange. The bride and the groom can ask each other for one favor, anything, and they cannot refuse.” She returns her gaze to him, and says “My husband asked for my father’s tongue as my sacred gift.”

“Was it him?”

"No, not him…the night before our wedding, Irryo, Xavos’ brother, came into my room to give me his wedding gift. The purest silk I’ve ever seen. He made me wear it, stripped me bare with his own hands…said he wanted to see how I looked...”

She doesn’t need to utter the words. Aemond sees a little girl, a child, painting seashells, unfinished, falling from the table in a clatter of tinkles and choked cries.

"The wedding took place in a hurry an hour later. I said my vows with my silks still stained with blood. They were scared of my father’s wrath, you see. But it came anyway. Irryo died during the wedding feast. His eyes burst into his skull.”

“Your father’s doing.”

“Perhaps." she shrugs "I didn’t know what to make of it at the time, as I don’t know what to make of it now. I didn’t ask him to avenge me. All I wanted was for him, anyone, to say they were sorry for what had been done to me.”

Did he not want the same?

Apart from punishment, and then revenge, did he not want just one word of kindness from his father? Some sort of regret from Lucerys?

She feels his eye on her, even if he’s not really looking at her, perhaps at some ghosts locked in his mind, so she glances at Vhagar, quite contented after her meals and currently resting on the sand. “We should go back to the Palace before it gets too hot out here. I will give orders to save more dead beasts for your dragon.”

The journey back to the walls is a silent one. It spreads, silence, like an oil stain as they climb back onto the litter; each of them has caught something of the other, something similar, different cracks etched with the same cruelty, and matching.

Their gazes match, as they remove the tajel from their heads, as she hands him some water. She looks around distractedly, but the curtains are closed and even if they weren’t, the sound of water rushing down his throat brings her eyes on him, and then closely, she watches his tongue flicking outside for a moment, she watches a drop of water running down his chin. And wishes to lick it off with her tongue.

Somehow, it’s like he can hear what she’s thinking, locking his eye on her. They don’t speak, it’s almost as if both of them are waiting for something.

"Your braid needs to be redone." She says at one point, and he turns, not looking at her face, not at first. She sees his eye trailing slowly over her until he speaks.

"Is that your offering?"

Closely, she rakes her eyes on his chiseled features, and she is not even aware she is imperceptibly leaning closer. A moth to a flame, they say. But she has always been the flame. And now, she finds she’s the one willing to bathe in the light, or burn.

“If you wish."

It comes out like a whisper, drawing his eye on her lips, unearthing that same desire from earlier, the thirst to know what she tastes like. "What If I wish for something more?"

“Such as?" she asks, raising one hand to touch his braid and undo it, smoothly, as if she had done this countless times before.

"Don't be shy now. Everything is a trade in Qarth. Even pleasure."

Swiftly, he clamps his hand around her wrist, stopping her, drawing a slight wince beneath her skin.

"Pleasure is not something to be traded.” He says, and it’s the flame now that is moving. “Only taken."

The short intake of air she breathes on his mouth is a seal. His lips meet hers abruptly, they part instantly and ravenously, like a starved man tasting a morsel, and then loosening to taste it, to taste her. Perhaps it’s desert, perhaps it’s herself, but she does taste like salt. She’s bitter on his tongue, in his nostrils; she muffles his ears until he hears only her sweet sighing in his mouth as he slips his tongue inside.

And he wants more of that, just as she wants more. He feels her unfolding beneath him as he towers over her, so differently from the previous night. She’s not tense. She’s loose like water, he feels her seeping in everywhere, around his neck and shoulders, in his mouth when her tongue darts in, in his blood when she softly rubs against him. His breathing becomes heavy, from lack of air, from hardening, and maybe he shouldn't, maybe this isn't really the right place. They could wait until they get back to the palace, but then she lies back on the pillows and reclines her head, offering her neck. Without thinking, he lowers himself down on her, in fact lying on her, and she instantly makes room for him by spreading her legs wide.

She gasps softly as he trails wet kisses on her neck, growing greedy as he travels down, to what he’s been secretly coveting since the first time he unapologetically landed his sight on.

Cupping her bare breast with his large hand, he holds it firmly, humming pleasurably as he takes the hard nipple into his mouth. Accordingly, she bucks her hips against him, feeling his hardening tease her center through that thin layer of silk. Between that and the swirling of his tongue, hot and wet around her nipple, she is panting, spreading her legs wide to cage his hips and push him against her, desperate for more friction.

Despite his ache for the same and more, he glances up, still torturing her nipple, hard and slick at this point, watching her as he grazes his teeth over that darker spot of skin, forcing a choked, loud whimper to escape her mouth.

“Careful, your Highness” he teases “lest you want to give your peasants a show.”

“What do you think these curtains are for?”

“You want me to fuck you here? Now?” he asks with a playful scorn in his voice, but she can hear his breath creaking, his tone lower and throatily.

She raises from the cushions, holding on one hand while the other slips between them, hovering on his groin, brushing feathery. “I believe you want to.” She breathes on his lips, parting as soon as he rocks his waist to catch her palm.

“We could wait to be in the Palace but…” she takes his hand and brings it between her legs, on that thin layer of silk, damp again his knuckles. “Would you be so cruel and leave me like this, for so long?”

He swallows something close to a growl upon feeling how wet she is for him, how her cheeks are barely flushed as she exhales heavily, her face scrunched lustfully for the little, shallow pleasure she finds from his fingertips.

Curtains or no curtains, Aemond is deaf and blind to anything else around him. With his fingers, he moves the fabric and twists his wrist, so that his palm is straight against her pulsing core. She sighs hoarsely as her wetness coats his hand, arching just as slightly, goading him to do more. She has been watching and coveting his fingers once too many times, the thought alone of having them inside her crumples her face in a pleading way, and she has no shame in voicing it. “Please, Aemond…”

Upon hearing his name, spoken in that exotic and alluring way, he bares his teeth and harshly slips not one, but two of his slender fingers inside, watching her tilt her head back, her mouth open and out of breath, but she’s looking at him and she’s quick to regain air, barely curving her lips up. “So you do know how to use your hands…”

“You never shut up, do you?”

“Well, make me.”

His cock twitches on its own at her words, and he kisses her, roughly, flexing his hand to start pumping his fingers in. She moans loudly on his tongue, lacing an arm around his neck, still holding herself onto the cushions with her other hand, angling her back so he can reach that special spot more easily.

“Oh God—yes---” she moans when he does, rocking her hips to meet his deft fingers in a sweet lewd sound that muffles any other coming from the fuss outside that litter. Her breath grows short and labored, mewling obscenely every time he curls his fingers, his gaze on her fixed and focused like on some holy mission.

He desperately wants to bury himself inside her, right there; he’s almost thankful for the much more loose clothes they wear here instead of the constricting breeches he was used to, even though he feels his flesh on fire, and he’s practically panting on her pleasure; his own is of no concern to him right now, not when she’s so close, not when he can watch a little more of her face distorting with wanton abandon, her neck lumped with sweat, the way her breast swings with her motions.

But she, on the other hand, seems eager to end this torture, and start another. The tensed muscle in her arm gives away, making her back fall on the cushions once more, but the other is still tied around his neck, so she drags him down with her and then she’s rummaging through the blue silks, eager to free his length, but he grips her wrist and holds it firmly above her head. “No…I have a score to settle with you.”

“What? You proved quite enough you know how to use your hands.” She says breathlessly, cracking half a smile “I swear on all the Gods, yours and mine, I won’t doubt you again.”

Aemond is just about to retort but suddenly the palanquin stops, and they are abruptly brought back to the reality just outside those curtains. They hear a male voice and he looks enquiringly at the Salt Queen who visibly rolls her eyes and says something in Qartheen which, given her tone, Aemond is sure is some kind of curse.

She fumbles with her thin gowns, covering her nudity while he takes some distance, returning to lean on one elbow with once more clear annoyance, this time much more justified. And once more, he’s thankful for the loose silks, able to hide his otherwise plain arousal.

The Queen sighs deeply, to keep herself together, to stop the ringing in her ears and the aching stir below her navel; then she opens the curtains and smiles warmly. “Syradhor! I thought I recognized your voice.”

The man in yellow silks, with several sapphires embroidered in the fabric and worn on his fingers, bows for a moment saying, “Your Highness.” He takes her hand that she promptly offers and lightly kisses her knuckles, trailing his eyes on her with two eyes blind with admiration. “Any man who finds himself in the presence of such beauty can count himself as the luckiest in the world. What a blessing for me to be granted such fortune once more.”

Aemond is staring at the man, unimpressed, doing all he can not to scoff at the love sonnet-like speech, and a rather dull one. “Prince Aemond. A pleasure to see you again.”

Aemond recalls the man as one of the Merchant Kings who greeted him at the walls two days prior, but his face is all he remembers. “Which one is this?” he deadpans to the Salt Queen, evidently not happy to have been interrupted. She hears the annoyance in his voice and stifles a smile saying “This is Syradhor, the Ore King.”

The Prince barely tilts his chin down to greet him and the man in yellow takes a step forward, addressing the Queen. “Your Highness, since you are here, I am gladly extending my invitation to you as well.”

“Extending?” she asks.

“I—Yes, I was expecting Prince Aemond today, to formally receive him in my Palace.”

“Were you?” he drawls.

The honeyed benevolence leaves the man's face like a summer storm, because that's the way he is, as eager to please as he is quick to anger. “What is meaning of this? Did Xavos not inform you?”

“Of course.” Of course not, is what she means to say. But before she can utter another word, Aemond speaks. “Well, I’m afraid we have to delay this formal reception.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Syradhor.” The Queen steps in “you must understand, the Prince is new to our customs. He’s not aware of our welcoming traditions. As it happens, that was precisely what the Prince and I were discussing before you interrupted us.”

“Were we?” he says lifting his eyebrow.

She flashes daggers at him and continues with a broad smile. “I told him not to delay his visit to your Palace, for if ever a foreigner refused to visit one of the Thirteen—" she looks directly at Aemond, informing him at that very moment. “It would be considered the highest of insults.”

Aemond looks at her, unblinking, before sighing deeply, and deciding to play along. “Yes, I do recall now. Her Highness was quite vocal on the matter.”

She keeps smiling, for reasons entirely different from what the Ore King might think, and then he raises one hand towards the crowded street. “Please. My Palace is just around the corner.”

Aemond comes out of the litter, being careful to let the silks fall over all the right places.

“I hope you have a good time, my Prince.”

He whirls his head watching the Salt Queen stay still on the cushions and the Ore King looks just as stunned. “Will you not delight my Palace with your presence?”

“I am afraid I can’t, Syrhador. I was just asking the Prince for advice on some urgent matters I desperately need to attend to.” She pointedly looks at Aemond with a ghosting smile and then she shrugs, lightheartedly. “I suppose I shall take those urgent matters into my own hands.”

Her words and what they mean, stir something within him, more annoyance at the mere thought of wasting time with this little man —his shoulder reaches just above Aemond’s ribs— when he could be fucking her senseless on that litter, on his bed, hers, he’s not picky at this point. And more giddiness, making his blood boil at mere thought of her chasing her pleasure with her own hands.

But then she’s shutting him out, shutting the curtains, and ordering her men to move.

The sky is of a delicious pink-red shade when he returns to the Palace of Salt.

Four hours, that was the torment he had to endure in the presence of Syradhor and his family. Four hours in which he barely opened his mouth, and when he did, all that came out were monosyllables uttered from time to time in a manner closer and closer to snarling.

The Ore King had embarked on a soliloquy about alum, a precious mineral useful as mordant for dyeing wool, embalming animals and human bodies, and making wood fireproof. It would’ve been interesting for a former scholar as Aemond was, but it was difficult to think straight amid the chattering, duck-like squawking of Syradhor’s daughters, and even more difficult when he had brought the cup of wine to his mouth and sensed her intimate sweet-tart smell stuck on his fingers, awakening all the wrong thoughts.

In the end, he was so sick of the whole affair that he had curtly refused to be escorted to the palace of Xavos on another litter, and the Ore King had sent four of his guards to walk with him, along the streets of Qarth.

His spirits when he crosses the threshold of the Palace of Salt are at an all-time low. If only he didn't have to face another litter trip lying on cushions after spending four hours sitting on those same fucking cushions, he'd go straight to Vhagar. He's always been a solitary creature, just like her, and all these talks and pleasantries, fake or true, were like pouring a barrel of water into a narrow vase. He was toppling over.

Surprisingly though, as soon as he sets foot in his chambers, his foul spirits seem to instantly improve as he finds his room lit with candles, and not at all empty. The Salt Queen is sitting comfortably in an armchair, with her legs dangling graciously over the left armrest; a little book is clutched in her hold.

“My Prince.” She greets him as he lingers on the door, lifting her gaze from her reading.

Aemond closes the door, never tearing his gaze off her. It betrays nothing, only the faint irritation for the four hours wasted, but not the way his lungs swell upon seeing her.

“Did your Grace have fun?” she asks with sheer curiosity, closing the book with a light thud.

“Fun?” he repeats, as if she had just suggested she had proof unicorns from Skagos were real.

“Surely it was not that bad? I mean, yes, Syradhor is boring and yes, he has that annoying habit of touching you as he talks, but he has a great collection of wines. I should have told you. There’s no other way to survive him.”

“He has a litter of daughters” Aemond sneers, walking to her “each of them duller than the other.”

“Well, that happens when you fuck your relatives. You, above all, should know that.”

He looks at her questioningly and she leans forward to place the book on a little table, the soft fabric of her lilac gowns slips on her skin just as his eye slips on her bare thighs, glowing as gold under the candlelight. “His wife is his niece.” She says, looking up and catching his staring.

His eye trails slowly over her until locking her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“You forgot this.” She says, raising her hand with his dagger held between her fingers.

Aemond stops before her, raising an eyebrow as he looks down at her “You were waiting for me, to give me back my dagger?”

She takes a good amount of time, while looking at him, feeling his eye, darkened due to the dim light and boring into her, to utter a simple “No."

“Then why?”

She rises, handing the blade, and says “I believe we had a score to settle.”

Aemond takes the blade from her hands, nodding slowly, and then circles her to go sit where she was a moment ago, placing the blade on the armrest, along with his hands. “And what was it?” he asks with a faint smirk. If she’s keen on playing games, he will let her play this one. “Somehow, it’s eluding me now.”

She watches him cross his long legs, tilting his head as he awaits, and she says “Your braid needs to be redone.”

“Hmm.” Aemond looks around, almost amused, and sees his bed, not exactly in order as it was when he left, but slightly crumpled.

Did she lie on his bed? Did she touch herself and peak, writhing on his sheets? The thought alone tickles his spine, but still, he betrays nothing, only the faint tapping of his fingers against the armrest. “You’ve been here all this time to give me back my dagger and redo my hair.”

She watches his fingers moving and she’s moving. She would like to take his hand and pick up where they left off, but she just sits on his lap, forcing him to uncross his legs, and spread them a little to make her room. “I deeply cherish my guests and their welfare under my roof.” She jests, although it’s partially true.

The only difference is that she never spent hours waiting for one of her guests, or any man, nor fantasizing about all the ways that man could take her, not as fervently as she did as her hand moved relentlessly between her legs, finding but a mere flicker of the pleasure he had just started to spill from her.

“And did you…” his tone is coarse, so he pauses to swallow. He hates that his voice is coming out so low, he hates that this woman can reduce him like this in a matter of minutes, that his cock is already stirring. “Did you eventually take that urgent matter into your own hands?”

She takes a long lock of silver hair between her fingers, running them through it while she quietly answers

“Twice.”

“Here?”

“Yes.” She looks at him, while her fingers start to work on that lock, making a little braid using only one hand. “Disappointing.”

“The room or your hands?”

“Oh, the room was quite fine.” she lets the little braid rest among the other locks and trails her fingers on his chest, and a moment later underneath the silk, like tentacles. “I only wished I had your hands inside me.”

Her touch licks flames on his skin, on his chest, collarbone, and neck; she touches him with intent, as if she wishes to know what he is made of. “You could have come with me.”

“I didn’t lie, I had some matters to attend to. Besides, coming with you would have left us in quite a situation.” She reasons with diplomacy, not making a blink as her other tentacle slides over his stomach, disappearing underneath. “Sneaking around the Ore Palace to find a place to fuck.”

Aemond exhales heavily as she takes hold of him, parting his lips as she palms him thoroughly.

“Did you think of that while you were with those pretty girls?” she asks, watching his eyelid flicker “I know they’re pretty. Dumb, but pretty.”

He has no idea who she’s talking about. He rests his head against the armchair and opens his mouth as her ministrations grow cadenced and yet unbearably slow.

“Did you think of me?” she asks, softly panting along with him for the mere sight “of taking me in some hidden corner? Of putting your hands on me if I had been there?”

His nails dig into the armrest, around his dagger, until his knuckles go white. Truth is that he did. Sipping that cup of wine, the smell of her on his fingers only made him think of her, and how she would squirm if he touched her right there, under the table. How she would bite her lower lip to swallow her moans as she came all over his fingers.

“I did.” She admits with almost religious honesty. “I came twice thinking of your hands.”

Not a moment later, they are both growling with need as he slams his mouth on hers in a mess of tongues and teeth, and then she gasps, because his hand is on her core, moving already, gathering her wetness and spreading it. “Did you think of this? Hmm?” he croons, watching her closely, rejoicing upon seeing her face scrunching just as it did earlier, wantonly, pleading.

“No…” she mumbles.

“What do you mean no?”

Her hand slips behind his neck, in order to keep his head firm and his face glued to hers. “Inside…” she cooes urgently “I need them inside.”

It’s almost shameful for a proud man like him, how swiftly he obeys, but even if he didn’t want to, she’s so wet for him, dripping and coating his palm, that his fingers would’ve eventually slipped inside.

He sticks them all the way in, flexing and curling, hitting that spot and spilling a loud moan from her, who instantly sinks her hips down, rocking to goad him to start moving. He grants her this other little mercy, pumping nimbly with a squelching sound, going rock hard as she arches on top of him, keeping one hand clamped around his neck and the other on his knee, to find the right angle.

“There you go…” he rasps, watching his fingers disappear inside, feeling her spongy walls hot and squeezing “’Tis what you wanted?”

She is too occupied with trying to catch a puff of air to be bothered to answer, but he wants one. He stops altogether, winning a whine of protest and a flashing glare before her face wrinkles with desperate need.

“Not talking now?” he mocks and then swiftly, he is curling his fingers in a cruel way, drawing a choked whimper out of her throat.

“Yes. Yes, it is what I wanted.”

“Hmm. Go on, then. Take it.” And he spreads his legs a little more to give her room “Fuck my hand.”

Exhaling a small breath of air, she talks almost to herself. “A woman must do everything these days.”

“You won’t be saying that later.”

“Why, what happens later?”

“I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk.”

“That sounds a bit pretentious.”

“And you should have learned by now not to doubt my word.”

And doubt him she won’t, not now. She starts to move, swaying her hips and arching her neck as soon as pleasure washes over her. She would like to savor it, to take this slow, as she likes it, but her low muscles are so tensed and aching; she feels the peak near and can't do anything but run towards.

Aemond watches with labored breath as she rocks and grinds on him desperately, growing frantic by the moment, feeling her arousal down to his wrist, dampening his own silks, spilling a faint unbearable pleasure from the way her flesh grinds against his cock. And he finds himself moaning out of pleasure and pain as she draws near to her peak, gripping his neck hard, pulling at the roots of his hair while emitting a string of short and sharp cries next his ear, until she’s trembling all over, coming with a free and loud moan on his hand.

She tries to regain some air, panting in his ear as she rides the last throes. This, this is what she’s been fantasizing, even dreamed of it. No man has ever made her feel like this, a pulsing heart pounding in every inch of her body, a living flame bathing in fire.

Slowly, she tilts her head back and he takes his hand off her hot, pulsing flesh. She looks down, at her pleasure wrinkling his fingertips, and then up, straight into his turbid eye. He brings his fingers to his mouth to clean them, to taste her, but she snatches his wrist and, staring at him, she engulfs his index with her lips.

He’s tempted to look away, and not wonder how her perfect lips would close around his cock, but he keeps watching as she keeps tasting herself, on his middle finger, and then the ring one.

“How do you taste?”

“Me? Oh, this is not me.” She draws close until she nudges her nose against his and says “Pleasure tastes like the ones we desire.” She kisses him, slowly, darting her tongue in his mouth until he’s humming, tasting bittersweet. “This is your doing.”

A moment later she gasps, holding onto his shoulders because he rises abruptly, lacing his arms around her to hold her and take those few steps that separate them from his bed.

They fall on the soft mattress and her hands fly to his silks, willing to tear them apart until he’s bare. And he helps her, moving his lean shoulders to let the slippery fabric fall. She had thought Qartheen silks suited him perfectly, but now she thinks she’d rather have him like this all day. Her eyes roam freely on his lean body, dented in a few spots by burns and scars of war, a soldier’s body and yet not burly: he’s all refined and graceful, like a sculpture. It makes her mouth go dry, pushing her eyes down, on the thin waist and the prominent v-shape of his muscles.

Willfully, she grasps the soft belt cinching his waist, but he stops her wrists.

“Do you know what this is?” he asks with short breath, and the candles around catch the flashing steel of his dagger, held in his left hand.

“Valyrian steel?”

“The sharpest blade in the world.” and deftly, he twirls it.

It catches her eye for a moment, but then she drags her gaze back on him, relaxing on the sheets with an ounce of challenge in her eyes. “You will have to show me.”

Something wild bursts in his eye, wide and piercing. “Are you offering?”

She cracks a half heated, half cunning smile and says “I’m demanding.”

Aemond lies beside her, holding himself up on one elbow, and with bated breath, she watches his other arm move, bringing the dagger, and its pointy end, to the lilac woven shielding her torso. Slowly and cautiously, he slips the steel under a stripe of silk, locking his eye on her as she startles from the coldness of the blade. He flicks his wrist up, and the steel cuts the silk instantly and smoothly. But he doesn’t stop there, dragging the blade down, cutting all, unraveling her body, and not missing the way her stomach jolts, her breath hitches, and not out of fear.

He trails his eye all over her body, glowing under the candles, lingering on the soft patch of hair below her navel; his mouth goes dry and his mind blank. He lets the blade go and drifts down, grabs her legs and forces them open, hardening impossibly more upon seeing her previous peak still coating her cunt in a glistening veil.

She sees him hovering right on her center, anticipation quickens her breath but perhaps also a faint reluctance for what he’s about to do. She would complain about it with Dora, saying most of her lovers just sat there lapping at it like some thirsty dog in the desert. Once, she had even opened a book while having a man’s head between her thighs.

It is therefore with great shock that she abruptly gasps, out loud, when he slams his mouth on her cunt, raising his eye to watch her. She tastes sweeter than he’d expected, and he’s not one for sweet tastes, but this one, he wants it all.

His tongue swirls up and down her folds, circling slowly, making her back arch, her jaw slack open. “Oh God—” she moans once, and twice, unconsciously pushing her hips against his face, feeling the sharp bone of his nose nudging her bundle.

“If you have to sing my praises, then do it properly.” he rasps against her flesh, stopping, but not quite. He brings one hand on her apex, circling it with his thumb, torturing but not as she wants. “Please—” she begs freely, writhing beneath him.

“Please what?” he teases, licking his lips “You like to talk, don’t you? Then use your words.” He presses his thumb deeper and faster, and she whines, in pleasure and protest. “Please—with your tongue”

“Please…?”

“Aemond—”

“Again.”

He has half a mind to make her say his name until she loses her voice, but at the second time she utters it, her vowels even more open given her debauchery, he caves and grips her thighs harshly to keep them as spread open as he can. What happens next is a string of cries and choked moans as his tongue licks and sucks and pierces inside; he eats her thoroughly humming with sheer delight and occasionally groaning as, without being able to avoid it, he grinds against the mattress to gain some relief.

Pleasure coils in her belly as it never did before. She’d never been able to reach her peak like this, whether the occasional man was not that good at that practice or maybe because she’d never longed for anyone as she longs for the Prince. She’s not able to control her voice as she comes straight into his mouth, she’s not able to control her muscles shaking all over, nor her hand, flying into his hair, pulling and pushing him against her as she practically rides his face in the last spasms.

She lies there for a moment, ears numb and heart pounding like a hammer, but she has little time to come to her senses; he moves, leaning on top of her, mouth and chin slick. It makes her strangely proud to see it. This time, her hands are free to roam, discarding the last silks until he’s completely bare. Aemond slips between her legs, hissing at feeling her moist flesh against his. He cannot wait any longer, as he moves to angle her hips and bury himself inside her, she grabs his face, forcing him to look up.

“Show me.”

It takes him barely a moment to get what she means. He freezes on the spot, and looks down with a grimace.

“You saw mine.” She says sofly. And it’s true. Even if he didn’t know, he saw, he touched, her wound.

And maybe it’s because he did, and he knows it to be true that this time there’s no reluctance, or rejection choking down his words. “I am sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter, you couldn’t—”

“No. Not about last night.”

All I wanted was for him, anyone, to say they were sorry for what had been done to me.

Air hitches in her throat as she stares at him with wide eyes. He has that unwavering stone-like look on his face and she knows he means it. No second purpose could ever force his tongue into saying that, because he doesn’t have any. He had her already, and he would have her again, whether he had spoken those words or not. But he means it. He chooses all his words too carefully to waste them on lies.

All she knows now, is that she wants him. A foreign, fierce willing like the one that possessed her the night before, urging her to stay right where she was, to goad him to take her harder, instead of begging him to stop.

She grips his neck and surges to kiss him, moaning with liberation into his mouth, swallowing his soft growl as her hand slips between them, grabbing him and guiding him against her entrance. He pushes in ever so easily, and she throws her head back on the sheets, gasping at the stretch while he rests his forehead on her chest, struggling to breathe as he buries himself inside her.

The bushes pierce through his feet, bleeding on the ground, a pain he is well accustomed.

One must walk barefoot in the Wood of Shadows.

The long blue robe rustles in the wind; it is loud in his ears, wailing, as it does nowhere else.

He stops next to a black barked tree and leans his ear against it. Glancing up, a mantle of dark leaves wave in the sky, bleeding blue.

He hurries up, resuming his path. His right hand trembles incessantly as it always does next to it. Fortunately, he holds the little vial in his other hand, safe.

The Palace of Dust is covered in dark, not even a torch lighting the way. They say there are no walls or ceilings there. They say there is no such thing as time in the House of the Undying.

He opens one door and enters a round room, clothed in dark, except for one, faint white light coming from a hole in the ground. A water well, translucent; soft waves curl the surface, rippled by no trace of wind.

There is only one man standing in the light, looking into the water. The others are scattered around the room.

“Is he Seeing?” asks the man with the trembling hand.

“Hush. Did you bring it?” answers another, coming into view under the faint white light.

“Here.” He hands over the vial. “I’ve never seen so much of it. Leaves are bleeding as we speak. It’s like an awakening.”

“It is awakening.” says the other, his eyes barely visible under the cloak.

“But why?”

He receives a long scornful look. “You are weak. That is why you’re reduced like that.” the other says, glancing at his hand “You cannot bear it.”

“We are awakening.” Says another voice from somewhere “We awaken in the presence of the most ancient and powerful magic.”

“Fire?” tries the trembling man.

The one with the vial turns his head, nodding. “And blood.”

He walks to the man standing before the well. He is looking into the translucent water. He doesn’t blink. Seems like he’s not even breathing. But there’s a strange curve on his blue lips, hardly visible. Almost a smile, a fond one.

“Fydor.”

Only then, the man blinks and turns his head.

“Freshly collected.” the other lifts his arm, showing the little vial. Under the well’s light, the liquid shines with a vivid blue.

The mute warlock takes it and swiftly lifts the cap. The other hurries to take a step back, while the one with the trembling hand widens his eyes with almost dread. His fingers start to shake maniacally, as he watches the man in the light drinking the Shadow.

All the others, at once, seem to emit a choked snarling sound, as thirsty men in the desert upon seeing a pool of water.

The empty vial falls to the floor, breaking in little pieces, the water in the well moves as rippled by an opposite wind, and Fydor makes a choking sound; his eyes rolls over like in a seizure, and then they stop.

The pupil is gone, all is left is the white, but it is not white, not anymore. Too much Shadow of the Evening. His lips, nails and white of his eyes are blue for good.

At times, it lasts for hours. Others, it’s barely a minute. But there’s no time in the House of the Undying.

When it ends, it could be morning outside, they do not know, and they do not care.

“Fydor?” the same one asks when the warlock’s pupils are back in their place.

The man looks at him for a moment, and then starts moving his hands jerkily. “It is time.”

“Time for what?”

“Time to act.”

“What about your daughter?”

For a moment, Fydor looks into the well. “Kori is on her own path now. I cannot interfere. She won’t let me. But seeds must be sown.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Keeping his blue eyes on the water, transfixed, he moves his hands. “What do you do with an old forest so new trees can grow?”

“Burn it.”

The man with the trembling hand looks between the two, warily. “What does it mean?”

Fydor turns, slowly, a shadow falling on his face. “It is quite simple, acolyte. For there to be order, there must be chaos first.”

thank you so much for reading!! 💕💕

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torturedtypewritersdept · 1 month ago

Text

proclivity - part three - true blue

✯ pairing:

ex!bff!rafe cameron x diabetic!kook!fem!reader

✯ summary:

at one point in time rafe was your best friend. can summer romance erase all the damage he's done?

✯ [4.1k] warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, heartbreak, diabetes lingo, injury, ghosting, fluff and fear, domestic violence (not rafe), mean!ex!jj etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was origianlly posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity and i have rewritten + reshared it here :) trying out a new format with this post, hope you like it!

You didn’t want to – really you didn’t. The idea of you and Rafe being alone at a spot – your spot – a place, the place, that you hadn’t shared in close to two years was suffocating to say the least. You have continuously pressed replay on all the world’s worst scenarios; all the things that could go horribly wrong, that would surely break your heart into a million pieces all over again. Your feet feel clucky as they trudge through the sand and like the water that meets the land on the other side, you feel rushed into you; like the waves of a tsunami are crashing against the wall you’ve placed around your heart, the barriers are so close to breaking and they do as soon as you see him. He’s sitting, just past a sand dune, his shirt has been discarded and his hair is wet.

“Hey, hot shot – you've been swimming without me?”

You ask with a forced cheek. He only responds with his signature smirk. It was quiet, awkward for a moment. You couldn’t help but feel like you were being punked as you sat down beside him, his feet digging holes in the sand. You couldn’t remember the last time the notion of him being this close had crossed your mind or even seemed within reach. Which probed your next question to the boy sitting next to you.

“Rafe.”

“Yeah?”

He questioned, with a smile on his face.

“Can you tell me now?”

You asked anxiously, ready for the blow of what you knew was coming – he was going to tell you why he left and you were sure that it was because of you after all. That’s the only thing that made sense in your brain. You watch him anxiously, intently as he shuffles, bringing his hand up to his hair to swoop his long locks out of his face and behind his ears.

“Yeah, I guess I owe you that don’t I, pretty girl?”

You’re on edge as you hear your old namesake leave his lips. He moves his hands behind him, leaning back into the sand. His skin feels hot against it, he notes. He swallows thickly and opens his mouth to speak.

“You know I was different after my mom died, right?”

You’re taken aback by his question – of course you know. She was the fucking sun and he’s just fucking like her; his cheeks and eyes – they belong to her. He belonged to her and it physically pains you to see him lose it after she’s passed away. You remember it all but mostly the way the bright left the blue hue of his eyes in the same moment the breath left her body. It makes your bones hurt to think about it still.

“Yeah – how could I forget? I was too, we all were.”

You said quickly.

“I kept it well hidden then – until I couldn’t anymore, until I didn’t have a choice.”

He’d replayed how he was going to tell you in his head over and over, over the last two years and finally came to the conclusion that he never ever would. But, now – at the prospect of having you within his reach again, he’s sure he’s going to spill his guts any moment.

“Can you spit it out, drama queen?”

You said with annoyance. So he blurted it out – rather frantically.

“I was on drugs, okay!”

He shouted. There was silence for a moment, you – too shell shocked to reply.

“Look – I know you’re perfect and you’ve never done anything wrong in your life, okay? I’m sorry.”

His eyes go dull as he braces himself for your judgemental glare.

“What?”

You ask in a too small voice. He doesn’t know what to say, so he stays quiet for a moment.

“I was on drugs. Nobody knew. Then, I owed Barry a massive amount of money and he knew I loved you more than anyone, alright? So I had to cut ties.”

He said very matter-of-factly.

“I’m sorry.”

You whispered and the ocean breeze made him suddenly cold, or maybe your tone of voice sent a chill up his spine. He’s truly not sure which.

“What do you have to be sorry about, y/n?”

He asked confusedly.

“Not being enough – not being good enough for you to come to me and tell me the truth, that you didn’t feel like you could come to me.”

The crack in your voice as you finished talking cut him straight to his core.

“Pretty girl, it’s not like that, okay? I was trying to protect you.”

Again, there was silence for a little while before either of you spoke. Rafe was trying to find the words; the ones to make you understand that you weren’t to blame.

“You’re not messing with me, right?”

You asked suddenly.

“What do you mean?”

He questioned, confusedly.

“I mean, you actually want to be near me again? You’re not messing with me?”

You asked innocently, feeling far too insecure for his answer to be anything other than yes.

“Of course, I want to be near you. I never wanted to stop being near you. It was just easier to cut everyone out than to explain my pain to someone else. I didn’t want to face all the disappointment either.”

You swallowed thickly and he noticed.

“I’m sorry. I always just assumed it was me, that I had done something.”

You whispered, almost inaudibly. But, he heard you, loud and clear.

“What? What could you possibly have done?”

He asked incredulously.

“I-I don’t know.”

You looked down at your feet, afraid of what he was going to say next, not wanting this intimacy with him to become foreign and far off again. He gently lifted your chin so your eyes could meet his.

“You never did anything wrong and this is not a game. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

He reassured you gently.

“I appreciate you reassuring me, but it’s going to take a lot more than words for me to trust you again and I think you know that.”

You replied, giving him the kindest smile you could muster up. It wasn’t your intention to be rude or mean to him, you just needed him to know where you stood.

“I know. I’m sorry that I broke your trust, but I hope you know I’m going to spend every day trying to make things right between us.”

“Okay, Cameron.”

You smiled nudging his shoulder. You made your way back to the parking lot with Rafe, not long after the conversation fizzled out.

“Well, I think I’m gonna head home. This was fun.”

You said with a sweet smile.

“Let me drive you, I know you walked, you always walk here.”

Rafe spoke, excitement in his voice.

“Okay.”

You agreed to his idea, smiling kindly his way, following him to the truck you had made your home ever since he had gotten his license. He was the first of the two of you to be able to drive and you had taken full advantage of that, waiting for him after football practices and in the early morning so he could cart you everywhere you needed to go. That was the first thing you missed when he had left you - the intimate car rides, where you experienced a version of Rafe that no one else got to. He opened the door for you, ushering you into the passenger seat and closing it once he made sure you were inside and comfortable. Making his way around to the driver’s side, he took his keys out of his pocket and climbed in, starting the truck. The engine roared, sending vibrations through your spine. It felt euphoric to be here, alone with him. Which was something you had dreamed about for so long. He pulled out of the beach parking lot, hands steady on the wheel, and began the trek to his neighborhood. Tannyhill had become your second home over the years, whether it was play dates with Rafe when you were six or trying on clothes with Sarah when you were fifteen, the Camerons were your family and you were thankful that your favorite one was seated next to you, a backward baseball cap sitting on his head and strong arms fixed on the wheel. You’d never get over the view.

“Y/N?”

He spoke your name with a question in mind.

“Yeah?”

You smiled in his direction.

“Would you wanna come to dinner tomorrow at Tannyhill?”

He asked gently.

“Sure, you know I never pass up Rose’s cooking! What’s the occasion?”

You questioned with a giggle, it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

“Just having you back, I guess.”

He smiled sheepishly.

“That’s sweet, Rafe.”

You spoke softly, the blush coating your freckled cheeks.

“Your parents are going to be there, so I figured you could just join them and we can have a big family dinner.”

“Why are my parents going to be there?”

You questioned, confused at his comment.

“Uh, Ward said he and your dad are working on some big business project or something.”

He replied, not really knowing the answer to what you were asking. He had no idea what the two men were up to.

“Ah, okay. Sure, Rafe, I’d love to come. How fancy do I have to dress, 1-10 on the fancy scale?”

The laugh that escaped his lungs was boisterous. You and Rafe had created the fancy scale after you got bitched out by your dad’s for not dressing appropriately for Midsummer’s in the eighth grade and ever since you always warned each other of the fancy level parties or dinners would be.

“A solid 5.”

He retorted a laugh ever-present on his lips. He forgot how much you made him laugh and how good it felt. He was brought out of his thoughts as he pulled into the driveway, spotting your car sitting right next to your dad’s.

“This has been fun! I missed you.”

You spoke softly and a smile danced across Rafe’s features.

“I missed you too, Y/N.”

Your eyes studied his face, looking for any inkling of deception. There were none, at least not that you could see. His eyes met yours, locking in on your face and not looking away. You swallowed thickly, unsure of what to do. Having his full attention was not something you were used to anymore.

“Thank you, Rafe. I seriously had a really good time tonight. We will do a movie night soon.”

“Of course, you’re still my favorite girl.”

He smiled kindly, ushering you over to your front door, lingering for moments longer than he should have, but not wanting to let you out of your sight.

Your phone rang early the next morning and as you groaned loudly, willing whoever was making your phone ring at 7 am to die, you read the contact. It was Topper. Your sluggish fingers slowly but surely slid across the screen to see what in God’s name your best friend wanted this early.

“H-hello?”

You grumbled.

“Wake your ass up!”

Topper yelled into the phone.

“T-top. I’m about three seconds from killing you. Why are you screaming into my phone so early?”

You questioned with annoyance.

“Get up and get dressed. We’re outside your house.”

He said plainly.

“Who’s we? And for what? It’s fucking 7 am?!”

“Don’t be grumpy, princess. We just want to spend the day with your sexy little self.”

Kelce interjected.

“Kelce, please shut up. I’m not awake enough for your bullshit attempts at flirting with me.”

You grumbled with a sneer behind that phone that he couldn’t see.

“Damn, you’re a spitfire today!”

Topper exclaimed, laughing.

“I was up late, okay? Jesus Christ.”

You couldn’t believe he was being so mean to you this early in the day.

“Okay, well get up, get dressed and pack insulin and some snacks. We’re going to be gone all day.”

He replied.

“Top, I can’t. I have this dinner with Rafe tonight, I can’t be gone all day.”

You were nervous to be saying anything to Topper about it at all, he knew your history with Rafe better than anyone. But, you knew you had to tell him the truth.

“Listen, idiot, Rafe is with us. So, come on. We’ll have you both back at Tannyhill in time for your dinner, so either pack a dress or wear one. You’re not missing this.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart leapt at hearing you were going to spend the day with Rafe by your side whether it was in a group setting or not.

“Fine, I’m coming, Topper! Jesus.”

You said, feigning annoyance.

“Told you she’s not a morning person.”

Rafe interjected, giggling.

You grinned to yourself, realizing you were going to get to spend an entire day and night with Rafe. Scurrying out of bed, you searched through your closet in a hurry and settled on wearing a baby blue sundress with white polka dots that Rafe got you for your birthday the summer before you started high school. He always said that baby blue was your color. You slid it on quickly, pairing it with white platform sneakers and some dainty gold jewelry. You fluffed your hair and quickly packed your insulin after changing your insulin pump site and choosing a new area of your stomach to plunge the needle into. You ran through the kitchen, grabbing a few snacks and some juice to throw in your bag. Before walking out the door to Topper’s jeep, you stopped, took a breath, and smoothed your dress and hair before stepping out of the house and opening the back passenger door, hopping in, to be met with a very tired Rafe Cameron.

“Hey, sweet cheeks! Are you done being an asshole? I need my morning kiss.”

Kelce gave you a sly smirk and Rafe chuckled to himself, knowing pushing your buttons this early was not a good idea.

“Kelceo, Fuck off!”

You exclaimed with a growl, letting him know you weren’t in the mood.

“Fine, I’ll chill. Can you blame me? Look at that dress.”

He continued his train of putting his foot in his mouth.

“Kelce, cool it, man.”

Rafe spoke, his tone laced with warning. His protective nature made you smile.

“So, what’s so important that you drug me out of bed at 7 am on a Saturday?”

You questioned Topper.

“My mom set us up on a tour of UNC like months ago and I forgot to tell you until this morning.”

He replied nonchalantly, as if it wasn’t absolutely unhinged to let you know the morning of – in a way that only Topper knows how.

“Topper, I’m going to kill you.”

You muttered. You truly couldn’t think of a better way to spend a Saturday, your three favorite boys, and a four-hour-long road trip. Truthfully, what could go wrong?

You were brought out of your thoughts by Rafe’s hand touching your elbow.

“Y/N?”

He was saying your name in question again.

“Sorry, I was zoned out. What’s up?”

You asked.

“Have you eaten yet?”

He asked in a gentle, hushed tone not wanting to draw everyone's attention to the two of you.

“No.”

You replied just as quietly.

“Go ahead and eat, okay? I read that being up on your feet all day can be hard on your body.”

You were shell shocked for just a second – he cared enough to read about what your life is like?

“You’ve been reading about diabetes?”

You questioned.

“Of course I have, you’re my favorite girl.”

He said it again.

“Thanks, Rafe. That’s so sweet.”

He smiled in response and watched as you took the banana out of your bag and began to eat it. When you finished, Topper was pulling into a gas station and asked you to come in with him to pick out some snacks while Rafe and Kelce pumped gas. As you made your way inside, rummaging through the aisles of various snacks, Topper began the inevitable best friend questioning that you knew was bound to happen eventually.

“So, you and Cameron, huh?”

He teased, knowing your history of being in love with him since you were six.

“I don’t think he feels that way. I’m just happy to have him back.”

You gave Topper a kind smile.

“So, what happened? I mean was there a conversation? Did he at least apologize?”

“Yeah, Top. He did.”

You said, matter-of-factly.

“Y/N, if you don’t tell me everything right now, I’m going to fucking combust.”

He said with urgency as he giggled.

“Okay, okay. Jesus! So, we met up at our spot the day after the party and he told me the truth. I have a feeling that it’s not all of it, but he seemed genuine and i’m assuming it’ll all come out in layers over time.”

“Why do you say that?”

He questioned with curiosity.

“Because it seemed like there was more to the story, more to tell. I got a very shrunken down version.”

You replied.

“Well, if you need me to beat his ass I will. You just let me know.”

He spoke with a devilish smirk that you knew meant he was both serious and joking.

“Thanks, Top.”

You laughed.

“Of course, you know I always have your back.”

He replied, snaking an arm around your shoulders.

“Anyways, so we talked about the drugs and why he felt like he couldn’t talk to me, and then he told me he was sorry and he wanted to be friends again. He drove me home and asked me to come to dinner tonight at Tannyhill. I said, yes, so here we are. Oh, and I told him about me being sick at the party-”

“You did what?!”

You were cut off with an incredulous question and raised eyebrows from Topper.

“Yeah, I told him a little about getting sick when we ended things and he didn’t even run like I thought he would.”

You said with a soft, sweet smile. Topper couldn’t remember the last time he had seen you smile like that.

“I told you he wouldn’t. He loves you.”

He replied easily, the truth of the words flew out of his mouth so effortlessly.

“Yeah, we’ll see. I’m not 100% on board yet. I don’t want to get my hopes up and then he runs away again.”

Topper shrugged, he couldn’t disagree with your reservations after the last couple years you’d had. You’d been through so much. All he wanted was to see you happy and he knew if the timing was right Rafe would treat you so well. He’d truly changed.

“That’s understandable and valid. Just don’t write him off yet. He might surprise you.”

He said with an easy smile.

“Thanks, Top.”

The two of you shared a hug after exiting the convenience store, with snacks in hand. As you made your way back to the jeep, Rafe admired your form, watching the wind raking through the skirt of your dress.

“Welcome back, pretty girl. Are you ready for our morning kiss, yet?”

Kelce asked again, sweetly this time. He was starting to get on your nerves.

“Kelceo, cool it.”

Topper stated, climbing into the driver's seat. Kelce was annoying everyone today, kidding or not.

You climbed into the backseat again, plopping down next to Rafe. His sparkling blue eyes took in your smiling form as you tore into a bag of popcorn.

“How are you feeling, sweet girl?”

Rafe questioned, studying your form with his piercing blue eyes. Sweet girl. You hadn’t heard that in a long time and it felt warm against your ears.

“I’m feeling pretty good right now. But, my sugar is low.”

You smiled in his direction.

“How do you know it’s low?”

He asked with genuine curiosity.

“I have this app on my phone, see.”

You turned your phone screen around, which displayed your glucose monitor’s readings. Your blood sugar was low, reading 76 mg/dL. Which was not low enough to warrant panic, but also not high enough to be considered normal.

“So, if 76 is low, what’s considered normal?”

Rafe probed in a genuinely curious fashion.

“Generally, the goal is to keep the daytime blood sugar levels before meals between 80 and 130 mg. But, after-meal numbers are a little bit higher but shouldn’t be more than 180 mg.”

You explained simply.

“Oh, okay. That makes sense. Will you tell me if you start to feel bad?”

He questioned. It made you smile that you seemed to be falling back into your rhythm so easily.

“I won’t have to. You’ll know. But, I promise I will.”

You gave him a reassuring smile and grabbed his hand, squeezing it. The touch, though short-lived, was electric and you wondered if he felt it too. The music topper was playing lulled you to sleep all of thirty minutes into the road trip and you were beginning to stir as soon as he pulled into the UNC visitor’s parking lot.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Rafe ran his fingers through your hair, scratching it in a circular motion. Your favorite way to wake up. When you opened your eyes, you jolted up, embarrassed, realizing your head was on Rafe’s shoulder and drool was pooling at the corner of your mouth, dripping onto the gray t-shirt he was wearing. You turned your head towards him with apologetic eyes as you took in his face, the sweet disposition oozing out of him, as his eyes smiled at you before his mouth did.

“I’m sorry I drooled on you.”

You spoke sheepishly.

“Hey, it’s okay. Not the first time, definitely won’t be the last.”

He chuckled, giving you his classic Rafe Cameron smile before getting out of Topper’s jeep and making his way to the passenger side to open yours for you. As you began to climb out of the car, he picked up your bag, carrying it for you.

“Thanks, Rafe. You don’t have to carry it, though.”

You said, beaming up at him.

“You look so pretty today, I think I’d do anything you asked of me.”

He blurted out without thinking and your eyes went wide as your cheeks filled with a blush.

“You are so sweet, Rafe. Thank you.”

He nodded and smiled your way, yet again.

“I’ll carry it. It will make me feel better if you have a glucose emergency if I know where it is.”

He stated, matter-of-factly, as he placed the brown leather backpack on his shoulder. His words created a flutter in your stomach.

“Okay, losers! Come on, we gotta check-in at the visitor’s center.”

Topper remarked. You and Rafe began following him and Kelce to the front of the building. Topper quickly went inside and left the three of you waiting on the steps as he went to collect your program information, campus maps, and name tags. When he came back out of the door, he handed each of you your designated packets of information and began explaining what the game plan was.

“Okay, so in each of these packets is information specific to your major. Y/N and Rafe, you’re in a group and then me and Kelce are in a group because our majors and buildings are on the same sides of campus. Go through the packet, it’s got a scavenger hunt and then instructions for meeting the bigger tour group after lunch. We will see you guys then.”

He finished what he was saying and Rafe was already moving, ready to get away from Topper and Kelce and celebrate his alone time with you.

“Okay, sounds good.”

Rafe spoke, taking the packet of information from Topper’s hands, and turning to you with a smile.

“You ready?”

He questioned with a smile.

“As I'll ever be, lead the way, Cameron.”

You gestured to the sidewalk in front of you, beaming up at his tall form, opting to go the opposite direction of Kelce and Topper.

Topper and Kelce quickly scurried off, putting you and Rafe alone again, finally. You love the other two stooges with every fiber of your being, but you’d always loved Rafe more. If soulmates were a thing, he was yours in a platonic way of course, because there’s no way he felt about you the way you felt about him. You were okay with that. Rafe in any way, shape, or form was enough for you, as long as you had him in some way, you’d be okay. As Rafe began talking to you, you were brought out of your daydream.

“So, what do you want to hit first, the football field?”

He asked sarcasm present in his tone, though playful and innocent.

“Sure, if you’re gonna be playing here, we should check it out first.”

You gave him a small smile.

“Are you thinking about coming here in all seriousness?”

“Yeah, I was offered a full scholarship for cheer and academics pending my final grades next year.”

“What?! That’s amazing, Y/N!”

“Thanks, Rafe. I wish my brother thought so.”

“What do you mean? Hasn’t he wanted you to go to UNC like forever?”

He asked, confusion ever-present in his voice.

“I mean, yeah. He’s just been different ever since I got sick.”

“What do you mean?”

He questioned.

“It’s like most of the time, I’m a bug he’s trying to swat away.”

You replied with nonchalance, though Rafe could register the pain in your voice.

“Maybe he just worries about you?”

He asked, suggestively.

“Maybe. I don’t know. You’ll see tonight what I mean.”

You muttered.

“Well if it makes you feel any better, we’ll be here together. At UNC, I mean.”

He said with a sweet smile.

“Really?!”

The joy that riddled your face made Rafe smile.

“Yeah, I’ve got some scouts coming to see me play in the fall and I’m excited. UNC is my dream school, though. So even if I have to be a walk-on or not play at all, I’ll still be coming here. They’ve already given me a scholarship.”

“As they should, Mr. Valedictorian.”

You smiled brightly at him.

“Hey, how do you know I’m valedictorian?!”

He chuckled but was surprised. He had never talked to anyone about his class standing.

“Well, I did some digging after realizing I was second in our class, and to my surprise, my favorite Cameron was the one that beat me out.”

You gave him a sly smile.

“Since when am I your favorite Cameron?”

He asked jokingly, though the notion made his heart soar.

“Since always.”

“Oh, come on! You and Sarah have been thick as thieves for the last two years.”

“Maybe. Sarah’s always been a good friend to me. Topper and Kelce too. But, you’ve always been number one in my heart, I hope you know that.”

The kindness exuded from your eyes. You meant every word.

“You’re something else, you know that.”

He chuckled, but you suddenly felt like you had said the wrong thing, swallowing thickly. He observed your form, realizing where your mind had gone.

“No, no, I mean that in a good way. There’s just no one like you. You’ve always been just so perfect. It’s hard to measure up.”

“It’s a facade, trust me.”

You spoke, rolling your eyes at the notion that anything that had anything to do with you was in the same category as perfect. You were brought out of your thoughts as the two of you made your way to the entrance of the football field, following other students into the gates. Rafe looked on in awe at what would be his stomping grounds in just a few short years, his eyes sparkled as he daydreamed about the baby blue uniform he’d get to wear with his name and number sewn into the back. He’d get to matter here. He’d get to be somebody other than Ward Cameron’s son. He’d hope to make you his girl, here. But, quickly pushed that thought down as you began speaking to him.

“What? Are you imagining all of your fans screaming your name? All the girls throwing themselves at you?”

You chuckled.

“Nope. Just one.”

“Shutup! Who is it, Cameron? You have to tell me!”

“You’ll know soon enough, you know how bad I am with secrets.”

You giggled and its music to his ears.

“Boy do I! Remember that time in second grade when we brought that puppy to my house from the street and we were only able to hide it from my mom for three hours before you blabbered?!”

“Not my best secret-keeping moment.”

He chuckled, remembering that day with you. Your soft curls that too often fell on your face and the look of pure fear in your eyes when your mom found out about the puppy.

“That was a good day.”

You spoke softly.

“Yeah, it was.”

The two of you stood side by side, Rafe’s shoulders towering over you, as you both looked onto the field that would be your home for four years. Excitement stirred in your gut at the chance to get out of the Outer Banks, out of Kildare fucking county with your best friends in the entire world and you simply, couldn’t wait. You hoped the next two years would fly by so you could get out of your hometown, finally fall in love, and forget that Kooks and Pogues even existed.

“Okay, Cameron. Let’s go check out the buildings where our classes will be.”

“Sounds good, pretty girl.”

He smiled at you and placed his hand on the small of your back as he led you out of the stadium and back to the quad. Once you made it away from the large crowd inhabiting the stadium, you probed Rafe with another question.

“So, what are you majoring in, big guy?”

“I haven’t fully decided. Dad wants me to be a business and marketing major, but I am really into the idea of English lit. What about you?”

“I’m English Literature with a concentration in creative writing and a minor in entrepreneurship.”

“Nice! What do you want to do with that?”

He probed, curious about your career path.

“I’m not sure, yet. Maybe teach English or become a writer. All I know is that writing and reading makes me feel alive and I’d like to chase that high as long as I can.”

“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.”

You instantly recognized the words he was stringing together into a sentence.

“Rafe Cameron, are you quoting Dead Poets Society to me?”

You smiled so widely at him. This version of Rafe was different. It was one you had seen glimpses of over the years, but this one, he was your person. You were sure of it.

“Don’t all the guys you talk to do that?”

“What? Do you mean the ever-so-educated JJ Maybank who cares about feelings and reading? Yeah, no. I can’t say that they do.”

You scoffed into a laugh at Rafe’s joke slash question.

“Okay, that’s fair.”

He said, letting out a boisterous belly laugh.

“Let’s go look at the Business Administration building first.”

You suggested and Rafe agreed with your idea. Since you both would have classes in both buildings, it truly didn’t matter which you explored first. As you made your way to the building across the quad, your phone started dinging. Your stupid blood sugar, ruining things again.

“What’s that noise?”

Rafe questioned.

“It’s my glucose monitor on my phone. It’s low again.”

You looked on at him, defeated. He gently lifted your bag off of his shoulders and took your phone out and looked down at the readings. 76 mg, way too low for his comfort and probably for yours too.

“It’s 76 mg, Y/N. What do I need to do?”

“Look for anything in my bag with carbs and I'll check again in 15 minutes.”

You reply without the urgency that Rafe is feeling.

“Okay, let’s sit down for the time being. You don’t look like you feel great.”

He motioned to the bench, just off the sidewalk, close to the arboretum. He knew you wanted to see it before you left campus today, so this was the perfect spot.

“I’m okay, just sluggish. I thought I was just tired from last night.”

You let Rafe lead you to sit, his hand on the small of your back. You took his hand as he motioned you down onto the bench and he felt you shaking. Rafe looked through the bag, examining its contents, quickly.

“Okay, there’s bread and a banana. Which is better?”

“Give me the bread. It’s this banana nut bread I make every week.”

“You amaze me you know that?”

He gave you a soft smile and unwrapped the bread from the Ziploc bag it sat in, handing it to you.

“Thank you, Rafe, really, it means the world to have you here and to have your help.”

“Anything for you, I mean that. Are you thirsty?”

“Yeah, there’s water in there, too.”

He nodded, reaching back into the bag to retrieve the water bottle and handing it to you.

“After we get your levels back up, let’s go into the arboretum, and then we will grab some lunch.”

“Sure, thanks, Rafe. I love the Arboretum here, it’s so beautiful!”

“Yeah, I know. You’ve only been talking about visiting it since we were ten.”

“You remember that?”

“I remember everything you tell me.”

You blushed at his confession. You sat there, just chatting back and forth for the fifteen minutes it took for the food to settle before you checked your blood sugar again. Rafe pulled your phone back out of your bag and looked at the screen. 100 mg. We’re back in business baby!

“88 mg, back to normal, pretty girl.”

He spoke, blush coating your cheeks and you watched the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile.

“Thanks, Rafe. You’ve been so good about all of this. It scares most people.”

You thank him sheepishly.

“I’m not most people, you know that.”

He stood up from the bench, placing your backpack on his shoulders once more, and gently took your hand in his, lifting you to your feet. He led you to the sidewalk and you began your trek to the arboretum, his hand on the small of your back once again. You tried not to read too much into his hands constantly being close to you, you and Rafe had always had an intimate relationship that was very hands-on. As you made your way toward the greenhouse, you felt a raindrop hit your nose and before your brain could process what your orbs had just taken in, the bottom of the sky fell out and rain poured from the sky. The same way your eyes leaked when you and Rafe had stopped speaking. As the rain-drenched your clothes, you and Rafe shared a mischievous look, before he grabbed your hand and you both took off running toward your destination. It seemed like you had been running forever when you made it inside the doors of the greenhouse. Once you finally shook the water off of your bodies, reminiscent of a wet dog shaking his fur violently, you had a minute to take Rafe in. The light from the lightning lit up his drenched features. He took his baseball cap off, shaking it out and ringing out the water from his shirt. As he turned to look at you, you moved into him, eyes locking with his, his tall muscular form standing over you. You’re not sure what’s come over you, maybe it’s the care he’s shown you or how different he is now. But, you couldn’t take too much time to process what you were feeling or what you were thinking. The next few moments felt like a scene from a movie, as you placed your hands on his cheeks and kissed his lips, deeply, a moan escaping your lips. He was quick to pull away, bewilderment in his eyes.

“I-I’m sorry, Rafe. I read the signals wrong.”

“I’m not sorry because you didn’t misread anything.”

And just like that, Rafe Cameron was kissing you, gently, deeply, madly, clothes drenched in rainwater and with ecstasy-filled eyes. Rafe Goddamn Cameron was kissing you and you fucking loved it.

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@maybankslover @inthelibrarybtw @luvrcndy @silkylovey @yagirlwrites @obxbabygirl @rafeecameronsbitch @klutzy-kay24 @roseczbalt

#proclivity #proclivity rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafecore #rafe cameron #rafe x reader

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talkdutchtome · 1 year ago

Text

Two lines - Max Verstappen

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader )

genre . . . slight angst, fluff )

summary . . . a one night stand with the formula one world champion ends with an expected pregnancy, can the two of you figure out how to co-parent for the sake of the new life on the way )

requested?. . . based on this request )

warning . . . mentions of sex, one night stand, pregnancy, medical emergency, eclampsia, emergency c-section )

word count . . . 8.8k words )

a/n . . .this is without a doubt the longest and most in-depth piece of work i've done for this blog, i've worked so so hard on this so i hope you all love it. any and all feedback is welcome and encouraged; let me know what you think )

Two lines. Two lines is all it took to completely turn your life upside down. This morning you were feeling positive, life was going well. You had just got a promotion at your job; you were on the back of a great second date with a really lovely guy, you had plans to go out with your girls to celebrate. Life was good. But now, sat on a toilet in a cramped grocery store bathroom, you could almost see all of that goodness and light evaporate into thin air. Now the only thing that was positive was the pregnancy test that sat in the palms of your hands. You did want kids, but not like this. You wanted kids when you were settled down, married with a house and a dog. That was the plan; the plan that you had in your head since you were 11 years old. Grow up, climb the career ladder, meet the love of your life, get married, buy a house- then and only then have kids. Nowhere in that plan did it state have a one-night stand with a Formula One driver in a club bathroom and get pregnant, yet here you are. Two lines.

Four weeks ago, your best friend Mia dragged you to a Formula One race. Neither of you particularly cared for the sport however she had just started dating Charles Leclerc and he had asked her to come and see him race, so she decided that you needed to come with her for support. After the race she also insisted you come with them to the nightclub for the same reason. Things were going fine, Charles was nice, his friends seemed okay. However, things took a turn when she and Charles disappeared halfway through the night leaving you alone with none other than Max Verstappen. It was awkward to say the least. He didn’t seem happy or in a particularly chatty mood so you both did what any reasonable adult would do in that situation- get black out drunk. One drink turned to two drinks, which turned to three and then four. Eventually, the mixed spirits in your system lead to the pair of you getting closer and closer together until the tension was unbearable and you ended up hiding away in the private bathroom with him. No contact details were exchanged by either of you, why would there be, it was a one-time thing - you were never going to see each other again, right?

You hadn’t really thought about that night again until now. Mia and Charles’ relationship eventually fizzled out as quickly as it had started and your brief time in the world of Formula One had ended. Your focus was on Tom, the guy you were dating now. Fuck. Tom. How in the world are you supposed to tell a guy you have been on two dates with that you were pregnant? What were you meant to say at work? Thanks so much for the promotion, see you in a year? You were well and truly fucked. Should you tell Max? You wouldn’t even know how to contact him without going through Mia and that was not an option. You never told her that you even slept with him, you can’t just drop the fact that you’re pregnant with her ex-boyfriend’s best friend's baby. To put it plainly, you had no idea what the hell you were going to do.

Four weeks later and you were slowly making your way through telling everyone who needed to be told, apart from the most important of course; you still hadn’t figured out how to tell Max. Telling your work was first, there wasn’t any issues there and it gave you a false sense of security, thinking that maybe everything would be okay. However, telling Tom did not go as well. After learning that the girl he had been casually dating had fallen pregnant, he essentially sprinted away from the situation, and you, as fast as he could. Then it was time to tell Mia, who for some reason found it hilarious; or at least until she realized that it meant she would have to contact Charles so you could tell Max. Your parents were upset at first but quickly warmed to the idea of being grandparents. As time went on, the dread you felt lessened and lessened and was replaced with excitement. You nicknamed the baby Little Bump and spoke to it every night. Even if this wasn’t what you planned, it was going to be okay. It was you and your Little Bump against the world.

Even though you were content with raising the baby by yourself, the people in your life didn’t seem to agree. Your parents, who didn’t know who the father was, endlessly asked you about him and if he knew and if he wanted anything to do with it. Mia, however, who did know it was Max, held the position that Max had the right to know what was going on. It’s not like you didn’t agree with her, you did. But the fear of his reaction prevented you from being able to tell him. If he reacted badly and told you to go away and never come back, what were you supposed to do in 10 years' time when your child started asking why they didn’t have a dad. You couldn’t exactly tell that poor kid that he wanted nothing to do with us but if you tune into Sky Sports on a Sunday you might catch a glimpse of him.

So, you didn’t tell him. You go through the motions of pregnancy without him. Morning sickness, scans and checkups. You were happy with your choice; you’d both be okay without him. But that all changed the second you felt your little bump kicking. The feeling of movement in your stomach made everything so much more real. No longer was the baby just a concept, but a real human being growing inside of you. It dawned on you then, that even if you were perfectly capable of raising Little Bump by yourself, this little baby was a privilege; and it was a privilege that Max should have the opportunity to have too.

You needed to tell him, that was decided. The next part was figuring out how. Luckily for you, a quick google search told you that the next Formula One race was in a city not too far out from where you lived. So, you go to the city you know he’s going to be in, Mia insists on coming with you, both for emotional support but also to make sure both you and Little Bump stay safe.

The first issue to tackle when arriving is convincing Mia to call Charles. She never told you what happened between the two of them but whatever it was it was clearly not a clean break. The second obstacle was convincing Charles to actually give Mia Max’s number. Apparently phoning up your ex to ask for one of their best friend’s phone numbers isn’t really socially acceptable. However, after much persuasion he eventually gave it up; so now you were in the same city as him and you had his number. All that was left was to tell him. You typed up a message telling him everything; before swiftly deleting it and writing it again, and then again, and then again. The cycle went on for hours; you just didn’t know how to tell someone that you hardly knew that they were going to be a father. Eventually, you settled on sending a message simply asking him to meet you.

You- Hi Max, It’s Y/N. We met the other week through Mia and Charles. I’m in town, could we meet? There’s something I need to talk to you about?

Max- Oh hi yes Y/N I remember. I’m sorry I’m really busy with the race so I don’t have time for anything

You- It is really quite important. Please.

Max- Okay fine. Come to the track, I’ll put your name on the guest list, and I can give you 5 minutes before qualifying starts.

The nerves were becoming unbearable now. You had thought about turning around and running away multiple times on the drive to see Max, but you preserved; not for yourself but for Little Bump who deserved a chance of having a dad. Arriving at the track, you did as he said and told the security that you were on the guest list, and they let you through without too much issue. The urge to run away became stronger the closer you got to actually talking to him, you just had a feeling that things were not going to end well but against your better judgement you sent a quick text message to Max informing him you were waiting for him in catering.

The second you caught sight of him coming towards him you could have sworn Little Bump started kicking, affirming to you that you were making the right decision. This baby deserved a dad, and you couldn’t be the person who stood in the way of that.

“Hey Y/N I’m in a bit of a rush. What was you needed?” He asked the second he got close enough to you for you to hear him. This was it. Now or never. You were going to tell him.

“Max I’m-” you begin to speak before you are promptly cut off by a sudden surge of nausea. With one hand clamped to your mouth desperately trying not to embarrass yourself and vomit everywhere, you ran to the nearest bathroom, leaving a stunned Max Verstappen in your wake, wondering what the hell happened.

After a sufficient time in the bathroom, you gingerly returned back to the catering area, expecting Max to be long gone; but to your surprise he was sat at the table you had just left, his face painted with worry. You couldn’t even imagine what he was thinking, a random one-night stand gets your number, demands to see you and then runs away to be sick; you couldn’t look more unstable if you tried. Despite this, however, Max had waited.

“Are you okay Y/N? What just happened?” he asked

“Oh yeah, I’m fine that’s nothing to worry about, it’s like this every morning.” The words left your mouth before you realized that maybe you shouldn’t have said that. The worry on Max’s face only increases with your comment. You can see he’s trying to find the words to ask you what the hell is going on and you’re aware that he needs to be getting ready for qualifying like now, so you bite the bullet and just come out with it.

“Max I’m pregnant” you say before closing your eyes, not wanting to even see his reaction. You’re expecting shouting, frantic questions or denial; instead, you are met with silence. When your eyes open you are met with Max stood there white as a sheet looking like he was desperately trying not to pass out.

“I know this is a bit of a shock, but I haven’t... with anyone else so it’s definitely-” you go to assure him that you’re sure that the baby is his but are interrupted by a women walk up and stand in between the both of you.

“Hey baby I was looking for you everywhere” the woman spoke before wrapping her arms around Max and pulling Max into a hug. If Max looked like he was going to pass out before, he looked like he was about to drop down dead now.

“Hey Beth, I just came down for a coffee and bumped into Y/N, she’s Charles’ friend.” Max said, barely able to get the words out. The women, Beth, turned to look at you for the first time.

“Hi I’m Beth; Max’s girlfriend.” Beth said as she stuck her hand out for you to shake and you felt the feeling of nausea come back- Max having a girlfriend would make this whole situation a lot more complicated. You forced a smile and shook her hand, trying desperately not to need to be sick again.

“Oh Hi, yeah I’m Charles friend.” That’s a lie, you hadn’t spent more than a few hours with Charles in your life and he spent the majority of them with his tongue down Mia’s throat.

“How long have you been together?”

“2 years.” Beth’s words made your heart drop. Two years? There’s no way you could have heard that right. You look to Max for clarification that you misheard Beth, but he had his eyes closed, trying desperately to wish away this conversation.

“Beth, you go on I’ll just grab my coffee and come and catch up with you.” Max finally spoke up after a while of silence and even though Beth didn’t seem to like that idea very much, she did as he said and walked away. Once Max was sure she was out of earshot he began speaking again.

“Look I really can’t do this here. Text me the address of your hotel and I’ll come around tonight.” he told you before walking away. Maybe that was a positive thing, you thought to yourself, at least he wants to talk about it and not just pretend he didn’t hear you and move on.

You had been pacing around your hotel room since you arrived back after speaking to Max at the track, deeply regretting ever coming and telling him. With Max having a girlfriend there is almost no chance that he would want to be a part of your and Little Bump’s life, especially if he did cheat on his girlfriend with you like you assumed. The thought made you sick, you had been cheated on before and it killed you and to think that you played a part in her pain drove you insane. You were infuriated at Max; so, when he knocked on your door that night you were prepared to tear him a new one. But when he walked on the room in silence, looking like a man who had lost all hope, the anger you felt seemed to slip away.

“Are you sure?” he asked after a few moments of awkward silence between the two of you. His voice seemed so much weaker than you remembered it all those months ago, he didn’t look like a confident two-time world champion like he did when the two of you got in this mess, he looked small and frail.

“Yeah, Max, I’m sure. But I understand why you wouldn’t be able to just take my word for it so when Little Bump is born, I’m happy to do a paternity test”

“Little Bump?”

“Yeah, I haven’t found out the gender yet so that’s what I’ve been calling it.” You could have sworn you saw the smallest smile creep onto his face.

“Max, Beth said you had been together for two years, is that true?” You asked him and if there was a smile on his face before, there definitely wasn’t now.

“It is but we broke up for a bit, during the- well you know” he spoke, and you could feel your heart rate start to calm down. This situation isn’t good by any means but at least you weren’t involved in an affair.

“Look Max, I don’t expect anything from you. If you want me to go now I will, and you’ll never see me again. I don’t want money from you or anything like that. All I wanted was to give you a chance to be in Little Bump’s life.” You told him and braced yourself for him to confirm that he did indeed want you to leave and never come back.

“No. I do want to- I don’t really know what this is or how to do it but if I’m going to have a kid, I’m going to be there for it.” His words made you smile, even if this situation was messy and uncomfortable; it would all be worth it if you could give Little Bump a dad it would all be worth it.

“Okay well I’ve got a scan next week, you can come to that if you’d like?” you asked him, expecting him to say no, to tell you that he would be too busy but instead he surprised you.

“Yeah, I’ll be there”

Every day from that night in your hotel room to the day of the scan Max had texted you, checking up on you and Little Bump. Truly the last thing you had expected was that he would not only want to be a part of the baby’s life, but he seemed to actually care. Maybe this would all be okay, the two of you could co-parent and Little Bump would grow up with two parents who loved it. When the day of the scan came around, Max informed you that he would be picking you up early and taking you to lunch before your appointment to ‘get to know each other’. This made you more nervous that you cared to admit, the time you had spent with Max prior to this was short-lived and not filled with very much talking, hence why you were in this situation, so you really had no idea what kind of person he was or if the two of you would even get on., he could be an absolute arsehole for all you knew. But after only 30 minutes of spending time with him you realized that he was one of the sweetest people you had ever met

“So, how’s Beth?” you asked him once you were at the restaurant, curious to know if she had been made aware of the situation yet.

“She’s okay. I told her” Max said, his eyes fixed on his food in front of him, not daring to look up.

“Oh, how did that go?”

“It was pretty rough at first, she was really upset. But I think we’re going to make it work” He looked up at you this time and his eyes bore into you. The feeling of a lump in your throat made itself known but you swallowed it down; it’s not like you were jealous or anything but you were aware of how complicated this situation was going to be, and it would be made even more complicated with another person involved.

“That’s good then” you told him, forcing a smile, not wanting Max to catch on to your worries. Even if you did have reservations on how this whole situation would play out, so far Max had been nothing but helpful and co-operative, so you knew you owed it to him to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“So, I was thinking, we need to come up with some sort of plan as to how this is going to work” Max told you, looking very nervous.

“I grew up only living with my dad, and that meant I didn’t get to see my mum much at all and that was really hard. I didn’t really have a relationship with her until I was an adult, and the last thing I want is for the baby to have to go through that. I don’t want to have to wait 20 years to have a relationship with Little Bump” his voice dropped to a whisper for the last sentence, and you could see the pain in his eyes, this was clearly something that had been playing on his mind. Truthfully, you had no idea how this would work; Max lived in a different country to you, and he travelled so much for work, so it certainly wasn’t going to be easy. But looking into his worried eyes, you couldn’t help but want to assure him that everything would be okay. Across the table, Max sat with a haunted look in his eyes, his vulnerability on full display. You could sense the weight of his past trauma casting shadows over his usually confident exterior. As he picked at his food, his hands shook slightly, betraying the turmoil within. Max's voice, usually steady and assured, now carried a quiver that hinted at the lingering scars of childhood. You watched as he spoke, his words faltering at times, like a wounded child trying to find his way in a world that had once been unkind. With each sentence, it became evident that Max's past still clung to him, a heavy burden he struggled to bear. All you wanted to do was to reach across the table and hold him, to let him know that he doesn’t have to pretend to be strong.

“I can’t tell you what is going to happen Max, but I can promise you that we will make it work. Our baby will have two parents” the smile Max gave you in response to your words made your heart melt, and you couldn’t help feeling like things were going to work out.

“Okay Mum and Dad are we ready to see the baby?” The nurse asks you after placing the cold gel on your exposed stomach, ready to get the ultrasound going. As you both sat in the dimly lit ultrasound room, Max's eyes were fixed on the monitor, and his fingers trembled slightly as he held your hand. It was the first time he had witnessed the miracle of your growing baby, and the emotions that welled up inside him were impossible to contain. He tried his best to hide it, but a tear welled up at the corner of his eye, threatening to escape. The nurse moved the wand across your belly, and the image of your tiny, squirming baby filled the screen. Max's breath caught as he saw those delicate features, the tiny heart beating steadily. You could see the awe and love in his eyes, the way his lips curved into a soft smile that he couldn't suppress. Though he tried not to show it, his voice was tinged with emotion as he whispered, "That's our baby, Y/N." It was a moment of profound connection, and Max's unspoken feelings filled the room with a warmth that was as undeniable as the love you both felt for the new life growing within you.

Max couldn't shake the overwhelming emotions that had swelled up during the ultrasound. As you both walked out of the clinic, he stopped and took your hand, his eyes still filled with that deep, newfound love for the life growing inside you.

"Y/N," he began, his voice gentle and earnest, "I want you to move in with me. I want to be there for you and Little Bump, every step of the way. I want to take care of you both." You hesitated, your mind racing with practical concerns. You hardly knew Max, and he wanted you to move country and live with him. Even if you wanted to you couldn’t afford it, you’d have to leave your job which would mean no maternity pay. Plus, Max had a girlfriend, you couldn’t imagine her being too thrilled about her boyfriend moving in with another woman.

“Max, that’s sweet but it’s not possible. What about my job? What about Beth?” You asked, trying to make him see that this wasn’t rational, it wouldn’t work, but still Max's gaze remained unwavering.

"We'll figure it all out, Y/N. Beth will be okay with it, she will understand why this needs to happen. Please don’t worry about any of it, I want you to focus on your health and the baby's well-being. And as for your job, well, none of that matters. I can take care of us financially. I want to be there for my child, for you. Please, Y/N, say you'll move in with me."

Tears welled up in your eyes, not just from the pregnancy hormones but from the overwhelming love and support Max was offering. Maybe this was crazy, you thought to yourself, there's no way this would work; but when you looked into his eyes, you could see his sincerity, he really meant every word

So, against your better judgement, you nodded, a heartfelt smile breaking through. "Okay, Max. I trust you. Let's do this together."

The move happened quickly; Max was eager to make sure that he could look after you as much as he could. Your job wasn’t too happy at you for quitting so soon after receiving a promotion, your mum and dad thought you were completely insane. Until now you refused to tell them who the dad was, now all of a sudden not only is the Formula One world champion the dad but you’re also moving to Monaco to live with him. Although if you thought telling your parents was hard, telling Max’s was even worse. Meeting Jos Verstappen was an experience that you would never forget. Before you left Mia informed you that Jos was known for being very overbearing and having a very short temper; however, nothing she could have said would have prepared you for what was to come. It started with Max telling Jos multiple times to speak English rather than Dutch, so you weren’t just sat there witnessing the whole situation go down without any idea what they were saying. Then Jos became angry at Max for making such a horrible mistake, after that he became angry at you, alleging that you had planned this to trap Max and steal his money. Throughout the whole ordeal, Max was able to stay calm, gently telling his dad that he was happy and excited to be a father, however when Jos started on you Max’s patience was gone immediately. Telling his father that you weren’t like that and the two of you were happy and were going to raise this baby whether he liked it or not. You couldn’t help but notice that even when Max was clearly very angry at his father, he never once raised his voice or lost his temper, instead choosing to calmly explain the situation to him and let him know how it was going to go down. This, to you, was extremely reassuring, you were still getting to know Max and the person who he was; and every day he proved himself to be a good person, somebody who would be a great dad.

When you arrived at Max's apartment, you were taken aback by the thoughtfulness he had poured into preparing a room just for you. The soft hues of pastel blue and warm beige on the walls exuded a calming atmosphere, and a vase of fresh flowers sat on the bedside table. A plush blanket adorned the bed, and there was a selection of your favorite books on the shelf. He had clearly spoken to Mia to get this all prepared

"Max, this is incredible," you said, feeling deeply touched by his effort. "I never expected you to do all this." He smiled warmly and gestured toward a door at the end of the hallway.

"And this," he said, leading you to another room, "I thought it could be the nursery, but I wanted you to have a say in how we decorate it. I didn't want to presume anything."

Tears welled up in your eyes again, this time from the sheer care and consideration he had put into making you feel comfortable. Max was doing everything he could to ensure you and the baby felt at home.

"Max, you're amazing," you whispered, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

"Thank you for being so thoughtful and caring." He held you close, his embrace filled with love and reassurance.

"Y/N, I just want you and our baby to be happy here. Anything you need, just let me know." As you settled into your new home, you couldn't help but feel incredibly grateful for the man who was putting in a genuine effort to make you as comfortable as possible.

The first few days of living with Max had gone surprisingly smoothly, a peaceful coexistence that allowed you both to settle comfortably into your new life together. However, when Beth caught wind of the new arrangement, her arrival was swift and unexpected. You retreated to your bedroom to give them space, though overhearing the ensuing argument left you feeling uneasy. From your bedroom, you couldn't help but overhear the escalating argument between Max and Beth. Their voices carried the weight of frustration and anger as Beth expressed her displeasure about you living with Max.

"I just don't understand why you need to do this, Max," Beth said, her voice trembling with frustration. "I get that you want to be a part of the baby's life, but why does Y/N have to be part of ours?"

Max's response came, softer but firm, "Beth, I want to give our child the family life I never had. That means being there for Y/N and the baby."

Beth's anger didn't abate, and she retorted, "But what about us? What about our plans and our future?"

Max took a deep breath, his voice filled with resolve. "Right now, Y/N and the baby are my priority. I thought you'd understand."

As the argument reached a fever pitch, Beth eventually stormed out of the apartment, the door slamming shut behind her. You couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness as you realized that your presence was causing tension in Max's relationship, even though he had been nothing but caring and supportive toward you.

Max, after a moment of silence, knocked on your bedroom door gently and entered. He looked tired but determined.

"Y/N, I'm sorry you had to hear that," he said, his eyes filled with regret. "But please understand, you and the baby mean the world to me right now. I want to do right by both of you."

You nodded, your own heart heavy with the knowledge that your presence was complicating Max's life. "I appreciate everything you're doing for us, Max."

He gave you a reassuring smile, reaching out to hold your hand. "We'll get through this together, Y/N. You and Little Bump are my family now, and I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you both have everything you need."

As you looked into his eyes, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the unwavering support and love Max was offering, even if it meant navigating rocky waters in his personal life.

Later in the evening, there was a gentle knock on your bedroom door, and when you opened it, Max stood there with a somewhat downcast expression. “Do you want to do something, watch a movie or something maybe?” He asked, his voice much weaker than usual. You could tell that the earlier argument with Beth was still weighing on his mind. Although you were tired and had been ready to turn in for the night, you couldn't resist the opportunity to lift his spirits.

Seeing the need for a distraction, you smiled warmly at Max and said, "Of course, Max, I'd love to watch a movie with you." Your willingness to spend time with him despite your fatigue was a silent gesture of support, and it brought a grateful smile to his face.

Together, you made your way to the living room, choosing a film that promised both entertainment and distraction and settled into the cozy living room to share another memorable moment. The screen flickered to life, and as the movie started, you both found yourselves lost in the world of the film.

Laughter filled the room as you traded jokes and amusing commentary throughout the movie, creating an atmosphere of joy and connection. Max seemed to have a way of making you laugh, and his infectious humor was a delightful addition to the evening.

As the movie continued, you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and contentment sitting beside him. It was as if the worries and complications of life had momentarily melted away, leaving behind only the warmth of his presence. As the movie rolled on, the comfort of Max's presence began to take hold. The long day had left you weary, and you couldn't help but stifle a yawn. Max, ever attuned to your needs, glanced at you and seemed to understand. Wordlessly, he patted his lap, inviting you to lay your head there. With a grateful nod, you shifted closer, resting your head gently against his thigh. The soft fabric of his jeans felt warm and comforting against your cheek. As the movie's plot unfolded, Max's fingers, now tender and caring, began to play with your hair. The gentle strokes sent a cascade of shivers down your spine, and an unexpected sensation of butterflies fluttered in your stomach.

It was at that moment, as Max's fingers continued their soothing dance, that you began to question the nature of your feelings for him. Were they merely the result of his kindness and care during this challenging time, or was there something more profound at play? Trepidation crept in as you wondered if your feelings for Max were more than just those of a friend. You felt a pang of guilt, he was still with Beth after all. Uncertainty swirled within you as you mustered the courage to speak up.

"Max," you began hesitantly, "I hope I didn't cause any more trouble between you and Beth."

Max, who had been lost in thought, looked down at you, his eyes filled with understanding. He let out a sigh and replied, "It's probably over, Y/N. To be honest, it was never great anyway, which is why we took a break – you know when we-."

You offered an apologetic look, feeling torn between sympathy and concern for your growing feelings. "I'm sorry, Max. I didn't mean to complicate things."

Max's gaze softened, and he reassured you, "Don't worry about it, Y/N. The relationship wasn't very good, even before the break. You're not to blame."

As the movie played on, your head still nestled in his lap and his fingers continuing their gentle caress, you couldn't help but contemplate the complexity of your emotions. With a sense of unease and curiosity, you wondered if Max was becoming more than just a friend to you.

As the weeks turned into months, you couldn't shake the awkwardness that had crept in since you'd started to acknowledge your newfound feelings for Max. Your friendship with him meant the world to you, and you were determined not to jeopardize it. With the baby on the way, you knew you had to prioritize the stability and happiness of your growing family. So, you began to give yourself a bit of space from Max. You kept yourself busy with prenatal classes, doctor's appointments, and preparing for the arrival of your baby. The distraction of these tasks allowed you to maintain a semblance of normalcy in your life, even as your emotions remained tumultuous beneath the surface.

Max was away often for work and training anyway so that provided a convenient buffer and you could tell yourself that the physical distance was for the best, that it helped you maintain control over your feelings. However, as the due date rapidly approached and the Formula One season ended, he was home more often. It became increasingly challenging to avoid him, especially when he was eager to be a part of your pregnancy journey and offer his support.

Despite the swirling emotions within you, you couldn't deny that you still cherished his presence in your life. You wrestled with the guilt of harboring feelings for a man who was going above and beyond to look after you and Little Bump, but you also knew that the priority was providing your baby with a loving and stable environment. Balancing these conflicting emotions was a delicate dance, and as you found yourself spending more time with Max in preparation for the baby's arrival, the challenge of keeping your feelings in check grew more daunting with each passing day.

With your due date beginning to approach, the need to get the nursery ready became ever present so you decided to take on the task of building the flat packed crib that had been sitting in it’s box for the past few weeks. The crib's pieces lay strewn about, and you were carefully studying the instruction manual when Max entered the room. Seeing you hunched over the crib parts, Max immediately expressed his concern, his voice filled with care. "Y/N, you really should be resting right now. Let me handle this for you. You've been working so hard, and I don't want you to overexert yourself."

You appreciated Max's thoughtfulness, but you were determined to see this task through on your own. "Max, I want to do this. I need to know that I can handle things as a mum."

Max respected your determination but didn't want to see you pushing yourself too hard. After a brief back-and-forth, a compromise was reached. You both decided to tackle the crib assembly together, enabling you to feel like you were able to complete the task but also allowing Max to watch over you and ensure you and Little Bump were safe.

As the crib slowly started to take shape, you couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment at the thought of your baby soon resting in it. Max, however, was unusually quiet. His brow furrowed with a deep concern that had been lurking in the corners of his mind. You could sense that something was troubling him, and as you worked together to piece the crib together, you decided to broach the topic gently.

"Max, is everything alright?" you asked, your voice filled with care.

He sighed, setting down a wooden panel for a moment, and looked at you with a mixture of vulnerability and doubt. “I don’t know, I guess I’m just worried. I see the way you talk to your stomach, I know you’re going to be such a good mum to our Little Bump. I just don’t know if I’m going to be a good dad. I know how bad having a shit dad can fuck someone up, I just want more for my kid.”

Your heart ached for Max as you recognized the fear that had been gnawing at him. You set aside your own concerns and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around him in a comforting hug. "Max, the fact that you're so concerned about being a good dad proves that you're already on the right path. You care deeply, and that's the most important thing. We'll learn and grow together as parents, just like we've navigated everything else in our lives. You'll be an amazing dad because you want the best for our baby." Max held you close, his arms encircling you in a tight embrace. Being so close to him maybe wasn’t the best idea, but you could see how much he needed it.

Despite your ever-growing feelings for Max, you kept it to yourself, doing everything you could to ignore the way that you felt about the man you were now preparing to be parents with. Your due date was only weeks away when you started to feel like you were going crazy, so you did what every woman does when she’s dealing with unrequited love, you bore out your entire heart to your best friend whilst eating ice cream by the metric tonne.

“I just don’t know what to do Mia” you told your best friend over the phone one afternoon when Max was out getting supplies to finish decorating the nursery.

“I think you just need to tell him, be completely honest” her words made you sigh.

“Oh yeah so I just go up to him ‘hey Max I know we’re about to be parents and you’ve so kindly let me live in your house but I’m not happy just co-parenting with you, I love you and want to be with you, like a real family” You ranted to Mia but her response to you was cut off by a familiar voice laced with a Dutch accent speaking up.

“What?” Your neck snapped up violently at the sound of his voice, Max stood in the doorway of your bedroom his face painted with a look of shock.

Max's voice, tinged with both surprise and hurt, hung in the air, a heavy silence following his unexpected entrance into the conversation. You turned slowly, the phone clutched in your trembling hand, your eyes meeting his, wide with shock. The room seemed to shrink, and the air grew thick with tension as you realized he had overheard every word. His brows furrowed deeply, and he set the supplies he had been carrying onto the nearby table.

"You... love me?" he asked, his voice shaky as if grappling with the revelation. You nodded, your eyes now glistening with unshed tears, unable to speak. Max took a step closer, his eyes filled with a mixture of emotions, but the one that seemed to dominate was fear. "And you've been keeping this from me... all this time?"

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. "I was scared," you whispered, finally finding your voice. "I didn't want to jeopardize what we have, the baby, our plans. I thought if I kept it to myself, things would be easier."

Max ran a hand through his hair, clearly conflicted. "Easier? Do you think keeping something like this a secret is easier?"

His frustration was apparent, you could hear it as his voice gradually became louder and angrier and you couldn't blame him. You had betrayed his trust, and he had a right to be upset.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you fought to hold them back. "I didn't know how you'd react, Max. I didn't want to push you away, especially not now when we should be focusing on preparing for the baby."

"I understand, but I can't believe you kept something like this from me, especially at a time like this." His voice was laced with frustration, he brought his hand up to his head, running his fingers through his hair

You nodded; your heart heavy with the intensity of his emotions. "I know, Max. I'm sorry; I should've been honest with you."

Max's frustration was apparent as he walked towards the door. "I need some space to think, and I don't know what this means for us right now."

With those words, he left the house, and you were left standing there, engulfed in a sea of turmoil. Panic took hold of you as you realized the enormity of what had just transpired. You had pushed Max away, and now you feared it might be too late to salvage your relationship.

In the wake of Max's departure, the silence in the house became oppressive. Anxiety and self-doubt swirled in your mind, and you couldn't bear to stay there any longer. The urge to seek refuge with your parents, where you could find solace and guidance, became irresistible.

In a manic rush, you hurriedly packed a bag with essentials, your heart racing with every passing second. Tears streamed down your face as you considered the drastic step you were about to take. With trembling hands, you purchased a last-minute plane ticket back to your hometown.

The minutes felt like an eternity, but you were finally on your way to the airport. You left a hurried note for Max, explaining your need to be with family during this turbulent time. With your heart in your throat, you headed to the airport, driven by a frantic need to escape the chaos you had unleashed.

The plane took off, carrying you away from the life you had built with Max, and the turbulence within you mirrored the journey. The fear of losing Max and the desperation for a fresh start with your parents guided you on this unexpected and tumultuous path.

Max returned home the next day, his heart heavy with concern and regret. The house felt emptier than ever, and the silence only intensified his panic. He rushed to find his phone, fingers trembling as he tried to dial your number. But to his dismay, there was no answer on the other end. He left a voicemail, pleading for you to call him back as soon as you could.

In his frantic state, Max's mind raced to find a solution. He knew he needed to find you, to make things right. He decided to call Charles, hoping he might have some insight or connection to your whereabouts.

"Charles," Max said, his voice tight with anxiety, "I need your help. I can't reach Y/N. She's left, and I don't know where she's gone. Do you have Mia's number?"

Charles, understanding the urgency in Max's tone, reluctantly provided Mia's number. Max immediately dialed it and hoped that Mia might have some answers. Mia answered after a few rings, and Max wasted no time

"Mia, it's Max. I can't get through to Y/N. Do you know where she is? I need to talk to her."

Mia's voice held a hint of worry as well. "I haven't heard from her since yesterday either, Max. She seemed really upset when you left. Let me give you her family's number; maybe they know something."

Max was grateful for Mia's help as she provided him with your family's contact information. He dialed the number, his heart pounding in his chest. After a few rings, someone on the other end finally picked up.

"Hello?" a voice answered.

Max didn't waste any time. "Hi, this is Max. I'm looking for Y/N. She left a note saying she was going to see her family, but I haven't heard from her since. Is she with you?"

There was a moment of confusion on the other end, followed by a sense of concern. "Max, I'm sorry, but we haven't heard anything about Y/N planning to visit us. Are you sure she's on her way here?"

Max's panic deepened as he realized you hadn't reached your family, and he had no idea where you were. "I... I don't know. I'm really worried about her. If you hear from her, please let her know I'm looking for her and that I want to talk."

Max hung up the phone, his mind filled with anxiety. He was determined to find you and make things right, but at that moment, he felt utterly lost without any leads to follow.

As Max anxiously paced around the house, his worst fears were consuming him. He kept checking his phone, desperately hoping for a call or message from you. Every moment felt like an eternity, and the silence was deafening.

Then, suddenly, his phone rang. It was your mum. Max's heart pounded in his chest as he answered the call, his voice trembling as he spoke, "Hello?"

Your mum's voice was filled with worry and fear. "Max, it's Y/N’s mum. We just got a call from the hospital. She passed out at the airport, the staff found her and phoned an ambulance. We don't have many details yet, but we're on our way there now."

Max's world seemed to spin as he struggled to process the shocking news. "Is she okay? What happened? The baby?" he stammered.

Your mum's voice cracked with emotion as she replied, "We don't know, Max. They didn't tell us much over the phone. We're on our way to the hospital to find out."

Max hung up the call, his hands shaking. Panic and fear gripped him as he realized the severity of the situation. He couldn't waste another moment. He immediately dialed his private jet service to book a flight to the hospital as soon as possible, not caring about the cost or inconvenience. All that mattered was getting to you and Little Bump

Within minutes, the arrangements were made, and Max was on his way to the airport, his mind filled with a whirlwind of worry and thoughts of you. Time was of the essence, and he could only hope and pray that he would find you safe and sound at the hospital.

Max's heart was racing as he landed and rushed to the hospital your mum had mentioned. Fear and uncertainty gnawed at him as he sprinted through the sterile hospital corridors, the tension in the air growing with each step. He finally found your room, where your parents were anxiously waiting just outside.

Breathing heavily, Max approached them, his voice shaking as he spoke, "What happened? Is she okay?"

Your mum stepped forward; her eyes red-rimmed from worry. "Max, she had a seizure, she had eclampsia, they needed to perform an emergency c-section"

Max's heart seemed to stop for a moment, but he needed to know more. "Is she... Is the baby okay?"

Your dad stepped in, his expression a mix of relief and concern. "Both Y/N and the baby are okay, Max. They're in recovery now."

Max barely let them finish their explanation before he rushed into your room. There you were, sitting in a hospital bed, clearly still groggy from the medications they had administered.

Max's eyes filled with tears as he approached you, his voice choked with emotion. "I was so scared, Y/N. Are you okay? Is the baby okay?"

You blinked at him, your vision still hazy. "Max? What... happened?"

He took your hand gently, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped his eye. "You had a seizure, but you and the baby are okay. That's all that matters."

Max's relief was palpable, and he couldn't stop himself from reaching out to touch your face, his love and concern pouring forth. In that moment, nothing else in the world mattered but the fact that you and the Little Bump.

Max approached the bassinet where the baby lay, his heart pounding with a mixture of trepidation and excitement. With great care, he gently lifted the small, fragile form into his arms. As he cradled the tiny bundle close to his chest, a sense of wonder washed over him.

He peered down at the baby's face, her features so delicate and new. The room seemed to fade away as he focused entirely on this precious, little life he now held in his arms. Max's eyes glistened with tears of joy and awe, his heart overflowing with emotions he had never experienced before.

Every detail of the baby's face captivated him – her button nose, her rosebud lips, and her wisps of soft hair. He marveled at her innocence and vulnerability, realizing that he was now responsible for this tiny, perfect soul.

With quivering lips, Max whispered softly, "You're a girl." The realization of this new chapter in his life, the responsibility of being a father to a daughter, filled him with a profound sense of purpose and love.

He held her close, feeling her small chest rise and fall with each gentle breath. The bond he shared with his newborn daughter was a miracle that left him in awe. In that intimate moment, Max understood the beauty and fragility of life, and he couldn't help but smile, knowing that he was ready to embrace the journey of parenthood with all the love and dedication he could muster.

Max held his precious daughter close, her small form cradled in his arms. He gazed down at her, the overwhelming love he felt for her and for you filling his heart. With a tenderness that could only come from a father's love, he whispered, "I love you, [Your Name]. I love our baby, and I'm so excited to start this new chapter of our lives together as a family, a real family."

He could see that you were still fairly out of it, but he couldn't help but share his feelings in this moment. As he watched the baby's peaceful slumber, he asked, "What should we name her?"

You fought against sleep, your eyelids heavy, but you managed to murmur, "Sophie."

Max's eyes widened with surprise and joy. "Sophie? Like my mum?"

With a weak but loving smile, you nodded. "Yeah, our daughter, Sophie Verstappen."

Max's heart swelled with pride and love as he looked at his newborn daughter, Sophie. In that moment, as you drifted into slumber, he felt a profound sense of gratitude for the family he was building with you, a family that now included the beautiful Sophie Verstappen.

As you drifted off to sleep, with Max sat beside you cradling your new-born daughter in his arms, you couldn't help but reflect on how your life had transformed for the better. It was a change that had been set into motion by just two lines on a pregnancy test. Two lines and your life was completely and irrevocably changed, and you couldn’t be happier.

Taglist-

@sebastiansstanswhore @ironmaiden1313 @itsjustkhaos

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #formula one x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 fanfic

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im-a-hoping-beetch · 1 year ago

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Many people seem to get genuinely confused, whenever we, zutara shippers, mention how underdeveloped kataang really is. Usually, they’ll brush it off as us being delusional, bitter and you know the drill. Their main response to that, usually is: “How, could they possibly be underdeveloped, they had 3 seasons!?!”

The thing is they forget that the amount of time isn’t as important as what you do do with it. Cuz, yeah, Aang and Katara did have 3 seasons, but their relationship still managed to feel rushed as hell. Heck, even Bryke, out of all people, admitted to it. Which mostly as to do with a bunch of things that I’ll get into right now.

Let’s start with the fact that, Katara never actually shows any interest in Aang.

Now, many of y’all will probably come for me by citing how the cave of the two lovers or even the Headband have moments of her showing interest in him, but all of them end up falling flat at some point.

The cave of the two lovers:

The argument here, usually is“if she didn’t have any interest in him, why would she kiss him?” or “why would she blush at the idea of kissing him?”. The former seems to forget this is a life or death situation and that we don’t really know for sure that if there were another way to get out if this, she wouldn’t take it. For the latter, I’d like to say that blushing can have many significations such as, embarrassment. Which, here makes sense when considering what she says and overall demeanour, after suggesting to kiss.

Like yeah, a fourteen year old girl blushing bcz she’s embarrassed at the idea of having to kiss, her friend, out of all things, cuz you know… awkward. Can you imagine that (pun fully intended)???

The headband:

This one is going to be a ride, but stick with me. The arguments can range from “What about her jealousy while Aang is dancing with other girls.” to “What about the way she looks at him during the dance.”

Here, is said jealousy being shown:

And said look being done:

Now, yeah, I can absolutely see why these two exemples would be used as a way to prove her interest, but let me remind you that this is the same episode where we have this happen.

Yeah, the same episode where Katara is acting all jealous and giving flirty looks to Aang is also the same one where she pretends to be is… mother. While, I could go on about how it wasn’t the best idea on the directors or whoever was in charge of the episode part if it was their way of giving a glimpse of Katara being into Aang. The issue is, them doing so wasn’t completely farfetched either, because up until now it’s been established that Katara can be very motherly and she acts that way with almost everyone in the gaang. More specifically, the one with who she does so the most is, Aang.

I mean, even the show makes a point of poking fun at their mother-son dynamic on several occasions all throughout the show (ie. the don’t-rub-your-eyes-when-you’re-speaking scene in “The runaway” episode). So realistically, the two exemples shown way above could somewhat work, but only if you decide to completely ignore what episode they take place in, one that hasn’t really helped at stopping the mother-son dynamic allegations kataang has been getting, for years, now.

So, back to the development aspect, I think it has always been stunted from the beginning, because, fundamentally, the ship as always been designed to be Aang-centric. If you’d like more insight on that I’d recommend checking @starlight-bread-blog’s amazing post on the issue. But also, that their lackluster resolution is way much more obvious, cuz both are leads in the show. Katara's existence in the show, isn't solely there to serve as some love inerest for Aang. Shocker, but she's actually a MAIN CHARACTER in the show, meaning that we spend three seasons where we get to learn about her battles, fears and aspirations, none of which seems to involve a relationship with Aang.

Like yeah, the reason why The Ending Kiss™ feels so unsatisfactory is, simply, because, Katara doesn't like Aang (at least not like that). Katara, likes Aang, because the show said so. Now, stick with me, cuz I can already feel some of y'all ready to jump at the screen. Within the show, name a single moment where she ever comes to thinking of Aang in a romantic way. One that doesn't involve any external sources, such as someone suggesting about it or because of the given circumstances she has to. The answer is none. The only time we ever get to see her voice her ACTUAL opinion about it, this is what she says:

That's not even counting how her overall demeanor, from the body language to her choice of words seems to suggest that she's actually trying to let him down gently. Also, may I remind you that at that point THERE'S ONLY 3 FREAKING EPISODES LEFT BEFORE THE BIG KISS™ and this is where there at in their relationship. Plus, within the 3 episodes that are left WE NEVER GET TO SEE THEM TALK ABOUT IT, EVER!!!

This obviously was part of Bryke’s horrible attempt at the will-they-won’t-they trope. Which ended up playing right in their face, cuz like I mentioned they themselves had to come to glaring realization that kataang was rushed. Now, it could’ve been it, the creators realizing their obvious mistake and if they could, trying to fix it by giving us what seemed like the natural progression of their relationship, which was for it to end.

Instead, we got comics!Katara and oooh boy…

Basically, they decided that they would throw away Katara’s meticulously built characterization in order to make her existence revolve around, Aang. I kid you not, when I say that she isn’t allowed scenes, lines and actions that do not revolve around her “sweetie”.

Remember how I said that, Katara likes Aang because the show runners said so. This is an example of this cranked up to a hundred.

Essentially, when you start thinking about where these two are in terms of growth, kataang is the antithesis to development itself. On one hand it validates the regression of one (ie. the dropped chakra plot line), while simultaneously, having to strip any previously built characterization of the other (ie. comics!katara).

On that note, I’d like to remind people, how important Katara is to the story. Without her, the entirety of the gaang would be dead. Without her, there would be no story. Without her, there would be no Aang.

She deserved to have a voice within her own relationship and not for it to be stolen by two grown men who were still stuck in their childhood fantasy.

She deserved better.

#atla #avatar #anti bryke #avatar the last airbender #anti kataang #zutara #pro katara #katara deserved better

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ramp-it-up · 4 months ago

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ii Most Wanted Part 11: Till the Day I Die (2)

Bless the Broken Road

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup"

Summary: The wedding, along with the nerves, are here!

Word count: 3.5K

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, ANGST, FLUFF. Not much smut at all, sorry. 18 year olds heavy petting, teen hormones, talk of bad dreams, wedding day angst, thoughts of loss, lots of flufffff, 😊.

Sy and Buttercup get married! 👰🏾‍♀️🤵🏻‍♂️

Read at your own risk. Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N: This is the 11th installment of II Most Wanted. These characters won't quit, so this series will be extended to at least 12 installments, but not for much longer than that. Here are the results from the wedding dress poll .

I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Previous part here

May 2004

“We’re both grown ups now, Buttercup.”

Sy’s breath and smooth voice ghosted your ear as he mouthed at your neck and down your collarbone to the tops of your breasts that were threatening to come out of your bra. You shivered, causing him to pull back and check to see if you were cold because you had thrown off your t-shirt. When he saw your lust- dilated eyes, he was lost to your charms.

Sy could tell by your silence that you were in the same zone that he was in; you just couldn’t admit it. He wondered if it was because you were trying to keep your purity, or that you wanted to give it away so badly that you couldn’t formulate words. He got impossibly harder at the thought of the latter. It was just a week after your birthday and two weeks to prom and Sy was back to begging.

He was so weak for you.

“You’re a good girl, I know it, Buttercup.”

You whimpered and kissed him hard, your lips sucking on his tongue while pulling him on top of you and between your jean-clad legs, making Sy realize that him calling you a good girl ignited something inside you. His heart pounded through his ribcage at your response.

When you parted, gasping for air, he moved again, bending his head to gently bite your nipple through your bra and continuing his assault on your mind as you ground on the bulge in his pants. Sy held your hips in his hands, slowing you down lest you cause him to make a mess in his pants.

The now familiar, alluring coil in your belly had been winding you up for a while and you were on the verge of risking it all to get some relief. You and Sy had been physical for weeks, but kissing and heavy petting was as far as it went. He would never allow you to go down on him, although you could tell he was holding back.

His chivalry only made you want him more. But something was causing you to hesitate, despite the fact that Sy was delicious torture and temptation personified.

Tonight, however, he was begging. Artfully. And you were on the edge of giving him everything that he, and you, wanted.

“I have protection. We’ll be so careful, Buttercup. Nothing will happen. Except… except I’ll make you feel real good. I promise. Please.”

His hands moved up your torso, grasping your ribcage as he continued his rationale.

“You already know I’m gonna marry you, girl. It’s a done deal.”

You melted at his deep drawl in your ear, and his touch on your skin, but you chuckled at him, giving him pause.

“Sy…You couldn’t decide what you wanted for dinner. How do you know you want to spend the rest of your life with me? We’ve been together, what? Four months?”

Being the new girl sucked, but when your two new besties, Carla and Tiffani, ratted you out to Sy and gave him your number right after the homecoming dance when he broke up with Becca, you were mad. They had no right to tell your secret.

But you were pleasantly surprised and shocked as hell when he actually called you a week later.

Everyone thought the pairing was odd; you were so different but shared the same heartbeat. You talked for hours about life, the universe, and everything, and you loved rolling through town in the passenger seat of Sy’s 1978 Ford Bronco with the loud muffler, making waves in the wind with your empty hand, your other hand on him. Sometimes you flipped off the haters that loved to talk shit, but mainly you just waved at those who stopped and stared.

You didn’t give a shit, and Sy didn’t either.

That’s why you loved him. People said you were too young, but yes. You were in love with Jake Syverson.

Even though you were lying In the bed of the Bronco with your shirt off, Sy stopped trying to get into your pants, shifted beside you and stared. Cerulean blue orbs held you captive.

“I knew what I wanted you the moment you walked into English class with that Powerpuff Girls shirt on and that scowl on your face. I knew you were mine. Trust me, Buttercup. I know you feel it too. I’m yours. ‘Til the day I die.”

You shivered as you stared at him. You didn’t trust many people in your life, but if you trusted anyone, it would be Sy. You took a deep breath and searched his face for deception. It wasn’t there. He already had your soul; you were about to give him your body.

Sy saw the moment you made your decision and was shook. This wasn’t going to be some simple fun in the back of Betty. This was forever. He considered you. The hot, innocent look of desire that made him rock hard also made him feel guilty. He knew what you’d been through and the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt you. Sy wanted this to be your decision, and you weren’t ready tonight before he sweet talked you. All of a sudden, it just didn’t seem right. His hand came up and traced your cheek down to your lips.

“You’re so beautiful. I love you Buttercup.”

You flushed, and a warm sensation was building in your chest at his gentle whisper.

Is really this what true love felt like?

Before you could respond, Sy pulled you closer, and reached into the backseat for his letterman jacket to cover you from the chilly night air.

He leaned down and kissed your forehead and nuzzled your hair as he held you close.

“Drivin’ me crazy, but I will wait forever for you, Buttercup.”

You melted into him when you realized that he was pumping the brakes. You soon noticed that he was still semi-hard beneath your thigh, which was thrown across his hips. You reached down to grasp him.

“Poor Sy…”

Sy caught your hand in his and interlaced his fingers with yours instead.

“Prom night?”

You nodded and bit your lip, looking up at him through your lashes. A low growl emitted from your boyfriend.

“I must be really in love, ‘cause I just cock-blocked my damn self.”

You shook with laughter as Sy grumbled. He handed you your shirt back and took in what he could of your flesh as you covered up, licking his lips as he memorized you for when he was alone in his room later.

You grinned at him.

“Maybe so, Captain Syverson.”

He smacked your bottom as you climbed back into the passenger seat. Sy loved it when you called him Captain.

He climbed out of the gate and stepped out into the chilly night to get back to the driver’s seat and took a deep breath, then shook his head as he looked up at the stars. Sy smiled at the thought of his grandmother’s ring.

Suddenly, a plan formed in his mind.

You and he would go to State, you with his ring, a promise, on your finger, and him with his heart on his sleeve. He’d propose with a rock the summer before senior year and marry you the week after college graduation, living happily ever after.

Sy grinned at the perfection of it all as he climbed back into the Bronco and gave you a kiss before he peeled off the Lookout.

—--

Sy woke up with a start the next morning. He looked around confused, not recognizing his surroundings as he tried to wake up fully. He hadn’t had a dream like it in months, since he was newly retired.

But this dream wasn’t about war; in this dream, he’d lost you again.

He sat on the edge of the bed, regret about so much time was wasted swirling around him. Then he sighed and reached for his phone, finding a treasure trove of pictures of you and your friends. His heart rate calmed and his face cracked into a smile as he discovered that you had messaged him genuine joy.

No use in mourning the past, Sy thought.

You’d stopped sending pictures around 11:56 pm, because it was your wedding day, you explained, and his heart exploded when he read that.

You were still his girl, and he was gonna marry you.

He texted you good morning before he put down his phone and stared at the ceiling.

It was his fucking wedding day.

Sy jumped out of bed and was on the road to Vegas by 6 am.

—-

The next afternoon after a 24 hour whirlwind of pure fun with your friends, you smiled up at the photographer as you carefully adjusted the lace garter around your leg.

You were in love with your dress, your shoes, and especially your hair. Tiffany had been right to encourage you to get a Vegas blowout. You felt like a model. The camera clicked away as you beamed into the lens.

“Beautiful, now let's get a shot with the bridesmaids.”

Carla and Tiffani gathered close and smiled. This intimate ceremony would be the perfect wedding for you and Sy. And that was all that mattered.

After the pictures, you got yourself from your suite to the limo just in time to make the booking at A Little White Wedding Chapel on the other end of the strip. You were serene, and happy that you didn’t need to stuff a monster gown into the car.

During the drive, you looked out of the window and remembered your mother, who had been alive at the time of your first wedding. You allowed yourself a moment of sadness.

Carla leaned over to you.

“We got your back if you want to run.”

You looked back at her and smiled.

“It’s okay. Sy is who and what I want. I’m good. Really good.”

Tiffany spoke up.

“Okay. Just remember, we’re always here for you.”

You became even more emotional.

“I know.”

You smiled at both of them, near tears.

“But you better not make me ruin my makeup, bitches.”

You all laughed, the mood lightened.

—-

Jacob Syverson had been waiting for this day for a long, long time.

He didn’t think it would come this soon.

Or all this time later.

Hell, there was a time that he never thought he’d see you again.

He’d arrived at the chapel a little early, not wanting to wait to take you as his bride. As he got ready in the groom’s room, he eyed his blue checked sport coat and blue polka dot tie with matching pocket square that he had picked out. He knew that they brought out his eyes. He fiddled with his curls and smoothed down his beard, staring at himself in the mirror, almost in disbelief.

Was this really happening?.

From the moment he saw you when he was 17 years old, he’d wanted you to be his.

And now it was about to happen.

Sy suddenly couldn’t breathe and he was weak, sweat popping out on his forehead. The tie was too tight. He loosened the tie and unbuttoned the top button of the shirt, hands seemingly a blur in the mirror. He shook his head to clear it, and looked back up into his own eyes long and hard, asking himself if he was really ready to be your husband.

He knew he wanted this, but today he was scared shitless.

—----

The doors of the chapel opened, and you stood around the corner, hidden from view as your friends preceded you down the aisle. You peeked around the corner to catch a glimpse of him at the end of the aisle, and saw a flash of blue at the altar.

There was Sy, so handsome in a blue sportcoat and polka dot pocket square, chuckling and shaking his head at something Carla did as she walked toward him, then he smiled wide at Tiffani. You straightened up when his eyes found the closing doors, your heart pounded as you hid from his view.

Were you really going to do this?

—----

Sy’s throat went dry as he stared at the doors at the back of the chapel. His hands began to shake causing him to clasp them in front of him as he waited.

In a flash, the doors were open again and there you were a vision in satin and lace, but not a lot of it. The sun shone behind you and he nearly fainted as he admired the view through your dress.

You glowed like an angel.

You paused and the music began. He barely registered the familiar notes of the song because suddenly, his head was swimmy again.

He took a deep breath and got himself together, staring at you wide eyed as you slowly moved toward him, with that smile on your face.

At that moment, there was only one woman in the world, and you were walking toward him.

—--

The doors of the chapel opened again and you had tunnel vision for Sy at the end of the aisle. Your heart leapt in your throat and you tried to swallow it down when all you could hear were the opening notes of the music you and Sy claimed as your song all those years ago.

You didn’t realize how much more accurate the lyrics were twenty years later.

I set out on a narrow way many years ago

Hoping I would find true love along the broken road

But I got lost a time or two

Wiped my brow and kept pushing through

I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you

You smiled and paused, eyes having found Sy’s and locked in. You were trembling and took a deep breath before walking toward him.

—---

It seemed that you moved toward him in slow motion, and Sy felt that he was in a dream, staring at you in disbelief. There you were, all long, flowy hair around your shoulders and that satin baby doll dress with lace trim adorning your curves perfectly.

Sy gazed at you, taking you in from your cute white toenails in your high heeled sandals up those curvaceous legs and thighs to the short, flowy skirt that swished around the swell of your hips to the fitted waist. He licked his lips as he hallucinated seeing your nipples through the rushed satin bust of the bodice, and almost passed for the third time when one of the lace straps fell down your shoulder.

The dress was everything, and he was gonna make love to you in it later on.

His eyes moved upwards, reading the name on the gold necklace that was his gift to you, and that was nestled on your chest. Sy looked back up at you smiling knowingly back at him, and suddenly, he was calm although there were tears streaming down his face.

That every long lost dream led me to where you are

Others who broke my heart, they were like Northern stars

Pointing me on my way into your loving arms

This much I know is true

That God blessed the broken road

That led me straight to you

—---

As you moved, speeding down the aisle it seemed, you realized that you were smiling through your own tears. Sy broke your heart once, but you both were idiot kids in love, and who knows if you would have made it that young anyway?

The way this happened was meant to be, this moment was perfect, and it was now.

—--

I think about the years I spent just passin' through

I'd like to have the time I lost and give it back to you

But you just smile and take my hand

You've been there, you understand

It's all part of a grander plan that is coming true

It seemed like it would take ten more years for you to reach him at the altar and Sy felt a pang of regret at the lost time. But then he remembered that you were walking towards him, right here, right now. You were choosing him. The past was over. It was time to make a new future.

—--

You floated down the aisle, and in no time you were standing beside Sy at the altar, no recognition of how you arrived in this instant bubble between you two.

Sy stared at you, as if surprised to find you there, then smiled as you wiped his tears away with your fingers.

“Hi,” you whispered, smiling as Sy chuckled and took his pocket square out to dab at your face.

“You look so handsome.”

Sy smiled, wanting to take you in his arms.

“Hey, Buttercup. You look gorgeous.”

You shivered as his eyes assessed you, your belly flipping as his gaze covered your entire form. You grew warm and wanted to kiss him, but he gave you a look and you decided to behave.

He held his hand out for yours, eyes sparkling.

The electricity that buzzed around you when you were near him was back, and you knew that you wanted this feeling forever. Sy’s patient gaze made you smile wider at how much he loved you.

In that instant, you knew beyond a doubt.

You stared at him, taking in his face, the woodsy scent of his cologne, how huge he was in front of you. Then you sighed, nodded (to yourself really) and gave Sy your hand, which he held in his and caressed with his thumb. Shivers ran down your spine, yet you managed to stay upright.

—--

And now I'm just a-rollin' home

Into my lover's arms

This much I know is true

That God blessed the broken road

That led me straight to you

The officiant cleared their throat and you all looked their way.

“Have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage today?"

Sy answered first, smiled, looked at you and said, “Yes.”

You smiled back and without hesitation, said, “Yes.”

“Will you love and honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?”

“Yes.”

“Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands, and declare your consent before these witnesses.”

Everyone laughed because you were already holding hands.

You wrote your vows together, so you knew what was coming. But you weren’t ready. The tears started again.

Sy spoke, his voice never wavering.

“I take you Y/N Y/LN to be my wife. I promise to be with you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse. I promise to take care of you and to share with you and be straight with you and to always shelter you with my love. I will always come after you and I will always help you to look up when you are feeling down. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.

Until the day I die.”

Your eyes overflowed, but you remained strong.

“I, Y/N Y/LN, take you, Jacob Allen Syverson to be my husband. I promise to be with you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse. I promise to care for you and be straight with you and to share with you and to always shelter you with my love. I will not seek to run from you and I will always hold you down while you lift me up. And I will love you and honor you all the days of my life. Until the day I die.”

Sy grinned at you and your stomach flipped with excitement as Carla and Tiffani awwed.

The officiant continued.

“You have declared your consent before these witnesses. What has been joined together, let no man divide. May these rings be a symbol of your true faith in each other, and always remind you of your love.”

You turned to Carla for Sy’s ring, a simple gold band, and you slipped it on his finger. Sy turned to Tiffani and your eyebrow shot up as she reached into a pocket in her dress and handed him a black box. Out came his grandmother’s ring, only now there was another ring that was paired with it, beautifully heavy with diamonds.

Your mouth hinged open in shock.

Sy was grinning at your reaction as he slid the rings onto your finger, pretty pleased with himself you could tell.

“Told you I would marry you with a bigger ring than that. Told you that a long time ago.”

He looked up at you with those baby blues and winked at you as your knees got weak. You looked around at your friends who were obviously in on it.

“Don’t worry, they’re conflict-free.”

Carla stage whispered and everyone laughed as you shook your head and held your hand up to the light before Sy captured it in his own again. He was feeling like the man at that moment, and you almost forgot there was anyone else in the room as you gazed up at him. Electricity zapped between you, and you were ready to take him down.

The officiant cleared their throat again.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

There was a pause as you both looked at them with anticipation. They smiled back, knowing what you wanted.

“You may now kiss your bride!”

Sy let out a whoop and pulled you in for a kiss, taking you into a dip and causing hoots, hollers, and cheers.

“May I now introduce Mr. Jacob and Mrs. Buttercup Syverson!”

You burst out into laughter as Sy led you back down the aisle, fingering the gold name necklace which said ‘Mrs. Buttercup.’

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