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theagstd · 2 days ago

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One Night Stand ; 39

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

→ Jungkook x y/n

→ contains smut, fluff and angst

→ Chapter thirty nine ; wc | 5.8 k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

Jungkook watches the steady rise and fall of your chest, adored by the peaceful look on your sleeping face. He's seen you asleep countless times, yet this morning feels different—

you're glowing more than ever. He likes to think it's because of him, that he's responsible for both the afterglow and the glow of pregnancy. He's lost track of time, aware only that he's been lying here well past his work hours.

With the tension from your recent fight, he's missed Saturday at the office and hasn't checked his emails, too stressed to focus. He knows he should get up and work, but how can he pull himself away when you're so beautifully asleep on his chest?

his eyes move around your face, taking in your features. the length of your eyelashes, your perfectly sculpted nose and your pouty lips that part just slightly with each quiet breath. your hand rests on his naked chest under your cheek he knows will leave red imprints on your pale skin.

his fingertips reach to tuck the baby hair behind your ears, and slowly he allows himself to do this action. you hum at the contact of his warm skin on your cold face as you push yourself closer and deeper into him, even though that's impossible when you're already so close to him.

he smiles at that, it makes you look like a baby laying on him. he doesn't want to wake you up but his duties call for him, although he doesn't really give a damn about it since he's so caught up in this beautiful dream with you, he must go. "baby.." He whispers, hoping to wake you up nice and easy.

You hum a little, shifting around, your hand searching for something he can't quite figure out. He looks at you, a bit confused, as your fingers keep roaming across his chest. Gently, he rests his hand on your arm, and you grab it, tucking it under your neck like it's the most natural thing.

Jungkook can't help but laugh, totally charmed by how cute you are. "Baby....i've got to go." he murmurs and you whine like a child. "I don't want to leave you too but.. i have to." "stay.." you mumble and he pouts. he wishes he could, he wants to, so badly.

"I'll be back soon, I promise." he drapes his arm around you and caresses your naked back. your skin so smooth and soft, he loves touching you, he could do it all day. "promise?" you ask. you're still half asleep, you have no idea what you're mumbling but you know you're being a whiny mess. "I promise, darling."

he places a kiss on your temple, his nose touching yours, and he lets himself stay like that for some time. "when you get back..." " mm?" "can you get me some strawberry tanghulu?" you ask and he frowns as he detaches his face from yours to look at you. "tanghulu?" "mm hmm, I saw them in my dream."

"them?" "them...they were dancing tanghulu's- before you laugh at my face! I don't know why it came to life." you say, your tone growing sharper, almost defensive. But that only makes Jungkook laugh harder, especially since your voice went up an octave as you tried to sound serious even though you're sleepy.

"alright, i'll get them for you." your eyes flutter slowly as you open them wide to look at him. his galaxy orbs stare at you while he bites on the inside of his cheek, making that dimple you love more visible. you lift your head to see him, a small smile plays on your lips as your eyes slowly drift shut, the exhaustion pulling you back under.

You can barely fight it, wishing you could fast-forward to nightfall and sink into sleep all over again. "you're tired, sleep. I'll be back soon. you won't even feel it." "but i will. you're so warm-" you hug him tighter as you press your head inside his neck.

"and it will be so cold when you leave." you continue. you're being extra clingy and it's something he hasn't really seen. you're fond of touch and being around him but, this clingy? he thinks he's unlocked a different side of you and he loves it so much more. "i know baby. wait for me okay."

you nod as he places a kiss on your forehead and runs his fingers in your hair. "i think it's because i haven't slept well the past two days." he hums and says 'me too.' Jungkook forces himself to get off the bed, he's fully aware that if he spends another minute with you he's not gonna be able to pull away.

he takes a warm shower after he chooses his suit for the day. he walks out of the washroom with a towel draped around him and then puts on his shirt and trousers. you've wrapped your hands around his pillow still dozing off. he oils his hair then proceeds to button up his shirt and do his tie.

He can't take his eyes off you, wondering why he hadn't done this sooner—why he hadn't let you sleep next to him in his bed, in his room. You just look so right here, like you belong. He swears he's never seen anyone look so beautiful. It's like you're the light his darkroom was missing, like you complete it in a way he didn't even know he needed.

he walks over to you while he fastens the buttons on his wrist as he leans closer to your face. "i'm leaving baby. take care okay." "mm hmm." "have your meds and text me if you need anything." "okay.." he places a peck on your nose and smiles as he grabs his coat and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him.

This morning, Jungkook feels like an entirely new person, and it's all because of you. Arguing with you had drained the life out of him, and only now does he realize how weak he'd been over the past two days. The workload he's facing is intense, he should be feeling stressed and anxious.

Yet, as he sits in the back seat with his driver taking him to the office, he has a foolish grin on his face, replaying memories of last night and how beautiful you look today. he sighs as he leans his head back on the seat and he prepares himself to face the work that waits for him.

He also recalls the visit to your parent's place and makes a mental note to book the tickets this week.

;

You're woken by the restless, uncomfortable movements of your baby, who refuses to let you sleep on your left side. Turning to the right is a struggle too, with the weight of your belly, so you decide to get up. The pillows still carry Jungkook's scent, and for some reason, it makes you giggle like a lovesick girl.

Now and then, you take a small sniff, smiling as you relax. Maybe starting today, you'll see him try to love this baby as much as you do. You really hope he does. you pull yourself out of his soft bed and walk back to your room. you're greeted by Bam who sleeps on the bed, he lifts his head up when he senses you entering and immediately runs over to you.

"ohhh Bammie! i've missed you." you speak to the Doberman who twirls around your feet as if he's meeting you after weeks. "i'll be right back okay." he barks at you and you give him a little pat before you grab your outfit and walk into the washroom.

you freshen up and relax on your couch as Bam sits beside you waiting for his pets. Maya knocks on your door and you give her your brightest smile. "good morning y/n.." "morning Maya!" She walks over and gives you a quick pat on the head, taking a moment to notice the charming changes in your features.

Your smile is wider, your eyes are bright and full of excitement, and your voice is lively and high-pitched. the old woman knows everything has been settled and she couldn't have been happier about it. "I'm starving... could you maybe get me something sweet for breakfast?" you ask, and she clasps her hands together in delight.

"Absolutely! I'll be right back with something freshly made." Maya's over the moon that you've asked her for something sweet—her specialty. It's been a while since anyone has requested this; her children live far away, and she hasn't seen her grandchildren in a long time.

Living alone, she's thrilled to have someone to cook for again. Feeding people is her passion, and having the chance to prepare a meal for a pregnant woman feels like a true blessing. It's not like Maya hasn't been cooking for you, she makes something for you every day. But it's always savory, a wrap or a sandwich, never anything sweet.

You're finishing up a book, but after so much reading and TV, you're starting to feel restless. You want something fun to do, but you're also too tired to move around much. Your gaze drifts over to the baby clothes still in their plastic bag. You've only bought a few things so far; there's so much more to get, and the thought of going baby shopping again excites you.

Maybe this time Jungkook could come along? Although Hoseok was amazing, too. he was not only curious but also wildly enthusiastic. You realize you haven't texted him since last evening, so you check your phone. Sure enough, he's left you a bunch of messages, mostly asking you about how you're feeling.

he's a good friend, he checks up on you and the baby and always leaves you smiling. Hoseok's a true friend, and you know you should keep him forever. While replying to his texts, your mom's call comes through, so you answer. "Y/N! How are you, darling?"

she greets you warmly. "I'm feeling the best! How are you and Dad?" you reply. "Oh, we're doing well! I was thinking, when are you coming to visit us? You always say 'soon,' but you never tell us when." You hum, then answer, "Probably next week? I want to see you too."

She immediately responds, "Come, then! Oh, and I have something to tell you." You sense she's going to bring up someone. "What now, Mom?" "Jessica, your dad's cousin's daughter—remember her?" You can barely recall, but you go along.

"Yeah, what about her?" "She dropped by with gifts to celebrate her twins! She looks so beautiful in her pregnancy; she's glowing!" You stiffen, rolling your eyes at the thought of what they might say about you. "Wow... I'm so happy for her,"

you respond as she continues to talk about them and how your relatives are doing although you don't really bother about them at all. your responses go as a hum or a yeah or wow without indulging too much with it. you look over at Bam and he tilts his head with his round eyes and you copy him and mouth blah blah blah while patting the dog's body.

Maya walks in with a warm smile, carrying a plate decorated with something so delicious and beautifully presented. "Mom, I'll talk to you later—uh, I've got to catch up on something," you say, waiting until she declines the call.

You sit up, folding your feet underneath you, eagerly waiting for Maya to place the plate on the coffee table. "I hope you enjoy a well-done French toast and berry compote," she says. Your mouth parts in awe as you look at how elegantly she's decorated the plate—almost like a dish for MasterChef. "This looks so stunning! It's too perfect to eat!" you exclaim, marveling at the effort she put into the details.

"This makes me feel like it's Christmas!" you add, pouting in delight. Maya is thrilled by your reaction, thinking the time she spent on this dish was more than worth it. "Enjoy, dear!" she says happily. "Thanks, Maya, you remind me of my late grandmother..."

you whisper the last few words, but the old woman catches on. "She must've loved you so much," she says softly. You sigh, leaning back, memories of your beloved grandmother flooding your mind. She used to make her famous apple cinnamon rolls just for you, even though your mother would scold her for spoiling your teeth.

But you both would do it secretly when your parents were out at work, and it was just the two of you. Maya realizes that you share a special bond with your grandmother and expresses her hope of creating a meaningful connection with you as well.

She knows how deeply Jungkook loves you—she can feel it, understanding how hard it has been for him to open up and love again after years of guarding his heart. But with you, it's different. She can see the love you both share, and she eagerly awaits the day those feelings are fully confessed, believing that when that happens, the house will be filled with joy, warmth, and laughter.

"Oh darling, I'm honored that I remind you of your grandmother," Maya says softly. "Maybe you could tell me more about her and the food she used to make for you. I'm a grandmother too, you know. I love my grandkids, but they live so far away...." You find it sad that many grandchildren don't get to spend time with their grandparents. It feels like an essential part of growing up—the love, care, and cultural heritage that only grandparents can pass on.

It makes you reflect on your own family, realizing with a pang of sadness that your children might miss out on those special experiences once your parents are no longer around since you're settled in Korea and them in Canada. "Maybe I could share those experiences with you," Maya offers gently.

"You're like a child to me, too." Looking at her, you notice how beautiful she is, her gentle features and the way her sagging skin crinkles into a heartwarming smile. Her warmth and the kindness in her voice feel so grandmotherly, exactly what you need in this moment. "Thank you, Maya,"

you respond with a smile. "I'd love that!" she leaves after a moment of silence. You quickly grab your phone to snap a picture of the beautiful dish and the moment, adding a little heart to the image before posting it on Instagram. You smile at how adorable it looks. Then, you take a bite of the thick brioche French toast—nothing like the typical, thin slices.

The warm berry compote, creamy whipped cream, and delicate dusting of icing sugar send you straight to heaven. The softness of the toast, the perfect balance of sweetness and tartness from the compote, and the airy cream combine in a way that's even better than you expected. It's so delicious,

you know it's something you'll be craving again soon. Jungkook replies to your story and that's something that happened for the first time because you haven't posted anything for a long time.

Jungkook replied to your story ; you're eating all that without me?

you giggle at his reply. Somehow everything feels different today, you know why yet you like to keep it a mystery.

; you left me so you don't get any.

J ; i didn't leave you hun, i was forced to!

; anyway... you did so :(

J ; i like it when you're whiny

; i think i'm coming out of my character, i should go back to being annoying

J ; omfg NO.

he's so cute that he leaves you all giddy. you can't wait for him to come home, you miss him so much that it hurts. Jungkook, on the other hand, has been having a rough day and even weird that his staff gave him a look whenever he made eye contact with them, but every text you send him brings him a sense of calm.

You're his safe haven, the missing piece he didn't know he needed, and he feels it deeply. Work has been a struggle lately, adding to his stress. So, when he hears a knock on his door, he calls out, "Come in," without thinking. His eyes land on the man standing before him, and after a double take, he lets out an angry sigh. "What are you doing he—" "What are these pictures?"

the orange-haired man cuts Jungkook off, tossing an envelope of photos onto his desk. Jungkook grabs it, irritated, and opens it. As he pulls out the pictures, he realizes they're of moments he never knew were captured.

His eyes widen at the photos of him holding you at the picnic, kissing you, and even some from your trip to Paris—the greasy pizza he warned you not to eat, and shots from the business party he attended in France. "You're doing the exact same thing Taehyung was doing, and now it's fine with you?"

Yoongi questions, leaning against the table. Jungkook stares at the photos, alarmed and confused. Who could have taken these secret pictures of you both? Jungkook hadn't fully registered Yoongi's words, but when they finally sank in, his eyes snapped up, seething. "Say that again," he demanded.

Yoongi took a breath and repeated himself. With that, Jungkook rose from his seat, his glare icy. "Don't you dare compare me to that bastard!" "Kook, if you're doing the same thing, what difference is there between you two?" "I don't take advantage of women! You know me! How could you even—"

"How could you think so low of me?" he asked quietly, disappointment thick in his tone. Yoongi smiled bitterly, looking down. "You think I haven't heard the rumors? Don't you think I read the magazines? Think I don't read the magazines or keep up with what you do?" He took in the success surrounding him as he stepped closer to Jungkook.

"If you knew so much about me, why would you hide?" Jungkook shot back. "That's not the point, Jungkook! What matters is what you do now—" "I don't sleep around anymore!" Jungkook yelled, closing the distance between them until they were almost chest-to-chest. Yoongi held his ground, determined not to let this turn into a physical fight.

He knew Jungkook's strength and his temper; so he kept his voice steady, refusing to escalate things. "that's not what the pictures say? i can't believe you got some women pregnant when you were so against t-"

"It's my wife!" Jungkook snapped, the words cutting through the room.

Yoongi's frown deepened, studying Jungkook's expression, searching for any sign of truth in his words. Jungkook exhaled sharply, finally stepping back from Yoongi and sinking into his chair. He rested his elbows on the table, hiding his face in his hands. He hadn't meant to reveal it like this;

he knew he had to say something, but he hadn't expected it to come out in such a raw, exposed way. the older's lips part as he tries to take it in but he can't. he thinks he may have misheard it. "what?!" he asks and hears jungkook whine. "she's...not my wife but she's my- everything." Jungkook mutters under his breath, never expecting to admit this out loud, especially not to someone he'd looked up to for so long.

Yoongi takes a closer look at the pictures. He can't make out the woman's face clearly, but he notices how her bump grows in each photo. "When... when did this happen? How did you—" "It's... different now. I haven't been with anyone else since," Jungkook says quietly. Yoongi can hardly believe it.

After years of Jungkook being caught up in one scandal after another, he hadn't even realized that phase had come to an end. Spending time away, he'd only seen pictures of Jungkook and some pregnant woman circulating online, and he was worried Jungkook might've been making another mistake. He didn't want to see him go down that road.

"Kook..." Yoongi says softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. When he looks at Jungkook's face, he sees tears brimming in his eyes. "I was... worried when I saw these in the media." Yoongi turns back to the photos, feeling a bit relieved. Your face isn't visible in any of them—hidden by a kiss here, taken from behind there, or perfectly covered by a pizza slice.

Jungkook nods at the older words as he makes a mental note to check social media when he's free. Jungkook hadn't noticed anything was off, even though people in the building had given him strange looks as he walked to his office. "So... how is she?"

Yoongi asks, curious. Jungkook rarely talks about his relationships, so Yoongi wants to know if this is really something serious. Jungkook's face softens, and a faint smile appears as his eyes light up just thinking about you. "She's..." he trails off, mumbling, then gets quiet. Yoongi holds back a smile. "She's the one,"

Jungkook finally says, his voice low but certain. Yoongi takes a seat across from him, waiting for Jungkook to say more, but he doesn't. After a beat, he asks gently, "And... the pregnancy?" Jungkook shifts uncomfortably. The way he met you, and how things unfolded—it wasn't exactly a fairy tale.

"i met her at a club..." Yoongi senses he's touching on a sensitive topic when he notices Jungkook's hesitation, so he keeps his tone light. "How many months along is she?" Jungkook's pulse quickens, panic bubbling up—he doesn't actually know. He has no real details about his child, and that realization brings a wave of anger and sadness.

Yoongi frowns, noticing Jungkook gulp and crack his knuckles. "She's about... six months along," he answers quickly, making it clear he doesn't want more questions, and Yoongi catches the hint. "Great, I'm happy for you both," Yoongi nods, giving Jungkook a steady look before getting to his feet.

"I'll head out, then..." Jungkook nods, and as Yoongi heads to the door, he pauses. "I hope we can catch up again sometime. Start fresh, if you're open to it... things have changed. Maybe we can all be better, too."

He offers a tight smile, then steps out of the room. Jungkook lets out a deep breath, sinking into his chair as he covers his face with his hands. No matter what Yoongi says, he knows he could never go back to them. Things may have changed, but the past is still there, unerasable—and he isn't ready to let it go.

Yoongi's presence stirs up his frustrations, yet there's a part of him that misses seeing him, the familiarity of having him around, even with all the weight of old memories. he may have changed in some ways, but he still wears the same comfortable sweaters and shirts, and he still speaks with his usual wisdom.

Outwardly, nothing seems different, except for the relationship that no longer exists between them. He pauses to breathe, feeling the stress build as worries about his image and the latest rumors churn in his mind. He's especially concerned about what people might be saying about you.

When he picks up his phone and checks Twitter, he sees the same photos Yoongi had left on his desk now posted online, along with captions like:

"Is the CEO of Jeon Industries going to be a father?"

"Is CEO Jeon Jungkook involved in another affair?"

He tosses his phone aside and gulps, his heart sinking. Rumors are one thing, but rumors involving you? That's something he can't stand. He needs to protect you.

;

Your next appointment is in two weeks, marking your eighth month of pregnancy—so close to labor now. You still don't know the baby's gender, but you aren't too curious; whether it's a boy or a girl doesn't really matter to you. All you want is a healthy baby, and you feel confident that will be the case.

As you watch the clock tick, you browse baby clothing websites, filling your cart with favorite outfits to choose from later. You're pretty sure you've added over 250 items by now, but who can resist when everything is so cute? Regardless of gender, you don't plan to stick to traditional colors ;

blue isn't just for boys, and pink isn't only for girls. After all, color doesn't define gender. Bam has been in a playful mood ever since he laid eyes on you. He jumps around, circles you, and constantly licks you, overflowing with affection. Your love for this dog is indescribable, and you can't wait to see the bond that will form between him and your baby.

After Jungkook shared his fears and expressed his desire to try, you're convinced that this has a real chance. You're not alone in this, and neither is your child. If Jungkook wants to make this a family, you're ready to embrace it with open arms, it's what you want, too. So, when you come across videos of dogs bonding with babies, you watch in awe, dreaming of that special connection for your own child and Bam. "aren't you a good boy Bammie?"

The Doberman gets so excited when you call him by the nickname you chose that he practically demands your attention, even while you're already petting him and talking to him. "Oh, you're such a good boy!" you coo, "and me?" just then, you hear Jungkook's voice as he approaches, setting his bag down by the couch.

After shrugging off his coat and washing up, he heads toward you, a warm grin on his face. "What about you?" you tease, noticing how his presence sparks a surge of energy within you. He's home, and he's getting closer, his eyes fixed on you with that look you love. He glances at you sitting comfortably in a fitted vest, your chest and baby bump so prominent, it's a sight he can't get enough of.

He gives Bam a gentle pat, motioning for the dog to move, then settles beside you. "Am I a good boy?" he asks, dimples showing as he bites his lip, watching you with those soft, round eyes. After a long, stressful day, being here with you fills him with the peace he's been craving. "Hmm," you murmur, moving your face closer to his, studying his tired features;

his slightly droopy eyes show his fatigue, yet the way he looks at you and smiles reveals he's still present. "You're okay. Not amazing, but not terrible," you say, tracing his jawline with your fingers. His eyes stay locked on your lips as you speak. After last night, Jungkook senses that there's more between you both. "Is that so?" he whispers, leaning in. "Yes..."

you hum, surprised when he softly kisses your lips. The touch relaxes you, like you've waited for it for days, not hours. "I missed you," he murmurs, nudging his nose against yours. "Mm-hmm, me too..." you respond, fingers tapping on his smooth skin as you admire him. He gazes at you a moment, then clicks his tongue and looks away, asking,

"Which city do your parents live in?" "Toronto." "Thought so. I'll book the tickets then." You smile and nod, feeling slightly anxious. "For when?" "This Friday sound good?" he asks. "Yes." Jungkook picks up his phone, texting someone as he talks to you. "Let your parents know, then." "Okay..."

Your voice drops, and he notices, turning off his phone to look at you. "Nervous? Not sure what to expect?" he asks softly. You nod, eyes fixed on your bump, fingers tracing patterns on the couch fabric. "Hey..." he places a comforting hand over yours. "It'll be alright." You give him a tight smile and nod. "By the way... how far along is she?" he asks suddenly, surprising you.

"She's seven months now—almost eight in two weeks." Jungkook's eyes widen; it hits him just how close you are to the due date. "Wow..." he chuckles, realizing he'd guessed wrong when talking to Yoongi. Curious, you ask, "Why a 'she' now? Last night you called the baby a 'he.' What do you think the gender is?"

Instinctively, you feel it's a girl, but you want to know his thoughts. He hums, thinking aloud as he glances down at your bump, trying to decide. "I think... boy. But—" "But?" you prompt as he hesitates, his hand trembling as he reaches to place it on your bump, only to pull back and place it on your palm instead.

You guide his hand to rest over your bump, holding it there. He hesitates but eventually relaxes into the touch. "But...?" you ask again, watching him. He looks down, then smiles softly. "I want her." You blush at his words, the pink in your cheeks spreading across your face, making him smile.

He loves seeing you like this, and now that he's working on himself and the bond the three of you share, he realizes he's becoming a little obsessed with making you happy. "I want her too..." you murmur. "Looks like we're both on team girl, huh?" he replies, rubbing your bump and lingering, secretly hoping he'll feel a little kick. His gaze stays fixed on your belly, and you sense his wish, so you gently guide his hand lower.

"She's here. Just wait for her," you whisper, and he patiently focuses, waiting to feel something—anything at all. His brow furrows with concentration, but after a while, neither of you feel any movement. "Guess she's not in the mood for a kick," you say softly. He nods, smiling tightly as he pulls his hand away. "Maybe... she's just not ready for me either,"

he murmurs, his voice trailing off as he stands. Feeling a twinge of sadness, you stand as well, grabbing his coat while he picks up his bag, and the two of you head upstairs in silence. He takes a cold shower, then slips on his sweatpants and a black t-shirt before stepping out of the bathroom, and using a towel to dry his damp hair. You're sitting on the couch, watching him.

"What?" he asks, catching your gaze before turning to the mirror to apply his skincare. You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. The bump presses into his back before the rest of you can it's a little awkward, but it works. You look up at him, meeting his eyes in the mirror's reflection.

"What's wrong?" you ask softly. He sighs, resting his hand over yours on his waist. "just had a bad day.." he murmurs. "you can tell me about it, if you want to." Jungkook's heart clenches at how soft you sound like you do not want to intrude but you also want him to know that you're always there for him. he loves the feeling of being cared for and you give him, so much that he feels so lucky. "work is getting stressful."

he says leaving out the rumors and the whole Yoongi mess from you because he does not want to worry you. "it will be fine. work is not work if it isn't stressful." You say this, and he chuckles, nodding.

Your hand rubs his stomach to comfort him, sending a flutter through him. He loves how gently you treat him, like he's someone precious, making him feel like a child in the best way. "Hey, you come here!" he says, grabbing your hand and turning you to face him, his tone playful. You can't help but smile as he relaxes. "I think you're forgetting something..."

he teases, watching you frown in thought. He bites his inner cheek, waiting for you to remember that silly dream you had. "What did I forget?" you ask, a bit lost. He groans, laughing. "Your dancing tanghulu dream!" "Ohhh!" you start to laugh, trying to hold it in, but it escapes, and he chuckles along with you.

"I got them for you," he says. "You did?!" you exclaim, eyes lighting up. He nods, leading you downstairs, where a brown paper bag sits on the counter. You open it to find a box with strawberries, grapes, and tomatoes coated in a glistening sugar syrup, skewered on sticks. your eyes sparkle at the fruits in front of you as you grab one and poke it into your mouth.

"careful bear, the edge might hurt you." He leans back against the counter, watching as you savor a mouthful of the crisp, sugar-coated fruits. A soft moan escapes you as you close your eyes, head tilted back in bliss. "My cravings are finally satisfied!" you declare. "Is that so?" he teases. "Mm-hmm, try one!"

You bring a piece to his lips, but he shakes his head, smiling. "Have one!" you insist, nudging him. He wraps his arms around your hips, opening his mouth as you press a strawberry to his lips. He bites into it, and your palm hovers beneath his chin to catch any sugar bits that fall, which you quickly pop into your mouth, licking your fingers. "Good, right?" you ask.

"Mm-hmm," he hums, satisfied. As you reach for a grape skewer, he gestures for you to stand between his legs, so you press your back to his chest, leaning into him as you munch on the rest of the fruit. Occasionally, you offer him a bite, though you end up eating most of it yourself. "Happy?"

he asks, and you nod eagerly. His heart swells as he watches you, delighted just to see you smile. Gently, he brushes his fingertips along your lips, collecting the little sugar crystals, then pops them into his mouth. When he reaches to get the last bit, you stick out your tongue, licking his finger clean.

His eyes darken slightly, watching you with a smirk. "You're quite the tease." you slowly nod with your lips still wrapping around his finger, your tongue rolling. "you taste good." you say after you let go of his finger with a pop sound. "you know what else tastes good..."

his voice raspy as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. "what is?" you whisper innocently, like have no idea what he's gonna say next when you very well know what it is. "my dick, baby." your fingertip traces his chest and abs, you feel his nipple harden at your touch, he bites back a moan. "that i know."

you whisper as you lean closer to him, pressing your lips on his neck. "y/n.." he groans and grips your hips tighter. "yes babe..." the butterflies that he felt when you call him that. "call me that again."

you press your lips to his ear and suck on it as you whisper. "babe.."

"fuck"

"you like that?" you ask as you palm his bulge.

"fucking love it."

next chapter ⇢

#bts fanfic #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #one night stand #theagstd #jeon jungkook #btswritersclub #bts #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n

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cellophaine · 2 days ago

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Chapter IX: GAME

Masterlist

Pairing: Art Donaldson x F!Reader

Warnings: The big three – fluff, angst, and smut.

Author's Note: have fun with this chapter :)

GIF Source (I couldn't find the gif when they're at the Cincinnati Masters so let's just pretend that this gif is that gif)

2019. New Rochelle.

You drove the rental through the city, your eyes roaming over the unfamiliar scenery with a languorous curiosity. The sun was hung high, its view unobstructed by the cloudless sky, casting harsh blocks of shadow onto the street. Despite the storm warning, the only indication was the strong gusts of wind that fluttered the tree branches, wrapping the leaves in their grasp and blowing past your car window.

The Authors' Exchange conference was the reason you came to New Rochelle, which would begin tomorrow and expand over three days. Afterwards, you'd drive to Manhattan and stay with Sophie for a week before heading back to San Francisco. The event organizer, Jennifer Roux, had sent you a message earlier in the day detailing the tour of the conference area that would take place after you'd settled in your room.

The GPS's alert chimed for a right turn. You took it and found yourself heading towards a big advertisement that scaled along the side of a building, featuring Art and Tashi prominently. You sucked in a deep breath as old emotions threatened to bubble. You hadn't seen Art in almost ten years, and during all that time, the brief sight of his face, the casual mention of his name were enough to make your heart clench. Affliction, indifference, frustration, and guilt. They all fought one another to claim their place when you tried to place exactly how you felt. But you could never get it right. It was a mess, and it was different every time. But you had moved on. The old feelings were here a moment and gone the next. It dissipated just as you drove past the wallscape advertisement, heading straight for the hotel.

Jennifer was much more bubbly in person than in formal emails, which was something you didn't expect. After gushing over your books, she insisted on taking you to your room herself despite your polite refusal. With the keycard in one hand and your suitcase in another, you followed her into the elevator. A voice called out.

"Hold it, please!"

You stepped back as much as you could to make room for the strangers, drawing your suitcase and bag closer to yourself. Hurried footsteps followed by two blurry forms. Jennifer asked for their floor, and the door closed. Your breath caught at the sight of the taller silhouette.

Art.

His name was a noiseless whisper on your lips. His mouth parted slightly, and his eyes widened as they drilled into you. The shock seemed to mask the hurt and guilt behind his features, but you used to know him so intimately, just like how he knew you. Your eyes latched onto his face, tracing the familiar traits that had changed slightly over time. He looked good, even though you didn't want to admit it. His hair was shorter than when you saw him last. His face was sharper and more angular, as if time was an infatuated sculptor obsessed with their subject, barely taking away his youthfulness and leaving his beauty whole. Your eyes locked, its pull intense and undeniable. A movement drew your attention away from him to the little girl he was with. Her hand was clasped in Art's, and the other tugged on yours.

"Hi."

Her timid voice broke the spell. You forced your eyes away and looked down to address her. Her sweet, innocent face beamed as you crouched down to her level. She looked so much like her mother, but you could see traits of Art in her as well. You responded with a smile of your own.

"Hi."

"I like your cherries."

She pointed to the charm on your bag.

"Thank you. Do you want to feel how soft they are?"

She nodded eagerly. You held out your bag, and she carefully petted the synthetic fabric. She squeezed the cherries in her hand, and you took that moment to ask.

"What's your name?"

She looked up at her dad, and only after getting a nod of approval from him did she turn to you.

"Lily."

You smiled warmly at her, even though your insides were punctured with a thousand little cuts.

"What a pretty name."

Her toothy smile deepened as she shyly thanked you. You introduced yourself.

"I like your name."

"Aww, thank you. You're so sweet."

"This is my dad."

Lily let go of the cherries, using both of her hands to tug on Art's attention, which was temporarily reserved for you. She craned her neck to look up when her dad failed to respond.

"Daddy, say hi."

"I–"

You stared at him, wondering if he was going to say anything at all. But you'd never know. The elevator dinged, announcing your floor. You stood up, extending a sweet smile to Lily.

"This is my floor. It was nice to meet you, Lily."

You rushed out with your luggage, and thankfully, Jennifer was right behind you. The elevator doors closed, and you looked away, refusing to make eye contact with Art despite him seeking you out.

Jennifer left quickly after walking you to your room and reminding you of the tour. In the quiet room with only the hums of the air conditioner presented, you sat on the pristine full bed, your luggage forgotten on the side. Pressing a hand to your chest, you could feel your heart's frantic beat as the memories of what happened years ago came rushing back all at once.

2009. Stanford.

After the fight, nothing was the same. There was a passiveness in your relationship that you were forced to come to terms with. You could keep yourself suspended in denial or cut yourself free of the entanglement and the exertion to keep up the illusion. And you chose the latter. Art rarely called and texted, and even when he did, your conversations were brief and awkward. You took his lack of contact as a sign for you to step back. You ceased all communication with him, even though you still kept his number on your phone. You even went as far as avoiding places you often went to with him. Art seemed to know not to visit the coffee shop. Eventually, by the end of that summer, you fell out. There was no final explosive fight, no goodbyes. Things just ended.

But your mind always strayed back to him. How you'd been a bother, you'd been too much, and this distance was his way of telling you that. The way you completely depended on him for comfort after Christmas made you wince in embarrassment whenever you thought of it. Perhaps he felt like you were a burden. You took that as the truth, and no matter what Art might tell you then, it could never change your mind.

In the two years that followed, unexpected yet welcoming changes were made. Your story was featured in the Stanford paper as the first-place winner's prize, along with a cheque for $500. The exposure caught the eye of your current literary agent, Avery Clarke, who then showed interest in the possibility of representing you. She was from a small agency that focused on finding new writers. After reading through your collections of short stories and much anticipation, she decided to take you on her team. You spread yourself even thinner across school, work and writing. Your book took form in the dimness of late nights, many of which you were accompanied by your roommates. And the hard work paid off. Three publishers expressed their interests, and after a long conversation and lots of consideration, you decided to go with The Paper House. Now, you were waiting in a nervous yet content state while Avery worked on negotiating the finer details of your first book deal. Life and new purposes took over the place Art used to be. But, eventually, he found his way back into your life, as if there was an invisible thread that connected you, and Art was pulling on it.

It was early October. You remembered it so clearly. The air was brisk, and the sun was warm, making the perfect weather that you were looking forward to enjoying. Your shift at the cafe ended in the early afternoon. When you came out from the back, Art was there, standing by an empty table near the entrance. He looked good, as he always did. The soft smile that was one of your many weaknesses played with your heartstrings, making your breath catch in your throat. In a polo shirt and jeans, he looked like he came here just for you, and this wasn't a standard smoothie run. His lips parted, and his throat worked to form what he had planned to say into audible words. But you got to it before he did.

"What are you doing here?"

"I … I just wanted to talk to you."

You responded to that with a discontented hum. Art picked up on it.

"I saw that you got a book deal on the newspaper. Congratulations."

You nodded warily.

"Thank you."

"How do you feel about it?"

You shrugged.

"Just fine. It's just a book deal. It's not like it will define my career or anything."

Art laughed softly at your sarcastic response. The low vibrato reminded you of how much you'd missed it.

"Do you want to talk about it over a coffee?"

His tone was casual, yet there was a deliberate calculation as if he was laying down a chess piece and waiting for your next move. You arched an eyebrow at your surroundings.

"Here?"

"No. Somewhere else."

His smile was endearing, and you found yourself persuaded by its charm. You reluctantly agreed. On the stroll to the all-day breakfast bar nearby, the two of you walked side by side but left a distance in between. Your conversation remained formal, but after you'd sat down for some crepes and waffles, it returned to a liveliness that it hadn't been for two years.

"You'll do great. I read your story in the newspaper."

Your eyes on him were nothing if not skeptical.

"You have?"

Not that your win was kept a secret. You just didn't think Art was keeping up with you after your fallout.

"Of course I have. I read the whole thing in one sitting. You have such a brilliant way with words."

You rolled your eyes playfully, and your cheeks warmed at his compliment.

"Thank you. That's just one story, though. How are you so sure of it?"

"I just know."

His smug smirk drew a chuckle from you. Your talk, just like your food, was piquant and smooth. You missed the conversations you had, the casual flirtiness, the way being yourselves felt so easy, like how it was meant to be. You took a sip of your water, watching Art staring back at you from the other side of the table. You tilted your head, enticing him to speak his mind.

"What happened to us?"

"You know damn well what happened."

He chuckled, but when he talked, there was no trace of humour.

"I know. It was my fault. I'm sorry for acting like a dick to you. For what it's worth, I liked you a lot …"

You stayed quiet at the past tense use.

" … and I would be lying if I said my feelings for you had completely gone."

You placed your fork down and levelled him with a guarded stare.

"What are you saying?"

Art took a moment as if he was giving his words great consideration. And after what felt like an agonizing wait, his voice carried the significant weight of his confession.

"I still like you."

You let it settle in. This moment had passed through your head many times before, but you never thought it would come true.

"What about Tashi?"

"There's nothing going on between me and her."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm being honest. The last time we talked was two years ago. During the summer break, actually."

"Why me? Why now?"

"I was a fool messing up what we had."

And there it was. All that you wanted to hear. Art admitted that there was something akin to love between you, before everything that happened. Your hope was a small ember, and all it needed was the tiniest spark to burst into flame. Your eyes locked with an intensity that nestled deep in your bones. Neither of you could look away.

"Are you asking me for a second chance?"

"No. I'm asking you if I deserve one."

"We'll see."

You continued to see Art after that. It was a second chance at being casual friends, and things almost went back to how it was before. But something was different this time.

You remembered not leaving Art's single room until the morning the night you slept with him for the first time. It had to be his room because, by that point, Ashley and Grace were unaware of your involvement with Art. If they did, they would strongly oppose your reunion, as they knew all too well about the aftermath in 2007.

His skin was soft and warm, and the way he draped over your body made you arch against him for more. Art kissed his way down to your body, worshipping every inch of your skin with fervour kisses, drawing whimpers from your clenched lips. As eager as he was to taste you, the man knew how to tease you until you begged for it. And when he did, your body shuddered in response. He worked you up with his tongue, swirling it over and over on your dripping lips and sensitive clit before dipping it into your entrance. Your hips bucked into his mouth, seeking for release, but he had none of that. With one hand over your belly, holding you down, the other was two fingers deep into your cunt; he was relentless. You came quickly after that, and all you could think of was how much you wanted him. You pulled him up to meet your lips in a sloppy kiss. Your hand skimmed down the length of his torso, and when you almost reached what you wanted most at that moment, he stopped you with a hand on your wrist. His flushed face tinged with a little embarrassment, and the stickiness under your calf told you what you needed to know. You shared an awkward laugh, and you pulled his face down so you could kiss his forehead. Pushing him back onto the bed, you took over by crawling down the length of his body until you reached his leaking cock. You touched him with tenderness, and it didn't take much coaxing and sucking until his cock became hard again. Art was gentle and took his time with you, slowly working you up to your climax with his thickness pushing all the way in and out. In the final moments, your bodies worked in tandem; your hips were pressed flush against each other. The fervorous thrusts, the barely contained moans and the creaky sound of his twin bed helped create an obscene sound in the small room. You came just moments before he did. Afterwards, as you basked in the afterglow and the sweat of your bodies, you chuckled to yourself.

"If we did this two years ago, we wouldn't have broken up at all."

That drew a laugh out of him. You found yourself falling for Art again. He felt the same. Your lives were better with the other in it, and that was enough. You didn't put a label on your relationship, but you mutually agreed that you were exclusively seeing each other. The ever-evading title wasn't a cause for concern, especially now that Art hadn't talked to either Tashi or Patrick in a while. You were surprised when you found out about the latter but didn't inquire further. All you cared about was Art, and how good it felt to have him back.

2010. Mason, Ohio.

Art had been on a good streak during the Cincinnati Masters tour. He was heading to the next rounds with ease. And you were there to cheer him on for every match. You graduated with honours back in May, and now that your first book was on its way to the production stage, your life finally felt like it was under your control. The water was still and peaceful, but you should have known better than to blindly believe that nothing could disturb it. The ripple came in with shoulder-length hair and a slim body, the object of your deeply rooted self-contempt, of the haunting idea that you weren't good enough for Art despite telling yourself that you weren't the same person anymore. You had changed.

But some things were harder to forget and forgive.

You were watching Art and his coach practicing from the outside of the fence when Tashi came in. When you noticed her, she waved, her languid pace undisturbed, as if she was in control of everything and everyone around her. Helplessness surged as you thought about how Tashi was too close to Art for your own comfort. You put on a smile, hoping that it didn't look strained.

"Hey Tashi."

"Hey. It's nice to see you again."

"You, too. How have you been?"

"Oh, uh, I've taken some time off tennis to recover."

You thought it was strange how Tashi seemed to think of herself as a tennis player first and a normal person second. But since she mentioned that, you asked.

"When can I see you back in court?"

Tashi went quiet at that. She briefly looked down at her shoes before answering.

"I'm not sure yet."

There was a kind of pensive sadness in her eyes, and you found the Tashi in front of you now were miles away from the Tashi you often watched on the tennis court a few years ago. Your heart broke for her. Tennis seemed to be her whole life, and from the sound of her answer, it was now something that would always be out of reach.

"I'm sorry. I thought you were here to compete as well."

"No, I'm not. I'm just Katerina's hitting partner. She's the one who's competing."

Tashi looked over to Art and waved at him. You craned your neck to see that Art had seen her as well, his hand lowered from reciprocating her. She then turned to you.

"Anyway, I'm here because they told me that Art was here. And I wanted to talk to him."

You nodded and looked at your watch.

"I think he'll be done soon."

His practice ended five minutes later. You walked to him, and your innate need to stake your claim compelled you to put on a show. You pulled Art into a hug despite the playful protest he put on because of his sweaty shirt, and when you pulled away, you kissed his cheek and whispered.

"Looks like you guys need to catch up. I'll leave for the restaurant and get us a table. I'll see you there?"

"See you there."

You left the court, but not before looking back to see them talking. You turned away as old insecurities threatened to resurface.

After that day, Tashi sat in the audience for Art's matches. You knew because she often opted for the bottom row while you went for the higher view. During Art's semi-final, you couldn't be there as you had a meeting with Avery and The Paper House in Norwood. You made it to the court as the match had ended; some people were waiting around for Art's signature and photos. You weaved your way into the court and stopped dead at the entrance. Even though they were only talking, your jealousy and insecurities coloured it into something else. They looked good together. Her height almost matched his. The way Art listened to Tashi, his attention was fully wrapped in every syllable she uttered and hand gestures she made. You stayed quiet for most of the ride back to the hotel, even though you should've put on a smile, a show, anything because Art made it to the final. Later that night, during dinner, the weight of your thoughts had become so unbearable that you surrendered yourself to its whim. You didn't even look away from your plate when you spoke.

"It's nice to see Tashi doing so well."

"Yeah, it is. She had a tough time after her injury."

"Oh yeah? How do you know?"

"She told me."

"Oh, right."

You fell into silence again. What Art had to say next drew your attention away from the dinner that you had no appetite for.

"I'm thinking of asking her to be my assistant coach."

You angled your head to look at him fully. Apprehension filled your tone.

"Why?"

"I think … she can make me a better player."

"But you're already great. You're in the final. You've beaten so many guys to get here."

"I want to be better than great."

You leaned back on your chair.

"And you think Tashi can help you with that?"

"Yes, she gave me some helpful tips after the match. She really watched the way I play and gave me corrections and they were things I didn't even notice."

You looked away from Art, your voice verged on bitterness with sarcasm as its coat.

"Right. To me it sounds like you want to spend more time with her."

"We were friends."

"Just like how you and I are friends?"

"That's unfair. It's different with us. We're seeing each other."

"But we're not exactly dating, are we? You're not my boyfriend, and I'm not your girlfriend."

"Isn't that what we both agreed on? That we would take it slow?"

You didn't like it, but he was right. Your answer was only a whisper.

"Yes."

"I guess we can both agree on that, then."

Dinner ended in an uncomfortable silence. It stretched on as you ignored Art on your walk back to the room. Tension brewed and bubbled, and it was only a matter of time before it exploded. You dropped your bag on the desk with a heavy thud, and Art couldn't stand your deliberate shun anymore.

"Could you please tell me what I did wrong?"

"No, you didn't do anything wrong."

You shrugged, pretending to be busy with unloading your bag.

"Can we not do this, please? Can we just celebrate my win tonight?"

"You can celebrate with Tashi."

Art was taken aback by your words if his brief silence was an indication.

"Why would you say that?"

"Go ahead, and call her. You have my permission."

He touched your arm, which was still moving as if you suddenly needed to empty everything.

"Please, stop. Can you please look at me?"

You jerked your arm away from his touch and whirled around to face him.

"Be honest with yourself. Don't you want to spend more time with Tashi? Don't you wish that she was here right now, in my place?"

"Is this because I talked to her? You can't possibly condemn me for that."

"Yes, I can! You basically ignored me when she came around three years ago after her break up with Patrick, who was your best friend, by the way. Sorry if I'm still sensitive about it."

Art stepped back as you leaned onto the table. It felt nice and awful at the same time, being able to say what you'd thought about.

"Tashi's just looking out for me. She sees who I can become, and I can become so much better."

"What about me? What about what I think? I think you're great already."

Art's face was flushed with a simmering anger.

"If I'm so great, why have I never won a game against a nobody?"

It took you a moment for it to click in. He was talking about Patrick. It renewed the anger inside of you.

"For fuck's sake! Is that all you guys talk about? Fucking tennis?"

"It's what I do."

"You know she's just using you to get back to tennis, right? It's all she's ever talked about."

"It's what we're both passionate about."

Art's willful ignorance irked you, and you exploded.

"Can't you see it? She wants to get back out there as a player and she can't and it's making her miserable. One day, you'll realize she has never seen you more than a mean to live through."

He pointed an accusing finger at you, and you felt like you were pinned down under his gaze.

"That's cruel, and you know it."

"It's the truth."

Despite the nonchalance in your tone, your voice said otherwise. You didn't even realize the tears that had run down your cheeks. Art's red-rimmed eyes stared back at you. His jaw ticked, working to put the thoughts in his head into words. And they cut deeper than a knife.

"This relationship will never work if you can't trust me."

"I'm sorry that I have trust issues. It's not like you've never given me any reasons to doubt you, right?"

"Are you talking about Tashi again?"

"Of course I am. She's always been a problem to us."

"No, she's not."

"Yes, she is."

Your name formed on his lips, a beautiful sound in the gravel of his voice.

"I love you."

The argument that poised on your lips held itself in place. You felt like the air in your lungs was sucked out of you in the three syllables that Art uttered. The world slowed, and you could hear the thunderous beat of your heart. If this was a perfect world, you would be over the moon. You would kiss him until neither of you could breathe and whisper those words back to him, and everything would be fine. But this was the real world, and you were a creature of pragmatism and self-destruction. Your voice shook, knowing that this would be the end of you and Art.

"Do you really love me for me, or do you love me because Tashi wasn't there?"

"How could you say that?"

"Let's be honest with ourselves. You know it, and I know it. You've always loved Tashi more. For as long as she is around, I will always be second. And I really, really, don't want to feel that way again."

Art shook his head. You closed the distance in between and held Art's face in your hand. You caressed his jaw, smudging the wetness on his cheek and whispered.

"You can love more than one person, Art. I just don't want to be put second to someone else. I don't want to wait around for love and, approval and affection. I'm tired of having to beg for it, like I did with my parents."

Art held onto your wrist, squeezing it softly.

"Please don't leave me."

With an equally shaky voice, you forced yourself to say it.

"I need you to make up your mind. Or else, I will do it for you."

"I can't."

"I know."

The finality of your situation settled in, and deep down, you knew that it was for the best. You wouldn't be able to support Art like Tashi would. Tennis was everything to Tashi, and you, on the contrary, were only an outsider looking in. She would be able to help Art achieve his professional goals. What would a writer like you have anything to offer to an athlete like him?

"Can you hold me until I fall asleep, please?"

You nodded, kissing his forehead. You settled in the softness of the bed, with his head on your chest. He slept soundly next to you while you were wide awake. Morning came, and you quietly packed your stuff and left. No note, no goodbye. There was nothing else you could say that could change the situation. Even though you blocked his number, you still looked out for news of him. You convinced yourself that you were okay with your decision. You were selfish; you couldn't share. You'd rather have none than half of him. In the end, you were unable to come to a compromise. You left Art, knowing that he loved you, too, and that somewhat soothed the ache that seemed to be a permanent attachment to your heart.

The news of his engagement to Tashi was everywhere in 2011. Your heart shattered all over again. Even though it caused you so much pain, you still tried to be happy for him. You truly loved him with every fibre of your being. But from then on, you avoided news from Art, hoping the physical and virtual distance could heal you.

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#art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson x f!reader #art donaldson x y/n #art donaldson fic #art donaldson fluff #art donaldson smut #art donaldson fanfiction #challengers fluff #challengers x reader #challengers x you #challengers x y/n #challengers #challengers 2024 #tashi duncan #tashi duncan x art donaldson #art donaldson x tashi duncan

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multipleoccupancy · 3 days ago

Text

Once it was in the box, Theo pulled it back, stole a quick look at what was inside, pulled quite a disgusted face and then covered it up again. "We can leave it in mine," he said, thinking it would be unfair to expect her to keep something so gross in her cell while they waited for the chance to speak to Heartland. "But it's cold hard proof, we can show them and get out of here," he smiled, that little element of hope creeping back in again.

He did however do a double take and scan the room with more nervousness than before. "Invisible?" It seemed awfully inconvenient for them. How did they fight an invisible monster that killed people?

Mauve suggested looking for a trail, "good idea," he was sure to praise her as she had him and he looked again at the bloody stains on the floor, trying to find a pattern but with little success. "It's all red," he pointed out, he had been hoping that monster blood was a different colour given that Hounds apparently had blue blood, unless she had meant in the royal sense?!

He turned to look at the trail of blood that lead out of the room where the orderlies had taken the body out, clearly still dripping with blood. "Unless it's gone back down the corridor?" Could it have been in another cell? Should he follow the trail or was the beast still in the cell, watching them while it was invisible and waiting for them to let their guard down. He pulled at the pizza cutter again and tried to scan the room once more. "There's so much blood everywhere," he complained with a frustrated sigh. But there were two tracks of blood now that he looked at the doorway. He pointed them out to Mauve, "Hey, you don't think that one is the orderly and the other is the monster?" He suggested, there were two tracks of dripped blood that crossed the threshold at least.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

Violet's eyes widened. "You're right!" she exclaimed, "if they see this, they'll have to believe us. They'll have to let us out." This was a rather undeniable proof that monsters were real. There was nothing remotely human or animal about this strange, toothy tentacle.

Carefully taking the tissue Theo was handing her, she used it to grab the tentacle without touching it with her fingers. It still made her gag a little bit. Once she had it, wrapped in the tissue, she deposited the whole thing inside the box. "We should hide it in one of our cells," she pointed out, "make sure the orderlies don't try to take it from us before we can show it to Dr. Heartlad."

"It might be hiding somewhere, yes," she grimaced, "some monsters can turn invisible, that would explain why the orderlies didn't see it when they found the body." But how would they find an invisible monster?

"I hope it's not still in the room." Violet didn't want to get ambushed by this strange beast. She stood up and scanned her surroundings, but if the monster was truly invisible, then she wouldn't be able to spot it anyway. "We need to keep our eyes peeled for anythin' unusual. It clearly got hurt, so we might be able to find a trail of blood."

#hvbris #killian #violet #asoue au

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wolvietxt · 3 days ago

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𝓦INTER’S 𝓔DGE !

pairing : daryl dixon x reader warnings : enemies to lovers, mean!daryl, hurt / comfort, crying, flashbacks, shouting, injury, fluff wc : 3k a/n : sorry if this storyline is weird and incoherent i wrote this super quick and it’s completely unedited 😭

the cold wind cut through your clothes, gnawing at the edges of your body like a thousand little knives. snow swirled, thick and heavy, clouding your vision as you trudged through the freezing wilderness. each breath you took stung your lungs, but the feeling of the storm engulfing you almost made you forget how cold your body had become.

you hadn’t spoken much to daryl. not that you ever did, but today felt different. there was a heaviness between you that made the silence uncomfortable. his posture was stiff, tense, and there was an air about him that made it feel like every word he spoke was wrapped in ice. the usually stoic man was colder than the storm itself, and it left an ache in your chest. but you didn’t let it show, only occasionally, when you thought too hard about it and your eyes pricked and filled with unshed tears. sometimes he did let his guard down, but only after breaking yours into a million pieces.

🌀 one week ago…

daryl stormed into the cabin, slamming the door behind him with a force that rattled the walls. he was out of breath, his clothes soaked from the harsh winter winds, his face set in a scowl. you weren’t sure whether it was from the cold or something else, but you had a feeling it was the latter.

he turned to you, eyes hard and narrowed, and you immediately knew something was wrong. his voice came out low, tight with anger. "what the hell were you thinkin'?"

you froze, the warmth from the fire doing nothing to ease the chill that had crept into your bones. "i was fine," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "just a quick run, i didn’t think - "

"didn’t think?" he cut you off, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "you could’ve gotten yourself killed, what if they - what if you hadn’t made it back?" his breath was coming in quick bursts now, his face red with frustration.

you swallowed hard, the words stinging more than you expected. "i didn’t - i didn’t mean to - "

"you always do this shit," daryl spat, his voice thick with bitterness. "put yourself at risk like it’s nothin’. you think i don’t care? you think i don’t worry about you every damn time you go off on your own? damn it, why do you gotta be so reckless?"

the tears you’d been holding back started to spill over, your face flushed with a mix of frustration and hurt. "i didn’t mean to - "

"well, you did," daryl shot back, voice sharp as a whip. "you always do." his chest heaved with the intensity of his anger, but there was a flicker of regret crossing his features, just for a moment. you barely had time to register it before his next words hit like a punch. "you think i’m just supposed to sit back and watch you make these stupid decisions? i’m not gonna let you get yourself killed, damn it."

you took a step back, the sting of his words sinking in deep. you wanted to argue, to tell him you could take care of yourself, but the tears kept coming. the anger, the frustration, it all mixed up with the sharp ache in your chest. you couldn’t stop them.

"don’t just stand there crying," daryl muttered, clearly uncomfortable but still angry. "you should know better by now."

you turned away, trying to hide your tears, but daryl’s words had hit harder than you expected. you wanted him to see how hurt you were, but there was no way to make him understand. not when his anger was so much louder than anything else.

the next day, rick had pulled daryl aside, and although you didn’t know exactly what had been said, you were sure that it had made daryl think twice. he came to you later that evening, standing in the doorway, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. his voice was low, rough around the edges, but there was a softness there that hadn’t been in his words before.

"i didn’t mean it," he said, the words almost grudging, like they were a struggle to get out. "i was just... worried. you got no idea how much i fuckin’ hate when you put yourself in danger like that."

you stayed silent, unsure what to say, but his eyes were sincere. it wasn’t a perfect apology, but it was something. "okay, daryl," you whispered, trying to push past the ache in your chest.

daryl nodded, looking down for a second, and you could see the frustration still there, lingering beneath the surface. "i won’t… be like that. i’ll try," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "just... stay safe, alright?"

it wasn’t the grand gesture you had been expecting, but in that moment, you understood. he wasn’t good with words, and he was terrible at handling his emotions, but in his own way, he was trying. and that was enough for now.

🌀 present day…

since then, you had grown used to his silence. used to his gruff exterior. the way he kept most people at arm’s length, especially you. you’d never done anything to him, no reason that he had to treat you as coldly as he often did, but nevertheless it was your reality now. none of the group has understood it, you’d been with them as long as carol had, but daryl acted as if you were a newcomer, not to be trusted. rick often paired you two up to go on runs to fix whatever animosity he held when it came to you, but they did nothing but foster that animosity into sharp responses and drawn out glares. but still, there was something about today. his refusal to speak, to acknowledge you in any real way, made your chest tight and your skin crawl.

"keep up," daryl muttered, his voice low and sharp as he glanced over his shoulder. you hadn’t realised you were lagging behind. maybe it was the storm slowing your steps, or maybe it was just you, lost in your own head.

you nodded quickly, swallowing back the words that burned your tongue. "’m right here."

daryl didn’t reply. he just turned forward and kept walking. it wasn’t the first time he’d been distant, but something about it today cut deeper than usual. you hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that it had something to do with you. maybe you’d pushed him too far. maybe you had said something or done something that had irritated him.

but whatever it was, it left you feeling small and insignificant.

the storm grew worse. the winds picked up, the snow fell faster, and the trees around you groaned under the weight of the snow. your breath puffed in front of you in heavy clouds, but you kept moving forward, determined to make it through the blizzard, determined to get to the cabin daryl had promised.

it wasn’t long before the first growl of walkers hit your ears. daryl spun around, his hand already on his crossbow, aiming at the group of walkers. you froze, adrenaline rushing through your veins, but before you could really react, a walker lunged forward. its jagged fingernails sank into your arm, pulling you off balance.

your feet slipped on the icy ground, and you tumbled into the river that rushed nearby, the water shockingly cold as it enveloped you. your lungs screamed for air as you gasped and fought against the current, but it was useless. the ice-cold water dragged you further away from the bank.

daryl’s voice was sharp, filled with panic, though he tried to mask it with gritted teeth. "get the fuck outta there!"

you tried to claw your way to the shore, but your limbs were frozen, heavy, and uncooperative. every time you managed to get a grip on the icy rocks, another wave of the current would knock you back. it felt like the world was closing in on you, the freezing cold, the rushing water, and daryl’s yelling mixing together in a blur.

then, everything went black.

when you woke, the cold was still there, but you were no longer in the water. you were lying on the ground, drenched and shivering uncontrollably, your body numb from the cold. daryl was kneeling beside you, his rough hands pressing against your chest, trying to warm you up.

"you with me?" he growled, his voice harsh but not unkind.

you blinked up at him, feeling the warmth of his hand against your frozen skin. "yeah," you whispered, teeth chattering. "i'm... i'm fine."

"don’t lie," he muttered, his fingers gently brushing the water from your face. "you’re not fine."

you could see the concern flicker in his eyes for a brief moment, but then it was gone, replaced by that same guarded look he always wore around you. it stung, but you pushed the feeling away. you had known daryl for a while now, and you knew better than to expect anything more from him.

"i’ll get you warm," he said, his voice firm, like he was ordering himself more than you.

you tried to sit up, but the moment you shifted, your body went into shock, and you collapsed back to the ground with a quiet gasp.

"damn it," daryl muttered under his breath. he grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you into his lap with surprising gentleness. it wasn’t like him to do something like this, and you felt your chest tighten at the way he cradled you, careful, almost tender.

he muttered something about getting you back to the cabin, but you were barely listening. the cold was overwhelming, and the exhaustion of the past few days - combined with the shock of nearly drowning - had you feeling like your body might give out at any moment.

"stay with me," daryl said quietly, his voice softer than it had been all day. his arms wrapped around you tighter, his rough fingers brushing the hair away from your face as his breath mingled with yours. "i’m not letting you go."

you felt the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, and you realised how desperately you needed this. you needed him. you needed someone to keep you safe.

you didn’t speak. you just let him hold you, let him warm you, let him be the one thing that kept you grounded in this frozen world.

after what felt like an eternity, daryl shifted beneath you, his hands moving to rub your arms, trying to bring feeling back into your numb limbs. "i don’t know why you do this," he muttered. "act like you’re invincible when you’re not. you’re not some damn hero."

you frowned, confusion and worry swirling in your gut. "what does that mean?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

daryl hesitated. for a moment, he didn’t say anything, but you could feel the tension between you both, like he was fighting himself. finally, he sighed, a deep, heavy sound, and brushed his thumb across your cheek. "i don’t know how to do this," he admitted quietly. "how to be… with you. but damn it, i can’t stand the thought of losing you."

his words hit you like a wave, and your eyes filled with tears. "daryl..." you whispered, but the words caught in your throat as emotion swelled within you. you wanted to say something - anything - but your body trembled too much.

"i don’t need you cryin’ on me, okay?" he snapped, but there was no heat behind the words. instead, he gently wiped the tears from your face, his movements surprisingly soft.

"sorry," you whispered through sniffles, not sure why you were apologizing.

"don’t be, sweetheart" he said, his voice almost gentle. "i’m sorry... i never meant to make you feel like you had to do this alone."

you didn’t respond. the rawness of his admission hit you hard, and you could feel the weight of his words sinking deep into your chest. daryl gripped you tighter, and for the first time, you saw him as something other than the tough, cold man who kept his distance.

"i need you," he muttered against your hair. "i’ve always needed you."

the words were enough to make your heart race, your body flush with heat despite the cold. you wanted to say something back, but the pressure in your chest wouldn’t allow it. so, instead, you just nodded, your eyes fluttering shut.

he shifted under you again, moving just slightly to get more comfortable, and you could feel his lips hover over yours for a long moment. he hesitated, like he was unsure if he was crossing a line. then, with a soft, almost desperate groan, he kissed you.

it wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t soft either. it was full of pent-up longing, slow, and deep. his lips moved over yours like he was claiming you, like he couldn’t stand being this close to you without making sure you knew how much you meant to him. it was messy, heated, and completely overwhelming.

when he pulled away, his breath was shaky, and his hands held your face gently. "don’t ever do something like that again," he said softly, his voice low and ragged. "you scared the shit outta me."

you smiled through your tears, nodding against him. "i won’t," you promised, your hands gently tracing the rough outline of his jaw.

he pulled you closer again, his hand on the back of your head as he pressed his forehead against yours, both of you trying to breathe in the same air. in that moment, you knew you’d never be alone again.

🌀 one week later…

the night had been long, and the cabin was quiet except for the crackling fire. the warmth of the room, combined with the exhaustion from the day’s journey, made everything feel a little surreal. daryl was close beside you, his body heat a welcome comfort against the cold, as his hands cupped your face with that familiar gentleness that had slowly become more frequent.

you were both so absorbed in the moment, the world outside seeming distant, when you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching. but neither of you moved, too wrapped up in the stolen moments between you.

creak. the door to the cabin slowly opened, and in walked glenn and maggie, chatting amongst themselves. they froze, their conversation cutting off abruptly as they caught sight of the scene in front of them.

the two of you were so close now, lips meeting in a slow, heated kiss, unaware that the group was standing right there. daryl’s hand was on your back, his thumb gently stroking the skin above your waistband. your own hands were gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer, as if there was nothing in the world that mattered more than this.

glenn was the first to react, his eyes wide and his mouth falling open. he let out an almost inaudible, "whoa." maggie, standing next to him, blinked twice, then burst out laughing, her hand over her mouth as she tried to stifle the sound.

daryl didn’t move, didn’t break the kiss, but there was a faint groan of frustration when he realised what had happened. his hands remained where they were, but his eyes flicked to glenn and maggie, the awkward realisation dawning.

you, on the other hand, pulled back quickly, your face flaming with embarrassment as you scrambled to push yourself away from daryl. you couldn’t even look at them, much less speak. the warmth of the cabin felt suffocating now, your whole body burning with the intensity of being caught in such an intimate moment.

"oh my god," maggie said, laughing harder now, unable to control herself. "this is too much, you two." she giggled at glenn, her bright eyes twinkling, tears threatening to form with how hard she was shaking. "glenn, should we leave them alone?"

glenn, still in shock, let out a small, awkward chuckle, looking anywhere but at the two of you. "yeah, uh, we should... probably go... leave them to... uh... their business." he cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable, but also clearly trying to suppress his grin.

you wanted to crawl under the floorboards. why was this happening? why did they have to walk in on this?

"you guys," daryl muttered, finally breaking his silence. his voice was rough, but there was no denying the awkwardness in it. "just... just get the hell out, alright?" he uttered, remnants of your cherry flavoured lip balm still on his lips, making it very hard for anybody in their right mind to take him seriously, especially with the little grin forming on his face.

maggie barely stifled another laugh as she gave daryl a teasing look. "don’t worry, big guy, we’ll give you two some privacy." she winked, and then, with glenn awkwardly tugging at her arm, the two of them backed out of the cabin.

as the door clicked shut behind them, you could hear their muffled laughter outside, and the heat in your face was unbearable. you slowly turned to daryl, who was trying to keep his composure, but you could see the corner of his lips twitching upward.

"don’t say it," you warned him quietly, looking down at the floor, too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

but daryl couldn’t help it. "damn," he said with a smirk. "they just had to barge in, huh?"

"you’re not helping," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

daryl chuckled, his usual gruffness softened by the amusement in his voice. "ain’t my fault you’re so damn cute when you’re all flustered," he teased, pulling you back into his arms, cupping your face and tilting your chin up to fuse your mouth with his once again.

the group would never let either of you live this down. but, somehow, as daryl held you close, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

🌀 daryl dixon : @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid, @sunnykittyzz

@california-boys-and-sun, @cable-kenobi

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

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fushiguruuzzzz · 14 hours ago

Text

ix ⊹ ࣪ ˖ Duck Pond Days

Series mlist

Tags — mention of suicide, fat jokes again (panda will never escape)

Words — 1.6k

“Ow, shit!”

The shrill voices of stupid students rang through the grassy expanse of the park, creating an echo of obnoxiously happy losers. By now, you were certain Toge and Yuji had given themselves concussions. Yuji somehow got the bright idea to spin the merry-go-round at full speed and attempt to jump off. Toge had (unsurprisingly) jumped on the opportunity to participate, resulting in both of them lying on the ground like squashed bugs (and probably lacking the brain cells to be considered much more anyway).

You’d expected them to get along, but this was more than you’d anticipated. This was a good thing, of course, but you could feel their stupidity seeping into you from all edges the more their laughter circled through the air. It was captivating, the moment. It was as if it was only you, your big group of people who were too free for their own good, and the blur of colours that was the bright metal of the playground. The sun had began to set, the streetlights reflecting from every surface, every direction surrounding you.

You were breathing heavily, gasps of air falling from your lips. Considering you’d spent the past hour constantly evading death by arrogance, you had to admit that you were somewhat tuckered out. Though your moment of peace was interrupted, a childish whine cutting through the air and catching your attention. “[name], help!” Nobara fussed, lazily reaching for you as she was dragged to the swingset by an overly happy Yuji. He seemed to be in his element, as odd as that felt saying.

You grinned, shaking your head. She let out a gasp of feigned shock, crying out dramatically. “You’re such a traitor!” You could only laugh, shoving your hands into the shallow pockets of your pants. You were left alone now, the bustling group of people –that being everyone except for Yuta, Maki, and Megumi– moving from one place to the next. You twiddled with the lint within the fabric of your pockets, hoping the small action would at help with the cold, placebo or not. Winter was creeping in, rigid and frosty, freezing the tips of your fingers and leaving nothing but stiff nubs in their place. You should’ve worn a coat, or something thicker than the thin, hoodless sweater you were wrapped in now. A shiver crawled over your skin, a cold gust of air blowing past you.

“Are you cold?” Yuta asked from behind you, making you startle a bit. He’d always been somewhat an observer, something that was both a blessing and a curse. You shrugged, though the goosebumps rising beneath your sleeves spoke louder. “A bit,” you responded, knowing there wasn’t much of a point in denying it. It wasn’t like he could help much, anyway, he’d not worn a coat himself.

“You should try moving around, it helps,” he smiled, his tired eyes shining with warmth. You nodded, offering a smile back, a breath leaving your nose. And then he went back to his conversation with Maki, that shine in his eyes seeming to brighten the moment he turned back at her. All doughy and sweet.

You turned away, feeling as if you were interrupting something. You glanced around, taking in everything around you and what you could do. Your eyes landed on a bench nearby, one of few in the area. That would be nice, a place to sit and breathe for a moment. One problem, though. One of the spaces was occupied by a dark figure, one you’d grown to recognize all too well. It wouldn’t be weird for you to sit, would it? Ah, fuck it. You’d never been one to care much for what was “weird”, what about this was different?

It was only a few short strides over to the little structure, the soft click of your shoes against the concrete just barely sounding through the area. There was a soft noise as you sat down, one that alerted the boy next to you of your presence. He glanced up, the swirling sea that was his eyes meeting yours. It was silent for a moment, though it didn’t seem out of place. More like words didn’t need to be said, not now.

“You aren’t one for the playground?” you asked, the corners of your mouth upturning into a soft smirk.

“Not necessarily,” he replied, something akin to a chuckle leaving his lips. The two of you glanced back at everyone else, both the duo that had broken off and the group of idiots, a clump of people that was larger in mass. The day was growing darker, undeniably so, but the light of their spirits did much more to brighten the place than the days light. Perhaps the sun itself even quivered as it gazed upon the way they illuminated the space.

In the peaceful solitude of his presence, you couldn’t help but be reminded of the time when it was just you and Megumi. Freshly teenagers, on the rare occasion you’d hang out (not including what might as well have been nurse training), you’d often find yourselves at the park near your houses. You’d make a stop at the convenience store nearby, pick up a drink or something to snack on, of which he’d silently insist he paid for. Sometimes, he’d actually end up smacking your hands away from the register. A gentleman, pride, or just daddy’s money? A mystery you’ve yet to solve, even years later.

After your run to the store, the two of you would walk down the street, being met with the somewhat grassy plains that blanketed the ground. You’d have small conversations about anything and everything, and oddly, it was one of few times you saw him that he wasn’t so guarded. Didn’t constantly act like he was ready to defend himself, if the need came. He was docile, almost. Not like a dog, but a loyal wolf, one that bared its teeth at all but one.

You’d always stop to feed the ducks. It became ritual. So you’d feed them your bread and smile as they took the offering, that sliver of unity turning into light in the depths of your irises, and you’d always miss the way his eyes reflected it as he watched you. Sure, he didn’t mind the ducks. They were cute, even. But the domestic joy of them as they fed had nothing on you. If only you’d ever known.

Snapping out of your little daze, you glanced back at him. As he caught your eye for that split second before he looked away, you saw a glimpse of the past within his. It was almost as if he was remembering, too.

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” he said casually, pushing himself from the bench and onto his feet. Your eyes trailed after him, after every movement of his body as he extended to his full height. You let a hum vibrate in your throat, not knowing much else to respond with.

He took a few steps forward, then just barely glanced back at you over his shoulder. “You coming?”

Your head turned up to him, and it took you a moment to process his words. It was a simple question, really, you didn’t know what had you short circuiting. With a furrow of your brow and a hurried nod, you stood. “Yeah, yeah sure.”

The walk wasn’t all that eventful, but it was enough. Enough for the two of you, at least. You could appreciate the peace. You even passed by the duck pond, and though empty, it was a little something that made a familiar smile tug at your lips. Something that made his eyes land on you, made your surroundings flicker with what seemed to be the familiarity of the moment. Of each other.

You glanced back at him, hearing the sound of a zipper and the soft rub of fabric on itself. You were met with the sight of a heap of black material being held out to you. You looked up at him questioningly, tilting your head to the side.

“You told Yuta you were cold.”

You blinked up at him for a moment, recalling that yes, indeed you’d told Yuta that. He’d been listening? Wow, quite the attentive one he was. Hesitantly, you took it from him, pushing your arms through the sleeves as you wrapped his jacket around you. “Thank you,” you said softly, a smile returning to your face. He just nodded, humming as you once again fell into step beside each other.

The figures of your friends grew closer in the dark of the approaching night, their faces all turning in your direction as the echo of your swift steps reached their senses. You were pulled from your conversation, the voices of your friends far too frantic for the moment, in your opinion. Or at least the voice of Yuji.

“Where were you?” Maki asked calmly, a contrast to the other vocals piercing through your ears. “Isn’t it obvious?” Toge began with a grin. “She was-“ he said, followed by a pathetic string of muffled words as Yuta slapped a hand over his mouth.

“I thought you died,” Yuji gasped, placing a hand on his forehead. You and Megumi shared a look, as if to say many things that couldn’t be voiced. You rolled your eyes, though amusement painted across your lips as you took in his dramatics. He was funny, at least he was that much.

Maki sighed, though her annoyance was obviously not pure. She shook her head at the antics of the others, nodding to you. “We’re gonna get going.” Ah, that was right. You’d driven together. You nodded, looking back to Megumi who had fallen a few steps behind you.

“Well, okay. Bye, Fushiguro,” you said. Something in his jaw ticked, and you could almost see the thoughts in his eyes. “What?” you said softly, so that it was only between the two of you.

“That’s not my name,” he said, a concealed bitterness behind his nonchalant tone. You’d always called him Megumi when you were younger, but that felt oddly casual now. Especially since his own best friends referred to him by his last name.

You let out a breath, a mix of a laugh and a sigh. “Sorry. Bye, Megumi,” you said. And with a small wave, you left. You almost caught the way satisfaction washed over him, the way it blanketed him as he began to feel something warm residing in his chest.

It wasn’t until you’d settled in the leather of Maki’s passenger seat that you remembered his jacket. Oh well, you’d just have to meet with him again to return it.

Taglist !¡ —

@1l-ynn @meowymeowbreow @missunrise @kiss-my-asscheeks @starrysho @good-mourning0 @gumims @beaniesayshi @mrowwww @luvvmae @megumislovedoll @qingpunk @azharyy @starsryi @tibibibi123 @rreveurdoll @idkidk32 @dazaisfavgf @tlissablr @vi0let-writes

Chat please stop threatening to kill yourselves and others the angst won’t kill you. ENOUGH also said mention of angst also butterfly effected a ghost into haunting me did yall know that ⁉️ I’m on ep 10 of aot ts peak gonna be my personality for a while anyway this was all written in one sitting and im half asleep so uh oops

#jjk #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen #megumi x reader #jjk smau #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro x reader

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eelnoise · 14 hours ago

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only this moment

zoro x gn!reader cw: fluff, first kisses, you and zoro are a little drunk an: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY BEAUTIFUL BELOVED AMAZING SWEET BOY. sorry it's a day late :( high key the prequel to this fic and it's sequel (both nsfw!) but more a fun fact than a requirement btw. wc: 4.2k

It's Zoro's birthday, and while he's never been one to make a fuss about it, this year the ship is conveniently docked for the night, giving the crew the perfect opportunity to celebrate. He doesn’t exactly mind—and it’s not like he can avoid it—he’s not used to the attention such a day brings. Leaning against the railing and staring off into the sunset, he remains quiet, distant in the way he always is.

But there’s a softness in the way his gaze lingers on the crew, their laughter and warmth filling the air beneath the fading light of the setting sun. The comfort it brings doesn’t feel strange anymore. It’s simply a part of his world now, like the rising and setting sun—familiar, irreplaceable, and quietly essential.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by the unmistakable sound of your footsteps approaching, your voice cutting through the noise of the crew. “You alright? Are they too much for ya?”

Zoro glances over his shoulder, his usual deadpan expression in place, but there's a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes as they land on you. "Nah, they’re not botherin’ me," he grumbles and shakes his head, his act deliberately nonchalant. “I’m alright.”

He’s good at hiding it, at playing off the unfamiliar tug in his chest every time you speak to him like that. But the truth is, he’s not used to the way your presence settles something in him, not used to how easy it feels just to be near you.

You smile, and it’s effortless, like you’ve known him for years, and maybe you have, but there’s something different about it tonight. Something that makes him feel strangely exposed, even though you’re only a few feet away. He’s used to being left alone, used to carrying the weight of his thoughts without anyone noticing, but with you, it’s like he can’t hide behind his usual walls.

Coming to a stop just next to him, Zoro turns around to properly face you and notices that you’re holding something behind your back. His brows furrow slightly, his eyes narrowing in a way that makes you think he’s already figured it out, even when he hasn’t.

“What’re you hiding?” he asks, his words slow and steady, but there’s a hint of curiosity beneath the surface—he’s trying too hard to play it off, and he still can’t quite mask it.

“I know you don't care much for gifts or whatever but—” His attention sharpens, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he just crosses his arms, a half-smirk tugging at his lips, like he’s willing to let you have your fun for now. But even then, his eyes don’t leave you, waiting, just a little too interested.

With a sly grin, you reach behind your back and pull out two bottles of sake, one in each hand. “I remembered how much you liked that sake from the island we visited last month,” you say, holding up the bottles for a closer look. “Thought it’d make a good birthday gift. Y’know, some good memories.”

You glance at him, offering a small, almost shy smile. There’s no big gesture, no over-the-top presentation—just something simple that you thought he'd appreciate.

Zoro is speechless, his arms still crossed over his chest, trying to keep his composure and not let on to how much the gesture seems to throw him off. He’s not used to being on the receiving end of things, and gifts are especially new territory. For a long moment, he just stares, his eyes flitting from the bottles in your hands to your face, like he’s waiting for the punchline. But it never comes.

He wasn’t expecting anything. He didn’t want anything. Still, as you stand there before him, looking so genuine and kind and truthful, something within him swells. A warm feeling blossoming in his chest.

Zoro swallows, his words a little rough, more vulnerable than he wants them to be. “Didn’t have to do that,” he mutters, but there’s a quiet fondness in his expression that contradicts his words. He holds out his hand, silently asking for the bottles, waiting patiently for you to hand one to him.

You offer a bottle, and he takes it from your hands, his fingers brushing yours for just a second. He hesitates, clearly unsure of how to respond, before muttering, “Thanks...” in that awkward way he does when he’s caught off guard. But then, as if a thought suddenly strikes him, he looks up, a hint of something softer in his eyes.

“Hey... you wanna share a bottle?” he asks, his tone casual, but there's an underlying sincerity there. He quickly clears his throat, as if the offer itself was a bit more vulnerable than he meant it to be. "I mean, you went out of your way to get it for me. Least I can do is share."

The way he says it—slightly gruff but definitely not uninterested—makes it clear that he doesn't want you to walk off just yet. It's not just about the sake. He wants you to stick around.

You grin, “Of course I do, in fact…” trailing off, you quickly produce two shot glasses from your back pocket—stashed just for this very instance in mind. The small glass makes a soft clink against the wood as you slide one over the railing to Zoro with a knowing look. “I figured you'd be in the mood for a drink," you add, gesturing for him to have the first pour.

He catches the glass between his fingers and uncorks the bottle to pours the clear liquid gently into the small glass. Raising it to his lips, he swirls it slightly before taking a sip. The alcohol burns pleasantly down his throat, warming him from the inside out. He lets out a satisfied sigh, his shoulders relaxing a bit.

"Not bad," he comments, raising his glass in a silent toast before taking another drink. His eyes linger on you, studying your face in the fading light. "You know me well," he adds, his expression thoughtful, as though he's still processing the simple truth in the words.

Zoro tilts his head slightly, studying you in a way that's both casual and strangely intense before handing the bottle over to you. He watches you closely as you fill your glass up, his focus once again lingering on your face, as if trying to read you.

You take the bottle with a small, knowing grin, your fingers brushing his as you accept it. Your glass is already in hand, and you pour a generous amount, the clear liquid catching the last of the fading sunlight. As you bring the glass to your lips, you meet his gaze, holding it just long enough to make him wonder whether you’re savoring the moment or just being playful. The warmth of the alcohol spreads quickly, but it's not enough to dull the sharpness of the connection between you both.

The night stretches on and the deck clears out, leaving Zoro and you settled into a comfortable rhythm, now relaxed with your backs against the hull, the warmth from the alcohol fighting the chill of the crisp sea wind. The conversation has shifted from casual banter to deeper, quieter exchanges, though neither of you is particularly worried about keeping things serious for long.

But now, his eyes are fixed on you in that way he always has when he's trying to figure something out—or just when he's being his usual teasing self. You’ve had a few too many, and while you’re not exactly stumbling, your laughter has taken on a loose, carefree quality—and for a moment he’s so taken with you he doesn’t catch the smile in his cheeks.

Zoro’s expression doesn’t escape your notice, making your brow furrow. “What’s with the look?” you ask, flashing a playful grin.

He smirks, taking another swig from his glass before leaning against the railing. “You’re such a lightweight, ya know that?”

“Anyone’s a lightweight compared to you, dude.” You reply, rolling your eyes slowly, but with a touch of amusement, you let out a little laugh. It’s hard to stay annoyed with that smug grin of his.

There's a dare in his poise, playful and teasing, but with an edge of something else—a spark of excitement, a hint of mischief. With his back pressed against the cool, rough wood of the wall, he shifts just enough so his gaze locks with yours.

Zoro chuckles, low and deep, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Maybe so, but I bet I could still outdrink you any day."

There's a challenge in his tone, playful and teasing, but with a hint of something else—an edge of excitement, a spark of mischief. With his back pressed against the cool, rough wood of the ship, he shifts just enough so his look meets yours.

"What do you say? Think you can handle a little competition?" he asks, a hint of teasing in his words.

You nod eagerly, your eyes lighting up with the same mischievous energy. A slow grin spreads across your face, the alcohol lending you the courage to match his boldness. "Oh, I'm game," you reply, shifting slightly closer, your thigh brushing against his as you adjust your position. "What are you thinking?"

Zoro's eyes glint with mischief, his lips curling into a sly smirk. "Simple," he says, his voice low. "We take turns guessing something about each other. If you're wrong, you take a shot."

He tilts his head, his gaze never leaving yours. The mischief in his eyes still lingers, but there's a lighter edge to it now, a playful gleam that makes the moment feel less intense and more... electric in its own way. The air between you shifts, not a spark, but something that quickens the beat of your heart.

The thought of being so close, trading secrets and truths, sends a little thrill through you. Even in the dim light, you can see every detail of his face, his expression open, his eyes sharp with interest. It's intimate in a way both familiar and new, and your heart hammers in your chest.

“You're on," you reply, the words coming out a little more breathless than you intended. "But don't think I'm gonna go down easily."

Zoro’s smirk deepens, his stare never wavering from yours, the tease in his eyes sharp and unwavering. He leans in slightly, a flicker of amusement dancing in his look. “Let me guess," he says smooth and confidently. "Your biggest fear... it’s not something simple, right? Nah, I bet it’s something that really gets under your skin." He pauses, studying you with a critical eye, before letting out a slow breath. "I’m gonna say... it’s being helpless. Not being able to protect the people you care about."

His words hang in the air, his eyes still locked onto yours, as if he's daring you to confirm or deny it. The intensity of his gaze is almost too much, but you can’t help but feel a strange warmth at the fact that he’s thought so deeply about it.

A shiver runs down your spine at how close he is, the way his voice wraps around the words, and the sheer truth of it all. You swallow, trying to keep your expression neutral as you meet his eyes.

“Damn," you murmur, a hint of surprise in your voice. "That's more accurate than I care to admit. How the hell did you guess that?"

Zoro laughs, "Maybe I just know you that well, eh?" He playfully nudges you, the alcohol, and you, are calming him more than he'd like to admit. He's very comfortable in this moment, and it's something he can't deny to himself, so why not indulge in the rare privacy? "Drink up." He adds with a nod.

A soft laugh escapes your lips, the sound a little shaky. "Seems like it," you mutter, the reality of how well he knows you sending a strange wave of heat through your chest.

Following his instruction, you swallow down a hefty gulp of liquid courage, the burn of the alcohol sliding down your throat. You exhale, the feeling only adding to the flutter in your stomach.

"All right, my turn," you say, trying to steady your voice despite the flutter in your chest. "I've got a pretty good guess for you, too."

Zoro leans back slightly, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. "Alright, let's hear it," he replies, low and curiously, the challenge in his tone still present but tempered by an edge of amusement.

"I think..." you begin taking in his relaxed, more casual expression. It makes you smile, and you don't think about trying to hide it, either, "You're a big softie, and I think that you know it."

The smile falls, and he looks almost surprised, like he wasn't expecting you to be so perceptive. But then, his eyes narrow, and his smirk returns, only with a flicker of something softer. "Oh, so we're gonna play like that, huh?" He chides, his playful act never faltering.

Mhm," you confirm with a nod and a sly grin. "Now answer the question, softie."

Zoro clicks his tongue in annoyance as he realizes you’ve caught him in a rare moment of vulnerability. He runs a hand through his hair, his chuckle low and almost reluctant.

“Dammit,” he mutters, shifting against the railing with a sigh. He falls silent, studying you in the dim light like he's weighing whether to keep up the act. His gaze softens just slightly as he exhales. “Alright, fine, you got me,” he admits, the words gruff but unavoidably sincere. “Guess I do have my moments.”

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with that," you note, tilting your head slightly and softening your tone, a playful glint in your eyes. You scoot a little closer, your inflection gentler now, as if you're letting him in on something only the two of you share. "Makes you human, you know? And honestly, it’s kinda... nice, seeing you let your guard down for once."

Zoro's lips twitch in response, a strange vulnerability in the way he responds to your words.

"Yeah, I guess it does," he replies, scratching the back of his head. He looks away as if embarrassed by the admission. "Still, I'm not about to go around announcing it to the world—I have an image to maintain, ya know."

You catch the flicker of that vulnerability, and the teasing smile on your lips softens just a bit. “Your secret is safe with me,” you assure him with a wink. “You can keep being the big, tough guy on deck, but I won’t spill.” You give him a playful nudge, your tone light but warm. “Now drink up, softie—let's see how long you can hold onto that image.”

Zoro lets out a rough laugh, the sound just a touch shaky, as if he's more affected by the moment than he'd like to let on. He takes the glass and tips it back, taking a long swallow. "All right, then. My turn to guess, huh?

A soft hum of amusement escapes your lips as you watch him drain the glass. "Mhm," you confirm with a nod, a small, satisfied smile on your face. "Let's see what you've got."

Zoro sets the glass down with a soft clink, his eyes locked on your face. A smirk twists at his lips, and he leans forward, resting his chin on his hand, his expression sharp and playful.

"I think..." he begins, his voice dropping slightly, "you're a lot more observant than you let on. You catch things that I wouldn't dream of, and sometimes, you just know what I'm thinking before I do. But, you're also pretty damn stubborn."

Your eyebrows arch at his observation, both impressed and slightly taken aback. It's eerily astute, and you know you can't deny it. With a sigh, you lean your head back and tilt your head toward with a wry smile.

"Oh? What kind of things do you notice that I catch?," you murmur, unable to hide the hint of surprise in your reaction. "And someone has to be stubborn to put up with you." You add with a tease.

Zoro chuckles, the sound low and throaty. He leans in close, a teasing smile on his lips. "Oh yeah? And who said I need putting up with?"

He tilts his head, studying your grin for a moment before continuing. "You're smart," he remarks thoughtfully. "You pick up on things the rest of the crew doesn't, like when I'm irritated or when I'm lying. It's a pain in the ass."

The truth falling from his lips hits you hard, he feels genuine. Totally real and just honest with you right now. It dawns on you that Zoro lets you see him this way, and to deny the butterflies in your stomach would be a lie to the world.

"Leaves an impression though, yeah?" You force out, though the words are slightly sheepish. "I mean, we're here talking now, so you must like me enough to keep around."

Zoro's laugh is softer this time, a hint of something warm and almost fond in his expression.

"Yeah, I guess I do," he admits, shaking his head slightly. The night's quiet around you, except for the soft sound of the waves lapping against the hull. "You're stubborn and annoying as hell, but... yeah, I like you."

"I'm glad," you reply, letting the playful tease linger. You shift a little closer, your voice softening, but the warmth is still there. "It's nice 'putting up with you,' even if you make it way harder than it needs to be." You let out a small laugh, meeting his gaze with a fond smile. "But I guess someone has to deal with you, right?"

Zoro rolls his eyes playfully, as the gesture makes you giggle. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, don't get too cocky about it," he replies, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

But then there’s a stillness between you two. A quiet that feels different from the rest of the night. His attention lingers on you, the air thickening in a way that makes everything feel closer—heavier, more intimate.

You’re not sure when it happened, but suddenly, you’re sitting so close that you can feel the warmth of his body against yours. His breath brushes against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as he tilts his head down, his eyes locking intently onto yours. He can’t help but notice how your presence seems to fill the space between, how the world around you fades to just the soft rhythm of your breathing, the quiet pulse of the moment.

Time seems to slow as your proximity to him registers fully. Zoro's heart skips a beat as he realizes how close you've gotten, the feel of your warm breath against his skin causing a shiver to race down his spine. Instinctively, he wants to pull back, to distance himself from this vulnerability, but something holds him in place.

Despite every instinct screaming at him to pull away, he finds himself stuck in place. Your proximity is intoxicating, making his heart race in his chest. And then, without a thought—pure impulse—he leans in.

His lips meet yours, firm and sure in a kiss that's both unexpected and exhilarating. The rest of the ship falls away, and now, it's just him and you, the alcohol loosening his inhibitions and fueling the fire that's been quietly building between you.

Zoro's hand moves almost on its own, reaching out to tangle in the soft strands of your hair, pulling you closer against him. The heat of the moment, fueled by the alcohol and the low thrum of tension that's always hung between you, is overwhelming. It feels both familiar and completely new, and his mind struggles to keep up with the onslaught of feeling.

It's slightly awkward, he isn't sure exactly what he's doing but gets the jest of it, the initial clumsiness rapidly melts away as he gets lost in the kiss. It's clear he's never been in this exact situation before, yet his instincts guide him as he lets himself be swept away by the moment.

His other hand moves to your waist, pulling you flush against him, the feel of your body against his suddenly more electrifying than anything he's ever felt.

As he pulls you against him, his arm wrapping around your waist, a low rumble of appreciation escapes his throat. The feeling of your body against his is electric in a way he's never experienced, the heat between you growing hotter with each passing moment. It's different from a fight, but the adrenaline feels just as battle would.

He pulls away from you and there’s a beat of silence. The world seems to pause around you both, and for a moment, neither of you knows what to say. Zoro’s hand is still tangled in your hair, his fingers brushing lightly against your scalp as if he’s holding onto something grounding. His breath comes out in a shaky exhale, his eyes never leave yours and they’re flickering with something unreadable.

"I... I, uh..." he mutters, his words stumbling in a way that's completely out of character for him. The usually confident, aloof first mate is blushing like a damn tomato, and it makes something warm stir in your chest.

You can't help but smile, the cool night air doing little to quell the warmth spreading through you from that kiss. It's an unexpected, but not unwelcome, shift in the air between you. "It was nice," you say, your voice soft but steady, letting him know you're not about to make this more awkward than it already feels, "But I understand, we’re both probably a little... off balance right now."

Zoro glances at you, a flicker of relief in his eyes before he looks away again, clearly trying to regain some of his usual composure. "You... should probably get some sleep," he mutters, his gaze darting to the deck, clearly embarrassed by his own reaction.

You chuckle softly, though there's no judgment in it—just a quiet understanding. "Yeah... yeah, you're right. But no worries, I’m not going to hold it against you," you tease, the teasing lightness still there, but without any pressure. You're still floating somewhere between cloud nine and feeling completely grounded in the moment.

Zoro exhales, a little too sharply, before he slowly releases his grip on you, his hand drifting back to his side. There's a beat of silence as he clears his throat, looking sheepish for the first time tonight. It’s kind of cute, honestly.

"Here, let me..." he starts again, his words are rough but calmer than usual. "I’ll help get you to bed."

He reaches out for your hand, his fingers firm but careful as he takes it in his own. The gesture feels different now—gentler, more deliberate—and it makes your heart skip a beat. It’s endearing, how much he’s trying to be careful with you, and for once, it’s nice to see him not so sure of himself. You feel a little giddy, but you don’t pull away.

He guides you slowly across the deck, the atmosphere still charged with unspoken tension. As you walk, you can feel his gaze flick to you every so often, as if he's checking to make sure you're alright.

The sound of footsteps on the deck is the only break in the silence. Finally, you reach the door to your quarters, and Zoro stops, turning to face you.

He stands there, still holding your hand, clearly at a loss for what to do next. The low light catches his features in a way that makes him seem more vulnerable than usual, and for a brief moment, he seems unsure of himself—something you don’t see often. His mouth opens and closes as if he’s trying to find the right words but keeps getting stuck.

“You… you, uh, you get some sleep, okay?” His voice sounds softer than it’s ever been, a little awkward, sure, but there’s a gentleness to it that you weren’t expecting. It's like he wants to make sure you're okay after everything.

You smile, your heart fluttering at how cute he's being. "You too, Zoro," you reply, squeezing his hand lovingly and flashing him a warm, sweet smile. “And happy birthday.”

Zoro’s face flushes a deeper shade of red, and his ears go a bit pink too. It's so obvious now how much the night has affected him. He quickly looks away, mumbling something too quiet for you to catch.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, his demeanor a little gruff but still somehow tender. He glances at you again, then looks away quickly, embarrassed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?.”

You give him one last smile before you turn to leave and Zoro watches you disappear into the room beyond, his heart beating a little faster than usual, and the warmth from your smile lingers with him long after you’ve disappeared into the night. He stands there for a while, staring at the spot where you were standing, and when he finally heads to his quarters, the usual brash first mate is nowhere to be found.

When he settles in his own bunk, Zoro's mind keeps replaying the moments with you. He can't help but smile—just a little, but it's there, soft and real. He lies in the dark, still feeling the warmth of your hand in his, and it brings an unfamiliar but comforting warmth to his chest. It’s not something he’s used to, but... it feels nice.

Zoro drifts off to sleep with a small, genuine smile still on his face, the first real one he’s had in a long time.

@tetzoro here is ur tag hehe

#roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x you #zoro x you #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro roronoa x you #one piece zoro #op zoro #zoro fluff #op x reader #op fluff

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joannasprose · 1 day ago

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can you write hcs of ellie williams x nervous reader based on your last fic? i loved it so much ahh

of course I can! thank you so much for the request :)

sorry this kinda turned out a little longer than I expected it to be, but I hope you love it nonetheless! 💜 (I also don’t know if these would count as nervous, she is nervous—but more anxious, distant?)

content warning: hurt/comfort, overthinking, anxiety, anxiousness, bad habits, not proofread, I think that’s it (?)

———

| ellie williams with a nervous!reader, who doesn’t mind speaking for her. Ellie herself isn’t much of a talker—but the two of you are on different spectrums. While Ellie does not go out of her way to talk to people, that doesn’t mean she’s scared. Just awkward, not really surprising. You, on the other hand,, she watches as you just stand nervously to the side, eyes looking everywhere but at the person in from of you. So she’s taken the role of speaking to people when you don’t feel particularly up to it. :)

—

You standthere, arm wrapped around Ellie’s as you watch her conversed in conversation. It’s annoying, really. Feeling as the words get caught up in your throat.

Sometimes, when you watch Ellie talk with people, when you watch her talk for you, you find yourself feeling envious of how easy it comes. Of course, you had known Ellie was awkward—you’d known it since the first day you met her. But she had never been afraid to speak her mind. Unlike you. Who stumbled on words wedged deeply into your anxious mind.

“You okay?” She asks, pulling you out of your dissociative state, and making you focus your attention entirely on her.

You smile as you speak, “I’m fine,” you say, honestly. You sit perched on her lap now, her hand cradles your waist, and she’s looking up to you now. “Okay,” she says hesitantly, “just let me know when you wanna go, okay?” You nod your head in agreement, watching as she turns away, her hand gripping your waist a little tighter to let you know she’s there.

***

You and Ellie lay in bed together, your curled into her and her hand rests on your cheek.

“Y/N, are you okay?” She asks, this time it’s a little more stern than usual. Not harsh. But not soft. You look up to her, watching as her hazel eyes look over all of your features—once again, making you nervous.

“Sometimes I feel like my anxieties is kinda a burden. I don’t know. I just don’t want you to be worried for me all the time.”

You hear Ellie scoff. Laugh, basically.

“It doesn’t matter whether you’re nervous or not, okay? I’ll always worry about you.” You smile as you curl further into her. Her hand that once rest on your cheek, not rests on the back of your head—soothing you to sleep in the wake of the night.

—

| Ellie who makes sure you aren’t indulging in your bad habits; whether that’s picking at your nail beds, not saying what’s completely on your mind, rubbing your hands against the fabric of your clothes. She wants you to be as comfortable as possible. Even if it’s only a little.

—

| Ellie Williams, who comforts you in your overthinking. She found that when dating you, it had only come sparsely in its rarity—but your doubts of her wanting you was there. But she was always there to soothe those needless feelings.

***

“You think I don’t want you?” She asks, brows furrowed deeply.

Again, though not unusual, you avoid her gaze as you speak, “I don’t know. Sometimes I just don’t know why you would want me. It’s stupid. I’m just overthinking again.” And before you know it, Ellie’s lips are pressed against yours—and they are soft as they always were. Delicate, gentle, and real.

“I know I can’t it them go away. Not now, at least. But I always want you. Even when you don’t think I do, all I find myself wanting is you.”

—

| And for the last headcanon, I picture Ellie always being there as you are for her. When she needs you, you’re always there—always there to guide her when in need. And she treasures you for that. Ellie handles you, speaks of you, and thinks of you with care. At least she tries to. Most of the time. Even if she does get frustrated—because no is perfect—she never hesitates to assure you of her love. She knows that her anger can sometimes be reckless—but she tries her best to make it up to you if she ever makes you feel less than what she knows you as. Perfect.

#the last of us 2 #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams x nervous!reader

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biting-miguel-ohara · 2 days ago

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Runaway - Logan Howlett x platonic!Reader

A/N: This is a fox mutant!Reader story based on this request. I tried to get it as close to the request as I could, but idk if I succeeded. I think it’s good either way

Written for a gn!Reader

Reader is an unspecified age, but is a student and is called kid in the fic

CW: fox mutant!Reader; platonic!Reader; young!Reader; mentions of past bullying; Reader runs outside a lot; very mild Professor X hate; Reader has animal instincts; Reader has heightened senses; sorta written for original movie trilogy Logan; Reader is called kid; Reader is a little wild; Reader has animal characteristics; Reader adopts Logan into their pack; what is a praise kink without the kink part? A natural desire for praise, I guess???; I don’t know how to tag this; fluff

637 words

You hated the school.

It was too… clean. Too neat and tidy. Everything smelled… sterile. Like cleaning agents and sanitizer.

The kids were interesting, you supposed. You’d always considered your mutation a curse, given all the bullying it had caused at your old school. But now? Everyone was a weirdo here.

The teachers were even weirder. But they were accepting, so that was a bonus. You still hated the school though.

Most of the time, instead of going to class, you’d skip out and hide in the woods. Obeying your animal instincts begging you to run and jump and play and be feral. You’d always be found eventually, but it was fun while it lasted.

Today, you’re deeper in than you’ve ever been before. You’re stalking through the forest, reveling in the scent of the trees and the leaves and the grass. Basking in the wind and the sun and the fresh air.

You can feel the tug at your mind. The telltale voice murmuring it’s time to return. You hate the Professor for it. The way he so easily invades your mind. It’s why he never comes himself.

You, of course, ignore the call. Instead, you head deeper into the woods, following the sound of a nearby stream. It’ll be a couple hours at least before any of the usual teachers find you. More than enough time for a play break.

But it’s barely any time before a new scent filters through from upwind. Musky and thick, like cigars and engine grease. You tense, tail swishing uneasily.

It doesn’t smell like a hunter, but it also doesn’t smell like any of the teachers you know. You crouch, instinct making you press back and hide behind a tree. You go still, watching. Waiting.

The sound of footsteps approaches. They sound lighter than you’d expected. Soon the person comes into view.

It’s a man. Bulky and rugged, wearing a leather jacket and jeans. Smoking a cigar in the middle of the woods.

Maybe it’s his stance. Or the undertones of his scent, woodsy and soapy. Or maybe it’s the way he scans the area, clearly looking for you. As if he knows what he’s doing.

But he’s certainly different than the other teachers and something within you knows it. There’s a familiar sense to him. A predator instinct, just like yours. You decide you like him.

“Come on, kid. Professor wants you back.“

Yeah, you definitely like him. He sounds almost bored, but you can catch the note of sympathy in his tone. Somehow you know he knows you want to be out here. Maybe he does too.

With a sigh, you step out from behind your tree. Trudging up to him with your tail drooped and ears flattened. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

He studies you for a moment before nodding. “You’re good at running. That’s good. You’ll need to be.”

You blink. Tilt your head a little. You’ve only ever been told that your tendency to run is a problem. His words send a flood of pride through you.

Your ears unflatten and your tail sways a bit. You grin and show off your sharp teeth. A little more aggressive than needed, but you think he understands. You’re not some helpless human. Even young, you’re smart and full of fire.

For a moment, he seems to eye you with a bit of respect. Then he turns away. “Come on. It’s almost dinner time.”

He sets off at a quick pace and you follow easily. Yeah, you really like him. Anyone else would go slow or tell you to keep up. He’s different.

And you’re definitely adopting him into your pack. He’s given you a bite of praise and you want more. Whether he likes it or not, you’re his problem now.

No matter what anyone else says.

Logan Howlett Taglist: @yhlqmdlg @alekkkkssss

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inawickedlittletown · 1 day ago

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One Year - BuckTommy - 8x06 fix it

Summary: This is my fix-it because I for one can't take that break up being the end. So, it takes a while, but they belong together. Words: 6k Read on Ao3

The first time he saw Evan again, it was from afar. It had been a couple of weeks. They were at the same call, Tommy somehow winding up on the ground. He spotted Evan walking next to Eddie with Howie and Hen just ahead of them, heard their voices despite how loud everything was. He kept his distance, and only once ran into someone from the 118. Ravi, who gave him a smile and nod.

The next time, it was at one of the badge and ladder bars. Lucy had forced him to go. Had she not been holding his arm, he would have turned and fled. Instead he saw Evan throw back a shot and then walk over to some guy whose physique told Tommy he had to be a firefighter. He saw as Evan said something that made the other guy laugh and then they were getting drinks together and…and Lucy took him out the door while he tried to catch a breath.

Tommy wasn’t new to a break up…it was just that this one was hitting harder than any before.

Before Evan, there had been three boyfriends. Before and in between were hookups and one-night stands and even some friends with benefits that popped in and out of his life. He’d come out when he was in his early thirties, around the same age as Evan. Of course, for Tommy it had been different. He’d been hiding it from everyone and even from himself.

In the army, he and some other guys had had a bit of fun. Masturbating together and pretending it was all fine and heterosexual because they weren’t touching each other. He’d exchanged one or two blowjobs here or there like an exchange of favors with guys that had girlfriends waiting for them back home. He lied and told them he had a girl too. Pretended he didn’t like giving as much as he liked receiving.

Things were much the same when he was at the 118, except that pretending he had a girlfriend was harder. He even tried to date women. Abby…he’d met Abby when the 118 went to a call about her mother. She’d almost burnt down her whole house by forgetting to turn off a stove and looking back that had definitely been an early sign of her dementia. Abby was nice and Tommy couldn’t deny that he got along with her and it helped that she understood how busy his job kept him and what his hours were like.

Dating Abby was the first time he felt like maybe he could do it. Marry the girl. Have some kids. Lie to himself and the world forever. As unfair as it was to Abby, it just…Tommy could tell that it might work. It was why they got engaged. It was why he was so sure about getting married but then there were guys he met on calls or that he checked out from time to time and he didn’t think he would ever be able to put that away. Instead, he would wind up cheating on Abby and making the hurt worse. So, he broke it off and felt horrible when he realized that Abby had gotten the blow of her mom’s dementia diagnosis.

After Abby, Tommy went a little wild. He slept around. Found out more about himself. Knew that he could never do what he did to Abby to any other woman. He heard at some point about Abby taking up with a younger guy. In what universe could Tommy have expected that years later he would date the same guy.

One night, he ran into Karen at a Target of all places. Tommy was there to pick up detergent and he was just deciding between brand name or the store brand and also trying his hardest to not buy the brand he knew that Evan used, when a cart bumped into his.

“I’m so sorry,” Karen said.

He looked up slowly.

“Tommy,” Karen said warmly. “Hi.”

Behind her came Denny and Mara. Mara he’d only met a handful of times and he knew her to be a little shy. Denny smiled at him.

“Hi, Tommy.”

“Oh. Hi,” Tommy said. “You got your cast off.”

Denny nodded. “A little while ago.”

He remembered sitting in that hospital waiting room and how he’d tagged along to Denny’s room and hadn’t expected that Denny would want him to sign his cast seeing as he was all but a stranger, but Denny did offer him the marker and Tommy did sign.

Despite wanting to, he didn’t ask about Evan. He hardly managed to ask about Hen.

“She’s good,” Karen said and then, “hey, listen, you don’t have to be a stranger.”

He offered her a tight smile.

“I’m serious. Hey, how about dinner soon?”

He shrugged and Karen insisted, pulling out her phone and throwing dates at him until he agreed.

Before she left, Karen grabbed his arm. “I don’t know what happened, no one really does, Hen says he doesn’t want to talk about it. You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to, but that doesn’t mean you’re not our friend still, Alright? That doesn’t just go for Hen and I, either.”

Eddie had reached out the day after. The day after that too. And the one after that one. Then it was weekly. Then it was bi-weekly. Then came a final message. A voicemail. Tommy almost didn’t listen to it.

“Hey, man,” Eddie said. “I guess you decided to cut all ties. I get it. Kind of. And look, Buck is my friend, but you are too and I don’t drop my friends. I know you’re hurting too, so don’t be afraid to reach out. I’m here for whenever you’re ready.”

Tommy never called him. He thought about it. Almost texted him several times. He missed Eddie.

He missed their easy friendship and the way that Eddie had welcomed him so wholly. He just couldn’t face him because Eddie would give it all away about how Evan was doing and Tommy wouldn’t be able to keep his own feelings in. It would burst out and then Eddie would know just how horrible Tommy really felt and how regretful too.

He did regret it.

He hated himself.

Tommy went to dinner with Hen and Karen. It was good. Fun, even. Neither of them asked and Tommy didn’t offer any information. Instead, he got to hear about Mara’s adoption going through finally and about how Maddie was pregnant and doing really well. He tried not to think about Evan becoming an uncle for the second time and how excited he had to be over it. They exchanged Lucy stories and then stories from way back when Tommy was in the 118. Tommy promised they would do dinner again.

The next time he ran into Evan, it had been more time than they had even been together. Tommy shouldn’t still be mourning the end of the relationship and yet…of course he was. Of course he still missed Evan desperately. So much for waylaying a heartbreak, there hadn’t been stopping that apparently and seeing Evan was like having someone reach right into his chest and squeeze.

The first guy that he ever called boyfriend was a guy named Ivan. Ivan was a little older…okay, much older, and Tommy thought he was in love. Figured that was it and that he and Ivan could be forever. When Ivan broke it off because he met someone else, Tommy was devastated.

“Tommy, I’m your first boyfriend, of course this wasn’t going to last. I always thought we were on the same page and that this was a bit of fun.”

A month or so later, Tommy realized that Ivan was right. He wasn’t torn up and he hadn’t been in love as much as wanting the security of the relationship because it meant he didn’t need to keep looking for love. He’d gotten comfortable with Ivan, but what they hadn’t wasn’t something that would last no matter how much Tommy had thought it was what he wanted.

The second guy came a year or so later. Paul was younger and Tommy met him while they were on a call. When Paul came by with muffins a few days later they got talking and Paul admitted that he was nervous but he’d wanted to see Tommy again. They had a few dates and then Tommy was rushing in with Paul. They spent every moment together and then moved in together too.

When they broke up right before their one year anniversary, it was because Paul admitted that he never thought his first real relationship with a guy could be his last and that he had more options to explore.

“Tommy, you were amazing. You will always be so important to me, but I’m not in love with you.”

Somehow, that still hurt less than Evan and Tommy only had himself to blame for that.

He saw Evan at a farmer’s market. He was with Jee-Yun who skipped ahead of him laughing. Evan was smiling after her. Tommy didn’t mean to follow, but he did keep his distance. Saw Evan buy a few things and smile at the girl that sold them to him, saw him stop at a stand selling apple cider, the man behind the counter blond and tall and bulky. Hot. His eyes were hazel and he was smiling at Evan and ignoring anyone else that approached. Evan was smiling back and doing that thing where he ducked his head bashfully before looking up through his eyelashes. Tommy’s heart ached.

Tommy walked away from that. He turned and he walked until he was back at his car and then he sat there in his truck and let his mind wander because what if Evan asked that guy out? Or the girl? What if one of them wasn’t dumb like Tommy and stuck around and refused to let Evan go. What if Tommy never got a chance to…but he’d already blown his chance with Evan and he doubted there would ever be another.

When he got to his shift later, Lucy took one look at him.

“Hey, you okay?”

“I don’t think I’ve been okay for months.”

Lucy hugged him. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened?” she asked.

He shook his head.

It was hard to even admit to himself how much he’d screwed up and how much he’d allowed his fear to color how he faced Evan wanting more than what they already had. He’d been unprepared when Evan brought it up and then it had been the Abby of it all and the way that Tommy knew he couldn’t expect for Evan to settle for him. That just wasn’t how it worked. He was the first, but not the last. Tommy just wasn’t good enough to be Evan’s last and it was something that Evan would figure out sooner or later. So why wait for their whole lives to get even more entwined and for everything to be so much harder when it all fell apart.

One night, when Lucy showed up at his house to hang out, she had tried to bad-talk Evan as if that would help. It was the night she dropped information that Tommy hadn’t known and wasn’t it wild how much he and Evan had inadvertently not shared. Six months and they hadn’t talked about anything at all, apparently.

Lucy and Evan had kissed once while drunk at a bar.

The jealousy that hit him was…Tommy wasn’t usually a jealous guy and yet the very idea made him cringe and maybe he downed two shots back to back.

“I kissed him,” Lucy said. “He didn’t push me away and I had no idea that he had a girlfriend at the time.”

It didn’t make him think badly of Evan, not the way that Lucy maybe intended. It just…it made Tommy wonder about how it would have gone if he was right. Would Evan have cheated on him once he realized he wanted more than what Tommy was willing to offer. But no…no, that wasn’t Evan was it? No, Evan would have stuck it out even when he got miserable and didn’t want to anymore and then Tommy would have had to say something and end it.

“What happened after that?” Tommy had asked.

“Between me and Buck? Nothing. I’m just saying, he isn’t this perfect guy either.”

As if Tommy didn’t know that, as if Tommy hadn’t seen exactly who Evan was from the get go. He was a mess, he was jealous, impulsive, he believed in curses, got pouty when he didn’t get his way. Evan was far from perfect, but Tommy had loved him because of it. He saw how much of the bad was still good or maybe not even bad at all.

Lucy did leave him thinking about how they had never discussed exes until Abby and how maybe they should have. He wondered if Evan would have even brought up the Lucy of it all. He wondered how he would have taken Tommy’s own exes…Ivan and Paul and…and Henry.

Henry was the last boyfriend before Evan. Gorgeous Henry who began as a friend and then started to get a bit flirty and who kissed Tommy for the first time at a New Years Eve party and then freaked out because Tommy was a guy.

Weeks of not talking and Tommy not being able to stop thinking about him to an obsessive degree. How on Valentine’s day, he was surprised when red roses and chocolate was delivered to Harbor from Henry to Tommy and a simple note asking him out. He’d gotten so much shit for that, but Tommy had secretly loved it. The romance of it all, the sweetness. Henry had been so sweet.

Henry who told Tommy that he was sorry but he had no idea guys were an option for him and how he couldn’t deny how much he wanted Tommy. They had long conversations about it and Tommy took it so slow that they didn’t even have sex for the first two months.

Tommy didn’t realize that their feelings were different. Tommy had been crushing on Henry even before the kiss and then he had him. Henry had been mystified by Tommy and his attraction to him, but it wasn’t long before his eyes started to wander. Tommy had bought his house right before they started dating and when Henry’s roommate situation got a bit difficult he welcomed him right in. It had felt like the start of the rest of their lives. That had been a mistake.

Tommy had been so blind. Looking back, the red flags had been evident. He’d been blinded by love and friendship and daydreams about a future he thought was within his grasp. Then, one night, when he managed to sprain an ankle, Tommy was first taken to the hospital and then sent home a whole thirteen hours earlier than expected. Henry hadn’t answered his calls, so Tommy got back home on his own. He found Henry in bed with a woman.

The last time he saw Henry, it was when Henry picked up the last of his things and when Henry made his apologies and excuses it felt like Ivan and Paul before him.

Tommy was never enough. Not enough. Always the placeholder for something or someone better.

“Why not just break up with me?” Tommy remembered asking.

“I didn’t know how. You were so…I’m sorry, Tommy. I guess I’m not done trying to figure out what I want.”

The one thing Henry had figured out was that Tommy was not what he wanted.

He did cry after Henry and then he threw himself into work and downloaded an app or two and didn’t try to date seriously. He had friends to call on lonely nights and then he could hit up a bar and find someone that way. Tommy had all but convinced him that it was all he’d ever have, until he met a firefighter with a cute birthmark who Tommy kissed without having planned to and who he almost wrote off after the first date and was so glad he didn’t. Breaking up with Evan was hitting harder than anyone that came before.

Evan was different. He had burrowed deep in his heart and there was no getting him out. Tommy didn’t think he wanted him out.

A few weeks later, he saw Eddie at the mall and with him was Christopher. He looked taller than the last time Tommy had seen him, and he was in LA. Eddie looked happy. Of course, he was happy. Tommy hated that he didn’t know when Chris had returned or how Eddie had won him over again.

“Tommy,” Eddie said.

“Tommy,” Christopher said.

Had it been just Eddie, Tommy might have ignored them. Instead, he turned around.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hey,” Eddie said with a smile.

“Hi, Tommy,” Christopher said.

“Hey, kid, nice to see you back in LA.”

Chris gave him a rundown of his time in Texas. He talked about the friends he made and his cousins and grandparents, but how Eddie had gone to see him and then Chris decided to come back with him.

It was nice to talk to Chris and then to follow Eddie and Chris into one of the stores. Chris got distracted then, and Eddie turned to Tommy.

“How are you really?”

“It’s been months,” Tommy said.

“I know. You never called me back. You should have,” Eddie said.

“I couldn’t,” Tommy said. “You’re…how is he, Eddie?”

Eddie took in a breath. “Look, I don’t think I should answer that. Buck is coping. He’s doing…what did he call it, he’s exploring. Apparently, it’s what you told him he needed to do.” Eddie’s look was pointed. Full of judgment.

Tommy had to look away, he had to hope that his eyes wouldn’t fill up with tears. That night, right after he left Evan’s place, Tommy didn’t even remember how he got home. He did remember that he’d gone for his usual comforts. A shot of whiskey, a case of beer, and he’d tried to watch a movie and failed miserably. Hadn’t been able to watch romantic comedies since. Documentaries were out too.

“Dad,” Christopher called.

“I — I’ll leave you to it,” Tommy said.

Eddie grabbed his shoulder. “Wait. No. Just…let’s hang out. You can come over or I can come over. We could sparr or get a drink. We’re still friends, Tommy. I’m serious.”

“Okay.”

Eddie called him that night and Tommy couldn’t say no to having Eddie come over to his place. They didn’t talk about Evan the whole time, not until Eddie was getting ready to leave.

“I want to say something because I’m your friend and Buck’s friend. What you did was really stupid and I never thought you were stupid. If this was the way you always saw it going, why did you waste his time? Why did you let him fall for you? And I know you hurt yourself too, Tommy, I can see it all over you. So why? Just…answer that.”

Eddie didn’t even let him reply before he left.

Why did Tommy do that? Because even a minute of knowing Evan was worth it. Ending it early was just…he’d expected it to help because he had control and he was making the call and then he wouldn’t be devastated. It was a little late for it, apparently, at least on his end.

“He’s exploring,” he said out loud. Eddie’s words.

What had Tommy expected. God, he really was an idiot.

A week later he was at a call that the 118 was present for as well. He tried to stay well clear of them, but he couldn’t help but look for Evan. It was like being a moth drawn to light and of course Evan was his light.

He’d overheard Lucy and Melton talking on his first shift after his talk with Eddie and Melton had said everyone had a regret in love, that everyone had someone they let go of or who let them go that always left what ifs. Evan wasn’t a regret, Tommy would never regret him. What he regretted was that Tommy had allowed fear and his own baggage to cloud things and destroy what he and Evan had.

Of course, a part of him did still wonder if he had been right. Every relationship came with risk, and Evan having just realized he was into men as much as women, it wasn’t farfetched to think that one day he might think that he’d settled into something with Tommy far too quickly without really knowing for sure it was what he wanted. Evan hadn’t denied that either, he hadn’t tried to stop Tommy leaving. He hadn’t reached out. He hadn’t even asked for any of his things back — granted neither had Tommy.

Tommy had everything that Evan had ever left as his house in the drawer that had been Evan’s. Or hanging on his coat rack. In his bathroom. In his kitchen. He hadn’t had the heart to remove any of it and sometimes when he was really tired or when he’d hit the booze a little hard with Lucy, he could even convince himself that it was there waiting for Evan.

The call rang long, the fire blazing for a while and worse people stuck inside on the higher floors. Tommy was helping on the ground on a hose, he knew the 118 was helping with evacuation along with the 133 and somehow they did manage to get everyone out and they did manage to get the flames put out. Tommy wouldn’t admit it, but he spent most of the call with his heart in his throat hoping that Evan stayed safe and that nothing went wrong.

They were just getting back to the truck when he saw Evan a little soot covered, but smiling. He was talking to a reporter. Red hair, pale skin, skinny and pretty. He kept talking to her even after the camera man brought the camera down.

“That’s Taylor Kelly,” Lucy said and she pushed him to keep moving.

Taylor Kelly the reporter. Taylor Kelly who was Evan’s ex. Taylor who Evan had cheated on with Lucy. When he turned back to look once more they were no longer talking.

“I don’t get why you haven’t reached out to him,” Lucy said.

“He’s a coward,” Melton said.

“It’s been how many months now and you’re not over him. Do you want me to find out if he’s seeing anyone? Maybe you still have a shot. We’ve never seen you like this before and at first it was I guess normal. Now it’s a bit depressing. What happened, Tommy?”

“What happened is Melton is right and I am a coward,” Tommy said and then he climbed into the truck and looked away from them, glad when they didn’t talk to him the whole way back to Harbor.

He heard about Maddie giving birth from Hen. It was a passing comment one night when he went over for dinner and Tommy found himself mourning that he hadn’t been there for Evan through all of it, especially because as Karen told it, Maddie had had a hard labor.

He was shown pictures from Hen’s phone. The baby was tiny and already had a tuft of dark hair. He scrolled through pictures and then there he was. Evan holding the baby in his arms, the baby looking even smaller tucked right into the crook of Evan’s elbow and Evan smiling down with so much awe and love. It hurt to look at him, but Tommy couldn’t stop.

So maybe there had been times when Tommy allowed himself to think about a future where he and Evan stayed together, one where they were married and decided they should be parents too. He’d seen Evan around kids too often, knew Evan would want to be a dad. Tommy had never longed for that or anything, but with Evan he would have wanted it. That was all gone now.

“Oh,” Karen said. “Sorry. I forgot…”

Tommy forced himself to flip to the next picture. Another shot of Evan, this time he was looking up with the bluest glassiest eyes. He missed him. He missed him so damn much and it wasn’t fair how much.

“Tommy,” Karen said. “Hey, are you alright?”

“I miss him,” Tommy said.

“I’m pretty sure he misses you too,” Hen said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Do you have anything stronger?”

Hen didn’t mince words. She told him point blank about how after the break up, Evan had tried to act like he was alright. Then, he’d just started to do anything he could in order to keep busy.

“He started baking,” Hen said. “Then he started doing yoga. He started rock climbing. I think he even took an art class. Anyway, it was hard to watch but I guess it was better than if he sat at home wallowing.”

“Like I did,” Tommy said.

Karen grasped his wrist. “You were both hurting. What happened, Tommy?”

“He asked me to move in and I said no.”

“And you broke up over that?” Hen asked, surprised.

Tommy shook his head. “No. Yes. In what world was this going to last? He only just discovered he likes men and yeah it was going well but it wasn’t forever. If we moved in together, it was going to be so much harder when we broke up.”

“That’s…that’s bullshit, Tommy,” Hen said. “So, you broke his heart and yours so it wouldn’t happen later on.”

“I didn’t break his—”

“You did,” Karen said.

“Well shouldn’t he get a chance to explore what his sexuality means? Shouldn’t he get to figure that out instead of settling for the first guy he dates?”

“And what if he wasn’t settling?”

That kept him up all of that night. He still remembered how the conversation had gone. Evan had brought up the Abby thing and Tommy had felt put on the spot because it was the last thing he expected and then Evan had started to explain about Abby being an important relationship to him and how Tommy was just as important, the most important since, and all at once Tommy’s fears and insecurities had rushed forward because Evan and Abby hadn’t made it and now that Tommy was this gay mentor or whatever of course it wouldn’t last either. He tried to explain that to Hen and Karen and they both looked at him like he was the one that didn’t get it.

“You need to talk to him,” Hen said. “For both your sakes.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Tommy admitted.

Exactly a year after it happened, he saw Evan again.

Tommy had gone out to a gay bar because he couldn’t stay home and wallow. Lucy had also told him that he needed to put himself out there again. That if he wasn’t going to talk to Evan, then he needed to talk to someone that might give him a reason to move on. He really didn’t want to, but at the same time his right hand was getting tired and maybe some release of a carnal nature was what Tommy needed. No one had said it, but they had all kind of implied that Evan had at least gotten out there.

He and Evan had gone to that bar once, gotten a drink and then danced a little before calling it a night and heading back to Evan’s, both of them eager to get up to Evan’s bedroom. He remembered seeing more than a few eyes looking at Evan with interest and how it had made something inside him churn because Tommy had known that if Evan was on the market again he wouldn’t have a hard time finding someone that was interested in him.

Finding himself a free spot at the bar, Tommy ordered a beer and he tried not to think about the first few times that Tommy had gone into a gay bar and how nervous he’d been to actually put himself out there like that.

“Hi, handsome,” a male voice said before Tommy had even gotten his beer.

Tommy turned. “Hello.”

The guy had floppy hair. He was lanky and thin, could probably be called a twink. He was also way too young for Tommy, probably not even in his mid-twenties.

“So,” the twink said, hand reaching to touch Tommy’s chest right where the V of his shirt ended. “Want to have some fun?” He wiggled his eyebrows and licked his lips and his hand climbed to Tommy’s neck.

“Sorry,” Tommy said. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“Boo,” the guy said, hand dropping away, “So why are you here?”

“A drink,” Tommy said decisively because he knew that even if someone age appropriate were to approach him, he wouldn’t have been interested. They weren’t Evan.

“Oh, well. It was worth trying. Though, I don’t usually get turned down twice in one night.”

“What’s your name?” Tommy asked.

“Owen.”

“Well, Owen, it looks to me like there are plenty of fishes in the sea. Third time might be the charm. To be honest, you’re way too young for me and I’m still…I’m hung up on my ex.”

Owen took a look around, but he turned back to Tommy. “Bad break up? Did he break your heart?”

“More like I broke his and mine. Such an idiot.”

“But, hey, you’re still hot. I could help you forget for a few hours.”

Tommy laughed.

Owen grinned. “Not ready for that. Must have been quite the guy.”

“Yeah.”

Owen wandered off and Tommy watched him strike up a conversation with another guy, someone a little closer to his age. They seemed to hit it off and next time he saw them they were out getting lost in the crowd of bodies on the dance floor.

Tommy finished his beer and was about to order another when he heard a familiar voice. Down the bar he found Evan. He was turned away from Tommy looking to one of the tables where a man was waving. Tommy couldn’t watch this. He couldn’t see Evan flirt with someone else. He couldn’t see Evan go home with that guy. He couldn’t look away.

Evan said something to the girl behind the bar and…wait, did he not accept the drink? Then, he saw Evan put some money down right before finishing his beer and moving to leave.

Tommy did the same and he followed.

Evan made it out the door just ahead of him and Tommy had to get around several people, but eventually he made it to the door and then out. Evan was just outside, arms crossed over his chest, waiting.

“Tommy,” he said.

His voice, the sound of his name, Tommy felt it all down to his bones.

“Hi, Evan,” he said and he knew his voice broke on Evan’s name.

“It’s been a year,” Evan said.

The door opened behind Tommy and Tommy had to step out of the way, his eyes never leaving Evan because maybe Evan would disappear.

“I know,” Tommy said.

“It’s felt like longer,” Evan said.

“I know.”

“I miss you,” Evan said.

“I miss you too.”

Evan was quiet for a beat and then, “then, why?”

It was high time he stopped being a coward, high time that he stopped getting in his own way or letting the past intrude on his present.

“Because I’m the biggest idiot,” Tommy said.

Evan snorted. “You’re not wrong.”

The door opened again bringing with it a wave of music. It was Owen, arms linked with the guy he’d been dancing with. He looked between them and laughed, shaking his head as he walked past them.

“Maybe we should take this conversation elsewhere,” Tommy suggested.

Tommy’s house was closer. It felt better than going to Evan’s loft, not that it stopped Tommy from remembering how it had all gone. How he’d let the door close behind him and he’d just thought that it was the right call.

Evan followed him inside.

“You know, it was so dumb of me to ask you to move in when you’re the one that owns his own place,” Evan said. “I was just…overcorrecting. Rushing. Trying to show you how much I wanted us to have a future.”

“And I got scared,” Tommy said and led Evan to the living room. “I was dumb too. I should never have broken up with you but, Evan, the way you were talking about Abby and me, it was like of course I was just here to be your next transformative relationship. The next thing that prepared you for…for whoever came next.”

Transformative. That word had stuck around for him, he realized. The comparison Evan had made about his relationship with Abby to their relationship. He and Evan sat down.

“Tommy, I’m—”

Tommy stood. “I’ll go get us some water.”

He didn’t wait for Evan to respond. As soon as he was out of the room he took a few breaths. What were they doing here? What were either of them hoping to accomplish? Did Evan want to get back together? Was that…was that the right move?

Twelve months. It had been double the amount of time that their relationship had lasted and Tommy ached for Evan. He longed for him. He still hadn’t gotten rid of any of the things that reminded him of Evan or the things that belonged to Evan either. Hell, he hadn’t even let anyone take over or make their own mark.

“Tommy?” Evan called you. “Do you want me to come to the kitchen?”

“I’ll be right back.”

He grabbed and filled glasses.

Evan had started pacing the floor. He looked distraught. Tommy wanted to grab his hands and hug him, instead he set down the water.

“We never talked about our exes,” Tommy said.

Evan’s gaze snapped towards him. “No, I guess we didn’t.”

“Come, sit,” Tommy said and motioned to the couch. “Evan, I think I let my past decide my future and clearly I was wrong and this last year has been miserable. I’ve missed you every day and I thought walking away was the right thing for you, but it was definitely the wrong thing for me and I just—”

He didn’t expect Evan to kiss him, but that’s what Evan did. It didn’t last long and Tommy wanted to pull him right into another kiss because it had been a year since the last time he kissed him — the last time he’d kissed anybody.

“Evan,” he said.

“I learned a year and a half ago that was one way of getting someone’s attention,” Evan said. “I’ve been miserable too. I hated this last year and I missed you and as much as I wanted to hate you I just love you too much.”

Then, they were kissing again and Tommy was pressed back against his couch, Evan practically crawling into his lap. His arms were around Evan again and he really hadn’t thought that he would ever have this again, but Evan was there and he smelled amazing and he felt amazing and their lips slotted together perfectly.

Tommy didn’t even realize he was crying until Evan pulled back and his hands were brushing away his tears and then kissing his cheeks. His nose.

“I love you,” Evan said. “I’m in love with you.”

His heart was soaring and he reached to cup Evan’s cheeks. “Good, because I love you too.”

Evan smiled wide at him, pecked his lips and then just hugged him. Held him. Tommy held him back.

“We’ll have to talk about it,” Tommy said. “I want to explain. I want—”

“Later,” Evan said. “Right now, I just want…I want to bask in this. In us.”

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan #tommy kinard #evan buckley #kinley #911 fic #911 abc

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aemondapologistfrfr · 1 day ago

Text

Anything for You - Pt 5 Final

daemon x daughter!reader

Previous Parts

Summary: Over the years you fill the halls of Dragonstone with children and live content and happy. Something both you and Daemon never would’ve thought possible.

Warnings: 18+ swearing, pregnant!reader, lactation kink, breeding kink, public, oral(f), p in v, time skips, birth

Authors Note: literally just soft, devoted, loving, and caring daddy daemon to finish this series off

Word Count: 6k

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6 moons after Part 4

I’m silently humming in the maesters chambers as he looks over me. Aelon is softly cooing in Daemon's lap and I turn my head to watch them with a smile. The maester pulls my dress back down and looks at me deep in thought. I turn my attention back to him and tilt my head.

“Is there anything different about this pregnancy, princess? Do you feel any different?” I chew on my lip mulling over his words.

“Maybe even more content than the first? We’ve had no issues with lying guards and boats.” I chuckle but my father doesn’t seem to find the jest amusing. “I feel like my bump is bigger than it was when I started my labors with Aelon.” I bring my hand to my stomach and rub my hands over it lovingly.

“I had the same thought.” the maester hums. “I’ve done this many times with many women.” he nods at me and Daemon. “Princess, I believe you’re carrying twins.” a smile spreads across my face at his confirmation. I’ve had the same thought for moons now but I didn’t want to express it aloud.

“Are you positive?” Daemon’s voice is filled with hope.

“As positive as I can be, my Prince.” the maester nods with a smile.

“We are getting more efficient.” Daemon stands with Aelon and comes to my side to brush my hair back. “Twins.” he hums, bringing his hand down to my swollen stomach.

My father helps me up from the bed and Aelon wiggles into my arms. We make our way out of the maesters chambers and my handmaidens pad over to my side and whisk Aelon away for his nap. Daemon slips his fingers into mine and walks me out to the gardens. The soft breeze kisses my skin and I lean into Daemon's side.

“I know you want for them to both be boys, but I hope for one of them to be a girl. Just one. Then I’ll get back to making your army.” I smile up at him and he chuckles.

“We shall see what the Gods grant us.” he presses his lips to my brow and leads me over to a table. He takes a seat across from me and he stares at me with a soft smile. “You look like the Mother made flesh. You’re glowing and so calm and at ease.” he reaches across the table for one of my hands as a blush creeps up my neck.

“It’s thanks to you. You care for me so thoroughly there’s nothing I want or need for.” I hum.

“I’d do anything you ask of me, sweet girl. Nothing would be too much.” he leans back in his chair and looks me over.

“Well since I’m carrying two babes..” I trail off nibbling my lip.

“Yes?” he nods his head, smirking.

“I think I deserve two new necklaces.” I purse my lips and he chuckles.

“Just two necklaces?” he raises his brows. “I was expecting more.” he hums.

“Well I could also use some new gowns. Maybe some new hair pieces.” I look up thinking of more. “Oh, and maybe some new earrings and-“

“Sweet girl.” my eyes snap back to his at his tone.

“Yes, daddy?” I bat my eyelashes and he groans.

“Do not start with that.” he tries to hide his smile.

“With what?” I tilt my head.

“Your little innocent facade.” he gestures to me.

“I don’t know what you mean?” I pout.

“Mm,” he looks me over with a smirk.

“So will you not get me what I asked for?” I push my lower lip out and he chuckles. “If not, it seems as if I married the wrong man.” he is on his feet the moment the words leave my mouth.

“I’m going to have to travel to get you these things you desire.” he tilts my chin up. “It will take me time and it’s not my wish to leave you. Especially in the state you’re in.” his hand rests against my bump.

“So I don’t get any gifts?” I blink up at him with a soft pout and he exhales, shaking his head.

“How about I let you take anything you please from the family vaults?” he tries to compromise.

“I don’t want swords and weapons.” I frown.

“There are gowns and jewels down there too.” I hold up my hand and he chuckles, grabbing it and helping me stand up.

He leads us back into the castle and down a set of stairs I haven't explored yet. He grabs a torch from the wall as he leads down yet another set of stairs going slowly monitoring my every step. Once we reach the bottom he grabs my hand and leads me down the dark hall. The deeper we walk into the vaults the closer I lean into my father. The air starts to cool and I crane my neck as we stand in front of large obsidian doors. He pushes the doors open and leads me inside, shining the torch around.

I gasp walking over to a table and lift the necklace up. I point at the jewels I like and my father nods and adds it into a bag he brought. I continue to pick up pieces of jewelry and hand them to Daemon who accepts piece after piece. When we finally make it to the gowns a frown forms on my face. I trace my fingers over the fabric. I’m sure these were once beautiful gowns worn by Queens but they’re just..

“These are terribly outdated.” my father barks out a laugh. “The fabric is scratchy. They’re not pretty enough for me. I like silk and flowing fabrics. Not this stiff, old..” I scrunch my nose.

“Then I shall have seamstresses and fabrics brought to us.” he kisses my brow. “I’ll send word across the realm for jewelers to bring their best for my sweet girl.” I smile up at him.

“Thank you, daddy.” I reach up to pull his lips down to mine.

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2 moons later

I pout from our bed as my father holds my hand while the maester finishes up the exam. I look down at my massive bump that I know longer have the energy to carry around. Daemon carries me around our chambers and sees to most of my needs waving off my handmaidens. The maester pulls my gown back down and looks up at us with a reassuring smile.

“It is almost time, Princess. Maybe a fortnight now. How are you feeling?” he looks over my scrunched face.

“I want these babes out of me.” I sniffle. “I want to go to the garden. I want to be able to walk on my own.” a tear slips down my face and my father is quick to wipe it away.

“I know this time is much different than the first but you’re still doing great.” the maester nods. “Even in this state you’re still my best patient.” he smiles and escorts himself out of our chambers.

“I can take you down to the gardens, sweet girl.” Daemon hums, brushing my hair back.

“It’s not the same.” I whine. “I don’t feel pretty and graceful like I did the first time.” my lip wobbles as I start to cry again. “These candles smell awful. The snacks they brought me were dry. My breasts are so full I’m sure they’re going to burst any day now.” I gasp as a sob tears through me. “I just- I just,” I start to cry harder and he slips into bed with me.

“Tell daddy what you need.” he holds me closer, wiping away my tears.

“I need you.” my voice small as I pull him closer.

“I’m right here.” he reassures. “I’m going to go blow out the candles. Then I’m going to tell the guard to tell them to start preparing our dinner. Then I will be back in bed with you.” I nod watching him go about his tasks.

I watch him walk around our chambers as the tears continue to pour down my face. I pull the blankets up to me and cling to them. He blows out the last of the candles and throws them out into the hall with hushed words to the guards. He shuts the door behind him and walks back over to me. He slowly pulls the blankets from me and I frown up at him.

“I’m sorry I haven’t worshiped you enough, sweet girl.” He starts to lift off my dress and I let my eyes flutter shut at the relief of being free of the fabric no matter how soft.

He lifts one of my legs and presses his lips against my ankle and makes his way up my leg before starting over on my other. He showers my bump with attention and soft words as I look down at him with glassy eyes. He grabs my hand and kisses each fingertip and my palm before offering the same treatment to my wrists and the rest of my arm. He repeats this process again on my other arm and looks down at me with such devotion it causes my heart to ache.

“Can daddy help you with these?” his hands softly engulf my breasts pulling a whimper from me.

“Please daddy, please,” I beg nodding my head.

He dips his head down and slowly laps at one of my nipples. My fingers bury themselves in his hair, softly stroking and tugging as he starts to suck more intensely. I feel the familiar feeling of relief as my milk is slowly being released. His hands wrap on either side of my waist as he continues to lick and nibble. He presses his lips across my chest to my other nipple and I sigh holding him closer as my relief washes through me.

“Thank you,” I sniffle and he opens his eyes and looks up at me as he continues to lick against me.

He stays attached to my chest silently alternating between my breasts. I sink back into the pillows as presses his lips slowly up to my neck. He kisses and sucks across my throat before kissing up my jaw. His lips fall against mine and I sigh into him as he allows me to kiss him for as long as I please.

“I can see why Aelon drinks so much.” he mumbles against my lips. A smile forms on my face as I let out a small giggle. “There’s your smile.” he nuzzles into my neck, holding me tightly.

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twins birth

I groan, rubbing my eyes awake before blinking around our dark chambers. My hand grabs my bump as a wave of pressure washes through me. I slowly shake my father awake and he’s sitting up in bed looking over me.

“What’s wrong, sweet girl?” he brushes my hair back.

“The babes are coming. Go get the maesters.” he jumps up and tells the guard to wake the maesters and midwives.

Daemon rushes around our chambers quickly lighting candles and throwing more wood into our hearth. There’s a quick succession of knocks and the maester and the midwives pour into our chambers with more candles. My father grabs towels for the bed and goes over to the wardrobe to grab the two blankets I picked out for our babes. I watch as he rustles around the bottom of our wardrobe and pulls out a box.

“What’s that?” I scrunch my brows looking at him.

“I had an after birth dress made for you. The finest silk, in your favorite color.” I look up to him with glossy eyes.

“I love you.” I look up to him and he cups my cheeks and presses a kiss to my lips.

“I love you.” he hums and stands back.

The maester comes to the bed and begins his checks. The midwives come to my side and help soothe me. My father curls into the bed next to me and I grab his hand. The pressure and the waves of pain become closer together and a low groan comes from my mouth.

“It’s time.” I nod and in moments I’m swarmed with hands and bodies.

My first push steals the breath from me but the following pushes send adrenaline through me. My father smooths my hair as I softly curse before there’s a slight release of pressure. I hear the soft cry and I go to reach for my babe but the pressure starts once more. Some tears trickle down my cheeks and my father wipes them away and whispers words of praise as I start pushing once more. My body now used to the pain and the pressure starts pushing once more. It takes less effort than my first babe and with a cry from me my second babe comes out and lets out a loud cry.

The midwives flock around me and wipe my face and fan me off while my father is ushered down to cut the cords. He wraps the babes in the blankets and brings them over to me. Tears pour down my face as I look at our fresh babes. I look up to him and see that he’s also shedding a couple tears.

“You did so good, sweet girl.” he rests one of the babes in my arms and lays down next to me with the other. “I’m sorry that you didn’t get your girl.” his voice soft.

“Two more little boys.” I chuckle slowly trailing my finger across their brows.

The midwives whirl around our chambers cleaning up and we hand the babes off to them to be cleaned and checked over more thoroughly. My father helps me up and my grip on his arm has my knuckles going white. I nod at him to keep going and he helps me change into the new dress.

“Princess, I wish you would rest.” the maester clicks his tongue.

“I will.” I glare at him as I slowly walk back to the bed with fresh towels.

Daemon helps me lay back and presses his lips against my brows again. He gets into the bed next to me once more and the midwives bring our babes back over to us. I adjust the top of my dress and bring the babes to my chest. My father helps hold one of the babes as they latch onto me. The midwives and master filter out of the room switching places with my awaiting handmaidens.

“Is there anything we can bring you, Princess?” they ask, looking at my babes with love.

I ask for a couple drinks and snacks and they’re back in moments before leaving me and Daemon to bond with our new babes. There’s a quick knock and my father tells them to enter with annoyance. My handmaiden brings in Aelon and he wiggles out of her arms and reaches for us. Daemon nestles the babe in my arms and gets up and brings Aelon over to us.

“My family.” Daemon smiles crawling back into bed with Aelon.

“What shall we name these two?” I hum looking to the babe on my right who has unlatched and fallen asleep.

“I’d like to name this one Maelor.” he hums, brushing the babes hair that is still suckling at me. “You choose his.” he nods at me.

“You shall be my sweet little, Aemon.” I coo, pressing my lips to the sleeping babe in my arms.

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2 years later - Aelon’s second name day

I smooth my gown and admire myself in the mirror. I watch as my handmaiden places my necklaces and cuffs while another offers me different earrings. I smile when I hear my father walking through the doors. He comes to stand behind me and looks over my form. He wraps his hands around my waist and my handmaidens quietly excuse themselves from our chambers. His hands start to travel up to my breasts and I bat them away turning to him with pursed lips.

“Later. Aelons name day celebrations are to begin soon.” I grab his arm and start to tug him out of our chambers.

A smile blooms across my features as I take in the decorations in the great hall. Streamers and flowers are spread across almost every surface and the hearths are lit causing a warmth to spread throughout the hall. I hear Aelon giggling and I turn seeing him running to me followed by two more carrying my other boys.

“Oh look at all of my little boys.” I coo peppering them with kisses. “How have they been?” I look over the ladies and they smile saying they’ve been perfect little princes.

Daemon starts to lead me to the dais and the ladies follow behind and take seats at a small table behind us and fuss over the twins. Aelon sits in my lap and grabs for Daemon who offers him his fingers to play with. The doors groan open and the King and his family walk through and make their way to us.

“Let us see this growing Prince.” the King smiles and I bring Aelon down to him. “As handsome as I remember.” his eyes twinkle before he makes his way up to the steps.

The hall slowly begins to fill with the visitors from across the realm excited to get a glimpse at the inside of Dragonstone. Soft music begins to echo throughout the hall and servants rush in with food and drinks. Aelon charges wildly between the tables giggling as he passes visiting Lords and Lady’s. I watch with a soft smile as my handmaidens chase after him until he jumps up on the dais underneath the table and looks up at me and Daemon.

“Come here you little beast.” Daemon scoops him up and he tries to wiggle out of his arms.

“No more or you won’t be allowed to have cake.” I whisper to Aelon who pouts and sits in Daemon's lap.

“Imagine once the twins can run around with him.” Daemon chucks and I take a generous sip of wine.

“Then you’ll be running after them.” he smiles at me and pats my thigh.

The rest of the celebrations carry on and everyone comes up to our table to see Aelon. Aelon ends up sneaking off the dais and when I find him he’s at the table near the servants eating cake by the plate. I rise from my chair sighing before making my way over to him. I scoop him up and bring him back to the table with his frosting covered face and I turn to Daemon who is trying to hide his laughter.

The celebration goes long into the night and I was half tempted to feign an illness to retire to our chambers early. My handmaidens have long ago taken the children to bed and all that’s left in the hall is the King and Queen.

“You two have really turned this cold rock into a home.” the King says with wine slurred words.

“Husband.” the Queen hisses.

“No, he’s right enough.” I offer her a soft smile which she sheepishly returns.

“I had figured you would have more children in these halls by now.” the King raises his brows to Daemon.

��We’re working on it.” I chuckle while sipping my wine as Daemon places his hand on my thigh.

We continue to talk and the Queen hushes the King after almost everything that comes out of his mouth. Daemon continues to chuckle and his hand on my thigh squeezes softly. His touch a promise of what’s to come once were sealed behind the doors to our chambers. The King finishes his glass of wine and exhales deeply. The Queen excuses them from the hall leaving us alone.

“Get up on this table.” Daemons words low.

“The servants will be-“

“Waiting outside until we leave to start cleaning.” he raises a brow. “Be a good girl and sit on this table and serve yourself to daddy.” my cheeks flush as I start to push my chair back.

He pulls me in front of him and I look down at him. I lean down and press my lips against his. His kiss is slow and sensual. He slowly pulls back, lifting me up and placing me on the table. He takes his time pulling my skirts up as I look at him with an intense need. I gasp as he quickly pulls my small clothes aside and dips down.

Daemon licks at me with fervor and I catch myself from falling back on the table. My teeth dig into my lip as he swirls around my bud. A small squeak drops from my mouth as he pushes two fingers in. I claw into the wood when his fingers curl and my legs shake. Moans slip past my lips and I give up trying to be quiet and let the obscene sounds pour out. The louder I get the faster his tongue and fingers move.

“Daddy,” I whine, feeling my high approaching. “Please, daddy,” I gasp as my hips start to jerk. My pleasure pours out of me and he groans into me before coming out from beneath my skirts. He looks at my heaving chest with a smirk and stands and helps me off the table.

“Let’s go back to our chambers.” he hums, pulling me out of the hall.

“There’s somewhere else I want to go.” I lick my lips looking up at him. His eyes light up as he nods at me to lead the way. I lead him through the halls and he lets out a soft chuckle as I pull him into the hall that has our house seat and he looks down at me with a smirk. I tug him over to the seat and push on his chest for him to sit. He sits back and spreads his legs looking up at me with an amused smile.

“This is a surprise, sweet girl.” he hums, holding his hands out for mine. I feel more wetness pool between my thighs at the sight of him relaxed and leaning back. His tongue darts across his lower lip as his eyes roam all over me.

“I thought you'd have taken me here by now.” I take small steps to put myself between his legs and he watches my every move.

“How long have you thought about this?” his hands grab at my waist, softly squeezing. He pulls me closer and looks up to me with hungry eyes.

“A while now.” my voice barely a whisper. “I want you buried inside me on our house seat. Make my moans echo throughout the hall. Fill me.” the last words a plea.

A low groan comes from his lips as he removes his hands from my waist and starts to unlace his trousers and I start lifting my skirts. His length bobs up against him and he pulls me onto his lap. My knees find a home on the cold stone on either side of him. He lines himself up and sheaths himself inside me quickly. I start bouncing quickly and his hips start to snap up into me. His fingers dig into my waist and I let my head rest against his shoulder as we chase our highs together.

“You’re so fucking indecent. Begging me to breed this sweet cunt. Ask me nicely and I will.” he grunts as I whimper above him.

“Daddy,” I gasp as he takes control of all of the movements. “Fill me, breed me, please, please,” I gasp and his palm lands against my cheek under my skirts. His fingers dig into my tender flesh and I moan loudly.

“That’s it, good girl.” he chuckles watching as my head falls back. “Squeezing my cock so tightly.” he grunts and my pleasure slams through me with a loud cry of his name. He continues to rut up into me and I whine as I feel him start to fill me. He keeps pushing up causing us both to tremble with extra pleasure.

“Thank you, daddy,” I whimper before capturing his lips once more. He pulls me off of him and we situate our clothes before making our way back to our chambers where we stay tangled together for the rest of the night.

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5 years later - Aelon 7 - Maelor & Aemon 6 - Rhaela 5

I’m smiling at my daughter in the mirror of my vanity as I brush her beautiful silver hair. Everyday I thank the Gods for giving me my precious little girl, Rhaela. She pulls open my drawers and holds up a necklace and looks at me with her round eyes. I grab it from her hands and place it around her neck before I go back to brushing her hair.

“What about this one? Can I wear this one too?” I chuckle, grabbing another necklace from her.

“Of course.” I him clasping it around her neck. I tie the top of her hair back and leave the rest flowing before I offer her my hand.

“Are we going to the gardens?” she grabs my hand and pulls me to the doors.

“We are.” I pull the doors open for us. “We have to check on the flowers you're growing.” she lets go of my hand and starts to sprint down the hall.

“Not too far.” I call after her with a smile. She waits for me at the end of the hall and we begin to descend the steps. Once we step outside the warm air kisses us as a greeting. She tugs me forward again and into her little garden.

“Look,” she coos plucking a flower.

“We should leave them to keep growing.” I hum looking at the flower in her hand.

“I’m sorry.” her smile drops.

“It's okay,” I nod. “We can bring this to go show your brothers.” her smile starts to form again and she nods quickly. She places the flower in her pocket and I stay kneeled on the stone with her as we look at her growing plants. I rise and lead her into the main gardens and lean down to her. “We can pick the flowers in here.” I whisper. “Aelon used to pick them all the time as a babe.” she looks at me with wide eyes.

“Really? Which ones were his favorites?” she looks around. I lead her over to the lily’s and she smiles, bending the stem so she can smell it. “Can I bring him one?” she asks with a sheepish smile.

“I think he’d love that.” I nod and she plucks it from the stem and shoves it in her pocket.

“Can we give it to him now?” I look down at her with a smile as she jumps with excitement.

“You don’t want to go to our bench today?” she shakes her head pulling me out of the gardens. I follow her and she pulls me over to the training area and she peeks around the corner watching them. “Go on. I’m right behind you.” I encourage and she starts to walk across the sands.

“It’s my turn to use fathers sword.” Maelor yells at Aelon.

“You can’t even hold its weight.” Aelon yells back.

“I can too.” Maelor charges at Aelon.

I look at Daemon who says a few hushed words and they’re huffing and apologizing to each other. I look around the beach to find Aemon and see him along the shore collecting small rocks and shells. He is such a tender boy, has no taste for training and weaponry. Daemon invites him nonetheless and on days when he declines I love it when he joins me and Rhaela in the gardens.

“Aelon,” Rhaela shouts running through the sands to him. “Mother said these were your favorite.” she pants, digging through her pocket. I watch as she takes out the crumpled flower and Aelon looks down at it with scrunched brows.

“What do you want me to do with this?” Aelon looks at the lily in her hands and she frowns.

“Aelon,” I scold and he sighs dramatically.

“Thank you, Rhaela.” he picks the flower out of her hand and shoves it in his pocket.

“Mother, look.” Aemon comes running up to me.

“What do you have for me today, hm?” I smile squatting down.

“Just some rocks.” his voice small as he blinks up at me.

“Oh no, these are special rocks.” I coo, taking a couple from his hands. “See this one?” I point to one of them. “This one has been here since the days of Aegon the Conqueror.” his eyes light up.

“Really?” he picks it out of my palm. “It’s that old?” he holds the rock up in the sun and examines it.

“It is.” I hum. “And this one.” I point to the next one. “Has been here long before the moon and stars.” he looks up at me with wonder.

“No.” he looks up at me with pursed lips.

“Yes.” I nod with a smile.

“Father.” Aemon calls Daemon over to us as I softly chuckle.

“What is it?” he lifts Aemon up into his arms.

“Mother says this has been here since before the moon and stars.” he points to the rock I’m holding and I look to Daemon.

“She’s right.” he nods, plucking the stone from my fingers. I watch with a smile as he goes on talking about the stone and Aemon listens to his every word. He offers the stone to Aemon once more and plops him back on the sand. We lean against each other watching our children flock together on the shores of our home.

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2 years later

I hold back my chuckles as our kids run around our chambers. They’ve been fighting about who gets to hold the babe next. I gave birth over half a year ago but their love for him has only grown. The second he opened up his violet eyes I felt my heart grow even more.

“It’s my turn to hold Vaegon.” Aelon pouts standing above Rhaela.

“You’ll upset him you beast.” Rhaela waves him off.

“You’re a beast.” Aelon hisses at her and she sticks her tongue out at him.

“It’s my turn anyways.” Maelor purses his lips.

“No, it's my turn.” Aemon says with a frown.

“Okay okay,” Daemon sighs standing. “The four of you out.” he takes Vaegon into his arms and passes him to the awaiting handmaiden. He shoos our children out with the other handmaidens and turns back to me with a smile. “I forget how quickly our army can take over our chambers.” he chuckles, walking over to me in my chaise.

“That they do.” my face warms with a smile. “I love them so much. I love you so much.” I reach for his hand and he twines our fingers. I tug him down onto the chaise with me and he chuckles against my lips. “Should we have a couple more?” he pulls back and looks at me with a raised brow. “I’m getting old, I’m quickly approaching thirty years, husband.” he barks out a laugh.

“Old.” he shakes his head. “You don’t look a day over twenty.” I roll my eyes playfully at his words.

“We’ve been wed for over ten years now, you needn’t sweet talk me.” he leans down.

“Oh but I like the way you blush and squirm when I do, sweet girl.” he lowers his body to mine. “I’ll never tire of it.” he places his lips on mine softly. “You truly want another babe already?” he searches my eyes.

“I would like to so Vaegon can grow with someone his age.” I nod.

He lifts himself off of me and offers me his hand and begins to lead me over to the bed. His lips press against mine and start to trail up my jaw. The laces to my gown are softly pulled and my dress slips down my body. My slip is lifted over my head at the same leisurely pace and his hands lay me back gently. His soft touches make my skin feel like it’s on fire and I whine when he stands back.

He smirks at me as he starts to pull his clothes off. I reach out for him to return to me and he’s crawling into our bed on top of me. I lean up and bring my lips to his and we let our tongues continue the slow dance our fingers started. His fingers tease down my center pulling a whine from me and he begins to kiss down my neck. His fingers find my bud and swirl against it and my fingers dig into his back.

“I love that you always want to stay swollen with my child. Such a good girl. Always such a good girl for me.” his voice husky as one of his fingers dip down to my pooling wetness and dips it in. He lets out a low chuckle, “Your greedy little cunt is already squeezing my finger.”

“Please,” I gasp softly as he slowly starts to pump his finger while keeping his thumb circling my bud. He pushes another finger into me and the sounds of my wetness grow louder along with my whimpers. He licks across my chest as I feel my stomach start to coil. “Yes, daddy,” I cry out feeling my high slam through me.

He pulls his fingers out and I look down watching him spread my wetness over his length before filling me completely. He slowly pulls out with a smile on his face as I squirm beneath him. When he pushes back in it’s not faster and the feeling of the stretch has my toes curling. He continues with this slow pace as soft whines pour from my lips.

“I’ll never tire of the feel of you, sweet girl.” he presses his forehead against mine. I wrap my arms and legs around him and he starts a slow rhythm. We rock our hips together letting out soft curses and each other's name. My pleasure washes over me with a cry of his name. “I love you, sweet girl.” he rasps as he fills me with his.

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10 years later

I watch with tear filled eyes as my eldest son and my only daughter share their vows. Daemon holds me against his side as he smiles down at me cupping my face. Memories of our wedding flood my mind and I reach up to press my lips against his. We turn our attention back to our children as they look at us with wide smiles.

Over the years I’ve been blessed with seven children. Raising every one of them has been a privilege and Daemon has been devoted to every single one of them. We’ve raised them to be honorable and brave and I’ve been so proud of the accomplishments they’ve achieved.

I never would’ve dreamed that my desire for this all those years ago would actually come to fruition. I never imagined I could ever be so content and at ease. The halls of my home are filled with warmth and love. There’s nothing more I could ever want for.

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masterlist 🔌

um wtf this was supposed to be a one shot and now it’s ending after 6 chaps 🧎🏼‍♀️ thank you so much to everyone who saw the vision and went on this journey with me 🥰 manifesting a daddy daemon for all of us 💞

anything for you tag: @mamawiggers1980

taglist ✍️

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @1-fuzzy-squirrels @arya-brooke @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @moonymoo1 @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @neocockthotology @thereaderwitch @hardkiddonut @faenyra @hiimava11 @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @fiction-fanfic-reader @povofjustme @multilover19 @alexxavicry @cedstars @fuckalrighty @mrsmunson-harrington @misspendragonsworld @nz2004 @ninihrtss

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #hotd daemon #prince daemon targaryen #daemon smut #daemon x reader smut #hotd fanfic #x reader #x reader fic #hotd smut #x reader smut #daemon x you

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romancecroc · 22 hours ago

Text

Lucanis Romance (Pt. 2)

This is an alternative take on finishing his companion quest (confronting Illario after saving Catharina). In this version, the whole "I made paella and your favorite" drink did not happen.

Things have felt different between them. Especially after Spite somehow dragged Rook into Lucanis’s subconscious and helped them align on a goal.

Nothing had really happened before that. Just the occasional lingering glances. Hands brushing against each when nobody could see. Overprotectiveness during battles.

But with all that was going on, it was almost impossible to find quiet moments. To reflect. Or to talk.

And with all her confidence, Rook didn’t dare bring the topic up again. Nor make a move.

But she felt closer to him. Especially after witnessing all his inner troubles, his regrets.

But was that enough? How would you name this? Having feelings for someone, feeling close to them and yet… nothing happening?

What exactly did I want to happen?

The thought caught Rook off guard.

Guilt was starting to build up. They never said they were in a relationship after all. Lucanis didn’t owe her anything.

But at the same time… there was a sense of frustration?

“Rook! Are you listening?” Teia said, waving her hands.

“Ah.” Rook responded, finally snapping out of it.

She was in Trevisio. They were getting ready to save Catharina and set Illario straight.

Teia and Viago were preparing, but Lucanis was nowhere to be seen.

Apparently he would join in later.

“Don’t worry, Lucanis knows the plan. He’ll join you at the mansion. Are you ready to go?” Teia asked again, patting Rook’s shoulder.

“Yes, sorry. We will get Catharina out of the mansion and then we’ll confront Ilario at the gathering.” Rook said, mostly to summarize it for herself.

“What are you going to do with Ilario when all of this is over?”

Teia and Viago chuckled, grabbing their daggers and facing the exit.

“I’m sure our first talon will know what to do.”

And with that, they both vanished.

—

It didn’t take long to sneak through the mansion. The team had initially agreed to only send out Rook and Lucanis - the less attention they attract the better.

But where was he?

Rook noticed one of the hallways having more guards than the others. With a dagger in hand and magic in another, she swiftly took care of them within seconds.

Until she felt a presence behind her.

Instinctively, she elbowed them in the stomach, using the opportunity to turn around and push them against the floor. Her mouth dropped when she was finally hovered above him, her knees digging into his arms, locking him in position.

“Not a bad move, Rook.” Lucanis said, coughing between his words.

“Are you insane? I could have killed you!” Rock angrily whispered, immediately putting her dagger away.

“Please, Rook. I let you tackle me. Why miss out on an opportunity to get overpowered by a beautiful woman? ” he answered, a chuckle between the coughs.

It should have made her happy. The small flirts between them.

But instead, it just reminded her about her own frustrations. The impatient feeling, the guilt.

Without responding, she got up and offered him a hand. Pulling him up.

“Rook?” Lucanis asked, concerned. He had expected a matching response.

“We should focus on the mission.” Rook responded, perhaps a little colder than she intended.

“Where do you think your grandmother is? I already checked the east wing, but no luck so far.”

It felt like he was catching on, but the mission’s urgency kept him from investigating further. Instead he started leading the way, casually sharing childhood memories whenever he saw something familiar.

He hasn’t been home for so long - and yet she couldn’t bring herself to fully enjoy his stories. Once Catharina had been saved and Ilario confronted, Rook would return to the Lighthouse and spend some time alone in her room. Clear her head.

That sounded like a good plan at least.

“She must be here.” Lucanis said, stopping in front of a door not too far from his childhood room.

Rook motioned to get ready, just in case.

Once the door opened, a cane started swinging around aggressively - until Lucanis grabbed it.

“My grandson!” Catharina gasped in disbelief.

Rook stepped away for a bit, not wishing to interrupt their reunion.

“You are mad as us. Why?!” Rook suddenly heard in her head.

Spite??

“Answer! It is…. distracting him!” Spite responded telepathically.

Rook wasn’t sure how Spite was talking to her. Based on how Lucanis was acting, he didn’t seem to be aware of it either.

I’m not mad. I’m just trying to focus.

“Hurt. Longing. Is it loneliness? No. It smells like… disappointment!” Spite continued on.

The last thing Rook wanted was a conversation about her feelings. With Spite. She imagined a mental block around her head - it must have worked because the last thing she heard was a disapproving growl from Spite. And then it was quiet again.

“Thank you, Rook! For returning my grandson.” Catharina said gratefully, looking over to Rook.

“He did half of the work. We should really bring you somewhere safe.” Rook quickly responded, rejoining them.

“Nonsense. Now go and stop Ilario, I won’t be far behind.” Catharina responded, waving her cane around again.

The expression Lucanis made, said enough - there was no way to convince Catharina to change her mind..

—

“You must feel relieved having your grandmother back. Any plans for Ilario?” Rook asked, as they were approaching the gathering.

“I don’t know. But one way or another, he needs to pay.” Lucanis said, approaching the giant door.

One could hear Ilarios' speech from the outside. Monologues about how he was grieving Catharina’s death. How Lucanis was a shame to the family and the crows due to becoming an abomination.

And that he was taking the title of the first talon for himself.

“Whatever happens, I’m with you.” Rook said, preparing herself for battle.

“I know. Let’s finish this.”

And with that, the door was kicked open.

Everything happened so fast.

Ilario didn’t hesitate to attack Lucanis on sight, backed by venatori.

The crows, unsure who to believe, were fumbling around.

But like many other fights, this one was about to end quite fast.

“They will never accept you. You’re an abomination!” Ilarios screamed at Lucanis, almost like a child who wasn’t picked for a group activity. Most of his venatory allies had fallen by now.

“Are you sure you’re not stuck with a demon yourself, Ilario? Even Spite sounds saner than you do right now.” Rook said loudly, currently finishing off remaining venetario on the opposite side of the hall.

Embarrassment was plastered on Ilarios face. The sheer audacity of being compared to a demon. And despite having little backup left, he used whatever remaining blood magic he had to teleport himself past the crows.

“You will pay for this insult!” Illario yelled, appearing in front of Rook with a dagger in hand. Ready to stab her in the chest.

Growing up with the shadow dragons taught her well - especially on how to deal with crazy individuals that were about to stab you. There were different ways to make them stop, even for a few seconds. They just need to believe they won.

So Rook didn’t defend herself. Didn’t use any magic spells.

Instead she positioned herself in a way, so that the dagger would end up between her armpits. Her clothes were already torn at a few places, covered in blood. It would be hard to tell whether she was really hit or not. And a delusional blood mage wouldn’t know the difference either.

To dramatize the moment, Rook let out a terrible cry that melted together with Ilario’s victory laugh.

And multiple people shouting in the background?

Rook couldn’t focus too much on it, as she was busy taking a few steps back. Holding the dagger close, while she fell on her knees. And then to her sides, closing her eyes.

“Let this be a lesson for anybody who insults Ilario-”

The sound of something smashing against the wall echoed across the hall. Followed by a demonic snarl.

“They. touched. Rook! They die!”

That must be Spite.

Oh…

Rook realized that she never discussed her cinematic move with the others. Neve was used to it. She had witnessed it too many times during their missions.

She hated it. But she couldn’t deny how it made enemies feel overconfident. Prone to making mistakes. Better to catch off guard.

But not something to do with unaware participants.

When Rook carefully opened her eyes, another body flew against a wall. Ilario was still standing next to her, looking in another direction. His entire body tensed up in shock. Apparently Lucanis/Spite had been brutally throwing any Venatory standing in their way against the stone walls.

“Cousin, you need to calm down. They are already dead!” Teia yelled at Lucanis, but Viago held her back.

The final stand was Lucanis/Spite finally reaching Ilario, grabbing him by the throat and hurling him across the hall. The impact was strong enough to make Ilario break a few pieces of furniture in the process.

“Not. Enough. He needs to… suffer!” Lucanis and Spite shouted, as if they’d merged.

He quickly kneeled next to Rook and despite his pupils not being visible, his narrowed eyebrows showed enough concern.

“I’m fine.” Rook whispered, already feeling bad for the entire thing.

“No! He hurt you. He hurt us!” Lucanis/Spite responded back, hissing.

He was going to kill them all. If he hadn’t done so already.

“I think you already punished them well enough. Here, look.” Rook said, grabbing the dagger and pulling it out.

“See? No blood. Your cousin just has a terrible aim. He thought he won and that made him arrogant, distancing himself from his allies.” Rook explained, though she wasn’t sure how much lucanis/spite caught in their frenzied state.

“No… blood.” Lucanis/Spite whispered back.

During all this, Viago and Teia used the moment to tie Ilario down. All the other venatori were dead due to… impactful wall slammings.

“You’re disgraceful, all of you. It’s not enough he’s an abomination, but he also kneels?! How the crows have fallen!” Ilario continued to shout, but his defeat was imminent.

Rook slowly lifted herself off the ground, kneeling next to him.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you about this little… stunt I use from time to time. Neve hates it too. I won’t do it again and-”

Lucanis pulled Rook against him, wrapped his arms around her as the purple glow in his eyes started fading away. Burying his face against her neck.

“Never again.” he growled.

Rook squeezed his arm as a confirmation. The embrace ended with him taking her hand and raising Rook back to her feet with him.

All the yelling subsided when Catharina finally entered the halls. Even Ilario finally closed his mouth.

Rook didn’t dare speak. As the situation calmed down, Teia and Viago complimented her on the dramatic stunt. Thanked her for all the help she’s given.

Rook politely nodded. She could feel Lucanis staring at her. Avoiding any instances of aggravating him further would be wise.

That, until Catharina announced him as the first talon. At this point, he was swarmed by crows. People who wanted to start building connections. Others who just wanted to share a celebratory drink.

Getting through the crowd would be impossible.

“I’m going home. Could you tell Lucanis when you catch him? I think I have worried him enough for one day.” Rook said to Viago.

He nodded and then sheepishly smiled at Rook.

“What? What is it?” Rook asked, confused.

“Take care of my cousin, Rook. Enjoy your night.” he responded, slapping her shoulder in a friendly manner.

Rook shrugged and started heading towards the Eluvian. She looked back once more and managed to make eye contact with Lucanis. With hand motions, she quickly pointed towards the Eluvian and then waved goodbye. Before he could respond, Lucanis was swarmed by another wave of crows.

—

When Rook made it to her room, she wanted to throw herself onto the bed. What a day it was.

But these clothes had to go.

She quickly slipped out of the blood soaked fabric that was already torn in a few places. Doesn’t look like it can be repaired.

She left it on the floor and moved to the baths. It was so late at night, she doubted anybody was going to notice.

After a good cleanup, a few bruises became visible. Nothing fatal. But some were going to stick around for a while. Especially the deep purple ones.

Too lazy to dress up, Rook grabbed a robe and headed back to her bedroom. But she was hungry. There was no time to eat during the ordeal. Maybe the kitchen had something? Even just a snack.

She quietly snuck her way into the kitchen. Perhaps she could gather a few cookies and eat them in bed! Nobody would notice. It would be her little secret. It was also doubtful that Lucanis would already be back from his celebration.

“Rook.”

She froze. Her hand was so close to grabbing a cookie.

“Oh! You’re back already?” she responded, turning around. Caught in the act.

Lucanis was sitting on the couch. A cup in his hand, presumingly coffee.

“Yes.” he responded.

“I was actually going to come visit you in your room. After I had finished my drink.” he added.

“Visit me so late at night? Whatever for?” Rook responded as a joke.

But he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead Lucanis took another sip of his coffee.

“You’re wearing a robe.”

Suddenly Rook started feeling very shy.

“Ah, yes. I was covered in blood and wanted to check for bruises. Nothing bad, luckily.”

There was tension. And she wasn’t sure in which direction it was going to go.

The sound of her heartbeat made it difficult to focus.

“I… should go. Get out of this bathrobe.” she added and slowly took a step back.

“A good idea.” he said, taking the last sip. And then placing the cup back on the table.

“You can then show me the bruises.”

It took a moment for her to register what he said.

That, until he stood up and started walking towards her. Rook took another step backwards, only to find herself clashing against the kitchen table behind her.

It was too late now. Any means of escape were blocked. Lucanis stood in front of her, resting his hands on both sides - pinning Rock against the table.

“I thought you were dead.” he finally said.

Lucanis didn’t shy away from eye contact. Rook looked down instead, ashamed. At least until he gently lifted her chin.

“I was going to kill them all.”

His hand slowly moved to her cheek, caressing it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.” she whispered back.

“You didn’t think I would react?” Help me understand, Rook.”

“No! It’s just… I didn’t think you would react like that. I didn’t expect it. I wasn’t sure where I stood with you, so I decided to focus on the mission and do my thing.”

“And has today cleared your doubts?” he asked, his thumb brushing against her lips.

She didn’t respond. And somehow she already felt breathless.

“Mierda.”

His lips clashed against hers. It didn’t take long for Rook’s to wrap her arms around his neck. Her hands grabbing onto him. Lucanis lifting Rook and placing her on the kitchen table, keeping her close.

It felt needy. Urgent. Especially when his tongue was starting to dance with hers, moaning into her mouth.

He grabbed onto her waist, pressing himself against her. From all the movement, Rook’s bathrobe was starting to slip and any exposed shoulders were bitten, licked or kissed.

What they didn’t realize was all the noise. Every moment caused a plate to fall. Cutlery clashing against other metallic objects.

They finally froze when somebody yelled “What is going on down there?!”

After that, silence. Followed by quiet chuckles between them.

“I know it’s not honorable, but we could pin it on Manfred.” Rook suggested, fixing her robe.

“Hmm… No, I’ll tell them the truth.” Lucanis smirked, kissing Rook on the forehead and giving her space again.

“And what is that? Sorry, I was fooling around in the kitchen?” Rook asked.

“Fooling around is a temporary notion. I intend to keep you for a long time.”

Lucanis smirked again, witnessing Rook blushing.

“Now go rest. I’m still planning on inspecting your bruises sometime soon.”

Before Rook could respond, Lucanis had returned to his room.

Falling asleep would be difficult after such a promise.

#lucanis #lucanis x rook #da4 lucanis #dragon age lucanis #lucanis dellamorte #lucanis romance #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age rook

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harringroveobsessed · 2 days ago

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Prompt - Moon for @harringrovemicroficandart.

Billy had been here for hours now just watching as the blue faded fast giving way to vibrant oranges and dusky pinks until the only light illuminating the quarry came from the full moon. He stubbed out yet another cigarette as he lay back against the hood of the car allowing his mind to wander, nights like these always brought back memories of his mom. Billy snorted softly to himself pondering how even now he could recite every phase of the moon she ever taught him.

Billy always knew Maria Hargrove was different than the other kids Mom’s even from a young age. While his classmates would share weekend tales of being allowed to stay up past 10pm to watch movies, Billy spent his weekends holding hands with his Mom, rings on each of her fingers combing the streets by moonlight looking for treasures.

Treasures, Billy learned could be anything from a shard of beach glass in a pretty shade of turquoise, a delicate stemmed flower just waiting to be pressed and preserved or dainty little seashells that glimmered cheerfully when they catch the light.

Looking for treasures became such an important part of the time he spent with his Mom that even now, despite the ever present pang in his heart Billy finds himself scanning the floor of the quarry, absentmindedly looking for anything his Mom would declare special enough to keep with the small collection in his glovebox.

Maria Hargrove fancied herself something of a moon child, an astronomer tracking the cycles of the moon each month and teaching him constellations before he could even tell the time. She taught him how the moon turns the tides, how each moon phase lasts only around a week orbiting around the sun before moving and bringing with it a new meaning each time.

He can’t help the small hitch in his breath as he remembers standing in this exact spot almost two weeks earlier gazing up at the First Quarter Moon; the memory of his Mom’s melodic voice ghosting in his ear. “This phase is time for manifestation Bee, it gives you time to reassess, make adjustments in your life, remove what is in your way and move forward with determination”

He supposes she did just that back then; she made adjustments and moved forward without him.

It’s quiet up here at night, not many people bother with the drive once the temperature starts to drop but Billy likes the peace, the quiet crashing of the water below him and only the moon to cast her critical eye over him – he’d prefer the cosmos itself rather than his Dad. He’s sighs heavily about to crawl into his backseat and call it a night when he hears a car climbing up the hill; the sound of the approach he knows particularly well. Unlike the sound of his Dad’s truck, which growing up he came to memorise in order to expect oncoming pain, the tires currently crunching across the gravel ground bring him something else entirely.

“Drove by your house, you weren’t answering your walkie” Steve murmured over the sound of his door slipping closed, the sound of gravel crunching again as he moved towards the Camaro.

“Neil found it” Billy said, shoulders hunching self consciously “wanted to know why I had a stupid kids toy, had to pretend it was Max’s. She’s probably turned it off to be safe. Sorry.”

Billy didn’t even have to turn his head to feel big Bambi eyes full of worry burning a hole into the side of his face.

“Billy, are you hurt? Why didn’t you come to me, you know you can always come to me. I want you to come to me.” Steve said sounding almost pained.

Billy didn’t respond, feeling guilty yet not even sure what the hell for and continued to stare resolutely up at the full moon.

When Billy let the moment drag on without a response Steve huffed loudly pushing himself off the hood and bullied his way in between Billy’s legs. Leaning forward to place both of his hands softly on Billy’s knees, Steve ducked his head trying to catch Billy’s eyes with a concerned expression.

“What are you doing out here Blue?” Steve whispered. Billy took a breath and let it out slowly as he inclined his head to give Steve the eye contact he was striving for.

“’s a full moon is all pretty boy, I’m not hiding from you or anything I-I just… it’s nice out. Stars are out you know, reminds me of home and my Mom I guess”

Steve smiled softly and finally tore his eyes away from Billy’s and set his gaze up to the sky. Billy watched on intently as the reflection of the full moon shone bright in Steve’s hazel eyes; like the world itself knew that seeing the moon through Steve Harrington’s eyes was the only way to view it.

Billy felt his heart clench as he bit his lip and tipped forward to rest his forehead on his boyfriend’s chest.

Steve knew about his Mom and her draw to the cosmos, had pulled it out of Billy with weed and kisses when he found him up here the last time. Billy had expected him to scoff or laugh like the kids did when he was younger, but Steve surprised him, kissed him on the forehead, took his hand and asked Billy to show him the constellations.

Billy really should have learned by now to stop being surprised by Steve Harrington, half of the collection lovingly stored in his glovebox came from Steve. Pretty stones he found that shimmered in the sun, a blue gem Steve found he said reminded him of Billy’s eyes, a red rose from their first date.

Steve draws away for only a minute and returns with a blanket holding out his hand to Billy, they huddle together on the frozen ground of the quarry as Steve kisses his forehead just like last time.

“Tell me about the full moon Blue”

I'm sorry the word count got a way from me a little but this is the first thing I've written in YEARS and I hope someone enjoys it even a little. Apologies for any grammar mistakes, high school was a long time ago.

For @intothedysphoria and @dragonflylady77 who both have encouraged me once upon a time to pick up writing again!

#harringrove #harringrove ficlet #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #hmaNovember #harringrovemicroficandart #harringrove prompt #harringrove fic

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that-one-ostrich-friend · 2 days ago

Text

Late Night Chat

sirius black x reader - late night chat

word count: 1k

summary: just a little blurb about a late night chat after exam week with non other than the sirius black

warnings: none :)

a/n: why is ben barnes so fineeeeee

The night was still, save for the soft rustling of leaves from the trees surrounding the edge of the Black Lake. Hogwarts, nestled under a blanket of starlit skies, seemed peaceful for once—no looming threats, no hidden dangers, just the quiet hum of life that came after a long day of classes and before the chaos of whatever trouble the Marauders would surely cause next.

Tonight, there was a different energy in the air. One that made y/n’s heart race in a way that didn’t quite feel like anxiety—more like anticipation.

She sat by the edge of the lake, feet dangling just above the water, trying to lose herself in the moonlit ripples. She’d been coming here more often lately, especially after a particularly grueling week of exams, hoping the silence would calm her mind.

Sirius Black had been hovering around more often than usual, appearing when she least expected him. At first, it was always with the Marauders—James, Remus, and Peter—but slowly, over the past few weeks, he'd started showing up when the others weren’t around. And lately, he’d been staying longer.

Y/n weren’t sure how to feel about it. Sirius Black had always been the charming, reckless prankster. He was the kind of person who could turn heads with a smile, or cause an uproar with a laugh. He was magnetic in a way that made it impossible to ignore him. And yet, when it was just the two of them, he seemed different—more focused, more... genuine.

Tonight, she sat there, eyes on the dark waters of the lake, hoping her heartbeat wasn’t as loud as it felt. She’d promised yourself she wouldn’t let your mind wander. She wouldn’t think about how his voice sounded just a little more tender when he asked if she was okay. Or how his grin made her forget everything else when he leaned a little too close.

But then, she heard it.

The snap of a twig behind her.

Before she could turn, a voice, as familiar as the sound of her own breath, called her name softly.

"Y/n," Sirius's voice was warm and inviting, and she could feel the smile in his words, even without turning around. "You know, you’ve been here a lot lately."

She smiled to herself. It was a little ridiculous how easily he made her feel seen, even when she didn't want to be. "You know, you’ve been lurking around me a lot lately,” she mocked, “ It’s almost like you’re stalking me."

He laughed, the sound echoing across the empty grounds, and she turned to see him leaning casually against a nearby tree, hands in the pockets of his robes. His dark eyes twinkled in the moonlight, his hair messy and windswept.

"You make it sound like a bad thing," Sirius said, pushing off from the tree and walking over to where she sat. "I’m just... looking out for you. Someone’s got to keep you from brooding out here all alone."

She scoffed lightly but didn’t move to argue. "I don’t brood," she said, though she was well aware of the frown that had crossed her face when she’d first arrived at the lake.

Sirius sat down next to her, his thigh brushing her as he gazed out at the water. There was a brief, comfortable silence, but it wasn’t awkward—not with Sirius. Not anymore.

"You’ve been a bit quiet lately," he said, his voice quieter now, softer. "Everything okay?"

She blinked, surprised by how perceptive he was. Sirius was known for being reckless, impulsive, sometimes a little too much of a show-off—but he wasn’t wrong. She had been quieter than usual. There were things on her mind, things she hadn’t quite figured out how to say, or maybe things she was afraid to.

"I’m fine," she replied, her tone casual. "Just... thinking."

"About what?" Sirius pressed, nudging her shoulder with his.

She glanced at him, meeting his gaze for a moment. There was no judgment in his eyes—just that unwavering sense of understanding, like he knew more than he let on, but wasn’t about to push her to tell him.

"I don’t know," she admitted, her voice almost a whisper. "Everything feels so... complicated sometimes. People, life... it just feels like things are changing too quickly, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for it."

Sirius turned his body slightly toward her, his expression softening. "Change sucks," he agreed, his voice low and serious. "It feels like you’re just barely hanging on, but you don’t have any control over it."

She nodded, grateful that he seemed to understand. She had always appreciated his candor—he was blunt when he needed to be, but it was never in a way that made you feel small or dismissed.

"You know," he said after a long pause, "you don’t have to go through all of it alone."

She turned to face him more fully, slightly startled by the sincerity in his voice. Sirius wasn’t known for his deep conversations, much less his vulnerability. She had seen glimpses of it—small cracks in the façade he built for everyone—but this... this felt different. This felt real.

Before she could say anything, Sirius continued. "If you need someone to talk to—or even if you just need someone to sit here with you—I’m always here." His voice was steady, unwavering, and she couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes stayed locked on hers.

There was an unspoken understanding between them now, something that neither of them needed to name. She didn’t need to tell him her fears, her insecurities—he was offering a quiet reassurance without pressure. And it was enough.

She smiled, a little more genuinely than before, as she leaned her shoulder against his. "I think I’d like that."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. They just sat there, watching the ripples in the lake, letting the night air fill their lungs. It was peaceful, but it wasn’t empty. Not anymore.

#sirius black #mauraders #maraudersera #the mauraders #sirius black x you #sirius black x reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader #sirius x you #sirius x y/n #harry potter #hogwarts #ben barnes

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half-dead-ham · 1 day ago

Text

Tim Drake's I.E.F chapter 2

[Previous chap][Ao3 chap][Masterlist][next chap]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Going in alone wasn't his best idea, but maybe he wasn't alone?

The last month has been weird for Tim.

His days have been mostly normal, conference meetings and emails for WE, school, and family drama were all as okay as usual. His nightlife, however, was driving him crazy, for multiple reasons. Well, mainly just two reasons.

The first reason was the big case he was working on. Department store robberies and break & enters focusing on electronics have been popping up throughout Old Gotham and the City Hall District. Reports say the goods just vanish from sight, only to reappear on the black market. The fact that security cameras and motion sensors in the stores can't detect the perps means that Tim is either working with advanced camouflaging tech, or a meta. He hopes it isn't a meta… Either way he can't find them and it's giving him a massive headache.

The second reason is the thing that's been following him almost since the beginning of the case. It started with one of the robberies, either the third or fourth. Tim had gotten a call from the GCPD about a theft at an older repair shop with the same M.O. as a few of the previous thefts they've gotten over the week, and the officers wanted help looking for evidence. He showed up and they took him behind the counter to show him the—frankly piss-poor quality—CCTV footage.

It didn't make sense, one minute the parts were there, old stereos and DVD players lining the shelves, and the next poof! They had vanished. It had Tim replaying the tape—literal tape!—over and over to try and see through the pixely mess for anything useful. By the fourth replay he was getting a tension migraine and the officers that had directed him to the tube TV displaying it had moved on to other parts of the shop.

He felt it then. A cold… something bumps the back of his head. Too cold for any living person, short of Mr. Freeze, had any right to be. He whipped around expecting for the officers to be tied up, a gun at his head, something different that he hadn't noticed because he was too focused on the damn tape. But he found nothing. The cops were still looking at the shelves and racks lined with spare parts, the lights of their cars still flashing through the floor to ceiling storefront windows.

Tim was reeling.

He was sure he felt something, he was sure! He could still feel something, a chill creeping down the back of his spine and an extra set of eyes on him he couldn't account for by where the officers were standing. Just to make sure he did a few sweeps of the shop with the different view modes built into the lenses in his domino mask.

He forgot the fact that what had touched him was cold due to lack of sleep and hadn't switched to infrared. If he had he would have seen a person sized cold spot floating above him.

'Lack of sleep must be getting to me more than I thought.' He had to grumble at the voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Dick telling him that coffee wasn't a sleep substitute and he was 'a growing boy that needs his rest!'

He ignored that voice and turned back to the tapes, still feeling the eyes on him.

After that it became a regular thing, the cops would tell him about another robbery, he'd show up, then after a little while he'd get that cold creep up his spine and feel that invisible set of eyes on him. It was honestly driving Tim more crazy than the 'ghost thieves' as the GCPD were calling them. A few times he thought he could see something out of the corner of his eye, a flash of white and black, an extra silhouetted reflection above and behind him in a window or mirror. He knew something was following him.

The eighth time it showed up it wasn't at a crime scene, he was perched on a rooftop near the clock tower, enjoying the view, when he felt those—by now—familiar eyes on him. With a better view to the open space he tried to get a look at the thing following him (this time switching to inflated even!) but as it was already mid fall it was too cold to get a good reading up so high at this time of night.

'Why is it so insistent on following me?' he thought exasperatedly. It wasn't like he was one of the more interesting vigilantes in Gotham. From the way this creature felt (predatory, like a wolf stalking a deer) it would probably have loads more fun stalking Jason, or maybe it'd like Dick more, with his funny quips and fluid movements. Tim was… he was Tim, the smart one, but he wasn't very flashy or enthusiastic about what he does. He was just one of the bats, the replacement, and not a very good one if he got replaced.

A snowflake landed on Tim's nose, startling him out of his depressive spiral. He looked up, wondering how long he had been like that, when two things occurred to him. One, it was late September, it wasn't due to snow for at least two more months, it couldn't be snowing unless one of the colder rouges got out of Arkham and decided to build another weather machine. Two, the thing. It was right next to him. He could feel it watching him. It was… was it worried for Tim? Had it noticed Tim going down a bad train of thought and decided to startle him out of it… with a snowflake?

He discreetly inches his hand over to where he thought the creature was beside him, but only came into contact with the cornice underneath them. Retracting his hand, he let his legs drop out from under him, going from a crouch to a sit and letting the circulation back into his feet. He looked out into Gotham and watched the lights of the cars travel underneath them. It was peaceful, until Oracle called him about a shooting two blocks west of his location.

The being stuck with him until his patrol ended, and by the end of the night he figured even if the thing was creepy and following him, he didn't mind the company.

Then he told Dick about it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tim was riding to his stakeout spot when he felt the presence come up beside him. He no longer thought it was malicious, despite how weird it felt, and he had noticed a few more times of the thing trying to be useful while on patrol; tripping up thugs, redirecting stray bullets away from him, highlighting clues during an investigation (he still doesn't know how it made the weapon actually glow.) It was nice knowing someone had his back that weren't his annoying siblings, who still thought he was making the thing up.

He stopped two blocks down from the electronic store his contacts had told him would be targeted tonight and set off to don't a good vantage point. The bakery across the street wasn't ideal, but it had a good view and a large enough smoke stack that he could easily hide behind if needed, so he went around the back to the fire escape. Two attempts was all it took to get the ladder clanging to the alley pavement, and knowing his family he'd be getting called rusty or a disgrace by at least two of them if they knew he didn't get it on the first try.

The bloom of frost on the back of his neck made him shiver and refocused his thoughts back on the mission. He scaled up to the first landing and resecured the ladder to its upright position, then went the rest of the way two rungs at a time. He hopped up onto the back ledge of the building and strides across to the front, booting up the security bypass coding feature to connect him to the CCTV footage of the store in front of him.

He worked to get all the cams up in a grid then waited, absently noticing the cold presence floating in loose circles around his head. The sounds of Gotham's nightlife has his mind wandering as he went back to the morning he accidentally told Dick about his patrol company.

"Awwwee, Timmy has an imaginary friend!" He'd exclaimed, getting the attention of the rest of the breakfast table.

Stephanie, lovable Stephanie, burst into a guffawing laughter, Duke barely restraining his giggles behind his hand. Damian had just sent him a scowl for interrupting the peace.

"It's not imaginary, Dick, the thing following me is real! It landed a snowflake on my nose last night. It's September! We won't have snow for another two months! Explain how that could have happened Dick." He crossed his arms and sat back in his chair.

"You sure you weren't just imagining it?" He countered with a stupid, stupid smirk.

Tim did not pout, he didn't, especially when the other two burst into another fit of unchecked laughter. Knowing he wouldn't get anywhere with them, he decided to take his death wish coffee back to his room to answer some company emails.

The alarm blaring from the store in front of him brought him back out of his reminiscence, realzing he'd only been half paying attention to the security feed, and that the cold spot was now right over his shoulder.

A silent curse was all he gave before standing up, -the cold floating off a bit- and pressing the button on his comms to an open channel.

"Oracle, it's RR." The comms popped and came to life with a response.

"Red, I'm guessing you couldn't see anything on the CCTV footage?"

He was hoping the better equipped Oracle had noticed something, but with the tone of her voice, that wasn't the case.

"So you didn't see anything either?" He replied with a groan. So much for that lead. Walking a few paces away from the cornice he groaned, "what kind of tech could hide someone from all the cameras in there?"

No reply meant Oracle was just as stumped as he was, and after a pregnant pause he murmured "you think it could be a meta?"

Continuing with the thought would only give him another headache, but he couldn't dismiss the possibility. "That could be why we didn't even see the goods getting moved," he added on.

"That's a worrying possibility, but even metas leave traces. Maybe something will come up during the investigation this time? See what you can find."

"I'll try, but I don't know how much I'll find even if I can see them," was all he could say in reply. It was sad how little he'd been able to get during the last dozen investigations, and he doubts it'll be different for this one.

He was alerting the police while keeping up the conversation with Oracle when he felt something go through him. He couldn't suppress the full body shudder he had to the sensation. It was like someone had poured ice water down his front and caught it with a towel before it could reach his leg, and he did not like that.

He breathed out a wheezy "what the fuck?" Before needing to stumble back on stiff knees.

"RR, are you okay? What happened?" It was so sudden he couldn't shut his comm off. Great, now he needed to explain to Oracle what was happening.

Shakily he sputtered "I-I'm f-f-fine. My patrol buddy just gave me the worst heebie-jeebies e-ever."

"Patrol buddy? Tim, no one's in your vicinity to be on patrol with you, who are you talking about?"

"Oh, are we talking about Timmy's imaginary friend again?" Dick broke in, stupid open channel, stupid slow crime night.

"Imaginary friend? Tim, are you okay, you told us you were getting enough sleep after patrols." The worry in her voice would have been comforting if he couldn't hear Dick's smarmy smirk all the way from Blüdhaven.

"Don't worry O, Timmers' here is just finally getting to be a kid again," Dick explained lightly. Tim wanted to strangle him right now, the concern radiating from Barbara's end was not helping.

"I don't know Dick, this could be something bad, what if he's hallucinating due to lack of sleep? It's happened more than once already."

Tim snapped at that. "The amount of sleep I'm getting is neither of your concerns! Just because I'm getting less than recommended doesn't mean none at all. And no I am not hallucinating! I just felt something go through me and nothing's here! I'm-" He was cut off by Dick saying something about a cold with all the shivering he was doing but he quickly cut that off.

"No I'm not coming down with something Dick!" He shouted into the comm. He was tired of his family making fun of him for being stalked. Sure, the thing stalking him may be friendly, and may help him get out of spiralling thoughts, but it could be a spy! Or an evil alien come to replace him! Or one of their rouges' new secret weapons! And they're laughing about him having an imaginary friend! That was all kinds of degrading he didn't want to have on him.

Before he could get another word out his wrist computer beeped. Stunned and confused to silence, Tim raised his gauntlet to show that, somehow, his tracker was travelling away from him and towards the docks.

He was still on the same roof he was on half an hour ago.

"What?" Was what came out of his mouth, mentally followed by a 'the fuck?' as he watched the little blinking light speed through the grid representing Gotham's street system. Frowning further he stuck his other hand into the front left pouch in his utility belt, the one that normally held the tracker. He felt around in it as though the pouch was deeper than a few fingers, and pulled back his gloved hand with nothing in it. His tracking bug wasn't in his belt. Remembering the full body chill he got moments before, he realized the sensation ended just below his belt.

Where his tracker used to be.

His head shot up, swivelling and searching for something he knows he won't find with his eyes. The cold spot had travelled to the back of the building and was slowly making its way back to him, coming from the sound of screeching tires it wasn't hard to make the connection.

His buddy just put a lead in his lap, and damn if Tim wasn't going to take it.

Interrupting whatever lame spiel Dick was ranting about, Tim cut in.

"Guys, I think I got a lead." He was met with a few seconds of dead air before both Dick and Babs blew up on him.

"What?!- How?!- When did you see them?- Do you need backup?- how did you get sight of them if you were talking to us?-"

Tim cut them off again, he loved his family, but sometimes they could be loud.

"Something took my tracker. I don't know what has it but it's heading to the docks, I'm going to see where it's headed and maybe find some clues about either who took it, or that tech."

Dick spoke up, worry laced in his serious tone, "Tim this is a really good time to point out that this could be a trap. Whatever has your bug was able to take it off you without you noticing, maybe you should get someone to go with?"

The presence seemed to droop at Dick's worrying, if it really just gave him the one thing to bust this case open, he couldn't not go.

"I don't think it's a trap," he replied. "If what I think happened, then that thing that's stalking me might just have given me the lead I need to bust this case open. And yes I know you guys still don't believe me about the thing, but I've seen and felt too many things over the past month not to think something's keeping tabs on me."

While they couldn't see them, the hand gestures gave him some relief for his exasperation. Grumbling the last bit made him feel like he was talking to an older brother though, which, he guessed he was, technically.

"I'll be in Gotham soon for the weekend, radio me if anything, and I mean anything comes up, okay?" Dick's older brother qualities really shine through at times like these, making a spot in Tim's chest warm.

He sent a small reassuring "will do" through the channel before turning his comm off. He needed off that roof to follow the tracker, and even while rushing to his bike he kept glancing at his computer to make sure the bug wouldn't magically go offline.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finding the tracking bug wasn't all that difficult, when it finally stopped in a section of the docks known for shady deals and villain hideouts Tim had to ditch the bike in favour of the stealthier rooftop option. He really didn't want any other criminals noticing him, and even though the bike was quiet, it wasn't that quiet. Corrugated steel wasn't the best surface for freestyle parkour, but when you're part of the bat family you get used to it. The fact that it had rained earlier in the day meant he had to be extra careful with how he landed, if he didn't want to slip up between jumps.

His patrol buddy seemed to be getting more active the further they went into the area, feeling the cold spot circling around his head as though waiting for something to jump out, and Tim had to wonder if that was a good or bad thing. He hoped it was the first option.

Tim had to refocus as they bounded over another rooftop and came up on the warehouse in which his tracer had stopped in. It was lit up like a Christmas tree compared to the surrounding buildings, unnecessary, but a good first clue to what's going on inside.

Three guards, all armed with handguns, were positioned at the main entrances but weren't doing a very good job of being lookouts. Seemed like an amateur group, then, all the better. Amateurs in Gotham were stupid and overconfident, they didn't know how to handle the bats and were often brushed away as easily as Alfred sweeping up dust.

Finding an entry point was easy, after circling the building via adjacent rooftops Tim figured the open window in the rear end of the building, that probably led to an old office space, would be his best bet. He made sure there wasn't anyone in the room, then used his grapple gun to launch himself through the frame in such a way Dick would be proud of. Rolling on his shoulder and coming up in a crouch, he canvassed the room for bugs or weapons (empty as it was.) Finding nothing he crept his way out through the doorway and into the hallway.

The hallway held five more doors, most likely leading to more old offices, but unlike his entry point these frames all had their doors intact. Investigating to make sure the second floor was clear of people would be his first task, but a sound reverberating from the open end of the hallway had him creeping to the grated catwalk above the main part of the warehouse to investigate.

He gasped. 'This is it,' Tim thought as he observed the floor below, 'all of the stolen tech is right here!' Thirty men dressed in black and armed were sorting through gaming consoles, PC towers, camera equipment and other devices on his left. On his right were three vans, one with its back doors swung open, revealing the freshly stolen flatscreen displays they had pilfered from the electronic store only an hour before.

He watched it all, taking note of the stark white belts some of the goons wore and taking photos through his domino lenses. A quiet scuff behind him had Tim instinctively swerving out of the way of a lead pipe aimed for his head. Kicking out and catching his attacker on the shins, the thugs' forward momentum carried him face first into the iron mesh grate keeping them on the second floor. Tim smiled a little at the mental image of the guy going splat, but the humour was short lived as the impact of the fall had loosened the grunts grip of his still outstretched arm on his weapon. Causing the pipe to roll out of his hand, and falling down to the workspace below before Tim had a chance to catch it.

Shit.

The pipe landed with a loud echoing clang! as the whole warehouse went deathly quiet. Tim held his breath, hoping the ghost thieves would just go back to sorting their goods so he could hightail it outta there, but as a shot rang out and a bullet whizzed by his temple, he realized only the second part of that thought would be happening.

'Fuck fuck fuck fuck!' was all he could think as he raced full tilt back to the window that had let him in. Bullets and angry exclamations ringing through the air as he made his escape onto the rooftop across from him. Looking back to the main entrance Tim thought he would be safe for a few moments to catch his breath while they rallied together, until the doors crashed open and a mob of angry men stormed out of the building to give chase.

He needed to leave. Now.

Sprinting over the roof and bounding across the steep to the next overhang, Tim couldn't keep the shouting and gunshots out of his head. He stayed focused, knowing that the urge to get away and staying alive was overriding the freeze response that so badly wanted to lock his joints. Practice and experience were the only thing keeping his brain focused on launching himself and landing even as bullets sped past his form. A searing pain in his bicep bloomed as he came on a downward arc of a leap, followed by a ribbon of pain across his face, but he kept running.

Only when a burst of heat and pain shot through his chest did he finally lose enough focus to slip on a slick section of roofing, legs going out from under him and down the side of the building. His upper torso slammed onto the corrugated steel in a way that had him crying out as the pain raced through him, nearly blacking out. Weakly scrabbling to gain purchase along the sleek metal only made the pain in his arm scream and pulse louder through his head until there was nothing left to grab.

And so he fell.

Static buzzing accompanied the sound of rushing wind as Tim plummeted the thirty feet to the pavement below. He absently wondered where the buzz was coming from, alongside the thoughts of 'Dick's gonna kill me,' 'shit shit shit shit,' and 'Alfred will be crushed that I got crushed, heh.'

Before he could meet the unforgiving pavement rushing up to catch him, something grabbed his uninjured arm by the wrist. He thought he would be jerked to a stop until he felt a cool sensation wash over him, like he'd just chewed on a menthol candy. Then, as if by magic, Tim felt gravity lift off him like shaking off a weighted blanket. The buzzing only got louder as he was gently carried to the ground, legs collapsing on contact.

They were too weak to hold him up.

When he was held by the shoulders and positioned so his back was against the nearest wall, He realized belatedly that it was his patrol buddy.

It had caught him.

It was checking him over.

It was the source of that static buzzing he'd heard before.

Another sensation washed over him, this one of exhaustion, pain, and the feeling that it was safe. That he was protected. That he could close his eyes and everything would be okay when he opened them.

Before the darkness that encroached on his vision overtook him he saw a green light surrounding him, then a figure appeared. He was too exhausted to tell whether the figure was male or female, but he did notice a shock of snow white hair on an otherwise dark clothed body. As the figure stood and turned to meet the angry mob Tim got the last look at who he would later realize to be his patrol companion.

The static buzzing pulsed with the figure as they proceeded to expand. A swirling mass of black cloudy mist with white, glittering flecks rolled towards the other end of the alley like a thundercloud. The haze got too much for Tim to fight and the only thought that entered his addled mind was 'ah, beautiful.'

And then, Tim blacked out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Ao3][Prev][Next]

#danny phantom #dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton #tim drake #dc x dp #ham writes #chapter fic #chapter 2

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cantgetworsethanthistbh · 2 days ago

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stancest prompt :3 teen! stans getting handsy in the locker room after a boxing match

another one im combining together and um anon sorry this took soooo long, im gomma be honest this was my most excited to write but it turned out sm more experimental than i expected. not sure about the end result but i suppose i could always write a second version because i just had too many ideas for this one in particular lmaooo I went with Ford having some secret sadism he is very badly repressing so thats where the freaky style comes in

And uh, another ford pov. ive gotta write one in stans eventually lmao

Ford never liked boxing lessons.

He never liked that the air was rich with sweat and dust barely ventilated through the hotbox of a gym, leaving every kid melting into pools of themselves. He never liked the sounds of rubber gloves meeting skin in vicious smacks. He never liked how their god awful, shitty coach would pit his favorites against the littlest guys of the rack, watching the big kids pummel new and inexperienced in some sick delusion that he was honing their skills but really, he was nothing more than a bully letting other bullies have a sick little power trip. Ford has been on the opposite side of those fists, in and out of the ring. He knows how this works, he knows how it plays out.

If there was one thing to like about boxing lessons, it was how getting called a "freak" im the middle of a match had gotten him a couple unsavory wins (but wins nonetheless) himself through sheer rage. Ford hadn't cared about playing fair then— he doesn't have anything to prove. Not to them.

Stan would usually agree, but this is where another one of their most fundamental differences rises: Stan loves boxing.

Ford doesn't know why, nor can he truly begin to fathom how. Back when they were children, Stan had a bigger target on his back for their instructors to send their seasoned trainees after. He was tempermental, but he didn't have Ford's wit and only ever swung his fists around desperately. He got provoked into losing his focus so easily, one second he's standing, the other he's being pinned on the mat. He was always the stronger twin between them, sure, but what's good with being a strong kid in a room full of stronger kids? Most of all: he was an emotional wreck after losing, which happened really often.

Stan fell hard and cried harder. And he was beaten down for it even more in the ring, and even outside of it. Moses knows their father didn't take Stan 'embarrassing' the family very well.

And Ford knows the way he used to have swab cotton and disinfectant onto his brother's swelling face.

Ford never liked that. Ford hated that.

But Stan didn't. Stan always came back, barely healed and raring for more

And now—

"And the winner— Stanley Pines!"

The name call catches Ford off guard, dragging him back into reality as the crowd around them whoops excitedly. Up in the ring, Stan is pumping his fists in a little victory lap while his opponent slinked off to the opposite corner. Ford scans, his attention on Stan's body, seeing the usual bruises that would litter his sweaty chest and broad shoulders, some landing even on his jaw. Stan rips his gloves off and spits out his mouthguard and that's when Ford sees it.

There's a cut on his top lip, small but red and angry, bleeding into his mouth. Stan's eyes meet Ford's and he grins, not bothered by the injury as soon as he saw his brother, teeth stained red and wet with blood and spit.

For whatever unholy reason, Ford's stomach stirs at the sight of it, an aching need popping but not that Ford knows what that need actually is. The need to take care of Stan again? The need to strangle Stan because even though he clearly doesn't need these classes anymore, he still keeps going? The need to take Stan by the shoulders and—

Then Stan winks at Ford. And that makes Ford's body stiffen, skin burning, making the quiet twist in his gut deepen further.

"And you're going to drop out after this, right?"

They're in the locker room, lucky to have it all to themselves after everyone else has packed up and left after the final fight. Something had come up in shop and their parents hadn't been able to watch Stan's match, but Stan was excited to retell his great victory or whatever it is. That's not Ford's priority, and hell it shouldn't even be Stan's.

"Wha?" Stan asks incredously, to which Stanford immediately muffles with a damp towel pressing against his lip. The bleeding has slowed down enough for Ford to finally focus on after checking the other bruises and inspecting the rest of Stan's body for any more injuries before he showers. There wasn't any more, thank God, but Ford hates having to check in the first place. His brother's casual confusion ate at his nerves now too, as if Ford said something ridiculous, or he just didn't hear Ford right.

Well, Ford has no issue repeating.

"You're going to stop taking boxing classes, right?" Ford say again. Stan's brow furrowed in confusion, which Ford ignores, as he carefully dabs at his lip. "I mean, at this point it's just pointless to keep it up when you've been going for years."

"Pff, as if. I ain't stopping now," Stan replies, and Ford frowns. "Why would I?"

"Stan... you're bleeding. You're hurt."

Stan chuckles. "Yeah? I always am after a match. Earth to Super Genius Poindexter: the point is to hit each other."

"You shouldn't be bleeding this much," Ford says, gesturing to his brother's face, the cut open lip.

"Aw, Sixer, you've seen worse on my face than that, and look at it. Still prettier than yours."

"Ha, ha. Very funny." Ford huffs, annoyed that Stan clearly isn't taking this seriously. Of course Ford has seen worse, has taken care of Stan when it was worse, but it doesn't mean he likes it. It doesn't mean he likes watching Stan get pummeled even if he wins. Doesn't mean he likes that Stan is sore and winded out after a match. Doesn't mean he likes seeing his brother sweaty and exhausted and turning to Ford's hands for care and comfort, malleable into whatever Ford could want.

He doesn't like that. At all.

Stan chuckles. "I got a match next Thursday, I can't stop now!"

Ford pouts, not understanding how that could possibly more important to Stan than his own brother's request. As if he's saying he doesn't believe that stopping his lessons, stopping this, is what Ford would actually want. Which is—

"Besides," Stan interrupts his train of thought, leaning into Ford slightly, palm on the bench they occupied. "You know I ain't mind the pain, whatever it is you're freaking out about. I'm used to it."

"Stan—"

"In fact," Stan continues, using that voice he pulls to mock Ford's use of that very phrase. He grins that bloody, toothed grin again. "I kinda like it."

The twist in Ford's gut tightens once more, and all he can think is fine. Fine.

Taking his free hand to the back of Stan's neck, he crushes his mouth against Stan's, ignoring his twin's pained gasp when the split lip comes in hard contact with Ford's. He doesn't push or pull away, and doesn't protest when Ford doesn't let up, kissing him and sucking on his lips like a man on a mission. The rich, rusty tang of blood lands on his tongue, filling up his mouth and Ford moans against Stan.

Stan barely exhales out of amusement. "I knew you were into freaky stuff like that."

"Shut up."

Smashing their mouths again, Ford drops the towel in his hand to run hands through the sweat drenched hair. Practically crawling onto Stan's lap, his warm, meaty thighs under his ass. God. Ford's been waiting for this. If anything was worth sitting through another one of those matches it was seeing his brother, dripping with sweat and bulging with muscles.

And having him all alone in his hands for 'immediate care'.

And feeling his hips grind against Stan's own underneath him or having Stan's hand around his leaking cock while they finish each other in the confines of the locker room like they have so many times before.

Cupping Stanley's face and craning his neck up, pulling him into a deeper kiss while Stan's hands go under his shirt, calloused hands on Ford's back and belly and squeeze. Ford makes a sound at the back of his throat, making him ache for some kind of retaliation. Instead of allowing Stan's prodding tongue access, Ford pulls back, taking Stan's bottom lip in his teeth and biting down. Hard. Stan jolts underneath him.

"Ow. Fuck, Ford."

"Oh, I though you liked that?" Ford sarcastically quips, not waiting to hear the "yeah, yeah, keep going" to continue kissing and abusing Stan's already injured lips. Blood is in his mouth again from the earlier cut, and damn it it tastes good and it feels good. It's raw. Violent.

For a second Ford almost felt the appeal of the sport itself. The primal and animalistic need to hurt someone asking for it presents itself in Ford in hearing the pained moans Stan makes the more he roughly grinds his hips and presses fingers into bruises and nip at his lips and pull at his hair. It's cathartic, and it twists sparks in him like a lightning bolt, setting nerves on fire.

And this time Ford caused it to Stan. His dick is straining against his pants, begging for release, with Stan's hand rubbing against him through the fabric. Ford's own were running over his bruised, sweaty skin and sore muscles that he hadn't realized that Stan hadn't even showered yet. But Ford is going to need one too when they're done anyway, so he pulls the band of Stan's shorts enough to release his hard cock. Stan unbuttons his own pants, eyes on their cocks now, licking at his red, abused lips while Ford steadies himself on his shoulder, touching them both into completion.

"Ford..." Stan mutters adoringly and Stanford just loves the way he lets Ford take care of him like this, loves the way he goes weak in Ford's hands. Loves the way he shakes while he comes Ford's hands, and loves the way Stan obeys while Ford drags him to the shower, ready to arrive home late after another good match.

Ford liked that. Ford loved that. And he dislikes boxing lessons a little less everytime.

#stancest #OKAY IN MY DEFENSE FOR THIS #I WAS SLEEPY ALL WEEKEND #ask #my writing #i really like fords pov i really like ford being into blood

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