#very much hope you enjoy the new chapter and oh my goodness if you have the time it would make my absolute MONTH to hear what you think 💜 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

claramelooo · 3 months ago

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YeY, my readers! Another chapter to brighten up your lonely nights.

I'm thinking about posting a chapter every day while I'm on vacation, but don't hunt me down if I'm late with a chapter LOL

Enjoy it! <3

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Warning: +18, NSFW

Paring: Mommy Wanda x Brat Fem reader

Summary: Your relationship with Wanda deepens more and more after the kiss.

Read here: Prologue | Part 1 - Predator | Part 2 - The Prey | Part 3 - On your Knees | Part 4 - The Spider

VELVET CHAINS

The Lamb

Mornings began to take on a new rhythm. Your phone buzzed with punctual messages, always at the same time, as the sunlight painted the sky a soft orange.

Good morning, my darling. I hope you slept well. I'm thinking of you.

You read the message with your heart pounding as if it were the very first time. Each word brought an involuntary smile to your lips, and your response was swift: a shy emoji, a short phrase. Wanda always replied quickly, her tone steady and composed, subtly steering the conversation with a calm confidence that was nearly impossible to disrupt.

The days passed like a carefully choreographed dance. In the library, stolen moments were brief enough to go unnoticed by others yet intense enough to set your body ablaze and your heart racing.

You were arranging books in the history section when you sensed her presence before even seeing her. That familiar, subtle perfume—already uniquely tied to Wanda in your mind—reached you before her voice.

"Need help with that?"

Her tone was casual, but when you turned around, her eyes gleamed with something deeper. Without waiting for your reply, she stepped closer, taking one of the books from your hands. Her fingers brushed against yours, and for a fleeting moment, time seemed to stop.

"Sure," you replied nervously, feeling your face heat under her intense gaze.

She was so close that her body heat seemed to wrap around you like an invisible blanket. As she examined the book she’d taken from you, her head tilted slightly, almost absentmindedly. You couldn't help but notice how every movement she made seemed deliberate, as though even the act of flipping through pages carried an unspoken intent.

"History section, huh?" she commented with a small smile, her fingers lightly grazing the pages. "I've always found it fascinating how some things never change, no matter how much time passes."

You swallowed hard. "Well… I guess some stories are timeless."

"I agree," she said, lifting her gaze to meet yours. "Like us."

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. It was incredible how easily she left you speechless with a simple comment. Before you could recover, Wanda leaned slightly, placing the book back on the shelf. The gesture seemed casual, but her proximity sent your heart into overdrive.

"You know," she said with playful mischief, "there’s a library rule against inappropriate behavior."

"I… didn’t know that," you stammered, trying to ignore the fact that her body was almost touching yours.

"Oh, there is," she confirmed, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she leaned closer. "Something about not kissing anyone between the shelves."

You blinked, startled. "I don’t think that’s in the rules…"

"It should be," she murmured, her voice low and husky, "because it makes me want to break them."

Before you could react, she stepped back with a triumphant smile, holding another book she seemed to have chosen at random. "I’ll take this one," she said, as if the charged tension between you didn’t exist.

Then, just as she was about to walk away completely, Wanda leaned in again, this time whispering near your ear, "That short skirt of yours is driving me crazy."

You froze, heat flooding your body as she walked away, her soft laughter echoing between the shelves. Her words lingered in your mind, your body reacting even before you could fully process them. A shiver ran down your spine, and your skin seemed to burn under the weight of her suggestion.

When you finally managed to turn to look at her, she was already a few steps away, pretending to peruse another book. But the sly smile on her lips gave away her true intentions.

"Wanda…" you called softly, your voice shakier than you intended.

She turned slowly, her eyes alight as though savoring every second of your reaction. "Yes, darling?"

You swallowed hard, searching for something to say, but the words escaped you. All you could think about was the way she looked at you, as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world at that moment.

"You’re teasing me," you finally managed, trying to sound firm, though your voice trembled slightly.

Wanda took a step closer, then another, until she was so near you could feel the heat radiating off her. "Teasing?" she repeated, a smirk tugging at her lips. "You think I’m teasing?"

Your breath hitched as she raised a hand, her fingertips tracing a light line along your arm. The touch was almost imperceptible, yet it felt like fire against your skin.

"Because if I am teasing," she continued, tilting her head, "you wouldn’t be reacting like this."

"I’m not reacting," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, though it betrayed the lie.

Wanda laughed softly, a low sound that reverberated through you, as if she could see right through your fragile facade. Taking another step closer, she closed the already small distance between you until her warmth was nearly suffocating.

"Not reacting?" she questioned, her tone dripping with disbelief as she arched an eyebrow. "Then why are your cheeks burning?"

Your lips parted to respond, but no sound came out. Her proximity, her voice, and the intensity of her gaze left you completely disarmed. When you tried to step back, Wanda moved with you, maintaining the impossibly close distance.

"Y/n," she whispered, her voice low and rough as her fingers traveled up your arm, stopping at the curve of your neck. "Do you really think you can hide this from me?"

Your eyes locked with hers, and the weight of her gaze seemed to pierce straight through you. It was overwhelming, like she could see every thought and emotion you were trying to bury.

"I… I don’t know what you’re talking about," you managed to say, but your voice shook, and Wanda’s eyes gleamed with a mix of satisfaction and desire.

"Don’t you?" she replied, leaning closer, her breath warm against your skin. "Then why are your lips trembling when I’m this close?"

Her fingers trailed along your jawline until she gently tilted your chin, forcing you to meet her gaze.

"Why don’t you tell me what you’re really feeling, hmm?"

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening under the intensity of the moment. "Wanda, I…"

"Come on, sweetheart," she interrupted, her eyes darkening as she tilted her head, her lips hovering mere millimeters from yours. "I’m waiting."

The silence between you was electric, the air so thick it was hard to breathe. And then,almost instinctively, you closed your eyes, surrendering completely to the moment."I… I’m nervous."

Her lips twitched into a predatory smile—a wolf savoring its prey.

Hearing your confession, Wanda finally closed the gap, her lips capturing yours with an almost calculated precision yet brimming with fervor. The kiss demanded a response, coaxing you to cast aside any hesitation or fear.

You clung to her, your hands gripping her arms like lifelines, and Wanda pulled you closer, her fingers tangling in your hair, holding you in a possessive grip.

When she pulled back, her eyes gleamed, and her victorious smile left you breathless.

"That’s all I needed," Wanda murmured, her voice soft as her fingers trailed through your hair. "Just a little honesty."

“Wanda…” you whispered to yourself, finally letting out the breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding. The sound of footsteps in the distance made the two of you step apart. She smiled, that lazy, secretive smile, as she adjusted her hair like nothing had happened. Yet, before you could even try to collect yourself, you heard her voice from the next section:

“Oh, and darling? Bring me a coffee. I like mine strong, no sugar, and hot. Just like you.” She winked at you, teasing.

With your face completely red, you tried to focus on organizing the books, but you knew her smile would be the last thing you’d be able to forget that day.

“I’ll be back later,” she said in a nonchalant tone, leaving you there with trembling legs and a racing heart.

At night, the pattern repeated. As you climbed the stairs to your room after a family dinner, you checked your phone, and there she was again, as if she were everywhere all at once.

I can’t stop thinking about you. I wish you were here with me right now.

And then came the calls, always after your study sessions—long calls filled with comfortable silences, soft laughter, and conversations that seemed simple but always carried an undertone. You felt, somehow, that Wanda was shaping you, pulling you deeper into her world.

Wanda, on the other hand, felt alive again. The world, once so predictable, had gained color once more. Every shy smile of yours, every hesitant response, was like a spark reigniting something she hadn’t realized had gone out.

The control she held over you was like a masterpiece she sculpted with patience and care. But beneath her obsession, there was something deeper: a silent fear that you might slip away.

Still, she never let it show. The next day, the ritual began again, and you, without even realizing it, surrendered more and more to the web Wanda wove around you.

Wanda sat at the dinner table, twirling a wine glass in her hand with a distracted air. Vision moved through the room with calculated steps, his presence always meticulous, always restrained. But tonight, there was something different. The tension in the air was almost tangible.

“You’ve been… distant,” he began, stopping beside the table. His voice was calm but carried a concern that didn’t feel genuine.

“Distant?” Wanda repeated, not lifting her gaze from the glass. A light, almost ironic smile played on her lips. “I’d say busy.”

Vision sighed, pulling out a chair to sit down. He placed his hands on the table, fingers interlaced. “Busy, then? With what, exactly? It doesn’t seem to be with the family.”

His tone was accusatory, but Wanda didn’t flinch. She lifted her gaze, finally meeting his eyes. Hers were calm, cold. “With what I’ve always been: trying to keep everything running. Someone has to do it, since you’re always off on your ‘business trips.’”

“Oh, so that’s it?” Vision asked, leaning slightly forward. “This is about me? About my trips? Wanda, you knew from the beginning that my work was part of who I am.”

“Just as my life is part of who I am,” she countered, her voice gaining a firmness that made him hesitate. “And yet, you expect me to mold myself to your world, to fit into it without question. But maybe I’ve started questioning.”

Vision blinked, confused, trying to grasp what she meant. “Wanda, that’s not fair. We built this together.”

“Built?” She laughed, but there was no humor in her laugh. “Vision, we followed a script. One you wrote, but never bothered to ask if I wanted to act in it.”

The silence between them was deafening until Vision, weary, shook his head. “What do you want, Wanda? What’s the solution to this?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she let her gaze wander around the room. The walls, the furniture, the carefully organized life they had built together. A life that, not long ago, had seemed enough.

But now...

Her thoughts drifted to you. To the warmth of your shy smile, to the way your eyes lit up when she said something that touched you. Thinking of you was like breathing fresh air after years of suffocation.

The weight on Wanda’s shoulders eased instantly. As if all the problems with Vision, all the arguments, were nothing but distant noise.

“I don’t know what I want,” she finally replied, standing from the table and picking up her wine glass. “But I know I won’t find the answer here.”

She left the room without looking back, leaving Vision alone, lost in his thoughts. Climbing the stairs, Wanda felt lighter. The world seemed less oppressive when she thought of you.

[...]

Another Sunday, another sermon. The day dragged on at a pace Wanda found nearly cruel. The pastor spoke enthusiastically about patience as a virtue, though ironically, he seemed to lack any urgency in concluding his message. She sat on the pew with her arms crossed, trying not to sigh audibly.

Her sharp eyes scanned the congregation, searching for anything to distract her restless mind. But there was nothing beyond familiar faces, whispered conversations, and children failing to stay still.

Same as always, she thought, as boredom settled in with a vengeance.

But then, as the sermon finally drew to a close, Wanda caught something intriguing. Two rows ahead, your mother was speaking with Dottie. Their voices were low, almost conspiratorial, but Wanda had a near-supernatural ability to pick up details when she wanted to.

A fragment of conversation snagged her attention.

"I just don’t know if we can trust leaving her alone. She’s so... restless at times," your mother’s soft, worried voice floated over, accompanied by polite smiles exchanged with Dottie.

"Wouldn’t it be a good idea to take her with you?" Dottie suggested, leaning in slightly.

"Oh no, that would ruin the mood of the trip. We need some time for ourselves," your mother replied, sounding embarrassed. "But I also can’t leave Y/n completely unsupervised. She needs someone responsible, someone who understands her... challenges."

Wanda nearly laughed aloud at that. Challenges? It was an almost endearing understatement.

Curiosity piqued, she rose discreetly, adjusting the tight dress that hugged her silhouette perfectly. Her steps were light, almost inaudible, as she approached the two women. Once close enough to be noticed, she smiled politely, her expression more friendly than genuine.

“Hello, ladies! What do you talk about?” Wanda delivered her most dazzling and irresistible smile to the pair.

Both Dottie and your mother turned simultaneously, visibly startled by the sudden interruption. But Wanda knew how to disarm any reaction with her magnetic presence and impeccably practiced smile.

“Wanda! What a surprise to see you wandering over to this side,” your mother responded, clearly grateful for the unexpected distraction. “We were discussing the trip my husband and I are planning.”

“Oh, a trip,” Wanda said, her eyes lighting up with apparent curiosity. “Where to?” She infused her voice with interest that sounded fake to her but seemed to escape your mother’s notice.

“A second honeymoon in Santorini,” your mother replied with a hint of pride, while Dottie murmured something impressed.

“How romantic,” Wanda murmured, tilting her head slightly. “But you seem tense, dear. What’s the matter?”

Your mother sighed, adjusting her pearl necklace in a nervous gesture. “My concern has a name and a rebellious streak, as you know… Young people these days,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes before continuing. “I don’t want to leave Y/n alone, you know how she is... independent, yet still so young.”

Wanda’s brow furrowed, a slight crease of concern appearing on her face. She sat down beside the two women, as if genuinely interested. “Y/n is truly a special young lady. And you’re right; leaving someone so sweet and full of life alone could be risky. There are so many dangers...”

“Exactly!” your mother exclaimed, seemingly comforted by Wanda’s empathy.

“Well,” Wanda continued smoothly, “if you need someone to look after her while you’re away, I’d be happy to help. I already spend a lot of time with her at the library and have developed quite a... fondness for her.”

Dottie narrowed her eyes briefly, but her expression quickly returned to neutral. Your mother, on the other hand, lit up with immediate relief.

“Would you really do that? Oh, Wanda, that would be a godsend. I’ve been so worried.”

“Of course,” Wanda responded, placing a reassuring hand on her mother’s shoulder. “It would be my pleasure. Besides, Y/n and I get along very well. I’m sure she’ll feel comfortable with me.”

“Perfect then,” your mother said, visibly lighter. “I’ll confirm the travel details and let Y/n know tonight. You’re an angel, Wanda.”

Dottie, however, observed in silence, her faint smile not quite reaching her eyes. “You’re very kind, Wanda,” she remarked, her voice carrying something that might have been admiration or suspicion.

Wanda simply smiled, not letting her perfect mask slip. “I enjoy helping where I can.”

As she walked away, Wanda felt a wave of satisfaction swell inside her. The thought of having you under her roof, within the comfort of her home, made something tighten in her chest in a way that was almost painfully sweet.

My little one, she thought, nearly laughing at the irony. They have no idea how much you’re already mine.

The day had finally arrived. The morning seemed brighter than usual, sunlight flooding the living room as your parents finalized preparations for their trip. Your mother was radiant, dressed in an elegant outfit with a smile as bright as the sky outside. Your father, more reserved, was still double-checking the documents and tickets with his usual seriousness.

You were sitting on the couch, hugging a pillow, trying to mask the unease you felt. It wasn’t their trip that bothered you but the idea of spending so much time under Wanda’s watchful eyes.

“Sweetheart, come here,” your mother called, breaking through your thoughts. You got up slowly and walked over to her. She held your hands, squeezing them affectionately. “I know it feels strange to leave you here, but I promise it’ll be quick. And Wanda is wonderful; you’ll be in good hands.”

“Yes, Mom,” you replied, trying to sound more confident than you actually felt.

Your father approached, putting an arm around your shoulders. “Be a good girl and don’t give us any reason to worry, okay?”

Before you could respond, the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house. It was her.

Your mother opened the door with an enthusiasm that seemed slightly forced, though you knew she truly trusted Wanda. And there she was: impeccable as always, dressed in neutral tones but exuding a natural sophistication that was magnetic.

“Wanda! So good to see you,” your mother exclaimed, giving the woman a brief hug.

“Good morning,” Wanda replied with a warm smile, her eyes discreetly flicking to you for a fraction of a second before returning to your parents. “I hope you’re excited about your trip.”

“Oh, very,” your mother said, pulling Wanda inside. “And you’re sure it’s no trouble to take care of her?”

“Not at all,” Wanda said quickly, casting a glance your way that made your stomach tighten. “It’ll be a pleasure. Y/n is a lovely young woman, and we’ve already spent quite some time together at the library. It’ll be wonderful to have more time with her.”

Your mother smiled, satisfied with the answer. After a few more hurried goodbyes, your parents finally left, promising to call as soon as they landed.

The door closed, and suddenly, the house was silent—a silence that seemed to hang heavy in the air. You and Wanda stood still for a moment, her eyes fixed on yours in a way that made your skin tingle.

“So,” she began, breaking the silence, her voice soft but carrying something you couldn’t quite decipher. “Just the two of us now.”

There was a calm certainty in her words, one that made you feel any resistance would be futile. She smiled, picking up your small suitcase and setting it aside.

“Where should we begin?” she asked, her gaze almost predatory as it locked onto you.

Your blood rushed to your cheeks, and you offered her a shy smile. “Hi…” you whispered.

Wanda bit the corner of her lip and strode toward you, her hands finding your waist. “Hi, little one…” she purred into your ear, making you gasp. “I missed you.”

Wanda pulled you into a firm yet gentle embrace, enveloping you completely. Her arms around your waist felt both protective and possessive, and you couldn’t help the slight shiver that ran down your spine. Her scent—a mix of expensive perfume and something inherently her—surrounded you, and you almost closed your eyes, as if you could lose yourself in that moment.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Wanda murmured, her voice low and melodic, as if it were a secret shared only between the two of you. “How did you manage so well without me around?”

Your voice faltered for a second before you managed to respond, a slight tremor in your words. “I… don’t know. But I’m glad you’re here now.”

She pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, her fingers reaching up to brush aside a strand of hair that had fallen onto your forehead. The touch was soft but deliberate, and you felt your face heat even more under her intense gaze.

“You’re so sweet,” Wanda said with a smile that seemed maternal but carried something more, something that made your pulse quicken. “And so obedient… I bet you did well.”

You lowered your eyes, feeling both embarrassed and strangely pleased by her words. It felt so comforting, her treating you this way… maternal? Wanda tilted her head, studying you as if reading every thought.

“It’s okay, Dekta. You can relax with me,” she said gently, her fingers now lightly caressing your cheek. “Let me take care of you, okay? You don’t have to worry about anything now.”

You nodded, your submission clear and genuine in the gesture. Wanda seemed pleased, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. Your posture was stiff, almost awkward—as if you weren’t used to this kind of comforting presence.

Wanda noticed your hesitation, the way your shoulders remained tense as if you still weren’t sure whether to relax or keep your defenses up. She didn’t rush anything; instead, her movements were calculated, gentle, as if handling something fragile and precious.

“Shhh, sweetheart,” she whispered, taking your hand and guiding you onto her lap. “Sit here.”

You obeyed without thinking, settling onto her lap with your hands nervously resting on your knees. Wanda didn’t speak for a moment, simply letting her presence envelop you, her calmness radiating until it began to seep into you.

When she placed a hand at the curve of your neck, the weight seemed to dissolve all the tension you’d been holding. She slid it gently down your back, drawing lazy, soothing circles that sent waves of warmth across your skin. You closed your eyes reflexively, feeling strangely safe, as if there was no danger in the world while you were there under her touch.

“There,” Wanda murmured, more to herself than to you. “Let it all go. Everything holding you back, everything weighing on you… you don’t have to carry any of it now. Not while you’re with me.”

She pulled you closer, making you rest your face against her chest. You felt it rise and fall with her steady, deep breaths. She began to hum softly, and the vibration in her chest lulled you further into relaxation.

Your eyelids grew heavier, and heavier, and heavier. Until the last thing you heard was a barely audible whisper.

“Mommy will make it all go away…”

Wanda felt you completely relax in her arms, the weight of your body now light and surrendered. It was a unique, almost intoxicating sensation to realize how much you trusted her, how willing you were to let go. She knew this went far beyond the physical. It was something emotional, visceral.

She observed you for a moment, your long lashes resting on your cheeks as your breathing slowed, rhythmic and calm. Every small movement of yours seemed so innocent, so vulnerable, that Wanda felt a surge of emotions she hadn't realized she was capable of experiencing. A mix of tenderness, possessiveness, and something burning deep within her: the need to care for you, to protect you... to have you entirely for herself.

She ran her fingers through your hair, gently combing it as she murmured soothing words, almost inaudible. "Good girl… so sweet, so mine…"

Each word was a quiet reminder to herself, an affirmation of the bond she was building between you. Wanda felt a maternal warmth growing in her chest, something she hadn’t felt since her own children. But this was different, deeper. With you, she didn’t just want to protect; she wanted to mold. To guide you until you completely depended on her.

She tilted her head, her lips brushing your forehead in a soft kiss. A sigh escaped her lips as she allowed herself to sink into the moment, into this role that felt so natural to her. You were perfect like this, Wanda thought. Fragile, delicate, needy.

“My little girl,” she murmured again, with a small, satisfied smile.

And there was something more—a feeling of quiet power. She knew you needed her, that you trusted her in a way no one else could. And it fed something dark and secret within her, a desire to keep you exactly like this: dependent, submissive, hers.

Wanda watched as you slept, your features soft and relaxed. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to disrupt the moment. But at the same time, a part of her was already planning what would come next.

She wasn’t in a hurry. You had all the time in the world, and Wanda was willing to make it last. To mold you little by little, to tear down any remaining barriers, until you no longer remembered who you were without her.

“I’ll take care of you, Dekta,” she whispered, more to herself than to you. “Forever.”

[...]

You wake up with a start, as if everything has been a dream. However, you find yourself in your room, covered with soft blankets that do not seem like your own. You feel light, in such an intense state of relaxation that it leaves you lethargic.

Descending your stairs, you find two packed suitcases leaning against the door. Reaching the kitchen, you see Wanda taking something out of the oven and upon seeing you, she offers you a brilliant smile.

“Look who’s awake…”

You blink, still drowsy, trying to process the scene in front of you. Wanda is there, impeccable as always, with an apron tied around her slim waist, her hair perfectly arranged, her face illuminated by that smile that seems both welcoming and… dangerous.

“Did you sleep well, Dekta?” she asks, her soft voice laden with a warmth that makes you blush instantly.

You murmur something inaudible, feeling a bit awkward under her penetrating gaze. Wanda places the dish on the counter and approaches slowly, like a predator observing its prey.

“You looked so calm,” she says, her eyes scanning your face, every reaction being silently noted. “I made sure you needed this rest.”

“I… thank you,” you murmur, swallowing hard as she continues to approach.

“No need to thank me, dear,” Wanda replies, now close enough for you to feel the warmth of her body. “I said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”

You nod, your throat dry, unable to find words. The way she looks at you, like she can see right into your soul, is both disarming and captivating.

“Come,” Wanda says, extending her hand to you. “Sit down. I made something special.”

You hesitate for a moment before accepting her hand. Her warm fingers wrap around yours, and the touch is enough to make your heart race. She guides you to the table, where plates are elegantly arranged with a breakfast that looks like it came from a culinary magazine.

Wanda pulls a chair out for you, her eyes never leaving yours as you sit down. She leans slightly, adjusting the blanket still draped over your shoulders, and whispers: “Are you comfortable, my little girl?”

You can only nod, feeling your cheeks burn. There is something about the way she says these words, the way she takes care of you, that makes your head spin.

As you eat, Wanda sits across from you, watching with a calm yet unyielding intensity. Each time you look up at her, you feel a warmth rising up your spine.

“You seem nervous,” she comments with a subtle smile, tilting her head. “Is everything alright, Dekta?”

“I just…” you hesitate, your fingers playing with the fork. “I’m not used to… this.”

“To what?” she asks, her voice low and inviting, her eyes fixed on yours.

“To someone taking care of me like this,” you admit, your voice a bit shaky.

Wanda smiles, this time with a depth to her expression. “Then it’s time for you to get used to it.”

The silence that follows is heavy, filled with a tension you don’t know how to dissipate. Wanda reaches out again, this time holding your hand across the table, her fingers tracing soft circles on your skin.

“You know you can trust me, don’t you?” she asks, her voice almost a whisper.

You nod slowly, your eyes locked with hers.

“Then show me,” Wanda continues, her eyes darkening slightly. “Show me that you trust me, Dekta.”

Your heart races. You know what she is insinuating, you know what she is expecting. But taking the initiative seems as frightening as it is necessary.

You take a deep breath, trying to gather your courage, and slowly lean over the table. Wanda’s gaze never wavers, encouraging you, pulling you closer.

And then, finally, your lips meet hers in a hesitant but emotion-filled kiss. Wanda responds immediately, but with delicate control, guiding you as if she knows exactly how to make you comfortable.

When you pull away, breathless, Wanda’s eyes shine with a mix of satisfaction and something more, something that makes your legs tremble.

“Such a brave little girl…” she whispers, her voice as sweet as it is possessive.

You exhale.

“I’m not a baby.” You say, forcing your pride.

Wanda clicks her tongue and murmurs something under her breath.

“Oh, yes… You’re a big girl, aren’t you?”

But what is this? You’re a girl! And a big one! Why is she talking to you like you’re some stupid child? And why is it sending waves of heat to your core?

Wanda forces you to look at her and meet her intense, wild—and cruel—eyes. You stay like this for a moment, until your body starts to tingle under the effect of her presence.

“Are you okay, sweetheart? You’re squirming all over…” she blows into your ear, making you let out a small moan. “Do you feel strange, my sweet?” you try to escape her, averting your gaze, but Wanda seems determined to see you embarrassed and small in front of her.

You nod your head, trying to stammer a response while being caught up in her.

“Uh, I know, dear. I know…” the older woman murmurs. “But I want you to use your big girl words and tell me where it feels strange.” her voice seems to grow, almost as if she’s holding back.

“I…” You rub your legs together, trying to alleviate the growing burn in your core.

“I know it's hard, isn't it, sweetheart?” You nod vehemently. She’s so close it’s making you lose your senses. “But you’re a smart girl, aren't you? I know you can. Use your words for me, come on, Y/n.”

Breathing deeply, trembling, looking at her, her lips so close to yours you could lean in and capture them. A trembling hand resting against your core.

“Here.”

“Ah, your tummy? Your tummy feels strange?” she places her hand over the spot and starts massaging it, making you automatically let out a moan at the feel of her warm palm.

So close to where you need it most, but so far…

“Eyes open for me, baby.” at the woman’s command, you realize you were so relaxed you had closed your eyes, and upon opening them, you see her most radiant smile.

“Good girl! There you are!” Wanda purrs, making your eyes roll back at the feel of her breath in your ear.

You smiled shyly, loving the taste of her words.

“Do you want anything else, dear?”

You shake your head, feeling your hair mess up with the movement.

“No? It doesn’t feel slimy anywhere else?” the wrinkle in her forehead showed she wasn’t happy.

Her hand, which previously held your cheek gently, now holds your chin, her fingers pinching your cheeks, making a painful pout. Not too harsh in itself, but firm enough to remind you who’s in charge.

"It's not polite for little girls to lie," her tone is severe in a way that makes you feel like you're being chastised.

You whimper at the thought that she might be mad at you.

"I'm sorry, Wanda..." your words come out a bit muffled by the way she’s pinching your cheeks.

Her expression softens and she lowers her face to the crook of your neck, hugging you against her as she places a kiss against your nape.

"I know, dear, it’s okay." she says, rubbing firm circles on your back. "Perhaps I should just check then, hmm?"

Your eyes widen in shock but she just smiles, seeming delighted, as if she didn’t just The smile that formed on Wanda's face was not the same as before. It was deeper, more laden, as if she had just claimed something she always knew was hers.

“I…”

"Big girls know where they feel everything. I thought you were a big girl, Y/n." she arches an eyebrow, provocative.

"I am!" You shout, frustrated.

"Then prove it." Her voice is dark and husky, making the pulse between your legs increase tenfold.

No one has ever touched you down there, thinking about it always made you so nervous. Wanda seems to know this—however, your inexperience seems to please the woman.

With trembling hands, you take her hand—perfectly manicured with red nails, dragging it down below the navel, resting it on top of your panties.

“Oh, sweetheart…” her voice comes out trembling. Wanda presses her fingers to you, making your hips jerk and a high-pitched and needy moan escape. “You’re so beautiful…” she murmurs as if it’s the simplest and most obvious thing in the world.

“It… hurts.” whining, you try to move your hips toward her again, offering yourself.

“Do you want Wanda to make it go away?” hearing the woman refer to herself in the third person is strange, you frown, but you nod. “Words.”

“Yes.”

The woman stops all of her stimuli suddenly, making you protest.

“Yes, what?” she prompts something you don’t understand, so she starts moving her hand up to your neck—squeezing, squeezing and squeezing.

“Yes, Wanda…?” the sentence comes out muffled with a hint of insecurity.

Wanda huffs, leaving you confused. What does she want?

She loosens her grip and backs away a bit.

“How about this?” her hands squeeze your hips and rub against the bottom of your stomach, as she makes you straddle her; pulling your body against hers in a way that creates exhilarating pressure on your pleasure point.

A dragging and needy moan escapes your throat.

"Oh, is that good?" Wanda laughs, as you nod weakly.

The dress you wear starts to bunch up around your waist. Wanda's gaze is lost, as if she’s thinking about many things at the same time.

"You’d look lovely in my clothes, kitten." she moans.

Wanda slides her fingers inside your pussy, not deep enough to break your hymen, but to explore.

“Are you getting close, dear?” without thinking, you nod.

She extends one hand to toy with your hard nipples.

"My beautiful girl..." she moans.

Wanda pulls you harder against her. Your sex is so wet, the lewd and sticky sound is audible, while she beams brightly at you.

"Do you hear that? Hear the mess you’re making on my hand?" She taunts, her fingers moving in slow circles, pushing you to the edge.

“I’m going to cum!” you whimper to her with glassy eyes.

“Are you going to make a huge mess on Mommy’s lap?” she was as desperate as you were—dark and wild eyes.

The woman grips your hips even tighter, pressing you against her even faster.

“It’s okay, little girl. I’m here for you!” exploding against her a few seconds later, you let out a loud, high-pitched, irregular cry of pleasure.

Babbling helplessly, fixing your eyes on the sea green of hers, you let her guide you.

“There she is! There’s my pretty girl…” she says, sniffing your skin.

You’ve never felt like this.

Not sure if it was the peak of edging, the constant arousal, or Wanda’s extremely sexy and dominant overall presence. But that orgasm was the most incredible thing you’ve ever experienced.

Wanda pulls you close to her, kissing the top of your head, soothing you, giving you all the time you need to return to yourself. Whispering quiet words of reassurance, and gently caressing your pussy, inducing your aftershock tremors post-orgasm.

“Thank you…”

She laughs softly, combing your hair back from your damp forehead with her fingers. She gives you a kiss, smiling as she sees you trying to caress her shakily.

You cuddle against Wanda, her scent enveloping you like a blanket that warms and calms. Her breathing is steady, a tranquil beat in contrast to the internal turmoil you feel. Your mind is a whirlwind, trying to process everything that happened, but your body seems to have other ideas, sinking deeper into that moment of comfort and surrender.

“Why…” you begin, your voice sounding fragile, hesitant. “Why do I feel like this around you?”

Wanda tilts her head, her green eyes glowing with something you can’t completely decipher. There’s a trace of tenderness, but also something deeper, something that seems almost possessive.

“Like what?” she asks softly, her fingers still stroking your hair.

“Relaxed…” you confess, swallowing hard as you try to find the right words. “As if… as if nothing else matters. As if I can just… let go of everything.”

She smiles, a small smile but full of meaning. “Because you trust me,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And because I make you feel safe, don’t I, my sweet little girl?”

You blush, her words hitting something deep inside you. It’s true. There’s something about Wanda — the way she looks at you, touches you, guides you — that makes all your barriers fall, as if you can finally be yourself without fear of judgment or rejection. But that leaves you vulnerable, and that vulnerability scares you as much as it comforts you.

“It’s… strange,” you admit, lowering your gaze. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

“There’s nothing strange about it,” Wanda responds, her voice firm but gentle. “You’ve never had someone take care of you like this before, have you?”

You shake your head slowly, feeling tears threatening to form. She’s right. All your life, you’ve built walls around yourself, keeping others at a distance, believing that independence was your only option. But with Wanda, those walls no longer seem necessary.

She leans in and kisses your forehead, a gesture so gentle it makes your heart ache. “You don’t need to worry, darling. I’ll take care of you. Always.”

Her words resonate within you, like a promise that seems impossible to break. You look at her, your eyes meeting, and for the first time you feel like you can truly believe it.

“Come on,” Wanda says after a moment, stroking your cheek. “I made a strawberry pie, and I want you to try it while it’s still fresh.”

She helps you up, guiding you to the kitchen as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. And somehow, in her presence, everything really does feel easier, lighter. As though, for the first time, you’re not alone in the world.

Wanda is seated across from you, with a generous slice of strawberry pie balanced on a pristine plate. Her eyes sparkle with joy, and you notice a mischievous smile forming on her lips.

“Now, open up, little girl,” she says, holding a spoonful of the pie right in front of you.

You blink, blushing immediately. “I can feed myself, you know?”

“Oh, I know,” Wanda replies, her voice sweet but with a clear tone of amusement. “But where’s the fun in that? Come on, don’t be shy.”

You hesitate, feeling the blush rise even more in your cheeks. But before you can protest again, Wanda tilts the spoon towards your mouth. “Be a good girl,” she murmurs, her eyes playing with an unmistakable gleam.

Sighing, you give in and open your mouth, allowing her to place the spoon inside. The sweetness of the pie explodes on your tongue, and you can’t help but let out a small moan of approval.

“See? I knew you would like it,” Wanda says with a broad smile, but soon the smile turns into a genuine, warm laugh that reverberates through the kitchen.

Hearing that laugh made your heart tighten. It was contagious, and you ended up smiling as well, even as you tried to wipe the corner of your mouth with your hand.

“Okay, your turn,” you said, grabbing her spoon, but before you could reach her, Wanda gently held your wrist.

“Oh, no, dear,” she said, leaning forward. “I said I’m feeding you today. Relax and let me take care of that.”

She dipped the spoon back into the pie and, before you could protest again, was already offering you another spoonful. You shook your head in an exasperated gesture, but obeyed, feeling ridiculously embarrassed and, at the same time, warmed inside.

“I look like a child,” you muttered after swallowing.

“A lovely, sweet, and stubborn child,” Wanda teased, laughing again. “And it pleases me much more than it should. Now, open up again.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed along with her, the tension that always seemed to hover between you momentarily forgotten. For a moment, it was like the world was simple, made only of laughter, strawberry pie, and the strange feeling of being exactly where you should be.

The kitchen was full of relaxed laughter as you and Wanda shared the dessert. The strawberry pie was delicious, but the real sweetness was in the interaction between you two. Wanda, always with that air of control and fun, kept feeding you, insisting on larger spoonfuls despite your protests.

“I swear I’m full!” you said, gently pushing her hand away while laughing. “If I eat more, I will explode like a balloon!”

“Explode? Nonsense,” Wanda replied with a mischievous smile. “You still have space. I’ve barely started.”

“You are impossible,” you muttered, still laughing as you tried to dodge another spoonful. “And if I really explode? Then it will be your fault.”

“If that happens, I will clean up the mess,” Wanda replied casually, but the predatory look suggested something more.

You laughed again, but then Wanda straightened up, looking at the empty plate. She seemed to change her tone suddenly, adopting a more serious air. “Okay, enough pie. Time for you to drink a glass of water and maybe rest some more.

"I want to watch a movie now." You request, with puppy dog eyes. “Not now, dear. Maybe if you behave until evening, I’ll let you choose.” Wanda smiled, getting up, placing the dishes in the sink.

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the authoritative tone. “Oh, no, mommy, please!” you said playfully, making a face and stretching your arms dramatically.

The air in the kitchen changed. The earlier lightness was replaced by something denser. Wanda’s eyes darkened, the smile disappearing as she tilted her head slightly as if studying you.

“Say it again,” she demanded, her voice low and laden.

The blush rose instantly on your face. “I was just joking, Wanda,” you began, but the intensity of her gaze made your voice falter.

“Say. It. Again.” She repeated, moving slightly closer, the tone firm but not aggressive. It was a command, not a request.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. There was something in her eyes, a mix of authority and desire that made you dizzy. With a mixture of shyness and hesitation, you murmured: “Mommy…”

The smile that formed on Wanda's face was not the same as before. It was deeper, more laden, as if she had just claimed something she always knew was hers.

"Good girl," she said softly, leaning in to caress your cheek. "Come. Let's pick your movie now." She takes your hands, pulling you both onto the couch—making your eyes shine as you realize the power of that single little word.

During the chosen movie—Disney's Tangled—Wanda's mind began to work. Hearing you say "Mommy," the woman felt something she hadn't expected: a wave of warmth, a sense of completeness that seemed to touch every part of her being. It was as if a piece of the puzzle she didn't even know was missing had perfectly fallen into place. For a brief moment, she paused, as if time had frozen, absorbing the moment with an intensity that nearly took her breath away.

The word echoed in her mind on a loop, like a melody composed exclusively for her. It wasn't just the sound, but what lay behind it: the surrender, the trust, the recognition. A mix of possessiveness and tenderness flooded her. It was more than desire, more than control—it was something primal, a protective instinct that made her chest swell with pride and satisfaction.

Her fingers stroked your cheek almost reverently, while her eyes burned with intensity. "My little girl," she thought, a smile appearing on her lips as she realized the impact she had on you. There was something deliciously addictive about the way you submitted, even without fully understanding just how much you did.

Wanda had always been in control, always the one leading others, but this was different. With you, there was a perfect balance between the dominance she cherished and the sweetness she secretly craved. And now, hearing you call her that... Well, that was the cherry on top.

The sight of you curled up against her, like a baby seeking maternal warmth, drove her wild. It made her want more and more of you. Seeing you so unaware of her thoughts—your gentle eyes focused on the screen, captivated by the animation's events, so sweet. You resembled a little lamb—so soft and affectionate—that in two days is taking its graceful leaps; in two weeks is playing 'follow the leader.' Your frailty was part of your charm. A lamb is pure innocence, so innocent that people want to possess it or even devour it. People like Wanda...

She inhaled the scent of your hair deeply, feeling the strength of her emotions, while a certainty formed in her mind. You were not just someone under her control—you were hers, and she would do whatever it took to ensure that never changed.

~*~

Be a good girl, Y/n... Wanda's watching

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @beggingonmykneesforher @rosekjsses @trindad2k @indentity0018 @3liyuh @trying-to-do-good @reginassecretlover

#mommy wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #lgbtq #mommy k!nk #elizabeth olsen x reader #lgbtqia #mommy k1nk #wanda x you #wlw smut #wlw ns/fw #lesbianism #lesbian #bd/sm brat #bdsmkink #bd/sm community

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punkshort · 1 year ago

Text

i'll be home for christmas | part two

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Having just caught your fiancé cheating on you, you decide to come back home from the big city to Austin for the month of December to try to figure out your next step. You had no idea you would be getting more than you bargained for with the handsome single dad who built your parents' house.

Chapter Warnings: no outbreak, modern day but Joel is 40, language, fluff, very soft!joel, flirting, kissing, hallmark movie tropes up the wazoo, mentions of infidelity, mentions of divorce, reader's sister is pregnant, hurt/comfort, explicit smut (18+MDNI), (somewhat) unproteced piv sex, angst (but you know there will be a happy ending, this is Hallmark, after all)

WC: 12K

A/N: I am so overwhelmed at the response I received for part one. No contest, it's my most successful story to date, and I can't thank you all enough ❤️ I really hope you enjoy this part just as much. Please read the warnings, this has some (very sweet and soft) smut at the end, so if it isn't your thing, feel free to skip it.

Series Masterlist

Joel sat in his truck, the engine long cooled down by now, as he stared blankly at his garage door, waiting for the stupid grin to leave his face before he went inside to face his brother. But he had been sitting there for almost twenty minutes, and he was still smiling behind the back of his hand.

That date with you was perfect. Well, he could have done without getting knocked on his ass by some kid, but it worked out for him in the end, so he didn't mind.

Goddamn, did you make him feel good. There was no way he would be able to sleep that night, he was sure of it. Not after the way you looked at him, touched him, kissed him. A big part of him wondered for a long time if he would spend the rest of his life alone, believing that lightning doesn't strike twice, that he would never find anyone who would look at him and want him the way you did.

He ignored the nagging voice in the back of his head that reminded him you didn't live there, that you would be going back to New York in a couple short weeks. He couldn't let that bring him down just yet, that was a problem for another day. Right now, his only problem was resisting the urge to drive back to your house and scoop you up in his arms so he could make you feel as good as he felt.

It was close to midnight, so he caved and went inside, hoping his brother would be too groggy to interrogate him. When he walked in and saw Tommy and Sarah lounging on the couch, wide awake and watching some action flick, his face fell.

"Hey, it is way past your bedtime, the hell are you doin'?" Joel scolded, sliding off his boots.

"Dad, c'mon, it's the weekend," Sarah whined.

"Don't care, you know the rules," he told her, trying to sound firm, but he had such a soft spot for her that he never succeeded in sounding threatening.

"But it's a special occasion, I wanted to hear how your date went," she grinned, sitting up and wiggling her eyebrows. Joel's jaw dropped and shot a glare at his brother while stretching his arms out at his side in disbelief.

"Oh, come on, she practically dragged it outta me," Tommy smirked.

"Unbelievable," Joel muttered, collapsing on the end of the couch and rubbing his eyes.

"So?" Sarah pushed, tucking her legs underneath her excitedly.

"I ain't talkin' about this with you," he said, biting his cheek as he stared at the TV.

"Why not?" she pouted, but Joel just shook his head.

"Go brush your teeth," he said.

"Fine," she replied, rolling her eyes as she made her way to the stairs. "But I'll get it out of you one day."

She stomped upstairs and it wasn't until Joel heard the water running that he turned to his brother.

"What the hell, Tommy? You know I didn't want her knowin' about that," he said, exasperated.

"Oh, relax," Tommy said, stretching his arms above his head. "She's sixteen, Joel. She's smart. She figured it out herself, I just confirmed it after gettin' the third degree."

Joel sighed and tipped his head back onto the sofa, closing his eyes.

"Christ," he muttered.

"What's the big deal?"

Joel sat up and opened his eyes.

"Big deal is, she lives in New York. There's no future there, we were just hangin' out, and I don't need Sarah gettin' her hopes up," Joel explained, trying to downplay his feelings, but his chest squeezed at the thought of you leaving one day.

"Ever hear of long distance?" Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That never works," Joel replied, shaking his head.

"Well, maybe you should make it work," he said, sitting up and muting the TV. "You know, Sarah just wants you to be happy, Joel. We both do," Tommy said somberly. "Told me tonight she's worried about you bein' all alone when she goes off to college."

"I'll be alright," he said gruffly, although the same thought was plaguing his mind recently, as well.

Tommy stared at his brother a moment as Joel watched the TV, pretending to follow the story even though there was no audio. He decided to drop it for now and changed the subject.

"So, you gonna tell me how it went or what?"

Joel bit his lower lip, trying to keep himself from smiling, but he failed. Tommy noticed right away and grinned, leaning forward to tap his knee.

"I know that look," he said, still grinning.

"Yeah, alright," Joel finally said with a smile. "It was great. Really fuckin' great."

"Hell yeah!" Tommy yelled, and Joel immediately shushed him, pointing upstairs.

"She's funny and she's sweet, we had a real nice time," Joel said, his grin permanently etched on his face now.

"I figured it went well since you got home so late," Tommy replied with a wink.

"I ain't gonna sleep with her on the first date," he whispered, just in case Sarah was listening. He settled back into the couch as Tommy turned the TV volume back on, letting the movie play for a minute before adding, "She's a good kisser, though."

"Oh, I can't wait to meet this girl," Tommy chuckled with a shake of his head. "Haven't seen you smile this much in years."

"Yeah, well," Joel replied noncommittally, still smiling like an idiot and staring at the TV. He decided to stay downstairs that night, finishing the movie and then starting another one on the couch long after Tommy left, unable to quiet down his mind long enough to fall asleep until nearly three in the morning.

You woke up the next day, stretching your arms above your head with a big yawn, not ready to get out of bed yet but the voices downstairs told you it must have been late. With a groan, you reached over and snatched your phone off the charger. When you saw you had a text waiting for you, your heart skipped a beat until you read Sydney's name and not Joel's. Your eyes flicked to the top of the screen, noting it was close to ten in the morning, before sliding open the text.

Sydney: sorry forgot to reply yesterday. I saw will at black & blue, he was hammered and falling all over the place

You scowled, not interested in whatever your ex was up to, so you replied with just the thumbs up emoji and set your phone back down.

Staring at the ceiling, you dreamily thought about your date with Joel. God, he really took you by surprise. You were proud of yourself for taking that first big step forward and putting yourself out there again, but you had no idea it would feel like this. You weren't even sure you ever felt like this with Will. Even when things were good, Will never treated you the way Joel did last night. He was so earnest and respectful, opening doors for you and actually listening to you talk about work. And he didn't even try to feel you up, either, although you probably wouldn't have minded. Maybe it was those Southern manners you were missing this whole time.

With a groan, you dropped your phone back on the nightstand and swung your legs over the edge of your bed, wrapping yourself in your robe, still not expecting it to be so cold in Texas. Even though it was December, it was unusual.

You made your way into the kitchen and made a beeline for the coffee, tossing a wave in the direction of your parents sitting with your sister and brother in law in the living room.

"She lives!" Cassie exclaimed with a smug look on her face. You held your mug up to your lips and blew on the liquid, frowning when the whole family was looking at you with matching, goofy smirks.

"Why are you all looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" your mom asked innocently. You squinted at her as you sat down, not buying it.

"How was your date?" your sister asked. You took a sip of coffee before replying.

"Good," you said simply, nodding your head. Your mom and dad exchanged a look and you frowned again, getting annoyed.

"What?" you asked loudly.

"Nothing!" your dad said, looking back down at his newspaper. Who even still gets the newspaper delivered anymore, anyway?

"Josh, what's going on?" you asked your sister's husband, knowing he was the weakest link. He glanced nervously between you and Cassie.

"They saw you and Joel on the Ring camera," he blurted out, and your family all groaned in unison. Your face flushed beet red, gawking at them all in disbelief.

"Are you kidding me?" you screeched.

"We didn't mean to, Bucky. Dad was reviewing the footage because he couldn't find the newspaper this morning and, well..." your mom trailed off, trying to hide her smile.

"Oh my god," you whined, tucking your legs to your chest and hiding your face.

"Looked like the date was a little more than good," Cassie teased, and you smacked her on the leg.

"I can't believe this," you mumbled to yourself, hiding your face behind your coffee mug and praying someone would change the subject. "How much did you see?"

"Just from when he pulled in the driveway til when you went inside," your mom said with a shrug.

"That's, like, everything, Mom! Oh my god!" Your face was hot with embarrassment now.

"He looks like a good kisser, is he a good kisser?" Cassie asked.

"Shut up!" you whined, covering your face with your free hand.

"There's nothin' to be embarrassed about, he was a gentleman. Held the door open for you and everythin'," your dad murmured, and you groaned.

"Can we talk about literally anything else, please?" you begged.

"Of course!" your mom said, her eyes flicking around the room, waiting for someone to say something, but nobody spoke.

"I'm sorry, Buck, but you gotta see the the smile on his face after you went inside, it was so cute," Cassie said, pulling out her phone.

"I'm going upstairs!" you announced, jumping up from the couch.

"Wait! Are you still coming by later to help paint the nursery?"

"I don't know, are there any cameras there?" you shouted over your shoulder as your climbed the stairs with your coffee to hide in the sanctity of the guest bedroom.

"Well, no. Only because I haven't set the baby monitor up yet," Cassie called back and giggled when she heard you slam your door.

Grumbling to yourself, you flopped back into bed and picked up your phone, looking for a distraction from your embarrassment. You quickly found one when you saw you had a missed text from Joel.

Joel Miller: Question for you - when is the earliest you should text someone without looking too pathetic after you've had the best date of your life?

You grinned as you typed out a response.

You: answer - whatever time you sent this text :)

Joel Miller: Oh, good. Thought I scared you off, sent that about ten minutes ago.

You: sorry, I was downstairs talking to my family, forgot to bring my phone. And I don't think you could ever scare me off

You almost told him about the doorbell camera fiasco, but decided against it. Picking up your mug, you tried not to stare too hard at your phone as you waited for a reply.

Joel Miller: What are you doing later?

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing him again so soon, then quickly stopped yourself, remembering your promise to your sister.

You: I told my sister I would help paint the nursery...

Joel Miller: That's a shame. I was hoping you could teach me something again.

You: oh? lol

Joel Miller: I just realized how that sounded - I meant wrapping Christmas presents for Sarah. I'm awful at it and I have another hunch gift wrapping is a secret talent of yours.

You giggled and rolled over in bed, your embarrassment long forgotten now.

You: you might be right... how about tomorrow?

Joel took the porch steps two at a time, eager to see you again and it hadn't even been a full two days. His finger barely pressed the doorbell when he heard your voice call out I got it! and the door swung open. You smiled up at him, your eyes lighting up before dropping your gaze to his mouth.

"Hi," you said breathlessly.

"Hey," he replied, swallowing roughly.

"Have a nice time, Bucky!" your mom's voice rang out somewhere behind you as you shut the door quickly. Joel grinned, his gaze drifting from your eyes to your mouth before leaning in. You put your hand on his chest and tilted your head back before grabbing his hand and leading him to his truck. Confused, he followed behind and tried not to stare too long at the way your jeans perfectly hugged your ass.

You led him to the passenger side of the truck, but when he reached out to open the door, you snaked your hand up to wrap around the back of his neck, pulling his face down for a searing kiss only when you were sure you were hidden from view.

"Would I sound crazy if I said I missed you?" you whispered.

"No," Joel replied, shaking his head and trying to calm his pounding heart. "Couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you."

"Me, too," you admitted softly, gazing up at him with your beautiful eyes all wide and burning with desire.

He cradled your face in his calloused hand, the other flattened firmly against the truck door behind you as he stared into your eyes, fighting the urge to pick you up and wrap your legs around his waist so he could pin you against his truck and let you feel just how badly he missed you.

Then, you heard your dad's SUV unlock and your eyes widened in panic.

"Shit," you muttered. "We should go. I think they're heading out."

"Alright, maybe I should say 'hi' real quick," he said, pushing himself off the truck and letting his hand drop from your face.

"No! That's okay, we'll be stuck here forever if you do," you said hurriedly. He gave you a curious smile but agreed before opening the door for you and hopping into the driver's seat.

He waited until he backed out of the driveway and was heading down your street before shooting you a sideways glance.

"Everythin' okay?"

You sighed and rubbed your palms over your face before clearing your throat.

"So, remember the other night on the porch, after you dropped me off?"

He smirked and nodded.

"Yeah, I think I remember," he teased.

"Well," you began. "My family saw us on the doorbell camera the next morning," you cringed.

He laughed, throwing his head back just a bit so he could still keep an eye on the road, and shook his head.

"Oh, I hate those fuckin' things," he said, but he was still laughing.

You grinned, your nerves and unease dissipating quickly.

"You're not embarrassed?"

"Nah," he said with a shrug, then turned his head briefly to look at you. "I'm sure we put on a good show."

You giggled, your cheeks tinting pink, and turned your head to look out the window.

"Alright," he said after a minute. "I've waited long enough and I gotta ask."

You swiveled back towards him, waiting for him to continue.

"What's the story with the nickname?"

You groaned and squeezed your eyes shut.

"It's so unbelievably stupid," you said, but he shook his head.

"Well, now you gotta tell me."

"Fine," you said, rolling your eyes, but your playful smile gave you away.

"It's Buck, or Bucky. Short for Bucket," you began.

"Bucket?" he repeated, bewildered.

"I warned you it was stupid!" you protested, and he chuckled. "Anyway, when I was little, my sister and her friends had a sleepover one time, and I overheard them swearing."

"Okay," Joel said slowly, nodding along while he kept his eyes pinned to the road.

"I always looked up to my sister, I was like her shadow when I was younger. So, when I heard them swearing, I wanted to be like them, too, you know?"

"Yeah, I follow," he replied, still not sure how the story related to your nickname.

"Well, thing is, I misheard them. They were saying 'fuck it', but I heard 'bucket'," you explained. "So I went to school and, thinking I sounded cool, I would say 'bucket' to all my friends. We were little, they had no idea what I was talking about, so I explained to them it's a swear word. Before I knew it, I had the whole class saying 'bucket' any time someone dropped something, or got a bad grade on a test, or whatever."

Joel howled with laughter, gripping the steering wheel for dear life as he tried to make it safely into his driveway.

"The principal called my parents and told them what was happening," you continued, joining in and giggling. "They got me home, and-" you doubled over, clutching your stomach as Joel put the truck in park and slumped over the steering wheel, his body shaking as he laughed.

"And I had to tell them the whole story, about why I kept saying it and-" you wiped the tears from your eyes as you took a deep breath. "And - oh my god - my sister got grounded for two weeks-" Another fit of laughter washed over Joel, tears streaming down his face.

"Wait, wait," he gasped, unbuckling his seatbelt so he could turn to face you. "You got in trouble in school, and your sister ended up gettin' punished?"

"Yes!" you squeaked, still giggling.

"Oh, shit," he breathed, panting as he leaned the back of his head against the seat rest. "Can't believe you thought that was stupid. That's gotta be the funniest thing I heard in a long while."

"Well, I'm glad I could brighten your day," you said, still grinning.

He rolled his head back towards you, his soft gaze drifting up and down your frame quickly before stopping on your eyes.

"You really do, y'know," he said quietly, and you furrowed your brow, tilting your head in confusion.

"Brighten my day," he clarified.

You bit your lower lip and smiled, looking away as the flush began to return to your cheeks.

"Come on, charmer. Why don't we go teach you how to wrap presents?"

You never really gave much thought as to what Joel's house would look like, but once you saw it, it immediately felt like him. It was a smaller, two bedroom house. When you first walked in, you entered a living room with a leather couch and an oversized recliner. A big screen TV was front and center across from the couch, with a few framed pictures of Joel and Sarah mounted on the wall next to it.

"You want somethin' to drink?" Joel asked, making sure to slide the coat from your shoulders before shrugging off his own.

"Maybe just water," you said, following him into the kitchen. You gasped when you saw his cupboards and immediately rushed over to them while he pulled two bottles of water from the stainless steel fridge.

"Oh my god, Joel," you whispered, running your fingers gently over the designs. Each one looked different but somehow they all were cohesive. Some had small flowers or butterflies carved into the corners, while others had simple, yet intricate designs grooved into the wood.

"Had to practice somehow," he said, feeling his cheeks flush as he walked over to hand you your water.

"God, it's so beautiful," you said breathlessly, unable to look away from the dark, stained wood. Your fingers danced over some stars etched into one of doors, your eyes wide with awe, but he was focused entirely on you. He couldn't get enough of watching the delicate features on your face light up whenever you found something new that pleased you.

"How long does this take for you to do?" you asked, finally dragging your eyes away to look up at him. Your throat tightened when you noticed the heat behind his stare, your pulse fluttering in your neck.

"Depends," he murmured. "Some are faster than others, but I prefer to go slow and take my time. Anythin' worthwhile takes time. Gotta show it respect, gotta care for it."

His low and sultry tone made your face flush, forgetting for a moment you were talking about woodworking.

"Y-yeah," you stammered, clearing your throat. Suddenly, you were feeling short of breath. "That makes sense."

He gazed down at you for another moment, his eyes slowly raking over your face as if committing it to memory before speaking again. Your entire body felt hot, and you cursed yourself for wearing such a thick sweater.

"Ready to go upstairs?" he murmured, still staring at you in a way that made your spine tingle.

"Huh?" you whispered, completely entranced by his deep, brown eyes.

"The presents?" he reminded you with a small smirk.

"Oh, right," you said, finally blinking and looking away. You shakily opened your water bottle after he turned around to lead you to the stairs, your mouth suddenly extremely dry.

As you walked up the steps, you tried to get a look at the pictures that lined the wall, but it was difficult to do without tripping. You thought you had finally gotten your head on straight after that moment in the kitchen, but when you realized he was leading you to his bedroom, you felt the tremble return to your hands.

"Sorry, had to hide everythin' in my closet, she's too nosy," he said over his shoulder.

"No problem," you squeaked, trying not to stare at his neatly made bed. Your eyes briefly drifted over the end tables filled with personal effects. You thought you saw a chapstick, a cord for a phone charger, and a worn paperback book, but you didn't want him to catch you, so you looked away quickly.

He opened his closet and you were surprised to find his clothes packed away so neatly. For a bachelor, he kept a really clean house. He pulled out the bags of gifts from the shelf above his clothes, then the wrapping paper, which was leaning against the corner.

"D'you think we got enough room?" he asked, glancing around at the floor.

"Yeah, of course," you said, sitting down crossed legged on the carpet. You reached out for the wrapping paper and rolled it out in front of you as he sat down at your side, taking out her gifts one by one. You felt yourself involuntarily clench as you watched his large hands deftly lay out each item on the floor, his muscles twitching slightly under the tanned skin of his exposed forearms.

"I know what you're thinkin'," he said, and your eyes widened in surprise. "I spoil her, I know, but she's such a good kid, I can't help myself."

That was definitely not what you were thinking, but you chose to keep that to yourself.

"I think it's sweet," you told him. "You seem like a really good dad."

Now it was his turn to blush. He tried to turn his head away so you wouldn't see, murmuring his thanks as you each picked an item to start. After a quick tutorial, which included way too much tape and ripped paper, Joel finally seemed to get the technique down. It only took until about halfway through the pile for you to muster up the courage to bring up a topic you couldn't help but be curious about.

"So," you began, hoping you came off nonchalant. "Is Sarah with her mom this Christmas, or..."

Joel's fingers fumbled for a moment with the wrapping paper, but he quickly recovered.

"Uh, no," he replied, keeping his eyes cast down on the shoe box in front of him. "She's not in Sarah's life anymore."

"Oh," you said, unable to keep the surprise from your voice, but you didn't push him any further. Your mind was scrambling, trying to think of something else to talk about, when he sighed and leaned back, abandoning the gift.

"I'm sorry, this is all so new to me, I probably should've told you about her sooner," he said, feeling guilty, but you quickly shook your head.

"No, you don't have to-"

"I want to," he said, cutting you off. You clamped your mouth shut and turned your body so you could give him your full attention, leaving the hair dryer you were wrapping on the floor next to you.

He drew a shaky breath in and looked up at the ceiling before speaking.

"There's not much to say, really. I'm still not always sure what happened," he began. You nodded, staying quiet and letting him take his time. "We were together since high school, ended up stayin' together after graduation. Sarah was a surprise, we were both still so young but we made it work. It was hard, but once me and Tommy got the business goin', it made things a bit easier."

Your fingers tangled together in your lap as you listened, refusing to say anything until he was done. His gaze drifted towards a fixed point on the wall as he continued.

"From what I gathered, she felt like havin' Sarah so young robbed her from doin' certain things in life," he said heavily. "Said she couldn't do it anymore. Didn't want her life to pass her by and be full of regret."

You bit your lip. The pain was clear as day on his face and it was making your chest ache.

"Well, anyway. I thought maybe she would go off for a couple months, do whatever it was she thought she was missin' out on. Parties, college... other men," he added the last part quietly, and you dropped your gaze to the floor. "Get it out of her system, y'know? But she just... never came back. Eventually, the calls came less and less, and I put two and two together. Didn't even get a courtesy call before I got served with the papers."

He rubbed his eyes, trying so hard not to look like a blubbering idiot in front of you. You reached your hand out and placed it gently on his knee, giving him a reassuring squeeze. He dropped his hand from his face to cover yours, staring at your coupled hands for a moment.

"Joel-"

"It was just so fuckin' hard on Sarah, y'know?" he said, his voice cracking. "I had no idea what to tell her. She cried almost every night, askin' me why her mom didn't love her anymore."

"Oh, Joel," you whispered, unable to hold back any longer. You closed the small gap between you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him into your chest, your fingers gently raking through his hair. "I'm so sorry," you told him, burying your nose in the hair on top of his head, breathing in the citrus scent from his shampoo.

He didn't say a word. He just tugged you closer and closed his eyes, leaning into your comforting touch with a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry," he finally managed to croak out. "I'm throwin' way too much at you, I know you didn't sign up for this."

"Shh," you whispered into his hair, then tilted his face up to look at you, his dark brown eyes glassy with unshed tears. "It's okay," you murmured, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. A solitary tear slipped down his cheek when he pulled back to look deep into your eyes.

"It's okay," you repeated, wiping away the tear with the pad of your thumb before placing another gentle kiss against his lips.

He hummed contently against your mouth, sliding his hand up to the back of your neck and pressing his lips more firmly against your own, scared to let you go because if he did, he was sure he would fall apart.

Your grip on his hair tightened as he leaned forward, one strong arm wrapped around your midsection and the other pressed against your back. You mumbled something against his mouth when he tried to lay you down and knocked over a small pile of DVDs.

"Fuck," he whispered and, oh god, the way he said it made your legs turn to jelly and your cheeks flare with heat.

Frustrated, he tightened his grip around you and lifted you up, refusing to break the kiss. A tiny, high pitched squeak slipped past your lips as you wrapped your legs around his hips, letting him carry you to his bed.

He laid you down carefully on top of his plush, navy striped comforter. You sighed into his mouth, your legs loosening around his waist and falling open while you dragged your hands out of his hair and down to his shoulders, wrapping your fingers around his biceps to keep him close. He hovered above you, balancing all his weight on his elbows while his fingers played with the ends of your impossibly soft hair.

He slipped his tongue easily past your lips with a low groan, the noise going straight to your core, making the ache between your legs almost painful while your tongue danced with his, the two already so familiar with each other.

You tipped your head back with a gasp, desperate for air, but he kept going, unable to stop himself. His lips brushed against your jaw before his teeth and prickly beard scraped against the sensitive skin behind your earlobe. You let out a needy whimper and arched your back at the sensation, pushing your breasts into his broad chest as goosebumps spread over your whole body.

"Oh god, Joel," you whined softly, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Yeah, baby?" he replied, his voice thick and muffled against your neck. Baby. Jesus, this man was unraveling you so fast, it was making your head spin.

"I-I know we said this was casual, but-" the words got trapped in your throat as you cut yourself off, unable to finish your thought.

"I know," he said, his voice strained. "Fuck, I know."

He lifted his head away from your neck as he stared down at you, patting your hair back and away from your face as he panted slightly for breath.

You looked up at him, eyes watering as you tried not to think about your time coming to an end in a couple short weeks. You could tell he was thinking the same but didn't want to say it, the pain behind his eyes was obvious.

He blinked a couple times, the clouds clearing as he forced himself to focus on the present. He had you here in his arms, in his bed, underneath him right now. And he was going to be damned if he didn't soak up every single second.

He leaned back down and locked his lips on yours again, this time moving slower, more gentle and tender. He wanted to treat you right. You deserved it, and he wasn't going to give you anything less than what you deserved while he still had you.

You loosened your grip on his arms and allowed your hands to drift to the buttons of his flannel, slowly and shakily undoing them. His heart began to slam against his chest when he realized what you were doing, his mind going fuzzy with desire.

He pulled his head back when you were about halfway down his shirt, looking down hazily at your fingers working open the buttons as he desperately tried to think straight.

"Dad?" Sarah called from downstairs, the front door slamming shut. "Are you here?"

"Shit," Joel mumbled, scrambling off of you as he clumsily tried to redo his buttons. You jumped off the bed, leaning over so you could see into the mirror above his dresser, raking your hands through your tangled hair and quickly fixing your sweater.

"Yeah!" Joel shouted back, glancing over at you to make sure you were decent. "Sorry," he whispered, but you just grinned. Then his eyes fell to the half wrapped presents on the floor.

"Wait! Don't come up-" he called out as he heard her skipping up the steps. Joel grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the room, closing the door behind you both just in time.

"What? Why?" Sarah asked, then froze when she saw you. She looked up at Joel, then back to you, and a slow smile spread across her face.

"Ohhh..." she said with her hands on her hips. "Now I see."

"N-no, it's not what it looks like, she was just helpin' me wrap some gifts," Joel stammered, jutting his thumb over his shoulder. You shifted your weight nervously as you looked back and forth between them.

"Then why are you missing a button on your shirt?"

You both glanced down at his flannel, and she was right. He missed fixing a button in all the chaos. Your face flushed beet red as you stared at the ground while Joel hurriedly fixed the button, cursing under his breath. When you dared to look back up at his daughter, she was smirking playfully at you. Joel cleared his throat.

"Sarah, this is-"

"Yeah, I know, I remember from the party. The pretty dress, right?" she asked, and you nodded.

"Yeah, that's right. Nice to see you again," you said awkwardly.

She nodded, still smirking and looking at you and Joel. You could tell she loved catching her dad in this uncomfortable situation.

"Oh, crap. I forgot. Uncle Tommy is waiting for you in the driveway, said he needed your help unloading some work stuff out from the back of his truck," Sarah said.

"Ah, dammit, alright. You okay for a couple minutes?" he asked you, eyebrows raised.

"Of course," you said. He nodded, walking down the hall past Sarah, muttering "be good" to her as he walked by.

You listened as Joel made his way down the stairs and out the front door, leaving you and Sarah in silence, still staring at one another.

"I'm sorry, we really were wrapping gifts," you assured her.

"It's okay," she said with a shrug. "Last year he used duct tape on my presents, I know he needs the help."

You giggled, causing her to laugh, as well.

"Do you play an instrument?" you asked, just noticing the case on the floor next to her feet.

"Yeah, violin. I had practice after school today," she said, picking it up.

"Oh, cool. I played piano growing up, but I was never any good," you said, sliding your hands in the back pockets of your jeans.

"I have my school's Christmas recital on Friday," she said. "My first solo."

"Oh my god!" you said, clapping your hands together, genuinely impressed. "That's incredible! You must be so excited!"

"Yeah, at first, but now I'm getting nervous," she said, glancing down at the case in her hand. "You wanna hear me play?"

"Duh. Absolutely," you said with a grin. Her eyes lit up and a huge smile spread across her face again.

"O-okay. This is my room right here," she said, turning to her right and opening the door. "Sorry it's messy, my dad's gonna kill me."

"It's totally fine," you said, walking in and sitting down at the edge of her bed. You glanced around the room as she set up her music stand. On the pink walls, she had posters up of her favorite bands with a calendar and string lights draped across the room.

"I really like your room," you said, squinting to look at the stickers and drawings she had on her headboard.

"Thanks," she said sheepishly. "My dad let me do whatever I wanted."

You were about to comment on the various trophies she had on her windowsill when Sarah spoke again.

"Just so you know, I don't mind that you're seeing my dad."

Your eyes shot up to hers in surprise, not sure what to say. You hadn't really had a chance to talk to Joel about your relationship and how that would affect his daughter.

"He's been in such a good mood this past week, and he won't tell me but I know it's because of you," she said, pinning you with a familiar brown gaze.

"Oh, that's so sweet, Sarah," you said, finally finding your voice. "Thank you. That means a lot."

"You're welcome," she said. "I just want him to be happy again."

You dropped your gaze to your lap, your chest tightening at the thought of Joel being so lonely all these years.

"Me, too," you whispered, still looking down. Sarah regarded you for a minute before slapping her palms against the tops of her thighs and leaned down to pick up her violin.

"You ready?" she asked. You looked up and nodded, giving her an encouraging smile and sat back to listen as she began playing a hauntingly beautiful version of 'Silent Night'.

Sarah got about halfway through the song when she hit the wrong note and abruptly stopped, dropping her chin to her chest in frustration.

"Hey, it's okay," Joel heard you say softly as he walked back up the stairs. He paused at the top, right outside Sarah's room to listen.

"It's okay to make mistakes. Just go slower, take your time. Anything worthwhile takes time," you told her, and he smiled when he heard his earlier words to you repeated back to his daughter. He took a step forward to lean against the doorframe and watch the two of you, your back to him as you sat on her bed.

"Okay," Sarah said, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes before lifting the violin to her chin and starting over.

Joel listened to Sarah play the same song he's heard a million times already in just the past month alone, but kept his eyes trained on you. The way you gave her your full, undivided attention and encouraged her with a smile or a thumbs up when she would glance over at you shyly made his chest ache.

When Sarah successfully finished the song with no mistakes, you jumped up from the bed, clapping and cheering for her, making Sarah giggle and hide behind her hands.

Fuck, this was going to be so hard.

"Dad?" Sarah asked the next morning over her bowl of cereal.

"Yeah, baby girl?" he replied, frowning as he pulled his bread from the toaster. He sucked his fingertips into his mouth, trying to bring some relief to the quickly reddening skin.

"Can your friend come to my recital tomorrow?"

Joel froze, his fingers still pressed against his tongue as he slowly turned around to look at her. He dropped his hand and took a deep breath.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," he replied.

"You don't think she would wanna go?" Sarah asked, her eyebrows pinched together.

"No, it's not that, I'm sure she would," he said, trying to find the right words.

"Then what's the problem?"

Joel sighed and picked his mug up from the counter, then walked over to join her at the table.

"She doesn't live here, baby. She's goin' back to New York in another week or so, I don't want you gettin' too attached," he finally admitted, watching Sarah closely as she considered his words.

"Well, you guys like each other, right?" she asked, and Joel smirked.

"Yeah, but it ain't that simple."

"Yes, it is, Dad," she said, rolling her eyes and dipping her spoon back into her bowl. "My friend Katy was dating this guy last year and he switched schools over the summer. They're still together, it doesn't matter," Sarah said with a shrug, taking a bite of cereal.

If the topic didn't fill Joel with a sense of dread, he would have chuckled at the comparison, but instead he just sat there quietly, watching his daughter as she finished her cereal and scrolled on her phone.

Sarah pulled on her backpack and was sliding on her sneakers to catch the bus when she called back to Joel over her shoulder.

"Just ask her, okay? Please, Dad?"

Joel sighed, hanging his head between his shoulders and paused his hands over the dishes in the sink.

"Alright," he relented, and he heard Sarah clap her hands behind him before slamming the front door shut.

You: good morning :)

Joel Miller: Good Morning, sweetheart. I didn't think you would be up this early.

You: couldn't fall back asleep. What are you doing

Joel Miller: Just getting to work. Why couldn't you fall back asleep?

You thought about it for a minute from under the pile of blankets on your bed, rolling to your side before answering.

You: I was thinking about you...

Joel Miller: Good thoughts, I hope?

You: VERY ;)

His throat went dry when he opened the text. He glanced around outside his car window, making sure he was still the only one on the job site before replying.

Joel Miller: What are you trying to tell me, baby?

You smirked and bit down on your lip.

You: I was wishing you were in bed with me right now

"Shit," he muttered to himself, glancing around once again before adjusting his pants.

Joel Miller: Me too, what are you wearing?

The answer came back almost immediately.

You: nothing

He groaned and rubbed his palms roughly over his face.

Joel Miller: You're killing me, baby. I have to get working in a minute.

You: i'm sorry ;)

You: I promised my parents I would go to dinner with them tonight, but are you free tomorrow?

Joel took a deep breath, trying to clear the onslaught of inappropriate thoughts from his head when he remembered his promise to Sarah.

Joel Miller: It's Sarah's recital tomorrow night. She asked me to invite you this morning, did you want to go?

He nervously chewed his cheek for a moment before sending another text.

Joel Miller: No pressure, I can tell her you're busy.

He sent his second text right as your reply came through.

You: I would love to!

He grinned and raked his fingers through his hair. Tommy's knuckles tapped on the outside of Joel's window, making him jump. He held up a finger before sending you a quick answer.

Joel Miller: Sounds great. I'll pick you up. Try to go back to sleep. Dream of me.

Joel opened the door and slid his phone in his back pocket, a stupid grin etched across his face as he joined his brother in the half-built storefront they were working on.

"Oh man, you got it bad," Tommy said with a chuckle when he saw the look on Joel's face.

"Alright, what do you think of this one?" you asked Cassie as you stepped out of the bathroom modeling the sixth dress of the day.

"I liked the red one better," she said, glancing up from her phone.

"Are you sure? This one is a little more chic," you said, twisting around to look at your backside in the mirror.

"It's a high school recital, Buck. I don't think anyone is expecting 'chic'," she teased, and you rolled your eyes.

"Well, I just want to look nice, is all," you said, sitting next to her on your bed in a huff. You tapped your phone screen, frowning when all you had was another text from Sydney and nothing from Joel. You opened it up anyway, curiosity getting the best of you.

Sydney: OMG!!!!!!

You sent back three question marks and locked your phone with a sigh.

"You still wanna get together next week so we can look at apartments online for you?" she asked.

"Yeah," you said sadly, looking out the window.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you told her. "Just not ready to go back yet."

"Could that be because of a certain sexy contractor?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Shut up," you smirked, tossing a pillow at her lightly.

"Ooo you like him! Lookit how red you're getting!"

"I'm gonna kill you when that baby's out, you know that, right?" you giggled.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Cassie said, looking back down at her phone as the smile slowly faded from her face. "You know you don't have to go back, right?"

"What do you mean? My job is there, my life is there... everything is there," you replied. "Of course I have to go back."

"What life, though?" she asked, and you frowned at her. "Seriously, Buck. Aside from your job, which you hate, what's left?"

"Well, my friends are there. And I don't hate my job that much. I mean, everyone hates their job a little bit," you said with a shrug.

"Is this what you expected to do when you were in college? Is this what you wanted?" Cassie pressed, sitting up on the bed. "Are you even happy?"

You paused, letting her words roll around in your head for a moment.

"Well, I mean..." you trailed off, not sure how to answer her question.

"If you have to think about it this long, I think you know the answer," your sister said quietly. You groaned and rolled off the bed.

"I'm going back. I have to. I can't just give up because some guy broke my heart," you said, turning around so she could unzip the back of your dress.

"I'm just saying, think about it," Cassie replied. "I wouldn't hate it if my child's aunt was in their life more than twice a year!" she called after you as you shut the door to the bathroom.

Joel eagerly jogged up the porch steps and rang the doorbell, very aware of the camera this time while he fiddled with the cuffs on his dark red button down shirt. He heard high heels clicking on the other side of the door and the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile, which quickly vanished when you opened the door and he saw the dress you were wearing.

"Hi," you said with a shy smile, pulling a soft looking white cardigan on over your shoulders.

He thought he had greeted you. He could have sworn he said something, anything, that didn't make him look like a complete idiot, but apparently nothing came out because you scrunched your eyebrows together when you saw his face.

"Are you okay?" you asked, pulling the door shut behind you.

"Yeah, it's just - Jesus, you look so good," he managed to finally say, tilting his head back to stare up at the roof of the porch for a moment, taking a deep breath.

"Thank you," you said with a giggle. "You don't look half bad, yourself."

He rubbed his forehead, exasperated and flustered before pulling you quickly into his arms and latching his mouth onto yours with a groan.

"Joel," you pulled back breathlessly with a small smile and leaned your head to the side, trying to silently remind him of the doorbell. His eyes raked over you hungrily before shaking his head and pulling you back into a deep kiss.

Fuck the camera, let them see.

You giggled against his mouth, causing him to smile and break the kiss.

"Come on, I wanna get good seats," you said, rubbing your thumb over his lower lip to wipe off your lipstick that transferred. It caused his stomach to clench. That sweet, little intimate gesture made him ache for more so badly that he could hardly breathe.

He walked you around the front of his truck, opening the door and giving you a hand so you could hop onto the seat, the gorgeous red dress you were wearing hugging your curves just right and distracting him to no end.

On the walk around to the driver's side, he mentally scolded himself, reminding himself over and over that tonight was a big deal for his little girl and he needed to stay focused.

As he drove down the street, he realized that his hand instinctively found yours across the seat, his body craving the warmth and softness of your own. How on earth was he going to go back to the life he had before, now that he knows what it's like to bask in the heat of your touch?

Once he got to the school, he found a parking spot and jumped out of the truck. You had figured out by now that he preferred you to wait so he could open the car door for you, so you did. Swinging your legs over the side of the seat, you slid down into his waiting arms, your hands gently coming to rest on the tops of his shoulders. He gazed down at you with his arms loosely hanging around your waist. You saw his adam's apple bob in his throat while he let himself get lost in your warm, beautiful eyes. You lifted a finger from his shoulder, tracing an invisible line down the side of his cheek as you stared up at him with your plush lips parted so invitingly that it made his knees weak.

"Joel! Hey!" Tommy's voice called out from behind, snapping you both out of the moment. Joel sighed and untangled himself from you, taking your hand and leading you forward so he could shut the door before turning around to find his brother.

You could see the family resemblance immediately as Tommy approached you with a wide grin. His hair was a bit darker and a lot longer, and his beard was less full than Joel's, but he had the same soft, brown eyes that you had grown to know and love.

Love? Oh, no.

"Hey, Tommy," Joel said as he got closer, his hand pressed firmly on the small of your back. "This is-"

"Oh, I know who she is. How're you doin', darlin'?" Tommy asked, pulling you into a bear hug, taking you by surprise.

"I-I'm good," you squeaked shyly once he released you. "Nice to meet you."

"I've been dyin' to meet the little lady who's got my brother all wrapped up," he replied with a grin.

"Tommy!" Joel seethed warningly at your side, but you just giggled.

"I'm just messin' around. She knows that, right?" he said, shoving his hands in his coat pocket and rolling on the balls of his feet. "Supposed to snow next week, can you believe it?"

"Yeah, I heard we might get a couple feet," Joel said, steering you toward the doors to the auditorium. "Better get your shovel ready."

You settled in between the two brothers as you found a decent spot in the fourth row. Joel draped his arm around the back of your chair while he chatted with Tommy about work. You inadvertently leaned to the side and rested your shoulder against his chest as you glanced around the room, admiring the lit up garlands around the windows and Christmas trees on the stage with fake presents underneath.

When their conversation died down, Tommy pulled out his phone and began scrolling through social media, holding it low between his spread knees with his chin tucked into his chest.

Joel tilted his face forward to press his lips on the top of your head, breathing in a deep and contented breath. A small smile played across your lips as you turned your gaze up towards him, resting your cheek gently on his shoulder. He looked down at you with a smile and planted a chaste kiss on your forehead, and as each of you slid your eyes closed for a moment, Tommy angled his phone to snap a quick picture, smiling to himself and making a mental note to show his brother later.

The lights dimmed and you all straightened up in your seats. You listened to the music teacher make a small speech at the beginning and politely clapped afterwards. You saw Sarah twice throughout the concert as part of the orchestra, smiling at how focused and beautiful she looked in her white dress. As the concert wound down, Sarah finally came out on stage for her solo, and the three of you eagerly leaned forward. At the last minute, you remembered to pull out your phone and start a video, telling yourself you were doing it for Joel so that he could be in the moment, but you knew you would end up watching it by yourself when you went back to New York City.

The performance was flawless. When it was over, the three of you lept up from your seats, cheering, jumping and clapping, making her wave and blush as she exited the stage. You sat down, giggling, as the people surrounding you gave you all polite smiles and chuckles, then quieted down for the finale.

When the lights came back up, everyone stood from their seats, murmuring and laughing while waiting for their kids to come out from backstage and take pictures. You saw a flash of white out of the corner of your eye and moved out of the way just in time for Sarah to run and jump up into Joel's arms, burying her face in his neck. He squeezed his eyes shut, his arms wrapped around her tightly, murmuring praise in her ear. You felt warmth spread across your chest as you watched them have their moment, the corners of your mouth turned up into a smile with your hands clasped together against your chest.

He let her down gently and she turned to give Tommy a quick hug. He spun her around, making her giggle and fidget with her dress before she turned to you.

"You came!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms loosely around your waist. Your eyes widened in surprise, not expecting such affection from her, but you quickly returned the hug.

"Of course I came! Thank you for inviting me," you said, pulling back with a grin. "You were absolutely perfect, I took a video, I'll send it to your dad so he can show you later."

"I did exactly what you told me, I slowed down and took my time," she beamed, and it gave you a new feeling deep in your chest that you never felt before.

"That's great, Sarah," you replied, your throat tight with emotion. Tommy dropped his gaze from you and ticked his jaw to the side, finally understanding why Joel was hesitant to let Sarah know about the two of you.

"Dad?" Sarah asked, turning away from you. "Can I sleep over at Katy's? She's having a bunch of girls over and her mom said it was okay."

"Uh, sure, baby girl. Don't you need clothes and stuff?"

"I have stuff I keep here in my locker for gym," she said.

"Well, alright, lemme talk to her mom first," he replied, glancing around the room.

"Thank you! She's right over here," she said, grabbing his hand. "Thanks for coming!" she called back last minute over her shoulder to you and Tommy, and you both smiled and waved as she dragged her father across the room.

"She's so talented," you said, turning to Tommy. He looked down at you and gave you a weak smile.

"Yeah, she's somethin' else," he said with a nod. "Hey, listen. I'm havin' a get together next week at my house. Little Christmas party, I guess. I invited a guy I met at your parents' house - Josh? He's comin' with his wife, Joel and Sarah'll be there, I'd love for you to come by if you can."

"Josh is my brother in law," you clarified for him. "That sounds great, I'll be there, thank you."

"You're welcome," Tommy said, then his brows pinched together as he opened his mouth again to speak. "Joel might kill me for sayin' this, but you gotta know how happy you've -"

"Ready to go?" Joel asked, sneaking up beside you. Tommy cleared his throat and gave his brother an innocent smile.

"Yep," you replied, dropping your hand to find his at your side, lacing your fingers together and giving him a gentle squeeze.

After saying goodbye to Tommy, Joel slowly led you through the parking lot to his truck, desperately trying to think of something else you could do, not ready to drop you off yet. He knew the time you had together was coming to an end, and he wanted to soak up every precious second. Especially after the way he saw you with Sarah: so warm and sweet and patient. He couldn't remember the last time he saw his daughter's eyes light up that way.

He prided himself on being a good father since his wife left. Always making sure to put Sarah first, that she got everything she could ever want or need. Especially his love. When his ex abandoned them, he made sure Sarah got every ounce of love he had, hoping it would help make up for the loss. But as hard as he tried, he could never fully fill both roles. There were just some things that a mother provided for her daughter that Joel couldn't give.

He didn't realize it until he saw you with Sarah earlier that night, and then it felt like everything shifted into focus for the first time in his life.

He held out his hand to help you get back into his truck, making sure your legs were safely tucked in before he gently shut the door.

Sitting in the driver's seat gripping the steering wheel, he stared straight ahead for a moment in complete silence, the keys still in his coat pocket while his mind reeled.

"Is everything okay?" you asked timidly. He blinked and turned to you.

"Yeah," he said hoarsely. He swallowed and looked at his watch.

"You wanna get coffee or somethin'? I know it's gettin' late but I'm sure some place's open," he said, deep in thought as he considered the cafés nearby.

"Don't you have coffee at your house?" you asked shyly. His eyes snapped up to yours and he saw the flush creeping up your neck and the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

Oh.

"Yeah, yes," he croaked, nervously clearing his throat. "Let's do that. I have- yeah, good idea," he stammered, fumbling with the keys in his pocket.

You smirked as you watched his shaky hand turn the key in the ignition. He twisted around to back out of the parking spot, and this time you gave into temptation, unbuckling your seatbelt so you could slide over and tuck yourself under his arm. He immediately pulled you closer, not even caring that you weren't wearing your seatbelt. He would make sure to drive safe. Nothing could possibly ruin that night. He wouldn't let it.

At stop lights, you would run your hand up his chest and plant small kisses against the corner of his mouth, filling him with a radiating bliss he never felt before.

Once you got back to his house, you shrugged off your sweater and trailed behind him as he made his way into the kitchen. You leaned against the wall and watched as he opened one of the cupboards - the one with the small birds carved into the bottom - and pulled down a can of coffee.

"I don't think I have any decaf," he said turning to look at you.

"I don't want coffee, Joel," you said lowly. He swallowed roughly and put the can on the counter.

"What d'you want, then?"

You pushed yourself off the wall and slowly walked towards him, his eyes skating up and down your body as you approached. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you tilted your face up to gaze at him, your mouth hovering over his own.

"I want you."

His eyes fluttered closed as your lips slotted against his, his rough hands immediately coming up to cup your smooth face, holding you firmly against his mouth. Christ, he would never get tired of kissing you. If he could do it every single day for the rest of his life, he would. He knew it seemed crazy. He knew you just met, but he couldn't help the way you made him feel.

"Let's go upstairs," you whispered, nipping at his lower lip.

He couldn't speak. He just nodded in a daze and let you lead him coyly up the steps, then turned around to walk backwards down the hall towards his bedroom so you could pull him tightly against your body. His big hands gripped your waist while his tongue slipped past your lips, searching for its mate.

You reached behind you blindly, your hand fighting with the doorknob as his big frame caged you in against the wood, his masculine scent invading your senses and making it difficult to think. Finally, the door swung open and you both stumbled in, a giggle erupting from your throat as your fingers got to work undoing the buttons on his dress shirt.

You hurriedly tugged his button down off, leaving it in a heap on the floor as you slid your palms underneath the white t-shirt he had on, feeling the warm skin of his stomach and chest for the first time.

"Off," you whispered, your heart getting stuck in your throat when he yanked the shirt over his head, leaving his upper body completely bare to you. Your mouth went dry as you drank him in, then lunged forward, your lips brushing up his sternum until you reached his collarbone. You sucked on a bit of tanned skin there with a moan, then slipped your tongue out to press wetly against the red mark you left, feeling drunk off the taste of his sweat.

He gently pushed you backwards so he could ease you down onto his bed, his breath growing erratic and desperate with each little bite you left on his chest. God, has anyone ever desired him this much before? Has he really been missing out on this his entire life?

"Baby, we're gonna have to stop soon if you don't want this to go any further," he murmured. He found himself in the familiar position of hovering above you while his hand slid down your leg and toyed with the hem of your dress.

"I don't think I can take much more, tell me to stop," he whispered when you didn't answer, running the tip of his nose softly against your cheek.

"I don't want you to stop," you gasped as his fingers slipped underneath your dress. You tilted your head back and moaned when you felt his fingertips brush against the damp fabric of your panties.

His mouth hungrily devoured the exposed cleavage of your breasts, growing frustrated with the fabric of your dress keeping him from seeing all of you.

"Sit up," he demanded, leaning back and pulling his hand from between your legs. You obeyed, and he made short work of your zipper, pulling it all the way down so you could shimmy out, leaving you in just your underwear.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered when he realized you weren't wearing a bra. You let yourself fall back gently on the bed, spreading your arms out above your head so he could see every inch of you in the moonlight.

He couldn't believe this was actually happening. He kept waiting for his alarm to go off and reality to slap him across the face, but it never came. His heart was pounding so fast, he was sure you could hear it as he leaned back down and nibbled at your exposed jaw while his calloused hand cupped your soft breast, his thumb flicking over your hardening nipple.

You scraped your nails over his shoulders and down his chest as you arched your back, pressing into his hand, needing to feel the heat of his skin against your own. Your stomach flipped as you made your way down to his belt, and with shaky fingers, pulled hastily at the leather.

Yanking the belt through the loops with one swift motion, you flung it across the room, making him chuckle against your skin. When you started to work on popping open the button on his dress pants, a devastating thought suddenly occurred to him.

"Shit, wait," he said, putting his hand on top of yours. You frowned up at him, your chest heaving, as you gave him a confused look.

"I don't have any protection," he said through gritted teeth. He hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut angrily. "I-I haven't been with anyone since my ex, and I never thought... fuck," he said, clenching his jaw.

You weighed your options for about half a second before tugging his chin up, forcing him to look at you.

"I'm still on birth control," you told him, searching his eyes. "I mean, only if you're comfortable with it, we don't have to," you said, but in your head you were chanting please, please, please.

"Are you sure?" he asked, panting for air. "I don't wanna make you feel like -"

"Yes," you said, cutting him off by grabbing his face. "Yes. I'm sure, Joel. Please," you whimpered, pulling him back down to you, his mouth crashing down on yours again.

"Please," you whispered again, tipping your head back as his lips left a trail of soft kisses down your throat. "Please, Joel, I need you."

His mouth stuttered against your neck. Hearing you beg and say you needed him when he never thought he would ever be needed like this in his whole life made his mind go blank.

"Okay," he rasped. "Okay, baby."

He tugged at the zipper on his black pants and pulled them off as quickly as he could without leaving you. You reached down to help him, hooking your fingers over the band of his boxers and shoving them down. He kicked them off before yanking down your panties, dropping them on the floor next to his clothes.

You eagerly spread your legs so he could settle his hips between them. You glanced down with a small gasp when you saw the size of him and you felt your cheeks flare. Jesus Christ.

He didn't seem to notice your reaction when he was too wrapped up in staring at the wet heat between your legs, pulsing and waiting, just for him. He slid a finger gently between your folds, making you moan and your back arch. Fuck, he loved how responsive you were to his touch.

He readjusted so he was kneeling between your legs. His palms slid up your calves, past your knees and to your inner thighs, pressing them down into the mattress so you were spread wide.

He lined himself up at your center, glancing up at you quickly to make sure you were ready. You swallowed and nodded, your eyes filled with desire, desire for him, something he still couldn't fathom but decided not to question. He pressed forward gently, notching himself against you before falling forward on his elbows.

He kissed the tip of your nose as he eased himself inside you, pausing when he heard you gasp and felt you tense under him.

"More," you finally croaked, your nails coming up to rake against his scalp. He let out the breath he was holding and pushed in further, his eyes fluttering shut and his mouth falling open as he felt you slowly stretch around him so perfectly, like you were made just for him.

"Oh, god," he sighed, dropping his face to the crook of your neck after he fully sheathed himself inside you. He dragged his mouth across your chest, leaving a wet trail from his tongue and red marks from his scratchy beard in his wake. He waited until he felt your muscles relax under him before he slowly rolled his hips, dragging himself in and out as his teeth scraped over your tightening nipples. You moaned his name softly, the sound permanently etched in his brain, a sound he will refuse to forget for the rest of his life.

He began to roll his hips faster at your encouragement, becoming obsessed with the way you felt and the sounds you made, and it was all for him. He spent so much of his life giving to everyone around him, he never truly felt like anyone was able or willing to give him what he needed in return until now. The recognition was depressing and freeing at the same time. Now that he finally had what he always wanted, what he always needed, he was going to lose you and there was nothing he could do about it.

Each moan from your throat and each kiss from your lips dragged him down deeper and deeper until he collided head first with the stunning, yet so painfully obvious, realization that he was deliriously in love with you. It was insane, he knew that. But it didn't make it any less true.

"Joel," you gasped, pulling him out of his trance and back to the present.

"Yeah, baby? I'm here. I'm right here," he whispered, planting soft kisses all over your face.

You bit down on your lower lip and squeezed your eyes shut. The sheer intensity behind his gaze coupled with the agony of only getting to experience this for one more short week made tears burn in the backs of your eyes.

You felt your orgasm begin to swell deep in your belly while your breath became more ragged and your vision went spotty. It shouldn't feel this good. This was cruel, to be able to experience something like this just to have it brutally ripped away from you. It wasn't fair, yet you never wanted it to stop.

He could feel it. It's been years, and it was never, ever like this, but he still knew. The way you whimpered and clawed at his back while your walls squeezed him so tightly, he thought he might pass out.

"Open your eyes," he panted. "I wanna look at you."

You forced your eyes open, now unable to hold back the tears that pooled there as two drops trickled down the side of your face, getting lost in your hair.

"It's okay, I got you," he whispered lovingly, staring deep into your eyes, seeing everything you didn't dare say out loud.

"You can let go, baby," he told you, his hips snapping against you ruthlessly, desperate to come at the same time.

You felt the wave rip through you like fire, the power and emotion behind it unlike anything you ever felt before. More tears poured from your eyes as you cried out his name, your thighs squeezing his hips so tightly you weren't sure you would be able to stand after.

He followed seconds later with a deep groan, spilling himself deep inside you while murmuring praise and wiping away your tears with his thumb.

"Why're you cryin', did I hurt you?" he asked, his voice filled with so much concern that it broke your heart. You shook your head, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand, but fresh ones just took their place.

"C'mon, talk to me," he urged, leaning up a bit as he softened inside you.

"What are we gonna do, Joel?" you blubbered pathetically. He took a shaky breath in and tenderly tucked your hair behind your ear.

"I don't know, baby, but we'll figure somethin' out. We gotta," he said with a sigh.

"I can't lose you," you whispered, pressing your forehead against his and closing your eyes.

"You'll never lose me, I can promise you that," he replied, pressing a gentle kiss against your swollen lips.

He waited until your tears slowed down before sliding out of you with a hiss. Rolling off to your side, he wrapped his arms around your middle and pulled you close against his chest, and as you finally drifted off in his embrace, he thought about all of the options available before you, determined to find a solution.

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bosbas · 29 days ago

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Chapter 7: I wish I could un-recall how we almost had it all

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader WC: 2.0k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, mentions of pregnancy, ANGST!!!!!

Summary: At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)

July 13, 1812 - Waking up the past few days had been absolute torture. But waking up today and seeing the blood on your sheets was worse than any morning you’d ever had.

A part of you was relieved. You had gotten your courses. You weren’t with child. You didn’t have to trap Anthony in a loveless marriage.

It was good news, right?

That’s what you were desperately repeating to yourself over and over as you sat in your bed sobbing uncontrollably.

It truly was over then. There was no baby, and there would be no marriage. You’d be lucky if Anthony ever talked to you again, though you wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. All because you thought it would be a fun game to dabble with someone’s real feelings.

What's more, your courses actually came a few days early. It was like the universe was completely and categorically rejecting the idea of a happy ending with Anthony. It was what you deserved, you supposed. At least the misery of not knowing was over.

To make matters worse, your crying was so loud that your father popped his head into your room, an extremely unusual occurrence.

“What is all this ruckus?” he asked. “Is everything alright?”

Not having the time, energy, or desire to fully explain what was happening, and doubting he’d care, you told your father, “My courses came.”

“Oh,” he said, suddenly growing very uncomfortable. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Predictable. He wasn’t one to get involved with women’s issues.

---

You had given yourself a few hours to mope around your home, mourning the loss of what could have been. But it was time to face your fears, and you headed over to the Bridgerton residence.

It was usually only a few minutes' walk, but you were dreading the impending conversation so much that it was almost fifteen minutes before you reached their front door.

What scared you the most was that you had no idea how Anthony was going to take the news. You knew the responsibility was yours to go to the Bridgerton home and inform him, but you hadn’t seen him or Daphne since the day after your fateful ball.

As you reached their front entrance, before you could even knock, the door burst open and you saw Anthony standing in front of you.

Not that you were in a position to enjoy it, but he looked exceedingly handsome. He was clearly on his way out to go to town, and you didn’t know whether to curse or thank the universe for putting him in front of you before he left for the day.

“Oh!” you gasped, startled. “Um, hello, Anthony,” you greeted awkwardly.

He just stared back, unmoving. He hadn’t been expecting to talk to you for at least a few more days and was entirely unprepared now.

“Daphne’s just inside,” he said after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence.

“No, I’m here to speak with you, actually.”

“Oh,” he said simply, not giving away what he was feeling. It hadn't even been a week! Surely there was no news yet? Surely he could still hold out some hope?

He stepped outside and closed the door, allowing you two some privacy for the conversation you were about to have.

“I- Well, I just wanted to inform you that my courses came this morning,” you said, your voice wavering.

“Oh,” he repeated.

Was that really all he was going to say?

You cleared your throat stiffly. “And evidently no one saw us sneak off to the library the other night, otherwise we’d have heard the rumors by now.” A pause. “I suppose this means you won’t need to propose, then. And we can go our own ways.”

It was like your words ignited something in Anthony, and he finally moved to cross his arms in front of his chest, a prominent scowl on his face.

“I suppose it does. Congratulations. Your little plan worked perfectly, then. Daphne was able to court a scumbag while you distracted me and remained perfectly detached.”

His angry words cut you deep. Almost out of habit when you needed comfort, you reached out for his broken hand that was still bandaged. He took a step back, almost looking panicked as he eyed your outstretched arm.

You felt tears welling in your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall. You deserved no sympathy from the man in front of you.

Blinking them away, you sniffed. “Anthony, I know nothing I say will ever make it up to you but I truly am sorry. It was never my intention to let it go on for so long.”

“And yet you did.”

“I did,” you replied, feeling ashamed. “But you must know, the time we did have together-”

But Anthony interrupted before you could continue. “I’ll be moving into bachelor’s lodgings as soon as possible. That way our paths won’t have to cross again unless there’s a big family event. I wish you the best in your future endeavors, and I sincerely hope you find a love match eventually.”

You choked back a sob. “Is this truly the last time we’ll talk?”

“I can hope,” he responded, cruelly echoing back the words you had said to him a few days ago.

And with that, he pushed past you down the stairs, going toward his waiting carriage, not sparing you a second glance.

You were left crying outside of the Bridgertons’ door, head in your hands as you realized the gravity of Anthony’s statement.

That was exactly how Violet found you twenty minutes later.

“Oh no, my Y/N, what happened?” she asked, placing a comforting arm around your shoulders.

You could only turn and sob into her shoulder, too shaken up to form any coherent words.

Violet, bless her, rubbed your back soothingly as she led you back into her home, her afternoon of shopping completely forgotten now.

“Why don’t we ring for some tea and you can talk to me and Daphne about what’s bothering you?”

An hour later you had calmed down considerably and Daphne was in the middle of apologizing profusely for telling Anthony while Violet tried to process the information her daughter and her best friend had just divulged. You had scrubbed any mention of your escapade with Anthony from the story you told his mother, of course. But most other details remained accurate.

“It’s not your fault,” you waved away Daphne’s apology. “You only told him the truth. He was going to find out eventually, one way or another.”

“But it was my idea in the first place!” she insisted. “And a stupid one at that, seeing how things ended with Phillip.”

“Which we are not done discussing,” interjected Violet, still horrified that someone like him could treat her daughter that way.

“Regardless, I would have come up with the idea myself and gone through with it if you hadn't,” you reassured her. “What’s done is done. I’m only sorry he’ll be leaving home.”

Daphne laughed and shook her head. “He’d been wanting to leave for ages. Besides, it’ll be nice to have some more peace and quiet around here.”

Always one to stay on topic, Violet kept up her line of questioning. “Why don’t the two of you get married still? Your feelings for him are clearly real, no matter how you ended up having them.”

Surprisingly, tears welled up in your eyes again After the day you’d had, you didn’t think you had any left in you, but the situation was just too dire not to cry over it. “He told me earlier he wishes to never speak with me again.”

Violet gasped. “That can’t be right, he would never say such a thing!”

You could only nod glumly, remembering his cold, uncaring eyes as he moved past you earlier that day.

“I just can’t believe I ruined it all,” you cried. “It would have been so wonderful if only I hadn’t acted so carelessly.”

Violet tsked. “You wouldn’t have even looked at him in a romantic light if it weren’t for your silly plan. Who knows if things would have really been different.”

“At least I wouldn’t have a broken heart,” you said softly, wistfully looking out the window.

“There is simply no world in which he can just forget how he feels about you,” insisted Daphne, trying to stay hopeful.

“There’s nothing left,” you said, well aware of the situation you were in and rejecting any fantasies that would make you feel better temporarily. “I made the choices I made and I must live with them now.”

---

“Why is Y/N never round for dinner anymore?” asked Hyacinth suddenly one night.

“Yes, I miss playing chess with her before I go to bed. No one else here seems to want to play,” complained Gregory, in a rare moment of agreement with his youngest sister.

“She does seem to have very suddenly stopped showing up,” said Francesca. She eyed Daphne and Anthony suspiciously, knowing one of the two was bound to be the cause of your absence.

“Well, I certainly didn’t tell her to stop coming,” said Daphne, glaring at her older brother.

Anthony laughed coldly. “That’s rich coming from you. You know exactly why she stopped showing up, and it’s not exactly my fault.”

“Anthony!” exclaimed Violet, shocked at the sudden outburst of anger.

“Forget it,” he grumbled, standing up from the dinner table and storming off to his study.

A few moments later, Violet knocked on the door of Anthony’s study, not waiting for a response before she slipped in and closed the door behind her.

“You’re not truly angry,” she stated, not even posing it as a question.

“Yes, I am,” Anthony insisted.

“Your anger conceals something deeper, and it might do you some good to let it out.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Anthony responded, but his voice lacked his previous conviction. “I am angry,” he repeated, his voice breaking as he tried to convince himself of his feelings.

“It’s not a crime to feel things for someone, you know. Even when they don’t work out.”

“What is the point then? If they amount to nothing?” Anthony pressed, struggling to find a greater reason for the complete heartbreak he felt day in and day out.

It was torture to be away from you, to be sure. But he knew he would never be able to hold it together if he saw you in the flesh. Regardless, that didn’t stop him from missing you. Your rosy perfume. The way you threw your head back when you laughed. How tightly your hands held his hand when you were anxious about something.

And that was what killed him. He’d had real and profound feelings for you. He thought that was it. That you were it. He’d thought he'd found the person he was going to marry. He’d found his present and his future and everything in betweem.

But it had all been a lie. And so the anger kept coming back. And he could do nothing to stop it.

It was misplaced anger, he knew. At you, at the world, at the fact that your courses had come and you would not have his child, and at the fact that he could never have you in a way that truly mattered.

“That is exactly what makes you human, Anthony. You can’t go around life expecting to never be hurt. It’s a rare thing to feel that way about someone.”

“Good. I’m glad it’s rare. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.”

“Anthony!” Violet gasped, scandalized. “Love is not a curse.”

“It certainly feels like one.”

“You could still be with her, you know. All this misplaced love, it’ll do you no good to keep it bottled up.”

“I can’t,” insisted Anthony, his voice breaking again. “I wanted to marry her still. I even asked her. I thought she’d love me back if I only had some time to convince her. But she didn’t want to marry me,” he confessed, succumbing to his feelings and putting his head in his hands as he cried.

“Why don’t you try talking to her again?” suggested Violet, rubbing her son’s back comfortingly.

“I can’t,” he replied, rubbing his eyes. “It’s for the better.”

—

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madschiavelique · 1 month ago

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A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 13 - Five of Swords

summary : your first day spent in Demacia doesn't bring out the best of you.

content warnings : angst. like pull out the tissues angst. no comfort. also some flirting shit? oh and tension. a good meal overall i hope

word count : 8,2k

author's note : okay so i'm trying to survive classes and i tried writing this baby during the week while on the metro. it's quite a pain in the heart but hey dw it'll get better i promise.

proofread the pretty boy @oneoftheextras

masterlist．．discord ．．playlist．．my ko-fi

The short journey to your place of residence prepared for the students had been deeply unbearable.

Demacians seemed to have a majority of water-related transport. You weren't really surprised, given that Demacia was known for its beaches and its inextricable links with the water that surrounded it for trade and tourism.

However, after that rather short night in a bed that wasn't very pleasant, you would have liked to have had a moment to settle down and enjoy a brief trip in a transport to observe the landscapes.

But walking was unavoidable. A horde of suitcase rollers were catching up on the white flagstones of the streets of the great city of Demacia.

It was almost impossible to imagine the city as anything other than sunny. Its great white walls seemed incorruptibly pure, the sun bathing the sides of the citadel in resplendent light, while its blue slate domes gleamed in the sunlight like fish scales.

You expected the city to have a cold atmosphere, an overly wise and tense staticity brought about by the strictness for which it was famous. But the markets were full of colour, crates full of exotic goods with colour combinations you only thought possible on paintings, rich fabrics and tourist attractions of all kinds bundling up in certain streets.

It was a city that combined the marine fluidity of its airs and waters with the formidable stability of its rocks and swords. It was almost impossible not to find a guard at every turn, to the point where it was almost more oppressive than reassuring. The sight of so many passers-by crossing the streets and their safety, however, softened the sensation.

And although you couldn't wait to take a shower and relax, the desire to wander the streets of this new place grew with every step you took. What a thrill it is to explore.

All this could have been superb, of course, if it hadn't been for a single factor that splashed mud all over this first immersion: Fiora.

Clinging to Viktor like a mussel to its rock, she had never stopped monopolising him and imposing her continuity. She pulled Viktor's suitcase like she was pulling a bin bag, pressing herself against him and laughing much more than necessary at every little interjection he made, often punctuating it with "What an interesting thing to say" or "Vikkie you're so funny!"

Vikkie, the nickname made your skin crawl with embarrassment. But what probably bothered you most was the fact that Viktor didn't do anything in particular to stop it. Was he just being polite? Or did he genuinely enjoy her company?

"Yes, she's always like that," Garen finally added with a sigh, his eyes visibly attentive to where yours were resting.

You sighed. "How long have you been handling her?"

He chuckled. "I think we're about to hit the second year in a row of a dreadfully thorny situation."

"Two years," you huffed, imagining what it would have been like if you and Viktor had carried on with that litter of stupid nemeses for so long.

"Yes ma'am," Garen nodded, himself seeming slightly surprised by this realisation.

"And has it always been like this?"

"It gets worse when new things arrive and she wants said new things," he informed. "She needs to have her hands on the new, shiny toy."

"Is she a princess?" you questioned.

"Akin," Garen's gaze rested tiredly on Fiora's figure, raising his eyebrows, "she is the heir to one of the biggest families of Demacia."

"Damn," you whispered. "And she bites, I take it?"

"She is a fierce duellist, best one around here," grimaced Garen. "I wouldn't advise making any waves or tormenting her, she has a tendency to start useless gossip behind your back."

You nodded, taking in the information Garen had so graciously given you. "Crowns have strange effects on the heads they adorn."

He nodded, obviously finding your words accurate.

It didn't take you long to arrive at a building of at least six storeys, seemingly the same length as the point separating Zaun from Piltover and as wide as the length of The Young Prince.

What had struck you so far was the geometry of the city. All the architecture of its streets was millimetre-perfect, everything mirroring each other almost impossibly perfectly like a surface on clear water. Arches of white stone criss-crossed in the air, no pillar was odd, and even the clothes of the residents were surgically symmetrical. It was almost disconcerting.

"The Hôtel Félixérie has graciously approved your accommodation as part of your stay," informed Madame Diane, turning to the group of students. "We'll leave you to drop off your belongings and take a moment to relax and get to know your room-mates a little better."

You'd imagined that the dormitories would be paired up again, and you'd probably expected the Piltover students to be with each other once more. However, Diane interrupted this train of thought.

"For fairly obvious reasons, the rooms will not be mixed. If your duos involve sex and gender differences, we will assign you to different rooms."

Their restrictions were totally acceptable, however, if the little gears in your brain weren't wrong, a terrible revelation took over.

You would have to share your room with Fiora.

You turned towards her, the latter already looking at you like a vermin to be eradicated, or the most useless thing this earth could have borne.

"Come forward, so we can allocate your rooms and take it into consideration."

So the group of students moved towards the teachers, your quartet staying back, Garen following to collect your room numbers. You reached Fiora, who was about your height, if perhaps a little shorter - which didn't stop her looking down on you for anything in the world.

So you watched her stature, her arm still firmly wrapped around Viktor.

You chuckled, observing the situation. "Are you going to sleep with him like he's your teddy bear? Or are you big enough to sleep without one."

Viktor turned to you, half surprised and half grateful. She arched an eyebrow at you, blowing out a laugh from her nose. "Scared of a child?"

"I'm not as spoiled of a kid as you," you replied.

"What is the ugly little thing saying?" she questioned.

"She's saying that you've got looks, and money," you remarked, "one of them is bound to run out."

She gave you a petty little smile. "Guess I'm rich in all cases. I still have twice more than you own."

"And twice more to lose," you pointed out, frowning, "and I don't lose."

She giggled, her upper lip rising in frustration. "So confident."

Your eyes looked her up and down, two thin slits under your eyebrows. "So ignorant."

"Viktor?" inquired Garen to cut short this obviously mindless discussion once he'd come back. "We're sharing the same room, do you need help with your belongings?"

The Zaunite's suitcase was still in Fiora's hand. She said nothing, ignoring you as she straightened her chin and let go of Viktor's arm as well as his luggage, exchanging a glance with Garen who seemed impassive to her attitude.

Viktor exchanged glances with you and then Garen. "No need," he confirmed politely.

"Alright," smiled Garen, turning to your little group, "we're all on the ground floor. Room 020 for Viktor and me, room 021 for you two,’ he explained as he handed you your keys, Fiora not even unlocking her arms from her chest to take the ones Garen was handing her.

"As if I was to share my room with someone like you," Fiora almost choked out.

"At least something we agree on," you breathed before pulling your suitcase towards the building.

You had only one thing on your mind: taking a shower and putting on clean clothes. Demacia had a warmer climate than Piltover, and although the sun wasn't high in the sky, the air was already hot, and your walk to the hotel didn't help the feeling.

The interior of the hotel was charming, managing to bring warmth to its ambience despite its cold bluish tones. It didn't take you long to find your room, shoving the key into the lock more hastily than you would have liked.

You pulled your suitcase onto a tiled floor with hexagonal stones alternating royal blue and creamy white, two thick beds next to each other already making you regret coming here just from the perspective of who would take the second one. You placed your suitcase on the side of the bed you'd settled on taking, removing your coat, which was already far too warm for your back and shoulders.

There was a knock at the door, and you turned to see Garen, his stature taking up almost all the light in the corridor in the silhouette of the door.

"Got the word from Madame Lolanthe," he began, "the Piltover students get a one hour break in their rooms before we come back to get you ready for the Academy visit."

"Okay," you nodded, getting rid of your scarf, "thank you for telling me."

"No problem," he smiled, leaning against the doorway, "You hold up to her well."

"Hold up to her?" you repeated, almost confused.

"That talk about the looks, and the money," he noted, "I know who's words I'll repeat whenever she gets on my nerves again."

You smiled. "One will buy you sympathy, the other will buy you the rest. Unfortunate that with her great wealth she can't buy me," you sighed, folding your scarf to lay it on the corner of your bed. "She doesn't seem to like it very much."

He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's because she's never had someone come on her territory and impose themselves so easily."

You arched an eyebrow, a small sneer tugging at the corner of your lips. "I'm imposing?"

He chuckled. "To her? She won't ever admit it, but you're terrifying."

"And to you?" you questioned, "Am I any threat to the sublime of a Demacian student like you?"

He considered you for a moment. "That remains to be seen."

You smiled at him one more time, placing your suitcase on your bed to open it.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to engage in verbal fencing with you. So far at least you've given me no reason to do so," you explained as you took out your toiletries.

"I shall do everything in my power for it to remain as such," he confirmed, placing his hand on his chest solemnly and bowing his head slightly. "I'll leave you to your rest, see you in an hour."

"See you in an hour," you repeated simply as he disappeared from the doorway.

He reminded you of Jayce, but wiser, more chivalrous than naive, more observant than questioning.

So you finally grabbed some new clothes and headed for the second room in your bedroom, which was undoubtedly the bathroom. Were you all so stinky that the Demacians urged you to shower at all costs? It would have been funny, an unnecessary rivalry in a programme that encouraged the exact opposite.

The bathroom was an elegant composition of blue, white and pearly grey mosaics. Two wash basins carved from rough white stone stood next to each other in front of a large oval horizontal mirror. In the corner to your left was the toilet, and in the corner to your right was the ivory-white bathtub.

You were almost tempted to pick up your suitcase and put it in the bathroom with you while you showered, just to make sure that the bratty Fiora didn't come poking around in it or doing anything stupid.

After all, in your belongings was an object that could potentially get you into a lot of trouble here if it were found: your tarot deck.

Demacia's little worry in this instance was a deep-seated aversion to magic and all that surrounds it. Who wouldn't be when the history of its people was rooted in magical wars and the terror that ensued? Petricite, the material from which their protection came from the trees of their forests, was undoubtedly in abundance in the walls surrounding you. It was almost oppressive, as if the air were less breathable, more contained than ever in a box.

You stripped off your clothes and slipped under the water, which must also have been filtered specifically for petricite. It seemed almost dry, leaving an unpleasantly light sensation on your skin as you soaped yourself up almost furiously.

Your thoughts returned to your Tarot deck. You just hoped that the energies wouldn't affect it, and that you wouldn't be caught red-handed. You would have to be discreet about this activity, however naive, to avoid any lightning strikes.

You took your time to prepare yourself. You put on some simple clothes for the rest of the day, something comfortable enough to move around in and not suffer from the heat, and rearranged your suitcase, making sure you looked perfectly presentable.

You left your room after slipping your suitcase under your bed, knocking on the door of your comrade to whom you hadn't been able to speak since you set foot on Demacian soil.

"Come in," answered the familiar accent behind the door.

You turned the handle, opening the door to find Viktor sitting on one of the two beds. He seemed to be busy placing a particular mechanism on his bad leg, a strap running from his lower thigh to the sole of his shoe. He was bent over, arranging a sort of screw-on part on the side of his knee.

The system seemed to be complex, an orthopaedic support made of metal and leather for better stability, no doubt, in the same way that corsets were worn for scoliosis.

You'd never seen him wear it before.

"Is it in preparation for the walk we're about to go on?" you questioned.

He sighed heavily, rearranging a belt against his thigh and trying to smooth the creases in his trousers under the pressure. "Mademoiselle Laurent's brisk walk doesn't seem to have been very kind," he raised his amber gaze to yours, "I fear the upcoming days might be more difficult than what I expected."

You sighed, taking a step forward into the bedroom. "Yeah," you nodded, "not sure how I will handle the whole Fiora thing... At least Garen's nice so far."

His eyes moved from yours to his thigh again, tightening another bolt. "Mhm."

"You guys got cool rooms!" Jayce's voice made you turn towards him, coming from the other end of the corridor, poking his head through the doorways. "Ours is all..." he grimaced, his eyes crinkling as his upper lip lifted to the side, "green."

"Got something against the green of nature, Talis?" you remarked, arching an eyebrow.

"Absolutely not!" he snapped, raising his hands in the air to clear his throat. "It's just that ours is... ugly."

"Do you miss the gold of Piltover already?"

"A bit."

"Have the Kirammans changed you so much? Unless... has Mel got you used to luxury?"

"I-" he almost choked, but before he could pull himself together and resume his sentence, he frowned, mouth open. His eyes flicked to a point in the void before turning to Viktor, with whom he exchanged a glance. "Do you think what she thinks?"

Viktor breathed in, holding his breath for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and sighing in agreement. Jayce looked like he'd been punched in the stomach.

"Am I... a high-class hooker?"

You grinned, putting your hand on his shoulder and patting it. "I think there are worse realisations in life than this."

"True, but... how do you know for sure."

"It's not a wildly complex diagnosis," Viktor remarked as he grabbed his cane and straightened up. "First the bottles of champagne with more than one zero."

"Then the petits fours," you pointed out.

"And the new shirts piling up in the dressing room..." Viktor continued.

"Fine!" stopped Jayce. ‘Fine, I see your point,’ he straightened up, trying to puff out his chest as he pretended to deconstruct the image you'd given him, sighing in vain as he watched you with plaintive eyes, "this is so bad isn't it?"

"It's the end of the world," you grinned.

Viktor shook his head, playing disappointment. "What happened to my work partner?"

"Hey!" squeaked Jayce.

Viktor turned to you. "Did you know he leaves the apartments three nights out of four to go see Mel?"

"What?" Your mouth opened in a terrible mock shock as you put your hand to your chest comically, "that's heartbreaking."

"I know," sighed Viktor dramatically, "I end up starring at the pile of his new shirts in the corner while I kill myself on work."

"Jayce," you huffed, "how could you?"

"Stop this! You two!" begged Jayce.

You finally smiled and gave up the act. "Relax, gold suits you anyway."

"You guys are the worst," grumbled Jayce as you and Viktor exchanged playful glances.

You headed out of the hotel, meeting up with Sky who instantly came over to you.

"That Fiora's already got you in her sights," she muttered.

You sighed, looking around as if to see if she was spying on you, but if she was, she wasn't within earshot. "I know, it's like I'm attracting them all like a magnet. Let's hope it doesn't last any longer than that, otherwise this trip may quickly be robbed of its holiday quality."

When the rest hour came to an end, Madame Diane finally showed up again an exact hour as the time she had left you. Their organisation was finely measured, timed and unforgivable.

Fiora couldn't help but regain her position as the cling-on next to Viktor.

"Pulled out your fanciest shoes for me?" she giggled as her eyes roamed Viktor's aid.

He sighed, "If I have to keep up with you, this is more than needed."

She gave you a dark look, though it was different from the one she'd previously thrown at you so far. There was a sort of flash of malice, an unpleasant aspect of that of a chess player with a sick and evil strategy.

You took no further notice as the walk to the Demacian Academy began.

You passed various buildings, Diane telling you a few little facts about the history of the streets and specific places. Jayce made comments here and there.

"How do they build such edifices?" he asked, amazed by the city's architecture and its intricacies.

"By piling stones on top of each other," you replied, Garen smiling beside you, your eyes witnessing Viktor's cheekbones rising at your remark from your view of his back.

You finally reached the Demacia Academy. Its campus formed a pile of wings of buildings of varying sizes and architecture.

"Each study environment," as Madame Diane pointed out as you walked through the Academy's gardens, "is separated into its own buildings. We are privileged and proud to be able to welcome all kinds of cultures and knowledge within our walls. Humanities, Engineering, Art, all forms of wisdom are welcomed without any hierarchy."

Your eyes roamed over the bluish domed roofs, wondering if from the inside these same tiles covered all the light or if their material was transparent like sunglasses.

"A single point joins the students who wish it," she raised her long index finger in the air, pointing to the sky as if the almighty sky bequeathed to her every truth about the globe.

Garen pressed his palm against your shoulder, your eyes resting on it as he whispered into your ear.

"See over there?" the index finger of his hand on your shoulder, seemingly engulfing you by its size, pointed in a direction you followed.

"Mhm?" you hummed, observing a flat area that wasn't concreted over and seemed to be covered in a long, black, loose carpet.

"That's the training area," his warm breath brushed against your ear, "me and Fiora meet there every morning."

"We want our students to stay healthy and to help each other," Diane recited aloud.

Garen huffed, continuing to murmur. "If you'd like to see her lose eventually, this is where the show's at."

"Lose?" you repeated in a whisper, your eyes drifting to Fiora next to Viktor, who just seemed to have turned his head away.

"Mhm," said Garen before straightening up and letting go of your shoulder, "I've heard that it's something you don't do."

You smiled, a little laughy breath escaping from your lungs.

"Thus, we have a training area dedicated to this," Diane continued, "our students can go there whenever they like, it's a free field. Now, if you don't mind, we're going to continue..."

But you could barely register another sentence at the moment, your eyebrows furrowing as you began to move forward with the rest of the group.

One thought remained in your mind, however. Something that had struck you suddenly, something that surprised you more than you would have thought: not a shiver had been born under Garen's breath on your skin.

It was strange, not a single hair standing on end, no heat rising to your cheeks. Nothing.

It was only when the memory of Viktor's breath hit the back of your neck that it began to heat up.

You tried to pull yourself together, to ignore this information, and to ignore the warm sensation in your stomach as your eyes found Viktor's combed brown locks.

It's probably nothing,’ you tried to convince yourself.

The rest of the day passed pleasantly, exploring the library and some of the historic sites on campus. You had eaten in a charming restaurant near the hotel, while the Demacian students returned to their cafeterias and afternoon classes and Heimerdinger gave you a lesson on Demacia. He had preferred to postpone his lessons on Demacia to save them for the trip, for a better immersion and to truly submerge you in his lessons.

Fiora was glued to Viktor like a leech, as if when he let go of her arm he was going to fall face first onto the pavement. She kept sending you these petty little smiles, and you kept giving her a deeply neutral expression.

The night came earlier than expected, and you dreaded the idea of having to share this room, which was supposed to be so pure and perfect, with an oddball like her.

You were already strangely regretting the night you'd spent with Viktor. Admittedly, you hadn't always had the best of times when you were forced into close proximity, but that didn't detract from the fact that you had common ground and mutual respect.

Up until now, Fiora hadn't earned your respect.

And to your surprise, as the hours passed and you read in bed, she never came.

Many thoughts raced through your mind, tirelessly changing subjects and possibilities.

Was she with Viktor? you wondered.

No, Garen and Viktor went to bed together.

So where is the viper? Perhaps it's in its burrow, at home in who knows which grand Demacian mansion, in a bed with silk sheets and canopied curtains. Madame's sleep must not be damaged or altered in any way.

And that breath on your skin, that hadn't done anything to you? Why did it?

Sleep overtook you quickly though, overpowering your fiery spirit, Demacia's jet lag catching up with you faster than you thought possible.

When you awoke, it was early enough in the morning that the horizon was still a gradation of night leading towards the bright pearl of the sun. Your eyes found Fiora's bed empty and perfectly tucked in just as you had found it.

You took advantage of the fact that the city was still a little asleep to get out your tarot deck. You knocked on both sides, hoping to release whatever energy the petricite could have brought.

You performed your usual little ritual, and the card of the day turned out to be the five of swords. The little booklet provided you with the following information:

Cruelty. Think about your actions and words. False accusations. Cowardice. Inflated ego at the expense of others. Taking advantage of others.

This is a warning card that reminds you of the power of your words and actions. An argument has ended and there is a winner, a loser, and a mediator. Who do you identify with on this card? Which character represents you at this precise moment? If you don't recognise yourself in this card, who or what does it remind you of? What lessons can you learn from this image?

You were sighing, an argument? It was probably because of yesterday with Fiora, because of what you had to learn from it.

So you got ready for the day, looking forward to meeting Garen on that famous training area. You had discussed the time at which him and the pretentious one would meet, deciding to join them a little later to let them do their training but above all to go there with a small group of students who intended to visit more of the university with their Demacian duos.

The days were to be split in two. In the morning, the Demacian students would be in class, while the Piltovian students would have their history lessons with Heimerdinger. The afternoons would be devoted to visiting Demacia, its monuments, museums and so on.

So you went to the hotel restaurant for breakfast. There you met Viktor and Jayce, sharing their table. You helped yourself to the buffet in this luxury self-service restaurant before coming over to them.

"Good morning," greeted Viktor, sipping his coffee as his eyes were riveted on what appeared to be the local newspaper.

"Morning," you replied as you sat down at their table.

"You know," Jayce began with his mouth full, "I'm not usually a fan of switching foods but," he twitched his nose as he chewed energetically, "I gotta hand it to them, it's really good."

"You would eat flowers if they were edible," you remarked before bringing your own breakfast to your lips, nodding at the taste, though.

"Ah ha! See?" Jayce remarked at your expression.

You shrugged. "Not bad."

Actually, what you were chewing was delicious, but it wasn't hard to reach that level given your diet of mostly simple pasta and stir-fry in your flat.

"Come on," Jayce tried, turning to Viktor, "their coffee's good too."

The questioned man abandoned his reading of the newspaper, taking in hand a pastry covered in icing sugar. "I'll admit that it's not bad."

"Not bad?" you remarked, arching an eyebrow. "Better than mine?"

He chuckled. "Not possible."

You nodded. "Huh, I guess I'll just have to check for myself," you remarked, pressing your palm against the table as you prepared to get up and help yourself to the drink area.

"You can just drink from mine," suggested Viktor.

The pressure of your weight on your palm eased, turning your head towards him. "From yours?"

He watched you for a moment, then picked up his cup and placed it in front of you. "I don't know if I'll be able to finish it in one go," his back found the back of the seat, "so, we can share."

You considered the mug for a moment, observing the ring of foam that had dried and marked the inside of the cup, waiting to be drunk. It seemed sweet, like what Viktor used to drink.

You curled your fingers around its handle, the round, slightly flattened cup feeling pleasantly heavy in your hand. You brought it to your lips, blowing gently on its contents and noticing the previous mark of the sip Viktor had taken.

Your glance met his, moving from your mouth to your eyes, your lips resting where his had been moments before, before you took a sip without your gaze ever leaving each other's.

His jaw seemed to tense for a moment as your tongue passed over your lower lip to catch the last few drops of coffee before placing the cup back on the table.

You nodded, raising your eyebrows. "Not bad."

Viktor's amber eyes had a strange blackness in them, pierced by a dark glint you couldn't make out that brought more warmth to your cheeks and neck than the coffee.

"I told you!" Jayce exclaimed, bringing you back to reality almost brutally.

What was going on? Why was the air suddenly so thick and tense?

Your eyes lowered to your breakfast, taking a small bite as you returned to Viktor gently through your eyelashes. His gaze was still on you, his long, slender fingers wrapping around the waist of the cup and bringing it to his mouth.

His eyes lit up with a strange satisfaction as your lips parted and his came to rest where yours had been only seconds ago.

Your heart leapt in your chest as you engulfed your entire meal in one mouthful, preferring to find an excuse like this to the suffocation you were beginning to feel from the pounding of your heart against your ribs, which were suddenly too narrow to contain it.

Viktor looked at you, as surprised as he was amused by the suddenness of this behaviour.

"You look nervous," Jayce pointed out, "are you alright?"

You met his gaze, your eyes drifting over Viktor's for a moment as you swallowed your mouthful with difficulty. Quick, an excuse, or something.

"I'm going to try and train with the Demacian students," you explained.

Jayce's eyebrows rose, Viktor's frowned.

"You're about to try and train with them?" the taller one repeated, wiping the crumbs from his sweet tooth with the back of his hand, "the same students that have a training area and some of the best fighters in all Runeterra?"

You stuffed your mouth with another part of your breakfast, trying to take some strength for what would await. "Yes."

Breakfast continued simply until you finally decided to go to the Academy campus. The sun was higher in the sky, already warm as you made your way to the training ground.

A group of students were occupying various parts of the large area, a variety of wooden weapons clashing against each other in a waltz of energetic movements and grunts.

The small group of Piltovian students approached this area, some coming to meet up with their duet mates, others standing back to observe the scene.

You finally caught sight of Garen, busy at the moment against a mannequin, his stature seeming even more imposing that way. Dressed in a navy blue t-shirt with sweat stains on the collar and back, baggy black trousers and combat boots, he looked perfectly military.

When he met your eyes, he smiled at you, indicating with his fingers that you should come closer. You pointed your index finger at yourself, exchanging glances with Jayce and then Viktor.

"Don't look at me," the latter pointed out, "if I've got any place on this field it's as a training dummy."

You shrugged. "I'm sure you'd make an amazing fencer with your cane," you said before stepping forward when Garen came your way.

You reached him on the pitch, the feel of the ground softer and smoother than you would have thought. No doubt to reduce the damage of falls, which were bound to be numerous around here.

"Good morning," Garen greeted you when you reached him.

"Good morning," you pressed your lips into a thin line. "I think by coming here I've voluntarily signed my death warrant."

"I'm sure you'll do just fine," he confirmed in a soft laugh, starting to move forward.

"Fiora isn't here?" you questioned, anxiously.

"She went ahead to get herself some water, she'll be back soon," he explained.

"Hope she takes her time," you sighed, "I'd like to... try training."

He turned to you in surprise. "Try training?"

"Mhm," you confirmed, "gotta get the full experience of this trip, I guess?"

He chuckled, nodding finally. "Alright, what would you like to try?"

"What's on the menu for bruises and sore muscles today?"

"Hmm," he glanced at the few remaining wooden weapons, "let us try with a staff."

Your eyes followed his gaze, settling on one of the weapon bearers. A row of quarterstaffs was there, waiting to be retrieved.

Fighting with wands, the joke was almost ridiculously simple if you thought back to the five of wands.

He picked one up, throwing it at you as you caught it in the air.

"Good reflexes," he remarked as he took one in turn, "it's going to be needed." He twirled the staff in his hand with ease, positioning himself in front of you. "Show me what you know."

You had distant memories of using a staff, of parrying, of attacking, even if you weren't an expert and wasn’t sure about your capacity on bringing them back to life.

You had to get it into your head that you weren't there to win, but to learn, to take in new information and rediscover what it meant to learn through interest rather than obligation.

You described a swing in the air, the wood hissing as Garen easily parried the blow, coming into your game. All he had to do was push a little harder against you so that the pressure made you tilt your balance and he took advantage of it to try a blow that you still managed to parry before stepping back and almost losing your balance.

"You're smaller than me, and probably faster," commented Garen, "use it to your advantage."

"How am I supposed to do that?" you questioned, tightening your grip around your staff in the hope that your muscle memory would do the job.

Garen repositioned himself, smiling slightly. "Surprise me."

You chuckled, tapping the tip of your stick on the ground twice before repositioning yourself, bending your knees and tensing your shoulders.

You trotted towards him a little, raising your staff in the air before deviating and giving a kick with your foot on his at the last moment to shift the balance. His grip was firmer on it than you thought, but the blow was enough to divert his attention to the gesture and you drove your stick into his foot, causing him to grunt as you tried to go around him to hit the back of his knees.

Realising your trick though, he changed his stance, pivoting towards you and swinging an arc through the air that you stepped back from in time, dodging his next blow by placing your palm on his staff to squeeze it and pull it towards you to bring him down.

But his weight of muscle won out over yours, so he used your initial idea to his advantage by pulling you towards him until your back was against his chest and he was holding his staff under your chin.

You felt his warm chest under the fabric of his T-shirt, his chest expanding and sinking against you as you felt the wood of his staff push your chin up until your eyes met his. He huffed, cracking a smile.

"You did good," he breathed, cracking a smile before the grip on your chin eased and he released you.

You took a step forward, turning to face him. "Just good?"

"Not satisfied with good?" he pointed out.

"No," you chuckled as you grabbed your staff with both hands, ready to attack again.

He smiled, changing position again. "Then do better, Piltie girl."

"Would you look at that?"

Your eyes rolled heavenward as you recognised this insufferable voice and turned to Fiora.

She was wearing a uniform similar to that of Garen. A dark plum turtleneck t-shirt with short sleeves, trousers less wide than Garen's, and perfectly polished boots.

She was equipped with her most mocking smile. "How did you end up here?"

You shrugged, letting one hand fall away from the staff before your arm dropped to your side. "I thought I'd come here for a holiday camp, but too bad the activities and organisers aren't great."

She giggled, her eyebrows arching as she turned to the remaining staff to pick one up. Some students stopped practising, observing the scene. Fiora undoubtedly had her own little reputation which she maintained proudly, and to see someone standing up to her must have been a novelty for many.

"Let's see what you're made of," she said, putting herself on guard against you.

You sighed. "I don't want to fight you," you remarked as you moved towards the receptacle to lay down your weapon.

But she prevented you from doing so by sending it flying further away from a single hit. You glared at her.

Her smile was evil, her eyebrows low over vicious eyes. "You're gonna have to pick it up if you want to put it back there."

"Fiora," Garen warned, "stop."

"It's fine," you assured him, watching Fiora's face change between satisfaction and impatience.

You knew she was trying to push you, to build up your frustration to get a reaction out of you. You didn't want to give her the pleasure.

You breathed a sigh, walking over to the staff on the ground before picking it up. But as you turned, you barely had time to reflexively place the staff in front of your face as a parry.

Fiora had just tried to attack you, and violently at that.

"Fight," she insisted as you took a step backwards. "Don't they teach you how to fight in Piltover?"

You huffed, trying to get round her as she circled after you like a predator around its prey. "Guess we swapped war for intellect," you pointed out, feeling more in the mood for a verbal joust than a physical one, "I can see how the lack of it is visibly affecting you."

Fiora frowned, pointing the end of her staff at you. "What did you just say?"

You smiled, getting caught up in the game. "Do I have to repeat it for you? Or break it down into digestible pieces for your little brain?"

She grunted before drawing rapid attacks in the air that you managed to parry and avoid until you crossed the wood and found yourselves close.

"You are so lacking in intelligence that neither education nor experience has helped you to fill this gap in your nature," you taught her.

She punched you in the stomach before hitting you in the thigh with her staff, forcing you to your knees. You felt the tip of her staff under your chin, firm and raw as she looked down at you.

"Look at who's kneeling before me," she sneered as she exchanged smiles with the surrounding students.

You didn't let her get to you though. "Simply tying my shoes, your majesty."

The nickname seemed to irritate her in a less visible way than the others, but you could still make out the little muscle near her eye tense up.

She offered a simple blow of her nose in laughter, leaving you on the ground as her stick dislodged itself from your chin.

She then turned to her audience, rounding on you. ‘What a fierce little thing she is, isn't she?’ she quizzed.

You turned towards her, straightening up as you frowned.

"By your words I believe you called me ignorant, so I did a bit of digging." She wore a smile that was about to cause some serious errors. "You will be surprised to learn that," she turned to you with a wicked smile, "she's an orphan."

Your lips parted as your chest began to tighten in anger, the other students around you all glaring at you like a freak show.

"No one ever wanted her," Fiora went on as if she were presenting a tragic two-bit story, "until she got taken in by pity."

You wanted to rip her tongue out. How could she know? How dare she put it out there for everyone to see?

She hovered around you, addressing her audience to paint a pitiful picture.

"Got a failure? Get another for half the price!" She sneered as she described dramatic gestures of demonstration, calming down on the theatrical though as she turned back to you, eyes half-closed with pretense and pointing at you with her staff. "So now," she resumed, tone condescending, "she tries to remove that tag off herself by being first everywhere!" She turned to the other pupils as if they were little children learning a lesson.

Your knuckles had turned white from squeezing your fists so tight, your breathing quickening as your anger built.

She turned to face you. "As if that was going to change her nature."

"That's enough!" Garen growled as he approached her.

"What's wrong? I am simply stating facts," Fiora pointed out falsely, innocently.

Their conversation faded from your mind, however, as your frustration rose inside you.

Who was it? Who was it that could have given her this information?

There were only three people who knew about this matter. Only three. Jayce, Sky...

And Viktor.

Viktor, who had spent his time in Fiora's company, who was always glued to his arm, who had had to give in to the fatigue and frustration of her questions by answering her about you while she was scheming against you.

There was only him.

Your body seemed to you like a suit of armour in a garden of white statues of purity, where the ruby-red roses of anger were allowed to overtake the metal covering your rage.

Clad in armour.

Ready.

"You said you wanted to fight?"

Your voice echoed through the air louder than you could have imagined, but loud enough that all heads turned towards you. Fiora smiled, having finally achieved her goal.

"You've changed your mind?"

"Yes." Your tone was firm, rigid.

"That is most delightful to hear," Fiora smiled, turning to her audience and raising her arms before regaining your gaze, "I'll even do you the honour of choosing your weapon."

"No weapons."

Your whole body tensed, your fingers twitching as your muscles seemed to prepare themselves for what was about to happen.

Fiora raised her eyebrows. "Fists? How barbaric.’

"Scared your fancy manicure can't handle it?"

It was asking everything in your power not to let your voice explode in the air, to remain calm and articulate.

All the same, Fiora seemed fascinated by your determination to continue to stand up to her, to refuse to give up, to abandon in the face of her.

"Careful Fiora," shouted one of the students, "I've heard she's a witch."

Had she finally infiltrated your room? Looked through your things while you were asleep? Or had she managed to hear about Selene and had already started to do her viper's work of spreading rumours? Either way, she was already on to you.

"Glad to know we're on the right territory to get rid of this kind of waste," smiled Fiora.

"You can't beat me," you put the staff back in its receptacle, moving away again to get ready, "only one person gets to have that honour."

Your eyes landed on Viktor, who was watching the scene with furrowed brows.

You readied your breath, stopping your heart from getting too big in your chest as your legs prepared to hold your balance.

"So eager," Fiora sighed with a stupid grin, stepping forward to place her staff, "I didn't know you would-"

But as soon as the staff was placed, your knuckles made hard contact with her cheek, sending her to the ground.

A wave of shocked murmurs took over the crowd as you stood, eyes lowered on Fiora as she leaned back to straighten herself on the floor, her perfectly smooth fringes slightly dishevelled revealing her wide eyes as she brought her palm to her cheek still warm from the blow.

"Get up," your voice was cold, trying to remain unwavering while your fist trembled. "You said you wanted a fight, so," your lips were full of rage, "fight."

Fiora snarled, springing to her feet and running at you with the breath of a bull seeing red. She tried to land a blow on your face to return the favour, but you dodged it and punched her in the stomach, her curling up as you grabbed her hair and she started screaming.

"You fucking bitch!" she cried.

She slapped you on the shoulder and you let go, throat rocky with wrath. "Yell at me again and I'll give you a proper reason to scream."

There was a dangerous growl in your voice, a grinding of a gear powering an old machine that was starting up again.

She came back at you, landing a blow on your leg in the hope of making you kneel again, but she was only marginally successful. She hit you in the jaw, causing you to back away slightly, before delivering a second blow to the cheekbone.

You didn't give her the honour of adding a third strike, offering her a violent punch in the throat that took her backwards as you took a slight leap and slammed your hand hard into her face, her grabbing your clothes and dragging you backwards as she fell.

Sitting on her abdomen, your two knees blocked her arms as you gained free reign over her guard.

You hit her once, twice, thrice, her cheek beginning to swell. Your blows increased in intensity, the tension in your fist not stopping you even if the bones in your hand broke.

"Stop this!"

Two thick arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you out with difficulty as you struggled in vain.

Garen pulled you away from the body of Fiora, who had turned to spit a cloud of bloody spray onto the floor. Your eyes never let go of her, as if you were obsessed with your real aim of seeing her admit defeat.

"You," you snapped at her, regaining some calmness though, "you're the one that started spreading gossip about me behind my back aren't you?"

Fiora turned to you, breathless. "What?" Her voice was hoarse from your blow.

"Don't make me repeat myself," you threatened, fully aware that you hadn't hit any of her eardrums and that she could understand you perfectly well.

She breathed heavily. "Why does it matter?"

You approached slightly, fists still clenched as you watched her on the floor, pathetic.

"Just wanted to make sure you knew your place."

Fiora shook off the hands of the students who had just tried to help her off ofto the floor, her furious eyes finding you as she struggled to get to her feet.

You realised the extent of the damage your fury, your uncontrollable anger, had done. Fiora's face was red, one of her eyelids bulging as blood poured from her nose, joining the red on her lips and gums.

You could have gone on, made things worse. Who knows how far you could have gone? What irreversible damage you could have caused? What life you could have taken in your own anger?

The realisation hit you like an anvil.

Your eyes roamed the crowd, the faces of the frightened students.

I... I did this? you thought.

I made them look at me with... fear?

Your eyes found Fiora still on the ground, grunting in pain and coughing.

Monster.

That's all you were. A being incapable of overcoming the violence that had nourished her, of abandoning the bosom of this bitter mother who had cuddled her so much and made her grow.

Your gaze wandered over the rest of the pupils, until it met his.

Viktor's face was shocked.

No, please...

His lips were parted and his eyes wide as you felt your hands impossibly sticky with the hot blood they had spilled.

Please, don't look at me like that... Your heart was trembling.

Not you.

You had to get out of here.

Hands clasped to your sides, you strode across the pitch, the few students even two metres away from you moving away as you passed.

I made them like this. Although this thought might have given some people a feeling of pride and power, you couldn't help but feel covered in a terrible shame.

You couldn't meet anyone's eyes as you made your way to the nearest water source, away from any eyes.

You turned the crank on a fountain to turn it on, your breath quickening with anxiety.

I have to get this off me.

You ran your hands frantically under the water, rubbing the reddened skin of your knuckles and trying to get rid of the blood that was already starting to dry.

You returned to the handle as the water subsided, your hand coming into contact with the blood you'd left behind when you turned it the first time.

You make everything dirty. Everywhere you go there will be blood if you go on.

You swallowed a sob as you tried to clean the crank and your hands again.

But nothing would wash the feeling away. Nothing could extinguish the fire still burning in your fingertips. Nothing could make you forget the warm, slimy sensation of the pain you'd committed, of the violence at the edge of your skin.

It's what you're made of.

You sat against the wall, banging both wet fists against your skull as if that would stop those thoughts from ruling your mind.

And he'd seen you. He saw you like this. Your violence coming to life before his eyes, reflected in an indecipherable Iris.

You put your head between your knees, tried to take a deep breath before you got up, your legs weak and trembling as you made your way back to the hotel.

Stupid, stupid crown.

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casualhedonists · 1 year ago

Text

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter three)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

chapter: 3/? (MASTERLIST)

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, power play, oral sex, thigh riding, degradation, dirty talk, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here (and pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

taglist: if you’d like to be tagged, leave a comment on the masterlist post and i’ll add you! 💌

a/n: thank you for your patience and condolences / kind messages over the past week i’ve been awol. i’m very happy to be back. very long, filthy and much awaited chapter ahead, so strap in and hope you enjoy the ride.

in the words of miss zegler herself: oh we are so back.

You weren’t sure how long he stared at you, smiling with a fire in his eyes that rivalled yours until it was eclipsed. A third and final time, you found yourself speechless, dumbstruck, and one final time, much like the others, you took a few shaky steps backwards, before turning and fleeing.

He knew. He’d known this whole time. How long had he been planning this? Exactly how much of this had been an act, with Snow puppeteering you as you slowly lost your mind?

You almost felt pity for the girl, because she was played just like you were. She was a mere pawn in his game of chess, where he’d toyed with you until you were backed into a corner, unable to make a move.

Well, not this time. Now you knew what he was playing, you were ready to up your game. This wouldn’t be another stalemate; you wanted to win, and you had a few ideas of where to start.

You were already up and dressed when you heard a knock at your door the next morning.

Dreading the worst – despite the fact that Snow had never actually been in your room before, but the rules had changed now and you weren’t sure quite how much – you paused for a second to prepare yourself, praying that he wouldn’t be there, ready to put a stop to your plans before they’d even started.

You fell lucky. It was one of Snow’s footmen, George.

“Good morning, ma’am. I, um.” He swallowed, not meeting your eye. “I have a message from Master Snow. He’d like for you to meet him for breakfast in a half hour, if you will. He says you have something… quite important to discuss.”

Typical Snow. Never liked to get his hands dirty. Too proud to knock at your door himself.

You considered.

“George, could you please tell Coriolanus that if I’ve already eaten, and that I’ll come to him when I see fit. If he isn’t satisfied,” you added, for his sake, as you knew Snow wasn’t above killing the messenger, “Say I have an urgent matter to tend to, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

You grew a lump in your throat from your refusal, fearing the consequences. But you’d set your plan into motion now and there was no going back. Once George had been sent on his way, you snuck down the stairs on the far end of the building and slipped out the door through the servants’ quarters, where you knew Snow wouldn’t see you leave. The one upside to the last few weeks was that you’d learned how to sneak around the manor unnoticed. You were certain there were at least three hallways he’d had never even set foot in.

You had Lucille call Henry – Snow’s driver – in advance so you could leave right away.

“Where are we going, ma’am?” He glanced at you over his shoulder as you slid into the black town car.

“Head into the city. I’ll explain on the way.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Henry took some convincing – and some light bribing – to finally cave and tell you what and where this gentleman’s club was. Of course, it was a risk, a roll of the dice to go there without concrete proof, but you knew Snow. You knew his little neuroses and hang-ups, and he was paranoid; in all senses, it would seem, except when it came to you. If he’d been frequenting this club for some time – some years, according to Henry – and trusted their discretion, then you highly doubted he’d play Russian roulette and pick somewhere else.

You were dropped off outside, and sent Henry to the tailor to pick up some of Snow’s things; an excuse for the outing, but a part of your plan too. He was hesitant to leave you alone in such a place, but you insisted you knew exactly how to handle yourself, and so he gave in.

You’d deliberately dressed down for what you were about to do, worn your old coat and let your hair down with a hood pulled over it. It being daytime, the place was closed for business, but you knocked on the front door expectantly.

You waited. Went over the plan, and knocked again.

This time, the door opened and a burly man now stood between you and the inside of the brothel. Your curiosity made peek over his shoulder before he cleared his throat.

“Can I help you, miss?”

“Yes. My name is Margaret, sir, I’m a maid at the, uh,” You dropped your voice to a low whisper, “Snow household. I have a message for the owner of this establishment, from my master. Is he here?”

The man cleared his throat and glanced around the nearly empty street, then beckoned you in quickly.

“Anything for Mr Snow, miss. Right this way.”

There was your proof.

The empty club was a classy one, you had to give Snow that. The bar caught your eye, silver panels lining the wall behind it in an otherwise jet-black glossy room, with dark red couches and shiny tables, booths, single chairs, a stage with shiny metal poles, and a few cordoned-off alcoves.

You took it all in, certain you’d be able to appreciate the aesthetics of it more if it wasn’t for the seething rage inside you. You were stopped at a closed door near the back, and the burly man knocked.

“Yeah.” Came a voice from inside.

“All yours. He’ll take care of you.” Your guide stepped away. You pushed at the door.

A dark-haired man sat facing a desk, poring over paperwork. He didn’t look up.

“If you’re here for a job, sweetie, it’s Tuesday after 11.”

This incensed you.

“I’m not here for work. This is official business. I was told you take care of… special clients.”

He spun around, frowning.

“I’m listening.”

“I have a message from President Snow. He has a series of requests to be carried out with no delay.”

“Ah, yes. Mr Snow. I see. And you are to him?” He prompted.

“Just a maid from the household. He sent me as a messenger.”

“Excellent. Well in that case, of course, miss. How can I be of service?”

You took a breath, hoping desperately that he didn’t see right through you.

“Firstly, the shoes your girl wore.”

“What would he like with them?” He asked.

“He’d like to keep them. He’s willing to pay, and he’s not up for a price negotiation. This should cover them.” You slipped a bill across the table, and he nodded. You learned long ago that money causes loose lips, and this man was no exception.

“Of course,” he obliged, “They’re in the lockers through that door there. I’ll bring them to you. We ordered them in specially for Veronica, he made a point for her to wear them on the first floor. Usually our girls get instructions to sneak through clients’ houses quietly, but we handle every request as thoroughly as possible.” He chuckled.

That fucker. He really had planned it all out to get in your head.

“Was there anything else I can do for you, miss?”

You swallowed thickly.

Here goes.

“Yes, actually. As of today, he’ll no longer be needing your services, or her services. He’d like to terminate your contract, and he doesn’t wish to see her again. Ever.”

The owner blinked. His mouth moved, as if he was about to say something, but then it closed again.

“But, um,” he stammered, “It’s only been three weeks. Veronica is our best girl, and he’s her top client. She carried out his orders to the absolute best of her ability, I can assure you. Are you sure those were his words?”

You sighed.

“She’s getting off lucky with a dismissal. Take it as a warning, sir. President Snow doesn’t show mercy to thieves. If she shows her face again, I can guarantee you, he’ll have her head.”

His face turned plum-red with horror.

“She was… stealing?”

In a way, yes.

“She was caught by a maid last night.” You nodded, and the owner swallowed thickly.

“I – I understand, Miss. I am terribly sorry for this. I apologise that our services weren’t up to your master’s expectations, truly. Please, if there’s anything I can do- and I can assure you, I’ll be having some very stern words-”

You cut him off.

“There is one more thing, as a matter of fact."

"Anything." He pleaded.

"You can send word that… Veronica, is it? She’ll be paying him a visit this evening. But you are not, under any circumstances, to send her. Am I understood?”

He furrowed his brows, puzzled. But you stared back challengingly and held your ground.

A small, sheepish smile formed on his face.

“Much obliged. I can assure you your requests will be carried out with the utmost discretion.”

“Thank you.”

He brought you the heels in a shiny box, and you turned and left.

Henry was waiting outside, and you slid back into the car.

“Get what you needed, ma’am?”

“I certainly did.”

The drive home was your chance to pick up lunch, finetune your plan, and go through the suits you’d had Henry pick up from the tailor.

They looked impeccable – crisp and creaseless, the white shirts brighter than the stars, and the maroon red jackets and waistcoats deeper than blood itself. It was one of these jackets that you chose to take upstairs with you, leaving the rest to be taken up to Snow’s room later, hoping the missing item would go unnoticed.

You retraced your way up the winding stairs of the manor. Luckily, Lucille had informed you Snow had left not long after you that morning, and was expected to be gone until evening. Nonetheless, your paranoia made you glance left, right and left again before every turn. Finally, after an exhaustingly long morning, you were back in the safety of your own room.

But the work was far from finished. You ate quickly, then began getting ready for your discussion with Snow. He hadn’t sent for you again; he was too proud. You took pride in knowing he’d be positively seething at your turning him down that morning. You kept going, showering, teasing your hair, adding a little more makeup than usual – not excessive, but enough to make a difference – then finally wandered the room as you picked your wardrobe for later.

You lay out the heels – which were a little big on you, but would serve their purpose – as well as the jacket you’d stolen, taking the time to run your fingers over the smooth maroon velvet you’d felt only briefly before, when brushing against Snow at public events. You then dug through your underwear drawer, debating between a red lingerie set and a white. You picked the latter; the tones of red would blend in with the jacket and white made more of a statement.

Innocence. If only.

You checked the time. Three hours or so until Coriolanus would be expecting Veronica. You hoped that he would be back by then, and more so, that your performance with the brothel owner had been enough to hold him to his promise of sending word. But if you’d learnt anything from Snow, it was that fear commanded respect, and better yet, obedience. So your doubts were few and far between.

In all honesty, that’s what had drawn you to Snow in the first place. It wasn’t about money; your family had money, more than they knew what to do with. It was the power, the fear. Even the richest man in the world would crumble to the ground with a gun to his head. Power trumps wealth every time, and the enigmatic, newly elected President was by far the most powerful man in Panem.

It was its own kind of thrill, pursuing a man like that. The temptation to get him wrapped around your fingers, ravenous, hungry for power, hungry for him. It all blurred together at this point, the man was like a magnet. You wondered if this thirst for more, always more, was an affliction the two of you shared. Or perhaps, an affliction you’d developed a taste for because of him. And the longer you spent at his side, the louder it began to beat in your chest like a second heart. You wanted to consume it, and let it consume you.

It thrummed in your chest now, adrenaline coursing in your veins. You fidgeted as you waited for the hours to pass, your craving growing with each second. You flicked through a few books; you drafted a letter to your mother. Each tick of the clock bringing you closer to finally taking the one thing you’d wanted since the day you met Coriolanus Snow. It was almost time for your big move.

✩✩✩✩

As enough darkness crept into your room and you stood to light some candles, you heard soft footsteps pass your door.

For a change, you recognised them as Snow’s, even and deliberate. He was home. With half an hour to spare until he’d be expecting his whore.

You jumped at the opportunity to change. Slowly and carefully, you slipped out of your clothes and into the underwear set, until you were clad in crisp white lace, with a matching garter belt as a finishing touch. You slid on Snow’s jacket – which smelled like him, of his cologne – the usual fitted shape it would give Snow now hanging loose and slack around your body, falling to the tops of your thighs. You did up the first button, tracing the neckline that plunged down your chest, leaving very little to the imagination. You slipped into the heels, checked the time, and after scanning yourself over in the mirror, made for the door.

The few worries you had about being seen by the staff were short-lived; the hallway lights were dim as you wobbled in the heels, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. You weren’t sure if Snow had fallen for your plan, but what mattered was that as you turned the corner, there were lights shining from under his bedroom door. He was in there, waiting. By now, it was odd seeing it closed. You tried your best to emulate the sound of the footsteps you’d drilled into your brain, the clicks giving you a sense of power knowing Snow – apprehensive or not – would be in for at least one surprise.

Click. Click. Click.

You considered pausing before barging in, but you didn’t. When you reached the end of the hallway, seconds away from your fate, you reached out a hand, pushed Snow’s door open, and walked right inside.

Snow was there; of course he was. Facing his dresser and away from you, he didn’t flinch at the sound of your arrival. You closed the door behind you, and took a step towards him. Stared at his back, scanning his black dress pants and the white shirt he’d rolled up to his elbows, cufflinks on the table, blonde curls a little unruly as he smoothly poured himself a drink.

This, right here, was where the solid part of your plan ended. It was caution to the wind from here on out, and you could practically taste it, high off the adrenaline; off his presence. And he hadn’t even looked at you yet.

This was the moment of truth.

“Well,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “Look who finally figured it out.”

“Not who you were expecting?”

“She’d never reschedule.” he said simply, turning on his heels, eyes glinting at you. “Figured you were up to something. Drink?”

“Think I’ll pass.”

He approached you, eyes scanning your body, deliberately clad in the skimpiest underwear you owned. You figured this was as good a time as any to unbutton the jacket and let it fall open. It brushed your sides, and you watched him lower his glance, hungrily taking you in for what could quite possibly be the very first time. He wet his lips, took another sip.

There it is.

There was that power you craved, that look that you’d been aching to see in his eyes while he stared at you, and although it was fucked up, you let the pride fill your head with confidence, and stepped forward.

“Now, just where did you get that?” A slight narrowing of his eyes gave him away. At least something you’d done had made an impression.

“Borrowed it. In case I get cold.” You smiled.

“Cute. Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to take things that aren’t yours?”

“Oh, I take whatever I want, Snow.”

You raised your head in defiance. Proud of your voice for not faltering once.

“Clearly. Nice shoes. Borrow those, too?”

“Why, do they look familiar?” you quipped.

“I think we both know the answer to that, doll. Now why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

You sighed, feigning exasperation. A chill crept up your legs but you barely noticed.

“You wanted to talk to me, Coriolanus. Talk.”

“Is that really what you came here for, sweetheart? Dressed like that?” He put his drink down on the dresser, not once looking away from you.

“If this is what it takes to get your attention, Snow, then yes.”

You took another step closer, and the jacket fell further to your sides, more skin slipping out from underneath for him to feast his eyes on.

“I think you know plenty about trying to get my attention. I watched you struggle for weeks.”

“Didn’t think you cared.” You muttered.

He laughed, low, more like a scoff.

“What, your childish attempts at seduction? They were pitiful at best. I’d expect that kind of behaviour from a common whore, not a lady of your standing.”

“Thought you liked whores.” You retorted.

“They’re no fun to live with. And there you were, proving my point.”

Your eyes narrowed, and when you spoke, it was through gritted teeth.

“So what, you had to go and fuck one to prove a point? Mature.”

“Mature?” he glowered, then before you could think, he stormed towards you, grabbing both of your wrists with a hard squeeze. You gasped.

“Mature like you, with your short skirts and your fuck-me eyes, sucking your fingers off at the breakfast table?”

You squirmed. Tried to jolt yourself away but it was no use.

“I didn’t think you-”

“Oh, I noticed.” He said, moving in to corner you, grip tightening until he was walking you backwards across the room as he spoke, never once taking his eyes off you. “And it’s a real shame this couldn’t have been easier for us both, but you just had to start it. So I watched your pathetic little displays, day after day, knowing if you’d behaved better, I would’ve given you exactly what you wanted.”

You fought not to trip over yourself until your legs bumped against the ottoman at the foot of his bed and you caught your breath. His eyes bored into yours and you blinked helplessly. His grip loosened on your wrists. You tried to speak, but your mouth had gone dry.

“If you’d been good,” he continued, voice lowering, “you wouldn’t have played around like that. Good girls don’t whore themselves out to respectable men.”

Your eyes narrowed in defiance as you felt heat start to brew in your stomach.

“Respectable?” You spat, and his grip tightened again, bringing one hand up to trace your jaw, almost pitifully.

“See what I mean? You dig yourself deeper at every turn. Good girls ask nicely, and say please. It didn’t take me long to figure out you had issues with authority. It could’ve been so easy for you, sweetheart. You had plenty of chances. You could’ve asked me very nicely to fuck you, but instead you behaved like a desperate slut for weeks on end. Eventually, I knew there was only one way to shut you up.”

Your ears started to ring and you fought harder to gain composure. He’d never talked to you like this before. And now, all this, all at once, it was almost too much. Goosebumps had long covered your arms and legs, despite the heat inside you burning you up. You were vaguely aware of heat pooling uncomfortably between your legs.

Your breathing was heavy as you stared into him, his hand gripping your chin, and you couldn’t hide it if you tried. He finally backed away, letting you peel yourself from the ottoman. His hungry eyes scanned over you, suit jacket now crumpled at the wrists. You swallowed as you tried to pull yourself together.

“You knew I was watching you. The whole time. Every time. It was… for me.”

He watched you knowingly, raised his eyebrows a little. His lips grew into that smirk, that fucking smirk you knew all too well.

“We were playing the same game, sweetheart. I was just… Better.”

“A little excessive, don’t you think?” Your voice faltered and you cursed how breathy it sounded.

“Oh, on the contrary. It was very entertaining to see you struggle, but I could’ve gone further.” He mused. “I even considered fucking her on your bed.”

Shit.

A thought popped into your head, and a strange smile made its way to your face.

“Aren’t you going to ask me where I got these?” You asked, glancing down.

He frowned for a second; good. You’d thrown him off guard. But he caught up fast.

“The heels? You know, I had her walk right past your door in those so you’d follow her and see just what you were missing?”

If you weren’t so wired with adrenaline, you were pretty sure you’d be tearing up with how desperate you felt. But his words channelled it all into pure anger.

“Fuck you.” You seethed, and he smiled.

“We'll get to that. But go on, I’ll bite. What did you do to her?”

“Let’s just say she deserved much worse than what she got. Maybe you should’ve fucked her on my bed. Would’ve given me a reason to choke the life out of her.”

“You think I’d care?”

“Course not. Knowing you, it’d probably get you off.”

“Which brings us right back to now.” He stared at you, challenging. You laughed again.

“Is this you talking? You’re not very good at it.”

“No, this is me giving you a second chance. The way I see it, you made your move, I made mine. Now, if you’re a good girl, and ask me very nicely to fuck you until that pretty little head of yours gets filled with nothing but empty space, I might consider putting an end to this and giving you what you want. Maybe.” If you thought you’d survive smacking that smug look off his face, you would.

“You want me to ask nicely, Coriolanus?” You closed the gap between the two of you and glanced up at him through your lashes. He looked back at you, and no chill in the world could cool you down from the fire in his eyes.

He stepped away, paced towards the desk chair – the one he’d watched you from last night – then dragged it across the floor, spun it around, and took a seat. Once again, last night felt worlds away now. A lifetime sat between that moment and this one as he made himself comfortable, unbuttoned his collar. As if the room was now a stage, and he was the sole spectator.

“Go on. I’m waiting.”

Cocky bastard.

Another airy laugh escaped you. But you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t exactly where you wanted him. So you played into it.

“You want me to beg you? Say pretty please?” Your voice softened as you slowly stepped towards him, holding his gaze. A passing thought reminded you of your childhood, asking your mother what you’d feel when you first truly fell for someone.

Fireworks. Thousands of them, crackling, hissing, charging the air between the two of you into something heavy. Thick clouds of smoke you could almost taste as you stared into darkened eyes. You paused in front of him, fingers playing with the hem of his suit jacket that brushed against your thighs. Caught your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Take it off.” He ordered.

“Gladly.”

You slipped the jacket off your shoulders, and it fell smoothly into a pile on the floor. You kicked off the heels next, landing haphazardly to the side with a thump. His eyes never leaving you, consuming you.

“Like what you see, Snow?”

He took you in, long and hungry and shameless. Like you were simply there for his entertainment, nothing else. You wondered where along the line he’d lost all his inhibitions, at what moment in his very young life he’d decided to simply stop caring. It should scare you, but it just made you burn warmer. Maybe your wires were a little crossed, too, because it didn’t make you feel cheap.

It made you feel powerful.

You knew you looked good, too; you’d made sure of it. But he was looking at you like you were carved out of solid gold. He didn’t answer, because he didn’t need to.

“Think I like you better when you’re not acting like a dumb slut.”

You hummed, determined and unphased, moving in closer until your legs touched his knees. His words shouldn’t turn you on - nor should not knowing exactly how much he meant them – but they did.

“You like me better when I’m begging, then?” You placed your legs either side of his, straddling him, but still standing, and took his hands in yours. You ran one of them across your lips, brazenly taking a digit in your mouth, releasing it with a wet pop, then dropping your head down.

“You want me to be straightforward, Snow? Tell you exactly what I want?” you breathed, your foreheads almost touching, looking down at him from a thrilling vantage point, your hair falling either side of his face. “To beg you to rip this off me?” You guided his hands to your hips, letting them slide over the lacy fabric. “You want me to beg you to kiss every inch of skin you see and make it yours? Beg you to fuck me until I can’t think, and forget my own name?”

You ran his hands down the sides of your legs, then, inch by inch, letting him take a good long look on the way, you finally lowered yourself onto his lap. Your blown-out eyes met again, at the same level this time. You shifted your hips once, feigning getting comfortable, and hid a smile as he let out a strained sound.

You were close enough to feel his breath against yours, fast but steady, controlled. You moved closer, your head dipping cautiously under his chin to kiss his neck. He smelt clean, like fresh laundry and his cologne, and his skin tasted like salt as your tongue traced a line across it. It felt like power, having him like this. Slowly starting to grind your hips as your mouth pressed against his pulse, every shaky breath you elicited from him awakening something new in you.

“Say it, Snow.” You murmured, breath catching. “Tell me you want me to beg you, and be good for you.” Another trail of messy kisses across his jaw, and you finally heard it, ragged and coarse, words shooting through you like knives softened by the heat of his breath on your hair.

“Be a good girl, and fucking beg me.”

You hummed with satisfaction. Moved your lips to his ear, hand cupping the back of his neck, and leaned in close.

“If you wanted me to be good,” you whispered, “then you’ve picked the wrong girl.”

You felt it, his whole body tensing beneath you. But you had it now, the upper hand, and you weren’t giving it away. Your other hand came up to close over his mouth with a warning shake of the head, and you gripped the back of his neck harder with the first. Craned it backwards so he could look at you, a different kind of fire in his eyes. A fire that could burn you far worse than any other. You leaned your weight into him until you were flush, skin pressing into fabric. Tightening your legs around his so he couldn’t kick out. You felt dangerous. You felt alive.

When you spoke, your voice was a vial of vitriol.

“You thought I’d just give into you? Three weeks of torture and you call it even? No fucking way, Snow. You wanted to play? Let’s play.”

You were closer to him now than you’d ever been before, infinitely closer than when you’d held hands in front of an audience, or danced in the middle of a ballroom, or when he’d draw you in for a lingering kiss at the head of a busy table.

You were closer still because of the common denominator: you were alone, your bodies pressed together, soft and firm colliding. And your stomach ached with want, but your rage burned brighter.

When you were sure he wouldn’t move, you readjusted your position on his lap so you were sat on one thigh, your right knee pressed firmly against the chair between his legs. Slowly, you dragged your hips against it, firm muscle between your legs, shameless as you stared him down.

“I’d like to modify the terms of our agreement, as of tonight. Starting with this: I’ve made sure your little whore won’t come running back here. If I so much as hear a whisper of a rumor that you’re fucking someone else, I’m leaving. Don’t think I don’t know how to disappear. I can, and I will.”

He scowled at you, and you’d never felt power like the rush you got from seeing your hand clamped over his mouth. His own hands, now easily able to overpower you and push yours away, instead sat at your hips, digging in so hard you knew there’d be bruises for weeks. As you moved, he started to follow suit, rocking your hips on his thigh faster.

He’s allowing this.

The realisation made you pull your hand from his mouth, and yet he didn’t speak. There was a tightness in his jaw, locked down so hard it must’ve hurt as he watched you move, helped you move. It sent a shock through your core, and you ground down harder.

Who’s on top now?

This was getting to your head.

“President Snow,” you mocked. “What a title. Thinks he can take whatever’s in his sight. Thinks he has the right. Did you think I’d come crawling back to you?” Your voice lowered.

“Did you think I’d get on my knees, like she did?” You glanced down, running your now-free hand over the front of his pants, gentle at first, then pressing in firm, and he hissed.

“Did you really think, after all your little shows, that I’d just submit? Not a chance.” You spat, and his breath turned a little shaky as your hand slid up, then down.

As it evened out, and he reached for composure again, he pulled a countermove. Got in close, with words so sharp, they nearly cut through you.

“Which one was your favorite?”

You pulled your hand away. Your hold on the back of his neck tightened, and in turn, so did his grip on your hips, pulling you down harder as you got closer, panties bunching up as you became desperate.

You shook your head.

“Don’t.”

He smirked.

“I gave you plenty to go off. Tell me, was it when I sat right here while she rode me? Or when I was fucking her mouth and calling your name?”

He pulled your hips in rougher, and you gasped, barely able to think. You were sure if he kept this up, your thighs would chafe. You just couldn’t find it in you to care.

“No, I don’t think so.” He hummed. “I know which one it was. It was the second time, wasn’t it? When I was making her cum all over my tongue, wondering what you tasted like.”

You couldn’t help it – a moan slipped out of your lips. He kept up the pace, rolling your hips faster, flexing his thigh as you started losing your bearings. He laughed at the state of you.

“I knew that one would get to you. Tell me something, princess, how many times did you touch yourself after that night wishing it was me? Or did you lose count?”

You gritted your teeth, fighting the spinning room.

“Cocky much?”

He let out a breathy laugh again, as if he was losing himself as much as you were. Pulling you in harder in response.

“Look at you,” he mused, “riding my thigh like the needy slut you are. Bet you’re close, too, and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Fuck.” you panted. “Stop fucking talking, oh my god.”

“You sure about that, sweetheart? You know I can feel how wet it’s making you, right?”

Your head dropped down and you whined. Sure enough, you’d soaked through your panties and dripped an embarrassing wet patch on his dress pants. You cursed under your breath as you slowed down.

“Beg me.” He ordered.

“No.” You gasped as he pulled you back again, faster, hips bucking as your legs started to shake around his.

“Beg me,” he repeated, "or I’ll stop.”

“Fuck, no, don’t fucking stop, I can’t-”

It was so much friction it hurt, but you kept chasing it.

“Yes, you can. You want to cum? Ask nicely, sweetheart. Just ask me.”

The seam of your panties got wetter as you moved, just enough to let the pain melt into pleasure instead as it caught on your clit, and you started to ride out your high. You were right at the edge, he was keeping you there, hair stuck to your face in a hot sweat as you writhed on his lap. So fucking close.

“Fine, shit. Please. Please help me cum, oh my god. Right there, please. Fuck.”

And maybe you were more like him than you thought, because you weren’t ashamed. You rode his thigh like you’d ride him, unabashedly, while he watched you starting to fall apart. He moved faster, pulled your hips hard in as if you were riding him, as if he could feel it, breath running ragged, desperate. It only brought you closer knowing this would be sending him over the edge, holding you so near and yet so awfully far away. The look in his eyes screaming danger, and you let it swallow you whole, squeezing his shoulders like you were scared you’d float away.

"That's it. Knew you'd sound incredible, asking me all pretty like that."

His lips met your neck, teeth grazing your skin and that’s what did it, your legs squeezing his as you shook through your orgasm, crying out, falling to pieces, hearing going fuzzy. The words good girl echoing through your head so distantly, you couldn’t tell if he’d really said them or not.

You sighed, glazed eyes rolling open, coming back to yourself. Your right hand was pressed against his chest, fingers curled into the creased fabric of his shirt. As you looked closer, you noticed it had opened wider, and he was missing a button. Had you done that?

When your eyes finally met Snow’s, you couldn’t look away from them. Beautiful and blue, like an ocean frozen over, staring into yours like you were all he’d ever wanted. You could get high off this feeling, live off it.

“Get on the bed.” He breathed. “Right fucking now.”

But too much of any feeling isn’t good for you.

“No.”

He glowered, face flushing even further, and as he leaned in to make another demand, you quickly stood, trying your hardest not to let your wobbling legs give you away.

“You should understand, Snow. We’re doing things my way now. And I’m going to be doing them as I please, when I please.”

You picked his jacket up from the floor, and slipped back into it, the soft fabric cooling down your burning skin.

“You think you’re funny, sweetheart? Nobody likes a fucking tease.”

You chuckled, doing up a button and brushing your hair out of your face, damp with sweat. You walked to the dresser and took a swig from Snow’s half-empty glass, then turned. He sat there, and it took everything in you not to smirk at the mess you’d made of him. You handed him the glass when you were done drinking and turned away. You felt him stand, but you didn’t acknowledge it, still fiddling with your hair, smoothing it out.

“You said it yourself, Snow. I’m no common whore. If you want me to beg you to fuck me, you’re gonna have to work for it.” You turned, pulling him in for a chaste kiss. His face was unreadable.

“But be a doll, leave your door unlocked.” You added, stepping back. “You never know when I might change my mind.”

“You’re not going to leave. You wouldn’t dare.” He seethed, the rage in his voice only propelling you on.

“Wouldn’t I?” You smiled, giving him a once over. Dropped your eyes down pointedly, first at the ruined leg you’d ridden, then at the uncomfortable-looking tent in his pants. You met his eye again and bit your lip, really laying it on thick. “Good luck with that, sweetheart. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

He huffed, incredulous, disbelief painted across his face as you made for the door, swinging it open. You glanced over your shoulder.

“Buckle up, Snow. I’m just getting started.”

You missed the way his shocked face turned almost admiring as he watched you leave, walking barefoot down the hallway, leaving the door wide open.

Checkmate.

a/n: hope it was worth the wait 😌

taglist: @superchatnoir07 @itsrainingreid @nycweb-slinger @lookclosernow @etfrin @resibunn @serving-targaryen-realness @harmfulb1tch @demonsnangels @superb-icarus @julesandro @gracieroxzy @slyhersophia @shadowsepiphany @ben-has-arrived @unclecrunkle @zerotwo-sciencequeen @itsleniiilosers @thesiriusmap @ooooglymoooogly @darkqweenn @going-through-shit @loverw1tch @stinkii-boii @tqmqkii @not-avery @natsgf @sleepysongbirdsings @hopebaker @darknight3904 @pemberlystateofmind @bxtchopolis @real-lana-del-rey @24kmar @louweasleymalfoy @m1ndbrand @coconut-dreamz @cosmicgyral @urfavevirgoo @mk15x @theamuz @ashy-kit @violante777 @snowlandstop @badbleep88 (more tags in the comments!)

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #snow x reader #snow x you #tom blyth #tbosas #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #attention

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tateypots · 1 month ago

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The Shower

18+ MDNI

Pairing : Dark!Joel Miller x f!reader (sorry no Tommy in this one).

Word Count: 1.5K

A/N: Ok so I'd like everyone to take a second to appreciate the amazing new Collared moodboard/banner (not sure of the correct terminology) that was sent to me as a gift by the completely wonderful @aurorawritestoescape/@not-a-unique-snowflake-blog. I think we can all agree that it's totally awesome!

I'm so insanely touched that she took the time out to create something so beautiful for my story and I thought as a thank you I would drop an extra little Collared chapter.

When I was writing the last chapter (before the story got away from me and derailed all my plans) I actually drafted out a version of the shower scene that Joel tells Tommy about. And as the bare bones were already drafted I have fleshed it out to be it's own chapter. So this will sit between Surrender and Uncle Tommy's Mistake. I hope you enjoy.

Please note that the moodboard is for aesthetics only, reader is never described past having boobs and a vagina.

Warnings: Non-con, dark!Joel, kidnapping, Daddy kink, talk of squirting (Joel not really having a clue how it works), restraints, joint showering, oral (f!receiving), masturbation (m), cum eating.

Part 5 | Part 7 | Series Masterlist

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You awaken from your nap to Joel pulling out of you, your pussy aching at the prolonged stretch of having him inside you. A small whimper escapes before you’re even fully aware of what is happening.

“I know baby, I know. It’s a lotta cock for your little pussy to hold inside for so long hmm?”

You nod against his chest, still fully lying atop him “yes Daddy.”

Joel’s cock throbs at hearing that name fall from you with such ease after months of resistance. Before he can get carried away he rolls you off him onto your back on the bed and gets up with a groan.

“Need to clean us both up baby, you made a big mess,” he tells you, basking in the memory of your little pussy squirting all over him. He was surprised how arousing he’d found it. It was never something he’d given much thought in the before but fuck, how he’d enjoyed knowing he’d pushed you to the pinnacle of pleasure.

You pull your knees to your chest and tuck your head in, aiming to make yourself as small as possible, raw with vulnerability after finally surrendering yourself to Joel.

“I’m sorry Daddy, I didn’t mean to,” you whimper, worried you’re about to get in trouble, “I don’t know what happened, I’ve never wet myself before. I’m so sorry Daddy, please don’t be mad at me!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothes, crouching down to tug your face up to look at him. “I ain’t mad at you baby, you made Daddy so happy with what you did. C’mere,” he sits on the bed and drags you into his lap. “You didn’t wet yourself baby, you squirted, you know what that means?”

You shake your head timidly at him as he strokes your arm and you sink into his embrace. He wasn’t entirely sure on the mechanics of it himself but seeing your confused little face peering up at him the urge to soothe you burned through him, even if he had to bluff a little in order to do it.

“Well, you know how wet your little pussy gets when Daddy’s makin’ you feel good? Well some special girls, like you, when they feel especially good, their pussies can squirt out some of that wetness. That’s why it made me so happy baby, showed me how much you were enjoyin’ yourself.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to reply, not really sure what to make of what he was telling you, still unsure as to whether to be embarrassed or not. It had felt really good but you couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed by your body again. You had started to bare yourself emotionally to Joel, still a little scared and unsure but it seemed like your body was refusing to hold anything back. It would not keep any secrets from him.

He watched your face scrunch up as you contemplated his explanation. God he loved how innocent you were. You’d clearly led a very sheltered existence pre-outbreak and now he got to teach you everything you’d been missing out on. His cock throbs again at the thought.

He placed you back on the bed, getting up and disappearing into his room briefly and returning with the key to your collar.

“Come on baby, lets take a shower, get all cleaned up.”

He kept a hand tight around your bicep as he unlocked you. It’s not really necessary, there’s no way you’d attempt anything. You couldn’t beat him in a fight. And even if you were fast enough to slip away from him you wouldn’t survive long outside, naked in the freezing temperatures. And that’s without the added complication of also managing to slip past Tommy. But Joel refuses to take any risks with you after all the progress he’s made so his grip remains tight and bruising.

Guiding you into the bathroom he sits you down on the toilet, closing and locking the door behind him before turning on the shower head and waiting for the water to heat up. Once it was warm enough he guides you under the stream before climbing in after you.

You relax in the heat of the water, enjoying the comforting patter of it on your skin as Joel hastily washes himself behind you. Before long you feel his big soapy hands on you, making sure he captures every inch of skin on your back half before pulling you back into his chest to reach around you and repeat the process over your front. His hands linger on your breasts, squeezing and massaging softly before tweaking the nipples. You moan at his ministrations, pangs of arousal shooting to your core, so pleasurable despite your poor, abused pussy aching with every pulse and throb. You feel Joel harden behind you as his hands drop lower. He pushes your top half against the wall, bending you slightly at the waist and takes the shower head from the bracket to rinse off your seam. This is typically the point of your shower that whichever brother has the job of washing you would fuck you hard against the tiles. You brace yourself for it but instead Joel replaces the shower head and kneels behind you, planting a kiss on each ass cheek before spreading them to inspect your pussy.

“She’s all red and swollen baby. She sore?”

You sniffle out a quiet “yes,” hoping he’ll take pity on you. And he does in a way.

“Don’ worry baby, Daddy’s goin’ to kiss this all better.”

Before you can even question what he means he starts placing soft little kisses on your pussy. You startle at the contact, a shocked little cry escaping you.

“Daddy what are you doing?!” you gasp, unable to fathom why he would want to put his mouth on you there.

“Mmm baby, Daddy needs a taste of you,” he mumbles into your folds, continuing to leave kisses around your entrance and over your lips.

“Daddy it’s dirty!”

“Ain’t dirty baby, bet you taste so fuckin’ sweet. It’ll feel good baby I promise, just trust Daddy k?”

He doesn’t wait for a response before slowly easing his fat tongue inside you, swirling it around before retreating and pressing in again. You can’t deny it feels incredible but you can’t help but feel uneasy at this new form of debauchery you’re being introduced to. Your head spins, the pleasure and the anxiety at war within you.

“I was right baby, you are fuckin’ delicious,” he babbles before pushing into you again.

He slowly tongue fucks you for a few minutes and in the recesses of your brain you register how tender he’s being, how careful he is not to worsen the ache caused by his cock. He’s being kind to you. That thought alone has your heartrate soaring.

He withdraws his tongue from inside you and kisses his way down to your clit. You moan at the sensation of his tongue gently laving over it, swirling around it in ever decreasing circles before starting the maddening circuit again.

When he feels your clit start to throb under his tongue he starts alternating his little licks with softly sucking the swollen nub between his lips. It doesn’t take long for the pressure to build within you. He can see your poor little pussy clenching around nothing and with a shudder and a cry you come for him. His tongue abandons your little bundle of nerves when he sees your arousal starting to leak out of you. He gently circuits your entrance before easing the hot, wet muscle back inside of you, careful not to waste a drop of your sweetness.

With a groan and a final kiss to your clit Joel detaches himself from your pussy. Standing he turns you to face him and pushes you to your knees. Gripping his angry, leaking cock in his massive hand and stroking it with urgency.

“Open your mouth and stick your tongue out baby.”

You hesitate for a beat before following his instruction. He growls at the sight of you on your knees for him, mouth ready and waiting. He can’t wait for the day he can sink into the wet heat of it. But he’d promised Tommy. Promised that Tommy’s cock would be the first in your mouth. This would have to be enough for now.

With a moan his balls tighten and ropes of his hot seed spurt over your face and tongue. You try to flinch away but Joel catches you with his free hand keeping you in place

“Keep that tongue out baby, be a good girl, stay right there.”

With a grunt he finishes emptying his balls on your tongue.

“Ya look so pretty all painted baby,” he tells you as he gently rubs his thumb over your cheekbone, smearing his cum over your skin.

“Now, swallow.”

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Please let me know if you’d like to be removed from the tag list.

@aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @oldloganslittleslut @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @axshadows @justajoelsreader @ahintofkiwistrawberry @guelyury @rosebuds-and-moonlight @koshkaj-blog @shivispunk @ivoryandflame @tammythr @magpiepills @megjohnston23 @ad23900

#dark!joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #smut #tw noncon #tw kidnapping #collared fic

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jhyoos · 1 month ago

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REBEL GIRL

rockstar sevika x influencer reader

Chapter 9: Shitfaced

summary : (y/n) goes to visit her family in New York before having to leave.

mentions : fluff, modern au, fame au, very suggestive smut, partying, drinking, smoking, family being supportive, my horrible attempts at writing very mild smut

notes: one more chapter to go y’all…so I made this one as long as I could. 😝

After the concert, you stepped out of the VIP section, weaving through the crowd on your way backstage. A couple of security guards flanked you, ensuring your path was clear. Just as you reached the corridor leading to the backstage area, you heard someone call your name.

Curious, you turned around and saw a group of girls standing nearby. They were decked out in Shattered Souls merch, clutching posters and their phones, some already recording. Their excitement was palpable. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should approach, but their bright smiles encouraged you to walk over.

“Hi,” you greeted with a warm smile.

One of the girls wasted no time and blurted, “Is it true you’re dating Sevika?”

Her boldness caught you off guard, but you managed to keep your composure. “Wow, straight to the point,” you said with a small laugh. “I mean… yeah, you could say that.”

The group erupted in a mix of reactions—gasps, squeals, and murmurs of surprise and excitement.

“You’re so pretty. No wonder Sevika is with you,” one of them said, her voice full of admiration.

You felt your cheeks flush. “Oh, thank you so much,” you replied, genuinely touched.

“Can you sign my poster?” another girl asked, holding out a Sharpie and a glossy band poster.

You hesitated, glancing at the poster. “Are you sure you want me to? I’m not even in the band,” you said, chuckling nervously.

“Yes, I’m sure!” the girl insisted, nodding eagerly.

With a small smile, you took the Sharpie and carefully signed your name in a corner, trying not to ruin the pristine artwork. “Alright, there you go,” you said, handing it back.

As soon as the first autograph was given, the other girls chimed in, asking you to sign their posters, shirts, and even their arms. You obliged, feeling a mix of awkwardness and flattery.

“I hope you guys enjoyed the concert,” you told them with a grin as you handed the last poster back.

As you were talking to the group of girls, their chatter suddenly shifted into excited screams. You caught bits of their words—“Oh my god, it’s Sevika!” and “Can I get an autograph?”—and turned to see what the commotion was about. There she was, walking toward you, radiating confidence and presence in a way that made everything around her fade.

“Damn…” you muttered under your breath, unable to stop yourself from staring. You saw her on that stage…but face to face was a different story. She wore a tight black compression shirt cropped just enough to show off the intricate tattoos running along her stomach and arms, paired with jeans that fit her perfectly, accentuating her v-line. A choker wrapped snugly around her neck, complementing her edgy look. Her hair was pulled back into a man bun, showing off her numerous ear piercings, her undercut and the eyebrow piercing that made her even more striking.

You frowned slightly when you noticed the cigarette hanging from her mouth. You hated when she smoked, but you decided to let it slide, considering the fans were watching and you didn’t want to make a scene.

Her voice pulled you from your thoughts. “Is this what took you so long?” Sevika asked, the cigarette bouncing slightly as she spoke.

“I couldn’t just ignore them,” you replied, gesturing toward the eager fans.

She smirked and took the Sharpie out of your hand before grabbing a few of their posters. Without skipping a beat, she began signing them, her movements casual but deliberate.

“You guys are so good together,” one of the fans said, and a few others chimed in, agreeing enthusiastically.

Sevika’s smirk deepened, and for a split second, you almost lost your footing. That look of hers had a way of making you feel weak in the knees. “Thanks,” she said smoothly, handing the signed posters back. Then she looked at the group and added, “If you don’t mind, we both gotta head out.”

The fans groaned softly but nodded, clearly thrilled with the brief interaction.

Sevika slid a hand to the small of your back, her touch firm yet gentle, and started guiding you toward the backstage entrance. One of the guards stationed there opened the door for you both, giving Sevika a quick nod of acknowledgment.

Once inside, the noise of the crowd quieted behind the thick doors. Sevika flicked the cigarette out of her mouth into a nearby ashtray and turned to you with a teasing grin. “You were really soaking up the attention out there, huh?”

“Jealous?” you teased back, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted, leaning down to kiss your temple. “But they’re right, you know. We are good together.”

Her words left a warm flutter in your chest as you made your way further backstage, Sevika’s hand still firmly on your back, as if she was silently reminding you—and everyone else—that you were hers.

“Who styled you today? You look really good,” you asked, admiring Sevika as you walked together.

She smirked and leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, slow kiss that left your head spinning. When she pulled back, her voice was smooth and low. “I styled myself. Stylist couldn’t make it.”

“Dress like this more. It shows off everything just the way I like it,” you teased, grinning up at her.

“And what do you like about it?” she asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she stepped closer, closing the gap between you.

“That your muscles pop out, your v-line, and your piercings, and that undercut,” you said, biting your lip before adding with a playful smirk, “God… I’d let you fuck me right here if we could.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow at your boldness, her grin widening. “If there’s a will, there’s a way,” she murmured, her voice laced with temptation as she moved in closer.

Before you could respond, Jinx burst into the room with her usual dramatic timing. “You guys are not fucking in here,” she interrupted, shooting both of you a pointed look as she grabbed the last of her things. “Now let’s go, please. I wanna see my man.”

You laughed and playfully pushed Sevika away. “You heard the woman. Let’s go,” you said, shaking your head.

Sevika rolled her eyes but chuckled, grabbing her gear. You walked over to Jinx, helping her with the last few items. Together, the three of you carried everything out, loading it onto the bus waiting outside. Sevika stayed close behind you the entire time, her hand occasionally brushing against yours, as if she couldn’t help but stay connected.

Jinx glanced at the two of you, rolling her eyes with a grin. “You two are so obvious it’s disgusting,” she said with a laugh before hopping onto the bus.

The following morning, you decided to visit your family before flying back to California. The band’s tour would continue, but a major sponsorship opportunity had come up, one you couldn’t afford to pass on. You also felt that being around Sevika 24/7 might end up distracting her, especially since she couldn’t seem to keep her hands—or her mouth—off of you since you two started dating.

After packing a bag full of gifts, you hailed a taxi to your childhood home. The snow outside glittered under the morning sun, and you felt a familiar warmth bubbling inside you despite the chill. When you reached the house, you took a moment to soak it all in before knocking on the door.

It swung open, revealing your mother, who immediately gasped and pulled you into a tight hug. “Oh, my baby,” she said, her voice cracking as happy tears spilled from her eyes. She pulled back, holding your arms as she looked you over.

“You’ve gotten so skinny!” she said, frowning slightly. “Come inside—I’ll fatten you up.” She tugged you in, closing the door behind you.

“Ryan! RYAN! Our baby is here!” she shouted into the house.

You couldn’t help but snort at her yelling, and moments later, your father came rushing down the stairs, his face lighting up when he saw you.

“Oh… my angel,” he said, wrapping you in a firm hug.

Before you could respond, you heard the familiar sound of tiny paws on the floor. Your childhood yorkie, Sammie, came barreling toward you, tail wagging furiously.

“Oh, my sweet boy!” you cooed, scooping him up and peppering his face with kisses before setting him gently on the couch.

“How long can you stay?” your mom asked eagerly, her hands still on your shoulders as if she didn’t want to let you go.

You gave her an apologetic smile. “You know I can’t stay long, Ma. But I’ll be back for Easter—I wouldn’t miss the family reunion for anything.”

You gestured toward the bag you’d brought, grinning. “But I brought some things for you guys.”

The next few minutes were filled with excited gasps and heartfelt thank-yous as you handed out the gifts. Your mom beamed when she saw the expensive jacket and heated blanket, immediately hugging both to her chest. Your dad was equally thrilled with his jacket, blanket, and new work boots, which he joked would make him the envy of the entire construction site. Even Sammie wasn’t left out—he barked happily when you gave him a new dog bed, tiny sweaters, and treats specially made for his fragile teeth.

The biggest gift, however, was when you handed your parents your black card. “Use this to pay off anything you need—bills, repairs, whatever,” you said firmly.

Your mom teared up again, hugging you tightly, while your dad gave you a proud smile and ruffled your hair.

As you all sat down in the living room, Sammie curled up on your lap, your mom brought up something you’d half-expected. “So… we saw the news,” she said, her voice taking on a teasing tone. “About you and that girl—what’s her name? Sevika?”

You chuckled, feeling a little shy but knowing they’d be supportive. “Yeah, her name’s Sevika. We’re together now.”

Your mom’s eyes lit up, and your dad nodded approvingly. “Well, you’ve dated girls before, so it’s not exactly a shock. But this one… she seems like a strong woman,” your dad said with a smile.

“She is,” you replied, thinking back to Sevika’s no-nonsense attitude and her unwavering confidence. “She’s… amazing, honestly. A little rough around the edges, but she’s got a good heart.”

Your mom grinned. “Well, if she makes you happy, that’s all that matters.”

“She does,” you said softly, your heart swelling with warmth at their approval.

Your dad gave you a sly smile. “Just don’t let her scare off the family at Easter.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll keep her in check, I promise.”

The rest of the visit was spent catching up, sharing stories, and enjoying the comfort of home—a brief but much-needed reminder of where you came from and the love that surrounded you.

You let the moment sink in, warmth spreading through you as you felt the love and acceptance from your parents. But then, their words fully registered, snapping you out of your reverie.

“Wait—what? You want her to come to the reunion?” you asked, sitting up a little straighter.

Your parents exchanged a look before nodding in unison, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Finn came for the two years you two were together… so why not Sevika?” your mom asked, her tone light but curious.

You blinked at her, caught off guard by the comparison. “Fuck… because of Grandpa,” you blurted out, your voice tinged with frustration. “He’s very homophobic. And Sevika has a short temper.”

Your dad shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Just ignore him. He’s old-fashioned, that’s all,” he said, as though that excused your grandfather’s behavior.

You shot him a skeptical look. “Old-fashioned? He told me I was going to hell when I brought Finn to Thanksgiving just because he had tattoos and piercings. And that was before Finn even said a single word to him. Imagine what he says when a tall, masculine woman, with tattoos and piercings comes into the room.”

Your mom waved a hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter what Grandpa thinks. You’re our child, and you’re always welcome to bring whoever makes you happy. Sevika included.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you weighed their words. The idea of introducing Sevika to your extended family—especially your grandfather—felt like opening a can of worms. But at the same time, you didn’t want to hide her away like some kind of secret.

Finally, you took a deep breath, letting it out in a long exhale. “Fine,” you said reluctantly. “I’ll invite her.”

Your mom beamed, clearly pleased with your decision. “Good! I’m sure she’ll do great. Besides, your cousins will love her.”

You weren’t sure whether that was comforting or terrifying, but you nodded anyway, already mentally preparing for the chaos Easter was bound to bring.

When you returned to the hotel, the warm hum of music greeted you as you pushed the door open. Inside, Sevika was perched on the couch, her guitar resting against her lap as her fingers skillfully strummed a melody. The rest of the band was scattered around the room—Caitlyn scribbling in a notebook, Vi tapping out a rhythm on the edge of the coffee table, and Jinx lounging on the floor, absently humming along. It was clear they were deep into working on new material, their faces a mix of concentration and quiet intensity.

“I’m back,” you announced, stepping into the room and setting your bag down by the door.

“Welcome back,” they all said in unison, their voices subdued but warm.

You paused, glancing around at their expressions. The energy in the room was heavy—bittersweet, no doubt because your departure was looming. You knew they felt it just as much as you did. Not wanting to let the mood linger, you clapped your hands together, a mischievous smile spreading across your face.

“Do you guys maybe wanna go clubbing one last time before I have to leave?” you asked, your tone light and inviting.

Caitlyn looked up from her notebook, her brows arching with interest. “Of course,” she said, her voice cutting through the somber atmosphere.

“Good,” you said, grinning as you stepped further into the room. “Because I know the perfect place we can go. It’s gonna be a night to remember.”

Jinx perked up instantly, her energy flipping like a switch. “Ohhh, I’m in! I need to blow off some steam anyway.” She hopped to her feet, practically bouncing with excitement.

Vi leaned back in her chair, a sly grin on her face. “A night out with you is always interesting. I’m down.”

Sevika’s eyes met yours from where she sat, her fingers still lightly brushing over the strings of her guitar. She smirked. “If you’re leading, I’ll follow. Just don’t get us into too much trouble.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “No promises.”

As the mood in the room lifted, the band started to come alive with chatter and excitement, tossing out ideas for what to wear and speculating on what kind of place you were taking them to. Sevika set her guitar aside, standing and stretching before walking over to you.

“Got anything fancy in mind for tonight, or are we going full chaos mode?” she teased, her tone low and playful.

You leaned up to whisper, “Why not both?”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “That’s dangerous.”

With plans set and spirits high, everyone began to scatter, grabbing their things and getting ready for the night ahead. You felt a spark of excitement yourself, knowing this would be a perfect sendoff—not just for you, but for all of you as a group.

You took your time getting ready that evening, pulling the delicate black mesh top over your head and adjusting the shredded, figure-hugging skirt to perfection. The ensemble highlighted every curve while maintaining a bold, edgy vibe. After ensuring your makeup was flawless, with smoky eyes and deep plum lipstick, you slipped on a pair of heels that completed the look. Checking yourself in the mirror, you nodded in approval. Tonight, you were all in.

The sound of the shower stopped, followed by the soft padding of feet as Sevika stepped out of the bathroom. The moment you turned to look, your breath hitched. She was wearing a black, tight-fitting crop top with a daring cutout that framed her cleavage, paired with low-rise black cargo pants and her signature black boots. Her damp hair was styled into a loose man bun, showcasing her sharp features and confident stance.

Sevika paused mid-step, her eyes drinking you in with an intensity that made your cheeks flush. “Damn,” she muttered, her lips curving into a sly grin as she closed the distance between you. “It’s gonna be a long night.”

Before you could respond, she pulled you close, her lips capturing yours in a deep, passionate kiss. Her calloused hands rested on your hips, and the faint scent of her body wash lingered in the air. You melted into her embrace, letting yourself be consumed by her touch until you gently pushed against her chest. “Sev,” you murmured, breaking the kiss, “this lipstick is kiss-proof, not face-sucking-proof.”

Sevika chuckled, her smirk widening as her thumb brushed along your jawline. “Noted. But don’t blame me if I lose all control tonight.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, grabbing your clutch. “Let’s just make it to the club first.”

Before you and Sevika headed out the door to meet the others downstairs, you grabbed her arm, halting her in her tracks. She turned to you with a slight frown, her confusion evident.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her tone cautious but curious.

“Easter,” you said simply, biting your lip as you tried to find the right words.

Her eyebrow quirked up. “What about Easter?”

You took a deep breath, your fingers fidgeting nervously with the hem of your sweater. “My family has this huge reunion that day here in New York. They bring everyone—girlfriends, boyfriends, close friends, the whole nine yards. My parents… they want you to come,” you admitted, your voice soft but steady.

Sevika’s other eyebrow joined the first, her expression a mix of surprise and amusement. “Nice to know they like me,” she said with a smirk. Then her head tilted slightly. “But, baby, that’s not for another four months. Why are you telling me this now?”

You let out a small laugh, feeling a bit silly for bringing it up so early. “Just so you can put it on your calendar. You know, block the date or whatever,” you said, flashing her a small, shy smile.

Her smirk softened into a fond grin, and she cupped your cheek for a brief moment. “Of course, I’m coming. Wouldn’t miss it,” she said confidently before dropping her hand back to her side.

“Let’s go before they leave us,” she added, intertwining her fingers with yours and tugging you toward the door.

With a final glance back at the room to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything, you followed her downstairs to join the others. The energy was already buzzing as the group prepped for a night of clubbing, and you couldn’t help but feel a little more at ease knowing Sevika had agreed to meet your family, even if the thought of introducing her to your grandfather still made your stomach twist.

When you arrived at the club, the place was buzzing, packed wall-to-wall just like the old days when you’d sneak in as a college student. The line to get inside snaked around the block, but you weren’t about to wait. Without a second thought, you weaved your way through the crowd, earning a mix of side-eyes and grumbles from the people in line.

“Excuse me, sorry, coming through,” you mumbled as you squeezed past, flashing polite smiles at anyone who gave you a dirty look.

Behind you, the others stood in stunned silence, watching you bulldoze through like you owned the place. Sevika shook her head with a smirk and leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, as the others exchanged hesitant glances.

Finally, you reached the front of the line, coming face-to-face with two familiar faces: the same security guards who used to let you and your broke college friends in after you promised to bring them food. One of them squinted at you, his face lighting up with recognition.

“Well, if it isn’t the superstar!” he boomed, giving you a playful ruffle of your perfectly styled hair. “I remember when you were nothing but a broke college student sneaking in here!”

You swatted his hand away with an annoyed huff, quickly smoothing your hair back into place. “C’mon, can you let me in already? I’ve got a valid ID now—and so do my friends back there,” you said, jerking your thumb toward the group still lingering at the back of the line.

The guard raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, before breaking into a grin. “Of course, of course. You being here will definitely get us more business tonight,” he said as he unhooked the velvet rope and held the door open for you.

You turned back and waved at the group, motioning for them to follow. Sevika pushed off the wall immediately, striding forward without hesitation, while the others hesitated briefly before trailing behind her.

As soon as you stepped inside, the pounding bass of the music washed over you, the heat of the packed club hitting you like a wave. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol, sweat, and faint traces of expensive perfume.

Before you could even fully take in your surroundings, a tray of shots was shoved into your hands. The bartender grinned at you from across the counter, shouting something you could barely hear over the music.

You smirked, already feeling the adrenaline coursing through you. This night was going to be a blur—of drinks, dancing, and undoubtedly some trouble. You glanced over at Sevika, who had already claimed her first drink of the night, her sharp eyes scanning the room like she owned the place.

Yeah, you were getting fucked up tonight—in more ways than one.

The night was wild, and the drinks had long since gone to your head. You and Caitlyn, in your usual drunken mischief, had taken over the club. Jinx joined the chaos this time, amping up the energy. Every time one of your favorite songs blared through the speakers, the three of you clambered onto tables or stages, screaming the lyrics at the top of your lungs.

Your balance was nonexistent, and your vision swam with colors and faces that blurred together. But even through the haze, one figure stood out like a lighthouse in a storm: Sevika. She was leaning casually against the wall with Vi, her sharp eyes scanning the club while she nursed a glass of whiskey.

Everything seemed perfect—until you noticed the girl.

She was tall and confident, sidling up to Sevika and leaning in far too close. Her hand rested on Sevika’s arm, her lips moving as she whispered something into Sevika's ear. Your heart sank, a fire sparking in your chest as you watched. Those were your arms she was touching. That was your girl.

The crowd around you swayed and cheered, but all you could focus on was Sevika and that stranger. Without thinking, you waved down a random guy in the crowd. “Hey! Can you help me down?”

He looked uncertain but nodded, grabbing you gently by the waist and lowering you off the table. Your legs wobbled beneath you, and you nearly stumbled, but determination propelled you forward. You pushed your way through the sea of people, muttering apologies as you bumped into shoulders and spilled a few drinks along the way.

Sevika spotted you almost immediately. She brushed off the girl without hesitation, her steely gaze softening when she saw your tipsy form struggling toward her. By the time you got close, she stepped in, grabbing your arm to steady you before you could faceplant into someone.

“What’s my pretty girl doing?” she asked, her low voice almost drowned out by the music. She pulled you close, her arm wrapping securely around your waist.

“I came to see what you were doing with that bimbo,” you answered bluntly, your intoxicated state stripping away any filter as you glared at the girl as she rolled her eyes and walked away.

Sevika let out a low chuckle, shaking her head. “Nothing. I rejected her. I’m yours, baby.”

“Mine?” you asked, a sly smile creeping across your lips as your fingers toyed with the collar of her shirt.

“Yeah,” she murmured, leaning in closer. “And you’re mine.”

She sealed her promise with a kiss, her lips capturing yours in a way that made your knees even weaker than they already were. You melted into her, your arms wrapping around her neck as you leaned into the kiss, deepening it without a care for the people around you.

With a laugh, you practically pounced on her, your legs wrapping around her waist. Sevika caught you effortlessly, her hands finding purchase—one on your thigh, the other firmly gripping your ass. She pulled back slightly, smirking at your flushed face and needy expression.

“Jesus, you two fuck like rabbits,” Vi called out loudly, rolling her eyes as she walked past. Her voice was just loud enough to cut through the music and reach your ears.

You glanced over Sevika’s shoulder in time to see Vi shaking her head before disappearing into the crowd, likely heading off to find Caitlyn and get up to the same kind of trouble.

You didn’t care, though. Your focus was locked on Sevika, her whiskey-scented breath brushing against your cheek as she whispered, “Let’s see how long you can stay on me this time.”

The next thing you knew, you were pressed up against the wall of an empty bathroom stall, your lips crashing against Sevika’s in a heated kiss. Her hands gripped your waist tightly as if anchoring you to her. The scent of whiskey on her breath mixed with the faint smell of your own perfume, a heady combination that made you lightheaded.

Sevika pulled back slightly, her lips trailing down to your neck. She found that sweet spot that made your knees buckle, sucking gently while her hand moved to steady you. “You’re so beautiful,” she murmured against your skin. “Every time I see you, it’s like you’re even more gorgeous than the last time.”

Her words made your chest tighten in the best way. You tugged on her jacket, making her look at you. Your brows furrowed as you scanned her face, noting the slight glassiness in her eyes and the way her smirk was a little looser than usual. “Wait… You’re drunk,” you said, the realization dawning on you. “I’ve never seen you drunk before.”

Sevika chuckled lowly, her hands still gripping your waist. “You’re even more fucked up,” she teased, a rare smile pulling at her lips.

You both burst into laughter, the kind that only two drunk people could share, until Sevika’s hand slipped under your skirt, making you gasp. Her fingers brushed against your damp panties, and her grin widened. “Do you love me, baby?” she asked, her voice lower, more serious now.

Your breath hitched as her fingers pressed against you through the thin fabric. “I love you so much,” you managed to whisper, your hands tangling in her hair.

Before you could fully lose yourself in her touch, a sudden click and a flash of light snapped both of you out of the moment.

“What the fuck?” you gasped, immediately looking up. Through the slight gap in the stall door, you spotted a girl standing there with a professional camera in hand, her eyes wide with a mix of guilt and excitement.

Sevika whipped around, her body shielding you instinctively. “Are you kidding me?” she growled, but before either of you could react, the girl darted out of the bathroom like her life depended on it.

“Shit,” Sevika cursed under her breath, her hand pulling out from under your skirt as she straightened up. “Paparazzi.”

You felt your heart racing, the adrenaline sobering you up slightly. “What the hell was she doing in here? What if she already sent those pictures?”

Sevika ran a hand through her hair, her jaw tight. “We’ll deal with it,” she said firmly, her protective demeanor taking over. “No one’s gonna mess with us, baby. But for now, let’s get out of here before someone else walks in.”

She grabbed your hand, steadying you as you adjusted your skirt. The two of you left the stall cautiously, Sevika’s arm draped protectively around your shoulders as she scanned the room for any more unwanted eyes.

As you both exited the bathroom, you spotted the girl near the edge of the dance floor, trying to slip through the crowd with her camera clutched tightly. You didn’t even need to say anything. Sevika had already locked eyes on her, her jaw tightening as she began moving through the sea of people with purpose.

“Sevika—” you started, but she cut you off with a wave of her hand.

“I’ve got this,” she said firmly, her voice low and menacing.

You stayed close behind her as she pushed through the crowd with ease, her towering presence parting people like waves. The girl must have realized she was being followed because she glanced over her shoulder and quickened her pace. Sevika wasn’t about to let her get away.

By the time the girl reached the club’s entrance, Sevika was on her. She grabbed the girl by the back of her coat, stopping her in her tracks. The girl let out a startled yelp, but before she could say anything, Sevika leaned in close, her voice dripping with venom.

“You think you can snap pictures of us and just walk out of here?” Sevika growled, her grip tightening on the girl’s coat. “We’re going to have a little chat outside.”

The girl stammered, “I—I didn’t mean any harm! It’s just my job!”

Sevika didn’t respond. She simply dragged the girl toward the side exit, ignoring her weak protests. You followed behind, adrenaline coursing through your veins as the three of you stepped into the cold night air.

Once in the alley, Sevika shoved the girl against the brick wall, her arm pressed firmly against the girl’s chest to keep her in place. “Start talking,” she demanded, her tone deadly calm.

“I—I’m with The Pulse! I’m a paparazzo! It’s my job to get stories on celebrities!” the girl blurted out, her hands trembling as she clutched her camera.

“Do I look like I care about your job?” Sevika snapped, leaning in closer. “What did you think you were going to do with those pictures, huh? Sell them? Ruin her career? I’ll make sure you regret ever stepping foot in that club tonight.”

The girl shook her head frantically, her face pale. “No! I wasn’t going to sell them! I swear, I’ll delete them right now!”

“You’re damn right you will,” Sevika hissed. She stepped back slightly, giving the girl just enough room to breathe, but keeping her glare locked on her. “Hand it over.”

The girl fumbled with her camera, her hands shaking so badly she nearly dropped it. She handed it to Sevika, who shoved it into your hands. “Go through it. Make sure she deletes every last picture,” Sevika said, her eyes never leaving the girl’s terrified face.

You quickly scrolled through the camera, finding the incriminating photos of you and Sevika in the bathroom. “Here they are,” you said, showing Sevika before hitting the delete button. “Gone. All of them.”

“Good,” Sevika said, her voice cold. She turned her attention back to the girl. “Listen to me, and listen good. If I ever see you again—if you even *think* about taking another picture of us—I won’t be this nice next time. Got it?”

The girl nodded furiously, tears streaming down her face. “I—I got it! I won’t bother you again! I promise!”

Sevika stepped back, letting her go. “Get out of here,” she growled, her tone leaving no room for argument.

The girl didn’t need to be told twice. She bolted out of the alley, her footsteps echoing against the walls as she disappeared into the night.

Sevika turned to you, her expression softening as she placed a hand on your shoulder. “You okay?”

You nodded, still a little shaken but relieved. “Yeah… thanks to you.”

She smirked, pulling you into her arms. “No one’s messing with you on my watch, baby.”

You let out a small laugh, leaning into her embrace. “You’re my hero.”

“Damn right I am,” she teased. “Now let’s get back inside. I need another drink after dealing with that.”

You both headed back into the club, the tense moment behind you, but a newfound appreciation for Sevika’s unwavering loyalty warming your heart.

As you and Sevika walked back toward the entrance of the club, you spotted Vi, Caitlyn, and Jinx standing near the doorway. Their expressions were etched with concern, and Vi had her arms crossed, clearly on edge.

“What happened?” Vi asked as soon as she saw you, her sharp eyes darting between you and Sevika. “We saw you both rush out. Looked serious.”

Caitlyn took a step forward, her brows furrowed. “Did someone do something to you?” she asked, her voice soft but with an underlying firmness.

Jinx tilted her head, her usual manic energy subdued for once. “Who do I need to blow up?” she asked, half-joking, though you couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t actually follow through.

You exchanged a quick glance with Sevika, who shrugged, her expression unreadable. “It’s handled,” she said gruffly, as if that was enough explanation.

Vi wasn’t having it. “Handled? Sevika, you don’t just drag someone into an alley for no reason. Spill.”

You sighed, deciding to step in before things escalated. “It was a paparazzo,” you explained, folding your arms to mimic Vi’s stance. “She followed us into the bathroom and took pictures.”

“What the hell?” Caitlyn said, her tone tinged with disbelief. “That’s not just invasive; that’s downright illegal.”

“Did you get the camera?” Vi pressed, her protective instincts kicking in.

“Yeah,” Sevika said, her voice low and gruff. “She deleted the photos. Won’t be bothering us again.”

Jinx narrowed her eyes, a sly smirk forming on her lips. “She must’ve been scared shitless after running into you. I bet you threatened the hell out of her, huh?”

Sevika shrugged nonchalantly, but the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Maybe a little,” she admitted.

Caitlyn’s concern hadn’t entirely faded. “Are you both okay, though? That kind of thing can be… unnerving.”

You nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. “We’re fine. It’s just part of the territory, I guess.”

Vi still looked annoyed but finally relaxed her stance, shaking her head. “People are unbelievable. You can’t even have a night out without someone trying to pull this crap.”

“Exactly,” Jinx chimed in, now grinning mischievously. “Which is why we should totally get wasted and forget about it. Drinks on me!”

That earned a laugh from you, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit lighter. “I’ll hold you to that,” you said, reaching out to give Jinx a playful nudge.

Sevika placed a protective hand on your lower back, guiding you all toward the bar. “Let’s go. The night’s not over yet,” she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

As the five of you made your way back into the crowd, you felt a sense of comfort. Despite the chaos, you were surrounded by people who had your back no matter what.

When you and Sevika stumbled back into the hotel room, the door barely clicked shut before you burst into giggles, leaning heavily against her sturdy frame. The both of you were drunk out of your minds, but while you felt like the room was spinning, Sevika seemed to hold it all together, her usual calm demeanor intact despite the alcohol coursing through her veins.

You clung to her arm, your hands wandering as you pressed your body against hers, your lips brushing against her jaw. “You’re so… sexy,” you slurred, your voice heavy with desire.

Sevika chuckled, low and deep, her hands steady as they rested on your hips to keep you upright. “You’re the sexy one, baby. Can barely keep my eyes off you tonight,” she said, her voice dripping with warmth.

She leaned down to kiss you, her lips hovering tantalizingly close to yours, but you stopped her, placing your fingers on her mouth and shaking your head. “I can’t,” you whispered breathlessly, your heart pounding in your chest.

Sevika raised an eyebrow, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “Why not?” she teased, tilting her head as she looked at you with amused curiosity.

“Because… it’s gonna lead to more,” you said, your cheeks flushed and your voice shaky as your fingers trailed down her arm.

Sevika smirked, her thumb brushing against your cheek as she held your face gently. “I don’t mind,” she said simply, her tone deep and confident.

Before you could protest further, her lips captured yours in a kiss so passionate that it left your knees weak. You melted into her, allowing her to guide you back toward the bed. As the back of your knees hit the edge, you let yourself fall, sinking into the plush mattress as Sevika leaned over you.

Her lips left a trail of heat across your skin, from your jawline down to your collarbone, her hands expertly sliding off your shirt, and unclamping your bra. Her kisses became more insistent, her teeth grazing lightly against your skin as she worked her way lower.

Your breath hitched as Sevika made her way between your thighs, practically devouring your heat, her strong hands gripping your hips to keep you in place. “Fuck…” you moaned, your head falling back against the pillow as a wave of pleasure shot through you.

Sevika looked up at you briefly, her smirk returning. “You’re so damn perfect,” she murmured before diving back in, her tongue working magic as she made you forget everything but the two of you in this moment.

After she finally decided she was done with you, Sevika smirked lazily and stretched out beside you on the bed, her arm draped across her stomach as she let out a satisfied sigh. You were still catching your breath, your body warm and tingling, but you couldn’t help but glance over at her.

She looked utterly relaxed, her hair slightly tousled, and her lips curved in a faint grin. You shifted closer, propping yourself up on one elbow. “I wanna give you something in return,” you said, your voice soft but playful.

Sevika turned her head toward you, her half-lidded gaze meeting yours. “No, it’s okay,” she murmured, her deep voice raspy from exhaustion and contentment.

You narrowed your eyes at her, a teasing grin spreading across your face. “I’m gonna do it anyway,” you declared with a mischievous tone.

Before she could respond, you leaned over and kissed her, your lips pressing softly but firmly against hers. Despite her earlier protest, she didn’t hesitate to melt into the kiss, her hand instinctively coming up to rest on your cheek. The kiss deepened for a moment, the connection between you palpable.

When you finally pulled away, you didn’t stop there. You began trailing kisses along her jawline and down her neck, your lips brushing against her skin as you went. Her breathing slowed, and you felt her chest rise and fall steadily beneath your hand.

But just as you were about to continue, you paused, hearing something you didn’t expect—soft snoring.

You froze, lifting your head to look at her. Sure enough, Sevika’s eyes were closed, and she was out cold, her snores light but unmistakable.

You stared at her in disbelief, your mouth hanging open slightly. “Ugh… rude,” you muttered, rolling your eyes with a half-laugh as you flopped back onto your side of the bed.

After Sevika fell asleep mid-kiss, you sighed in disbelief, still hovering over her. You sat up, staring at her peaceful face, the corners of her lips still curved ever so slightly into a faint smirk even in her sleep. She looked ridiculously comfortable, sprawled out on the bed without a care in the world, leaving you to deal with her fully clothed state.

You shook your head, muttering, “Of course, she falls asleep like this.”

Deciding she needed to be more comfortable, you carefully sat up and began removing her boots. They were heavy, and you struggled to tug them off her feet. “God, Sev… you’re like dead weight when you’re asleep,” you joked, grunting as the second boot finally slipped off and clattered to the floor.

Moving on, you unbuckled her belt, sliding it off with some effort before working on her pants. Her dead weight made it an ordeal, and as you tugged at the fabric, you grumbled, “I swear, you could sleep through an earthquake.”

Finally, after what felt like forever, you managed to peel the pants off, leaving her in just her boxers. You chuckled softly at how peaceful she looked, completely unbothered by your efforts.

Next, you moved to her shirt, gently pulling it over her head to avoid waking her. As you revealed her toned torso and sports bra, you couldn’t help but admire her even in this moment. “Not fair how good you look, even when you’re passed out,” you teased quietly to yourself, tossing her shirt to the side.

Once she was finally stripped down to her sports bra and boxers, you adjusted her on the bed, tucking the blanket over her. “There. Now you’re comfortable,” you said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

You climbed back into bed beside her, exhaustion finally catching up to you. Despite her earlier “rudeness,” you couldn’t stay mad. With a smile, you snuggled up to her side, letting the sound of her steady breathing lull you to sleep.

- (ran out of photo limits 😔)

taglist : @moodient @whatlefoop @nonexistentsourcherry @graciebloom @swordfemm4 @m00npjm @sevikasleftarm @fayecreates @artfairyyyyy @mulan-but-gay @inlovewithsevikaandambessa @sapphiellar @fudosl @nanajustnana-a

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wildestdreamsblog · 9 months ago

Text

Might as well be drunk in love: 2 of 2 (sneakpeak)

Pairing: OT7 x Reader (CEO AU)

Summary: In which your friend thought it would be funny to give you a love potion, and in which seven CEOs accidentally drank it.

Warnings: Love Potion, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: This is only a sneakpeak of day 2. I'm not yet done writing the second chapter but I feel bad bcos of how long it's taking me...so here it is! Sneakpeak of day 1. Also, the entire chapter will be posted here when I'm done and satisfied with it :> Enjoy po

Part 1, Full day 1

“No one told me that we have an adorable new housemate.”

The six sleepy men sitting around the dining table looked up as soon as Park Jimin walked entered the room, in his arms was a fluffy cat that was actively hissing at him. He cooed down at it, softly stroking the thick fur with his hand that was now sporting claw marks.

“We’re already so close!” he announced with softness in his voice despite the repetitive kicks brought by the furry creature in his arm.

“I don’t think you are liked very much…” Jungkook quietly commented, his doe eyes went even larger at the bleeding scratches on his skin. As if sensing an opportunity to escape, the cat suddenly wriggled free from Jimin's arms and darted across the room, landing squarely in Hoseok's lap.

“Hi, my son! Did you have a good night’s sleep?” he asked affectionately, reaching down to stroke the cat's fur.

“Hyung has a secret son!” Jungkook whispered to Taehyung in a scandalous manner, clutching his nonexistent pearls. Taehyung, who looked like he lived and fought through three wars from his exhausted form and his sluggish movement only nodded at Jungkook.

“Whose cat is that? Is that yours, J-hope?” Jin asked, pointing at the cat with his mug. He didn’t know that they now had a furry housemate. Additionally, he didn’t know that he was a cat person.

Namjoon just smirked at his brothers, “That’s not his.”

“My God, I am so tired,” Jimin sat next to Taehyung, his muscles aching with exhaustion. With a heavy sigh, he leaned his whole weight on his friend, seeking some semblance of comfort in their shared weariness.

"Everything hurts," Taehyung moaned, mirroring Jimin's sentiment. He glanced over at Namjoon, pleading silently for a solution. "We need her. Hyung, please. Do something," he implored, his voice tinged with desperation.

Jungkook finally put down his spoon with a loud thud, standing up to look at them one by one. “Okay, I cannot be the only one curious about whose cat that is!” he pointed at the cat who only meowed back at him before shifting his finger to his hyung who was silently eating with a smile on his face. “And you, why do you look so good this morning, hyung, while the four of us look like we are 3 hours away from passing away?” he asked Yoongi, his doe eyes demanding answers from the chaotic bunch that only turned more chaotic as the morning wore on.

Yoongi, taking a leisurely sip of his coffee, raised an eyebrow at Jungkook's question. His lips curled into a smirk, revealing a hint of amusement. "Well, Kookie, some of us are just naturally blessed with good genes," he quipped, his tone teasing.

“Excuse me?! Are you saying that I am not blessed with good genes?! Me?! The world wide handsome?! Now, you’re just outright lying!”

“Hyuuuuung, do something! I think I’m dying!” Taehyung shouted amidst the noise.

“Stop screaming you’re scaring my son!” Hoseok shot back all while covering the cat’s little ears.

“Whose cat is that even?!” Jungkook asked again in disbelief, the vein in his throat protruding from annoyance and curiosity.

“Oh my God, Taehyung! I already did something, okay?!” Namjoon finally raised his voice for him to hear.

“Ahhhhhhh, my head hurts and she’s the only cure! I have to go to her!” Jimin whined sadly, attempting to leave his chair slowly.

“In that state?!” Jin shouted at Jimin and Taehyung, already feeling the stress causing havoc on his otherwise beautiful face.

But Taehyung and Jimin were already halfway out of their chair, clutching their heads dramatically. "I can't take this anymore! I need her!" he wailed, his eyes darting around the room with desperation only to find you by some miracle.

“Little one…” he called, his voice small as though he couldn’t believe that you were truly there. It was like their pain manifested you, and heavens, it was worth it. He’d willingly go through this pain if it meant seeing you and having you here where you belonged.

With them.

“Good morning, has anyone seen my cat?”

Your voice, despite it being low, was sufficient to stop the bickering among the CEOs. How they heard you amidst their own noise, you didn’t know. One thing was for certain, though. They were attuned to you like lovesick men did. Their eyes were on you with varying emotions. Jungkook was surprised, to say the least. Taehyung and Jimin, on the other hand, were relieved. Yoongi's smirk widened into a grin, his eyes sparkling with delight at the sight of you. Seokjin stared at you in disbelief, as if trying to comprehend how you managed to appear amidst the chaos. Namjoon and Hoseok exchanged a knowing glance, their expressions reflecting a sense of contentment and joy. The pair looked like they secured an extremely important deal and even won the lottery at the same day.

You didn’t see Taehyung moved but you certainly felt how his heavy body fell against yours. You certainly heard his sigh of relief even as he swayed on his feet.

And when you touched his hand to support him, that was when he fell.

#bts fic #bts ot7 x reader #yandere bts #bts yandere

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eroscomet · 2 months ago

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Picking Up Pieces That Aren't Yours

Chapter three- Closer

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Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Warning: Explicit, Warning 18+ content, swearing, fingering (Tara receiving), kissing.

Word Count: 2.3k+

A/N: Hey, lovelies, needed to update this real bad. BEAR WITH ME YALL, this is my first like smut that I have basically officially put out there. I hope you guys enjoy it and honestly, I was very nervous to post this update but I have left you guys starved of this story for too long. Making this chapter was a rollercoaster of emotions for me, I did not know that writing smut could be so bashful or even sheepish, but it really was. Good news as well, Make it Right will have an update soon! Very nervous to put this chapter out there but it was going to happen sooner or later. By the way, for future reference, this will be a g!p reader. Just letting you guys know that. Thank you so much for all the support and this one's for you guys!

Proof read.

Minors DNI

╰┈➤ Series Masterlist

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┏━━━✦❘༻♡༺❘✦━━━┓

Your head felt like it had been reeling since the moment that you and Tara were back in contact. You felt wrong for allowing her to get the better of you when she had been somewhat intoxicated. The guilt was practically eating at you because not only had you hooked up with her, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Throughout each of your classes, every time you tried to force yourself to focus on the teacher's words or even the work in front of you, all you could think about was that night.

Your mind was plagued by all that the shorter girl had become under your touch. It felt selfish to have done such a thing and still think of her this way afterwards. No matter how long you tried to shove every image of the girl that night, heat pooled in your lower stomach. It was undeniable. Yet, every time that you had been around the girl from then on, you felt the care for her far stronger than any lust. It was easy to create a fantasy of her but when it came down to it, face to face, all you could do was want to protect her and care for her any way that you could.

“You stare a lot.” Tara said with a hum, she hadn’t even been looking up. She was instead focused on the textbook in front of her, still she felt your eyes on her.

“Ah, sorry..” You replied bashfully as you let out a small breath. Part of you wondered if she had even remembered that night. Maybe she had been angry that when she woke up, you hadn’t been there.

The thing was that when you had woken up the next morning after that night, the more you stared at her peacefully sleeping face, the more guilty you felt for having let yourself lose control. You’d spent an hour that morning, wondering what you should do before having finally settled on leaving some water bottles on her nightstand as well as some pain-killers to take when she’d wake up to a headache she would be bound to have. You didn’t know whether she’d remember, so you left a simple note saying that you had taken care of her the previous night.

“I wasn’t saying that I was bothered by it,” Tara said as her eyes flicked up to where you were sitting in front of her.

“Oh..” Was all you could think to muster up in reply. Should you ask if she remembered? Should you wait until she brings it up? You didn’t want to be a dick and make her think that she was a simple hookup and that was all.

An awkward silence fell upon the both of you as the two of you continued to study. That was until the silence was broken by Tara.

“So…” She began as she scribbled some notes into her notebook, her eyes pried away from yours at all cost, “Do you remember-”

“Yes.” You replied, not even knowing if she was asking what you were thinking she was asking. Her eyebrow had momentarily shot up at the quick reply.

“You didn’t even let me finish.” She said with a light laugh, “Unless, something’s on your mind?”

“Uh,” Your throat suddenly felt dry as you tried to think of the right words to use, “What happened a couple of nights ago..?”

“Hm.”

Her reply seemed too dry. Maybe she didn’t want to talk about it? Maybe she was in fact angry at you for having left?

“What?”

“I just..thought you didn’t remember, that’s all.”

“Of course, I do.” Your reply felt pathetic to your own ears. It left you feeling as if you were desperate. Despite your inner thoughts, a small smile played on her lips.

A silence fell upon the both of you before you had spoken up again, “I’m sorry for leaving that morning. I didn’t know if you’d want to.. I don’t know. I guess I didn’t know if you’d want to remember what had happened.”

“I’ve always thought of you too sweet, that’s why I felt a bit suspicious of it.”

“I’m not the type to do that, I promise. I just thought it was more on your end… I was confused, you know? Confused if you think it's a one-time mistake.”

“Doesn’t have to be. I mean, I don’t think it was a mistake. I’m sort of…glad it was you.”

You felt your heart almost beat out of your chest at the revelation that you hadn’t thought about. It felt like what you had heard was a part of another restless dream where Tara felt the same way about you. For a moment, you were stuck in your thoughts as you contemplated whether or not this was a dream or a joke. That was until you felt your pencil being taken from your hand as you turned your head to look over at the girl, you were sure that now you had somehow died and been sent to heaven.

The look in her eyes, she was close enough for you to count every freckle that adorned her cheeks perfectly. The way her lips had slightly twitched as if she were about to speak but instead decided not to. The two of you spent a moment staring at each other, your face drawing impossibly closer to hers. The feeling of her breath mingling against your own, her eyes darted down at your lips allowed your mind to begin wandering places. Taking action to one of those many thoughts as you shut your eyes and leaned forward into a kiss.

After feeling Tara returning your kiss, you hummed into the kiss, leaning into the touch of her hand on your cheek. You felt weak, weaker than you ever had. It felt almost helpless the way that your mind couldn’t draw any other thought but the dark haired girl kissing you. Kissing you as if she wanted you just as badly as you wanted her. Your hands felt limp, futile to every attempt of moving them to not seem awkward. It felt as if Tara had been reading your mind because her hands had grabbed yours and guided them under her shirt.

“Wait-” You managed to mutter breathlessly as you pulled away from the kiss, “Are you sure about this?”

“Still as caring as ever. Gosh, yes, L/N, I’m sure.” Tara replied with a breathless laugh, slightly shaking her head. “Must you always be so good?”

A soft smile on your lips as you felt her own on yours once again before you could’ve replied to her words. You returned the now hungrier kiss.

“There’s nothing wrong with being good.” You had mumbled against her lips as you continued to kiss her.

She hadn’t replied this time, her hands simply guiding yours further up her shirt and to the curve of her clothed breast. Your fingers had toyed with the hem of her bra, a small whine came from her in response. Her hands moving away from yours and up your own shirt, feeling out the planes of your skin. Her fingers felt persistent, whereas your own took their time and were more gentle. Unaware of the girl’s growing impatience, your hand moved to the back of her bra, carefully unclasping it.

It had now hung loosely to her skin under her shirt, you took this as your chance to gently allow your thumbs to focus on the buds of her nipples. Immediately receiving a reaction from the girl, a soft whimper against your lips that felt all too sweet. Your mind had temporarily fled to the thought that someone else had too been in this position. You felt your gut slightly twist before pushing away the thought and allowing yourself to at least enjoy this while you can. While she had graced you with the opportunity to do so.

Your nimble fingers were quick against her buds, her breathing becoming ragged. Her mouth felt hot and wet, a reflection of your own as the kiss came to an end. Her eyes were fluttered shut as she allowed soft sighs to escape her, enjoying your touch. You’d seen and felt her back arch slightly with twitches into your touch. Her own hands had paused under your shirt, seemingly had lost its focus and purpose she’d once had with the touch. Quickly, one of your hands had left from under her shirt, moving to your lips where your tongue darted out to wet them before returning it to her nipple.

Tara’s head slightly tipped back at the newfound sensation you’d given her, your other hand moving down her abdomen to the hem of her sweatpants. You knew better than to tease the girl but you couldn’t help yourself, your fingers gently pressing against her clit over the fabric. The soft gasp that left Tara’s lips and the expression on her face made you want to examine every expression and sound she’d offer you with every touch you gave her.

“Don’t tease. Please.” She had breathed out ever-so-softly. Who were you to go against what she wanted? You wanted nothing but to please the girl of your dreams.

You were quick as you had carelessly pushed aside her notebook and text book that was on her desk. Swiftly lifting the shorter girl onto the desk, she lifted her hips slightly, giving you access to pull her sweats down. Your eyes were trained on her as you disregarded her sweatpants onto her bed. One of your hands pushed apart her legs as the other pulled aside her panties, not caring to remove them. You could hear every sweet sigh and soft whimper that escaped her mouth at your every touch, and it drove you completely insane.

A finger swiped through her folds, feeling the wet mess that she had become. You felt a surge of pride and a want– no, a need to give Tara everything she wanted. You allowed two fingers to delve past her folds and into pussy, a soft groan leaving your own lips at the tightness. A guttural moan leaving her, you watched as her head tipped back against the wall. Your fingers were quick, pumping to her every moan and obvious need with the way her hips had begun to buck against your hand. Your thumb pressing circles into her clit as your fingers continue to pump, your other hand raising her shirt to focus on her breasts as well.

With another lick of your fingers, you toyed and played with the bud of her nipple. You wanted to give her all the pleasure you knew she was deserving of. Your lips finding hers as you pulled her into a kiss, muffling her kisses that she now let out into your mouth. With the quickened pace of your fingers from each hand, you took note that it was getting harder for the girl to keep up with the kiss. You pulled away and immediately began working on peppering kisses against her neck, trying and finding her sweet spot. Your teeth grazed her neck as your mouth began to suck on the sensitive part of her neck.

You felt her back arching into you and her body buzzing and writhing with pleasure from your touch. Taking note of how Tara was getting closer by the way her moans and breath fell relentlessly from her lips.

“Close-” She managed to say, pairing with a broken moan which only pushed you to quicken your pace.

“Shit, shit, shit- I’m cumming!” Tara’s voice cried out as she shut her eyes tightly, her body uncontrollably shaking under your touch.

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A few minutes later and the two of you were sitting together at her dining room table eating pizza which you had ordered Tara.

“A true gentlewoman.” She said with a hum before

taking a bite of her pizza.

“Aftercare is important.” You replied with a small shrug as you took a bite of your own pizza.

“So, you're saying that you’ll stay longer?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Is that even a question?”

“Maybe you're right. I'll stay then.”

After the two of you had finished eating, you made your way back over to her room. Now, your arms wrapped around the shorter girl who buried her face into your chest. All felt calm, a stark contrast of what had happened about an hour or two earlier. You felt yourself wanting to stay in this moment, in the safety of the bubble you two created in her room. Tara was slowly falling asleep, you took it upon yourself to further soothe the girl by rubbing her back gently and pressing gentle kisses to her forehead.

“Thank you for this.” She mumbled softly against your chest, slightly muffled.

“You don’t have to thank me, Tar.”

“Tar. I always liked when you called me that.”

“I'll forever call you that if you want me to.”

“I’d like that.”

You itched to ask the girl what all of this meant. What your relationship was like now. Is it friends? More than that, friends with benefits? Maybe…it could be something more than that as well, lovers? You pushed down the thoughts and the itch to ask, wanting to not ruin this perfect bubble the two of you have created.

“Tell me something. Anything.” Tara murmured softly

“You're soft.” It was the first thing that came to mind and the first thing that fled your mouth. A small light laugh had escaped Tara’s lips.

“What’s funny?” You asked curiously.

“It’s just that… I'm not sure I've ever been called or described that way.”

“Glad to be the first, and it’s true.”

“You're sweet.” Her words made a soft smile creep onto your face.

“Look who’s talking.”

“Oh, you're just a flatterer.”

“Can we not flatter each other?”

“I suppose so.”

“Sleep, you're tired.” Your eyes scanned the girl’s face, she was obviously a bit drained. A hand came up to gently caress her face as the other one continued to rub her back. Which had lulled her further into a sleepy state, she only nodded at your words. For the entire time that you stayed at her apartment, you held her and whispered sweet nothings that you knew she couldn’t hear in her sleep, but whispered them anyway.

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A/N: I'M NERVOUS BUT I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED. Again, thank you for all the support and also look around for Make it Right chapter three coming out as well. Bear with me and this, this is my first smut published. However, I had to get it out of the way for upcoming chapters. Thank you all so much for everything, bye lovelies!

#jenna ortega #eroscomet #jenna ortega x fem #tara carpenter x female reader #jenna marie ortega #tara carpenter #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x reader #scream 2022 #scream franchise #scream movies #scream #Picking Up Pieces That Aren't Yours

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lulunothulu · 7 months ago

Text

“A Bullseye to the Heart” (Ch. 1)

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Latina Reader

Blurb: You were once the best female pilot at Top Gun. That was until a mission ended very badly. Now, 3 years later, you're somewhat healed and dating a man who takes advantage of your trauma. Now, you work at Hard Deck, the closest you could allow yourself to Top Gun, when your old friends come back... including a new guy you don't know; and to say he's intrigued by you is an understatement. But when your boyfriend decides to lay hands on you in front of him and your friends, all hell breaks loose.

Contents: Domestic Abuse, Swearing, bar fight, some fluff(??)

Word count: 3,160

I hope you all enjoy! I'll try to update it as much as I can.

Chapter 1

You never thought you would step foot in Hard Deck after everything that happened two years ago, never mind work there. It was oddly comforting and your therapist said it could help with the trauma you endured. So when Penny gave you a job as a bartender and server, you jumped at the opportunity.

Anything to be close to something you once loved.

You’re in the middle of cleaning out the dirty dishes bin when you hear the creaking of someone walking into the bar.

“We’re closed,” you say. “Come back at 8.”

“Oh, I’m not here for a drink,” a man’s voice says. “I’m here to see Penny. Is she in?”

You turn toward the voice to see a man in a leather jacket with multiple patches usually worn by naval aviators. His dark hair is perfectly styled and when he takes off a pair of aviator glasses, he exposes his hazel eyes.

“You must be Pete,” you said with a smile. “She told me you’d be coming around. She’s in the her office if you wanna go back there.”

He nods and makes his way toward the back of the bar. He stops at the entrance before turning to face you with a soft smile. “I’m glad you’re back, Y/L/N.”

Startled, you ask, “How do you know my name?”

“I work at Top Gun. I’ve heard stories and seen your pictures all over the place.” Pete smiles before turning serious and adding, “I really am glad you’re back. Admiral Simpson told me a lot of great things when he was your instructor.”

You take a deep but shaky breath before nodding, lips pulled tight before you say, “Thank you.”

You eye his jacket to see his rank and frown. “Captain?”

“Yeah, Captain.” Pete nods. When your brow lifts, he adds, “It’s a long story.”

“I’ll look forward to hearing it,” you smile.

“I have a new class starting up today, maybe you’ll see some of my guys,” he says. “You may see some familiar faces.”

And with that, Pete walks into Penny’s office, leaving you reeling and wondering who you’ll see later.

* * *

Later that night, Hard Deck is packed with Naval Aviators and civilians. It’s loud, chaotic, and joyful for the most part. People are playing pool, throwing darts, and having a great time getting drunk.

It reminds you of the good old days, back when you weren’t traumatized and living with an abusive man.

You’ve just finished putting a couple of beers in front of a group of civilians when you hear someone call your name.

“Y/N!”

You turn just in time to see Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, smiling ear to ear with his signature mustache sitting on his top lip.

“Rooster!” You exclaim. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

“Yeah, I’ve been assigned here for the next couple of months, some sort of mission. You know how that is,” he drawls, smiling to himself. He looks you up and down before saying, “You look good, y/n.”

You’re wearing a simple black, V-neck shirt with a pair of jeans and Converse. The compliment makes you smile and wave his comment off. “I’m sure you tell all the girls that.”

“Nope,” he smiles. “Just you.”

“So what’re you having, and how many?” you ask.

“I’ll have seven of your lovely beers,” he chuckles. “You should come over to the pool tables, Phoenix would love to see you.”

“My girl is here?” You ask excitedly.

“Of course. I’ll send her over for the next round,” Rooster says, watching as you expertly open all six of the beers quickly. “What time are you off?”

You check your AppleWatch before saying, “In about two hours.”

“Come meet us over there when you’re off,” Rooster smiles, pointing at the pool table across the way. “And Y/N, I’m glad you’re back in some way. We’ve missed you.”

“Thanks, Roo. I guess I’ve missed you.”

You watch as he walks off, noting the people he approaches. Phoenix practically breaks her neck looking in your direction, Coyote, Fanboy, Payback, and Bob smile and wave; and there’s another guy there you don’t recognize. He has sandy blonde hair, tanned skin, and an award-winning smile. From the bar, you can see his green eyes sliding over your body, checking you out. You cross your arms over your chest and cock a brow in question. When he waves at you with a cocky grin, you have to fight a smile from forming on your face.

It was cute but you’re taken.

Unfortunately.

You’ve been dating Nick Abernathy for the past year or two and while it was very fun and loving in the beginning, now you can’t stand to look him in the eye.

Not after what happened the last time you were at Top Gun. And especially not after how he reacted and treated you everyday after.

Speaking of the devil, you hear your boyfriend, call out your name to the left. “Y/N!”

You turn to see Nick, the man you once loved so much, smiling down at you. He’s all blonde hair and dark brown eyes, broad shouldered, and muscules; a naval pilot.

Your type. Again, unfortunately.

“What’s my favortie lady doing looking at those aviators?” he asks. To the untrained ear, it sounds like he’s being playful. But you know the truth, and you know you’ll hear–and feel–it later.

“Just some old buddies of mine,” you tell him.

“Right,” he says, eyes narrowing. He moves a hand, reaching out to grip your wrist. “I’ll be waiting to take you home after your shift.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you tell him, smiling sweetly to hide the growing dread in your chest.

“What kind of a man would I be if I didn’t drive my girlfriend home?” Nick seethes, looking beyond you. “Besides, I don’t like the way those aviators are looking at you.”

You turn your head toward where you know Rooster and the rest of the aviator group watch the interaction. Their faces are all hard, ready to defend at your ‘okay’. You send them a small wave and reassuring smile before turning back to Nick who is now practically red in anger.

“They’re just friends,” You tell him, fear begins to prickle all over your body. “I met them when I was at Top Gun.”

Before Nick can say anything, Penny comes into view, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Hey, can you stay another couple of hours? Pete wants to take me out and I can’t close early tonight.”

Relief fills you immediately when you reply, “Yeah, I can stay until closing.”

“Good,” Penny smiles. Then, as if seeing Nick for the first time, says to him, “Don’t worry about picking her up. I saw her drive here.”

Nick’s jaw clentches before he smiles, drops your arm, and responds, “Oh, I must’ve gotten confused.”

He turns to you before saying, “I’ll see you at home.”

Penny stays by your side until Nick finally leaves before turning you to face her and saying, “Go clock out. I’ll take it from here.”

“I thought you were–”

“I told him that so he would leave you alone,” Penny states, rubbing your shoulder. “Go catch up with Rooster and the gang. Just stay until closing so I can follow you home.”

“Thanks, Penny.”

You turn to leave, smiling to yourself and looking at the ground, when you feel someone’s eyes on you again. You glance in the direction of where Rooster and the rest of them are to find the green-eyed aviator that was checking you out before, staring.

Creep.

You clock out before grabbing a beer from Penny and making your way toward the group.

“Hey!” Phoenix exclaims at the sight of you walking closer. Then, pulling you into a bear hug, says, “Come here, Bullseye! I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Nat.” You smile, smoothing her hair when she pulls away.

“Bullseye?” the green-eyed aviator asks, Texan accent drawling and sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re looking at the most badass female aviator I’ve ever met,” Phoenix tells him. “The best at shooting too.”

“Is that why your call-sign is Bullseye?” he asks you.

You square your shoulders before smirking and replying, “Yes.”

“I’ll spoil it for you,” Rooster laughs. “She’s terrible at darts.”

“First of all, I was drunk!” you exclaim with a laugh. “I would’ve gotten that bullseye if you hadn’t bumped into me!”

“Mhmm, blame the alcohol,” Rooster teases.

“So, Y/N, who was that guy you were talking to?” Coyote asks.

“Yeah, didn’t look like a good conversation,” Bob adds.

“Um, my boyfriend, Nick,” you respond, feeling Green Eyes stare at you. “Soon-to-be ex.”

“Why soon-to-be?” Fanbooy asks.

“Just,” you trail off. “We fell apart.”

“Didn’t look that way from our angle,” Green Eyes mutters.

“I’m sorry,” You say, turning toward him. “Who are you?”

Green Eyes grins before outstretching a hand and saying, “Jake Seresin, Hangman. You can choose what you call me.”

“Hangman?” you ask, quirking a brow. “Like the game?”

“The one and only,” he responds coyly.

“You’re looking at the only naval aviator with one confirmed air-to-air kill,” Phoenix tells you. “He’s also a dickhead.”

“Oh, stop. You’re being too sweet,” Hangman grins. He turns toward the bar and frowns. “Isn’t that your soon-to-be ex?”

Your spine stiffens. You don’t have to turn to know that Nick is standing at the bar, eyeing you from one of the barstools. Your eyes widen when you see him throw back a shot of what you know is whiskey. He turns aggressive when he drinks so this should be fun.

“You okay there, Y/L/N?” Phoenix asks.

“I have to go,” You say, starting to walk toward him. However, you feel a hand on your arm and turn to see Rooster looking down at you, concern written all over his face.

“You’re not going over there alone,” he tells you. Turning to the group, he tells them, “We’re with her, I don’t like the way he grabbed her the last time he was in here.”

The group give affirming nods, all except Hangman.

“I’ve got this,” you tell Rooster. “He’s harmless.”

You knew it was a lie as soon as it left your lips and so did Rooster. His dark brown eyes narrow on you before he takes a swig of his beer and says, “We’ll be close by.”

You curtly nod before cracking your neck and handing Phoenix your beer. So much for relaxing.

You make the short walk to where Nick sits at the bar, feeling Penny’s eyes half on you and on another customer. Behind, you can feel the gaze of your friends as they watch you stand before Nick.

“What’re you doing?” You ask.

“I was about to ask the same thing,” he says. “See, I called the Hard Deck line and they told me you had clocked out. But I remember Penny telling me that you were staying until closing.”

“Nick–”

“Don’t,” he orders. “We’re going home. Now.”

“I don’t think so,” You boldly announce.

You’re just as surprised as Nick by the looks of it, so when he aggressively grabs your jaw and brings you close, you lock up completely.

“That wasn’t a request, Y/N,” Nick tells you darkly. His face is hard, you glance down at his hand by his hips and see that it’s clenched tightly.

“Nick,” You start. “Let’s just go. Let’s not do this here.”

“Why not? You don't want your buddies to see how much of a cunt you are?” he spits. “Let them see what happens when you try to act like you’re single.”

“You’re hurting me,” You softly say. Nick scoffs before frowning at something behind you.

Not something, but a couple of somethings.

“Let her go,” you hear Hangman say. His Texan charm all the way off and threatening.

“This has nothing of concern to you,” Nick spits.

“How about you let her go, and we won’t beat the shit out of you,” Phoenix says, her hand on your lower back in comfort.

Nick obeys, pushing you to the left and into the bar top harshly before taking a few steps toward Phoenix. You turn, watching as Phoenix stands her ground, not flinching when Nick tries too scare her by flinching forward. Rooster comes between the two of them, almost touching Nick’s nose with his own. The bar falls silent, all eyes on the interaction.

“Roos,” You start. “It’s fine. I’ll go home with him.”

“No,” Rooster says to you, eyes glued on Nick. “You’re staying with Phoenix until he leaves your apartment.”

“Rooster, I can–”

“That wasn’t a request, Y/n,” he booms. To Nick, he says, “Here’s whats gonna happen. You’re gonna leave and start packing your shit. When she comes home tomorrow, and we’ll be there to confirm, you’ll be out of there and her life for god. Got it?”

Nick smiles before tapping Rooster’s chest, hard. “So you were the one she used to fuck when she was an aviator. Tell me, Rooster, do you think she’ll open her pretty legs for you again?”

Rooster only smiles back before turning to his left where Fanboy and Coyote stand near you. “Get Y/N to the pool tables.”

Before they can grab you, Nick reaches out and squeezes your wrist tight before pulling you close to him. “You’ll have to peel her off me.”

“Let her go, I’ve called the police to remove you,” Penny says from behind the bar. “Your Captain won’t be happy to receive a call from jail.”

Nick clenches his jaw before slowly letting your wrist go and pushing you an arms length away. Before you have time to run into Coyote’s arms, Nick’s fist is flying toward your face in slow motion. When it finally makes contact with your cheek, you stumble, falling into someone’s arms and being dragged back before all hell breaks loose.

The bar is filled with shouting and the sound of glass shattering. And yet, all you can focus on is the way Rooster, Coyote, and Payback block Nick from rushing toward you. You’re so engrained on the commotion before you, you don’t hear when Hangman calls out your name.

Jake was a lot of things, but a hero was not on his roster. As soon as he saw Nick hit you, he went into full-on hero mode, pulling you into him and rushing you both to the pool tables. The look of shock paints your face as he watches you stare at the commotion before you.

I’m in deep shit if she wants to go over there because I’m not letting her out of my arms.

“Hey,” Hangman soothes. “Y/N, was it?”

You snap your head toward him and he has to fight to keep from sucking in a breath. Up close, you were gorgeous, even with that shiner growing on your left eye.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” You say, realizing who you’re sitting on and then standing from his lap. “I have to get over there.”

Hangman knew you’d say that so he stands with you, and shakes his head. “No, I don’t think Rooster would like that very much.”

“Well, it’s a good thing Rooster isn’t here,” You tease before breaking for a sprint. Only, you don’t go far because Hangman has his arms around your waist in seconds.

“You’re a slippery one aren’t you?”

“I just want to get Nick out of here,” You whisper.

Hangman searches your eyes, sensing every ounce of truth radiating from them. Matching you, he whispers, “Rooster’s got it handled.”

“Are you okay, Y/N?” You both hear Rooster say it but you don’t dare turn your heads toward him. Hangman’s eyes search yours again, wanting you to say something.

“I can take you to my apartment if you’d like,” Phoenix says to you.

You finally turn away from Hangman’s intense gaze and push away lightly. “Yeah, I think that would be best.”

“Penny said to leave your car here by the way,” Bob says, looking between you and Hangman.

“Sounds good,” you respond, turning to walk away with Natasha, arms linked. Before you both completely walk out of Hard Deck, you turn around to see Jake already staring with longing eyes.

Something about it makes you shiver and pull Nat closer.

* * *

Jake watches as you turn back around and smile at something Phoenix said, wondering what it was that made you smile. He turns to Rooster, who’s givinghim the most sly grin he’d ever seen.

“You like, Y/N,” Rooster states.

“You’re not wrong,” he admits. “She seems so familiar. Have I met her before this?”

“You’ve probably seen her picture all over Top Gun,” Coyote tells him.

“Wait where?”

“Oh, you know, the main entrance,” Bob says. “Literally in the classrooms… do you not pay attention to the walls?”

“She’s been through a lot,” Fanboy mutters before taking a sip of his beer.

“What do you mean by that?” Hangman asks. When he sees the others give warning looks, he adds, “What happened?”

Rooster sighs before taking a swig of his beer. “You remember that aviator that went missing a few years back?”

“The one they found half dead?” Jake asks. “Yeah?”

“That was Bullseye,” Bob quietly tells him.

“She was–” Jake had to stop himself from speaking. Anger and sadness filled is chest at the thought of what may or may not have happened to you.

“Yeah man,” Payback says, clapping Jake’s shoulder. “That anger you feel right now? That was us when we found out it was her.”

“She’s never told us what happened, not even Nat.” Rooster tells them. “It’s like she just shut that out. What we do know is that she never stepped foot on a tarmac ever again.”

“She couldn’t bear to sit in the box again either,” Coyote adds. “She had a full panic attack as soon as the glass went down. Rooster here had to carry her out.”

Rooster nods. “So whatever you’re thinking of doing with her, don’t.”

At that, Jake recoiled and frowned. “What makes you think I wanted to–”

“C’mon, Jake. I saw the way you look at her when she and Phoenix walked out,” Rooster drawls. “Y/N is the closest thing I have to a sister, so just please. If you do try to get with her, don’t. And if you manage to actually succeed, don’t push her. She’s strong but she can only take so much.”

Jake only nods.

His mind is swirling with questions he’s too afraid to ask.

What happened to you that made you so terrified to be in the box? Why were you with that asshole if you had so much trauma? Was Nick just a coping mechanism of sorts?

When was he going to see you again? And why does the though of seeing you again make his heart warm?

Hangman didn't know the answers, but he damn sure wanted to find out.

Next part

#glen powell #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman fic #hangman x reader #hangman x latina reader #latina reader #glen powell x reader #fanfic

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isawritesshit · 1 year ago

Text

The Color Blue - Chapter 1

image taken from @ lovevivianne on pinterest

Synopsis: As the only daughter to the leader of the Kamo Clan, you were trained and protected to one day bring your father honor through your marriage to the heir of the Gojo Clan. However, your husband ended up being something that your family never prepared you for. As you come to navigate a new world of politics between the clans, your husband convinces you that there is nothing wrong with honoring yourself too.

Warnings and Content: fem! reader and slightly ooc! (?) gojo (ig; i feel like i didn't write him as in character as i wanted), cursing, allusions to and anxiety about marriage consummation, themes of traumatized and anxiety-ridden reader, themes of forced/arranged marriage

Author's Note: Fuck me in the ass, it took me wayyy too long to get this out to y'all I'M SOOOO SORRY GUYS I DIED AND NOW I AM REBORN BACK AND SEXIER THAN EVER! Anyway, I'm at least happy to finally get this out for you guys because you guys gave me so much love for the prologue (mwah mwah). If you have yet to read the prologue, pleaseee do so! Provides some good context to the premise of the story. I'm going to flag once more that there will be themes of nsfw and physical/mental abuse down the line!

Word Count: ~7.3k

___________________________________________________________

"Are you afraid of me?"

He spoke. You masked your surprise easily. Did you look afraid? What made him suspect that? How do you answer?

Respond clearly. "No, Gojo-sama. Apologies if I seem at all startled in any way. I am taking in my new surroundings," you replied with a slight incline of your head towards him.

Satoru's eyebrows raised a little. It was the first time he had ever heard your voice. As he suspected, it was graceful and beautiful, but still so sad. And what was with the honorifics? He waited a second for you to say something else, but nothing came. "Do you like it? The house that is." Satoru figured the only way to get anything out of you was to ask himself.

He asked you a question. Respond clearly. Tell him what he wishes."Yes, your home is beautiful Gojo-sama. I'm very fortunate to be living here as your wife." Your words sounded exactly the same, clipped and poised to perfection like the small smile you had on your face. Your skin was cold despite the amount of fabric that covered it, but you refused to shiver. You refused to tremble despite the fear you were feeling. Yes, you had trained and prepared yourself for this. You would be fine.

Satoru only cocked his head and crossed his legs, observing you like a painting from where he sat on the couch. "Thank you." His voice conveyed his usual charisma, but the look he was giving you did not. He sighed as you only bowed your head again and said nothing. He could tell you were afraid, you just didn't wish to admit it. Was it stubbornness or nervousness that had you standing like that before him, looking both strong and weak at the same time?

After a few moments, he spoke again, this time with a little more calmness and reassurance. "I don't bite, y'know." Not a word left your lips at that. You didn't even move. It was like he had a statue standing in a wedding dress in the middle of his foyer. Not a statue, a corpse, with unfeeling, empty eyes. Maybe you weren't happy with the current situation. "Did you like the reception? I'm sure you had input in the planning."

Take this chance to show your worth. "I planned the entire reception, Gojo-sama. I hope it was to your liking." You clasped your hands even tighter as you waited for his reaction.

Satoru raised his eyebrows. "Oh, wow. I'm sorry then, I'm sure you liked it because you put it all together. Well, uh, I definitely enjoyed it, and I'm sure everyone else did too. You did a great job. Uh, thank you," Satoru chuckled. He meant every word. Planning an event of that nature must have been a daunting task and you had done it all on your own. You must be pretty independent.

"Of course, Gojo-sama. It was my duty," you replied with another bow. The fear in your gut subsided at his words. It seemed he could be won over by acts of service.

Duty. That's when it clicked in Satoru's head. You saw this as 100% a duty. Well, it wasn't like he didn't see this arrangement as a duty too, but it had always been more than that to him. It was both a duty and an enjoyment. At least, that's what he hoped it would be for the both of you.

He said nothing for a few moments. You didn't move. He could tell by the uncomfortable silence that the household staff was probably listening from somewhere nearby. Perhaps that also made you uneasy. "Let's head somewhere more private," Satoru murmured, and stood from the couch.

Private? A chill ran down your spine that worsened when he made his way over to you. Were you both going to-

You remained silent as he took your arm gently and led you up the steps of the grand staircase. He moved slowly, watching and searching you for any indication of emotion or feeling, but you gave him none. He cleared his throat before speaking once more. "That outfit seems uncomfortable. I'm surprised you've been able to wear it all day."

Your mind was running circles around his words, but you didn't show it. Is he going to offer to take it off me? Why is he being so gentle with me? Where is he leading me? A bridal chamber? A bedroom? "It is not uncomfortable, just a little heavy," you responded, forcing yourself to keep your voice even. "The tailors did a fabulous job with it."

Satoru hummed and muttered his agreement. He would take this as slow as possible. He knew that the first thing he would have to do was make you comfortable. "I see. If you would like, you may change out of it, and I can take you on a tour of the rest of the estate. Or, you can sleep if you're tired."

This seems like a test, you thought. Which option would he prefer? "I can change and join you on a tour of the home," you responded. "If that is what you wish of me."

Not exactly the answer he was looking for, but an answer nonetheless. "Alright. I'll show you your bedroom. It's apart of my rooms of the estate. I hope that's alright," he said as he guided you towards a set of double doors down the hall.

Satoru stepped before you to open the doors himself, a few staff members walking out past. You assumed that they were finishing their cleaning for the night. You could tell a few of them looked at you as they passed, though you never looked up to meet their gaze.

You could tell these were Gojo's chambers, as they were decorated somewhat differently from the rest of the house. While the entire house had a more contemporary feel to it, his part of the estate added western styles to it: gray and white furnishing, an upstairs that led to an open second floor balcony overlooking the first floor living room space, comfortable carpeting, and a woodsy, homey scent. There was a dining area and billiards further to the right to entertain guests. Truly a home within a home.

Satoru led you up the stairs, watching as you looked over the second floor railing into the living room. When you reached the top, he gestured to the first door on the left. "This is my bedroom here, in case you ever need to find me," he said as he moved you two forward. "And this one is yours." He opened the next door over.

Satoru let you step into the room first. "I wasn't sure what you would prefer in terms of the color of the room and everything, so I had a few of my staff design it for me. Do you like it?" he asked, a slight guilt to his tone. He felt bad that he knew almost nothing about you. He didn't even know where to start when he began planning to incorporate you into his home, but he figured an inviting bedroom would be a start.

"Yes, very much so" you replied. The room was bigger than your one at the Kamo estate. The furniture was made of oak wood, with the room itself having accents in white and various shades of purple. The canopy bed was plush and had silk sheets. Most of your attention was drawn towards the bookshelf in one corner, which already had some of your books as well as many new ones. The closed curtains, which had little butterflies sown on them, had moonlight escaping into the room. The wall to the right had another door, which you assumed led to the bathroom and closet. "Thank you for arranging this for me, Gojo-sama."

You moved your gaze down as you turned to face him. "Of course," he chirped.

Silence once more.

He sighed audibly. "You're gonna hurt your neck if you keep looking down like that, pretty girl. Especially with that monstrosity on your head," he said softly as he approached you. You stilled, jumping a bit as Satoru reached his hands forward to grasp the top of the headpiece. "Shh, I'm not gonna hurt you, okay? Just taking it off for you," he murmured when he saw you tense up. He removed the headpiece gently, letting your hair fall. He resisted the urge to touch the soft locks upon seeing them unbound, and instead opted for setting the headpiece on a side table. "There. Feels a lot better, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Thank you, Gojo-sama." You still didn't look at him. After a pause you asked, "May I go change now?"

Why did you ask for permission? "Sure," he answered, a little confused as he watched you retreat into the bathroom. He stood awkwardly in the room as he heard you shuffle around behind the door. He sighed and leaned against the bed. What was it that had you so... uptight? Why wouldn't you relax?

Meanwhile, you made yourself busy undressing and slipping out of the heavy fabrics of your wedding garb in the bathroom, hanging up the piece and choosing a simple, flowing dress to change into. You looked into the mirror once more, and paused.

You had forgotten about the white lace lingerie your handmaidens had forced you into while dressing you this morning. A provoking technique, they had called it. It was beautiful, the entire ensemble having been comprised of silk and lace with little flowers adorning it, but you felt incredibly uncomfortable now that you saw yourself with it on. You felt more like a prized ham, wrapped up and ready to be eaten. And that is my responsibility tonight-

Your thoughts were broken by the sound of movement coming from the room. Right. He's still out there. You thought back to how he had taken off your headpiece. You couldn't help but be frightened for a moment, but then the way he removed it had been... gentle, as all his other actions toward you had been.

You were used to men like him: large, imposing sorcerers, with big egos and even bigger amounts of cursed energy. However, when any of those men came close to you, maybe even to just put a hand on your shoulder, their touch was also gentle, but not in the way Satoru was. They were gentle and domineering. Satoru had been both gentle and considerate.

But what he had called you...

It still felt like he was trying to get something out of you. And you didn't like it.

You slipped on the dress over the lingerie, letting the soft velvet material warm you as the skirt ended at your ankles. You had always liked this evening dress.

Satoru's head shot up when he heard the door click open. You stepped back into the room, ready to be led. Your apparel took him aback at first. He had expected you to choose something comfortable, a t-shirt and leggings at least, but you still came out dressed like you were going somewhere. You looked beautiful though, and he supposed it was nice to see you in something that wasn't clan-styled regalia (didn't matter that he was still wearing his outfit from today).

Satoru said nothing as you took his arm and let him lead you into the estate. Although he didn't look directly at you, he observed your movements. Beautifully robotic was the way he could best describe it. But why?

Then it dawned on him. The wedding had been ceremonial, so your actions there he could ignore, but everything after... it was like you were still in the ceremony, even in this moment. He saw it firsthand when you said your goodbyes to your family. You would be seeing them so much less now that you were married, yet neither of your parents nor siblings hugged you or expressed any emotion when sending you off.

Then finally with himself. You never looked at him. You complimented him at every opportunity. You asked for permission to go get dressed.

He could never get you to relax. To be comfortable. It was like you were being monitored by some invisible camera that he couldn't see and that you feared.

Duty. 100% a duty.

He looked down at you once more as you walked down the hallway, eyes trained ahead. Yes, those eyes had been his first sign, he realized. For what once held liveliness and curiosity in youth had been replaced with a senseless, dull husk of what he remembered.

Something had happened in those seven years since he last saw you. He felt sorry for you.

He felt sorry because he felt like this was somehow his fault.

But that wasn't going to stop him from trying to be the best he could to you.

___________________________________________________________

An hour later, Satoru had shown you about half of the estate, everything between recreational rooms, kitchens, dining rooms, and his own personal office. Yet, as he talked, you seemed disinterested, elsewhere.

The both of you were on the first floor, walking down a hallway with floor to ceiling windows on the left wall.

"There's not much left to show you, or at least anything that's interesting anyway. If there's anywhere else you'd like to..." Satoru's voice trailed off when he looked at you again, staring out of the windows as you passed.

There. You looked out the windows toward the estate garden, your eyes wide, glittering, and curious. He opened his mouth and then closed it. You looked like a little girl staring at a new doll in a toy store. Finally, something that he could read from you that you refused to hide. Wonder and interest.

Satoru stopped walking when the two of you reached a set of glass doors that led outside. "Do you want to see the garden?" he asked, almost chuckling when you nodded eagerly. "Let's go then." He opened one of the doors to let you through, watching you with amusement. You still kept your face neutral, hands folded over your chest as you stepped out into the open air before walking, practically running, over to the vast flower beds and trees across the lawn.

He just stared as you bursted with this sudden childlike excitement. So you can be won over somehow. Satoru laughed under his breath, a small smirk on his face as he went to join you. You started by walking between bushes, running your hands along any part of the plants as you could. He never would have guessed that you were interested in plants, but now that he thought about it, it made sense. He could see you being the type of girl that's interested in feminine things. Things like dresses, books, and maybe even chocolate desserts. Things like flowers.

You were kneeling next to a bush of blue hydrangeas as he approached. He thought you looked perfect like this, the moonlight playing off of your hair, skin, and dress while you ran your fingers along petals. However, when you realized he was getting closer, you quickly got up and returned to how you were in the foyer: standing straight, hands clasped, and head bowed. It stopped Satoru in his tracks, but also made him understand a little more of how you worked.

You must see a husband, him, as an authority figure that you have to please. Satoru didn't know why. Maybe your family pushed you to be a good wife, but now you're just taking it too far. You must be able to relax when you're comfortable, or when you're alone. That had to be it. Right now, you seem to view this place as comforting, so he had to be the same.

And if he seemed to make you feel uncomfortable, he would leave you alone.

But first, he had to try to get through to you.

"Do you like gardens?" Satoru asked, even though the answer was really fucking obvious.

"Yes, Gojo-sama," you replied. "I like flowers and plants. They are a great enjoyment of mine. Your garden is the most magnificent I have ever seen."

It was the best Satoru had ever seen too, but at this point, he couldn't tell if you were lying to him just to make him happy. He took a step closer and huffed a little. "Y'know... you don't have to call me that. I mean, I'm your husband, not the emperor," he chuckled, though he was dead serious. Laughing through it was the only way to show that he wasn't mad at you. "Why do you like flowers? Or these ones in particular?" He gestured to the bush that you had been admiring.

If you were nervous or scared, you didn't show it. You seemed to be pondering for a moment as you looked at the bush. "I... don't know. Flowers have interested me since I was a child. I used to keep up a garden at home."

A garden that you'll never get to take care of again, he realized. "Well, if you want or... if you need something to do, I can have someone show you where we keep our gardening supplies. You can do as much or as little as you like of course."

Your eyes lit up at the request. "That would be lovely, Gojo-" He could tell you were about to add the "-sama" at the end, but stopped yourself. He still smiled at the way that you seemed to beam in the current setting.

"What other things do you like? Do you have any hobbies?" Satoru asked, watching as you continued to run your hands along the plant.

"I like music," you stated.

"Really? You play any instruments?" He proceeded to raise his eyebrows as you listed a slew of different types that you knew how to play, though you added that piano was your favorite. "What else?"

"I like... cooking, and cats, and," you settled one of the hydrangeas in your hand, "the color blue."

Satoru hummed in response. He felt like he was getting somewhere. "Really? Well in that case, I guess I should've had your room be that color."

"Purple is still just as nice," you replied with a small smile. It was brief, but he could tell it was genuine. It took his breath away. It was almost embarrassing, this effect you were having on him.

"Yeah, I guess." Satoru dared to move a step closer to you. He could see you tense, and decided this was as far as he would get. Maybe now was the time to get some answers out of you. He watched your hand continue to rub the petals. "How do you feel about... all of this. Really."

"Your garden is dazzling-"

"No, I mean our... situation. Be honest with me," he said gently, but the way he worded it almost made it sound like he was pleading with you.

You paused before answering. Your hand stopped moving. "This marriage is just as important to me as it is to my father and the Kamo name. I will do right by him to ensure that it succeeds. And not just for him, but for you as well." Your tone was light and sophisticated, your voice sweet as can be, but it still felt fabricated. Rehearsed. Satoru wasn't buying it.

After a few moments, he decided to try something a little bold. "Look. I'm not your father, okay? And this isn't the Kamo estate. You don't have to be so... restrictive around me. I know this is, like, your first time ever talking to me, but I'm not some authoritarian." He almost regretted the words when he saw your guilty face. "But of course, that also means I'm not going to control the way you act. You can do whatever you want, say whatever you want. It's all fine by me." Silence again. "(Y/N)?"

You seemed... confused. Satoru spoke again. "Are you feeling alright? All I'm saying is I want you to be comfortable here. If that means... not interacting with me as much, then I get that."

Still nothing.

Satoru sighed. Maybe he needed to take a different approach. Maybe he just needed to leave you alone for a while. "If there is... anything else you want to see, I can show you. Otherwise, I'm going to go to bed. You can stay out here as long as you want..." he said softly. He began to turn away from you, listening for your movements as he started to walk inside. You only walked from your spot and moved further into the garden.

The halls echoed with the sound of his footsteps. That went... much differently than expected.

He thought back to fantasies he used have of what this night would look like: learning more about you, showing you around the estate, laughing with you until both of your stomachs went numb.

Kissing you for the first time in that garden, and, if you wanted it, carrying you back to his room in seconds.

But as he thought more about it, Satoru realized just how unlikely those scenarios would have been, especially with the current situation. He speculated that your behavior was a combination of your familial expectations, anxiety, and the fact that you were meeting him for the first time. Not to mention, he knew he wasn't the most approachable-looking person in the world.

This was going to take some time. He would let you get used to the house first, get used to seeing him and the other staff around. Then eventually, you might begin to open up to him once you felt safe.

Or you might not talk to him at all.

Satoru really hoped it didn't come to that.

___________________________________________________________

Some time ended up being much longer than what Satoru thought you would need. It had been a week since you last spoke, and you made no effort to approach him.

He did get some semblance of a routine you kept. You were definitely a busy body, always up and ready with a full breakfast waiting for him on the dining room table before he was up (although, since he had the following two weeks after the wedding off, he was sleeping in later than normal). By the time he was finished eating and getting ready for his day, you had gone halfway through your daily routine, which included cleaning and managing the state of almost every room in the whole building. Once that was finished, you prepared lunch, taking your portion out to the garden to eat. The rest of the day you used for your own recreation, usually something along the lines of taking walks, reading, or taking care of different parts of the garden. Of course, you still had time set aside to make him dinner before you stayed in your room for the rest of the night.

Just noticing the things you do throughout the day was a source of admiration from him alone. Satoru knew that the kind of work he did would be considered maddening and dangerous, yet he accomplished everything with ease. He couldn't help but think of you in the same light. You completed the same tasks everyday without fail or signs of fatigue (gods know he could barely clean a fucking toilet without gagging). He noticed that the meals you cooked were not just chosen randomly, but instead were meant to be perfectly balanced in terms of nutrition while still complimenting every bite he took. In other words, fucking delicious. Satoru knew he wasn't a bad cook either, but you made five star meals like it was no one's business.

He would see you often around the house, your skirts or dresses flowing as you flitted about. He could tell you favored modest clothing, usually in either knee to floor-length dresses, or blouses with skirts of the same length. Your makeup was simple, your hair always done up and clean.

Whenever he was close enough to you or entered a room you were in, you always bowed politely and addressed him, never saying more than was needed, before returning to whatever it was you were working on. Satoru knew if he asked, you would sit down and have a conversation with him or eat with him, but he wasn't going to push it. He wanted to be sure it was something you were okay with.

Yet hours and days dragged with almost no change. What was meant to be your two week honeymoon break passed, and Satoru had to return to his missions. Somehow you had already known what time he gets up to eat, and, just like almost any other day, there was a breakfast waiting for him.

No sign of the person who cooked it, though.

Satoru decided he couldn't take this anymore, the awkwardness and silence. No, he was going to find you and asked if you wanted to eat this breakfast with him.

Luckily, he found you in the kitchen putting away dishes you had just finished washing. "Good morning, (Y/N)," he said, trying to sound as polite as he could without frightening you.

You must have been lost in thought, because you jumped when he said your name and turned towards him.

Head bowed. Eyes down. Hands folded.

He was tired of it.

"Good morning, Gojo," you replied. "I hope you had a restful evening last night."

"I did..." he said. "I was just... wondering if you wanted to eat that delicious-looking breakfast you made with me. You're allowed to say no, of course." He felt stupid having to add that last bit.

"Apologies, Gojo, but I already took my breakfast this morning, but I sincerely appreciate your offer." He felt his stomach drop inside him a little. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"No, it's fine. I'll be home later tonight." He tried to keep his tone from sounding disappointed. He couldn't be mad at you for eating before he asked you. However, Satoru wanted to end the conversation positively, with something not so... stale. He turned to walk to the door, looking once more over his shoulder at where you still stood. He opened his mouth once, closed it, and then opened it again. "You look gorgeous today, by the way."

That surprised you. Not the words necessarily, nor the fact that these weren't your best clothes, but the way he said it. Like he meant it. It stirred something in you. You decided to look up at him, but he was already gone.

A while later, Satoru was dressed and ready to go, his car parked just outside with the AC blasting. He walked down the grand staircase... with you waiting for him at the bottom.

You were waiting for him. He paused in front of you once he reached the bottom of the steps. You had assumed your usually stance, but... he could tell you wanted to say something.

"I... realized that I never asked what you would like me to make for dinner for when you return..." you said as if you were just realizing that you were standing here, and you needed to make up an excuse.

It tugged at his heartstrings a bit. You had never asked if he had a preference for dinner, so... this was you trying to approach him to start a conversation. "Well, whatever you want to make is fine. You're such an amazing cook. I would never not eat anything you make," Satoru exclaimed with a small smile before leaning in a bit as if telling you a secret. "But, if I must request something, I reallyyy like mochi desserts," he whispered before pulling away. "But you didn't hear it from me."

Your small smile and barely noticeable laugh made his heart explode. Pride swelled in his chest. So you have a sense of humor in some regard...

He smiled and walked past you to the door, walking through before-

"Gojo," you called from across the room. Satoru turned at the sound of you calling his name.

"Have... have a nice day today..." you said, giving him a small bow.

His eyes widened in surprise before he flashed you a grin. "You too, pretty girl." And just like that, he left, the door shutting behind him.

Satoru was trying to do his best not to holler in excitement on the other side of the door. You went out of your way to meet him at the front door and ask what he wanted for dinner and told him to have a good day? He felt like a middle school girl. A stupid smile plastered itself on his face as he walked to his car.

And stayed for the rest of the day after.

___________________________________________________________

The next few weeks went just the same: him waking up to breakfast that you sometimes stopped by to eat a few bites of, you saying goodbye and asking what he wanted for dinner at the door, and him coming home to that meal in the evening, which you occasionally ate with him also.

Satoru felt pretty spoiled if he was being honest. He never liked those mysogynistic views on gender roles, especially when it came to the roles of a husband and wife, but he was now understanding the appeal. He had assured you a few times that you didn't need to have something home cooked and ready for him each time he came home, and that he was just as fine with takeout, but that never stopped you. He knew it was serious, if not a little concerning, when he asked for a three-tiered Danish cake for dessert as a joke and you had made two because you, in your words, got bored and had the time. He didn't even know he owned the cooking supplies needed to do that. Nevertheless, to say he ate most of that within a few days would be an understatement.

As time grew, Satoru had been able to observe you more closely. There were the normal things, like the type of books you liked to read (mostly poetry), what time you liked to take your walks (sometime between 3:00 and 6:00pm), and what days you went to the grocery store and farmers market (Wednesdays, if he's correct) despite household staff insisting to him to tell you to stop because it was technically their job. He could never find himself to do so.

Then there were a few... less fortunate things. You still don't look up at him, for starters, and your voice still retained that proper, unnatural tone. Besides the times where you say goodbye to him in the mornings, you always observe and never speak unless he speaks to you. You have a cell phone, but you almost never use it, so he assumed you probably have no friends that you contact, or even family that wanted to contact you for that matter. Lastly, among a few more things, you always try to sneak an ice pack from the fridge some nights when you think he can't see it in your hand as you walk back to your room with it. He never knew what it was for, until he saw it on your neck while you read in the library, something he had to peak through the doors to see.

You get neck pains because of the subservient posture you forced yourself to have around him, and Satoru started to think just how far back this training you had been given goes. He knew that you couldn't get neck pains from bowing if you've only been doing it for a month.

One day, he brought the situation up to Yaga as they watched some student sorcerers training out on the grounds. "You really don't know the kind of backwards training the Kamos put their girls through?" Yaga asked, fixing a stitch on one of his jujustu dolls. "I thought you knew what you were getting into, especially since you're in one of the clans yourself."

"Well, I'm starting to see it," Satoru says with a wince. "I just don't know how to get her to... relax, I guess. Act normal, y'know?"

"Do you think she even knows how?" Yaga mused. Satoru went still. "The Kamos are traditionalistic; their customs span all the way back to the Golden Age of Jujustu as a way to preserve the glory of that time period. This includes how they train their... females."

Satoru furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't know much," Yaga said, a piece of the string in his mouth as he adjusted a stitch. "The kinds of things like how to please a husband, how to raise kids, how to behave around authority figures, which includes men. Weird stuff like that. And if (Y/N) is Arao Kamo's only daughter that was betrothed to marry the Six-Eyes wielding Gojo clan head, you can expect her to be well educated in that regard."

Satoru sighs. He felt stupid for not looking into that, for chalking it up to some kind of anxious defense when it was much more than that. "I'm a real fucking idiot."

"Yeah, well, while that may be true, there's not much you can do but give it time. With the kind of stuff she was brainwashed to believe, the least you can do is give her some patience," Yaga said, finishing up his patch.

"True, but that'll take forever," Satoru groans, looking out at the young sorcerers sparring. "She won't do anything unless I tell her to. She doesn't know what it's like to just... have some sort of free will."

"Then maybe show her what's like to have one," Yaga says with a groan, settling back into the bench they were sitting on.

There was a pause before Satoru chuckled. "This is the one time you've actually given me advice that I considered listening to."

"Good. You should, otherwise I'll send you on another mission from this weekend," Yaga grumbled.

"Fine, I'll listen."

___________________________________________________________

That next day, Satoru planned on asking you about something when he saw you before he left.

"Hey, pretty girl," he quipped with a smile as he walked down the stairs, enjoying the slight blush that formed on your cheeks, something he had noticed the past few times he called you that.

"Good morn-" your gentle words were cut off by a sudden cough and a sniffle that caught his attention. He stepped in front of you.

"Hey, are you alright? Is your throat okay?" he asked, his usual teasing tone replaced with one of concern.

You seemed to pause for a moment before speaking. "I'm alright. Something caught in my throat is-" You coughed again, this time more aggressively as you turned to cover it.

Satoru's brow furrowed. He gently pulled your chin so you could face him again. He felt your forehead with the back of his hand. "You're burning up, (Y/N). You probably have a fever."

"I can assure you, Gojo, I feel-" You gasped as you were suddenly lifted into his arms, his hands resting underneath your back and knees as he walked you back up the stairs. He smiled a little when he felt you throw your arms around his neck.

"Please don't lie to me, (Y/N). How long have you been feeling like this?" Satoru asked calmly as he carried you to your room. You looked down at the floor.

A pause. "About the past two days." Satoru sighed.

He opened the door to your room and set you down on the bed. "Hold tight, okay? I'm just going to go grab some things..." He left and returned a few minutes later with an ice pack wrapped in a towel, some medicine, and a glass of water.

Setting the items down on your bedside table, Satoru started by ripping two pills out of their packaging and handing them to you with the water. "Why have you been walking about like normal when you've been feeling this way for the past two days?"

You took a moment to take the pills before answering. "I am well enough to complete my usual routine, so I saw no need for rest. I had the staff prepare your meals to make sure you did not catch my illness," you replied weakly, trying not to cough.

Satoru shook his head. "But we have people hired here to do those tasks anyway. You still need to take care of yourself." Your brow furrowed.

"But I'm still-"

"Don''t fight me on this," Satoru butted in. You lowered your head, eyes despondent. "I don't mean to say I don't appreciate what you do every single day. Really, I really appreciate it. But I don't want you doing anything when you're clearly feeling like shit."

"My apologies-"

"Don't apologize. Please." Satoru's mouth tightened when he saw the ashamed look on your face, the way your shoulders caved slightly. He spoke again, this time more smoothly. "I'll call Yaga to cancel my appointments for today. Just let me take care of you... and don't feel bad about it. Okay?"

Satoru didn't care that he was almost begging with you, but he needed you to understand that that's all he really wanted right now. To take care of and cater to you for a change instead of you constantly doing so for him.

"But, you might get sick too..." His chest tightened a little at the guilt you displayed, your tone of voice, the slight whine in it.

"That's fine. Just means I don't have to go to work longer," Satoru chuckled, moving to sit on the edge of the bed next to your legs. "But don't think that's the only reason I'm here with you now, of course."

Your lips moved into a small, downturned smile as you huffed a laugh. You weren't even smiling in full, yet he thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

A sharp, painful sounding cough from you broke the silence. Satoru handed you the water again, propping another pillow behind your head. Once you finished, he took the water from you and handed you a woolen blanket that you had resting on the end of your bed. "I'll get some lozenges for your throat and some tissues. For now, just rest for me, okay? I'll come back to check on you, but if you need anything just yell. I'll be in my room," he said as he adjusted the ice pack onto your forehead.

"Okay," you whispered. You looked almost... stunned. Like you never expected this. It made Satoru sadder than he would like to admit.

After a few seconds, he stood, turned off the lights, and shut the door quietly. He walked away right before the sound of your soft cries reached the door.

___________________________________________________________

Satoru looked after you for the next two days, making sure you took medications and got proper rest. Even when you were well enough to get back on your feet, he still made your meals and brought you ice packs and popsicles at night for your throat.

He apologized the first few times he served you food, scratching the back of his head and laughing. Sure, his grilled cheese and tomato soup wasn't bad, but it was embarrassing compared to your culinary genius. You never replied, looking back at him with a perplexed expression.

Satoru noticed this, and he had his suspicions as to why you may be confused. Because you had been living with him for the past month and a half, he was able to easily discern what your looks meant, or at least, what he thought they meant. Your confusion was not necessarily because of actual confusion, but rather, because you weren't used to gestures like this. It was a little disheartening, of course, but slowly, you began to accept them with a small smile and nod of your head. It put him at ease to see you that way.

Now was the third day Satoru stayed home to be with you, and because you seemed to be doing much better, he knew this would probably be the last day he would have to do so. Thus so, he wanted to make the most of it.

It was early afternoon when Satory began to approach your room. You had taken to sleeping in while being sick, and if there was one thing he had definitely learned from this time with you, it's that you could sleep when you weren't waking yourself up at a certain time. He found it cute, and somewhat surprising.

He snuck into your room as you slept, gently placing the reason he came in on your bedside table: a vase, with those blue hydrangeas in it. And just as he was about to walk out, you called his name.

Satoru stilled and turned slowly. You were staring at the flowers on the bedside with a haphazard, exhausted look on your face. God, and just when he thought this moment couldn't get any more precious...

"Fuck, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. Goddamn, and I had it all planned out too! Having you wake up to flowers, I was just gonna get cracking on some blueberry pancakes and everything-"

"Oh... are we celebrating something?" you asked, looking between your hands and the flowers.

"No, 's just because. Unless there's something you want to celebrate? Happy your-fever-decreased-from-103-to-101 day?" he chuckled. "Anyway, I'm going to attempt to make pancakes even though I'm ass at it. Hope you're okay with Frosted Flakes as a fall-back option." Satoru turned towards the door again. This woman has him adding blueberries to his pancakes-

"Satoru...?"

He paused, stopped, buffered, restarted. Did you just call him Satoru? His brain was running laps around the replayed sound of your voice in his head as he turned. He was elated, estatic, down-right jolly, one might say.

And then all that was thrown out the window he faced you completely, and you were looking right at him.

Head up. Eyes bright. Smile... paragon.

"Thank you... for taking care of me."

Satoru knew you weren't just talking about this past three days. He felt like a five year old boy laying his eyes on you again for the first time as he, the ever so confident, swaggering, and teasing Gojo Satoru, flushed. "Yeah, no, it's no biggie, you deserve it cause you do so much and you're my wife so I kind of have to and-" he bumped into the door behind him, "fuck, you know what? I'm just gonna shut up and go... pancakes... haha, yeah..."

This poor man Satoru turned the corner and facepalmed, shutting your door behind him while your small laughs could be heard from the other side of the door. Running a hand through his hair, he tried his best to compose himself while he walked away, but then your face flashed in his mind again, and it was like he had a buzz that reached from his brain down to his whole body. He was smitten.

Once he reached the kitchen, soft music playing from his phone, he searched up that pancake recipe. While he began to get out ingredients, there was a knock as someone entered through the doors that led to the rest of the estate. One of the household staff.

"Sir, there's a guest at the front door," the woman stated.

"Who?" Satoru asked as he leaned over the counter while scrolling through the recipe.

"Arao Kamo, sir."

Fuck.

___________________________________________________________

tags: @leonora13x @cole-silas @feeiry @mysuperrainbow @tw0fvced @emptybrain01 @xixiwang @drilled-brain @lvieee @xxkoyukixx @we-loveebony @sereniteav @ilovecoyotepeterson10 @baby—vera @jebemticeluporodicu @louannfox

I love you guys

#isawritesshit #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #female reader #anime #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #arranged marriage #forced marriage #principal yaga #guys I did it

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slttygeto · 5 months ago

Text

༉‧₊˚. PLAYLIST

༉‧₊˚. episode 06: temptation's tangle

preview: ". . . “What’s the occasion?” “Being hungry?” You glare at his sarcastic comment and Hanma shrugs his shoulders with an amused grin. “What? You don’t trust me?” “Exactly, I don’t.” “Well just to remind you, we agreed to be fuck buddies so–”

“For fuck’s sake–” . ."

content warning: suggestive content, abandonment issues, hanma is a d!ck but what's new.

word count: 5,4k

➜ ┊: @softshuji @mitsuwuyaa @kariatenoh @reiners-milkbiddies @citrusteaa @bejeweled-night-33

➜ MASTERLIST

➜ note: yet another chapter woohoo!! this one's a bit exciting for me because we get to see new characters appearing in the reader's life. and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

Saturdays were for resets. You didn’t like to go out that much during the weekends, so it was a hassle to reject your co-worker’s offer to go out for drinks the night after a long week of exhausting and intense work. You would much rather stay inside, go over your to-do list and look around your place to see which area needed the most cleaning. The kitchen was definitely a mess, but your room? Good lord. Your room looked as though a hurricane had passed and devoured it before spitting it out.

No matter how much you tried to be organized, you always found yourself with a mess on the floor, half of your makeup on your vanity and the other half in the bathroom along with a bunch of shoes lined up next to your entrance. You puff out some air as you stand in the middle of your room.

“I really need to get my shit together.” Have you said these words before? Absolutely.

Will you probably say them again in two weeks? Oh, of course.

But right now, you need a distraction from what happened two days ago–something that quiets down the voice that keeps nagging you to grab your phone and check if he sent a message, if something had changed. You recognized that you were being a walking contradiction–between promising yourself to be mad at him and loathing him only a week ago, to suddenly wishing he was in your bedroom, pinning you to your mattress and drilling his cock into you–yeah, you were a mess.

It’s not like you didn’t have a vibrator, or hands! Your hands did an amazing job at fulfilling your needs, you knew where to touch yourself, how to stroke your pussy in a way that had your back arching and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. A sigh would then escape your lips, a needy one because nothing felt as amazing as a mindblowing orgasm after teasing yourself for so long. Your hips would then buck up, and your hand is rubbing very messily at your poor clit before you cum with a loud and long moan–

“Shuji–!”

You snap out of it so fast, jolting up away from your bed and blinking at your reflection in the mirror.

What the fuck?

A grown ass woman–one who gets action…not that often, but still enough to fulfill her needs, daydreaming about a man whom she slept with once? It doesn’t make sense. Or maybe it does, you're too deep in denial to admit that the person you've been longing for is the same man who shaped parts of your teenage years, even if it was only for a short time.

The heavy sigh that leaves you is so loud that it bounces off the walls of your empty apartment. So vacant, but it reminds you how Hanma’s short yet dominating presence was enough to make it feel…less hollow. You hated how he filled the void that you had been long wanting to replace, whether it be by decorating your space with greenery or going on pottery dates with friends or even getting your cat more toys just to watch him run around the apartment–the loneliness was hard to swallow. You despised the feeling, it gripped you by the throat and forced you to remember the framed pictures sitting on the shelf above the TV. Friends, family, co-workers–you were made of pieces of them, each having given you a memory to cling onto and use it as a lifeline.

What do you do when that lifeline is barely hanging by a thread?

Your eyes land on the singular picture that rests on your nightstand, and your frown deepens for a moment as realization hits you. The two people in this picture were supposed to stay with you for a long time, your protectors as they liked to call themselves. You purse your lips and inhale deeply. The bitter aftertaste sitting on your tongue is hard to wash down.

You were perfectly fine being shaped by bits of everyone you'd ever met, but weren’t your brothers meant to be there for life?

“Here, keep this on you all the time.” You stare at the shiny knife as your oldest brother places it on your nightstand, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and you’re forced to close your book.

“A knife?”

“Yeah, it’s for your safety.”

“Ran, why would I need to carry a knife with me?”

“You never know,” you’re not sure if that’s meant to comfort you—probably not.

Ran Haitani is very proud of the fact that he had adopted you. Technically, his parents did–but he hated them, and they abandoned you a long time ago, so it was he who adopted you. He remembers you being a tiny baby in your mother’s arms the day that she had picked you up from the adoption center, said something about how she was so excited for this new chapter of her life, and both Ran and Rindou were excited–over the moon to be welcoming a little sister. At 6 and 5 years old, they didn’t know what blood related meant– it never mattered to them in the first place even as they got older. You were a Haitani, their precious little sister, and that meant the whole world to them.

However, the bond grew a little bit stronger after your parents left. Your father was the first to abandon the family, you were 5, Ran was 10 and Rindou’s 9th birthday was approaching. You remember it being a cold day–it wasn’t gloomy outside or anything, but as you sat in the middle of the living room with your brothers by your side, the apartment felt a bit bigger, emptier. A child is fragile, anything can affect them if not dealt with properly–the absence of your father was the first time you had to experience your ‘big feelings’ as Ran liked to describe them. You don’t know what holding back tears is, so you cry as you hug your knees to your chest and let Rindou soothe your back with a gentle hand. It’s a small gesture, but enough to anchor your stuttering breaths.

“It’s okay,” Rindou says as you sniffle. When you look at him, you see that his eyes are glossed over with something–tears. He blinks them away as soon as he catches you staring at him. “It’s not like we need him, right?”

“Of course not,” Ran speaks confidently, standing over you and Rindou with a superhero-like stance. “As long as you’ve got me, nothing will happen to you!”

“And me!” Upon seeing his older brother act like a superhero, Rindou quickly jumps up and stands next to him. It’s adorable, it gives you hope–your little child body, so overwhelmed with emotion and having to deal with the abandonment of a parent temporarily distracted by the two boys standing in front of you.

“I’m Sailor Uranus,” Ran extends one arm outward with his fingers splayed, while his other arm is bent at his side. He shares a look with Rindou, trying to mask his wobbling lips. Rindou averts his gaze, cheeks set ablaze with overwhelming emotion. Sadness, embarrassment mixed with determination to make you, his little sister, feel better even for a few moments.

“And I’m Sailor Neptune!” Rindou extends his arm forward, with his other hand pointing slightly upward towards you. Your heart swells with emotion, and you bring your arm to your face to wipe your tears.

“I..I’m Sailor Moon!” You join in weakly, and for a moment—(just a small one), everything seems okay. You have your brothers with you, recreating your favorite characters’ pose and trying to cheer you up. Just for a split second, you’re distracted from the ache that invades your heart and spreads all over your chest.

But distractions are bad. Like a bandage on a leaking dam, offering a false sense of control while the real flood builds behind them.

You had always looked up to your mother. It’s natural for a child to have an innocent fascination with one particular parent—after your father left, your mother had become everything to you. Now that you look back at it, it was definitely fear of being separated from her. Losing her so unexpectedly like you did with your father. You would sit in the living room waiting for her to come back from work, whilst Ran and Rindou were outside playing and didn’t necessarily mind the absence of their mother. They were older after all, and perhaps were able to see her for who she truly was earlier than you did.

“She’s not going to come back on time,” Ran announces from behind you. You don’t move, still looking out of the window and waiting for her silhouette to appear. “You have to eat.”

“No,” you don’t mean for your voice to crack, but alas you’re a child and you cannot control your emotions. You wear your heart on your sleeve and the hurt you’re feeling from your mother’s repetitive tardiness is very apparent. “I’m not hungry.”

As if to mock you, your stomach growls the moment you say it. And Ran sighs behind you before approaching you.

“No–” you push him away when he wraps his hand around your arm. “I won’t eat–!”

“Rindou hasn’t eaten all day,” Ran’s voice is stern. It momentarily distracts you from your stubbornness and your bottom lip starts wobbling. “He doesn’t want to eat without you—so please,” his voice is now barely above a whisper and your eyes meet his own lavender ones. The sob you choke out is raw, painful–you can’t hold it back any longer and you fall forward, attaching yourself onto your older brother. The taller boy holds you, rubbing soothing circles on your back as he heaves out a sigh.

No child deserves to go through this.

A few months later, you get accustomed to seeing your mother less often. By the age of 10, Ran and Rindou had managed to make a name for themselves around the area–the rulers of Roppongi. You choose to ignore the events that led them in juvenile detention, you don’t necessarily associate that with great memories but life feels… simple.

Whilst Ran brings the food and takes care of anything money related, Rindou is the one who is in tune with your emotional needs. He holds you in his arms when you are sad and caresses your head when you’re upset after a particularly nasty fight with Ran. Rindou reminds you of the importance of the rules that they had given you when they started ruling Roppongi, that the way you dress is very important as a Haitani—their little sister.

You carried that with you through adulthood.

The walls of your apartment have heard you cry for them, felt your sobs and longing. It’s strange how your apartment only knows of their existence through pictures, like ghosts they've never seen in person. Like hearing the echo of laughter in an empty room—faint and distant, yet it lingers, reminding you of the voices that once filled your childhood.

You are filled with sadness and melancholy and longing—you feel ready to burst like a heavy rain cloud but somehow, you find the strength to hold it all in whilst darkening everything beneath you. Whilst the past few years have been one of the most important ones in your life, you can't deny that with every person you encountered, the shell guarding your heart grew tougher. Like armor forged over time.

It’s useless to grieve the past, you can’t let it distract you from the task at hand, so you grab your vacuum cleaner and get to work.

Hopefully you’re done before sunset.

–

Ding dong

The digital clock on your microwave flashes 8:12PM in red, bold colors. You did your usual cleaning, showered and dried your hair, planned an outfit for Monday and were checking on some work you needed to do before the week starts. Who would visit you at this time of the day?

None of your co-workers had texted you all day, and you were hoping that they weren’t here to try to convince you to go out. Saying no to them the first time was hard as it is.

“Shoooo,” you tell your cat as he races you to the front door. “Go away, you can’t get out,” you mumble to your fur companion as you place him on his cat tree and watch as he digs his claws into the plush fabric before running away to your room.

Ding–ding ding ding!

“Coming! I’m coming,” you rush to unlock the door, forgetting to check through the peephole. As you open it, you get a whiff of a familiar perfume and a tall figure is standing a little too close to you.

“Wha–”

“I got dinner.”

Of course it would be him.

He stands before you in all his glory. Brand new suit, messy hair (he must’ve had a long day) and shoes that definitely looked less shinier than usual. You try not to stare too hard at his body, fight the carnal urge that tells you to keep your eyes a little longer on his thighs and lean against the door frame with your arms crossed over your chest.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Being hungry?” You glare at his sarcastic comment and Hanma shrugs his shoulders with an amused grin.

“What? You don’t trust me?”

“Exactly, I don’t.”

“Well just to remind you, we agreed to be fuck buddies so–”

“For fuck’s sake–” you yank him inside your apartment and Hanma almost lets out a giggle at how flustered you looked. “You need to stop saying shit like that in my hallway.”

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“People could hear you,” you shoot him a glare as you walk away from him. Hanma doesn’t miss the chance of checking out your ass in your tight booty shorts. He licks his lips and follows right behind you, plastic bags rustling as he places the food on the kitchen counter.

“What did you get anyway?” You ask as you sit back on the kitchen table, nose shoved deep in your laptop as you continue your work. You’re far too focused on the words in front of you to notice that Hanma had quieted down and was now fully staring at you–taking the sight of you and placing it at the forefront of his mind.

Despite having seen you naked before, Shuji thinks that you look the most attractive like this. Like the adult women that you matured into. He can’t remember the last time he saw you this concentrated—(was it when he snuck into your room as teenagers? He found you sitting at your desk, nose buried in your homework that you didn’t even notice him opening your window after he had climbed your fire escape). He can’t say he doesn’t like it. The smallest details stood out to the same man who claims to be nonchalant about everything else–the slight pout and frown to your lips, eyebrows furrowing and eyes darting across the screen, pausing briefly to take in each and every word. You wear glasses now.

(And glasses look good on you, they make your nose look cute).

A sigh escapes your lips and as you inhale, you finally catch his stare. Intense like a spotlight, analyzing your every move and pinning you in place.

For obvious reasons, you feel tense under the weight of his golden eyes fixed on you. Exposed, stripped of any secrets you hadn’t even dared to write down in your diary. Hanma’s eyes had the effect of unraveling every guarded truth, as if his intense gaze alone could coax confessions from the deepest corners of your soul.

Like how you touch yourself to the thought of him.

You avert your gaze towards the bag, growing uncomfortable with the suffocating silence.

“So?”

“Ramen.” You almost deadpan at the man. It’s fascinating how he can shift the tension in the room just by spilling out a few words.

“You bought ramen??”

“Am I not allowed to?” He pushes himself off of the kitchen counter and starts walking towards you.

“When you said I got dinner, I thought you meant a meal,” you take off your glasses and place them on the table before staring at the bag tiredly. “That’s an unhealthy meal, Hanma.”

“That’s what I get for dinner, usually.”

“You’ve got money.”

“Your point?”

“Go to restaurants??” you say in disbelief and Hanma shrugs his shoulders as he stands next to you, enjoying the obvious height difference. One that reminds him of how big his hands looked on your thighs that night.

“Tooooo much work,” he drags out his words before stretching his arms over his head. The action elicits a yawn out of his lips and you scoff before grabbing the bag and emptying its content on the table. “Besides, what’s so bad about having instant ramen?”

“It’s unhealthy,” you reply flatly, reaching for the electric kettle. You fill it up with water before pressing the ‘on’ button, the action coming to you so quickly and naturally that it makes Hanma raise an eyebrow.

“Hey, you turned it on a little too fast for someone who thinks instant ramen is unhealthy,”

“Because this is my kitchen?” The reply you give is laced with sarcasm, absolutely done with whatever he has to say and all Hanma does is just stand back and grin. How fun.

“Right, of course,” you avert your gaze the moment Hanma’s fingers wrap around his tie, loosening it to allow himself to breathe a little–feel comfortable in an apartment that has already welcomed him twice already. Does he remember the layout? Not exactly. However, his brain is able to trace the map from your kitchen to your bedroom like a professional cartographer. The detail was etched in their mind, like a name carved into stone.

So he makes himself comfortable, he walks past you and into the living room and you watch as he sits on your couch and stares around your decorated space.

“Is that a cat tree?” he points at the item sitting near the window.

“Mmmh,” you hum in response, pouring water into the instant ramen cups. “Why?”

“ ‘s just that I’ve never seen your cat,” he looks around, trying to figure out where your fur companion might be. “But I see signs of that fucker everywhere.”

“Don’t call my cat a fucker.” You almost hiss and it catches Hanma off guard. Not that it was the first time you ever spoke to him in that tone, but you must be very attached to your cat.

“Whew,” he whistles as he raises his arms in the air.. “My bad. Didn’t know you were that kind of person.”

Your eye twitches.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you pause on your way to the living room, the cups of ramen were starting to burn your hands but you could care less.

“Y’know, getting all defensive over an animal?”

“You mean have empathy and emotional connection?”

“Emotional connection with a cat?” Hanma braces himself forward with his elbows on his knees. His side profile comes into view, but he quickly turns to face you and he sees the way you were slowly losing your patience. “That shit is for people who are lonely.”

It is eerily silent after that. For a good five seconds, Hanma doesn’t seem to understand why you give no reply nor do you make a move. He looks away, pats his pocket to find his phone and turns to look at you. You are still glued to your spot.

You hope he doesn't hear the sound of your heart breaking, or notice the way your body instantly deflates.

“It must be.” Your reply is devoid of any emotion. You look away from Hanma’s intense gaze, suddenly growing uncomfortable under all of the attention he was giving you. As you take a seat on the couch (while maintaining a good distance between you and the tall man), you push Hanma’s cup towards him.

“Here.”

“Thank you.”

Hanma doesn’t feel comfortable with the silence. It bothers him that he doesn’t.

You try not to pay attention to him, but it turns out that it’s a hard task given how huge the man is. He spreads his legs on your couch, leaving you almost no space, so you have to nudge his thigh with your knee.

“Move, you’re taking up too much space.” You’re still avoiding his gaze, and Hanma’s finger twitches as he reaches for his ramen cup.

“I’m a tall man, doll.”

“Don’t care, you’re sitting on my couch.” You say it with a hint of childishness, your tone laced with annoyance.

Hanma chooses to let it slide and slightly closes his legs, allowing you more space on your small couch. However, your behavior still doesn’t sit right with him. You're not truly aware of your surroundings, even though it may seem like you are—one moment you’re holding your chopsticks, the next you’re looking for the remote control. Hanma watches as you jab at the noodles with your chopsticks, seemingly unfazed by the steam rising from the cup.

“It’s hot.”

Be careful.

“Ah!” you hold a hand to your mouth, your chopsticks falling on the surface of your coffee table. Your eyes are pricking with tears, and you fan your mouth whilst internally cursing yourself for not paying attention.

“Told you it’s hot,” he sounds unbothered—perhaps a little bored, but still reaches for your face to grab it. You don’t fight back despite the urge to get away from him—from his touch. His rough hand holds your jaw like a rag doll and you force yourself to open your eyes. “Open up.” He takes notice of your swollen lips, then you stick out your tongue and it’s reddened.

In that moment, you realize there's no space left between the two of you. Any distance you tried to maintain with the tall man has vanished, and you let it happen—you let yourself forget why you're mad at him, giving your mind a break from the constant tension around him.

Everything quiets down, you instantly find yourself lost in the same gaze you had been trying long and hard to avoid. You feel hot—you are sure Hanma’s body feels like a furnace against your skin. However, like two flames flickering inches apart, you both burn with the same heat but never quite touch in a way that would have you melting like a candle.

It’s a continuous tug of war inside your brain as you hold his gaze, your pulse quickening with each subconscious attempt at moving closer to him—even by an inch. Technically, the two of you were now fuckbuddies, two friends who fuck when the other is free or one is feeling like it. There were no strings attached, no responsibilities, no—

“Ya hungry?” Hanma’s voice is a few octaves deeper. You feel a chill run down your spine before making a poor attempt at shaking your head whilst he’s still holding your jaw.

You feel a pair of lips against yours, and you take it as a response to what you had told him.

Hanma’s kisses are rough—he pushes his entire body on top of yours as he kisses you, trapping you beneath him.

You’re glad the cushions beneath you are soft, because the way he pins you down is anything but.

Dominating and playful, he moves his lips against yours in such a dizzying manner that you have to tap his shoulder to ask him for air. But even when he pulls away from your lips to allow you oxygen, his lips land on another patch of skin—your cheek, your jaw, his teeth nibble at your earlobe and he can feel his cock throb when you buck up your hips.

“Impatient, aren’t we?”

He presses his forehead against yours and you grow annoyed. Frustration washes over you as you realize you crave more of him, even though you know you shouldn't allow the man so close or invade your personal space. Yet, here you are, yielding beneath him. His kisses are like a wildfire in your veins—once it ignites, it spreads uncontrollably, and no matter how dangerous, you can’t help but feed the flames.

And feed the flames, you do.

Hanma has never seen you so eager, so needy—sure he’s fucked you before, he’s nestled his cock so deep within the snug walls of your pussy but this–

This was different.

You’re craving him—his lips against yours like a lifeline. Not once has he seen your body move so desperately against his own whilst your clothes are still on. It makes the muscles of his face twitch.

Smirking, he grabs the back of your thigh and pushes it up to your chest before leaning down—face dangerously close to yours. He doesn’t say anything, eyes scanning your expression—the twitch to your lips, the slight furrow to your eyebrows and the sigh that escapes through your nose from how needy you are. You throw your head back against the couch, nudging Hanma’s butt with your free foot.

“You’re staring.”

“Am I?” His tone, his words—they make the butterflies in your stomach erupt like wildfire. You can only afford to whine in response, clearly struggling to take his teasing. He is so dominant— to the point where submitting to him was the only choice you had. As you lie beneath him, Hanma is like a cat playing with a string, effortlessly toying with your patience and leaving you both frustrated and horny.

Incredibly horny.

“Shuji,” you reach your hands towards his face, holding it and brushing your thumbs against his cheeks. You brush your nose against his, your teeth sinking into his bottom lip so softly—so gently that it makes him chuckle.

“You’re gentle with it,” he breathes hotly against your lips, digging his fingers into your skin to show you how rough he likes it. You’re about to push him off of you, straddle his lap and show him that you can be rough with it. It feels like a treat you’re craving, it’s attached to a string and Hanma keeps pulling it away from you every time you’re about to have it—

A loud moan escapes your lips when he’s back on you so suddenly, not giving you enough time to breathe or ground yourself. Gripping his shoulders, Hanma enjoys the feeling of your nails digging into his skin—it ignites his body on fire and heightens his senses. The tall man grows more aware of your body temperature, of the vanilla body lotion you had freshly applied onto your skin or how you seem to be letting your nails grow longer—he’s locked in.

“Oh doll,” he breathes out against your lips as he pulls away. You’re about to moan in response, rile him up further until he’s snatching your clothes off your skin and dig his cock deep into your insides–

“Fuck!” Hanma shouts–no, he screams out of nowhere and is pushing his body off of you. “What the fuck?!”

“What–what?! What’s wrong?” you’re confused, a little startled as you push yourself up with your elbows.

“Motherfucker–” you hear hissing from the end of the couch, and you look behind Hanma to find your cat sinking his claws into his back. “Let go of me!”

“Calm down!” you try to separate the two, get your cat off the couch and Hanma to stop reaching for the back of his blouse.

“How the fuck am I supposed to calm down when this little fucker–I will fucking–”

“I said calm down.” you repeat sternly. Your hands reach for your cat’s paws, although he hisses at you, you still understand that it’s a normal reaction for him. Standing up, you grab your fur companion who tries to wriggle out of your hold and he comes face to face with a furious Hanma.

Your cat hisses again.

“The fuck is his problem?”

“He’s not used to strangers,” you caress your pet’s head, sensing that he’s on high alert. “Let alone men.”

“Your cat hates men?”

Your face twists. “My cat isn’t a misandrist.” You roll your eyes at him. “He just… doesn’t appreciate men.”

“Fancy fucking word–”

“Anyway, I’m taking him to his room.”

“This fucker has a room?”

“Technically it’s my office.”

Hanma watches as you walk away with the fur companion who meows very loudly, making his dislike towards the man very clear. He hears you try to shush the pet, promise it good food and treats as long as he behaves and if Hanma didn’t know any better, he would think you were crazy.

Maybe you were. He would never show that much patience towards an animal.

But now he is able to process what has happened. Assessing the situation, the realization that he got cockblocked by a damn cat hits him like a truck and he sits there, dumbfounded and half offended.

Cockblocked by a fucking cat.

You walk back into the living room, looking a bit embarrassed and Hanma takes it that you had come to the same conclusion as him. You stand next to the couch, awkward and stiff and your hands are fiddling with the fabric of your shorts before you open your mouth.

“I-”

“Don’t even.”

Hearing his bored tone, you deflate and sigh before plopping next to him on the couch. You were now drier than the Sahara and he didn’t seem interested in rearranging your insides as he was a few moments ago.

Well, you still have your food to finish.

“Want me to heat up your food again?”

“Mmm, sure.”

—

Hanma plans to leave as soon as he’s done eating. It’s almost hilarious the way he grabs his jacket the moment he slurps the final noodle into his mouth and you don’t have it in you to ask him where he’s going.

After all, it wasn’t part of your agreement. Despite the fact that you didn’t even fuck properly tonight, you still knew that his business wasn’t yours to know and his presence was always going to be temporary.

“The elevator’s working by the way,” you are throwing the cups of Ramen in the trash when you suddenly speak up and Hanma has to pause his movements.

“They fixed it?”

“After paying a huge sum of money, yeah they did.”

“That’s good.”

“Mmmhm.” Cold and distant, this is how you want to present yourself to the same man who has no problem taking your heart in his hands and shattering it into small pieces.

“Next time I come over, I hope that fucker doesn’t dig his nails into my ass next.” Next time.

“I’ll make sure we fuck on my bed then.” You say playfully, bringing the glass of water to your lips and Hanma watches as you maintain eye contact the whole time.

“Oh yeah? Already planning the next time we gonna fuck?”

You shrug your shoulders. “You were good. I’d be a fool if I said I didn’t want it again.”

Hanma chuckles, offering his signature smirk with a tilt to his head. “Good? Not great, or fucking amazing?”

“Good.” You put emphasis on the word, but the tall man notices how you avoid his eyes and it’s an indirect confession.

“Sounds like you want me to change your mind.” Squeezing your thighs at the sound of his deep voice, you almost moan in relief when you see him start to take off his jacket.

Fucking finally.

“Maybe I do.”

—

The November cold was unbearable. The man shivers inside his own car and his hand reaches towards the heater to turn it on. He doesn’t understand why he is here, it was too late for him to be parked under a residential building and he sure hopes he doesn’t look suspicious with the way he keeps checking for the door.

“Come on, come on…”

Almost on cue, the door opens and a tall figure walks out. Hair messed up, clothes half adjusted and a cigarette hanging off his lips. It was none other than Hanma Shuji. The man watches as the criminal checks his phone for a good ten seconds before blowing out smoke, his chest stutters a bit as he scoffs and he shoves the device into his pocket before walking towards his car.

Hanma doesn’t seem to notice the unknown car and the mysterious man is grateful for that. He wants to avoid problems.

However, how was he going to explain his sudden visit at 11:30PM?

He shouldn’t…or perhaps he should.

When you open the door, your eyes are heavy with sleep and the man can’t help but stare at the love bites littering your neck.

“Hey, missed me?”

Your eyes widen and you instinctively open the door wider.

“Chifuyu.”

༉‧₊˚. interested in commissioning me? if not, leave a ko-fi!

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 3 months ago

Text

What The Heart Desires ❤️💚 (BakuKiriMina x Black!F!Reader 18+ Short Fic)

❤️💚❄️❤️💚❄️❤️💚❄️❤️💚❄️

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Kirishima Ejirou x Mina Ashido x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: In which two lonely-hearted girls make a wish on a star one Christmas Eve for their hearts’ desires: a Daddy Dom. What they don’t expect that night after their annual Christmas party is to receive that wish in two. When their very special party guests and secret crushes show up unannounced at their door proclaiming their romantic feelings and that these two cuties are theirs, what will our two lonely hearts do? Will they have to choose?

Tags: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Pro!KiriBakuMina (Late 20s-Early 30s); Bimbo!sub!Mina x Bimbo!sub!Reader; Dom!KiriBaku; Fantasy; Comedy; Size Difference; Aphrodisiac; Dubcon/R*pe; Body/Chest Worship; Scar Appreciation; Foreplay; Messy Kissing; Spit Play; Cum Play; S*x w/ S*x Toys; Anal Play; Spanking; Choking; Hair-Pulling; Degradation/Praise; Daddy Kink; DDLG; Mild BDSM; Oral (Giving & Receiving); Slutifcation; Objectification; Multiple Positions (Doggystyle, Missionary, Daisy Chain, etc.); Polyamorous; Everyone Is Bi; Mutual Os; Creampies; Ownership; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: I had so much fun writing this short fic. I’ll try and do more in the new year with my job & classes as much as I can. I hope y’all enjoyed! -Jazz ❤️❤️

Chapters: ONE. TWO. THREE. FOUR. FIVE. SIX. BONUS CHAPTER.

❤️💚❄️❤️💚❄️❤️💚❄️❤️💚❄️

BONUS CHAPTER: JUST TWO GALS & THEIR DADDIES

The next morning arrives and with it comes Christmas Day! The most joyous time of year!

The winter sun pours through your bedroom window, glistening against the soft, white snow coating your neighborhood in blankets of white.

“Mmm,” you sleepily moan as you feel yourself awakened to the bright, beautiful winter sun. Your body aches in a delicious way and you’re butt-ass naked, snuggled in close to your girlfriend. You look around your bedroom, noticing how clean and quiet it is. Actually, your whole house is quiet. Too quiet.

You look next to you at Mina who is sound asleep and turned away from you. Her back muscles flex as she inhales and exhales, still deep in Dreamland. You don’t see any other spaces in the mattress. You don’t feel any warmth, preferably from the two sexy pros that were with you last night.

They were here last night, weren’t they? You know they were! You felt them. Kissed them. Tasted them. Fucked them and felt them fill you up to the brim. You snuggled with them in front of the fire. That was all real, wasn’t it?

This idea sobers you, pushing your sleep fog away. “Mina?” you ask, your voice soft and fearful. Your girlfriend moans in her sleep, shifting in the bed. “Mmm, huh?” she mumbles. She turns to you, her hair in her mouth and drool on her cheek. She wipes it away, smiling at you. “Good morning, baby,” she coos. “Merry Christmas.”

She moves towards you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You can’t find it in yourself to feel happy about spending another Christmas morning with her. Not when you’re missing two very important people. “Where’s Bakugou and Kiri?” you ask.

The blanket falls off of Mina’s chest, revealing her perky tits to you. “Huh?” she asks, yawning. “What do you mean?”

That is when reality hits you like a pillow sack full of bricks right in the face. Bakugou and Kiri were never here. You must have fallen asleep after too much spiked hot cocoa and your horny mind constructed a wet dream that felt so real that you mistook it for reality.

‘Oh,’ you think, disappointment blooming inside of you. ‘It was just a dream.'

Your eyes grow warm and itchy with unshed tears that you do your very best to push away. Mina’s expression grows concerned, her brows knitted together in worry. “Y/N?” she worriedly asks. “What’s the matter?” She places a hand on your back, comforting you.

But you don’t know how to tell her. You can’t find the words to express your disappointment and utter sadness without sounding insane.

You don’t have your Daddies here. They were never here. That security and affection you thought you felt last night from them are gone. You feel stupid. You can’t believe you really made that dumb wish on a star, thinking it would do something for you and Mina. How could you be such an idiot?

You begin to open your mouth to tell Mina that it’s nothing. That you just had a bad dream and that everything is okay…that is until the smell of pancakes and frying eggs hits your nose. Your eyes widen and your heart pounds excitedly. Could it be…?

Quickly, you jump out of bed and grab your plushy Dynamight bathrobe from your closet before hurrying out of the bedroom. “Y/N!” Mina calls. “Wait! Where are you going?!”

You don’t answer her. Your mind is on hyperdrive as you damn near fly down the steps and race through the living room to the kitchen. You need to see if they’re here. You must know that last night wasn’t just a wonderful, wet dream. When you finally get to the kitchen and hear the sound of Kiri’s humming, you know with absolute certainty that last night was a reality.

To your utter joy and astonishment, Bakugou stands at the kitchen stove, hyper-fixated on flipping a perfectly circular pancake while three egg yolks fry on the burner beside him. Kiri is busy setting up the kitchen island and the small breakfast table adjacent to it with the holiday-themed plates Mina bought two years ago along with silverware and glasses. He is wearing a tank top and briefs while Bakugou is shirtless and in his jeans, possibly free-balling (you hope).

Kiri is humming the familiar tune to “Walking in a Winter Wonderland” when he hears your footsteps pad across the floor. He looks at you, his eyes gleaming. “Hey, there you are!” he chirps. “Good morning! I thought for sure that you and Mina would’ve slept in.” A sexy glint appears in his eye. “We did have a very long night last night.”

Bakugou looks up too as he transfers a pancake to a stack of them on the counter. He, too, looks happy to see you, a small smile on his face. A bowl of chocolate chip pancake batter and a plate of cooked bacon sits next to the finished stack of pancakes, meaning he has been up for some time cooking a Christmas breakfast.

You are still so flabbergasted that you can’t even think straight. “Y-You’re here,” you softly stammer. “You’re both here.”

Bakugou raises a curious eyebrow at you. “Of course, we’re here,” he grumbles. “Where the hell else would we be? We spent the night last night.”

So it was real. Everything that happened last night wasn’t a dream. Your body tingles with relief and excitement, overjoyed that your wish was granted.

Mina appears behind you in her custom-made, plushy, pink robe with her name printed on the back in bedazzled letters. “Good morning, Daddies,” she sings, walking into the kitchen. She walks with the confidence of someone who had good sex the night before, her hair a finger-swept mess and a glow to her skin. “Oooh, pancakes! Are they chocolate chip?!”

She races to Bakugou to take a bite of one, but he snatches her hand away and smacks her on the ass, earning a squeak. “Ah-ah, hands off, Pinkie!” he barks. “I ain’t even fix the eggs yet!” Mina tuts, pouting and crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re so mean.”

Bakugou finishes scraping the fried eggs out of the pan and leans in, his nose nearly touching hers. His hand cascades down to her butt again, giving it a squeeze. “Pout again and I’ll give you somethin’ to put those lips on,” he whispers.

Mina blushes as red as Kiri’s hair, her lips struggling to not smile. “So lewd!” Kiri cackles, putting a carton of OJ on the table. “Oh, and before we forget…”

He smiles at the both of you and reaches behind a flower vase sitting on the kitchen island. There, he presents two small boxes wrapped in red bows for you and Mina.

“Merry Christmas, baby girls,” he coos, grinning at you. “We bought you both a little somethin’ that we intended to give you at the party.”

Mina places a hand on her chest, gasping at the touching gift. You stare at yours in awe, still unsure if this is a dream or not. It’s just too good to be true.

After she takes her gift, Mina grins at Kiri and Bakugou. “We got something for you both too,” she says with a giggle. Quickly, she heads to the living room and returns with the two gift bags you especially made for them. “Y/N picked it out special for you two.”

Kiri beams at his gift bag while Bakugou stares at it in awe as if he has never gotten one before. You watch in anticipation as they dig into the wrapping paper and pull out their gifts.

You thought hard on these gifts and filled the bags with items catered to them. Bakugou got a new Plus Ultra mug, assorted coffee, and a custom-made plaque with the words “To The Best Pro In The Game! You’re My Hero!” at the bottom.

Kiri isn’t a coffee drinker, so he got new packs of flavored protein powder for his shakes, a $15 Hand and Stone Spa gift card for those muscles, and a fake trophy reading “To The Damn Best & My Favorite Hero!” on the front.

You flush shyly as they stare at their gifts, nervously wriggling your hands. “It’s not much, but it’s something to show how much we appreciate you both.”

Kiri tsks, staring at you and Mina like you are the most precious things to exist. “Well, aren’t you just the sweetest?” he coos. Bakugou blushes, staring at his new mug as if it is a piece of treasure. “Open yours up already,” he impatiently says.

With a giggle, you and Mina open your gift boxes and find two matching necklaces in them. They are gemstones, one pink and one red, hanging from silver chains. You gape at yours, admiring the way the red stone glistening at you.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” Mina gasps, admiring her pink one.

“Then you’d better wear it,” Bakugou gruffly replies. “We spent a lot on those.” Kiri laughs, placing his gift on the side before excitedly taking Mina’s necklace out of the box. “Here, try ‘em on! We’ll put ‘em on you.”

You and Mina turn around, allowing your Daddies to fasten the necklaces around your necks. Your skin tingles from Bakugou’s touch, his fingers brushing against the back of your neck. You pick up the stone adoringly, feeling warm with affection.

You turn around to hug Bakugou, feeling oh-so safe and adored once he has his arms wrapped around you.

”Do you like them?” Kiri asks. Mina turns and embraces him tightly, standing up on her tip-toes to reach him.

"Oh, we do,” she happily sighs. “We’ll have to thank Santa for sending us two Christmas gifts instead of one, won’t we, Y/N?”

She couldn’t have said it better. “Mmm-hmm,” you agree, murmuring into Bakugou’s chest. “That North Star too.” You have never felt so complete before. Though you have always been happy with Mina, having Bakugou and Kiri here is like finding two puzzle pieces that fit and create a beautiful picture.

You lovingly touch your necklace, smiling thoughtfully up at Bakugou. “I’ll never take mine off,” you say, touched. “Thank you.”

His vermillion eyes flick down to your robe, noticing how your right breast is embroidered with his hero name. “I know a better way you can thank me,” he hums, his fingers toying with your robe.

He presses a soft, deep kiss to your lips that steals the air out of your lungs as his hands toy with the ties keeping your rope closed. “I knew I was your favorite. I guess you’re my biggest fan, huh, baby?”

His lips teasingly trail across your neck, drawing a weak moan out of you. You place your hands on his forearms, indulging in how big they are, as you turn to look at the food sitting on the counter. “W-What about breakfast?” you softly moan.

Bakugou passively eyes the food as he forces you to look at him and only him. “It’ll be fine. My breakfast is right here.”

With a squeak, you feel yourself being lifted up and placed on the kitchen counter, your thighs pried open as he stands between them. He yanks open your robe, revealing your naked body to him.

“Hey, we’re startin’ to feel a little left out,” Kiri tuts. “You’ve still got another little girl here who needs some lovin’.” He places Mina next to you on the counter, her rope open to reveal her hard, pink nipples and Red Riot-themed panties.

She eye fucks Bakugou as he begins to press kisses down her neck and across her shoulders, his hands gripping her hips. “So how can we thank you for the gifts?” she purrs. “What did you have in mind, Daddy?”

Her hand sneakily trails across your thigh and ghosts across your pussy, drawing a hum out of you. You are quickly growing more excited and hungered. Not for the food, but for the three people in your kitchen that you have come to adore.

Bakugou shares a devious smirk with Kiri before he pulls you to the edge of the counter, making you giggle. “You’re about to find out, brat.”

And after being given two orgasms back to back from your Daddies and your beautiful girlfriend before cleaning up and sitting down for Christmas breakfast, you are more than sure that you’ve received a Christmas miracle this year.

And you’re more than prepared to go into a new year getting on Santa’s nice list. Anything to keep your little family with you for good.

THE END.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #bimbo reader #mina x black!reader #bakugou x black!reader #kirishima x black!reader #black writers #bnha smut #poly smut #poly love #kiribakumina #poly kiribaku

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fluentmoviequoter · 6 months ago

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Paying for the Sins of Our Fathers

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!SWAT!reader

Summary: A new serial killer arrives in Los Angeles with a penchant for girls with bad relationships with their fathers. After you offer yourself up as bait to catch him, Deacon shows you that you're not as hard to love as you think.

Warnings: angst to fluff, serial killer, secondary character deaths, age gap, depiction of terrible father-daughter relationships (going to say allusion to DV just to be safe but if there is it's nuanced not explicitly stated)

Word Count: 3.6k+ words

A/N: Alexa, play Glasshouse Children.

*This is not a rewrite of Sins of the Father, just a titling coinkydink.

Picture from Pinterest (I love this scene so much)

“Caramel pumpkin chai for Lia!”

Lia sighs as she stands and walks to the counter. The coffee shop, one of Santa Monica’s hidden gems that most people walk right by, is nearly empty at this hour. A writer wearing headphones slaves over a laptop in one corner, three young girls read together, pausing every few minutes to discuss the previous chapter, and a man draws in a weathered leather journal. This is how Lia likes the café, but she’s not sure it’s what she needs tonight.

Sitting with her drink, she ignores the envelope in her bag. Her father sent a message from prison, where he’s been since she was a freshman in high school nearly a decade ago, but she’s yet to open it. She’s not sure she can, not sure she wants to, even. Tapping the screen of her phone, she smiles when she sees a reply from her best friend.

Come over, and we’ll talk. Catch this love <3

“Excuse me,” the man with the journal says, standing sheepishly by Lia’s table. “I just wanted to say hello, and, uh, I hope you don’t mind, but I included you in my sketch of the coffee shop.”

“Oh,” Lia replies, smiling at the interruption. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Good, good. I won’t keep you, but it’s a hard anniversary for me, but drawing helps and it was nice to have a friendly face in the scene.”

“I understand completely. I hope the rest of your night is good.”

“Thank you,” he replies, nodding once. “You, too.”

“Wait,” Lia calls as he turns. “Could I maybe see the picture?”

“Oh, no, ma’am,” he answers with a chuckle. “I’m not very good. My father told me I should find another hobby, but, well… he’s why I’m here tonight drawing instead of remembering the past.”

Lia shakes her head and offers, “Dads are tough, believe me, I know. If you enjoy drawing, though, keep doing it. Good for you.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” The man pauses and waves generally as he adds, “About your dad, I mean.”

“It is what it is,” Lia says, shrugging. “Are you sure I can’t see the picture?”

“Yes, I am.”

“That’s a shame. I’m sure it’s beautiful.”

“The last scene I drew was a visiting area in a state prison, so it’s a light in this sketchbook.”

“I haven’t been in a prison in years, but I’m sure a setting that grim can’t be easy to draw.”

“I like the challenge, but the distraction was the real reward. After I visit the prison, I go up Getty Center Drive just to get away from it all, you know?”

“It’s gorgeous up there,” Lia sighs.

“You should go sometime, to clear your mind. Even alone with your thoughts, everything just seems more peaceful.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”

The man nods and steps toward the door. Lia pushes the envelope from her father deeper into her bag before she stands and picks up her drink. She’s ready to talk, and her friend is waiting, like always. As she walks toward her car, Lia smiles.

“Good night,” the man calls from beside his car. “You should really go to Getty after you return your dad’s letter in person.”

Lia’s smile drops as she presses the button to unlock her car. “How did you know that?”

“On second thought,” the man muses lightly, walking toward Lia’s car. “Why don’t we go together? Right now?”

Lia tries to scream, but his hand presses against her mouth, a damp rag silencing her cries.

You yawn as Street continues his story about the motorcycle race he allegedly won last night. Before he can tell you the epic conclusion, a group of at least thirty cops walks into SWAT HQ and heads directly to the situation room. Street silences, and you watch the officers and detectives walk through the building.

“20 Squad, situation room!” Hicks yells. “Now!”

You follow Street inside and find a place at the back to stand. Deacon, Hondo, and Luca enter from the other side and look at you questioningly as they join you. You shrug, and Street stands by Luca as they theorize what the large meeting could mean.

“I’m Detective Ryan Carradine of the Mid-Wilshire division,” Carradine introduces, gesturing for everyone to quiet. “We have patrol officers, Metro SWAT, UCs, and the homicide division from several different stations here today because we have a county-wide case.”

A map with nine red dots appears on the screen behind him. Each dot has a date and time beside it, each one five days apart.

“By which I mean there is a new serial killer in Los Angeles. In the last 45 days, we have located nine bodies, each a female in her early-20s to late-30s. Early this morning, we found Lia Carter, a 24-year-old woman from Rustic Canyon. Carter was attacked sometime between midnight and 2 a.m., and she was left for dead in brush off Getty Center Drive. She’s in critical condition, but if she pulls through, she will be the only survivor.”

“What’s the connection between victims?” a homicide detective inquires.

Carradine tsks, then answers, “Our teams are working on that now. What we’ve got tentatively is the age range, females, and…” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as he adds, “They all seem to have strained or nonexistent relationships with their fathers.”

You look at Street, who purses his lips and shrugs.

“Carter was found with an unopened letter from her father stapled to her shirt, he’s serving life in Lancaster State Prison for killing her high school boyfriend,” Carradine explains.

“What does this have to do with us?” Street whispers.

“So, because of the extent of this case, we need everyone in this room on their A-game. If that’s not you, I want you out and I will find someone to take your spot.”

No one moves, so Carradine nods and steps to the side as Commander Hicks joins him.

“I’m Commander Bob Hicks,” he begins, “I’ll be assisting Detective Carradine in an operational capacity. I’m also placing my 20-David SWAT team on standby for anything related to this case. The moment we get a warrant, they’ll be ready to roll.”

“That being said,” Carradine interjects, “Mid-Wilshire’s Metro is prepared to pick up slack for other tactical calls. If you need immediate tactical support for this case, alert Hicks, otherwise, dispatch will get you a team from another station.”

“What other information do you have?” an officer asks. “Suspects, forensics?”

“Short answer: nothing.”

The undercover chief suggests, “We can get UC officers out, advertise poor paternal relationships, try to bring this guy into the light.”

“It won’t work,” an officer states as he enters the situation room. “Lia Carter regained consciousness. She said he knew; that the man had details about her relationship with her father, things she’d never told anyone other than police and therapists.”

“Then UC is out,” Carradine murmurs, rubbing his forehead. “Any other ideas?”

You inhale before you say, “Send me in.”

The officers standing between you and Carradine look back and step to the side so he can see you clearly. Hicks looks from you to Hondo, then back to you, and shakes his head gently.

“If he can get his hands on that kind of information, then he could find out that I fit. I’m the right age, no relationship with dad,” you explain. “It’s as good as a UC as you’re going to get in this.”

Standing beside you, Deacon tenses his jaw. He doesn’t want you to do this; he wants you to be as far from this serial killer as you possibly can, but it’s not his place to ask you to stay. No matter how much he wishes it was.

“Absolutely not,” Hondo says instead.

“There’s way too much at stake,” Luca adds.

“He could know even more,” Street exclaims. “We don’t know his MO, what he does before or after the killings.”

You look to Deacon rather than answering your other teammates, and he licks his lips before he says, “It’s your decision. We’ll be here for you, whether you stay or go.”

Nodding, you keep your eyes on Deacon as you say, “Then let’s catch a serial killer.”

“Oh, he’s got a name now,” a cyber-tech says from one of the desks. “Papers are calling him The Fatherless.”

“Classy,” you murmur.

“Get prepped,” Hicks tells you. “20 Squad, you’re on standby, so stay close.”

“The rest of you stay here to receive your posts,” Carradine announces. “We’ve got five days until he strikes again. So, let’s do this in four.”

In the locker room, you sit in your civvies and prepare for the worst. The door opens as Street walks inside, his steps purposeful and hurried.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says, stopping beside you. “No one will blame you for changing your mind.”

“Street,” you begin.

He squats before you and shakes his head. “No, listen, I understand. Probably better than anyone else here. I know that you still feel that pain, even if it’s the last thing on your mind. Those wounds, the ones that your parents carve into you as a child, they never fully heal, and they reopen easily.”

You nod along with Street. He’s right, you know that. Yet, you know what you have to do.

“We’re glasshouse children, Street, you know that. But I’m done paying for the sins of my father. And I’m not going to let another innocent woman be murdered because of hers.”

Street sighs and leans back against the lockers. “We’re here for you. You better be careful, or I’ll tell Deacon that you have a crush on him.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms to match Street’s stance. “I’m always careful. Don’t confuse your recklessness for my perfection.”

Hondo knocks on the open door, serious and sympathetic, as he says, “Hospital just called. Lia Carter didn’t make it.”

Over the next two days, every moment outside HQ is spent setting up your role as the perfect target. On a walk, you slow by a park and watch a father and daughter play together, letting yourself long for something you don’t remember having. In crowded areas, you identify men who remind you of your dad or are alone and steer around them, giving yourself a wide berth. You avoid talking about your family, even inviting a friend to dinner just so someone asks how everyone is. No matter where you go, you keep your guard up with your gun within reach. You’re living like someone is watching your every move because you want them to be.

The most important thing you do requires help. With a picture stowed in your backpack, courtesy of the forensic team, you return home at the end of the second day. Carefully, you hide the picture in a book, then make dinner and try to forget it. When you settle in with the book for the night, you “accidentally” find the picture. The ink shows you and your father, cheek-to-cheek and smiling, and you stare at it until it blurs. Then, you shove it back in the book and throw it against the wall. Dropping your head into your hands, you feel like you’re being watched, and if the picture hadn’t affected you more than you anticipated, you might be scared by that.

Sitting alone in a rundown diner, you tap a sugar packet against your cup. It’s been five days since Lia Carter was attacked, and if you aren’t approached by The Fatherless tonight, he’ll kill another woman. You shift as if you can feel the picture of your dad in your pocket. It’s halfway out, so anyone who approaches your table can see it, yet another piece of bait to get yourself on a serial killer’s radar. You wish he could see it so no one else has to see him.

“Evening,” a man greets as he slides onto a barstool directly to your right.

You look over your shoulder, and when the man’s eyes drop to the picture, you fight down a smile. A killer sits beside you, his complete attention on you, and you’re exactly where you wanted to be.

“Good evening,” you reply lightly.

“Young love, huh?” he asks, gesturing with his chin to the young pregnant couple sharing a milkshake at the other side of the diner. “I bet they’ll be fun parents.”

You laugh humorlessly and look down at your sugar packet as you murmur, “I wouldn’t know what that looks like.”

He frowns sympathetically and offers, “Let me get you another drink?”

Though you want to agree and speed through this part, you remain hesitant, a faux vigilance. The Fatherless leaves plenty of room between you, making it feel like you’re in charge.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” he says to the waitress. When you look at him again, he smiles and shrugs. “It looks good.”

“It is good,” you reply, letting your eyes drift back to the happy couple.

“I used to imagine that my parents looked like that,” he muses. “But then I remember my dad was a deadbeat who left before I started preschool.”

“Now that I can understand.” You nod as you look at your empty cup.

“Ready for that drink?” he guesses.

You smile sheepishly, and he turns to order another drink before he slides off the barstool and sits on the other side of your booth.

“Your dad leave too?” he inquires, treating it like another mundane subject.

He asks open-ended questions but feeds you information he shouldn’t even know. You know what he’s doing, and you will play his game for as long as it takes.

“Yeah. I mean, in hindsight, I guess I should’ve seen it coming,” you answer.

“You were older?”

As you continue answering his questions, talking more and touching your drink less, you notice his eyes keep flitting to your cup. There was no evidence of him drugging the previous victims, so he must be pulling out all of the stops for you, his first target who defends herself and others for a living.

“So, you go hang out by yourself when you’re feeling like this?” The Fatherless asks.

“Depends on the day,” you say. “And the feeling.”

“I used to go sit on one of the bridges over the Los Angeles River and just stare into it.”

“That helped?”

“Almost every time. Something about the concrete lining on what should have been natural just… put everything into perspective, I suppose.”

“Typically, I try to escape thoughts of my dad,” you point out with a smile.

“And staring into murky water doesn’t help with that?” he challenges.

“That’s fair. I think I’d like to see it, give it a try.”

“We aren’t far from a viaduct.”

“I didn’t drive,” you complain. “The one time I decide to walk to clear my head.”

“I’ve got a car. If you’re comfortable with that.”

You pretend to deliberate his offer, then smile and stand. He leaves some cash on the table – cheap tipper, you think – and then leads you to a nondescript black Mustang. As he walks to the driver’s side, you slow and memorize the license plate.

“You know, one thing I never considered before is how lucky I am that I don’t have to worry about who will walk me down the aisle,” he says as he opens the door. “I guess your daddy issues are why you go for Sergeant Salt ‘n’ Pepper, though, huh?”

You don’t expect the comment, and it makes you stop. How The Fatherless managed to find the one thing you haven’t thought about for years, your wedding day, and how strange it might be without a father figure confuses you. More, the fact that he brought Deacon into this causes you to freeze.

“C’mon,” he urges, likely sensing your sudden discomfort.

“Sorry,” you say, shaking your head. “Got lost there for a second, didn’t I?”

As you get into the car, you know you’re doing the right thing but are admittedly scared now. If he knows that much about your life presently, who knows how much information he has on your childhood or family. He talks during the short drive to the viaduct, and you force yourself to keep the conversation going.

It’s weird. Your dad is who he is; you’ve moved on from the pain and heartbreak he put you through, and that’s what this guy is supposed to care about. But, because of The Fatherless, you’re thinking about something else. Is it possible that everything that exists or could exist between you and Deacon is just because of that?

Standing on a viaduct over the Los Angeles River, The Fatherless stands too close to you. He reaches for a weapon, but you’re too slow, not even raising your hand before there’s a gun in your face. Defenseless, you stand still as an engine rumbles before footsteps pound against the pavement.

“LAPD SWAT, drop the weapon!” Hondo yells.

“You’re surrounded, man,” Luca adds. “It’s over.”

“Put the gun down and step back!” Hondo repeats.

You stare into his eyes, looking past the gun. The moment he begins to lower his arm, Luca and Street rush forward and detain him before passing him off to another officer. With the police lights reflecting off the water below you, you look to your team as you fight to keep your emotions inside.

“That was the stupidest, most reckless act of incompetence I have ever seen!” Hondo yells, taking a heated step toward you.

Street raises his arm quickly, slapping his hand against Hondo’s chest. When Hondo stops, Street shakes his head but keeps his eyes on you. He can tell there’s something else wrong, more than you not defending yourself. You’re surprised, however, when someone else seems to notice it.

Deacon walks toward you, where you stand at the edge of the concrete platform. Stopping several steps back, Deacon doesn’t touch you but waits for you to do something. Down the bridge from you, the surveillance team that was watching and listening from the moment you stepped into the diner tells Hicks, Hondo, Luca, and Street what The Fatherless said to you.

When they hear that he brought someone you care about now into the conversation, they look back to you and Deacon. Hondo sighs while Luca runs his fingers through his hair, and Street murmurs, “No,” under his breath.

“I told Street I didn’t want the daughters of Los Angeles to pay for the sins of our fathers,” you begin. “But we can’t escape it. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try to forgive him and move on, I’m still broken inside because of what he did.”

“You’re not broken,” Deacon insists.

“Then why do I look for love everywhere but only find it where I can’t have it?!” you ask, your voice rising as you step back.

Deacon raises his hands as you near the edge of the overpass. Your team moves forward, too, but everything else slows down.

“He was right, Deacon,” you murmur.

“No, he wasn’t.”

“Yes, he was! I love things that I can’t have because one of the few times I loved something with my entire heart, my dad shattered it.”

“Look where you are now,” Deacon demands, his arms still out toward you. “Despite that pain, in spite of everything he did to you, you are here. You have a career you love, a team that loves you like family, a-“

“Please stop saying love,” you interrupt.

“We love you,” Deacon finishes. “And we don’t care about what your dad did or didn’t do because we love you, scars and all."

You wipe a stray tear from your jaw, and Deacon takes another step toward you.

“I love you,” he whispers. “Differently than I’ve ever loved anything before.”

Your breath catches, but Deacon would never lie to you. You sniff and ask, “So, you don’t think I’m attracted to you just because of my daddy issues?”

Deacon smiles at your question, shakes his head, and offers his hand. You place your hand in his, grateful for the warmth of his glove, and then he pulls you against his chest and hugs you tightly. Safe in his arms, you let yourself cry, barely registering his movements as he carefully directs you away from the viaduct.

A moment later, more arms wrap around you as your team joins in your group hug. You laugh through the tears, loving each one for different reasons. And, just as you love them, they love you. This is your family, and this kind of love transcends generational curses and past traumas. You’re all different people, shaped by your pains and experiences, but you fit together. The people in this hug are your family: perfect pieces held together by love.

As Deacon follows you into your home, you know he will offer to stay, but you have something you’ve needed to say for a long time.

“I love you, too,” you admit. “I’m in love with you, and I have been for years.”

Deacon smiles as he offers his hand again; you take it, willing to go anywhere with him. He kisses your forehead and then leads you to the kitchen. The possibilities are endless now that your feelings are out in the open. You can do anything, be anything with Deacon.

For tonight, though, you want to sit with him and remember that you’re loved, and you can love as hard as you want because the sins of your father are not your responsibility nor a weight you must bear. Who you are now is who Deacon loves, and that’s exactly what you want to be.

#david deacon kay x reader #deacon kay x reader #david kay x reader #david deacon kay #deacon kay #fem!reader #hanna writes✯#swat cbs #swat x reader #swat

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