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imtherain · 21 days ago

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He Brings Me Flowers: (Sex Pollen/Logan) Part One

Hey hey heyo

I'm only a few days late and this is only half the fic, but I promised I'd publish this sooner, so I broke it in half. I'll probably post a full version too at some point.

Warnings: Sex Pollen, some fighting, plants!, surprise lesbians, newly married Jean/Scott, reader is in 1rst person because I write better that way usually, a lot of internal talking, negative self image, kinda of a cliff hanger, no sex specifically but people get a bit frisky.

I promise I'm trying to finish the rest, but my brain cells are tired

Word Count (I shouldn't tell you): just shy of 10k for this one

tagging @gothamnighthawk because I took a screenshot (promptly forgot which thing she wanted tagged in and took the last 20 minutes verifying I had the right fic)

[Masterlist]

[Logan List]

[Part Two!]

Here we go!

It all started with what sounded like a basic mission, recon only, investigating a base that had been found in a dense forest a few miles outside of a small town I’d never heard of, just across the Canadian border. The rumor was that the base was working on creating new biological weapons, but when I landed the jet, all we’d really found was a sudden, inexplicable, field of flowers.

Honestly, the place was extraordinarily beautiful, like stepping into a whole different world. The field was entirely surrounded by trees, sentinels against the outside world, holding the flower field in its arms like it was afraid they would escape. Perhaps that should have been warning enough… something too pretty in a place it shouldn’t be.

No one seemed to have any issues as we approached. And there were a lot of us, considering it was a simple recon mission, but it was a chance to stretch everyone’s legs, so basically anyone who wanted to come along had been allowed to join.

Jean and Scott hadn’t been on a mission at all since their honeymoon, so they signed up. Rogue had been asking to go on a mission for months now, and Ororo only let her because she tagged along to keep an eye on the younger woman. And then there was Logan, who just seemed to be the default on every mission. I heard Scott joke once that they needed to bring him to ‘take the dog for a walk so he didn’t chew up anyone’s shoes’.

Oh, and of course, there was me.

I really enjoyed going on missions, but mostly because I really enjoyed flying the jet. It not only was a blast, but it made me feel useful, which was nice, because my mutations didn’t really seem all that great compared to everyone else’s. All I could do was freeze someone in time for a bit, which sounds far cooler than it is, and there weren’t exactly a lot of cases for that being particularly useful. I’d only really ever used it to hold someone until someone more important than me could come get them. And even that was rare.

At the end of the day I was just really fancy handcuffs.

Logan and Scott were bickering while we made our way through the flowers. In patches the petals were yellows, some as big as the mammoth sunflowers my aunt used to grow, and some smaller petalled ones that looked like black-eyed-Susans. Another patch was all creamy whites, three or four different petal groupings. One patch was pale orange, another, brilliant reds. Some looked familiar and some were totally alien to me. It was almost as though every flower someone could think of was here in the field around us.

Jean and Rouge were walking behind the boys, trying to deescalate, and Ororo was right behind them. She seemed just as interested in the flowers as I was.

“Wouldn’t be a mission without those two fighting, would it?” Ororo’s voice came from beside me suddenly. I nodded.

“I swear, I don’t even hear it anymore, it’s just like how I got used to the train whistle when I lived near a crossing,” We laughed.

“Do these flowers seem off to you?” Ororo asked carefully. It was almost as though she was trying to check to see if she was hallucinating or not.

“I was wondering how they got so many varieties to bloom all at once,” I agreed. “Because back that way I saw a whole bunch of flowers that shouldn’t be blooming this time of year, right next to ones that shouldn’t be growing this far north at all,”

“Maybe they have something to do with the intel we received,” Ororo said.

“What are you ladies talking about back here,” Logan’s voice drew both of our attention away from the patch of warm golden flowers we’d been admiring.

“Do these flowers seem weird to you?” I asked him. Logan’s eyes traced my face quickly before he glanced across the field. Ororo smirked at me but I ignored her.

“Not really,” He shrugged. “It all smells the same,”

“What does it smell like?” Ororo asked, obviously hoping for some sort of insight.

“Flowers,” He said unhelpfully. Ororo rolled her eyes at him and went to catch up with the others. Leaving me alone with Logan.

Who was staring at me.

“What? Is there something on me?” I asked, alarmed. With this many flowers around, it wouldn’t be a surprise for there to be all kinds of bees. I wasn’t allergic that I knew of, but I also didn’t really want to find out otherwise.

“Nothing,” Logan shook his head. “Just thinking about how it’s been a while since I’ve seen you out on a mission,”

“I literally fly you to every mission,” I rolled my eyes at him and started walking again. I didn’t want to get too far behind everyone else. Not to mention, being alone with Logan had the bad habit of making me daydream about him falling hopelessly in love with me one day.

Which I knew for a fact, was delusional at best.

“Well yeah, but you usually wait in the jet,” Logan pressed. “It’s nice to see you out,”

“Just another person for you to show off for, huh?” I smirked, thinking I caught him.

“Nah,” He disagreed. “I don’t show off for those losers,” He nodded towards the group ahead of us with no malice in his tone. “I only show off for pretty girls like you,”

I scoffed.

“Laying it on pretty thick today,” I rolled my eyes at him even though my cheeks were red. Logan chuckled and I hated that I had the feeling he knew exactly how warm his compliment had made my chest.

But I also really wished he wouldn’t tease me so much. I knew he wouldn’t want someone like me and that he only did it to make my blush and nothing more. We were coworkers, neighbors kind of since we both lived in the adult dorms, and sometimes I’d even dare to say we were friends. But anything other than that? There was no way. He only called me pretty as a favor, a harmless tease, the way I told every cat I saw that he was handsome. And I mean, every cat is handsome, so maybe that isn’t the right comparison.

All I knew was that Logan wouldn’t want to fall in love with me. No one ever did.

I had convinced myself I was just fine with that. Just like every other boy I’d ever gotten feelings for. I was a friend at best, never a girlfriend, never even someone to fuck. I’d made my peace with that as a young woman who found herself surrounded by doors that stayed shut, stayed locked, stayed with their flashing signs that read “Love Inside: No Admittance.”

We came upon the building not long after. It looked remarkably like an office building of some sort, but it was only one story tall and sprawling. Logan, as always, led the charge inside, checking corners and doorways as we made our way through the surprisingly unlocked front doors. I stayed with Ororo and Rouge who were both better in hand to hand situations than I was, even though I had gotten pretty good at sparring. Mostly that was thanks to Logan who taught me how to kick someone’s ass without worrying about hurting them, as that had always been an issue I had sparring with the other women.

I was simply… bigger than them. Both taller and thicker. Hell, I knew for a fact you could add Ororo and Jean together and I’d still have about 30 pounds on them. Not to mention the time I’d given Ororo a black eye when she had finally convinced me to spar with her, and that was the same day I’d knocked the wind out of her when I wasn’t even trying to.

Clumsy at best, uncoordinated. Not really useful for much of anything when you can’t even control your limbs correctly. Why would they bother to bring you on missions if you couldn’t fly the jet?

We didn’t see much of anything on the first level of the building. A few cameras mounted high on the wall, but they were all busted and clearly not functional. Empty offices with dusty shelves and overturned chairs. A pile of metal folding chairs collapsed near the front doors.

One room was full of empty flower pots, which was strange but harmless. Honestly, it looked as though no one had even set foot in the place in several years.

The lower level showed signs of life, but not signs of weapons being made.

The level appeared to have been mostly conference rooms originally, large glass windows looking into square spaces from a nondescript hallway. The first one was mostly empty, the only thing left was another stack of those uncomfortable metal chairs pushed against a wall. A large, dark stain, bloomed in the middle of the carpet. It smelled like mold and must.

Most of the other rooms were filled, or at least partially filled, with vines. The whole level smelled thick and cloying like a greenhouse with all the fans off. No airflow. All green air and black earth.

“Never seen anything like this before,” Jean mused.

“What, you never saw Little Shop of Horrors?” Logan asked.

“Let’s hope this is nothing like that,” Scott slid himself into the conversation, as he always did when Logan talked to Jean.

“Nothing seems to be moving,” I added. “But everything seems to be alive,”

“Unsettling,” Rouge shivered at the thought. “And weren’t there supposed to be people here?”

“Oh god, I hope they aren’t in there with all those vines,” I felt my throat constrict at the thought.

“I don’t really want those nightmares,” Scott agreed.

“I don’t sense anything with a heartbeat,” Jean soothed our worries, but seemed a bit nervous about whatever it was she did sense. “Not here anyway,”

“Are you sensing something somewhere else?” Scott paused in front of her, his hands going to her arms to sooth her. They were sweet, Scott always coming to Jean’s aid, trying to make things ok for her in every way he possibly could. I often wondered if I’d like to be taken care of like that, but I figured it would make me feel like a child, and I hated being treated like a child.

Jean said something back to Scott and he smiled at her softly.

After a while, watching them just sort of hurt my teeth.

I paused at a desk that was half covered with the greenery spilling out of the room next to it. It almost looked like the vines had either pushed the desk out of their way, or were trying to pull it back in. And these vines seemed to be leafier. Broad expanses begging to get sunlight. I wondered who would be cruel enough to grow plants like that in the dark. Or rather mostly dark, as there were a few fluorescent lights still doing their best.

Under the reaching leaves, I found some papers. Most were water damaged and useless, but one appeared to be an old magazine clipping of a man smiling at the camera, a greenhouse in the background. The way the picture had been torn from the magazine had removed the top half of the man’s head, but you could still make out the smile, still see the teeth.

There was a boy next to the man, but the boy wasn’t smiling. He was holding a potted plant to his chest, as if hoping he could hide behind the many different flower heads all coming out of it. He wore a black jacket that seemed all the more dark next to the taller man’s white lab coat.

“I found a picture,” I said, just loud enough that the others could hear. “Not sure it means anything,”

“Let me see it,” Ororo came and took it from me. “Hmm, don’t those look kind of like the field outside?” Scott took the old clipping from her next.

“Yeah, seems close enough to be related. Think the boy or the dad is behind all this then?” Scott asked. He flipped the image over and part of the article was visible, but he didn’t bother sharing it with the class.

“That’s an old magazine,” Logan said, not needing to look too close. “I’d wager the son,”

“Ok, but either way, why would they be making weapons out here if they were plant people?” I asked. “I haven’t seen anything to suggest a weapon is even being made here.”

“There’s someone coming, hide,” Jean said suddenly. Everyone moved without questioning her.

Ororo pulled Rouge under the desk I’d been searching, the vines hanging down enough to shield them. Jean and Scott moved to slide into the nearest-to-them conference room, barely squeezing in amongst the plant life there.

I looked around, panic in my chest as I realized I didn’t have anywhere to go. The conference room to my direct left had vines pushing their way out the door. The desk was already hiding two people. I couldn’t help but freeze as I realized there was nowhere for me to hide and I was too big to just slide in somewhere. I’d get caught and blow the whole mission.

Logan caught my eye and came running towards me, which honestly, didn’t help my panic. I opened my mouth to tell him to hide himself, but he was faster than me, covering my mouth with his hand. His other arm came around my middle, holding me flush with his chest, effectively stilling us both and preventing me from making any noise.

I tried to wiggle away from him, confused as to how us standing still was going to prevent us getting caught. Logan just shushed me, and held me tighter as he listened for the threat I was sure he’d be able to hear even though I couldn’t.

Heat bloomed in my cheeks at the nearness of him. He smelled like leather and his last cigar and whatever it was he put in his hair. I heard him sniffing, trying to figure out where exactly the threat was, and probably what it was.

“Come on,” Logan’s voice was low and directly against the shell of my ear and it made me shiver. He took my hand and pulled me with him, back the way we’d come, but only into the previous section hallway so that we could hide behind the open fire doors. One side was off its hinges, leaning heavily against the wall, the other side was only partly open, making a nook between the metal and the wall behind it.

Logan pushed me into the space first so that he was on the outside should anyone or anything come for us. Always the ‘walk on the road side of the sidewalk’ type.

“I could just freeze them maybe,” I offered in a hoarse whisper.

“We don’t know who they are or what they can do,” Logan’s whisper was harsher than mine. “Best let me handle it,”

Normally, I would have sassed him, but my heart was in my throat as if this was the worst possible game of hide-and-seek. Which, it kind of was.

There was a loud banging and the sound of someone cursing at themselves. I could almost make out their muttering as they made their way down the hall to where the others were hiding. I couldn’t see much through the opening at the hinges, but I could see the edge of the room filled with vines and make out the corner of the desk.

“Hmm, didn’t think you’d make so many leaves down here… brave girl,” A male voice praised one of the vines. I could just barely make out the reflection of his back on the glass window of one of the nearer conference rooms. He wore a white lab coat that was clearly dirty at the bottom like some mad scientist. Working with plants was dirty work, so I guess the look was warranted at least.

The man turned and began walking our way again. I felt Logan’s hand press itself against the soft part of my hip as he reached blindly behind himself to find me. He wanted to know where I was so that if and when this went sideways, he could step in front of me. I knew how he was, always a protector, and me always needing protecting. That was part of why I often stayed in the jet on missions. I didn’t want to get in his, or anyone else’s, way.

I turned to look up at Logan, listening to the mad scientist muttering to himself as he checked another section of vines. I hoped Logan could read my face as I tried to tell him not to worry about me. Logan held my eyes and I gripped onto his arm as the muttering got closer. I watched in fascination as Logan raised his free hand and his claws came out, slowly enough that they hardly made any noise at all. He looked back out the open side of our hiding spot.

I tugged on his sleeve, trying to draw him closer to me, farther from where the door wouldn’t cover him well enough. He cast me a glare that normally would have had me shrinking away from him, but as much as he wanted to protect me, I needed to protect him too. I shook my head at him, begging him to stay put. Begging him with my eyes, please, for once, just stay still.

The muttering suddenly stopped and I held my breath. Just as Logan made to move, I touched the back of my hand to his cheek and he froze, my powers temporarily holding him out of time.

I felt bad for having done it to him as I knew it wasn’t a fun experience. While it did not have any lasting effects physically, the entire time you were frozen, you could not breathe (not that you needed to), you could not move, you could not do anything but perceive the world around you. The longest I’d ever held anyone was just shy of 47 minutes. And I hated that someone had had to experience it for that long just to prove something to Charles, who had requested such a test.

It had been one of the scientists that Charles had hired on as an intern at the time, a young man who’s name I didn’t remember. I did, however, remember how he told me it was fine, that he could take it. We even did a short session first, just a few minutes. Then he wanted to see just how long I could hold him for. Everyone else involved was so fascinated the whole time, even the scientist who had had to suffer for me to learn about myself. To learn how hard it got to hold someone like that. How I felt them struggle against my teeth.

And the scientists had learned that my powers simply paused the existence of someone, and then when I let them go, they were fine as though no time had passed. Their bodies, perfectly fine.

The mad scientist went on his way down the hall. Muttering about fertilizer and wondering where he’d left his coffee. His lab coat fluttering behind him as he went.

Once I could no longer hear him, I touched Logan’s cheek again and released him from my hold. It was easier to let someone go if I touched them again, but it wasn’t really necessary. My hold would wear out eventually, and Logan was always quicker to flee my hold than most. I figured it was because he struggled more than others.

He took a deep breath, grumbling a bit as he adjusted to having control of his limbs back, and glared at me.

“What the fuck was that for?” He demanded.

“I didn’t want you to hop out and start clawing people without knowing what’s going on,” I snapped back. “And I could tell you were about a half a second away from doing just that,”

Logan glared at me some more, but then shook his head, not wanting to admit I was right.

“Let’s go get the others,” He said, taking my wrist and pulling me back into the hallway. I pulled my arm from him, rubbing the warm spot he left behind. Without the threat of being caught, him touching me at all seemed really uncalled for. Entirely inappropriate.

And something I knew I’d commit to memory for the next time I wondered what human connection felt like on a physical level.

But whatever, he shouldn’t be touching me… but since it was for extenuating circumstances, I supposed I could let it go for now.

“Thank goodness you two are alright,” Rouge’s accent always got stronger when she was worried. “Did you see where he went?”

“He was headed for the stairs we took to get down here,” Logan told her. He was hovering near me, and I wondered why I had the feeling he had something he wanted to say to me. But when I looked up at him, question marks in my eyes, he looked away.

He didn’t normally look away from me, and it stung. But now wasn’t really the time to be That Girl about it. If he was going to be mad at me, I could apologize again later and he’d forgive me. He always did.

“Well I say we go thata way,” Scott deadpanned, though he clearly said it like that to get a reaction. He was pointing in the opposite direction of the mad scientist.

“I hate to agree with Cyclops, but,” Logan chimed in.

“He’s right,” Ororo said, brushing a wayward bit of plant matter off Rouge’s back. “And we should hurry to find our information before that man comes back this way,”

We moved faster now, not stopping until we found what was clearly the only office still being used as such. There were about fifteen different computer monitors stacked up on each other. Some were the big old CRT monitors, flickering dully with lists of data. Most were newer models, LCD screens or what seemed to be old flat screen TVs. Some were bolted to the wall.

Ororo and Rouge went to investigate the computer screens closer, reading the data and trying to figure out what he was doing. Jean joined them after a moment of whispering with Scott. Part of me always felt like she was up to something when she did that, but Logan told me he could always hear what sappy shit they were saying and that I wasn’t missing anything.

I had told Logan once that if he ever saw me get like that about a man he should just kill me. Logan had laughed, and promised me he would.

“Well, looks like we’re dealing with the son,” Logan said. He had gone to dig through a pile of papers and manilla folders. He held out a newspaper and I took it, reading the headline.

“‘Henry Mitchelle, Father of Renowned Botanist Prodigy Malachi Mitchelle, dead at 52. Cause Still a Mystery’.” I said aloud. I skimmed the article. “Sounds like daddy dearest’s greatest accomplishment was having his son. And this says the police should blame Malachi for the death, since Henry had been of solid health until suddenly he, well, wasn’t.”

“He had heart failure, which had nothing to do with me.” A new voice said from the door that none of us had thought to watch. Everyone turned to him, ready to fight. He held up his hands as if he were surrendering.

“That why you started making weapons?” Logan asked. He was the only one that didn’t look like he was ready to fight, but I knew he was likely to be the first one to get in front of whatever Malachi would surely throw at us.

Malachi scoffed loudly. He was probably 35 or so, his hair needed a brush and probably a good scrub. There were soil smudges on his cheek, his forehead, and on every article of clothing he wore. His hair was mousy brown and his eyes were a terrifyingly bright shade of green.

“You think I make weapons?” Malachi sounded like we had just accused him of trying to water a fake plant. “The reason I’m out here in the middle of nowhere is so that everyone and their uncle will stop asking me to make them weapons. I suppose that’s why you’re here, you all look official.” His tone conveyed his annoyance with the idea of “official” anything.

“We’re not government,” Scott offered. Malachi stepped into the room and took the newspaper out of my hand. He ignored Scott entirely.

“My dad always told me that I was so gifted, that I could change the world. But he also wanted the money, so he sold me off to whoever wanted my plants for the highest price.”

“I’m sorry he was like that,” I said, empathetic. I knew far too many people, fathers or otherwise, that likely would have done the same. “You deserved better,”

“I actually had ‘better’ too, my mother.” Malachi’s face softened with the memory of her. “But she passed as well, someone told me once it was careless to have lost both parents,”

“Are the flowers for your mother?” Ororo’s voice came from behind me. Malachi’s neon eyes turned to her.

“Originally, yes, and she loved them. I call them Feel Good Flowers because they helped the body release happy chemicals,” He smiled so softly at the memory. I wondered how this man could be dangerous. He mostly seemed to be sad, but content enough to keep living.

“I take it dad wasn’t thrilled with your Happy Flowers,” Scott said. He was standing in front of Jean and Rouge, who were both still trying to investigate while we held Malachi’s attention.

“They were deemed ‘inefficient, ineffective, and useless’ so… no, my father wasn’t exactly proud of them. Couldn’t make him money, couldn’t bring back the dead,”

“Sounds like a jerk,” Scott’s attempt to hold Malachi’s attention was weak, but worked well enough.

“It was a blessing when he died,” Malachi agreed. “Even if they tried to blame me for it,”

“Nice sob story, bub,” Logan said, obviously bored with this conversation. “So what are you doing out here then?” I felt my gut twist with the way Malachi’s eyes turned to Logan. Logan clearly felt the shift too because he was suddenly a lot less nonchalant about this whole thing.

“Trying to be left alone,” Malachi’s voice grew echoey as he snarled the words.

“We were told there were weapons being made here, that’s why we’re here…” Ororo tried to cut in. Normally, her voice was soothing and cut the tension. I’d seen her talk down several potentially dangerous mutants before, which was also why she made an incredible vice principal at the school.

But this time she’d picked an unfortunate choice of words.

Malachi’s eyes were fully glowing suddenly, just like he was a halloween decoration with those stupid LED eyeballs. A loud crash came from behind us and the wall broke in, vines shooting through.

A flash of Cyclop’s eye bolts cut through most of them. Another crash and this time, the ceiling came down under the weight of thick plant life. There was shouting and I reached forward, trying to grab Malachi. I figured I could freeze him and it would hopefully stop the vines.

But Logan was closer, and saw my play, so he stepped between us, swinging claws at the scientist’s face.

“Cut the crap, asshole,” Logan snarled as Malachi dodged him. “We were playing nice,”

“You came in here to disturb me,” Malachi moved away from Logan easily as vines tangled his legs. Logan fell to the ground with a grunt, but was able to slice the vines off in one easy swing.

“If you’re out here killing people with plants, yeah!” I shouted after him. I was out in the hallway now, both trying to be out of the way, and block Malachi from escaping towards the stairs. Malachi laughed.

“The only people my plants have killed are the ones who came in here looking for weapons,” His face, which had been so normal before, was now a twisted snarl. “Care to be next?” The skin of his lips, and the waterline around his eyes, both seemed to have darkened to a deep green. His eyes still glowed that eerie LED green that was unsettlingly fake, but only because I knew he wasn’t made of plastic.

“How about we don’t kill anyone?” I offered. I eyed the vines that were now crawling on the floor towards me. They curled up on themselves when they got cut down the line. I saw Logan move away from the spot the vines ended, chasing after Malachi.

“Y/N, take Storm and Rouge back to the jet, we’ll handle him,” Jean said, pushing Rouge in my direction.

“What? We can help!” Rouge snapped.

“We can cover that end of the building while Logan deals with Malachi,” Ororo’s soothing voice came out again and Rouge bristled at it. But also, Ororo had a point. Plus, I could work on getting the jet ready to go, and it would keep Rouge, who was still not really an official XMan, out of harm's way.

“I’ll keep the seats warm,” I relented easily enough, even though the roar I heard down the hall made my anxiety spike. Logan was fighting hard, and the building shook every time he took a hit. “Y’all best go get Logan in check before they collapse the whole building,” Another crash and Jean winced, knowing it was just a matter of time before I was right.

“We’ll go get him,” One could never see Scott’s eyes, but you could sure hear how hard he rolled them whenever Logan was up to his…shenanigans.

I grabbed Rouge’s arm and turned her towards the exit, cutting her off in the middle of arguing with Ororo about how the fight was being broken up.

“Trust me, no one’s going to get to fight much, you aren’t missing anything,” I told her. She brushed me off with a huff.

“I know, but I hate feeling like I’m being sidelined just because I’m a newbie,”

“I’ve been doing this for ages, and I get sidelined more often than not,” I said, a poor attempt to sooth her ruffled feathers. “There are worse things than being needed elsewhere,”

Rouge groaned because she knew I was right.

We made pretty good time getting back to the first floor. As soon as we saw natural light again, we all sort of sighed in relief. I think we were all a bit nervous about getting buried alive and didn’t want to admit it.

The floor behind us shook as vines shot up through it, a wave in the ocean of speckled beige. When they receded Logan’s body was lying face up and groaning on the old tiles.

“You know what? Fuck this guy,” Logan muttered as he hauled himself to his feet. A blast from Scott cut through the same hole Logan had just popped out of. “Watch it Summers!”

“Come on,” Ororo grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the fighting again. Logan looked up and our eyes met for a brief second. I knew he’d be ok, but I hated how many hits he always seemed to have to take first. As I turned to look where I was going, I swear I saw him wink at me.

Even in the middle of a fight he found time to tease me. He really was a bully at the worst times. I told myself I didn’t care if it made my chest warm to see him so at ease in a fight.

Plus, I sometimes wondered if he liked getting hit.

“Can’t go that way!” Rouge’s voice cut into my thoughts as a mass of vines covered the front entrance.

“I thought he wanted us to leave?” I groaned. The vines tangled into each other and seemed to solidify into a new wall. “You got anything Miss Storm?” I asked. She thought for a moment.

“I can’t do anything inside the building with all the windows blocked.” Ororo lamented.

“Logan!” Rouge’s voice shouted behind us. “We can’t get out!”

“He’s a little busy,” I rolled my eyes looking for something to help us. There were some more old chairs, but that didn’t really seem useful at the moment.

“Never too busy for you,” Logan’s voice at my shoulder made me jump. He’d come running when Rouge shouted but it always surprised me how fast he was when he wanted to be.

“Think you can open the doors for us?” I asked him, pretending he wasn’t smiling at me. Pretending he didn’t look amazing fresh from getting shoved through who knows how many walls (and also the floor) of the main office.

“One weed wacker, coming up,” Logan unsheathed his claws with a smirk and I rolled my eyes at his joke wondering how long he’d been working on that one.

Logan chopped through one layer of vines, just for it to be replaced by another. He growled and went after it with both hands, but still, each vine he cut was replaced by another.

The floor shook and jostled me into the useless metal chair pile that occupied the space behind me. The noise was far more obnoxious than the pain it caused me. Rouge cursed as she also lost her footing and landed against the vine wall. Luckily, the vines didn’t seem to care since she wasn’t trying to prune them.

“You good, sweetheart?” Logan called over his shoulder, still slicing at the wall.

“I’m fine,” I snapped, pulling myself back to my feet. It was hard to stand up again because the chairs shifted and I couldn’t get a good spot to push myself up from. Plus, if I were honest, I had landed on something pokey that jabbed me in the ribs hard enough to make breathing hard for a second, but no one needed to know that. They’d just worry about me and we didn’t have the time for that.

“Hurry!” Ororo shouted at Logan.

“You wanna try it?” Logan snapped back angrily. Ororo rolled her eyes at him.

“Umm, guys?” I swallowed hard as I watched a mass of plants swell up through the hole in the office floor. “That doesn’t look good,”

“Where are Jean and Scott?” Rouge asked.

“Want your friends back?” The voice sounded like three or four of Malachi all speaking at once. I felt my stomach drop. Wherever his mutations were made him look like a monster now. All glowing bits and the wrong colors. “Have them back!”

Suddenly another couple of vines burst through the floor and flung two bodies at us. They both slid to a stop in front of me and Ororo.

“Scott! Jean!” Ororo cried out. They both got to their feet and dusted themselves off.

“Hey guys, the elevator here sucks,” Scott coughed. Jean smacked his arm. “What?”

“We need to get out of here,” Jean told him as though that wasn’t already obvious.

“Trying to, but this wall is really persistent,” Logan grumbled.

“The vines are trying to protect him,” Jean said. “Which means they’ll only let him through,”

“And that helps us… how exactly?” I demanded, watching as Malachi and his vines moved closer. If he moved slowly to toy with us or to give us time to realize how futile fleeing turned out to be, I didn’t know. I was more confused as to how things had gone so far south so fast. Malachi had seemed reasonable enough…right until he started glowing.

“Like this,” Jean held up her hands and Malachi’s advance froze. “Logan?” Jean asked in the same tone of voice she’d use for the most mundane requests.

“Yeah?” He sounded skeptical of this whole situation.

“Go stand by the girls please,” Jean nodded towards Ororo, Rouge, and I. Logan raised an eyebrow but took the three steps he needed to clear the doorway. Jean turned and thrust her arms out.

With a multilayered scream, Malachi and his chunk of vines blasted their way through the blockaded door.

I peered through the opening long enough to assess that Malachi was down for at least a few moments, and before anyone else said anything, I moved to push Ororo and Rouge, the closest two to me still, out the door.

“Time to go!” I shouted. The others all agreed and the six of us bolted out into the afternoon sun, back out into the impossible field of flowers.

We could hear Malachai groaning as we hurried past. Maybe we should have checked on him, or arrested him, or something? But we were all too ready to be back on the jet. We could come back for him another day, much more prepared for him.

“Why do I always park so far away?” I complained as we moved through the field. Everyone else was what felt like miles ahead of me and I could distinctly hear Malachi and his vines moving behind us. I risked looking over my shoulder and almost instantly tripped over my feet and crash landed into an entire bush of flowers.

I heard the stems break under my body and something in me lamented that I’d killed such a beautiful plant. But then I noticed why I had actually tripped. The vines were under the ground now, wiggling their way between the plants so as to not disturb them.

“Y/N!” Someone shouted my name and it felt so far away. The flowers that lay crushed on the ground beneath me looked like white chrysanthemums, each flowerhead the size of my fist, only they had red stamin sticking out of them. They were so beautiful, but also alien to me.

“Just go!” I shouted back, getting to my feet. “The vines are underground!” I added. I noticed then that the mound of vines that had held Malachi had disappeared.

And there Malachi stood where we’d left him, still as a statue, as a breeze rushed through. The wind kicked up dust from around what might have been a million different flowers. I felt the fine powder get whipped against my face and closed my eyes against what felt like the tiniest grains of sand. I coughed, knowing it was surely in my lungs too.

When I opened my eyes and looked at Malachi standing there in the distance, he was tousled and dirty, but also looked almost exactly the same as when we first saw him. He didn’t move to follow or attack us anymore.

And his eyes were no longer glowing as he stared blankly after us.

I caught up with the others just as they got the jet’s door open. It always took such a terribly long time to let the ramp down when we closed it, which was why we usually left it open for a quicker getaway. But since no one was sitting with our only ride home, we decided to be more careful and close it for once.

“Move, move, move,” Logan’s voice was loud as he ushered everyone on board. I noticed that the front of his uniform had the same fine dust that had pelted me in the face after I’d tripped. I probably wouldn’t have noticed had it not been for the fact that Jean had left a barely there handprint in the powder on his chest when she touched him as she climbed on board the ship.

It always annoyed me when she did that to him. Jean had literally married Scott less than six months ago and yet she still touched Logan like they were maybe more than friends. Not that it was any of my business, but leave the poor man alone.

Nevermind the green thing in me that wished I was allowed to touch his chest like that.

Scott was flipping switches to turn on the jet as I crested the ramp. I counted that we had everyone on board and hit the button to close up the hatch again.

“Well, that wasn’t great,” I complained, moving to the captain’s chair and shooing Scott from the controls. When I sat down I noticed that my chest felt funny, like I’d been holding my breath too long. And I was really warm, like maybe I was getting a fever.

“Scott?” Jean’s voice was worried and of course, her husband came running to her. I tried to tune them out while I finished the sequences to get us fully airborne.

“Something’s off, something doesn’t feel right,” Jean was almost babbling. I had to focus on getting us safely into the clouds, so I didn’t notice the change things took until I heard Logan swear.

“What the fuck you two?” His anger made me turn in time to see Jean straddling Scott’s lap while she kissed him. Clearly with tongue.

“I… I need you,” Jean stammered into Scott’s throat. Scott seemed to be under the influence of whatever nonsense had its hold on her too, as he was not trying to stop her from kissing him, nor from grinding down on his lap. When she moved up, his suit was clearly struggling to contain whatever it was he kept in his pants.

“Guys!” I snapped.

“Can’t…stop,” Scott panted. “Need you,” The second part was directed at Jean. I scoffed out loud and turned back to the controls because I really needed to get us to the altitude to use the autopilot. It took all of two minutes max, but with the idea of what was happening behind me fresh and spiky in my mind, it made it feel like a hell of a lot longer.

And my head was feeling strange, like maybe I was getting a migraine or something.

I could hear a scuffle and some moaning as Logan tried to break apart the lovebirds.

“Don’t make me shoot you,” Scott’s voice was low and a kind of menacing that I didn’t know he was capable of.

“You wouldn’t risk bringing this entire jet down just to get your rocks off,” Logan was clearly struggling with someone else while he snapped at Scott.

“MMm,” Jean’s voice moaned. “Logan,” I stood then and punched the button for auto pilot with my entire fist.

“What the actual fuck is going on back there?” I demanded turning to face them. Jean was trying to rub herself on Logan, begging for any sort of friction while he did his best to keep her at arms length. I felt a sharp hit of anger and jealousy ricochet around my ribs. It was stronger than any such similar feelings I’d had before and I was confused as to why I suddenly wanted to grab Logan and pull him behind me.

Or under me.

Shaking that thought from my head, I tried to ignore the heat on my face.

“Need Scott,” Jean said, sounding like she’d forgotten what syllables were. “Or Logan,” she purred his name in a way that made me want to jump out the window. Logan shoved her back at Scott, who happily caught her.

“Both of you knock it off,” Logan reprimanded them as though they were children. But when he turned to look at me, it was obvious that part of the reason he’d shoved Jean off was because whatever it was that had affected them was doing something to him too. “Fuck,” The curse was quieter and more to himself as he shivered.

“Is it actually getting really hot in here?” Rouge’s voice was shaky as she asked.

“I think we were drugged,” Ororo managed. She had a light sheen of sweat forming along her brow as she watched Scott and Jean making out like teenagers. Her eyes were stuck to them as though looking away would be a crime.

“How? When?” Logan snapped. He looked a bit twitchy, standing too close to the lovebirds. “You two need to fucking stop,” Irritated both for good reason, and for the uncomfortable pressure that was forming in his chest.

“Storm?” Rouge questioned as Ororo put her hand on her thigh, far higher up than was normal for either of them.

“Marie, since when do you smell so nice?”

“Ok, I am not dealing with this,” I said, feeling a weird mix of fear, anxiety, and heat blooming in my chest. “Everyone, it’s nap time,” I decided all at once. I had no idea if I could hold more than one person at a time, but if ever there was a need to…

“You taste sweeter than sugar, honey,” I felt the blood rush to my ears and to my stomach as I registered the Ororo and Rouge had just kissed. I had to physically push Logan out of my way so I could make a direct path to the original problem… Jean and Scott, who were about three seconds from peeling off their suits.

I grabbed each of them by the back of their neck, as if scruffing a misbehaving pair of puppies, and pulled them apart. They both looked up at me in shock for a moment before falling back together, limp and frozen in time.

“Secure them in their seats please,” I commanded Logan as I made my way over to Ororo and Rouge. Logan finally moved to do as I asked and I wondered if he was feeling the same wobbly feeling I was as I stopped in front of the next pair of us.

“Yes ma’am,” Logan purred and I ignored that wave of want that his graveled voice pulled through me.

Ororo and Rouge at least appeared to be trying not to cause a scene, but they were eyefucking quite openly. And their hands were wandering.

“It hurts in my chest,” Ororo told me as I pulled her hand off Rouge’s thigh. Rouge whimpered at the loss, but had steeled herself for at least the moment. “Like I need to touch her or I’ll die,” she sounded so scared. I broke my heart because I didn’t know what was going on and so I couldn’t help her. Or my other friends.

“We’ll get you home and Hank will know what to do,” I assured her. The best I could think of.

She buckled herself into her seat as Rouge reached for her arm, begging for contact again. I pressed my fingers against Ororo’s cheek and her eyes went hazy and she went limp, her seatbelts holding her upright.

I had never figured out why some people froze more solidly than others. Logan always seemed to keep his feet when frozen, but almost everyone else turned into noodles. I turned to Rouge who was looking at Ororo with a sort of pained look that I couldn’t place. It was somewhere near lust, of course, but there was something that spoke of fear in it too. I wondered if either of them had lusted for a woman before.

“I promise, I’ll release y’all as soon as I can, so please don’t fight me,” I told her. I wasn’t particularly southern, but y’all was something I’d picked up from someone and never managed to put back down. I touched her face carefully and she laid back in her seat, her hand still resting on Ororo’s arm.

“How are you so calm?” Logan demanded through clenched teeth. I could feel my heart beating at a higher rate than normal, but if Logan thought I was calm, he didn’t realize that. Which was good, he didn’t need to worry about me.

Also alarming because usually he could tell when someone’s heart was racing (and he’d teased me about it more than once).

“I was hoping you weren’t being affected,” I groaned. My head felt full of cotton, like everything was in a soft focus and there was tea waiting for me when I sat down, that kind of feeling.

“All I can smell is them,” He growled, taking a step towards me.

“Sit down and buckle up,” I told him, my voice a bit shaky. There was a terrible ache between my thighs, like someone had scooped out my insides and were about to carve me like a pumpkin.

Logan stepped closer and for a second I thought he was going to listen. If I had them all held, maybe it would be easier. Maybe I could focus on holding them still instead of the fact I really wanted to know if Logan’s tongue tasted like cigars or not.

I bet it did.

“I want to smell you,” Logan’s pupils were blown beautifully wide. “And only you,” he was staring down at me like I was the only thing in the entire universe. I wished it was true, that he felt that way about me. But I knew it was whatever we’d been covered with. I knew it wasn’t real.

“Sit down,” My voice was weaker than I wanted it to be.

“Why can’t I smell you?” He was almost just talking to himself, annoyed that he could smell everyone else’s arousal over mine.

I walked backwards towards the captain’s and copilot's chair, pleased that Logan followed. But I wasn’t quick enough and he managed to get his hands on my hips. I brought my hands up between us, pushing him away.

But he was always so much stronger than me, so I struggled to get any space between us. Besides, as soon as he was in my space, something in me really wanted to drown in him instead. Consequences be damned.

“If I drop you here, I can’t lift your heavy… heavy ass off the floor,” I panted as he leaned down to inhale deeply at my throat. I surprised myself at the whimper that left me when he placed the first open mouth kiss at the only skin exposed on my neck over my suit.

“Fuck,” He moaned so low in his chest I could feel it vibrate in mine. “Let me just… just touch you for a second,”

“Logan, it’s not real,” I told him. It didn’t ease the ache in my gut but it helped keep my mind clear. Plus there were four different strings already pulling my brain tight. I was wildly, uncomfortably aroused, but I wasn’t about to lose control just because the man I had a crush on was kissing my neck.

When did he unzip the top of my suit to get to more skin?

“Please,” He moaned against my throat again. “Just one kiss, then I’ll behave, promise.”

“I don’t believe you,” I murmured, trying desperately to push him away. But it felt so nice to have him like this. It was something I’d thought about far more times than I’d ever admit to anyone. And my hand was in his hair.

But it wasn’t real, he didn’t really want me.

Why would he?

“Y/N,” Logan groaned as his hands moved to find my chest. I gasped at the sensation of his warm hand covering one of my breasts. I wanted so badly to surrender to the feeling, to let him touch and feel and devour me whole.

But I knew it wasn’t real, and that hurt differently enough that I finally got my last two working brain cells together to push him off.

“Fuck, Logan, sit your punkass down,” I snapped, feeling tears in my throat. It would be so much easier to give in. To at least feel something good for once. To finally figure out what it would feel like to be with him.

But it wasn’t real, wasn’t real, wasn’t real… and I knew I would hate myself when it was over if I gave in now.

Logan gave me a sassy smirk, watching me breathing hard as a reaction to him and what he’d done.

“Don’t you feel it too?”

“I don’t feel anything,” I lied. The snap of my words seemed to surprise him, but only deterred him long enough for me to sit myself in the Captain’s chair and buckle in. “Now, don’t touch me,” I commanded him. I knew if he touched me too much I’d give in. That at some point, the effects would overwhelm me too. Best to keep him away.

“No,” He growled. “Wanna smell you, wanna touch you, wanna fuck you,” His eyes were so hazy and it made my center pulse with need and that empty, endless ache. But the endless ache was an old friend, I’d sat with her before. I could sit with her now too.

“I need to call the mansion,” I told him.

Maybe ignoring him would help keep him at bay. I knew it wouldn’t. Even without the nonsense going on, he’d never been a particularly good listener unless he wanted to be.

And he sure didn’t want to be right now.

“Don’t interrupt or I’ll not let you smell me ever again,” I told him. This seemed to work better as he sat cross legged next to me on the floor, perked up like a dog waiting for a bone after having done a trick. I felt a wave of lust wash over me at his eagerness to please me. My core ached, knowing he’d gladly lap me up for his reward.

“Did you find it?” Charle’s voice over the radio should have been a relief but it made me angry because it wasn’t the right voice. But I bit back my annoyance and tried to respond coherently.

“We’re flying back.” My voice was choppy as I took too many breaths. “I have everyone but Logan frozen, we…we were dosed with something,”

“Y/N,” Logan grumbled impatiently.

“What’s happening?”

“Umm…” I suddenly was too embarrassed to say what was going on.

“Y/N? Is everyone alright?” The alarm in Charles’ voice snapped my brain cells together with enough force I was able to manage one sentence.

“They’re trying to fuck each other,”

“Oh.” The embarrassment would have killed me had Logan not gotten impatient and started sniffing along my leg, pressing open mouth kisses along the seams of my pants. I swatted at him, trying to get him to knock it off. He just smirked and kept pressing, glad to at least have my hand in his hair.

“I have them frozen, but Logan…” My voice got caught in my throat as Logan moved to bury his face in my hip, nuzzling and smelling his way up my ribs until his face was in my armpit. “Jesus fuck, knock it off,” I whined like a kid who was late for nap time. All upset and no anger. I felt tears in my eyes and in my throat because this was all simply Too Much.

“Are you safe to get everyone home?” Charles redirected. I grabbed Logan’s face and glowered at him.

“Take a nap,” I told him and tried to snag him in my powers. It worked but he was frozen with an arm across my lap and his face trying to find a way into my suit. “Sorry, I had to freeze Logan too, but he’s harder to hold onto.” I tried to keep my words even. But I could feel all five of them now, like trying to hold onto the strings of too many balloons but only with my teeth.

“Y/N, can you fly everyone home?”

“Yeah, I think so. Best prepare them for us, tell Hank it was Malachi Mitchelle, maybe that’ll help.” Logan’s string slipped in my mental grip and he growled as he pulled himself free.

“Gotta go,” Logan said loud enough for Charles to hear as he sat up on his knees to turn off the radio connection. “Now, you,” His eyes were hungry and his gaze made my insides twist with want.

“Logan, please just stop,” I begged. I was specifically trying not to feel anything for him, to not let him do something he’d regret later. I knew he didn’t want this. At the moment, I’m not sure any of us really did.

“No,” He challenged me. Logan’s hands traced my body, one moved around to the inside of my thigh and inched its way closer to my center. He held my eyes, daring me to tell him I didn’t want this.

But this wasn’t about what I wanted.

“It’s not real, you don’t want this,” I felt those tears again, warm in my throat and stinging behind my eyes. He looked up at me and brushed the tears from one of my cheeks with his thumb.

“No, I do want this… I’m always gonna… never going to stop,” He was breathing heavily but smirking. My center pulsed and squeezed around nothing because dammit all if that wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear.

Logan’s smirk got lost when he buried his face into the crease made by my leg and hip. He breathed in the scent of me again and the moan that escaped him had my heart ricocheting in my chest.

“Never going to get enough of the smell of you.” I found my hands in his hair, fingers intertwined in his tuffs as if I had the strength to pull him away from my lap.

“Why?” I asked more as a general question, ‘why is this happening to me?’ or ‘why do I bother trying to be good?’ or maybe even a bit of ‘why would you say that to me?’

“Cuz I love you,” Logan murmured against my stomach. I looked down at him, that ache in my pelvis shimming at the closeness of him. But the ache in my chest? That longing for something real? It burned brighter. I knew he wasn’t trying to tease me this time and somehow that made it worse.

While influenced he probably thought he was telling the truth.

I couldn’t take it when I knew the fall would come when this madness passed. The look in his eyes when he realized ‘oh god, what have I done?’.

I felt tears in my throat again. I wished what he said was true, that his ardent behavior was stemming from somewhere real and true. But it wasn’t.

It simply wasn’t.

I grabbed his face in one hand, the other still in his hair, and squeezed his cheeks together while he looked at me like he never wanted to look at anything else.

“Go the fuck to sleep, you petulant child,” I ground out, all the anger in me aimed at myself and the fact that I had to deny myself this wonderful thing. This thing my body craved.

This time, Logan’s eyes went hazy and blank, his jaw went slack, and his limbs all buckled under him. I finally had him wound tight enough to hold.

But now I had to hold him, and the other four, for the next 43 and half minutes. Which was the expected time remaining, according to the flight data that flashed on one of the panels. I had no idea if I could hold on to everyone that long, especially Logan who was too good at shaking off my powers.

[Masterlist]

[Logan Masterlist]

[Part Two!]

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arlana-likes-to-write · 7 months ago

Text

Sins of the Family

Part 3 of Family and Pawns

Warnings: car accident, mention of death and grief, kidnapping, implied sexual assault, mention of suicide, suicidal thoughts, mention of past sexual assault, death, usage of a fire arm, angst with a happy ending, everyone needs a hug and no one is okay

Note: This is maybe the last story of this AU unless I get a request for another part.

Word Count: 10k (I don't want to talk about how long this)

“Cooper!” You shirked as the eldest Barton shot you with a water gun. It was an all out water war between you, Tommy, and Billy against the three Bartons plus Kate and Yelena. The twins thought it was unfair that the two Avengers were on the same time but the Black Widow has to remind them that they were enhanced, they did it so the teams would be more even. Speaking of your brother, Tommy ran behind Cooper and dumped a bucket of water on him. Before the eldest Barton could turn around, he was gone.

“Hey!” He whipped the water out of his eyes. “I thought we said no powers.” Tommy appeared next to you.

“That’s what you get for targeting our sister,” he held up his fist and you pumped it against his.

“Kids, lunch is ready.” Laura called out. You liked Iowa. It was quiet, peacefully, and the Bartons were welcoming. You sat next to Nate with a towel wrapped around your shoulders. Natasha warned you that the youngest Barton would probably be quiet, still processing the death of his father.

“So, what do you want to do after we eat?” You asked. He shrugged, biting into his hot dog. It was just you and the young boy at the table while everyone was pilling food onto their plate. “Can I tell you a secret?” You whispered to him. Nate slowly nodded his head. “It’s okay to be happy and still miss you.” You saw his little body tense up but he still refused to look at you. “It’s okay to be angry with him,” you continued. “And still love him.” A small whimper left his mouth and your heart broke for him. You wished you could take away all of his pain. You would take it all away if you could.

“It’s okay to be angry with Nat and be glad she’s alive because he is no longer here.” It was like the dame broke. You saw his body shake as quiet tear fell down his cheeks. You panicked, body frozen as he dropped his hot dog and climbed onto your lap. His face pushed against your damp shirt and you felt his tears. You glanced up and saw Laura, wide eyes and about to walk over to her emotionally distraught son but you held up her hand to stop her. “I’m going to pick up. Okay, buddy?” He tightened his grip on you. You stood up from the table, your towel fell to the ground, and you walked over to the swing that was handing from the tree.

This was what he needed. Someone to let himself cry without adding to their own grief. So you let him cry against you as you pushed yourself on the swing. “I’m sorry,” he said once his tears stopped. You forced him to look at you. There was snot running down his nose and his cheeks were blotchy.

“Hey, little man, it’s okay to cry. It’s okay for your feelings to be all over the place but we are here for you. Whatever you need,” he nodded and rested his head back on your chest.

“Does it get easier?” That was the million dollar question. You met an older lady while you took a walk during your lunch. She asked about your family not knowing the truth. While she learned about your parents, she told you about her late husband. You asked her the same question. She told you a metaphor that her therapist told her. Your grief was like a red button instead a box with a ball that rolled around. Since the grief was newer the ball would hit the button all the time, no matter what you were doing your grief was powerful. You felt it in everything you did.

Over time, the box got bigger and the grief stayed the same size but it wouldn’t hit the button all the time. You sighed, kissing the crown of his head. “Yeah,” you whispered. “It gets easier.”

“Remember,” Wanda said, glancing at you and the twins. “Billy, you need to bring in your permission slip. Tommy, we have to go to the mall and get you new shoes,” the twins nodded their heads. “And you have a meeting with the home school agency. Did you finish your essay?” You glanced over the book you were reading. The trip to Iowa was done and it was time to head back to reality which meant starting home school. The couple asked if you wanted to attend another school but the incident with Henry and Coach Griffo made you lose faith in the schooling system. Home school was the best option for you and they agreed.

“I finished it before we left for Iowa.”

“Atta girl,” Natasha winked at you from the driver’s seat.

“Nerd,” Tommy mumbled with a smile on his face. You rolled your eyes, bumping your shoulder against his.

“Dork,” you countered. You were an only child for the longest time it was such a nice change to mess with someone.

“Children,” Natasha warned but before she could continue her scolding. You heard the impact before you felt in. Instinct kicked in and you braced yourself for the impact, your body tensed with fear.

The collision was violent, the force of the impact threw you forward. You felt the searing pain shoot through your body. For a moment, everything seemed to spin, the world titled at an impossible angle. The sound of the twins screams echoed in your ears. Once the car settled, your vision was blurry but you saw Wanda and Natasha with their heads to the side. They weren’t moving. You tried to look at the twins but a sheering pain caused black spots to cover your vision. A soft whimper left your lips and the world went dark.

You heard a soft voice calling out to you. She was saying your name over and over again to urge you to wake up. You were so tired. It seemed easier to keep your eyes closed and sleep but the voice was persistent, a little annoying. It kept getting louder and louder until it was impossible to ignore. “Mama,” you gasped awake. Your chest was heaving, eyes darted around the foreign room. You groaned softly as the pain of the car accident caught up with you. You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down. Your hands were cuffed to metal chains that were attached to the wall. The room was four walls with two doors; one of them was boarded up with wood.

In the corner, you saw Tommy. His hands were free from restraint but a collar was around his neck. “Tommy,” you called out. “Tommy, wake up.” You said a bit louder. Still he laid still, on his stomach. “Come on. This isn’t funny wake up,” you pleaded, desperation oozing from each word. Finally, he groaned. “Oh thank you,” you said, your head leaning back against the wall.

“My head hurts,” he wined, rolling onto his back. It took a moment but he sat up quickly. “What happened?”

“We were in a car accident. I don’t know where we are,” he stumbled to his feet. “Easy,” but he ignored you, wrapped his hands around the chains, and pulled. They weren’t moving. “Tommy, stop. You are going to hurt yourself.” He shook his head.

“I can get you out,” he pulled at them again. “I can get us out and we can go home!” He fell to his butt with a huff. “What’s around your neck?”

“Probably the same thing around yours,” Tommy reached around his neck to touch the collar. You stood up and found out you could reach the mattress but not the door. You sat down and opened your arms, there was a sharp pain in your shoulder. Tommy took the opportunity to lay in your lap.

“They are going to find us,” he looked up at you. “Right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Or we’ll get out of here by our self.”

Natasha was barely listening to Sam as he spoke with local police and Yelena and Kate were looking at the car crash. Her eyes were on her wife and Billy as they sat on the back of an ambulance. The EMT was cleaning a cut on Billy’s head and his arm was in a sling to help his shoulder. Wanda seemed untouched but Natasha had a faint memory of her wife’s magic wrapping around the car before she blacked out. She wanted Helen to do a check up on him when they were done here. “Thank you officer,” Sam said. Natasha turned back into the conversation. “Are you sure you don’t want to get checked out?”

“I’m fine,” she wasn’t really. It was taken every fiber in her body to not lose it. Her daughter and son were taken right from underneath her nose. By focusing on the pain radiating through her body she wasn’t going to lose her cool. Her sister and Kate walked over to them. “What do we know?” She asked.

“It was one van that hit your car,” Kate handed her a tablet with a feed of the car accident. “Then two more vans showed up and took Y/n and Tommy.” Natasha watched as two men existed their car and ran to the back of the car to get you and Tommy. Why didn’t they take Billy?

“The plates were stolen but we are having Peter check out the original owners,” Yelena said, taking the tablet from Natasha. “We know this was planned. They never looked at the camera so we can’t run facial recognition..”

“So we have nothing on who took my kids.”

“We will find them, Nat,” Sam said. “You have my word but we need to get you, Wanda, and Billy back to the tower where it’s safe. We don’t know if they’ll come back,” that made Natasha’s blood run cold. She couldn’t let them take anyone else.

“Okay,” she said.

“Kate and I will drive you back,” Natasha nodded and walked over to the ambulance. Her body ached but she put on a smile as she got closer.

“Hey bud,” she whispered. “How are you?” Billy shrugged, not looking up at the Black Widow. Natasha frowned, looking at the witch. ‘He hasn’t spoken,’ Wanda’s voice echoed in her head. Natasha nodded. “We are gonna head to the tower with Auntie Lena and Aunt Kate, okay?” Billy nodded, jumping off the back and head over to his aunts. But the young boy didn’t reach out for comfort from his aunts. Instead, he walked right past them to the car. Natasha sighed, feeling her wife grab her hand.

“You haven’t gotten checked out, moya lyubov’ (my love),” Wanda said.

“I’m fine,” but she knew she couldn’t lie to Wanda as easily as she did with Sam. Wanda stopped walked. “Wanda-” Natasha pleaded.

“This is not your fault, okay?” Natasha looked at her sister. Yelena was leaning against the car, trying to get Billy to talk. “And I will remind you that at every step. We will find them and Billy will be okay,” Natasha surged forward capturing Wanda’s lips into a kiss. The kiss was frantic, messy as Natasha hung onto Wanda.

“I can’t lose you,” she whispered against Wanda’s lips.

“You won’t. I’m here. I’m right here.”

You let Tommy fall asleep, resting between your legs and you ran your fingers through his hair. You wanted to close your eyes and sleep but you couldn’t. What if when you closed your eyes and the door opened and they came in to take your brother? So you sat and replayed moments in your head. The first time you met the Romanoff-Maximoff family and the night the couple told you they wanted to adopt you. They were going to find you. Until then you had to be strong and protect Tommy.

Finally, you heard the door unlock and slowly open. The sound caused Tommy to stir awake but you kept your arms around him as 3 men walked in; two were carrying bowls. “Food,” the man up front said. He was Russian and the men behind him set the bowls near the mattress. But you both didn’t move. “You are going to need your strength.”

“What do you want with us?” You asked. He didn’t answer, instead he gestured to the man on his left and he walked over to you. He ribbed Tommy from your arms. “No!” You jumped to your feet but the man held your brother by his throat and put a gun to his temple. “Please don’t hurt him.” Tommy struggled against his capture but it made no difference.

“Let me make myself perfectly clear,” he stepped forward. “When I say you eat, you eat. When I say jump, you ask how high. Your brother’s life is my hands, do you understand my malen’kaya ten’ (little shadow)?” You glanced at Tommy.

“I understand,” the man holding your brother threw him to the ground. Before you could help, the man grabbed onto your chin to force you to look at him.

“He is collateral,” he said. “I won’t hesitate to kill him if you disobey me.” You nodded and he let you go. You ran over to Tommy and he assured you he was okay as the three men left.

“Do you know them?” He asked. You shook your head. You didn’t, you’ve never seen those men in your life.

“But he definitely knew me,” you sat back on the mattress with the bowl. It was a soup of some kind.

“He called you little shadow,” he said, sitting next to you with his bowl in his lap. Little shadow. Your spoon stopped in mid air. You hadn’t thought about that nickname in months since Jason was killed. “Do you want this?” He asked, holding up his bowl. “I don’t like it.” You laughed at the scrunch of his nose.

“Eat it,” you said, taking a spoonful of your own. It wasn’t bad just bland compared to Wanda’s flavorful cooking. “I think he’s right when he said we’ll need our strength.”

Wanda hated this. This intense feeling of worthlessness as she had no idea where her son and daughter were or who took them. She couldn’t even help her other son who hasn’t spoken or eaten since the accident. He was shutting her out and that scared her even more. “But why not take all three of your kids?” Maria asked. The available Avengers met at the tower to come together to find you and Tommy. They were in the conference room while Pepper and Happy watched Billy and Morgan. She hated being away from him but he didn’t need to be here for this. “If they want to hurt you, why did they just take Y/n and Tommy?” It was a good question and one Wanda couldn’t answer. Natasha and her made a lot of enemies throughout their time as Avengers. The list was long.

“Maybe it’s not about us,” Natasha said, picking at the skin around her thumb. Wanda grabbed her hand to stop her. “Have we found anything about Jason?” Tony pulled up the hologram of the man that took advantage of you. The sight still made Wanda’s blood boil.

There wasn’t much they knew about the man that could help them. Only child, whose parents divorced when he was a kid, and his father was in and out of rehab facilities. He was in extreme debt and unemployed. At his last job, he suffered a shoulder injury which allowed him to cash in disability checks.

“What about her parents?” Yelena asked. “Jason must have known them. There was no way them meeting was a coincidence,” she had a good point. Tony put up two holograms of your parents. You rarely spoke about them. Maybe it hurt to much to think about them. Your parents were Daniel and Harper. In 2018, two months after Thanos exterminated half of all living things. Harper was diagnosed with cancer. It seemed so unfair how much pain your family was subjected to in a short amount of time. Your mother was a house keeper while your father worked in construction. They were living pay check to paycheck since Harper was out of work while she received treatment from a Dr. Joshua Harris. Unfortunately, Harper’s treatment wasn’t successful. She passed away. Your father took his own life two months after his wife passed. In three years, you would return and your parents were gone.

“We are missing something,” Natasha stood up suddenly. “If they were being blackmailed or were involved in something there wouldn’t be a paper trail.”

“Nat is right,” Sam said. “Yelena, Kate go talk to Harper‘s doctor maybe he can tell us something.” The duo stood up to leave the room, Yelena squeezed Natasha’s shoulder before they left. “Peter, Maria, and Bucky will try to find an angel on ().” A plan was made. It wasn’t a lot but it was something. Natasha and Wanda left to go find Billy. He was laying on the couch, watching Morgan play with her dolls.

“Hey,” Wanda said, sitting down next to him. “Have you eaten anything?” He shook his head.

“Why don’t I make some mac and cheese?” Natasha suggested. Billy brightened up slightly.

“And a hot dog,” The Black Widow smiled.

“Anything for you, bud,” she walked into the kitchen.

“How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?” Helen gave all three of them a clean bill of health besides the normal ache and pains. Bill frowned, moving to rest his head on her lap. “Talk to me, dorogoy (sweetheart). Please.” She ran her fingers through his hair.

“I can’t feel them, mam,” he whispered. “I keep trying but I don’t know where they are. I-,” his voice cracked. “That’s what hurts mama. I want them home.” Wanda saw the signs of Billy’s powers getting out of control. They were similar in that sense when their emotions got overwhelming their powers were unpredictable. It was a work in process to help him contain it. The witch forced Billy to sit up and moved him so he sat on her lap, his chest against hers.

“Breath, Billy. I need you to breath.”

“I can’t,” he gasped and his hands twisted in the fabric of Wanda’s shirt.

“Yes, you can,” Wanda kept her voice soft. She watched Natasha walk over with the plate of food. She almost dropped it at the state of Billy was in. “Your mom and I got you,” Wanda held out her hand for Natasha to grab. She put the food down and took her hand. Gently, Wanda placed Natasha’s hand on their son’s back and traced soothing circles. “Just focus on us.” Wanda began to hum, a simple lullaby she would sign to them when they were babies. It seemed to work. She felt Billy slump against her and his breathing calmed down.

“You are doing so good, bud.” Natasha said, locking eyes with Wanda. If there was one thing Wanda loved about Natasha it was her eyes. They were so expressive. Even when her face was so stoic, her eyes gave away so much.

“It’s okay,” Wanda smiled. “Everything is going to be okay.” She said it for all three of them. Everything was going to be okay.

When the door opened again, you and Tommy were playing Concentration. It was the same man from before. He walked over to you, twirling a key in his hand. He grabbed onto your hands and unlocked the cuffs. “Come with me,” you rubbed at your wrists. “Both of you.” You stood up and the two men grabbed Tommy. “You can call me, Dmitri, okay?” He put his arm around your shoulder as the two men walked out of the room. “We had a mutual friend. Do you know who?” Outside the room, you call tell you were in an abounded hospital. Empty beds with rusted frames sat against the peeling walls, the mattresses long gone or decayed. The air was heavy with the scent of dust and decay. The doors that weren’t locked shut were hanging off the hinges. Your small group weren’t the only ones in the hallway but the ignored you, focused on their task of cleaning.

At the nurse station, the desk was covered in a thick layer of dust, and the files lie scattered and forgotten. Some of the signs still hung on the wall but were faded, their messages no longer conveyed a feeling of hope.

“Jason,” you finally replied.

“Oh she is smart,” he teased. “He was a good man, more loyal to his cock then the cause,” he squeezed your shoulder and the soup you ate turned in your stomach. They brought you into a room. It was a stark contrast to the rest of the hospital. The room was well kept with multiple screens and a generator in the corner. There were weapons scattered against the tables set up. It was eerily silent besides a man typing away at the computer. Your brother was forced into a chair and metal restraints were put on his legs and arms. “Are you ready for your mission, malen’kaya ten’?” You glanced at Tommy.

“I am,” you whispered. Dmitri handed you a tactical suit, similar to the one you’ve seen Natasha ware.

“Change into this,” you took it from him and hesitated. “Change now.” Your hands shook as you took off the clothes you decided to wear on the trip home from the Bartons, simple tracksuit that Kate bought for you. You weren’t blind to the way Dmitri’s eyes racked up and down your body. His footsteps moved behind you and he grabbed the zipper and zipped it up. His hands landed on your shoulders. “Good girl,” Dmitri whispered the name as if it was a secret for only you and him. The name caused your stomach to turn. “This is for you,” it was a com and you put it in your ear. “You and I are going for a little ride and you will listen to every word I say,” he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at Tommy. The sudden movement caused you to stumble into him and his free arm wrapped around your waist, trapping you from moving. “If you don’t your baby brother’s brains will be splattered all over that wall.”

“I understand,” you said. “Can I give him a hug?” He thought about it.

“Make it quick. I’m not a monster,” You walked over to Tommy and hugged him tight.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you whispered.

“Same to you,” you kissed the top of his head and walked over to the man. He said he wasn’t a monster but that was up for some debate. Delete Created with Sketch.

“Where are we going?” You asked. He blindfolded you the minute he lead you out of the building. Being in the backseat of a car was nauseating as you tried to make sense of the turns but it was impossible.

“We are almost there,” your leg began to shake but you felt his hand on your thigh. Automatically your body tensed up. “It’s okay, malen’kaya ten’, I won’t hurt you.”

“You see why I find it hard to believe,” you said. “I thought Jason wasn’t going to hurt me and we both know how that ended.” He removed his hand and your body relaxed.

“We’re here,” the car stopped and blindfold was removed from your eyes. The sun caused you to wince and it took a minute for your eyes to adjust to the harsh light. “We are at the office of Dr. Harris,” you didn’t recognize the name. “You are going to sneak into his office and place this listening device somewhere he won’t find it,” you took the device from him. “Then you will use this on his computer and it will copy all of the files, it will take 15 seconds.”

“How do you expect me to sneak in with this stupid collar on?” You asked. He pulled out a key and took it off. A weight that was on your chest was lifted off. He put a small camera on your chest.

“Remember what I have,” you sighed.

“I do,” you fazed through the car. You kept your powers on as you walked over to the office and walked through the door. You stood in a small entry way with a door in front of you and on your right. A metal sign displayed each specialties the office offered. Dr. Harris’ office was through the door in front of you and he was a medical oncologist. You frowned, ignored the tight knot that formed in your stomach, and moved onto the next door.

It was a simple waiting room, there was a few patients in the chairs. the receptionist was speaking with a young woman through the glass that separated them. The patient had a beanie that covered her head. It was no use to stay and listen to the conversation that was happening so you moved past the nurse that opened the door to call the next patient.

Lucky, there was signs that pointed you in the right direction. However, your feet stopped when you passed a large open area. There was a nurse station on one wall and spread across the room were chairs; some empty. But the people that were in those chairs were attached to IVs. Curiously, you walked towards the nurse station and read the pamphlets they had out. 20 different recipes to eat try during Chemotherapy. What is radiation? How to overcome it? You were in a cancer center.

‘Ah,’ Dmitri said. ‘I forgot you weren’t around to see your mommy sub come to the horrible disease,’ When you were younger, your parents saved enough money to take you to Cooney Island. All the kids at school talked about riding a roller coaster and how cool it was. So you were anxious to go on it. You were nervous and your parents kept saying you did not have to go on it. That no matter what you were their brave girl. You went on it and hated every second of it. The way your stomach dropped at each turn made you sick. You were experiencing that same feeling now. ‘Continue, my little shadow,’ he said. ‘His office is down the hall.’ You nodded and walked that way. The sooner you were done, the faster you could be back with Tommy, safe in the 4 wall cell. Safe wasn’t the correct word you would use but it was better than be separated. You fazed through the doctor’s door. He was sitting at his desk, typing away at his computer. Bookshelf’s were behind him, decorated with pictures of different families. ‘You are gonna have to get him to leave.’ You rolled your eyes. Easier said then done, you thought, how the hell were you going to do that?

As if someone heard your prayer a knock came to the doctor’s door. “Come in,” you moved to the corner as the door opened and the receptionist you saw enter.

“Two Avengers are here to speak with your,” you froze and stomach flipped. Avengers. Two Avengers were here. Your family. ‘Don’t,’ the man hissed in your ear. ‘Don’t forget what I have.’ Oh you didn’t but maybe you could get their attention.

“Of course, please send them right in,” the doctor stood up and straightened the white coat he was wearing. The door opened wider as Kate and Yelena walked in.

“Dr. Harris,” Kate said, extending her hand for the doctor to take. “Kate Bishop and this is Yelena Belova. Thank you for meeting us.” The doctor shook her hand. He went to shake Yelena’s but the blonde refused and sat down in the chair.

“Of course. Anything I can do to help the Avengers,” he sat down and kept his eyes mostly on Kate. You could tell he was intimidate by the Black Widow. You had to stop yourself from laughing. You moved to the window ledge and leaned against it. “What is this about?”

“A former patient of yours,” Kate said. “Does the name Harper Myers ring a bell?” That was your mom’s name. Your stomach dropped. It had been a long time since you’ve heard someone say it.

“The Myers,” he spun around in his chair to look at his wall of pictures. He stood up to grab a frame and looked it over before handing it over to Kate with a sad smile. “They were lovely people,” you walked over to the couple as Kate handed the photo to Yelena. “They had a daughter that I never got to meet her.” You looked at the picture over Yelena’s shoulder. It was a picture of your mom, dad, and you as a baby. They took you o a local mall to see Santa Claus. You were crying, not very happy that a stranger was holding you. Yelena handed the photo back to the doctor but turned to look over her shoulder. Her eyes bore into yours and you held your breath.

“Can you tell us about the Myers?” Kate asked. Yelena turned around slowly. You let out a shaky breath and walked back to the widows. ‘You are toeing a dangerous line,’ Dmitri hissed in your ear.

“The Myers were hardworking people. Harper was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer in 2018. It was a miracle she survived as long as she did.” You clenched your jaw and crossed your arms, hugging yourself for some sort of comfort.

“Did you notice any abnormal behavior?” Kate asked. “Besides the obvious going through a cancer diagnosis.” The doctor leaned forward, resting his hands on his chin.

“I take patient confidentiality very seriously,” he said. “Even after death, they are entitled to the same level of respect. So I will ask again, what is this about?”

“Their daughter was kidnapped,” it was the first time Yelena has spoken. “We are searching every possible option to find her.” You watched the doctor’s face pale.

“Is this about the money?” The couple glanced at each other.

“What money?” The doctor sighed and pulled open a drawer. It took him a moment to find what he was looking for. Soon he handed the couple a folder.

“They were struggling financially to cover the cost of the treatment,” you stayed still not wanting to alert Yelena again. “Daniel’s job offered insurance but it barely covered the cost of the treatment plan Harper would need. Out billing department told them they then they came to me and refused treatment. I pleaded with them to reconsider, that I would help them find a way to pay for it. But they refused,” he sighed. Kate placed the file back on his desk.

“But they got the money?” She questioned. The doctor nodded.

“They came back two days later and said they liked to continue with the treatment. I believe Daniel said they got the money from his sister who passed away.” You frowned. Your dad was an only child.

“Did not find that suspicious?” The blonde asked.

“Of course I did but my job is try to save patients lives. I find the monetary part of my job pointless. If I could give treatment to everyone free of charge then I would.”

“Thank you for your time doctor,” Kate said. “Can you show us to your billing department?” Dr. Harris stood up without a word and walked to the door. The couple followed him but Yelena hesitated and looked towards you. “Sweetheart,” the archer said. “Are you okay?” Yelena nodded.

“Yeah,” she said. “Just,” you know I’m here, you thought, I’m here. I’m here. “It’s nothing.” The Black Widow grabbed her hand. Once they left, Dr. Harris closed the door.

‘Hurry up,’ Dmitri said. You walked over his desk and placed the flash drive into the tower. You watched as a loading boar appeared on the screen and began to count up.

“What are you doing?” You asked. The man laughed.

‘We found you through the lovely doctor,’ he said. ‘Can you imagine who else we can have? Especially when hundreds of families are as desperate as yours were.’ The bar was full and you pulled the flash drive out. ‘You did well,’ he said as you walked through the doctor’s door. ‘I’m impressed with your level of submission,’ he chuckled. ‘I thought you’d fight more.’

You wanted to fight. You wanted to kick and scream and go home but how could you. You were tied down to Dmitri as he held your brother over your head. You moved through the front door but stopped.

“We could follow the money,” Kate said. “Have FRIDAY trace the account.” The Black Widow nodded. “Hey, what’s wrong? You’ve been off.” Yelena sighed.

“We are no closer to finding her,” she admitted. “I’m worried.” Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. There was a part of you that feared they would hear it.

‘Move,’ he ordered but you couldn’t. ‘I will kill him.’ He would. You knew he could but your feet felt glued to the spot. ‘One more chance or your brother’s brains will be all over the wall.’

“We will bring her home,” Kate smiled. “Then we’ll never let her go.” They made the choice for you as the couple walked over to where their car was parked. You sighed, finally walking over to the van. The door opened and you materialized as he grabbed you and pulled in. He pinned you to the opposite door, hand loosely around your neck. You felt his breath on your face. “Do you need to be taught a lesson?” The pressure of his hand tightened on your throat. It was getting harder to get air through your lungs.

“No,” you whispered. “No, sir. It won’t happen again.” You were transported back to whenever Jason was upset with you. You took the flash drive out of your pocket. “I did what you wanted,” you reminded him. His eyes flickered to yours and the flash drive. The pressure let up and you sucked in air. He tightened the collar back around your neck and took the flash drive from you. Before he pulled away from you, he kissed your cheek and whispered, “Good girl,” in your ear.

You felt sick, bile creeping up your throat as the car began to drive. It didn’t take long until you were blindfolded again and your leg started to shake.

“That’s all we get out of him,” Kate said, ending their debrief on what they found out about the doctor. It wasn’t a lot but Natasha was certain they found you and your family through the doctor. Sam must have agreed as the direction of the conversation shifted to find the link. But the Black Widow wasn’t listening even though it was important. Her attention was on her sister, who was abnormally quiet. She let Kate do a majority of the talking, adding a comment here or there. Now she was quiet, resting her hand on her chin. When the meeting was over, Yelena left quickly. “Hey,” Natasha called out to her. “What’s going on?” Yelena slowed down, allowing her to catch up.

“Something didn’t feel right while we were there,” Yelena said, glancing at her sister. “It was like,” she paused and Natasha allowed her the time to process her thoughts. “Like we were being watched.”

“Were they there?” Did the people who had you and Tommy know they would check there? Yelena sighed, shrugging her shoulders.

“Maybe I don’t know,” With your and Tommy’s enhancements, you were a deadly combination. “It doesn’t hurt to scrub through security footage to find out.”

You heard your name being called out and your eyes fluttered open. Dmitri was back. For the first time, he was alone. His guard dogs weren’t insight. “How did you sleep?” He asked, handing you and Tommy a bowl of the same food you ate earlier.

“Well considering the circumstances,” you said, taking a bite. It tasted better than before. “What do we owe the pleasure?” He sat down in front of you, legs crossed and elbows resting on his knees.

“Your sister is pretty incredible,” he said to Tommy. Your brother leaned into your side. “She’s very protective over you, isn’t she?”

“She is,” Tommy whispered. The man smiled.

“What do you want?” You asked again.

“All will be explained but first eat,” you and Tommy both did as he asked and when your bowls were empty, you placed them down and he offered you his hand. Hesitantly, you took it and he pulled you to your feet. Unlike before he put his arm around Tommy and the 3 of you walked down the hallway. His hand was on your waist, a possessive grip that you couldn’t break away. When you entered the room before, his guard dogs were next to the chair. You changed into the suit, put the com in your ear, and hugged Tommy tight.

This time when you were brought to the car, there was no blind fold. Did he see your submissiveness as loyalty? You weren’t sure but the grip he had on you moved to your thigh instead of your hip. It was night but you couldn’t track the turns and stops with his hand on you. “Where are we going?” You finally asked.

“You’ll find out soon enough. Just relax,” he put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into him. “Why are you so tense?” He asked. “Is this not okay?”

“It’s fine,” you tried to relax but your skin felt like it was burning. You let out a shaky breath and placed your arm on his thigh.

“You and I are going to do amazing things,” he said and tried to fight the shiver that ran down your spine.

“I don’t even know what your goal is,” he chuckled, resting his head on top of yours.

“Perform well tonight and I’ll tell you everything.”

The van stopped a block away from a warehouse. “There are 4 guards,” he showed you a security footage of instead the warehouse on a tablet. “I need you to go inside, disable and erase the security footage, kill the guards, and open the doors for our team.”

“Kill,” you whispered. The other things you could muddle through. But killing innocent people, you weren’t sure if you could do that. He handed you a pistol with a silencer. “I don’t kill people.” Each word you spoke shook with your nerves.

“You killed Jason,” that was true but that was out of self-defense. If you didn’t kill him, he was going to kill you. “It’s rather simple,” he maneuvered your hand to attach the gun to your hip. “But the gun to their heads,” he used his finger to lift your head. Your eyes locked onto his. “And blow their brains out. Simple.” There was nothing simple about it. “Are you ready?” You weren’t. All the color drained from your face. Could he hear how fast your heart was beating? “I asked if you were ready, my little shadow.” His face was in the crock of your neck. You felt the vibration of his words against your skin, causing your hairs to stand up. You weren’t ready. But if you failed or disobeyed what would happen? Would they go after Billy? Or maybe Nathaniel? Lila? Or Cooper? You couldn’t risk the safety of your family. His lips grazed your pulse. You nodded, licking your lips.

“I’m ready.”

“It’s the same van,” Natasha said to the Avengers with screenshots of traffic footage behind her. It took her, Yelena, and Kate hours to scrub through the footage. At first they found nothing but soon they noticed a black van, always changing license plates and they could never see the driver. They were good which worried Natasha. They weren’t amateur kidnappers. They were professionals but they made a mistake, well 2 mistakes. “The color of the van looks black but it isn’t. The color is sable and only 2 car shops in the city carry that color.”

“We pulled the records of those names and almost reached a dead end but Yelena found our connection,” the blonde smiled and changed the screen to a single white patch.

“What is that?” Maria asked.

“It’s a nicotine patch to help people quit smoking. A majority of them can be bought over the counter but others require a prescription,” Yelena explained. “We cross listed the list from the detail shops with those who have a prescription and he found,” the screen changed again to a man. “A Lucas Bennett.”

“Mr. Bennett has a history of gambling and drinking away his money but he also visited Dr. Harris.”

“Where is he now?” Sam questioned.

“FRIDAY is already pulling up current employers and addresses. It’s just a waiting game,” Natasha said, looking at Wanda. Her hand rested on her chin. “We find him he will lead us to Tommy and Y/n.” She said it convince Wanda and herself. They were so close to finding her other kids.

“Miss. Romanoff, I’ve located Mr. Bennett.” She looked at Sam.

“FRIDAY send us the location,” he said. “Avengers Assemble.”

You hated this. Your palms were sweat as you held the pistol. On quiet feet you walked through the warehouse to the first guard. A mantra echoed in your head and you were surprised it was Yelena’s voice- ‘I know exactly who you are. A hero. A protector. A sister.’ At this very moment, you didn’t feel like any of those things. A hero wouldn’t kill innocent men just doing their job. A protector would stand up to Dmitri and find a way to save Tommy. No, you were weak. A spineless fool. You put the barrel of the gun against the guard’s head, closed your eyes, and pulled the trigger. ‘Very good. One down,’ you opened your eyes and stared at the body at your feet. A pool of blood formed around his head. ‘Three more to go.’ You let out a shaky breath and tears formed at the corner of your eyes but you moved on, a job needed to be done.

When you lived with Jason, you were prone to dissociating. It allowed your mind to be protected while he raped you. You found yourself doing it now as if your mind was gone and your body moved on auto pilot. The two guards went down easily, their blood pooled on the floor and splattered on the wall they stood next to. In your ear, Dmitri praised you. Every time he called you ‘his good girl’ the little food in your stomach turn. ‘3 down, one to go.’ he said. ‘Good girl.’

You wanted to rip the com out of your ear, stomp on it. You wanted to go back in time and save those three men you murdered. To go back and stop the car accident but you couldn’t. So with the last guard that stood by the security office, you placed the barrel to the back of his head and pulled the rigger. His body slumped to the ground.

A few weeks ago, you woke up at three in the morning. With your throat dry and you were in desperate need of some water but the water bottle you had was empty. Kicking off the blankets, you braced the cold air of the house and headed to the kitchen. You expected it to be empty so you could fill your water bottle up and quickly go back to sleep. It wasn’t. Natasha was sitting at the kitchen counter and she appeared to be crying? Her sobs were muffled due to her hand being over her mouth but you saw her body shake. You remained frozen, not used to the scene in front of you. The normal level headed Black Widow was sobbing in the kitchen and were lost on what to do.

‘Mom,’ you made your presence known. She was startled, apologized, and asked if she woke you up. Instead of answering, you walked over to her and pulled her into a hug. You felt her body tense up but soon relaxed into you and cried. It could have been hours or maybe minutes but you held onto her tightly. Soon she pulled away and apologized again but you told her it was okay to cry. It was okay to not be strong all the time.

Instead of getting water, hot chocolate was made and you sat with her on the kitchen floor. You talked about everything.- her time in the Red Room, the red on her ledger, and the guilt she felt which lead her to working with SHIELD and the Avengers. Wanda found you and Natasha on the couch fast asleep the following morning.

But the conversation stuck with you and you found yourself thinking about it now while you stared at the body on the ground. There was more on your ledger. After all these years, Natasha was still trying to forgive herself. How long was it going to take you?

‘Hurry along.’ You nodded and fazed through the door to the security office. You plugged in the flash drive and watched the security footage delete, the alarm system turn off, and the metal garage door open. On cue, black vans entered the warehouse and men you didn’t recognize began to open the wooden boxes with crowbars.

“What are they looking for?” You asked, stepping out of the office. They paid no mind to you and continued on their work. You walked over to one of the men. Once the wooden box was open, he pulled out of a brief case. He placed a piece of tape over the finger print scanner and he opened it when it beeped.

“They are here, sir,” the man to Dmitri over his own com.

‘Perfect,’ you heard the smile in his voice. ‘My little shadow you did it!’ He was so proud of you but it filled you with fear. ‘Those pills are psylock. They enhance neural pathways to allow for manipulation,’ each word he spoke, sent a shiver down your spine. ‘Now we don’t also have to take baby brothers has collateral. Everyone will be good obedient soldiers,’ the world around you seem to blur.

“What are you planning?” You questioned. “Why are you building an army?” He scuffed.

‘The world is dirty A filthy, disgusting place so it needs to be rebuilt. You’ve seen the horrors of it. Together we can make it better,’ you had to stop yourself from laughing. This man wanted to make the world better when he was part of the problem. He contributed to the darkness. He was a monster not a savior.

Shooting pulled you out of your thoughts. You gripped the gun in your hand tighter as gun shots bounced off the walls. ‘Run back to me,’ Dmitri said but your feet remained frozen to the ground. You heard them. The voices of the Avengers. ‘Now!’ Still your hesitated when you locked eyes with familiar green ones.

“Mom,” you whispered. They found you. The relief was evident on her face but her eyes asked a question - where is your brother? You smiled, dropped the gun, and ran back to your capture. Ignoring the shouts of your name.

Natasha was losing her patience as she grabbed Lucas by the shoulder and throw him into an office chair. He was supporting a gun shot and she knew that wasn’t the only injury he was going to have tonight. “Let’s be honest with one another, okay?” She smiled, feeling her wife’s eyes on her back. The other Avengers were dealing with the other goons. Sam allowed Natasha, Yelena, and Wanda 10 minutes alone with him. “I really want to kill you but I can’t because you have something I need. So answer my one simple question. Where are my kids?” He laughed.

“Go to hell,” the Black Widow’s smile didn’t falter.

“Mr. Bennett,” she dug her finger into the gun shot and he let out a muffled scream, biting down on his lip. “I’m the easy way,” she moved behind him and forced his head to look at Wanda. “Do you see that beautiful woman over there? I get the pleasure to call her my wife and you do want her to find the answers by force.”

“I’m not scared of her,” he spat out.

“I would be,” Yelena mumbled.

“Moya lyubov’ (My love),” Natasha looked at the witch. “Let me talk to him.” She let go of his face and walked over to Wanda. With the hand not covered in his blood, the Black Widow put her hand on the back of Wanda’s neck.

“Find only them, little witch,” she whispered.

“I wont kill him,” her lips twitched and each words was laced with her deep accent. “He will wish for death.” Natasha gently kissed her forehead and let her go.

“I told you,” Yelena said as Wanda’s fingers glowed red. Natasha smirked as her fingers touched his head and he began to scream.

“How did they find you?” He asked with his hand tightly wrapped in your hair as he dragged you into a room you’ve never been in. Hew threw you onto the bed and you scrambled to sit up.

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. The man paced in front of you. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me.” H wasn’t acknowledging you to lost in his thoughts. “Please,” you whispered. “Please don’t hurt him.” That stopped him and he faced you. You climbed to the opposite side of the bed, until your back hit the wall. You hated the look in his head. It was a look you’ve seen before. In Jason’s eyes. In every male that looked at you as if you were a toy, a piece of meat for them to taste.

“Strip for me,” he said, removing his tip and setting a pistol on the bed side table.

“I’m sorry?” You questioned even though you fully understood what he said. He chuckled.

“I am getting tired of having to repeat myself,” he rolled up the sleeves to his elbows. “I said strip.”

“We found Tommy,” Yelena said through Natasha’s com as they ran through the hallway of the abandoned hospital. “He’s safe minus a bruise on his face.”

“Copy that,” Wanda answered. “We are still searching for Y/n.” They came to a intersection. “I’ll go left and you go right.” Natasha hated the idea of splitting up but they needed to cover more ground.

“Okay,” she squeezed Wanda’s hand. “Be safe and let’s bring our girl home.” The witch squeezed her hand back and took off. The Black Widow let out a shaky breath and ran right. As she ran through the empty corridors, her mind kept turning into a darker place. The emptiness and coldness of it all reminded her of the Red Room. Endless hours she was shuffled through those halls; going to training or the ballet bar or back to her room. Now two of her children have been subjected to the same darkness. The sound of gun shots sent her heart in a panic and pulled her out of her thoughts. Another shot. Followed by another. She swung open the door with her gun drawn but her form faltered when she saw you; wearing only underwear, blood splattered across your face, and a gun in your hand. You pointed the gun at Natasha.

“M-mom,” you whispered. Your eyes were frantic, wide, and scared. Natasha holstered her gun.

“Yeah, it’s me,” she held up your hands when you didn’t lower the gun. “It’s me. It’s your mom.” Delete Created with Sketch.

You had to be dreaming, right? There was no way Natasha was standing in front of you. He had to have drugged you. “Can you put the gun down for me?” She asked, taking a step closer to you.

“Stop, don’t come any closer,” your hand shook but the Black Widow stopped walking towards you.

“I’ll stay right here but I need you to put that gun down.”

“I can’t,” you whispered. Didn’t she understand. You had to protect yourself from her and the men in his organization. “What if they come back for me?” Natasha shook her head.

“They won’t,” she said. “I’m here and you are safe.”

“Safe?” You questioned with a bitter laugh. “Why does this keep happening to me?” You asked, hitting yourself on the chest with your free hand. “Why do people keep using me? I can’t-” your voice cracked. Your throat began to burn as you tried to keep the tears at bay. “I can feel his hands on me. His breath on my neck. Why does this keep happening?” You pleaded with her to have an answer.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. Sometimes the world is a dark and evil place and you’ve been subjected to a lot of it.”

“It’s not fair. It’s not fair.” You readjusted your grip on the gun. “I can’t do this answer.” You put the barrel of the gun to your temple.

“Sweetheart,” Natasha took a few steps forward but you backed away from her. “You have every right to be angry and upset with how the world as treated you but I promise you whatever happens next I will be there. By yourself or at your back. Just please,” her own voice shook. “Put the gun down and we can go home.”

“Home?” You questioned. You heard footsteps rushing towards the open door and you pointed the gun. It was Wanda. “M-mama,” you whispered.

“Hi, my sweet girl.”She smiled.

“I c-can’t go home,” you said. “I killed those guards and stool information from a doctor. I’m - I’m,” your heart was pounding against your ribs. It was hard for you to get air into your lungs. You put the gun back to your temple.

“You did those things to keep yourself and Tommy safe,” Wanda said. Her voice was strong and steady. “We or the others won’t think of you any differently.”

“Tommy,” you said. “Is he safe?” Natasha nodded.

“He is. He’s with Yelena and waiting for you,” this time when your mom stepped forward you didn’t move. “So is Billy and Kate and Morgan. Just please put the gun down and we can go home.” Home? Home was where you were safe and loved by those around you. You could laugh and joke with your brothers. Play board games at the dining room table. Your hand shook as you set the gun down. It was hard to keep yourself standing and before your knees hit the ground, strong arms caught you. You buried your face into Natasha’s neck and sobbed. Your body shook from the intensities of your cries. Your tears wouldn’t stop. You felt Wanda’s magic enter your mind and every thought, memory went away and you welcomed the darkness.

When you came too, you were laying in one of the medical rooms at the tower. You were sandwiched between Billy and Tommy. The twins were asleep, their hands twisting in the fabric of your shirt in a tight fist. Wanda and Natasha were in the chairs on either side of you fast asleep. You sighed, looking up at the ceiling. It reminded you of when they found you after Jason’s attack. They sat by your side until you were healed. You were starting to wonder if you being part of this family was doing more harm then good. “You’re thinking to hard, dorogoy (sweetheart).” You looked at the witch, who was rubbing sleep out of her eyes. You offered her your free hand and she took it.

“I’m sorry,” she shook her head.

“Do not apologize,” she said. “None of this was your fault.” It was hard to believe that you were here. You held tightly onto her hand, scared that if you dropped it or looked away she would disappear. “Hey,” you forced your eyes away from her hand and looked at her. “You are home. You are safe. This is real,” you nodded. “Say it back.”

“This is real,” you repeated. “I am safe. I am home.” There was a shake in your voice that caused Billy to take up. He slowly looked around, eyes laced with sleep. His eyes locked onto yours.

“Your awake,” he said, sitting up quickly and throwing himself into your arms.

“Easy, Billy,” Wanda said. The force knocked the air out of your lungs. It was heightened by Tommy waking up and joining the hug. They hugged you tight as if they to were afraid you’d disappear. There was an ache in your body but you ignored it. You were home. Safe and home.

Natasha got the twins out of the room with the promise of getting ice cream. It was harder for Billy to leave your side but you gave him a smile and promised to play Mario Kart with him. It was just you and your moms and a part of you wished the twins were still there. You felt small under their gaze as you picked at the threads on the blanket. “Tommy filled us in on somethings that happened,” Natasha said. “Do you want to talk about anything?” You crossed your legs and starred at your hands. There was so much you wanted to say but it hurt.

“It was the group Jason worked for,” you whispered. “They found me through my parents. My parents needed money for my mom’s treatment so as an incentive to pay them back I was the bargaining chip,” you shrugged. “In the end, my mom died and my dad couldn’t pay them back so he committed suicide but a debt still needed to be collected,” you pushed away a few tears. “They needed me to steal information from Dr. Harris and get them into that warehouse to steal those drugs. And Dmitri,” you felt bile rise. You closed your eyes and you felt the couple place their hand on top of yours.

“Was like Jason, Coach Griffo, Principal Cook, and Conner. Men that tried to take something that wasn’t there’s to take,” you reopened your eyes and moved your fingers against their hands. It helped ground you. “He made his advances well known but when you found me at the warehouse he was upset and made his move. I killed him,” you sighed, biting your lip. “Natasha found me right after I did it.” You were not looking forward to the next part of this conversation. The Black Widow said your name and you looked at her. Her green eyes were a little glossy.

“I need to ask you this and I need you to be 100% honest with us, okay?” You nodded. “Are you suicidal?” You looked forward, unable to look at either of them.

“I-” you cleaned your throat. “Sometimes I feel their hands on me and the heat of their breath on my neck. I want it all to stop.”

“You didn’t answer her question,” Wanda said. Her small comment made you smile and chuckle softly.

“Because I don’t have an answer for you,” you answered. “I wish I did but right now I feel so dirty and mind is so dark and I don’t feel safe. I’m -”

“Stop apologizing.” Natasha cut you off. “Nothing has been your fault.” You nodded. “And thank you for being honest with us. So here is what’s going to happen,” you looked at her. “You are going to stay at the tower and be monitored by Helen.” That was fair.

“You are going to start speaking to a therapist,” Wanda added on. “Sam has found a few and you can decide which one you like.” You nodded again. “Sweetheart,” you looked at Wanda. Her green eyes matched her wife’s, glossy with tears. “You really scared us. We weren’t sure what was going to happen.”

“I’m-” you stopped yourself. “Thank you,” you said instead. “Thank you for saving.”

“I meant it,” Natasha said. “In that room, I said no matter where life takes you we will be by your side.” she ran her hand through your hair. “My firefly, you saved yourself. Time and time again, it has been you. We are here to show you how far you’ve come.” You smiled. It was a long and scary journey ahead of healing but you wanted to overcome everything you’ve been through. You weren’t a pawn but a queen and it was time to show the world who you are.

#wandanat x reader #wandanat x you #wandanat x y/n #wandanat x daughter!reader #natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader

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sofs16 · 1 year ago

Text

rehearsal?

my first lando fic hehe

lando norris x influencer!reader

fc: madeline argy

liked by landonorris, and 2,484,595 others yn u gotta loveeee spring time

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liked by 653,686 others landonorris freshhhh

view all 172,585 comments

landowins LETS GOOO MONACO

liked by landonorris, mclaren, and 3,272,228 others yn humahumahuma

view all 83,686 comments

ynlauver whats a humahumahuma

⤷ yn @ynlauver idk… when do we ever know what i’m saying tho

mclando4 mclaren wyd here 😋

━ yn just tweeted !

yn @yn • 1h

STUPID FUCKING STUPIDDDDDDD

15:22 • 05/27/23 from earth • 543k Views 54k Reposts 10k Quotes 143k Likes 10k Bookmarks

Replying to @yn amelie @ynsbaee • 1h WHAT HAPPENED MOTHER?

Replying to @ynsbaee yn @yn • 41m your mother is an idiot. WHO CALLS QUALIFYING “REHEARSALS” AND THINKS THE CARS GO IN ONE AT A TIME AND SAYS IT TO THE FUCKING DRIVERS IM SO STUDPIC IM GOING TO MFKSSM 😭😭😭

jess @ynsracetrack • 30m

is yn talking abt f1.. HELLO?

15:52 • 05/27/23 from earth • 1,383 Views

21 Reposts 11 Quotes 943 Likes 2 Bookmarks

Replying to @ynsracetrack lia @ynloml • 1m THE FUCK SHE MET LANDO AND OSCAR

ynupdated

liked by landonorris and 13,383 others ynupdated NEW| Yn with Lando Norris at the Monaco Grand Prix! Via @ mclaren

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landonoririzz lando.. we see you…

landohasrizz so proud of our boy! met his long time crush 😵‍💫

⤷ ynxoxo who wouldnt have a crush on my wife?

liked by landonorris , charles_leclerc, and 4,978,808 others yn @ landonorris @ oscarpiastri @ mclaren is my public apology for calling qualifying “rehearsals”

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landonorris Anytime! You looked great today 🧡

[ COMMENT DELETED ! ]

landonorris Had a great time at rehearsals with you! [ COMMENT DELETED ! ]

landonorris Anytime! Hope you enjoyed 🧡🧡🧡

[ COMMENT DELETED ! ]

landonorris Anytime! Hope you’re enjoying Monaco so far 🧡

⤷ yn oh believe me, i did ;)

landonoriszz lando😭

mcla1en user landonorris has stoped working

oscarpiastri We had a good laugh, all good! Enjoy the race tomorrow 🧡🏆

━ yn just followed back @ landonorris ! ━ yn just followed @ lando.jpg !

━ @ lando.jpg just followed back @ yn!

ynupdated

liked by 2,586 others ynupdated NEW| yn with a fan leaving the Monaco gp with P2 champion, Lando Norris! view all 112 comments

yncutiebae oh we’ve lost her.

liked by landonorris, and 7,383,595 others yn mans got p2 and made me drive. i see how it is, norris. + sun here has got a GRIP on me view all 1,218,596 comments

ynwifeys HARD LAUNCH WHAT

ynmotherly mother knows what she did putting that last slide in her hard launch

landonorris Well, I am a passenger princess and you’re a better driver 😁🧡

⤷ yn awwwieee our lil lando princess ❤️😊

⤷ landonorris youre ruining this for me

⤷ yn buckle up sweets, you're in for a lot more! youre stuck with me for the week! ⤷ carlossainz55 landonorizz ❌ landohasrizz ✅

lando.jpg

liked by yn, and 843,585 others

lando.jpg day 4

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f1over giggling. lando following back yn even if he doesnt usually follow back people (literally only follows his main and daniel’s jpg acc 😭)

yna @ynlandos • 4d

guys is ynlando still alive.. they havent interacted with each other since monaco … 😓

17:21 • 12/27/23 from earth • 12k Views 2k Reposts 532 Quotes 5k Likes 112 Bookmarks

replying to @ynlandos lia @ynloml they can’t be over, i refuse.

landonorris

liked by yn and 3,282,596 others

landonorris Word on the street is me and my gf broke up? Huh? Lando NoRizz never took off for a reason 🧡 Happy 7 months @yn lovely 🫀

view all 1,119,495 comments

carlossainz55 Lando Norizz certainly took off, what are you talking about, my muppet friend?

oscarpiastri Bet you’re grateful you were the one who brought up Yn to be invited to the GP 😂

⤷ landonorris shhh pastrami shhhhh

⤷ yn thanks babe

liked by landonorris, and 7,338,696 others

yn i’ve done a lot of researching over the last 7 months to the point i can become the team principal! (andrea this is a JOKE IM SORRY). anywyas, love u my cutie patootie photographer @ landonorris loveulovuelovu

view all 1,670,707 comments

landonorris i am NOT a cutie patootie!

⤷ yn fine, no cuddles ig

⤷ landonorris IM A CUTIE PATOOTIE,NEVERMIND

#lando norris x reader #lando norris #landonorris #mclaren #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #formula one #lando norris x female reader #social media au #smau #lando norris smau #lando norris social media au #madeline argy #f1 fanfic #f1 imagines #lando 4

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luvistqrzzz · 1 year ago

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L♡VE THEORY- sim jake oneshot teaser

i think im fallin' in you

deeply and slowly

NOTE- the earlier oneshot idea has been changed into an upcoming smau w changes to the plot, so check it out here!

PAIRING- jake x f.reader

SUMMARY- For you love was a game, like a theory better left un practiced. But what happens when you cross paths with Hybe Uni's star soccer player, Jake and sparks fly? Can he explain a way out of your love theory? Or will you get tangled in his games of love?

Alternatively where Jake Sim reminds you way too much about your first kiss from summer camp.

GENRE- fluff, angst, college!au, ex-crush!jake, crush/acquaintances to strangers to lovers, physics major!jake, photography major!reader

WORD COUNT- idk... hoping 8k to 10k// TEASER- 0.35K

TAGLIST- open! Send an ask or comment

@4hysgf @kishmish-ihate @noascats @tnyhees @beomgyusonlywife @txtbrainrot @chaechae-23

WARNINGS- profanity, drinking and college parties, jake being kind of a douche (dw he redeems himself!), more tba

RELEASE DATE- tba, but hopefully i'll finish writing this before my summer break ends

A/N- this is set in the same universe as The Accidental Polaroid, you can find some coinciding plot lines but the smau can be read as a stand alone ofc!

You were never good at sports. It wasn't like you hated the concept of it but rather you hated playing it. You had never been one of those physically fit and active people, eager to run around and multitask. Also you had terrible hand/leg eye coordination for a 20 year old.

When as a six year old, you broke your leg whilst playing soccer, you just grew a particular dislike towards it. Call it a childish habit or your inability to understand the game but soccer wasn't your thing. And that has continued well into your adult years.

Just like love.

Too bad for you, Sim Jaeyun loved sports. Or in particular soccer. Well, saying he loved it would have been an understatement because the boy literally breathed in the sport.

And it was during one such soccer match did you meet him. Normally you would have preferred to stay at home but majoring in photography had its pros and cons, one such being clicking pictures for the college's soccer team as they bathed in all their winning glory (or sweat).

You hadn't seen the players up close before but standing at the side of the field, your camera in action, you could understand why so many students gushed about their good looks. "Heartbreakers first, Heartthrobs second", your friend Kazuha had told you after her brief relationship with Taehyun.

You were, in all sense, a professional person. You weren't the one to be distracted by their looks, the game or the cheers the crowd erupted into when Hybe Uni won the match 1-0. But then you locked eyes with the star player of the match. It was like a flash, just enough for you to click a picture of him, not even five seconds but you felt yourself go still.

And it wasn't only because of the fact that the dyed blonde haired boy looked attractive with the smirk on his lips and the playfulness in his features as he stared straight into the camera. No, it was his eyes. His warm brown eyes that you had seen somewhere…

why are we so complicated?

love's a word i've always hated.

Feedbacks are highly appreciated <3!!

work belongs to @/luvistqrzzz do not copy, repost or translate my work

#📂.l♡ve theory #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen oneshots #enhypen smau #enhypen jake #jake x reader #enhypen au #enhypen fanfics #jake sim #jake enhypen #sim jake #enhypen #enhypen jake x reader

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hlficlibrary · 2 years ago

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HL Fic Library 🌸 Short Fics

(Part Two ~ 5k-10k)

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find our other recs here.

🌸 Just Your Jinx by @larryatendoftheday (T, 10k)

Harry Styles may or may not have accidentally jinxed his extremely fit new neighbor, and it's not so easy to make things right.

🌸 a garden in bloom by momentofclarity / @gaycousinlarry (G, 10k)

Louis used to live the quiet sweet life of a small business owner in the English countryside.

Then Harry Styles came along.

🌸 Make Him Want to Sin by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird (E, 9k)

The stranger’s sharp gaze landed on him immediately, the eye contact shattering through Harry’s defenses. For the first time in his life, Harry had an instantaneous reaction to someone. The man stared down at him with interest, like he wanted to take Harry apart and put him back together again, piece by piece. Harry wanted that more than anything, and he wanted it right now. It took every ounce of strength he had ever possessed to not drop down to his knees instinctively.

All from one glance.

Harry is a curatorial assistant at the London Museum of Natural History, on the day of the big annual gala he catches a glimpse of someone unexpected.

🌸 Give Me One Excuse by green_feelings / @greenfeelings (T, 9k)

Louis gets dumped by his fiancée and Harry is his replacement. It's not their decision to get engaged, but it's their decision to get married.

Or, an Arranged Marriage Royal AU.

🌸 You Deserve It All by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings (NR, 9k)

Just once Harry would like to face his ex and feel confident, but he's shit at confronting Nick and unfortunately his shopping skills aren't much better. Thankfully for him, the cute sales boy at the clothing shop knows a thing or two about fashion and making ex boyfriends green with envy.

🌸 Night Out by @helloamhere (E, 9k)

Symphony hall was the first place Louis had felt at home in this city, and he always had the box to himself. Until tonight.

🌸 a body wishes to be held & held by @turnyourankle (E, 9k)

Harry wants to return the favour after Louis helps him out with his heat.

🌸 Sweet to the Soul, Health to the Bones by wildhalos (T, 9k)

“When you walk in, every single thing stops. I see you, only.” Someone keeps declaring their love on the brick wall outside Louis’s office window. It's possible Louis should be concerned, but the romantic in him would like to believe a stalker would use something slightly more vicious than chalk and pretty words.

🌸 Second Time's the Charm by @cherrystreet (E, 8k)

Louis’ mother is convinced she met her son’s soulmate at the market. Louis is extremely hesitant to go on the blind date she’s set up, but she’s persistent, begging and pleading, pulling out all the stops. After all, mothers do know best.

(Or maybe they don’t.)

🌸 Now That It's Over by @lululawrence (NR, 8k)

“What are the odds we would both be at Mariano’s on a Thursday night?”

Louis’ shoulders tensed. What the hell was he doing here?

“Harry? Hi? The odds are pretty crazy, yeah.”

Harry smiled down at Louis the way he used to, but there was also a glint in his eye that Louis absolutely did not like. Harry was also dressed in his favorite black and white striped women’s jeans and a printed shirt only he would ever be able to pull off. It was quite rude of him to come and interrupt Louis, particularly while looking so good. Louis hadn’t seen him since he’d finished moving his shit out of what was once their shared flat, so this being the first time seeing him wasn’t exactly providence in Louis’ mind.

Or the one where Harry and Louis broke up two months ago, and Harry just might be sabotaging Louis' dates.

🌸 good enough (for you) by localopa / @voulezloux (G, 8k)

omega louis is next in line to rule the pack. in spite of the rule saying he needs an alpha to rule, he creates an impossible olympics to find a worthy mate. harry somehow wins the gold.

🌸 Mr. Tuesday by @jaerie (E, 8k)

Tuesday. Harry loved Mr. Tuesday.

It was true that most of his clients were regulars, but there was just something about Mr. Tuesday that would make him stand out amongst the others even if he hadn’t booked almost every single Tuesday with him for the past year. It was the first day of Harry’s work week and Mr. Tuesday always eased him into it in such a pleasant way.

🌸 Holding out for something more by SunTomato / @sun-tomato (NR, 8k)

"This isn't a social call, is it, Curly?" Harry's gaze drops to the floor. "No." Harry takes a deep breath, fists clenching at his side, before he looks up again. His eyes meet Louis’ with a mix of fear and determination. "I want to make a deal."

OR The one where demon Louis really doesn't want Harry to trade away his soul, even if he can't explain why.

🌸 I Don't Love You I Want in Your House by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup (T, 7k)

Harry comes into the bakery almost every day trying to woo Louis.

Zayn works out at the gym maybe a little more than necessary so that he can get the chance to watch Liam train.

Niall is the only one who ever checks the mail.

🌸 Your secret’s safe with me by lightswoodmagic / @lightwoodsmagic (M, 7k)

He knew almost everything about Haz, considered him his best friend. He knew his favourite movies and books, how he liked his coffee, knew how many pets he had and what he was most afraid of. Louis knew how to calm him down when he was panicking, and that he’d lost his virginity to his ex-boyfriend when he was 17. He knew that Haz had curly hair, green eyes, that he was tall and considered himself slightly awkward. He knew his Instagram account that only had aesthetic pictures or ridiculous jokes, but in the all the time that Louis had known him, he’d never learnt, or been allowed to know, Haz’s full name, what he sounded like, or what he looked like.

Louis didn't care.

Or, when Louis' favourite singer comes back and announces he's performing again, him and the rest of his group chat decide to go. When Haz, the man Louis' fallen in love with without meeting him, says that he can't, Louis tries his best to convince him with a drunken phone call, hearing his voice for the first time. It's not until he's at Royal Variety that he swears he can hear it again.

🌸 'Sup by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics (G, 6k)

Gemma really wants her little brother to sign up for a dating app and get back in the game after a messy divorce. Harry thinks he’s way too old to swipe. They compromise to devastatingly embarrassing results.

Meanwhile, all Louis wants is to finish the play he’s been commissioned to write, but one of the regulars at his local coffee shop keeps distracting him.

ft. older larry, pushy gemma, harry being a disaster gay and silver fox louis.

🌸 Easier by @allwaswell16 (E, 6k)

The last person Louis wants to see is his ex-boyfriend who also happens to be his soulmate.

🌸 Bijou by @kingsofeverything (E, 6k)

Being in love with his best friend wouldn't be so awful if Harry didn't have to listen to him constantly complain about how the guys he dates don't measure up.

🌸 We're Getting Better With Time by @haztobegood (T, 5k)

Hello Harry, this may seem out of the blue, and even weirder if you don’t remember me. We hung out for a few weeks back in the summer of 82. A picture of you showed up on my facebook tonight, I think because we have a few mutual friends on here. I know we haven’t spoken in forty years, but I thought I’d just shoot you a message. I hope you’re doing well. L

Or, the one where Louis is single, Harry is recently divorced, and they reconnect on Facebook forty years after they first met.

🌸 old macdonald had a farm by vintagehistories / @adoredontour (NR, 5k)

Louis is a hedgehog, Harry is a fish, Niall is a parrot, Liam is a golden retriever, and Zayn is Zayn. It’s a crazy twenty-four hours.

🌸 Only Reason by @letsjustsee (NR, 5k)

“We are so lucky to have with us one of the leading experts on beekeeping in the modern age, Dr. Louis Draper.” No. No, no, no… “I know I speak for many of us when I say that this man’s books have guided our practice, or helped us get started,” Harry continued, and Louis watched as the crowd nodded their heads in agreement. Oh shit. No. What? No. But then Harry was gesturing towards him, saying “Dr. Draper?” into the microphone, the crowd was applauding, and Louis found himself walking up the stairs to the stage.

Or, Louis is most definitely smitten with Harry from the second he sees him, but he is also most definitely not the world's foremost expert on beekeeping. He decides to roll with it anyway.

🌸 Get Nesting & Soft Knots by ishiplouis / @pocketsunshineharry (G, 5k)

AU where Omega Louis who runs a nesting materials Youtube channel meets Alpha Harry who knits his own blankets

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barkhoffman · 1 year ago

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1, 23, 2, 4?

the character everyone gets wrong

honestly Adam, I think people forget his feminist vegan punk gf broke up with him for being "too angry" (which implies he is VERY angry due to the general stereotype of feminists, vegans, and punks all being angry types of people individually let alone when someone is all of those identities at once), like he's not a smol softe innocent bean he's a cunt LMAO

I also laugh every time I see that one post that says he's the one genuine person in Saw who doesn't lie when like. there's literally an entire scene with Gordon confronting him angrily for lying the entire movie KJFDLJFDL LIKE GUYS I KNOW YOU WANNA FUCK LEIGH WHANNELL BUT LET'S BE SERIOUS HERE

23. ship you've unwillingly come around to

this is going to sound weird but. I didn't actually even think about hoffstrahm until I realized it was already one of the Big 3 ships here LMFDKLFDJGDF like I wouldn't say I disliked it I just. never considered it before?? I got into this fandom with hoffdon on the mind if you can believe it

of course now I'm so coffinpilled that it's a category 5 autism event but

I guess as far as ones that I didn't really like the idea of too much at first, there's chainshipping, just because it's a lot softer than my usual tastes (she says, writing 10k+ words of soft fluffy coffinshipping), but no yeah I can see the appeal now it's pretty cute

2. a compelling argument for why your fav would never top or bottom

let's pretend I don't write everyone as vers for a minute and live in a world where I care

Hoffman would NOT top he is a little NEEDY BROKEN WHINER BOY with daddy issues who would imprint on a houseplant if he thought it might say it was proud of him, he needs DICK up his ASS and he needs it NOW

god I can't do this I need him to raw me and/or Strahm until I/we cry

4. what was the last straw that finally made you block that annoying person?

ok so I haven't blocked anyone in this fandom YET but I admit I get close whenever I see C/stas M/ndylor's stupid little ugly-ass right-wing face in the HOFFMAN tag when he's NOT BEING HOFFMAN like first of all he's only hot when he's Hoffman, if I have to see him with a mustache one more time I might end it all, secondly can we stop simping for actors and every role they've ever been in because we like one (1) role, down the road of simpery lies nothing but pain and disappointment

idk maybe it's because I've seen too many people decide they're in love with the actor because they love the character only to realize that the actor is a shit person and have a total fucking meltdown, but I Don't Trust Like That and I have very strong actor-character separation mentality lmao

also also if you mistag your posts (like making a post about Adam but tagging it with every character in the franchise) I'm thinking about killing you in a Saw trap I hope you all know this

[choose violence ask game]

#ask game #Saw #Sawposting #ask tag #anonymous

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ladylaviniya · 3 months ago

Text

The Bronze Dragon ★ Chapter 11 ★

||Chapter || Masterlist || Chapter ||

Chapter Summary: Wise words of an unexpected friend help Laviniya through her turmoils to push through this. A trip into the city turns into a lewd lesson with Aemond.

Pairing: Dark!Aemond Targaryen X Laviniya Targaryen (My OFC)

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Post-War Dance of The Dragons, Mentions of Targaryen Heritage, Alternative Universe, Humiliation, Implied Murder, Depictions of Dead Corpse, Implied Rape. *Smut This Chapter* Fingering, Dubious Consent, Carriage Sex

Word Count: 10k

Author Notes: ★ I do not have a beta, and I am grateful for everyone who helps me edit. I type this story on my phone using Microsoft Word App. Thankyou and please be kind. (If it's simple spelling like colour vs color, understand I am Australian and we love adding extra vowels.)

Inspiring Song: "Demons" by Imagine Dragons

The door of the room knocked.

“Enter,” he called. The door creaked open and an old woman came in with bundles of clothes.

The elderly woman announced her purpose, “I have come to dress the young miss, your grace,” her voice respectful but firm. The fabrics were white, and cream in colour. She curtsied and placed them on the table.

Aemond smiled at the crone before turning back to Laviniya, gently grasping her hand and raising it to his lips. He pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles, his eye never leaving her face. She continued to scowl at him. She despised this false kind kiss. Aemond gently released her hand and addressed the old woman.

“I will await the Lady Laviniya outside,” he said, his tone commanding yet strangely gentle. “Be sure she finds her way to me when you are done dressing her.”

The old woman nodded. “Indeed, my king,” she replied.

Once Aemond left the room, Laviniya took a moment to gather herself, breathing deeply to steady her nerves. Then the old woman’s voice broke the silence.

“You know, I’ve never had to clean such a dirty woman before,” she cackled, humorously. “You were worse than any sow I’ve seen in the mud.”

Despite the old woman’s harsh words, Laviniya forced a polite smile on her face and rose slowly from the bed, placing her feet softly on the floor in front of her.

“Thank you for tending to me, Madam,” Laviniya praised.

As she stood, the old woman moved closer to her, her eyes critical as she appraised Laviniya’s breathless appearance.

The elderly woman was short and rotund, her once-auburn hair now completely white with only a few strands of orange remaining. Her face was covered in spots and blemishes, the toll of age and sun evident on her weathered skin. Yet despite her rough exterior, Laviniya could still see the same gentle eyes that had offered her a brief moment of compassion the night before.

The old woman approached Laviniya with a bundle of clothes in her arms, her smile soft and warm like that of a proud grandmother.

“I have had this with me for many years,” she mused, her eyes roaming over Laviniya’s form. “I was a sprite young thing, many moons younger than yourself even, but it would’ve dragged behind me then. I gather it would fit you perfectly.”

Laviniya silently raised her arms, submitting to the elder woman’s ministrations. The first garment was a soft and lightweight chiton, pure white in color. Then came the houppelande, a cream-colored garment adorned with an intricate ivy pattern in glossy ivory.

The old woman continued to speak as she dressed Laviniya, her voice soft and reflective. “In a different time, I was to marry a Lannister lad, son of a lord. But he met his end by the sword before our wedding, stupid boy. You, on the other hand... You will marry a king. You and your Targaryen king will bring about a new era of prosperity and love for your people. How fortunate you are, girl. I cannot understand why you would run from such a promising marriage.”

As the elder woman dressed a silent Laviniya, she paused, expecting some kind of response. When there was none, she huffed in annoyance and delivered a sharp smack to the girl’s hip with her withered hand, jolting Laviniya back to attention.

“Are you listening to me, child?” she sharply scolded.

The unexpected slap from the old woman caused Laviniya to gasp in surprise. Caught off guard, she hastily began to explain herself, her words spilling out in stammering half-sentences.

“Y-yes. I only ran from my king because...” Her voice trailed off, the excuse sounding pitiful even to her own ears.

“You carved him up like a pork roast,” The old woman cut her off before she could finish, her voice sharp and to the point. “But still, he loves you enough to desire you in his bed and to bear his children,” she said firmly. “Be grateful, girl.”

With that, the elderly woman began to fasten a slender belt around Laviniya’s waist, the strap a soft mauve color, the fabric mottled and faded with age.

As the old woman pulled the laces of the belt tight, Laviniya could not help but cast a melancholy glance downwards at the fabric. Her chin trembled slightly as she spoke, her words laced with despair.

“He does not love me,” she whispered, her voice soft and tinged with sadness. “He only cares about the Valyrian blood in my veins. If I did not have silver hair and lilac eyes, he would never have looked at me twice.”

Laviniya couldn’t dare let her thoughts fall into lies about love and happily ever afters. He had placed his mouth ....there- and if the old woman hadn’t interrupted, goodness knows how far the King might’ve taken to her body.

The old woman chuckled softly at Laviniya’s comment, her voice tinged with a hint of amusement, “Dragons dance with other dragons, not because of their wings or scales, but for the might of their roars and the heat of their flames,” she said tenderly.

Laviniya’s brows pinched angrily, her fingers clenched in frustration at the old woman’s dismissive attitude. She could feel the anger and indignity rising within her. All the dragons were dead so Laviniya had heard.

“And what would you know about dragons?” she retorted, her tone biting and scornful.

Suddenly the laces of the belt pulled harshly tight around Laviniya’s belly, the constriction bit into her rib cage sharply.

“Plenty,” the old woman grumbled, her voice sharp and authoritative. “I am many years your elder, child. And I once served Queen Alysanne’s court, while my brother pursued knowledge in the Citadel.”

Laviniya’s eyes widened in surprise as she registered the elder woman’s words. Queen Alysanne had ruled the Seven Kingdoms before her more than sixty years ago. If this woman had truly served in her court, she must be very old indeed, potentially reaching her nineties or even a century in age.

“Your name?” Laviniya inquired, as she turned to fully face the elderly woman.

The old woman met Laviniya’s gaze with a warm smile, bowing her head respectfully before speaking. “Mara Manderly, my lady,” she said, her voice tinged with a touch of pride and confidence. “-and If I may be so bold, even the Queen Alysanne and King Jaehaerys, known for their great love, and many children to show for it had their own share of disagreements and squabbles.”

Laviniya’s eyes widened at Mara’s words, surprise and realization dawning upon her face. The old woman smirked as she continued to share her history wisdom.

“Oh yes, my dear,” Mara said, chuckling softly, “Queen Alysanne had a temper that could burn a hundred ships. And King Jaehaerys, well, he had a habit of provoking her quite intentionally. He took fancy to folding the corners of her book pages down instead of using a bookcard to mark the last placement of the reader...so in turn the Queen often mixed sand into his water and wine canisters- I gather many wine testers would have rathered the wine be poisoned with how often she did it.”

Laviniya sourly believed the situation was rather different in comparison to what Aemond and her had done to own another. They seemed to involve more blood and loss of life or risk thereof.

Mara circled around Laviniya and firmly guided her to sit down by the small table, where a wooden brush lay waiting. With a gentle and almost maternal touch, she carefully began to brush out the young woman’s long locks of milky white hair, her fingers were skilful and practiced as they moved through the strands.

“How did they...manage their behaviours?” Laviniya asked during the calm silence and gentle brushing. Maybe there was a chance Mara could solve the temperaments of another two dragons.

"Well, my dear," Mara Manderly said with a sly grin, "As many husbands and wives do, they take their passions and grievances out on each other in the marriage bed...After all-" She paused and bent her head down at Laviniya and winked, her voice carrying a hint of mischief, "How do you suppose they made all thirteen babes?”

Laviniya blushed furiously, “Oh.”

So that’s what Aemond had done to her? He had taken his grievances out on her that morning. She curled her lips inward before allowing herself to smile; she had to be grateful if it was only that and not the executioners block.

The old woman smiled, “Oh indeed, after such nights, many book pages returned to normal and many wine testers survived the discomfort of grainy dirt teeth.”

So, it was sex that could prevent blood spillage and death?

★★★

Aemond sat confidently on his horse, using only his uninjured right hand to steer the beast. He reckoned he felt more alive after eating out the fair lady Laviniya’s cunt. His cock was rather sore, still full of blood with his balls filled with seed. He tried to think on other things to erase those feelings.

He tried to focus more on his hand than his cock.

His left hand, heavily bandaged and hidden beneath the folds of his cloak, was incapacitated. Despite the injury, however, his eye was focused and intense as he scanned the surroundings.

He couldn’t help but take in the sight of Laviniya coming out with Mara Manderly from the inn in the wedding dress.

Aemond’s steely features softened upon seeing Laviniya, his usual sternness gave way to a ghost of a smile. It was as if all the dark thoughts and frustration of the morning suddenly vanished when he laid eyes on her.

In his mind, she was a vision of beauty, almost ethereal in her loveliness. Even the night before when her dress was torn and her body stained with mud, he couldn’t help but think of her as an angel. But he would never admit such a thing aloud.

Aemond gave her a slight nod, his eyes roaming over her form once more. He didn’t say a word, but his expression was one of approval and something deeper, a strange mixture of desire and possessiveness.

The day breeze blew gently through the air, caressing the bare skin at the nape of her neck, where her ivory hair was intricately braided in a style that framed her face.

Aemond leaned down from his horse, addressing Mara Manderly with a polite nod. “Thank you for tending to my bride, Madam Manderly,” he said sincerely. “I pray for your continued good fortune, and if you should ever desire it, you and your brother are forever welcome in the Red Keep.” Despite the formal nature of the offer, Aemond spoke with genuine appreciation towards the old woman.

Mara Manderly curtsied before Aemond, her ancient joints protesting slightly with the movement. “Thank you graciously for your generous offer, Your Majesty,” she said, her voice filled with sincerity. Her lined face held no indication of irony, only acceptance and a deep sense of gratitude. “My brother and I would be honoured to have the opportunity to serve you in the Red Keep in Kings Landing.”

Aemond turned his gaze to Laviniya, his single eye scanning her up and down. Without preamble, he delivered a direct question to her.

“Laviniya,” he said with a hot warning in his tone, “You will ride again in the carriage. Be truthful with me now – do I need to bind you to prevent any further escapes?”

She recalled his earlier threat of dragging her there by her hair.

Laviniya’s eyes dropped to the ground, her gaze fixing on the red-stained leather of her slippers. She knew that Aemond’s blood had seeped into the fabric, and no amount of scrubbing would remove the stain. Madam Manderly had been unable to provide her with a replacement.

Laviniya played at being submissive and obedient as she replied, “No sire, I will travel without any difficulty.”

Aemond nodded once in acknowledgment, signalling to a nearby knight. The knight stepped forward and opened the door to the carriage, gesturing for Laviniya to enter. She stepped into the carriage without protest, the knight carefully closing the door behind her.

With Laviniya now inside, Aemond rose and signaled to the rest of the traveling party to prepare for their departure. They would continue on their journey without further delay.

Inside the confines of the carriage, Laviniya quietly pushed aside the window shutters, peering out at the world outside. As she did, her eyes fell on Mara Manderly. The elderly woman remained standing there, watching the procession depart. Despite the wrinkles and weathered lines of her face, there was a warm and genuine smile to be seen on her lips as she waved farewell to Laviniya.

The sight of the old woman’s cheerful grin gave the fair lady a ray of hope. Perhaps her future, despite her dire circumstances, might not be entirely devoid of pleasant moments after all.

Many hours passed since the ivy inn. They had stopped once to eat and bid to natures call. But not once was she alone. Even as she squatted in the bushes wearing the wedding garments, Ser Gilbar who also wore a hand bandage stood nearby.

And when she sat by herself in the carriage, she let her thoughts about the morning with the king consume her. Her body would feel warm and tingling, recalling his hot breath and wet mouth lavishing over her pussy. She wished she had the moment of full body privacy, so that she could lift her skirts and explore the areas his tongue had glided. It had been greatly overwhelming until the very end where he had pulled away from her meanly.

She tried to distract her mind and watch the country side or listen to the other soldiers and guards chat about anything and everything from food, animals, tournaments to even women.

Laviniya was surprised when Aemond slipped back into the carriage with her again, joining her quietly without a word. Even though he said nothing, she could feel his gaze on her, his eyes studying her intently. His silent presence was both disconcerting and arousing, stirring up a confusing mixture of emotions within her. She tried to focus her thoughts on poor Ser Corwyn, to distract herself from the memories of that morning’s torture.

Her mind screamed to pull up her skirts and beg him to finish what he had started within her.

As they continued their journey, the tall stone walls of King’s Landing gradually rose into view in the distance, towering over the undulating terrain. The briny scent of the sea breeze, carried lazily from the distant ports, filled their nostrils, signalling their proximity to the capital. Aemond had sent ahead messengers, and as a result, the sturdy iron gates of the city, double the size of those at Harrenhal, swung open wide, allowing their procession to pass.

The enormity of the city was awe-inspiring – it was no doubt a sprawling mass, one of the greatest on the continent. The populace was an intriguing mix, with a diverse range of social classes and cultures coexisting side by side. Wealthy nobles mingled with humble peasants, hardened mercenaries dined with learned scholars, pious monks conversed with the working women of the many brothels.

The wide streets should have ensured an easy passage for the caravan, but the overwhelming crowds of curious onlookers and eager gawkers slowed their progress to a snail’s pace.

★★★★★

The carriage rumbled along the cobblestone street, its wheels clacking loudly against the path. Inside, the silence was thick and oppressive. Laviniya couldn’t help but steal glances out the window, pulling back the heavy curtain to take in the sights of the city passing by. She could feel her kidnapper’s gaze upon her, heavy and intent, as he observed her every move with matching curiosity.

As she looked out the window, she noticed just how different Kingslanding all was from her childhood memories on the one time she had come here to be presented to the King Viserys, her uncle, the father of the man who sat across from her. It dawned on her that her father had been careful to shield her young sight from the harsh realities of the less fortunate part of the city. Now she understood his actions, and couldn’t help but be somewhat grateful that she was observing it all from the relative safety and distance of the carriage window.

The cramped, narrow streets were a mazelike tangle of muddy lanes and alleys, thronged with houses leaning precariously towards the road, their windows either boarded up or shattered. The connecting passageways between the buildings were choked with a stinking, sludge-like mixture of decaying elm leaves, shattered glass and cat corpses.

A dishevelled old woman, her flesh dry and wrinkled, teetered about with a bottle of something clutched in her trembling hand – the foul liquid within sloshing dangerously. She bellowed at a septon monk passing by with a mouth devoid of teeth. Nearby, scantily-clad women leaned out of open windows, their bare breasts on display as they enticed passing merchants and sailors who had just received their wages for the day.

Laviniya tore her lilac eyes away from the disturbing sight outside the window and found herself caught in the intense, penetrating gaze of her kidnapper.

He observed her pale, delicate features, taking note of the way her hands twisted and fidgeted in her lap, in her beautiful white gown – the nervous little movements giving away her discomfort. With a hint of humour shining in his cold blue eye, he spoke, his cruel smile barely concealing his amusement.

“Does it upset you, my lavender lamb?” he mocked, enjoying the way she shook her head nervously.

She avoided his eye and looked out the window once more, her voice steady and neutral as she responded, “Every city has its downtrodden slums.”

“Yes, but none quite like King’s Landing,” he agreed. “Flea Bottom truly is the arsehole of westerosi society – overflowing with nothing but disease and depravity.”

Laviniya’s nose curdled, she couldn’t hold back a small huff, her frown deepening as she retorted, “No need for your lurid metaphors. I have eyes, I can see for myself.”

His tone remained dry and aloof as he tugged at a loose thread on his tunic.

“Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “We’re merely passing through – this is a world far removed from the one you will endure and enjoy.”

Laviniya let out a scoff, but her thoughts were interrupted when a little child passed by selling apples from her ragged petticoats.

The fair lady stated at the sweet girl, thinking back to the fields of the Vale and the lush harvests. Her soft gaze flitted between his face and the child as she spoke, her words a quiet challenge to his claim.

“Not that far,” she countered. “We shall all share the same city won’t we?”

He cut her off with a dismissive laugh, amused by her naiveté.

“Share?” he repeated. “Barely, they are like an infestation of rats. We are dragons my lamb.”

She rolled her eyes, so Laviniya was a dragon but he insisted on referring to her as a lamb as if she were just some feeble thing he’d plucked from the fields and meadows by the Runestones....not the violent beast who managed to cut him the night before.

“Yes – share,” she repeated through gritted teeth, “We don’t live in different worlds, your majesty. I believe it’s more accurate to say we all live and inhabit the same world, yet reside on very different sides of it in life – and I can’t determine whether I would prefer to being on your side, or theirs.”

His brows raised, he chuckled, “Interesting analogy – how very progressive of you.”

Laviniya’s frustration boiled over, causing her to release an exasperated sigh. She looked to the carriage ceiling, “Yes, of course, how could I forget, Aemond the Conqueror only uses his ironfist and fire to show his advancements.” she blurted out, crossing her arms over her chest and slouching into her seat.

Her scathing words hung in the air, the only sound being the carriage wheels scraping across the cobblestones. Aemond didn’t immediately respond to her jab, instead he regarded her for a few moments in silence, a smirk playing on his lips. He looked down at his hand covered in bandages before looking back up at her. He studied her intently, much like a artist would scrutinize a painting – a mixture of criticism and admiration flickering in his eye.

She fidgeted anxiously under his intense gaze, her dark eyebrows furrowing with discomfort. “What on earth is it now?” she grumbled, her annoyance growing, “Planning to whip me because I see barely any borders between us and the smallfolk? Don't you know it's rude to stare?”

His hand laid on her chest and slid up to cradle her neck, his thumb hovered over the middle of her throat, lazily drawing back and forth. He leaned forward slightly, his tone taking on a warning edge as he spoke.

He held his finger up that belonged to his wounded hand, “You should be grateful to be on my side, Laviniya,” he lectured. “Young girls just as lovely as you tend to rot and wither on those godforsaken streets – so many of them, it’s a shame.”

For a brief moment, she thought he was merely toying with her, but the firm expression in his solid eye made it clear that his words were anything but lighthearted. She should’ve known better. Aemond didn’t just tease – he tortured, relishing in the vulnerability he could coax from her. And the dark twist of his lips confirmed that he was taking pleasure in her discomfort.

He released her throat and sat back against his seat. Laviniya had no idea what type of erection the king was fighting as he sat across from her.

The sudden halt of the carriage gave Laviniya the opportunity to peer out the window, her sight was caught by a whore who emerged from a boarded-up door. The woman’s true age was hidden beneath her tattered attire – her stockings and skirts threadbare, torn, and the lace on her sleeves drooping like moist cobwebs. It was clear this particular resident of the slums had been worn down by a life of hardship and vice.

Her skin, possibly once pale and covered in a natural blush, was now caked with a layer of white lead powder, the dried clumps mixed with her thin blonde hair, resembling wet straw. She looked as if she were trying to mimic white hair, hair of a Valyrian woman. The woman’s lips were painted a harsh, crimson red that looked like she was bleeding from her mouth- but the most jarring feature was her missing nose – the tip of it gone She had been plagued by some kind of disease that ate away at her skin

Suddenly, the woman turned towards the carriage, locking eyes with Laviniya. The young woman felt her throat close up, her insides twisting with unease. The whore was just a mirror of her and what her life could’ve been if she were not the daughter of two noble houses. It scared Laviniya.

Aemond’s voice broke the spell momentarily, and she shifted her gaze away from the window. He commented dryly, “You’ve grown pale, Lamb.”

Her teeth gritted together behind her tight smile, and she responded with a false lie. “I’m just cold is all,” she muttered, rubbing her hands together and blowing into them for warmth.

It was a humid and sweltering day...

Aemond leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper, “Perhaps I can help... “

She shook her head hastily. “No, really I’m fine,” she protested, but Aemond was not one to yield easily. His blue eye narrowed, as he repeated his command. “Come here,” he said firmly. “Let me see if I can bring some warmth back into those pretty cheeks of yours.”

She could not ignore his words or the eye he held steady upon her – that same fiercely intense look of a hunter stalking his prey. It was the same look from that morning. It sent a shiver down her spine, making her skin tingle. She pursed her lips and shot him a defiant glare, raising an eyebrow in cool derision.

“No, thank you,” she refused, trying to hold her ground as she averted her eyes back out the window.

Outside, the whore shook out her hair, lifting the hem of her tattered skirt over her pallid thighs. Aemond released a loud, tired sigh, looking at the wench’s exposed flesh as he spoke.

He ignored her, saying firmly as he stood up, “Then I’ll come to you.” Aemond swiftly moved into the seat next to her, crushing her against the backrest of the chair and pinning her skirts beneath him.

“Sire I–“ she pleaded, her voice shaking slightly.

He leaned in close, his voice a hushed command, “Shhhh be silence now,” he insisted. His hand delved into the gap between the seat and the small of her back.

Aemond’s other hand moved to her thigh, smoothing the soft ivory satin of her gown over her leg. Laviniya tried not to react, her hands clenched the leather of the seat beneath her bottom. She averted her eyes from him, so she could stare out the window and watch the Whore outside as she dangled her thin spidery ankles into the gutter. Despite her ragged appearance, her feet were small and dainty.

Her eyes squeezed tightly as she gasped. Her body tensing as she felt the warmth of his breath dancing over the nape of her neck, his nose nestling into the soft mass of snowy curls. She couldn’t resist him, his presence and the heat of his hands and body overriding any desire to pull away. The scent of his breath enveloped her, lulling her like a young skittish lamb.

When she opened her violet eyes, the Whore had paused her little performance in the gutter and was peering through the window, staring directly at her. It was sinful. It was sick. But Laviniya was fascinated by the woman she could have been.

His lips brushed against her ear softly as he asked in a low murmur, “What are you looking at?” He then nuzzled her lobe with a tender kiss.

Aemond moved his head, turning to follow her gaze and look out the window. Lavender eyes, framed by thick white lashes, fixated upon the dirty cheap whore on the sidewalk. Noticing the object of her attention, Aemond’s mouth curved in a smirk.

He leaned in closer, his voice a low, silken whisper. “Ah...I couldn’t have asked for an example so perfect,” he murmured, his words dripping like honey into her ear. His hand rose from her lower back, delving into the mass of pale curls and winding a strand of hair around his fingers. “Fucking repulsive, isn’t she?”

Aemond’s words, spoken with such detachment and superiority, burned her blood, but she resisted the urge to lash out – her emotions in turmoil. Laviniya’s frown deepened, a sense of revulsion and frustration prickling within her as she watched the Whore outside trying to lure stranger with her exposed undergarments. She gnawed on her lower lip, feeling the constant shift between hatred and desire churning inside her. It was a volatile mix, and Aemond was a master at playing it, knowing that the line between these two extremes was often invisible – or non-existent at all.

Aemond’s lips flew up the side of her neck, gently kissing her pulse, and her frustration was temporarily replaced by a shaky exhale. He continued, his breath warm against her skin.

“I’d wager she was once a beautiful little thing...a heart breaker...” he whispered, his mouth hovering just above her flesh. “...cheeks rosy with just a dirty ditty, and a soft, lilting country accent on her tongue...from the north...”

Aemond’s tongue traced a path along the edge of Laviniya’s jaw. The touch was light and sent a shiver down her spine as the front of her houppelande loosened. She involuntarily scrunched her toes in her shoes and squeezed her thighs together, feeling a pleasant thrum of pleasure starting to build within her.

“Most likely, she came to King’s Landing to find honourable work – something like a ladies’ maid or a seamstress – no older than fifteen...” he said – an edge of disdain in his tone – as he punctuated the end of his statement with a derisive chuckle that made the hair on her neck rise. “No companions, not guardians or escorts, only an old madam who ran a boarding house, touching her soft cheek with her boney fingers and offered her a bed for the night, a hot chicken and ale…”

His hand, which had been resting on her lap, moved upward, shoving her creamy houppelande over her shoulders. He then placed his palm around her neck, his hot fingers making contact with the dark bruises that had formed there from the night before. He brought his head around to the other side, hot breaths and open-mouthed kisses trailing over her skin – making her gasp and swallow a moan. Her eyes remained fixated on the Whore standing outside.

“Stop...” Laviniya gasped, her voice a breathless whisper as his fingers delved beneath her bodice, pulling the fabric down to reveal bare, pale, skin.

She whimpered softly.

“Shhh...” Aemond hushed her with a gentle command, pressing his lips against her exposed shoulder, “Of course, her kindness came at a price... She sold the girl’s maidenhead for a single gold dragon pieces to some fat ugly lord.”

His hand moved from her neck, tracing a quick path across her collarbone and onto the soft expanse of flesh above her bodice, feeling the rise and fall of her chest. She licked her lips instinctively, her palms growing clammy. His voice – that low, commanding tone – had become her addiction, impossible to resist and more enthralling than any wine.

His lips smeared themselves in the hollow of her neck, a smirk forming as he continued speaking, his voice sending a shiver down her spine. “She learnt the trade – make a fine living from the hot wet cunt between her legs, and the tightest virgin ass of the seven kingdoms – her creamy skin and that innocent look in her eyes… I’m sure she was a very popular little slut,” he whispered.

Despite the innocence that surrounded her, Laviniya found herself biting her lower lip as Aemond’s hand slipped into her bodice and beneath her stays, his palm moulding to the shape of her curves. Her cheeks tinged with a rosy blush, but she was powerless to pull away. Entranced by the dragon.

Their faces were so close, their noses brushing against one another as they locked eyes – his gaze intense and fierce, her own eyes wide and glimmering with confused lust. Aemond gave her flesh a gentle squeeze. The carriage lurched forward, jerking slightly as it moved on and leaving the Whore outside just a fading memory.

Unable to hold herself back, Laviniya impulsively lunged forward, her lips capturing his. Their mouths fused in a slow, tender kiss – her soft lips moulding around his, demanding more.

Aemond broke away from the kiss, his breath warm against her skin. “Perhaps she gained a certain level of fame...” he whispered, inhaling a ragged breath before continuing. “...and became a fashionable courtesan, dressed in silk stockings and lace, adorned in the finest perfumes and dripping with pearls and diamonds. She sold her time for a three gold dragon pieces a night by then.”

Laviniya whined, her voice a sultry purr as she sought the sound of his voice, craving it, even as her lips grazed his. “And... then what?” she breathed, the need for his words – no matter how harsh – consuming her. In fact, the more cutting and cruel he was, the more she yearned for him.

Aemond groaned when she nipped at his lower lip, his voice deepening as he tried to focus on speaking. “Then,” he said, punctuating each word with another deep, possessive kiss, “She learnt to master something specialized... something to draw a wider audience...” he continued, his lips curving into a smug smirk. “Something like whips and ropes... the art of pain and pleasure...”

As she nuzzled her face against his neck, inhaling the scent of his skin, Aemond relinquished his grip on her breast and used his hand to wrench her skirts up over her knees. With his other hand, he cradled her head, grabbing fistfuls of her silken, white hair.

“Of course, eventually...” Aemond murmured against her neck, yanking her hair and forcing her chin upward, exposing her throat to him. “Her looks began to fade and her admirers’ interest started to wane...” He then gave her a gruff whisper, “Spread your legs, Little Lamb.”

She obeyed; parting her pale thighs and feeling the cool air tickle along her lower lips, followed instantly by his fingers. He brushed them along her fuzzy white hairs and down her moist lips, diving through the hot pool of her slippery clear coated slick.

“…Fuck,” he growled.

When he plunged them inside and sought out her clit with his thumb – she sucked in a sharp breath and released it on a hoarse moan.

Aemond’s smirk grew wider as he continued to move his fingers in and out of her, gently rubbing in circles to watch her hips buck and roll with his touch. He knew that she was entirely in his control now, and he was enjoying every second of it. “Indebted,” he continued, “she might one day be forced to languish in jail, at my mercy, to be bargained off to anyone who would have her – even pawned off to the very jailor himself should she be so desperate.” His tone was confident and authoritative, as he knew he held all the power over her.

Aemond’s eye remained fixed on her, watching as she clenched her fists in her skirts and ground desperately into his hand. Her shoulders shook with each laboured breath she took, her voice strangled by the short, sharp gasps that were forced from her.

Aemond’s grip on her wrist was firm, and he pulled her against him with a rough force that took her by surprise. Her eyes met his hard gaze, her breathing still ragged and uneven. Despite her surprise, she couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement at his dominant behavior. His fingers left a greasy residue on her skin, a tangible reminder of what they had just done.

So that's what that wonderful feeling lead to...she wanted more, greedy for the pleasure, she wanted him to do it again even if she despised him.

“My sweet little lavender lamb,” Aemond purred lustfully, leaning in close to her. “Don’t you know how grateful you should be to be on my side of this world?” His tone was low and menacing, and he held her gaze intently.

Laviniya could feel her lower lip trembling, her voice coming out in a small whimper. She felt small and vulnerable under his intense stare, and yet there was a thrill of excitement at the power he held over her.

Aemond quickly pulled himself away from her and adjusted her skirts back down to cover her knees. He helped pin her houppelande back on. The carriage came to an abrupt stop on the Street of Sisters, taking them both by surprise. Without a word, Aemond reached up to wipe the sweat off his own face, letting out a long, frustrated groan.

He kissed her hard on the cheek.

“Seven hells, we’re already here,” Aemond grumbled. He grabbed her wrist to prevent her from following him, and looked her in the eye. “I will be greeting the people as their king, and I need you to be a good little lamb and stay inside the carriage.” His voice was firm and authoritative, brooking no argument. She nodded, still trying to catch her own breath.

Aemond may have been exhausted, however he was able to eagerly greet his people. His adoring subjects on the streets of the city while they travelled through.

The din of shouted greetings and blessings from the throngs of people was deafening, and it showed no signs of abating as the procession pressed onward.

Throughout Aemond’s wars, his people had displayed less discord and more patriotic loyalty, revelling in his victories and exuding a near zealotry in their support. This had not always been the case, for during his father’s reign, a growing discontent had festered due to the late King Viserys Targaryen’s propensity for appeasement. His decentralized rule, though having its merits, had inadvertently empowered the greed of the nobles surrounding him. To make matters worse, the predatory nature of the neighbouring northern realms only added fuel to the smouldering fire.

During Aemond’s reign, the capital city had not only grown opulent but had also grown richer, becoming a symbol of extravagance and prosperity. This newfound affluence was a direct result of the kingdom’s conquests, with wealth and forced labour flowing easily into its coffers. Indeed, despite the King’s lavish lifestyle, there was enough abundance to go around. The citizens of King’s Landing revelled in their city’s newfound prosperity, exulting in feelings of triumph and savagery.

This extravagance was further fuelled by a propaganda campaign, which celebrated every achievement, no matter how small or exaggerated. Furthermore, the glorious tales of the Green’s golden age were constantly recounted, keeping the public enthralled and entertained. The pampering of the capital city’s residents reached its peak, with lavish feasts and spectacular tournament games becoming a regular occurrence.

Aemond, despite his notorious reputation, harboured within him a capacity for benevolence. The problem, however, was not a lack of such sentiments but rather his tendency to manifest them in extremes, both benevolent and malevolent. Unfortunately, it was often the latter that dominated his actions. However, moments of kindness, such as his aid to the starving orphans, served as fleeting glimpses of the better side of his nature.

Aemond’s open and generous gestures to the peasants and his soldiers undoubtedly pleased the common folk and boosted the morale of his troops. While there was likely a certain level of genuine kindness influencing his actions, he did not acknowledge it readily. However, that was not to say he did not hold sadistic tendencies, as he could easily order the brutal execution of helpless knights, seemingly for his own amusement or spark a war by killing his own nephew. Consequently, given his penchant for extreme actions, his fearsome reputation remained well-deserved.

Aemond turned to his knights, gesturing towards the clamouring crowd surrounding them. He issued his steady command, “Give them some coin.” The king knew that those who benefited would sing his praises to their neighbours, making it a small price to pay for goodwill. However, he lamented that his nobles and courtiers weren’t so easily won over, adding, “And make sure those ragged children get something too.”

Realizing she now had a vague understanding of what the future held for her, and being adorned in suitable attire for travel, Laviniya found her initial panic somewhat assuaged. Throughout the journey, she had been the epitome of compliance, quietly occupying her comfortable but prison-like quarters, absorbing the bumps of the uneven terrain. To her slight relief, her treatment had shifted from outright captivity to that of a more legitimate traveling companion, even if she was a reluctant one.

Despite her uncomfortable travels and his vexing company, she found herself unable to fully hate him. He had show her mercy when she had cut him. He could have let his men rape her, one by one before slitting her throat if he had so desired that as justice...

He could have turned her into the Whore she had seen earlier and let herself die inside herself slowly overtime.

For his mercy she believed he wasn’t worthy of her entire hatred. Hate, it was a powerful emotional reaction, and also because there were individuals she had held more intense dislike for in the past. Surprisingly, she wrestled with the question of whether she had ever truly hated anyone before, as there had indeed been attempts made to cultivate such animosity.

However, Laviniya was not obligated to accept Aemonds unfair actions or ignore his most harmful inclinations. How could she? That would have been akin to expressing gratitude for the events of the past week, including the murder of her father and Ser Corwyn. Why should she forgive and forget, even if it was kinder to reconsider that no one in the world was utterly evil and therefore unworthy of the energy that true hatred required?

Except...his brother was evil. She had no other word for what Aegon tried to do...it was just deplorable, sinful and disgusting- no, it was truly evil. What Aemond had done had brought her uncomplete pleasure, something that left her wanting and annoyed.

★★★★

In the near distance, the palace of the red keep loomed majestically, a colossal structure that seemed to tower over every other building they had encountered on their journey. It possessed a striking height that forced onlookers to tilt their heads up in admiration, and its width spanned out impressively, leaving little doubt that it could accommodate a significant portion of the city’s populace if the need arose.

Their journey continued as they approached an infamous bridge, adorned with numerous gibbets lining the path. These gruesome structures were arranged with a meticulous precision to match the wall’s stone patterns. Laviniya recognized the bridge, and it was at this point that her surroundings began to hold her attention for longer than a cursory glance. The gibbets held a macabre sight – corpses in various stages of decay, with many having been picked clean of flesh by carrion birds yet bearing scraps of clothing, armour, and hair that still told stories.

She couldn’t help but notice a corpse that had been captured and displayed inside one of the many gibbets. His armour was adorned with a black and red three-headed dragon emblem, and long, white hair framed his desiccated face. His tanned, dry skin was the result of prolonged exposure to the sun, yet despite his withered appearance, Laviniya could discern the identity of the unfortunate soul. The shock was like a blow to the gut.

The words slipped out of her mouth as if they had a mind of their own, almost coming out as panicked cries. Her fingers instinctively latched onto the window, her knuckles turning white. “Stop the carriage,” she repeated, her voice shaky. “Please, halt the carriage!” Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears, she couldn’t cry, she didn’t want others to see these tears shed.

The command, “Halt the carriage!” escaped Ser Gilbar’s lips, a gruff but authoritative voice. He was the eldest among them, and was also the most gentlemanly and deferential toward their captive lady. At times, she had pondered how these chivalrous instincts had endured under his cruel king’s rule, but that train of thought was far from her mind now. Yet, she felt a pang of gratitude that it was him who was on guard duty at this very moment.

The carriage came to a sudden halt, granting her an unobstructed view of the macabre sight. Suddenly, another voice, younger, entered the fray, “We are to keep moving,” said Ser Raynard. “His Majesty would not want us to delay.”

“His Majesty also expects her to arrive unharmed,” responded Gilbar with a grumble, dismounting from his horse. With a sense of determination and an ironic display of chivalry given the circumstances, the older knight walked over to the carriage and, with an oddly formal gesture, rapped on the door. As he opened it, he offered a quick bow and asked, “Is there an issue, Your Highness?”

Beyond Ser Gilbar’s shoulder, Laviniya could make out a small group of peasant children who were gathered near Daemon’s gibbet, chanting some malicious rhyme or song and taking turns hurling stones at his corpse.

“Daemon, the rogue black prince.

Here he stands – all do wince!

Daemon had a choice you see

To fall and kneel and make a plea

But Daemon, would not kneel

His vow to the pretender did not yield

So when Daemon flew through the sky

King Aemond struck him down in the God’s Eye.”

The children’s chanting prompted her to reluctantly exit the carriage, as she stumbled awkwardly stepped out of the carriage while attempting to move around Ser Gilbar. Unfortunately, her legs were afflicted by a most inopportune bout of pins and needles, resulting in a clumsy and graceless display.

“I need to see something,” she stated bluntly, her coldly distant. Any remaining urge to flee had vanished along with the unyielding principles of Ser Corwyn from days past. Even if the impulse to jump off the bridge surged through her, she was trapped – any attempt to make a run for it would be swiftly thwarted by the ever-vigilant guards or soldiers, who would hastily seize and bundle her back into the carriage.

Laviniya addressed the closest child with a gentle air, her usual agitation replaced by a facade of tranquil composure. “I heard your chant,” she began. “Is it all true?”

A young girl with braided jet black locks turned towards her, a flicker of wide-eyed awe before her hand instinctively moved to grip one of her plaits. “Yes, milady,” the girl affirmed. “My papa says so. He was a soldier in Harrenhal that day.”

Laviniya nodded gently in acknowledgment of the confirmation, her smile conveying her gratitude. “Thank you...”

Then, without any pause, a red-haired boy sidled towards them, a hint of pride in his tone. “And especially the part where he flew through the sky on Caraxes... car-car-caraxes!” He proclaimed, struggling to pronounce the dragon’s name correctly.

Laviniya’s family of house Royce, had told her that the fallen prince was trapped at the bottom of a lake, firmly bound to his dragon saddle and unable to be recovered or afforded the usual Targaryen burial rite. She had always found the details to be conspicuously vague, and now the grim truth settled upon her like a shroud. Her father had been here the entire time...

“The traitor’s daughter has come to visit him...” she murmured to herself, a momentary lapse in silence as the enormity of the situation settled on her. She forgot for a brief moment that Ser Gilbar stood within earshot, but she caught herself quickly, remembering the importance of keeping her emotions in check. She had pledged not to weep, and in this moment of quiet torment, her mind was a storm of unvoiced screaming.

When was the last time she saw her father alive? She was but a girl, was it before or after he married the Black Queen Rhaeynra? She could scarcely recall. Was it the day before her mother died or the day he came to collect the inheritance denied by Lady Jeyne Poole? Laviniya knew he held another wife, another family, Mysaria the Whore, Laena Velaryon, then Rhaenyra Targayren. Laviniya was the eldest but a runt to his litter. She never understood why the daughters of Laena Velaryon were introduced into Rhaenyra Targayrens family. Why they all were granted to live on Dragonstone, a place she used to dream about and grow enviously starved for. All she wanted was to be a dragon and fly among dragons with a dragons family...

She dearly loved her Royce relatives but after years of looking in the mirror and staring at the skies more than the flocks, she tended to wonder the same question over and over. What had she done wrong to be abandoned by the blood of the dragons?

King Viserys was the only one to ever reply to her letters. Laviniya used to cry herself to sleep, praying that her father in Pentos or on Dragonstone would reply to her letters instead of just returning them. All those questions, all those requests, all those vows and all that begging upon the parchment would never be answered.

Daemons corpse hung in front of her, dry and curled from the many days in the sun. His feet wore no shoes, his toes curled beneath his sole, yellow and white, sinewy and bony.

Laviniya reached up and touched the leathery skin.

Did her father ever touch her without her needfully grabbing at his tunic shirt? Her eyes filled with brimming tears. Not even Aemond had been so cruel, Aemond had welcomed her into his arms only the other night amongst the heavy storm. Her nose tickled. She patted the dried foot of her father's corpse again. She could touch him as much as he'd like without feeling him flinch or hearing him sigh with annoyance.

Ser Gilbar’s initial surprise was soon replaced by a deep sense of mortification. The knight’s voice held a note of restrained sympathy as he interjected, “Your Highness, I beg of you – please return to the safety of the carriage. This is not a sight befitting of a lady of your stature and-”

His words died on his lips as the sound of approaching hoofbeats cut him off. The imposing presence of the King’s massive black steed loomed over them, casting a dark shadow over the scene. Ser Raynard hurriedly followed, having been sent to retrieve his master. The King reigned in his horse, coming to a halt just a few strides away from where Laviniya stood, their eyes locked in a moment of charged silence. Behind them, the two children had fallen eerily quiet, their wide eyes fixed on the tableau before them.

The King’s voice cut through the tense atmosphere, expressing a hint of surprise. “Ah,” Aemond paused, seemingly momentarily taken aback. He cleared his throat, “I had originally hoped that you would greet each other in the next life beyond this. I did not consider you finding him among all these criminals and traitors.”

Laviniya made no move to look at him, her gaze remained fixed on the gibbet, refusing to tear her eyes away from the macabre sight of her dead father before her.

Silence engulfed her, her face a frozen mask of undecipherable emotion as a heightened sense of awareness washed over her. It occurred to her that now would have been the opportune moment to make a scene – in broad daylight, with all the eyes of the capital watching. In fact, there hadn’t been a more fitting reason to break into hysterics. Would he blame her if she did?

How much trouble would she bring upon herself if she were to suddenly collapse to her knees, wracked with heartbroken sobs, effectively stalling the progress of his schedule for an unspecified duration? And more importantly, how substantial would such a delay truly be in the grand scheme of things?

She remained steadfast in her quiet composure. Overreacting in public places felt unnatural to her, even if it momentarily seemed like the right thing to do. Her energy was depleted at this point – the sight of her father’s remains had left her utterly exhausted – and she doubted her ability to convincingly perform the role of a grieving daughter. Though Daemon was indeed her father, he hadn’t been the affectionate, caring sort.

She observed as Ser Gilbar conversed quietly with the King, she could hear their conversation of “Her father.” And “She grieves.” Followed by “Let us forget this.” It prompted the King to cast a glance between the guard and his fair lady.

Ser Gilbar returned to her side and gently touched her shoulder, addressing her with a tender and solemn tone. “Please my Lady Laviniya, you inflict unnecessary anguish upon yourself by lingering here. Let us return to the carriage?” A brief pause followed. “Come now, dear Lady Laviniya. Let us be on our way.”

Her expectations regarding benevolence from him were already at an extreme low. As a result, any instance of actual benevolence would have come as a pleasant surprise... yet she felt compelled to make one final endeavour, solely for the sake of her deceased father.

“Will he be taken down?” she asked bravely, referring to the gibbet and its grisly occupant.

She had never managed to forge a connection with her father. He had shown no interest in forming a bond with her. However, she felt a pang of guilt as she remembered how she had once idolized him and felt a sense of pride in being the daughter of a dragon rider. Suddenly, her face buried itself in her palms, and her shoulders shook violently as suppressed sobs wracked her delicate frame.

After a long pause, his answer came. “His time is not yet up,” the King replied firmly, his tone offering no room for debate. “Removing him will not alter the fact that he is gone from this world, Lady Laviniya.”

With a swift motion, he signalled to Ser Gilbar, who then gently took her arm and led her back towards the waiting carriage.

There was a lack of deep disappointment, but she made an effort to look devastated as she returned to the carriage. In her peripheral vision, she caught sight of the King tossing a few coins to the children who had recently conversed with her, and then the carriage resumed its journey.

The carriage traversed through several more gates, stopping at numerous checkpoints and passing beneath the watchful gazes of vigilant archers, underscoring the city’s formidable defences. The palace, however, was far from merely being practical and stark. Its architecture, though imposing, was also marked by a sense of grandeur and decadence. Towering stone pillars were arrayed at the entrance, each one being as thick as a man was tall, making the individual feel small in comparison.

Aemond was not incapable of experiencing empathy, but he was so accustomed to disassociating himself from others that it took a certain situation to trigger such feelings. He generally viewed people as objects to be used and discarded, only his closest kin could truly ignite feelings of guilt or compassion within him.

The fair lady was gradually reaching the requirements for bs one of those few peoples. He was intrigued by her and found her exceptionally alluring. Were she not Targaryen, the king was confident he would have taken her to wife either way until he found his silver maned baby bearer.

He might even say he found her appealing, though in more of an abstract sense. She was filled with humour, intelligence and tact that he knew to be heavily lacking in his court of women.

But despite her beauty and brains, she was not someone he had yet considered truly as anything more than a rare prize he had seized from the confines of Runestone.

She was like a sweet dessert. She was to be his queen, his bride...and broodmare.

This began to change that very morning when she had accused him of not wanting her. And for the hours on their way to King’s Landing, the king of Westeros had to admit that she may have been right. He never wanted her no.... He needed her. He craved her. He starved for her.

When Daemon Targayrens body had been fished out of the Gods eye, on the day he was killed- Aemond had given the corpse of Daemon Targayren a strict sentence of five years in the gibbet, a punishment befitting his transgressions. The same sentence had been meted out to all those who had violated the King’s laws. It was crucial for potential schemers and rebels to learn from this. Each time people crossed the bridge, they were to glance at the rotting corpse—a stark reminder of the gruesome consequences awaiting those who dared step out of line.

To Aemond, the gibbet occupied by Daemon was a symbol of his triumph in battle, survival of life and sacrifice of Vhaegar, a tale of victory that was etched in the minds of every onlooker who witnessed his downfall. More than merely practical reasons, there was a darker aspect of the King that derived pleasure from seeing his former foes humbled and exposed in such a degrading state.

...and now he had the traitors daughter. But seeing her face, that beautiful sweet, innocent look in her sadden eyes brought no dark pleasure to him, in fact he considered that it may have even hurt him. He wanted the eyes that filled with needful tears in the inn and in the carriage in flea bottom...not these ones.

It was true that she shouldn’t have been disappointed. After all, the absence of mockery could already be considered a generous act.

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

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5sosfanfictioncatalogue · 2 years ago

Text

Calum/Ashton (2) Masterlist

part one

Always gonna want you back (ao3) - bewareofcamels G, 4k

Summary: They called it a "mental-health" - break over social media, even though it was more of a "Ashton broke up with Calum and now we kind of have a problem band wise" - break!

Awkward Is The New Cute (ao3) - ashsparagus N/R, 3k

Summary: Ashton’s awkward, Calum’s in love, Luke sets them up, and Michael isn’t in this one.

close enough to you (ao3) - irwah E, 5k

Summary: “But can’t we, like, just for tonight?”

Calum eyes Ashton warily, realising just how many drinks he must have had. It’s so unlike the boy to go against his own words, his own morals.

“I just, I really want you, Cal.”

Empty Gut - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) E, 11k

Summary: Cowboys and horses and long, lonely nights in the wilderness.

Endlessly (ao3) - thesoulsailor E, 27k

Summary: “I know who he is.” The boy, Ashton, commented, closing his book. Not sparing Calum a single look, he hopped off his chair and started walking towards the back door of the room. His movements were rigid, tense as if Calum had offended him personally by just his presence. Which confused Calum more than it should’ve if he was being honest. Normally people were easy for Calum. He got along with almost everyone he met from the go. Not so Ashton. Ashton seemed to detest him and Calum had no idea why.

or Calum is the undisputed king of his high school, Ashton speaks through colours, Luke doesn’t let anybody touch him and Michael is so getting killed by for hiding that snake in their teacher’s drawer.

Grabby Hands (ao3) - antisocialhood N/R, 7k

Summary: Ashton likes wearing big sweaters, curling up with his daddy and sucking him off while they watch TV, and sometimes Calum likes to treat his princess to something special.

if there's one thing i know it's that we're good together (ao3) - irwah E, 3k

Summary: "It isn’t that weird, really, if you think about it. Ashton is just one guy, a guy who spends a lot of time working out. And he’s admiring his best friend working out, his technique, his breathing pattern - totally normal things he observes in other people when he’s at the gym.

Except it is weird. Because he’s not admiring Calum’s technique, he’s admiring Calum’s abs, the way the sweat is pooling in the dips between muscles, the way his shoulder muscles clench with the force it takes him to do a sit up. He’s not admiring Calum’s technique so much as admiring his body."

or: Cashton fuck in a gym

kissing at the stop signs, darling (ao3) - irwah M, 3k

Summary: Ashton still has the same car, the beat up old banger than he used to pick Calum up from school in and Calum loves it – at the risk of turning into a complete sap he loves the memories it holds, and it reminds him of a simpler time.

Or: a cashton fic based on a cute keek that developed a life of its own

Loaf Love (ao3) - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) T, 4k

Summary: Ashton and Calum cat-sit for a weekend.

Loose Tongue (ao3) - jbhmalum M, 10k

Summary: 5 times calum wears skirts that keep getting shorter on tour and 1 time ashton does something about it

Muse (ao3) - moonbands N/R, 6k

Summary: Calum gets assigned a project to take photos of a stranger and get to know them to be able to tell their story. Calum chooses Ashton, the angel-like painter that never has his clothes free from paint.

my thoughts are yours - @sup3rbloom - (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) T, 4k

Summary: Soulmates can hear each other's thoughts, and Ashton's had to listen to Calum's depressing thoughts for years. One night after a particularly bad night for Calum, Ashton finally gives in and wants to meet Calum, to make his soulmate finally feel better.

never know what you've got until it's gone - @sup3rbloom - (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) G, 10k

Summary: Ashton's had the biggest crush on Calum Hood since forever. Luke knew this. He only had the best of intentions when he brought up Ashton's crush to Calum. He never thought about Ashton potentially finding out.

photo (ao3) - orphan_account N/R, 3k

Summary: calum and ashton add a pretty little photo to their collection of casual sex pictures.

Sodales (ao3) - takeitoffhemmo M, 9k

Summary: Everyone gets a tattoo that’s the outline of a flower and when they fall in love with their soulmate the flower becomes filled with color.

Luke and Michael find each other as soulmates pretty early, but the anxiety of finding a soulmate still presses on their friends, Ashton and Calum. Will Ashton and Calum find solace in each other while still searching for their other half? Will they be each other’s soulmates?

stuck in between a nightmare and lost dreams (ao3) - bluesunnie T, 13k

Summary: The one where Calum writes Ashton a song for their second album, all because of that one night when Ashton got drunk and talked about his family.

wanna share? - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) T, 10k

Summary: Ashton supposes this is what he gets, though, for allowing the school to drop a random roommate in with him but he still expected to see the guy at least a little during the day

or, the one where Calum and Ashton are college roommates who only see each other at night.

wish I could say something (ao3) - irwah G, 6k

Summary: “What do you mean you’re getting married?!” Comes Luke’s tinny voice, squeaking through the speakers of Ashton’s phone.

"It just makes sense, Lu.” Ashton sighs. “I don’t have the money to go back to paying full rent for the flat and he doesn’t wanna get sent back to France. It just works, logistically.”

Or: the Brexit fake dating AU that no-one asked for

#5sosfanfictioncatalogue #cashton #calum hood #ashton irwin #cashton masterlist #masterlists

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igbylicious · 6 months ago

Text

whichever way [woosan x reader] pt8

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff-ish, neighbours au, friends with benefits

ch. summary: You get to play with Wooyoung.

wc: 10k

ch. warnings: smut with subtext, everyone’s a switch but dom reader / San & sub Wooyoung for the first half, voyeurism / exhibitionism, sex tapes, BDSM, blindfold & bondage / shibari (@ Wooyoung), finger sucking, blow / hand job, sex toys; cock ring & riding crop (@ Wooyoung) & buttplug (@ reader), dirty talk, pain kink, impact play, dacryphilia, objectification, degradation kink, praise kink, Wooyoung is referred to as; ‘good boy’, ‘babygirl’, ‘(fuck)toy’ & ‘(pain)slut’, reader fantasises abt having a cock and Wooyoung sucking her off, copious amount of spit, cunnilingus, vaginal / anal fingering (@ reader), DP with a toy, creampie, condomless sex with IUD, masturbation, mention of San tiddies, safe word checks; ‘green’ & ‘yellow’ are used, aftercare, pet names for reader (‘baby’ and ‘good girl’)

a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns.

a/n²: subtext aside, this chapter is pure smut lol — but the next one will get more into relationship development! (ᵔ◡ᵔ) there’s a pretty direct nod back to smth in the previous chapter so i hope it’s not been too long between updates, but i think it will still work either way! ♡

masterlist. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, epilogue

“There, your throne is all ready, princess,” San grins at you, spreading his hands in a flourish to present Wooyoung, showcased on the bed for your pleasure.

And a pleasure it is; Wooyoung sits up against the headboard with both hands secured to a bedpost, vivid red rope laid across his wrists with a simple column tie. Less simple is the mermaid tie that San used to trap Wooyoung’s legs together from knees to ankles, loops upon loops of crimson twisted around his limbs; just as effective at immobilising Wooyoung as it is aesthetically pleasing to the eyes.

(You’d had an unexpectedly relaxing time while San did his ropework, a hush in the bedroom as you quietly chatted and joked together; San kept his focus on perfecting the looping patterns, but there was always a smile on his face whenever you and Wooyoung broke out in a sudden giggle of anticipation. His practised fingers had proved their skill, tying Wooyoung up with swift precision — but you almost wished it had taken longer, enjoying the odd intimacy of your small pre-scene bubble.)

“‘Throne’?” Wooyoung snorts at San’s invitation, right as you laugh a surprised, “‘Princess’?” It’s not exactly in San’s usual arsenal of nicknames of you.

San shrugs, his bright grin undiminished. “We can try something else! Um… Your saddle is ready, cowgirl?” he says, giving you a wink. “Here is your altar, goddess?”

“I can’t tell if these are getting better or worse!”

“I can,” Wooyoung says, trying to be deadpan but his voice comes out strained. He shifts against the ropes, restless from all the attention you are not paying to him. “C’mon, can we get on with it?”

They’re the words of a brat — but there is a telling neediness in his eyes as he looks at you, utterly incapacitated. You bite your lip at the tightness in his face; and the rapidly growing wetness between your legs is just as telling of need.

You throw a leg across Wooyoung’s thighs to straddle him, careful not to touch the semi he’s been sporting ever since San first lined a rope just above his knees. “What’s the rush, Woo?” you coo at him, running a teasing finger up his chest. “You’re not going anywhere, we got all the time in the world.”

Wooyoung pouts at your light touch, but he visibly relaxes with you on top of him. “No rush,” he grins, and there is a bit more strength to the cockiness in his voice. “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t forget about me.”

Your fingers slowly walk up his throat, where you both see and feel him swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing underneath your fingertips.

“Aw, feeling neglected?” you grin, pressing your thumb down against the mole on his bottom lip.

Wooyoung’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, catching your thumb as he does so. “A little,” he says, breathy already. “Thought you wanted to play with me tonight, not joke around with San.”

He moans sharply when your hand suddenly dives into his dark hair to yank his head back, exposing his neck to your teeth. Your bite is not enough to leave a mark, but plenty to leave a warning.

“I only play with nice toys,” you whisper sweetly, your lips ghosting against his ear. Your fingers relax to gently weave through Wooyoung’s hair, brushing the longish strands out of his face. “Are you gonna be nice to me?”

“Shit,” Wooyoung groans at the saccharine purr in your voice, “you’re really excited about this, aren’t you?” There is a pleased gleam of approval in his eyes.

Wooyoung is absolutely right; you are thrilled. He is all but helpless beneath you, tied up and antsy for your touch. How could you not be excited?

You have flirted with dominance in the past, but this is the first time you are in such complete control. Even San has taken a backseat; watching you and Wooyoung from the very chair that you had first watched them. His head is cocked to the side, piercing interest etched into his face — but he is only an observer to you and Wooyoung… for now.

“Yeah, I’m excited,” you grin at Wooyoung, giddy anticipation bubbling up and threatening to spill over the brim, and it takes an active effort to not break character. “But you did not answer my question.”

You grab for one of the items laying next to you, and lift your hand up to dangle a strip of ivory silk in front of his face.

“So. Are you a good little toy? Will you behave today?”

Just the sight of the blindfold causes Wooyoung’s breath to shallow, then his eyes dart back to you. Something burns in those dark eyes; something that can’t decide whether it is needy want or blatant defiance — but Wooyoung’s mouth has decided loud and clear. “Will you make me?”

“Hm,” you tut disappointedly, putting down the blindfold, “maybe I’ll go and joke around with San after all. If you’re going to be like that.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widen with alarm when your weight shifts off of him, his hands jerking against the restraints. “Ahh, no no, don’t—” he starts as you move away. “Stay, stay.”

(San chuckles quietly at the sudden change of heart, appreciative of how you’d used him as a tool to keep Wooyoung in line.)

You settle back on top of Wooyoung, marvelling at how the tension instantly falls away from him. Being completely tied up always makes him needier, but you are still taken aback by his need for you, for your touch. Like he can’t bear to part with you for even a second. A light current of electricity crackles through your veins, causing small sparks from the ever increasing awareness of how much power you hold over him right now.

“There you go, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” you ask Wooyoung, your sweetened smile that drips with disdain. “You’re a well-behaved toy after all.”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung says breathily as he tilts his head back, exposing his neck to you freely this time around. “I’ll be the best fucking toy you ever played with.”

You bite down a moan at how pliantly he offers himself up to you. You accept his offer and press a hungry, open-mouthed kiss on the pretty column of his neck, right on a protruding vein. Your tongue catches against his heartbeat, every pulse throbbing with hot desire.

“Want me to use you?” you rasp, lightly grazing your teeth across his skin.

He whines at the excitement laced in your voice. “Whatever way you want,” he says tightly. “Just— Just don’t want you to go.”

Your eyes meet, and for a split-second you falter at the intensity of his gaze; like he is talking about so much more than just right here, right now. Your heart softens at his need, reaching a hand to gently cup his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promise him, and your thighs clench at how he melts under your touch. “Now, let’s have some fun, hm?”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung sighs, beaming at you with a crooked smile. No cockiness, only anticipation.

Obediently, he bends his head just enough to let you put the blindfold in place. You tie the piece of silk around him, covering his eyes, and he inhales with a light shudder as sight is deprived from his senses. You make sure the knot is not too tight, and check if Wooyoung can still rest comfortably against the headboard.

Once it’s all done, you sit back to admire Wooyoung to take in the toe-curling view of him, completely and utterly at your disposal.

The blindfold’s ivory contrasts beautifully against Wooyoung’s tanned skin, almost giving him a soft glow; and the mole on his cheek peeks out from just underneath the fabric. His lean chest rises and falls with bated breaths, the red ropes keeping him firmly in place while he can do nothing but wait for you to make your move.

You lean into him with a languid sigh, one hand resting on his chest, the other playing with a lock of his hair. Your lips are a mere inch away from his; and Wooyoung has no idea of just how close you are.

The sheer depths of control you have over him now is dizzyingly overwhelming — and it’s a control that Wooyoung matches with equal depths of trust, willingly giving himself over to you. You can’t help a quiet moan at his subservience, steady pulses of arousal causing your cunt to leak onto Wooyoung’s thighs.

Wetness smears across his skin, and Wooyoung lets out a sharp groan when he realises what it is. “F-fuck,” he gasps, his hands bunching into fists before they relax again. “Baby…”

Wooyoung trails off with his lips slightly parted, his plump cupid’s bow begging for your attention. He whines when your nose brushes against his, and he arches forward in clear anticipation of a kiss — but two fingers firmly press against his bottom lip instead.

He lets out a surprised moan but does not hesitate for even a moment, slurping them down greedily. Your breath catches as his tongue swirls against your fingers, saliva rapidly gathering in his mouth and coating your kin.

Soon, a small trickle spills past his lips, messy and enticing. You eagerly lick up the trail, relishing Wooyoung’s shudder. “That’s it, that’s a good boy,” you praise him, and start a rhythm of slowly thrusting your fingers. “So hungry for something to stuff that mouth full. Do you suck San’s cock like this too?”

(San shifts at the mention of his name, readjusting the crotch of his jeans.)

“Hmah,” Wooyoung garbles, more spit dribbling down his chin as he starts to move his head best he can, hollowing his cheeks and curving his tongue around you. He forces your fingers deeper, deeper inside his throat, until he constricts around you with a choked moan. You bite down a whine, wiggling your hips against his lap to relieve some of the pressure building in your untouched cunt.

“God, look at you. So eager to get that tight throat fucked you’ll take anything,” you groan. Your own mouth is just as hungry as Wooyoung’s, pressing heated kisses along his jawline. “You’d suck my cock so well, wouldn’t you? Should get a strap just so I can see you choke while I fuck that pretty mouth.”

A loud, muffled whimper escapes Wooyoung, vibrating around your fingers. You can’t help but wonder what it’d be like, to have every inch of you throbbing in the wet heat of his mouth, completely engulfed with pleasure while Wooyoung’s throat spasms around you as he milks you dry for all you’re worth.

The fantasy shoots down your cunt like lightning, and you tear your fingers away in sudden impatience. You stick your tongue down Wooyoung’s throat instead, meeting him in a sloppy tangle. He makes a surprised noise, but quickly sucks on your tongue with the same fervour he’d given your fingers.

A heady daze settles over you as you tug at Wooyoung’s hair to angle him just how you like, groaning into his mouth with growing desperation. He squirms underneath you, stifled moans drawn from his lips, but you want more, more.

“H-hey, no no don’t—” Wooyoung mewls, straining against the ropes when your mouth and hands pull away from him.

“Shh, I’m right here, babygirl,” you soothe him, and press your palm solidly against his chest, just so he can feel you. “’M not going anywhere, not when you’re laid out so prettily for me. Fuck, wish you could see yourself, served up on a platter, so fucking sexy.”

You keep up your steady stream of praise, careful to keep a point of physical contact with Wooyoung as you move down the bed, your hand running down his torso, down to his hips, his thigh, along every inch of feverish skin.

San had been insistent on that; always stay connected to Wooyoung when he is both tied up and blindfolded, either verbally or through touch. Give him something to anchor himself to, give him a piece of yourself so he does not get lost.

At the right moment, it gets Wooyoung off to be ignored a little, to either make him get bratty or work for the attention. This is not the right moment.

And even with his arms tied, you can feel how Wooyoung clings onto you; his body arching into your hand, moaning quietly at your words. He shudders when your breath falls on his hipbone, just shy of his half-hard cock.

“Hm, gonna suck me off?” he asks impatiently, shifting in an attempt to find your mouth, chasing the warm air of your exhales.

You pinch lightly at his thigh, causing Wooyoung to grunt at the unexpected sting. “Not if you’re gonna be pushy about it,” you tut. “Besides, there is something else to take care of first.”

You reach for a small item that lies in wait on the bed, along with some lube. Wooyoung makes a noise when your hand leaves his waist, but you adjust your body to push a little firmer against his legs, the loops of his mermaid tie pressing into your skin.

“Still here, Wooyoungie,” you assure him. “Just getting a little toy for my toy, so I can get the most out of him.”

“W-what is it?” he asks, his arms tensing against the restraints.

You know his mind must be racing right now; you and San had readied an assortment of playthings on purpose, just so Wooyoung can only guess at which you’ll use. The ball gag, the leather riding crop? The buttplug, the small bullet vibrator? More than one? All of them?

A tempting thought, but for now… It is the innocent-looking, silicone cock ring that you take between thumb and forefinger, carefully dabbing it with a few thick drops of lube.

“You’re about to find out, babygirl,” you purr at Wooyoung, and put a steadying hand on his hip.

He tenses in anticipation, and jerks against your fingers when the ring slides down his cock to rest at the base. You lean in to lightly flick your tongue at his reddened tip, your feathery touch enough to make Wooyoung moan again. It’s more awkward to position yourself with his legs tied, no space for you to nestle between his thighs, but still you manage to comfortably drape yourself over him and sink your mouth down on his cock.

It’s not frenzied, not like how Wooyoung sucked on your fingers before. Instead you work his length with steady passes, amusement sparking in your cunt when his hips try to cant upward, whiny gasps of your name escaping his lips as you take your time with him. You can feel Wooyoung harden on your tongue, his blood surging down and trapped by the silicone ring as he plumps up into a snug fit. You hum contently at the salty taste of precum, your nose brushing against his pelvis.

You meet San’s eyes right then, with Wooyoung’s cock nudging the back of your throat, and a jolt sears through you at the moment of contact.

He is leaned forward with an elbow on his knees, fingertips playing at his bottom lip. His other hand is pressed against his crotch, squeezing himself as he watches with dark, piercing eyes how you take care of his boyfriend. Something primal lurks in those eyes, hungry and protective all at once, but San nods at you in silent approval.

A sharp heat stirs in your core, knowing exactly what this means to San.

San has told you how responsible he feels for Wooyoung during a scene. You know how seriously he takes this — and now he has entrusted that responsibility to you.

You pull away from Wooyoung’s cock with a wet noise. A thin string of spit connects from the flushed tip to your lips, stretching until it snaps, and his shaky whimper sings through your heated blood. He is trembling, every sensation inflicted on him intensified by the blindfold, the bondage, the cock ring; to the point that he’s almost overwhelmed just by the brief attention of your mouth.

“You okay, Woo?” you ask, running a gentle hand over his thigh. “It fits right, not painful?”

Wooyoung bites down a whine, drawing a few sharp breaths through his nose so he can speak up. “D-doesn’t hurt, no.”

There is a shine of sweat gathering on his skin already, his cock looking thicker than usual, and you spot light muscle tremors in his stomach. “Colour?” you ask, just to be sure. You won’t let San’s trust in you be misplaced; or for Wooyoung to be anything but completely safe in your hands.

“Green, yeah,” he nods, oh so eager despite looking like he is on the brink already. “So green. Fuck, want you to touch me…”

His voice is pure blissful anguish, jaw falling slack with a loud moan when you settle back in his lap and satisfy his plea. “Doing so well for me, Wooyoungie,” you hum, fingers wrapped around his oversensitive cock, the pad of your thumb teasing at his leaking slit. “San is so generous, letting me play with you as much as I like.”

San’s attention flickers from Wooyoung’s wretched features up to you. His eyes are like black embers, the force of his gaze burning into you like a furnace. His face is drawn, furrowed lines etched between his brows as his lips slowly curve into a sharp, crooked grin, just a hint of teeth — and from the look of him, San would like nothing more than to sink those teeth into you and Wooyoung both.

“Nothing generous about it,” he says, a low growl lurking in the very edge of his voice. “I’m the one who gets to watch you break my fucktoy down into a sniffling, whiny mess.”

“He is real pretty like this, isn’t he?” you coo, running a hand up Wooyoung’s tensed stomach. His abdominal muscles twitch, a choked sob escaping him as he listens in on your and San’s conversation. “And he’ll be so much prettier after I’ve ruined him. Would be a shame if he never saw himself like that. Don’t you think he deserves to be the one on camera for once, Sannie?”

Immediately, Wooyoung’s volume control slips further out of his grasp, high-pitched and unintelligible whines catching on his breath. He strains against the bindings, the veins on his forearms more prominent than ever as his fingers grip at the rope tying him to the bedposts.

San’s eyes darken as he recognises his cue. Gracefully he unfurls himself from the chair, grabbing a small camcorder from the nightstand as he heads over. Wooyoung’s camcorder, a brand new purchase.

Wooyoung bites his lip when he feels the mattress dip under San’s added weight. “Make sure San gets my good side, alright?” he rasps at you. “He can’t take a picture worth a damn, don’t trust him to handle a camera either.”

You snort a laugh, mostly at the way San’s shoulders drop as he levels Wooyoung with a flat look that goes completely unseen by his blindfolded boyfriend.

“You’re getting sassy now?” you say, playfully tapping Wooyoung’s nose. “Bold, my beautiful cheeky boy, real bold.”

Wooyoung just grins, fearless, tongue running across his teeth. “Hey, I’m off-limits to San today. I can sass him all I want, right?”

It takes some effort on his part, but San does refrain from intervening. His tongue prods at the inside of his cheek as he raises an eyebrow at you in question, and you give a little nod to assure him it’s taken care of.

With that, San takes a slow breath and releases; entrusting you to handle it. He shucks off his t-shirt and slides in behind you, resting a large hand on your hip while his firm, muscular chest presses up against your back. His heat radiates into your skin as he tucks his chin on your shoulder, casually holding up the camcorder to capture Wooyoung on film.

“You can sass San all you like,” you hum at Wooyoung, reaching for one of the other props lying next to you, “but I think you’re forgetting about something.”

“Hm?”

“Me.”

Wooyoung’s breath catches when a soft patch of leather draws across his chest. His head tilts as he tries to identify the object, and he stills when he comes to his conclusion. “…Crop?”

“Bingo.” You give the riding crop a light twist of your wrist, snapping against Wooyoung’s skin without real force of impact. He still whines, completely on edge.

“Shit,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “It’s gonna be like that?”

“Afraid so,” you say with a pained, exaggerated sigh, slowly running the crop’s flap up Wooyoung’s chest until it presses against the side of his neck. “It’ll be like that until you apologise to San. Now, smile for the camera, won’t you?”

A bead of sweat runs down Wooyoung’s forehead, soaked up by the ivory blindfold. He swallows thickly at the sudden pressure on his neck, but it doesn’t deter him. “Apologise? What for? Sannie really can’t— hmnh!”

The crop strikes against the same place on Wooyoung’s chest as earlier, slightly harder. He jerks forward with a choked shudder, a budding redness marking the spot. The corner of his mouth twitches — as does his cock, flushed and glossy with precum and spit.

Wooyoung whimpers when your free hand cups his face, but he quickly sinks into the gentle touch. You run your thumb along his cheekbone, brushing against the blindfold. “So good to me,” you chuckle, amused at the way he tries to nuzzle into your hand. “You can’t extend that favour to San?”

He only huffs and presses a messy kiss against your palm, then another. Blatantly needy for you, blatantly ignoring your question; and you decide he has had plenty of warning.

“Mmh!”

The next swat of the crop draws a sharp, high-pitched keen from Wooyoung. His chest heaves, panting heavily as the sting fades away and leaves a new reddened blemish in its wake.

“Fuck,” you breathe at the sight of him; quiet awe in your voice, your heartbeat pulsing hard between your thighs.

A translucent wet gleam gathers on his stomach where the tip of his cock rests, leaking steadily. Wooyoung’s body had stiffened with tension on the moment of impact, but now he slowly goes slack again, mouth hanging open as he draws hard breaths. He groans when your thumb slips past his lips to press on his tongue, drool threatening to spill over.

“Are you getting this, Sannie?” you ask, using the crop to draw slow circles around Wooyoung’s newly marked skin.

San hums in confirmation, keeping the camera steady. “Such a pretty mark you left on him. Think he’d be even prettier with more.”

Wooyoung moans around your thumb, squirming against the patch of leather in anticipation.

“Tch,” San scoffs. “Look at that, how much he wants it. Your little toy is too much of a painslut to ever apologise.”

Your toy. A small yet significant change from how San spoke before; his relinquishment of Wooyoung over to you now fully complete. You swallow down a sudden lump, taken aback by how deeply a simple degrading phrase has hit you.

Wooyoung lets out a high whine at San’s words, twisting against his bindings and your weight in his lap. The sound snaps your focus right back to him, all else forgotten at the sight of his desperate state. His teeth graze against your thumb as he shudders, saliva slowly trickling down his chin.

You withdraw your thumb to lightly pinch at his cheek. “Is that true, Woo? Are you my little painslut?” you purr at him, landing another light smack with the crop — and the resulting cry is an unmistakable affirmative. “So you like it that much… Well, we’ll see how long you last.”

“Please…” he moans weakly, aimless, not begging for any one specific thing except for your attention.

You smile slowly, fully intent on giving him just that. You shift forward ever so slightly, Wooyoung’s cock only barely brushing up against your cunt. Wooyoung’s breath hitches at the unexpected feel of your glistening folds, giving a tentative twitch of his hips. He manages to just graze against your clit, but it’s enough for a moan to bubble up from your lips — a soft moan, that Wooyoung still hears loud and clear.

Even that tiny sign of your pleasure is enough to make Wooyoung whine again, and he clumsily tries to hump into you, hungry for more of your sounds. His movements are too restricted for any proper stimulation, but that does not stop him from the attempt.

You don’t stop him either; too amused by the awkward jerk of his hips, too enraptured by the way he groans your name in a stutter, mingled with raspy swears as he tries and fails to please you and himself. Instead you whisper encouragements at him, sweet yet cruel as you giggle at his ineffective rut. You run your free hand over his sweat-slicked chest, lightly thumbing at his sensitive nipples, just to tease him closer to that edge he can’t get to.

But you let him keep trying, revelling in every frustrated moan, every meager spark of pleasure… until you are convinced he is too lost in his chase to still remember the crop.

Without his sight, Wooyoung has nothing to warn him when you lift the crop up again; only the softest whistle through the air as the leather flap swats down on him out of nowhere. He cries out at the sting, a lone tear trickling down from underneath his blindfold as he convulses against your body and his rope bindings.

San groans softly from behind you at the sight, warm lips briefly pressing against your neck as his hand squeezes your waist. His fingers are clenched around the camcorder, still dutifully recording.

“Greedy boy,” you grin at Wooyoung. “Thinks he’s gonna get off easy without apologising to San, hm?”

This time Wooyoung is better prepared when the leather bites at his skin, but he still groans tightly at the fresh mark, closer to his nipple than the last.

You press your free hand on his hip to hold him down. “Keep still now,” you whisper in his ear. “Wouldn’t want to mess up my aim, right?”

Wooyoung shudders at the sudden closeness. He turns his head, neck craning as though to find you in a kiss; and you fail to resist indulging him, gifting him a soft press of your lips, a slight brush of your tongue.

You pull back far too quickly to his liking, and Wooyoung fusses at the loss — but then you flick the crop again and pain blends into the neediness of his voice, debauched and beautiful.

His voice rises in pitch when you slowly roll your hips into him, making it all the more difficult for him to obey your command to stay in place. But Wooyoung tries, he tries so hard, trembling every time you find a target on his chest. He chews his bottom lip raw with stuttered breaths, more tears spilling past his blindfold at every hit; but Wooyoung knows exactly what he needs to say to make you stop, so you keep going.

Sitting in his lap, pressed up close to him, you can’t quite swing the crop in full force — but that is no problem, not when Wooyoung already tethers on the edge of being overwhelmed. Even like this, there is enough strength behind the impacts to sear through him like he is struck by thunder, unending whimpers escaping past his bite-swollen lips.

Between impacts, you tease Wooyoung with gentle strokes to signal where the leather flap will land next; except when it’s a misdirection, and you pull back for a second just to aim elsewhere. His dick twitches against your cunt, precum oozing generously from the tip with every hit, every twist of your hips. You try to angle yourself so the cock ring catches against your clit, the different sensation adding another layer of pleasure to your slow, rocking pace.

San hisses out a low growl every time you push back into him; he has deliberately kept to the background as a fiery yet unobtrusive witness, but the obvious bulge in his jeans betrays how worked up he is.

“Fuck, I’m gonna have so much fun watching the recording later,” you purr at Wooyoung, trailing the crop back up to his neck for a moment of respite. He knows you won’t hit him there, but he still fidgets at the pressure, his breath coming in hard pants. His skin is flushed with sweat and red marks and feverish need. “Gonna get myself off over and over again, seeing you break down into such a wreck. Do you hear yourself, Woo? What a whiny boy you are for me, crying so prettily.”

Another sob breaks through, his arms shaking. His breath hitches when the crop starts to traverse back downward, knowing his respite is coming to an end.

“Or you could eat me out while I watch it,” you muse, circling the crop around his nipple, still sore from an earlier hit. “Stick that clever tongue down my cunt while you listen to yourself falling apart. I’d get two of you at once, god, just imagine how wet I’d be, dripping all over your face. Cum twice as hard too, right on your tongue. Would you like that, hm?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Yeah?” you giggle back at him, so cloyingly sweet it reverses back into mockery. “Well, we can do all of that… all thanks to San.”

San nips at your neck, his hand on your waist squeezing restlessly — but meanwhile, your idly talk has distracted Wooyoung just long enough that the low whistle of the crop swinging down catches him off guard completely once again, his entire body snapping taut at the impact.

“So…” You gently swat at him one more time, the touch almost soothing in comparison, “what do you say, Wooyoungie?”

Wooyoung lets out a feeble sniffle, his cheeks glistening wetly. He mumbles a weak “sorry”.

Carefully, you bring your hand up to cup his jaw, brushing away his tears. “What’s that?”

“S-sorry, San,” Wooyoung says again, his voice a little clearer this time. “Thank y-you for filming me.”

Right away, the riding crop falls forgotten onto the bed, and your now empty hand reaches to touch Wooyoung’s face; so he also knows the crop is gone.

“Fuck, you did so well,” you murmur, pressing a shallow kiss on his lips. “Such a good boy for me.”

You pepper his face with more soft kisses, as gentle as you can; Wooyoung looks close to overwhelmed, and his cock is still nestled between your folds, hard and aching. If not for the cock ring, he likely would’ve had his release long ago. You run soothing fingers through his hair, almost displacing the blindfold. “Wanna cum, my sweet boy?”

“Mhyeah,” he whines shakily, and you smile into another tender kiss.

But when your hands shift away from his face, down his neck and to his shoulders, Wooyoung shakes his head and whines a little louder.

“No, w-wait,” he hiccups, and immediately your fingers are back in his hair, one hand kneading the nape of his neck.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. I’m here. What do you need, Wooyoung?”

He swallows, his breaths coming easier now that you are soothing him. “Can the blindfold come off?”

“Of course, of course it can,” you say quietly, giving him a little peck on the nose.

You reach for the knot and soon the ivory cloth falls away; Wooyoung’s eyes are bleary and unfocused at first — but they brighten at the sight of you. “There you are,” he croaks, and his wide, relieved smile clenches around your heart.

“Yeah, here I am,” you assure him, a little shaken by the force of his expression. Your own lips curl up in response to his dopey grin. “Can you give me a colour?”

“Green, now I can see you, b-but I can’t…” he mewls, squirming futilely, pushing his hips into yours. “Please, I gotta cum…”

“Fuck,” you groan, running a hand down his flushed chest, brushing against the plethora of red marks. “Don’t worry, my sweet babygirl, I’ll take care of you. Gonna make you feel so good.”

Briefly, your hand swipes through your wet cunt to gather arousal on your fingers, then they firmly wrap around his cock. He is hot and throbbing to the touch, and you don’t make him wait any longer, quickly setting a steady pace.

He keens as he tries to jerk into your hand, eyes squeezing shut and fresh tears brimming on his lashes. San curses from behind you, leaning back so he can catch as much on camera as possible; the slide of your hand, Wooyoung’s wrecked face, and every tremor of his body in-between.

Wooyoung’s mouth falls slack, a tremble in his jaw; it’s like his throat is too narrow for the overwhelming pleasure and relief that tries to escape his lungs, moans growing pitchier and more choked as both your hands now work his cock, twisting around the flushed head with every pass.

It does not take long, not now that Wooyoung finally has the stimulation he’s so desperately needed all this time; and when he cums, it is in thick, long spurts that catch on his stomach. You keep up your strokes for a while longer, coaxing more of him to spill out and dribble over your fingers until Wooyoung’s cries die down and he whimpers out a shaky “yellow”, his body perfectly spent.

You slow down right away, monitoring his expression as he softens in your hands. “Need to take the ring off now, okay?” you murmur at him, pressing a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll be gentle, just hang on a little bit, alright? It’s just a moment.”

Wooyoung sniffs tearily but he nods in acknowledgement, and in the background you can hear the click of San closing the camcorder’s viewfinder. You dab a bit of extra lube on the silicone ring, your heart clenching again as Wooyoung bites down a whimper; but then you carefully remove the toy from his overly sensitive cock, and he sags in blissed-out relief.

A comforting warmth ebbs into the bedroom as you help Wooyoung drink some water and San frees his wrists. San moves on to Wooyoung’s legs afterwards, while you take a moment to rub his shoulders, then start to wipe him down.

“So good… made me feel so good,” Wooyoung mumbles sluggishly, lavishing you with the same adoring praise he always gives to San.

A touched giggle bubbles up inside your chest at his affectionate babbling, and you grin while gently patting the sweat off his forehead. “I didn’t take it too far? You were really out of it when I took the blindfold off.”

He shakes his head at you, sighing in relaxation when San frees his legs, starting on massaging his ankles to work his way up. “Nah, not too far. I just… just really needed to see you. Wanted to make sure you were still there.”

You can’t quite pin it down, but something about that answer doesn’t sit entirely right with you. In the moment, you didn’t feel like you had distanced yourself too much from him, using talk and touch to stay in contact, but now you second-guess yourself. However, Wooyoung is tiredly giddy in his fatigued post-orgasmic haze, using his newly freed hands to steal touches against your waist and thighs.

“Wanna make you cum too,” he says, an impatient whine lilting into his voice.

You bite down a fond laugh, concerns forgotten. “Wooyoung, you’re exhausted,” you point out, cleaning crusty streaks of cum off his stomach. “Rest up now, alright? You did so well, please take it easy for me. I’m more than satisfied, I promise.”

It’s the honest truth; even if you didn’t cum, the experience was beyond your expectations. You’re certain you won’t even need the video to recall every moment in vivid detail, and it will fuel many a self-care session in the future.

But Wooyoung is not satisfied, grumbly as he tries to cling to you, even if his every move is sluggish and heavy with tiredness.

“Woo…” you sigh in affectionate exasperation, trying to get him to settle back down. Sure, some days Wooyoung bounces back remarkably fast, but this is clearly not one of those days; he is worn out.

San watches it all with an amused grin, like he is completely unsurprised by Wooyoung’s antics. “Hey Woo,” he says after a moment, when he’s decided you have ‘suffered’ enough, “how about we agree on a compromise?”

Wooyoung’s eyes snap to San, then they wander downward with a longing glance at the still-present bulge in San’s jeans, like he’d rather handle that one personally too. “‘M listening…”

“How about you tell me what you’d like to do, and I’ll do it for you? Make her cum just the way you want,” San says, quirking up an eyebrow. He turns to you with a questioning glance, silently checking in.

A hungry curiosity instantly stirs between your thighs, heat sparking; for San to act on Wooyoung’s instructions? You’ve explored plenty of different dynamics in the bedroom, but never this particular one. It’s a significant contrast to the scene from before, but the more you think about it… An interest is definitely stirring in your body.

Wooyoung’s first instinct is to push back — but his stubborn expression turns thoughtful as the full implications of San’s suggestion sink in. “…Can I film you then?” he asks, licking his lips.

Again, San turns to you in silent question. By means of answering, you pick up the camcorder and make a show of inspecting it, brushing off some imaginary dust, then you hand the camera over to Wooyoung. “Go for it,” you tell him with a teasing grin, “go and show San the difference between a novice and a pro.”

“Hey—”

San pouts at you, but Wooyoung is getting eager now, fully onboard with this turn of events. “What about those?” he asks, gesturing at the unused sex toys lying on the side.

You and San both look them over, and after a moment of honest consideration you veto the ball gag and push it off to the side. “Not that one,” you say; you’re already a little tired from the scene with Wooyoung, nowhere near as exhausted as he is, but enough that you don’t need things to get that intense.

“That’s fine,” Wooyoung says, shaking his head. “Not what I was thinking of anyway. Wanna hear you properly.”

“What are you thinking of?” San asks, his hand idly running up your thigh. “What do you want me to do for you?”

A sharp glint flashes in Wooyoung’s eyes. “First, I wanna eat her out.”

You swallow down an immediate moan. “Wow, now there’s a shocker,” you try to joke, but yelp when San pinches your side, biting his lip at you.

“What, like you aren’t as hungry to grind on that nose as he is to drown himself in that sweet cunt?” San says, quirking his eyebrows. “Don’t pretend you don’t love what a slut for pussy our Wooyoungie is.”

“What can I say?” Wooyoung says with a shameless and crooked smile as he fiddles with the camera. “I know what I like.” His tired eyes twinkle at you, his voice lined with an excited rasp.

The atmosphere rapidly turns into an odd mix of intimate and almost a bit sleazy. Wooyoung directs you and San like it’s his own private little porn set; still lethargic but there is a slight bounce to his energy now, enraptured by the prospect of instructing San to have his way with you, and catching all of it on camera.

It does not take much for you to shift out of your earlier dominant mindset, content to let Wooyoung order you into the position he wants. He also makes himself comfortable, sitting cross-legged against the headboard. He only barely tolerates his boyfriend putting a robe around his shoulders to keep warm, impatiently pushing a pillow into San’s hands and ushering him to get on his knees.

(He does not close the robe, giving you perfect view of the slowly fading red marks scattered across his chest, and a few faint abrasions on his legs from the ropes.)

Wooyoung shakes his head with a “not yet” when San reaches for the button of his jeans; he wants to get that on camera. San pouts at his boyfriend, like he’s contemplating whether he regrets giving Wooyoung so much control over him — but Wooyoung grins and promises he intends for San to get his dick plenty wet tonight.

You clench at that promise, an impatient twitch fluttering in your cunt. You’re simply waiting now; lying on your back across the bed with one leg dangling off the side, the other propped up. Wooyoung is close enough that you can touch him if you reach out; and so you do, running a teasing hand over his ankle in the hopes of speeding this along.

“Anything else, Director-nim?” San asks, only half-joking.

Wooyoung shakes his head. “Nah, just do what you do,” he says, but then he pauses in thought. “Just… make her loud. Make her beg for it.”

“Fuck,” you whine, fully sinking into a submissive state. You can’t help but squirm at the way he does not even bother to give you further instructions; all he wants are your body’s natural responses, to witness how San dutifully breaks you down into a ruined mess.

Wooyoung’s hands are a little shaky as he flips open the camcorder’s viewfinder, pointing the lens straight at you. His grin is downright lecherous, eager to see his vision brought to life.

You shudder at the camera’s attention; earlier, San only caught your voice and glimpses of your appearance, but Wooyoung has you blatantly on display, the main subject of his perverted little movie project. San kneels down in front of you, a mischievous curve at his lips as he rubs a large, warm hand up and down your side, kneading at the soft meat of your waist. His dark eyes pierce into yours, airy puffs of breath falling on your drenched cunt.

You moan and try to arch up to meet him, but San pushes you back down with a firm hand. He looks to Wooyoung with silent intensity, obedience burning in his eyes.

Slowly, Wooyoung pans the camera across the length of your body, down to San who sits in wait. “Yeah, I like that,” Wooyoung murmurs, something catching in his throat. “Go on, get a taste for me, will you?”

San’s cool breaths are replaced with wet heat as he delves in with a quiet groan, using two fingers to part your folds to his obliging lips. His mouth suctions around your clit, his tongue flicking out almost testingly.

Gentle pressure coils inside you, your fingers scraping at the sheets as San picks up a slow but insistent rhythm that has you rocking into his mouth.

“No, no, let her,” Wooyoung rasps when San pins your hips again to hold you still. “Let her take what she needs.” A silent “for now” goes unspoken. “Fuck, I want to bury my face in that eager pussy, look at that fucking slick.”

San makes a pliant noise, immediately burrowing deeper as he presses harder into your cunt. He hooks your knee over his shoulders, making a point of squeezing at your ass as he pulls you impossibly closer against his mouth, all in accordance to Wooyoung’s wishes.

The energy between them is hard to pin down; maybe it’s Wooyoung’s lingering exhaustion, but it’s not like he aggressively bosses San around. San is the willing conduit of Wooyoung’s desires, responsive to even the faintest suggestion, and Wooyoung respects that willingness by not lording his power over San to get his way — it’s not like he has to, anyway.

Because once San gives his singular focus to something, he gives it everything. You can just barely see the faint, pretty flush that creeps over his face as he eats you out with noisy slurps, catching your arousal with broad, urgent swipes of his tongue. Soon enough he has you writhing against him with strangled whines, fucking his face with rapidly escalating desperation, your hands flinging down to tangle in his dark hair.

Wooyoung makes a noise of protest, quickly prying away your hand on the side that blocks his camera’s view — but instead of letting go, his fingers wrap tightly around yours, pressing your entwined hands against the bed.

“Careful, Sannie,” Wooyoung groans, his eyes constantly darting between the viewfinder and the real thing, unfolding right in front of him. “Not too quick. Savour everything she gives us, won’t you?”

San does just so, his fingers digging into your waist and ass to forcibly slow your rut down. A low growl slips past his lips, shiny with your essence, while he drinks deep with a rich hunger that holds its own in comparison to Wooyoung’s. Obscene squelches drift through the bedroom along with your pitiful whimpers, both caught by Wooyoung’s camera for posterity.

Your mind starts to get hazy, coated in the intensity of San’s fingers digging so hard into your ass that you anticipate bruises, his mouth back at sucking on your clit to coax more slick from your trembling body.

This is a somewhat rare occasion; San does not actually give you head all that often. It’s not that San has no taste for it, it just happens to turn out that way when Wooyoung loves having his face used by you, you love using him, and San loves to facilitate that usage.

However, now San fully throws himself in this opportunity, groaning indulgently against your throbbing cunt as you drench his face with your tangy arousal. His vigorous attentiveness to your pleasure more than compensates for a lack of practice. Obediently he carries out Wooyoung’s instructions; not too quick, careful to extract as much out of your body as he can without allowing you to come undone on his tongue — but after your scene with Wooyoung, you have no energy left for dignity.

“P-please, Wooyoungie, wanna cum,” you whine, tugging at his hand as you turn your head to face him. A fresh jolt sears through your abdomen when you see the camcorder is pointed right at you again, documenting every second of your descend into mindless desperation, frame by frame. You only whine louder, convulsing against San’s hold as pleas tumble past your lips in a shameless appeal to Wooyoung’s mercy.

Wooyoung squeezes your hand, grin widening in delight at the footage you are providing him. “Good girl,” he hums, “making such pretty faces for the camera. Can’t wait to show you… You gonna watch this video too when I eat you out for real? Make a double feature out of it, starring you and me and our hard-working Sannie here.”

San groans at the praise, the vibrations rippling through your oversensitive cunt.

“Y-yeah, fuck please, please, let me cum…” you sob, your nails digging into Wooyoung’s hand. “So close, ‘m so close—”

Wooyoung huffs a quiet laugh. “What, you wanna cum while San hasn’t even had his cock touched yet?” he jeers. “Does that sound right to you, baby?”

With every mention of his name, San gets sloppier, his breaths shuddering as he laps at you with messy passes of his tongue. You sob when his teeth graze against your clit, and you pull roughly at his hair in a futile attempt to get San on top of you and immediately rectify the problem of him not having his cock touched. He grunts at the force of your grip, eyes rolling to the back of his head; but without an instruction from Wooyoung to move, San refuses to budge.

“Ahh, don’t worry baby, I’m just teasing,” Wooyoung giggles at your despair. “Can’t wait to see you fall to pieces for me. Look at you, you’re tearing up already… Gonna be such a mess when you cum, aren’t you? Just… one thing first. San?”

Wooyoung pans the camera over just as San pulls back, his face glossy from nose to chin, cheeks flushed. He is panting hard, with mussed-up hair and shaky eyes.

“You still good to go, Sannie?” Wooyoung asks, gentle concern woven into the question. “We’re almost there, alright?”

With decadent swipes of his tongue, San licks your juices off his lips, a renewed clarity kindling to life in his eyes at the sound of Wooyoung’s voice. “Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “What do you need? Tell me.” San grounds out the words like he is the one handing out commands now, and Wooyoung is quick to obey.

You whine when Wooyoung lets go of your hand to grab at the ignored toys — but you quiet down when you see what Wooyoung has picked. San’s grin is all teeth when he realises where Wooyoung plans to go with this.

“You really want to see her ruined today, hm?” San hums approvingly as he inspects the buttplug that Wooyoung just handed to him, along with the lube. “What do you say, baby? Gonna let me stuff both of your pretty holes for Wooyoungie?”

Not trusting your voice, you make a weak noise and tilt up your hips, angling your ass to San for better access. The gesture is met by a pleased groan from Wooyoung, and a blazing look from San as he hones in on your tight hole, perfectly on display for him.

You wiggle in anticipation as he squeezes at your asscheek and spreads you a little wider — so it is a surprise when San takes your hand to lube up your fingers first. “Be a good girl and get that pussy ready for me while I take care of the rest, alright?” he says, thoroughly coating your fingers with a slow, squelching slide.

“Y-yes San,” you say, the words barely making it past your throat.

San kisses the tip of your fingers and then guides your hand down, where you easily slip inside your soaked cunt with a lewd noise. You groan at the satisfying stretch, and soon enough a combination of lube, arousal and remnants of San’s saliva dribbles down to where San rubs his own slicked up finger around the sensitive rim of your other hole.

“Breaths, deep breaths,” San soothes you when he pushes inside, and you gasp out a shuddered moan at the pressure but manage to stay relaxed; the training you’ve been doing with San and Wooyoung is paying off. Still, San takes his time, slowly thrusting in and out a few times before he adds another, his mouth plying your inner thigh with gentle attention. You whine when you feel his fingers move against your own, hips moving on pure instinct to seek out more.

It’s not long before San decides you’re ready; the plug is not quite as thick as his cock, but still you pant at how it fills you up next to the three fingers in your cunt. You moan impatiently, antsy to have those fingers replaced by something far more satisfying. San chuckles fondly at your eagerness, his slick hand affectionately patting your ass as he stands up to his full height. Your breath hitches how his imposing frame towers over you, his hand squeezing at his crotch. Even through San’s rigid jeans, the outline of his hard cock is obscenely obvious.

“Slowly, take it off slowly,” Wooyoung groans hoarsely. “Let me get a good shot of that, fuck.”

Despite the strain he must feel, San gives Wooyoung and the camera a cocky grin, never one to pass up on an opportunity to put on a little performance.

He undoes the top button of his jeans, then tugs down the zipper one-handedly, simultaneously sliding his lubed hand up over his chest. The lube leaves a glistening trail right between the swell of San’s firm tits, all the way up to his neck where his fingers rest on his throat, thumb hooked underneath his chin. With heavy-lidded eyes, he tilts his head back just slightly, swollen lips parted.

Like that, San tugs his underwear and jeans down enough for his cock to spring free and slap wetly against his stomach, an angry flush at the leaking tip. Satisfaction flashes in his eyes when you let out a hungry moan, while Wooyoung bites down a heated swear.

Now that Wooyoung has the footage he wants, San unceremoniously shucks his clothing off the rest of the way. Despite knowing what will come next, your breath still catches when San clambers onto the bed, his heat bearing down on you as he crouches over your wired body.

You scramble back with him to lay fully on the bed, your movements made clumsy by urgency. It doesn’t help how San is already onto you, mouthing at your neck, grabbing at your plush thighs as his cock presses against your stomach. He groans unabashedly against your throat, nipping at the delicate skin.

Sparks surge through your veins as his cock slides through your slicked folds, and you can’t fucking wait to have him inside you, feeling oddly full and empty all at once with just the plug and no fingers, no cock, no nothing in your aching cunt. An injustice, as far as you are concerned.

Thankfully, Wooyoung agrees.

“Go on,” he presses, fighting to keep his hands steady. “You can’t wait right? Can’t wait to finally sink your cock inside that wet, willing heat. Always takes you so well, doesn’t she? Clamping around your thick cock like she never wants to be empty ever again.”

You whimper, arching up into San as Wooyoung rattles on — and San is as obliging as he has been all night, grunting tightly as he parts your lower lips and buries himself with one smooth thrust, pelvis meeting pelvis as he bottoms out with a loud grunt.

“Fuck, fuck, San—” you pant, scrambling to grab onto him. There is no pain, but still an overwhelming pressure of fullness that pushes out all else from your mind, nothing but a glowing thread of pleasure that coils tightly and stretches taut all at once.

Wooyoung gnaws at his lip. “That’s it. Slow,” he demands again, now filming one-handed while he reaches down to leisurely palm at his own hardening cock. “Fuck her slow, like you mean it.”

“I always mean it,” San growls against your neck, his hips jerking roughly forward. But he regains himself, easing into a heady rhythm that has your toes curling into the sheets as you move to meet him. His lips brush against yours, not truly a kiss, only a simple intermingling of breath as he gasps and moans with every sensual roll of his hips. Strong muscles ripple underneath your hands; as much with exertion as with restraint, his nails digging into your waist as he forcibly holds himself back from using his full, immense strength to pound you into the mattress.

Wooyoung’s breath picks up as he watches and slowly jerks himself off, matching pace. “Kiss him,” he moans. “Doing so well for us, don’t you think, baby? Fuck, won’t you kiss him for me, please.”

Eager to show yourself just as obedient as San, you dig your fingers into his hair and pull him in, slotting his mouth over yours proper. San whines as your tongue delves past his lips, flicking against the roof of his mouth before tangling with his, a wet messy glide as saliva builds up and a thin trail spills past your lips, down your chin. Wooyoung captures the sight on camera with a groan, his hand moving quicker.

“Fuck, g-go,” he says, his voice pitchy with need, “f-faster now. Wanna see you cum, both of you, wanna see…” Wooyoung trails off pitifully, hiccuping a small moan as the camera shakes in his hand.

San does not need to be told twice.

You cry out as he pistons into you aggressively, the kiss breaking when teeth nearly collide. Every ruthless slam of his hips reminds your body it’s stuffed from two ends, never completely empty with the plug still snugly fitted in your ass. San drives into you over and over again and the thread of pleasure pulls ever tauter, knots tightening, pressure mounting.

Your head spins from San’s single-minded chase for your mutual breaking point; but you have just enough presence of mind to purposefully turn your face towards the camera, giving Wooyoung perfect view of the tears gathering on your lashes, face contorted with blissful distress. He hisses a sharp breath, dick twitches against his palm.

San takes advantage to bury his face into the exposed crook of your neck where he harshly sucks into the skin, teeth catching with every thrust. Neither of you can last for long; you are too worked up from San prepping and eating you out, San is too worked up from obediently waiting all this time. The bed jostles underneath you as he bucks into your stretched cunt, throbbing walls parting pliantly for him.

It’s San who cums first, moans rising in pitch as his hips stutter — but he gives himself no time to breathe, reaching into thumb at your clit to mercilessly take you with him, and he whimpers loudly when you clamp around him. Your jaw falls slack, the thread unravelling faster than you can grasp, and you fall apart with San still fucking into you, your convulsing body wrenching every last drop of cum from him, draining him empty.

San winds down to a sluggish rut, and your cunt tiredly flutters around the lazy drag of his cock, only slowly letting you come down from your high. You moan weakly, using the last of your strength to move with San, to make sure he comes down slowly right along with you. Hot breaths falls against your neck, his mouth lingering on your skin with tender almost-kisses.

Wooyoung cusses under his breath, and you watch through watery eyes how he angles the camcorder back on himself. He shakily films the slide of his own hand as he cums on his stomach with a throttled moan, almost spilling onto the lens. Wooyoung takes a long moment to catch his breath and let the view linger, then turns the camera off with a tired, satisfied nod.

By now you have fully landed back down on the ground, your body slumping into the bed when San pulls out. Translucent streaks of cum leak out, down your ass and onto the sheets. You’re only vaguely aware of San massaging your thighs, warning you that he’s taking the plug out. You nod numbly, incapable of doing much more right now, and a quiet whine escapes your lips when San eases the toy from your body. The emptiness is almost more uncomfortable than the initial stretch; but it passes quickly, especially when San rubs soothing fingers around the sensitive rim.

Wooyoung puts the camera away and as soon as it’s safely on the nightstand, San pulls at his arm to yank him into a big cuddle pile, wanting the closeness to last for just a moment longer.

The bedroom goes quiet in the exchange of soft touches and murmured praise, limbs so deeply entangled that you’re not sure you can ever extract yourself from their hold. You burrow a little closer into San’s pillowy chest, hug Wooyoung as he clings onto you with an iron grip, and stay in their arms for as long as they’ll let you.

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biotic-boshtet · 3 years ago

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Aftermath - Chapter 6

Read on AO3

Start from the beginning

Years

Norah Jean comes to slowly at first, then lurching up as she registers the sound of several different alarms reverberating through the room. Instinctively she reaches up to turn off her hearing aids. The hearing aids aren’t there.

“Shepard, do you hear me? Get out of that bed now- this facility is under attack.”

She squints in the bright lighting, bare feet touching the floor just as a tremor rips through wherever she is. She wobbles, bracing herself on the bed until she can steady herself, accidentally pinning a lock of loose hair down with her hand, tugging uncomfortably. Why is her hair loose? It’s never loose, not even to sleep.

“Shepard. Your scars aren’t healed yet, but I need you to get moving. This facility is under attack.”

The voice over the intercom sounds familiar, but Norah Jean can’t place it. The room she’s in a freezing cold.

“There’s a pistol and your armor in the locker on the other side of the room, hurry!”

The sound of gunfire grows, and Norah Jean looks up to see a heavy mech tearing through a target she can’t see. Another rumble tears through the structure. Her whole body aches.

“Grab the pistol and armor from the locker. You don’t have time to wait around, Shepard! Grab your weapon and armor!”

“I’m getting there, I’m getting there, sheesh.”

“Shepard, we don’t have time for you to be difficult, get that armor on, now!”

Armor on. Four minutes. She’s gotten slow. When was the last time she put her armor on? Used to be sixty seconds. Doesn’t feel right either. Rubs wrong. Norah Jean absently rubs her right pauldron and freezes. There should be a gouge there. Her favorite gouge. She never got it replaced because she liked the way it looked, how it broke the clean lines of the iconic N7 stipe. Because only fools had perfectly maintained, scratch-free, dent-free armor all the time. The padding isn’t broken in yet, the ceramic plates are too shiny, and the joints are too stiff.

“This pistol doesn’t even have a clip.”

“It’s a medbay. You’ll have to find one yourself. Someone’s hacking security and trying to kill you.”

She falters for just a second when she spots the familiar black and gold insignias in the corridor, stooping to grab the clip from the floor. She’s not sure where she’s seen it before. It’s hard to fight the unease churning in her gut. She pushes it away as the beginning of a migraine blooms in the base of her skull. Keeps walking in armor that isn’t hers.

Taking out the mechs is easy enough, with clean shots to the head. Efficient. Quick. Automatic. Thankfully she hasn’t forgotten how to do that. The collar padding rubs uncomfortably on her neck. Norah Jean rips half a dozen strands of hair from a shoulder joint for the zillionth time.

After dozen more twists and turns and a lot more mechs shot down, Norah Jean finally runs into another person. And, by the looks of it, one she can actually help.

“Shepard? What the hell?”

She dashes into cover, crouching beside him. He’s a biotic, she knows instantly and cringes internally at the way his field rubs against her own, like a pair of balloons. “Looks like you could use a hand?”

“What are you doing here? I thought you were still a work in progress.”

“I just woke up. You probably know more than I do.” She snaps back at him.

“Right. Sorry about that. I’m Jacob Taylor, I’ve been stationed here for- Damn it!”

Another wave of mechs shows up. Both Norah Jean and Jacob make their moves. Clean shots to the head.

“Things must be worse than I thought if Miranda’s got you running around. I’ll fill you in, but we better get you to the shuttle first.”

She takes a deep breath, shoving her curiosity down. “Give me the abridged version, then.” She pops out of cover long enough to send a shockwave clear to the other side, scattering the mechs, blue glow subsiding as she ducks back down. The mechs that didn’t get blown clear off the platform get back up.

“Heh, pretty good for someone who just woke up.” Jacop pulls one of the remaining mechs into the air, dispatching it with a few shots. “Anyway, two years ago, the SR1 went down over Alchera after an attack by an unknown ship. Most of the crew survived, but you died. We put you back together.”

Norah Jean does the same with the very last mech within a few seconds. Biotics are the only thing that feel right. Everything else is different. Wrong. She died. But her biotics are a familiar buzz, humming underneath her skin like a live wire. Two years.

She follows Jacob through the next few rooms until they come across a man bleeding on the floor, and Norah Jean is struck with the same eerie familiarity she felt with the voice over the intercom, Miranda.

“Bastards got me in the leg.”

“I think…” She closes her eyes against the already dim light in the room. “I think I remember you, Wilson, right?”

“Yeah. That was me. How about we talk about this after we fix my leg?”

Her eyes flick up towards the hopefully stocked first aid station on the wall. She gets there and back before Wilson can complain too much. The applicator is different than she remembers, fumbles with it for a second before applying it correctly. She gives him a hand up.

“Thanks, Shepard. Never thought you’d save my life. Guess that makes us even now. I thought maybe I could shut down the security mechs, but whoever did this fried the whole system, completely irreversible.”

“We didn’t ask what you were doing. Why do you even have security mech clearance? You were in the bio wing.” Jacob crosses his arms and eyes Wilson.

“Weren’t you listening? I came here to try and stop this! Besides I was shot, how do you explain that?”

Norah Jean pinches the bridge of her nose. “You’re all fucking strangers to me, lets get someplace with a lower ratio of angry mechs, and then we can sort out whose fault this is.”

“Right. We need to find Miranda. We can’t leave her behind.”

“Forget about Miranda! She was over in D wing, the mechs were all over that sector. No way she survived.”

“A bunch of mechs won’t drop Miranda, she’s alive.”

“Then where is she? Why haven’t we heard from her? There’s only two possible explanations, she’s either dead, or she’s a traitor!”

“It doesn’t matter right now. Right now, we need to go! If Miranda’s as good as you say, she’ll probably be waiting for us at the shuttle bay.”

“You’re probably right, Shepard. Wilson, drop it, let’s go.”

The door on the other side of the room whooshes open and a squad of mechs marches through, guns drawn. Norah Jean swears under her breath.

“Wilson! I need you to overload the safety mechanisms on that container. It’ll take out the mechs and clear a path to the door.”

“You better be right.”

The crates explode easily, taking out all five mechs. Jacob stands up and turns to her.

“Okay, we took ‘em down, but this is getting a little tense. Shepard, if I tell you who we work for, will you trust me?”

“This really isn’t the time, Jacob.”

“We won’t make it if she’s expecting a shot in the back.”

“If you wanna piss off the boss, its your ass, Jacob.”

“The Lazarus Project, the program that rebuilt you, its funded and controlled by Cerberus.”

Cerberus. It finally clicks. The humanity first terrorist group. Black and gold. Fucked up experiments to “give humanity an edge”. Akuze. For a second all she smells is blood and acid, all she hears is the wind howling over empty sand. She blinks. Back to reality. Cerberus. Two years.

“I spent a good bit of time wiping out Cerberus labs. Why the change of heart?” Her corona flares and dies with her steady breaths, but her biotics remain under her control.

“Knew we shoulda replaced than damn implant.” Wilson mutters, eyeing her with nervously.

“Those answers are way above my paygrade, but the gist of it? Things change. The Alliance declared you dead. They gave up. Cerberus spent a fortune bringing you back. Look, I’d be suspicious too, but right now we have to work together. I thought you deserved to know what’s what. Once we’re off the station, I’ll take you to the Illusive Man. He’ll explain everything, I promise. But we have to get to the shuttles first.”

“Fine. Lead the way.”

Wilson stepped forward, punching in his security code on the door panel. “Come on, through here, we’re almost to the-“

The door opens, revealing a woman in a black and white catsuit. Her pistol is aimed squarely at Wilson’s chest.

“Miranda? But you were-“

Miranda pulls the trigger. “Dead?”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“My job, Wilson betrayed us all.”

“Even if you’re sure, did he deserve that welcome?” Norah Jea’s corona flashes briefly before she smothers it down again.

“He sabotaged the security systems, killed my staff and would have killed us.”

“Are you sure about that Miranda? We’ve known Wilson for years, what if you’re wrong?”

“I’m never wrong, I thought you’d have learned that by now, Jacob.”

Shepard twitches her hand away from her gun. “Okay. What’s out next step.”

“We get on the shuttle and we go.”

“What about the rest of the people on this station?”

“This is the evac point, if they’re not here now, they’re not coming.”

“We can’t leave without knowing for sure, we have to go back and look.”

“Don’t you get it? The only one worth saving is you. Everyone else is expendable.”

“She’s right, we all knew the risks when we signed up. Without you, there’s no point to any of this.”

Expendable. The thought turns her stomach. She sighs. “Let’s go. I’ve had enough of this station to last a lifetime.” She died two years ago, and the people who brought her back were expendable. She needs a drink.

“Or two in your case.”

Norah Jean turns to Miranda. “I need at least a dozen hair pins or something. I’m not going anywhere until I can get this damn hair situated.”

Miranda sighs and digs into a belt pocket, pulling out its contents and examining them. “The best I can do is seven pins and a hair tie.”

“I can work with that.” She takes the pins and hair tie and braids her hair, out of practice hands moving slowly to make sure the braid is neat and tight. Tying off the end, she works it into a flat coil at the base of her neck, using the pins as frugally as she can. “There. As long as I keep the helmet on, it should hold up.” Her head is pounding, and the pins certainly aren’t doing her any favors, but the hair is dealt with for now. Maybe she should just cut it all off. Its been two years since she’s braided it.

She checks over the pistol and shotgun assigned to her before putting on her helmet and following Miranda and Jacob to the shuttle bay.

“What? Veetor is injured. He needs treatment, not an interrogation!”

“We won’t hurt him, we just need to see if he knows anything else. He’ll be returned unharmed.”

“Your people tried to betray us once already, if we give him to you, we may never get the intel we need.”

“Prazza was an idiot and he and his men paid for it. You’re welcome to take Veetor’s omnitool data, but please, just let me take him.”

“Tali, you don’t have to just take Veetor and go, we could work together, just like old times.” Norah Jean knows Tali’s answer, even before she asks, but she’s so desperate for something familiar, she’ll try anything.

“I want to, Shepard, but I can’t. I’ve got a mission of my own. It’s too important for me to abandon, even for you. When its over, if I’m still alive, we’ll see what happens.”

“Sounds dangerous, what are you up to?”

“I don’t think Cerberus needs to hear about it, but it’s in Geth space, that should tell you how important it is.”

Norah Jean nods, then turns back to Jacob and Miranda. “Veetor is traumatized, and he needs medical care. Specialized medical care. Tali will give us the omnitool data and take him back to the flotilla.”

“Understood, Commander.” She tries to ignore the icy note in Miranda’s voice.

“Thank you, Shepard, I’m glad you’re still the one giving the orders. Good luck out there, if I find anything out there that can help you, I’ll let you know.

Norah Jean stands in the semi dark as the QEC powers down, rubbing her temples. Two years. Gone. She died. The door opens behind her.

“Hey, Norah Jean, just like old times, huh?”

She can’t turn around fast enough, stumbling over her own feet to come face-to-face with her best friend. He’s wearing black and gold.

“Jeff!” Her voice cracks, and she knows her face is doing something ugly as she tries not to cry. He throws an arm around her shoulders, rubbing her back, and it’s all she can do to keep her composure as she hugs him.

“It’s okay, I won’t tell a soul that Commander Shepard is an ugly crier.”

“I thought I was all alone.” She pulls back enough to wipe her eyes. “I can’t trust anybody here. They’re all Cerberus.”

“Well, you’re not alone anymore. You’ve got me.”

“I can’t believe it’s really you.” She wipes her eyes again, sniffling as they leave the QEC room.

“Look who’s talking, I watched you get spaced!”

“I got lucky, there’s a lot of strings attached. How’d you end up here?”

“It all fell apart without you, Norah Jean, everything you stirred up? The council wanted it gone. They broke up the team, sealed records, and I was grounded. The Alliance took away the one thing that mattered most to me. Hell yeah, I joined Cerberus.”

“You really trust the Illusive Man?”

“I don’t trust anyone who makes more than I do, except you. But they aren’t all bad. Saved your life. Let me fly-“ He pauses, looking out the windows into the dark hangar. “And there’s this. They only told me last night.”

Norah Jean watches as the lights slowly illuminate the massive ship docked there. The Normandy. Only she’s twice her original size. Black and gold. The wrong insignia. Two years. The SR2.

“Its good to be home, huh, Norah Jean?”

“Yeah. I guess we’ll have to give her a name.”

The captain’s quarters were disgustingly huge. The empty space echoed and the fish tank was too loud. The lights didn’t turn all the way off. The personal bathroom was nice. Even if she didn’t recognize the ghost in the mirror. Two years.

The clothes in the closet fit her well. They aren’t hers. They’re all stiff and new. No familiar comfort of an undershirt too worn to wear under her uniform. Its all utilitarian, even the civilian clothes look like part of a matched set. The wrong colors. Black and gold stare her down everywhere she looks.

The desk is big. A model of the SR2 catches her eye. Then she sees the photo. She died two years ago, but the photo on her desk was taken mere weeks before it happened. She and Kaidan sit on the bench on the back porch of her parents’ house in Anchorage, doused in golden sunlight. Neither of them are looking at the camera. They’re so focused on each other that the rest of the world might as well not exist. Two years is a long time to be gone. That photo had only existed in two places, her own omnitool and Kaidan’s. The Norah Jean in that photo died. Maybe she doesn’t exist anymore. The frame goes dark when she turns her head away.

Dr. Chakwas would be lying to herself if she tried to say she hadn’t been waiting for the Commander to drop by. If very nearly felt like old times, the Commander’s boundless curiosity leading them through several rounds of questions. What she’s been up to the last two years, why she was here now, this and that. Then Shepard gets a look of sheepishness that would fit better on a new recruit than Commander Shepard, scuffing her boot on the deck and glancing around the medbay.

“Have you got another question, Commander?”

“You’ve got a pair of clippers in here somewhere, right, Doc?”

“Yes, they should be in a case on the shelf in the back.”

“I’m gonna borrow them, thanks.”

“Of course, Commander.”

The buzz of the clippers is almost as comforting as her biotics. Their weight in her hand feels good as she flips the switch on and off a few times. Turns them back on.

Her hair falls away as easily as those two years. Brown curls just barely brush her shoulders. She can’t place the feeling she gets as she looks in the mirror, recognizing a little more of the person who stares back. The lights are still too bright, but her head hurts just a smidge less.

When the Commander returns the clippers, gone is the three feet of rich brown curls, replaced by a bouncy bob, pinned back and away from her face. She carries herself differently, like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. She seems surer of herself than she’d been a few hours ago.

Chakwas stops her before she gets out of the medbay door. “You know I was half worried you’d come back with a buzz-cut. Your new hair suits you.”

“Yeah? I figured it was time for a change. Thanks again, Doc.”

“Any time, dear.”

#aftermath #norah jean shepard #jeff joker moreau #jacob taylor #miranda lawson #karin chakwas #mass effect fic #mass effect 2 fic #goodbye shitload of dialogue i hated writitng u #this just in #writing sucks and is hard #mandi writes #we broke 10k words boys

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cryonme · 2 years ago

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.ೃ࿐ 𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 ´ˎ˗

“you were just so pretty, and his mom always said pretty things were made to be admired.”

—Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

—summary: it's a shitshow of a summer, and Conrad Fisher has the prettiest eyes you've ever seen.

—word count: 10k

— tw: alcohol, abuse, smoking, brief panic attack, attempted sexual assault (nothing happens), homophobia, makeout session, lots of fights and crying, cancer (oop, sorry!!), conrad is conrad and connor is toxic bf, apologies for any confusion but the names contribute to the storyline!! pls lmk if I left anything out, its a long ass fic and there's a chance I'm missing something.

—a/n: this is the longest fic i've ever written, and if you see the word count and decide against it, i urge you to rethink your decision!! i promise, if you're a conrad lover, this fic is WORTH IT!!

═════════════════

You were never one to back down from a party, and this was something everyone in Cousins knew.

You came to Cousins every summer with your family, your summer house being just across the street from the Fisher’s. You grew up alongside Belly, Steven, Conrad, Jeremiah, and your own brother, Tate. Every summer you were constantly at each other’s houses, surfing, swimming, barbecuing, the six of you did everything together. And now that you were all older, you partied together.

Ever since the summer Belly and Jere turned 16, you all looked forward to the first bonfire of the year. You and Belly would get ready together while she gushed about whatever boy she was crushing on and she’d ask you when you and Conrad were going to finally get together. You would always shake your head and blush, insisting that Conrad could never see you that way. Then you’d meet up with the boys, take a couple shots, snap a couple of photos then finally be on your way down to the beach. It was a night you always held dear to your heart.

Until this summer, when you brought your boyfriend to Cousins, and you did everything in your power to turn down the bonfire this year.

“What’s this about the bonfire?” Conrad entered the room and you froze. God, how could you ever forget how fucking pretty he is?

“Y/n’s not coming.” Steven huffed.

Conrad furrowed his eyebrows as he made his way over to you, pulling you in for a side hug and planting a kiss on the top of your head. You hadn’t seen each other since last summer, and he was absent when you and your brother first made your way over to the Fisher’s.

“Probably because she wants to suck face with her new boyfriend.” Tate rolled his eyes before throwing an almond in the air and catching it between his teeth.

Conrad immediately took a step back and the other 2 boys looked at you with wide eyes, “BOYFRIEND?!”

You rolled your eyes and turned on your heels to grab a glass from the cabinet before filling it up with water from the fridge. “Chill out, we’ve only been together for a couple of months.”

“Tell Connor that. Boy’s obsessed with her.” Your brother said.

“Tate-” you warned. If the boys knew how your boyfriend was, this summer wouldn’t end well.

“Literally never lets her go anywhere without him, it’s so-”

You cut him off by throwing an almond at his face, “Quit it.”

“Whatever.”

“Wait, and he’s here?” Jeremiah asked, eyes brightening.

You nodded, sipping on your water. “Bring him!”

“Bring who?” Belly’s voice rang through the kitchen, having missed the conversation because she had to use the restroom.

“Y/n has a boyfriendddd.” Steven sang in a mock tease, making kissy faces while Jeremiah joined in.

Conrad stayed silent.

“Wait what about-”

“Shut, Belly.” You cut off the younger girl, shooting her a glare.

She closed her mouth immediately.

“Yeah, (Y/n/n), bring him.” Conrad finally broke his silence, cocking his head at you with a lopsided smirk.

“I don’t think–”

“Come onnnn, we do this every year! Boy toy can tag along for one night!” Jeremiah pleaded, putting on his puppy dog face again, and how the fuck werw you supposed to say no to that?

“Fine.”

The kitchen erupted into cheers and whoops of victory, both Steven and Jeremiah standing from their seats to throw their arms around you and jostle you back and forth. You smiled, but you couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach, or the way Conrad’s eyes hadn’t left yours.

–

“Connor, they’re practically my family, can you please just be a normal boyfriend for like 2 seconds?!”

The two of you had been at it like this for almost an hour now, ever since you told him you were both going to the bonfire. Of course Connor was insecure about the 3 incredibly handsome boys you considered your best friends, but Connor would be insecure about anyone with two legs touching you with a 10 foot pole.

“Well, I’m sorry if I’m not particularly keen on 3 guys making googly eyes at my girlfriend all night!”

You let out an exasperated grunt, covering your eyes with your hands. “Steven has a girlfriend, Jeremiah’s been seeing someone, Tate is literally my brother and Conrad may as well be my brother too! He’s barely even talked to me all year anyway, probably has some girlfriend that he’s been hiding.”

“None of that means anything, I know how guys are! I am one!”

You laughed, but there was absolutely nothing funny. “Okay, so you’re saying, since you’re a guy, even though you have a girlfriend, if a prettier girl walked onto the beach for the bonfire you wouldn’t care about me?”

Connor shut his mouth, refusing to respond. You nodded, and crossed your arms, chuckling to yourself. “I’m late getting ready with Belly. I’ll see you there, asshole.” You made sure to bump his shoulder with yours as you passed, which you regretted.

He grabbed your wrist in his large hand, “Hey.”

His voice was low, almost a warning, as he squeezed your wrist harder, yanking you towards him, his face dangerously close to yours.

“You’re hurting me.”

“Don’t speak to me like that.”

“Let go.”

“Say you’re sorry.”

“Connor-”

“Say,” He tightened his grip and you whimpered, “You’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry.” You tried to keep your tone even, but the words came out like a broken whisper.

He let go suddenly, causing you to stumble backwards. “Good girl. I’ll see you there.”

–

The walk to the Fisher’s was a quick one, and luckily your tears had dissipated by the time you arrived at the front door. There was never a need to knock, not with you.

“Y/n!”

You turned your head to see two of the most radiant women you’ve ever known, gossipping over their glasses of pinot grigio no doubt, both smiling at you with open arms.

You smiled and made your way over, gladly accepting the embraces of the two women, and thanking the Universe that you wore a long sleeve to hide the marks on your wrist.

“Oh it is so good to see you, baby!” Susannah gushed, planting her hands on the side of your face and planting a big kiss on each cheek.

“You’ve gotten so tall, my goodness!” Laurel said, practically looking up at you since you towered over the much smaller woman.

“I know, we’re all growin’ up!”

Susannah covered her ears, “No, no, no! You’re all still my babies!”

You giggled and pulled the blonde woman in for a side hug, resting your head on her shoulder.

“I just can’t believe it. You, Connie, Steve and Tate are all old enough to buy your own wine now!” Susannah said.

“Yup, we don’t have to fill up your vodka bottles with water anymore!”

Laurel and Susannah gasped and you rolled your eyes, “Like you guys didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well we had a feeling, but Jeremiah and Belly better be staying away from you four while you buy your own now!” Laurel said, waving her finger at you, but you could hear the humor in her voice.

You nodded and saluted her, “Scout’s honor, Laur.”

Of course the two moms knew what you kids got up to when they weren’t around during the summer, but they trusted you, and they knew the babies of the group were in good hands as long as you were around.

“Well, get upstairs! Bell’s been eagerly waiting for you to curl her hair.”

You made your way upstairs, pausing when you heard multiple voices coming from Belly’s room, and you took a deep breath, putting on your best smile before you opened the door.

“Finally!” Belly exasperated as soon as the door creaked open. “I need you to curl my hair, Jere keeps fucking it up.”

Your heart swelled at the sight of poor Jeremiah just trying his best to help out his best friend, curling iron in hand.

Steven laid on the bed, cradling a six pack of Coronas as he handed one to you, but not before popping the top off with his teeth.

“You’re gonna lose all your teeth before you’re 40.” You teased.

“Worth it!”

You rolled your eyes and took a swig from your beer, stepping over the discarded clothes on the floor so you could gently take the curling iron from Jeremiah.

“I’ll take it from here, babe.”

“If you would’ve given me like, 5 more minutes I could’ve gotten it down.”

“Uh-huh.”

Belly giggled as you got to work on her hair, taking a break every couple of minutes to sip your beer or take a hit from Steven’s vape while he wasn’t looking.

“So, where's the boy toy?” Jeremiah asked.

You flopped on the bed as you were done with Belly’s hair. “He’s gonna meet us at the party, I think he wanted to take a nap or something before, he was pretty tired from all the driving.”

“You two drove separately?” Steven asked with a raised eyebrow.

You nodded. “Tate went with my parents.”

“Awee I miss your parents! Why haven’t they been over yet?” Jeremiah asked.

“They went straight into town for groceries and errands, they’ll come by tomorrow I’m sure.”

The curly haired boy nodded and went to reach for another beer.

“We’re out!”

You and Steven locked eyes, “Nose goes!”

Both your fingers whipped to your noses at the speed of light, but you were too slow.

“I don’t wanna go alone!” You complained and Steven situated his hands under his head, getting comfortable. “Well you’re gonna have-”

“I’ll go with you.”

You all looked up at Conrad, who was suddenly in the doorway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

You nodded and stood, telling everyone you’d meet them there with more drinks.

You smiled at Conrad as you passed by him, but of course he didn’t return it, simply just pushing himself off the wall to follow you down the stairs.

You prepared to pull your keys from your purse but Conrad had already grabbed his keys from the hook by the front door.

“I’ll drive.”

You decided against arguing with Conrad, knowing it wouldn’t do any good, so instead you nodded and gave him a weak smile.

“How’s your mom, Con?” “Better. One year cancer free.” You smiled. You remembered the summer that everyone found out, it wasn’t an easy summer. Conrad had told you early on about what he knew, and made you swear not to tell, and of course you didn’t, which caused a nasty fight between you and Jeremiah. He didn’t speak to you until the next summer.

“That’s really good to hear.”

Conrad nodded.

“So, boyfriend?” You rolled your eyes. “That’s all anyone cares about.”

Conrad looked at you for a moment before fixating his eyes back on the road. “Maybe. Is it so bad we all care about who you’re dating.”

You shrugged.

“What’s his name?”

“Connor.”

Conrad snorted.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged and continued to drive.

You both sat in silence the rest of the very short drive to the liquor store, and both exited his car in sync once you’d arrived.

The bell on the door chimed when you walked in and you smiled, for some reason that chime made you think about how this is only the beginning of the summer. There was so much time left, and you just couldn’t help the small smile that played at your lips.

If Conrad noticed your smile, he didn’t say anything about it, staying quiet, as usual, as he browsed all the beer and seltzer options.

But, of course he noticed the smile. How could he not? That same damn smile that’s made his heart race for his entire goddamn life, the smile that always made him blush and go speechless. Of course he fucking noticed.

Conrad was snapped from his trance when you bumped his shoulder, that captivating smile adorning your face while you held up a bottle of titos and a bag of red solo cups.

Conrad shook his head, “Jesus Christ.”

“Grab the lemonade?” “You tryna get me hammered?” You smirked, “I don’t know. Maybe.”

You readjusted the items in your arms, making your sleeves roll up, and you had completely forgotten about Connor until you saw Conrad’s eyes glued to your wrist.

“What is that?”

“It’s nothing, I- I tripped.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I tripped.”

You tried to walk away, but Conrad stepped in the way.

“Who did that to you?”

“I told you-”

“Who did that to you.” This time the words tumbled past his lips as a statement, not a question. He knew who did this to you, and he wanted you to say it.

Silence.

“Was it Connor?” “I’m not doing this with you right now, Con.” You said, and spun on your heels the opposite direction to pay for the things in your hands, leaving Conrad alone, holding 2 liters of lemonade.

–

As you parked on the beach, alcohol and red cups in hand, you saw Connor reach out to shake Jeremiah’s hand and it almost felt like everything happened in slow motion, and you’ve never gotten out of a car faster in your life.

“Y/n!”

You ignored Conrad calling your name and rushed to where your boyfriend was introducing himself to your friends, panic rising in your chest at what he could’ve said in your absence.

“There she is!” Jeremiah grinned when he saw you, pulling you in for a hug by the waist, lifting you up and spinning you in the air.

You could practically feel the heat from the steam blowing out of Connor’s ears.

“Hey, guys.” You smiled. “I brought the goods!”

“Lemonade and Titos?! Oh man, Y/n/n, you’re gonna kill us.” Tate laughed as he pulled the contents out of the bag.

“That's our girl!” Steven smiled, wrapping a hand around Shayla’s waist.

“Shayla!” You smiled once you noticed her presence.

“Y/n!”

You both laughed as she pulled you in for a hug, rocking you back and forth.

“So good to see you!” She said. Her cute accent had faded more and more over the years, but it was still there.

“You too! This is my boyfriend,” You decided you should acknowledge him, not wanting to deal with the consequences if you didn’t. “Connor.”

Shayla stuck out her hand with a smile, but all she got from Connor was a head nod, before he focused his attention elsewhere. Shayla smiled awkwardly and stepped back into Steven’s embrace, and your cheeks burned red.

“Connor.” You scolded under your breath, but he didn’t acknowledge you, continuing to sip on his beer.

You let your gaze wander when you felt a pair of eyes on you. Conrad was only a few feet away, his blue eyes staring straight through you over his red solo cup tucked between his lips.

The kind of stare that could make any girl's knees buckle and pupils turn to hearts. It felt like you were the only girl on earth, the only girl to ever exist.

And he was looking at you like that.

You looked down after what felt like an eternity of locking eyes with Conrad Fisher, and busied yourself with making a drink, pouring a larger amount of vodka into the red cup than you normally would, only topping it off with lemonade, and immediately downing the cup before quickly pouring yourself another one.

Connor kept a firm grip on you all night, so firm you were sure there were bruises forming on your hips and shoulders, and the drunker you got, the more tired of it you became.

Conrad kept a close eye on you. Physically, he kept his distance, but his eyes never tore away from you. He saw your grimacing, your uncomfortable cringing and the frown that etched itself onto your face anytime you thought no one was looking.

You tried your best to loosen up, especially when Jeremiah brought his new boo over to meet everyone. You fixed your hair and put on your biggest smile as you shook hands with the boy.

“I’m Hayden!” He smiled, “It’s so nice to meet you all! I’ve heard so much about each of you!”

“Trust me, we’ve heard a LOT about you.” Belly teased, earning a sharp look from Jeremiah.

“All good things, Hayden, we promise!” You reassured him, lightly pinching Belly on the arm, but the girl just giggled.

“Wait a second, Y/n, you have the same tattoo as Jere?” Hayden asked, pointing to the small stingray on your side. You forgot since your long sleeve shirt was so cropped, it was visible.

“Oh, yeah! We all do! Got it the summer baby Bells turned 18!” You smiled, gesturing to the rest of the group, who all slowly revealed their own tattoos on their sides.

“Y/n got stung by a stingray and forced us all to spend a whole week with her on the couch instead of, like, actually doing fun stuff.” Tate explained.

“Hey!” You scolded, “It turned out to be a lot of fun! We made margaritas everyday, and we went outside! I sat on the chair while you guys swam in the pool.”

“Oh, yeah!” Steven laughed, “Conrad was basically her nurse for the week, wouldn’t leave her side.”

“Oh, Y/n, does it hurt? Do you need ice? Oh Y/n, don’t walk, let me carry you!” Jeremiah said in a high pitched voice, hands clutched over his heart, pretending to be a lovesick Conrad.

You looked down at the sand as the rest of the group laughed, not daring to look in the direction of Conrad or Connor.

You were starting to understand the humor in their names.

“Anyway, it turned out to be a memorable week for all six of us, we all got a hell of a lot closer, which we all thought was impossible. So we got stingray tattoos a couple summers later, all thanks to our Y/n!” Jere said, trying his best to break the tension that only he seemed to notice.

“We need to talk.” Connor growled, immediately walking away from the circle, kicking sand in the direction of everyone else as he walked and your heart sank.

Belly shot you a concerned look but you shook your head, urging her to stay out of it, before you pushed your drink into Tate’s hands and followed after Connor a ways down the beach, closer to the water.

You missed the way Conrad’s eyes followed you.

“What’s up?” You asked, seemingly nonchalant as you stuck your hands in your pockets.

“What’s up?” Connor scoffed, shaking his head. “What’s up is that I want you to stay away from Conrad, and Jeremiah for that matter.”

“You’re kidding me, Connor.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” His face was hard as stone, his teeth clenched and you thought the red solo cup he was clenching was seconds away from turning into dust.

“No, but-”

“But nothing, Y/n. Conrad is basically eye fucking you and I don’t like the way Jeremiah is touchy with you. You show up, alone with Conrad who is obviously into you, and matching stingray tattoos?! You have to be fucking kidding me, this is all so ridiculous.”

“That’s just Jere! He’s like that with everyone, besides, he’s with someone!”

“Who’s a guy! You really think that’s gonna last? What’s he supposed to be, bisexual? He’s just doing it out of boredom and a need for attention. If you think otherwise you’re an idiot.”

You thanked the Universe that Jeremiah was all the way up the beach, just imagining the look on his face if he heard that broke your heart, but barely a second passed before you were fuming, and all you saw was red.

“How fucking dare you?” You seethed.

“You only defended Jeremiah, why not Conrad?” He asked, completely dodging the blatant homophobia he spewed from his mouth just a second before.

“You need to leave.” You said, your voice low. “You need to go back to my house, pack your things and go home.”

“Like hell I am. You need me. You’re not gonna leave me ‘cause you’re scared, aren’t you, princess?” He spat, and your face fell.

“I hate you.” Your tone faltered as tears began to fall down your face.

“You love Conrad, don’t you?” You didn’t respond, only choosing to wrap your arms around yourself and continue to cry, wishing this was just a nightmare.

“Ungrateful slut!”

Connor pushed you and you stumbled back, losing your footing and falling into the water, lightly gasping at the cold.

Conrad was up in a second, being the only one watching you from the group’s spot on the beach, storming towards the two of you, but not making too much of a scene so the other friends wouldn't follow him, but he knew they were too drunk anyway.

He downed the rest of his drink, crushing it in his fist and throwing it in the opposite direction. He’d pick it up tomorrow.

Before he knew it, he had Connor by the neck of his tee shirt, nearly lifting him off of the ground.

“Touch her again, and you’re fucking dead.”

“Con…” Your small voice shook him, and he let go of Connor, but not without a forceful push, who immediately tried to take steps toward you. “WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY?!” Conrad’s voice boomed and your boyfriend raised his hands in surrender, taking his steps backwards.

“It was an accident-”

“Shut up.” Conrad’s breathing was becoming uneven, and you could tell he was getting angry.

“Connor, just go home, okay? That’s enough.”

Connor grumbled and rolled his eyes but eventually turned away, walking down the beach in the complete opposite direction of your house.

“Come on.” Conrad gestured for you to take his hands, and you did, allowing him to help you up.

“Will you take me home?”

“Mine or yours?” “Yours. Please yours.”

“Always.” –

Everyone decided to just come home with you guys, all of their eyelids heavy with sleep and brains fogged over from the alcohol.

Tate decided to stay over as well, claiming he was too tired to walk all the way back to your house across the street, but you didn’t blame him, it sounded like a pretty far walk to you too.

Belly let you borrow clothes and use her shower and face wash, and when you were done the poor girl was already fast asleep in a starfish position in bed. You smiled and shut the door as lightly as you could before making your way down the stairs, the couch would suffice for one night.

But there he was, Conrad Fisher, in all his glory, sitting on the couch and staring out the window, wide awake.

“Hey, Con-” “I have to tell your family, you know that don’t you?”

Your heart sank.

“Conrad, please-”

The boy turned to look at you, sadness heavy in his ocean eyes.

“Why wouldn’t you want me to?” “That was only the first time something like that’s happened-”

“Y/n-”

“I swear I’m not just some pathetic girl that lets a guy throw her around like a ragdoll-”

“Y/n/n…”

“I just- I can’t breathe, Conrad.”

Conrad was up off the couch in the blink of an eye, immediately in front of you with his hands firmly holding the sides of your face.

“I know.” He whispered, taking deep breaths in hopes that you’d subconsciously copy them.

“You got it.” He praised, his thumb lightly stroking your cheekbone.

You shook your head, eyes wide with fear, but Conrad only nodded.

“Keep following my breaths, you’re halfway there.”

You did as he said, because you’d do just about anything Conrad Fisher said.

“Y/n/n, what is going on?” He asked once you’d calmed down, his hands still not leaving your face.

You sighed and brought your own hands up to hold his wrists closing your eyes.

“Hey.” He said, shaking his hands just slightly so you’d look at him. “I won’t say anything, if you just tell me.”

So, you took a deep breath, and you told him everything.

–

It had only been a couple weeks since the incident, and Conrad kept to his word. You told him everything, trying your best to keep your tears at bay while Conrad wiped the few stray ones that escaped from your eyes. You told him you just needed some time, if you broke up with Connor now, the summer wouldn’t end well, and you were terrified of what he’d do if you left. Conrad tried to convince you that so many people had your back, and there was nothing to be scared of, but you just shook your head. You had to do this on your own time, and eventually, after hours of talking, Conrad agreed to keep your secret.

And Connor had kept it civil since then as well, staying calm for the sake of not getting the shit beat out of him by your brother, and things were almost perfect. It was just like old times, volleyball at the beach, taco night every Tuesday, and of course, Belly’s birthday.

You and Tate helped Laurel, Susannah and Steven set up the kitchen for breakfast and presents, trying your best to be silent as to not wake everyone else in the house, but of course you all ended up giggling a bit too loudly anyway, because Conrad and Jeremiah came trudging down the stairs, rubbing sleep out of their eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry boys! Did we wake you?” Susannah cooed, pinching both of their cheeks, getting the boys to smile.

“Nah, it’s Belly’s birthday! ‘Course we’re awake.” Jeremiah said with a sleepy smile.

You always adored the love the two boys had for Belly. Jeremiah would throw her over his shoulder and exclaim “This is my best friend!” Making other girls go green with envy, but he never cared, she was his best friend, and he wanted the world to know it.

Conrad was more subtle, you always noticed how his eyes searched for her at parties, and once he had eyes on her and saw that she was safe and smiling, he’d visibly relax and get back to whatever conversation he was having.

It was precious.

“There she is!” You beamed when Belly came down the stairs, hair and makeup already done, with a smile on her face.

“Happy birthday Bells!” You bounded over to her and everyone else followed, pulling the birthday girl in for a big hug, swaying her back and forth.

“I just want my pancakes!” She groaned, but you could see the smile and blush that overtook her face.

Laurel rolled her eyes and brought her daughter in for a solo hug, kissing the side of her face, “Alright, alright, missy. Let’s get to it then!”

Belly happily ate her minnie mouse pancakes and opened each present, giggling like a little girl over how much she loved all of them and giving everyone separate hugs, thanking them a thousand times over.

“Where’s Connor?” Susannah asked as the two of you were putting discarded gift wrap and tissue paper into trash bags. Belly and Jeremiah left, going for a morning birthday swim with Hayden, Laurel went to take a nap, and Tate, Steven and Conrad were playing video games in the other room.

“He, uh, wanted to sleep in.” You said, faking a smile.

Susannah paused for a moment, before continuing to pick up trash. “Well, you tell that boy if he wants to be a part of this family then he has to join all the traditions next year.” You laughed and nodded, “I will.”

Susannah set the trash bag on the floor and patted the couch next to her, you obliged.

“You can tell me anything, you know that honey?” You nodded, “Of course.”

The blonde woman kissed your head and smiled. “Alright. Well, this mama needs a nap. Too much excitement for one morning.”

You nodded and bid her a “goodnight”, then went to check and see how the boys were doing with their video game.

“Little sisterrrrr!” Tate exclaimed as you walked into the room, plopping yourself down next to Conrad, who didn’t seem to want to look at you.

“What are you guys up to in here?” “Killin’ zombies.” Steven answered, not moving his focus from the TV screen.

“What’s the plan for today?”

Steven shrugged and you gasped. “It’s your sister’s birthday!”

“Then we’ll do whatever she wants to do when she gets back, jeez!” Steven said, still not moving his gaze from the TV.

The boys got back into the flow of the game, and you took your opportunity to look at Conrad, who, unbeknownst to you, was extremely aware of your eyes on him.

How could he not when he felt like his skin was on fire every time your eyes graced his frame?

He took a chance and looked at you out of the corner of his eye and you could feel your cheeks heat up as you tried to hide a smile, suddenly very interested in whatever was going on in their video game and Conrad could feel his heart swell. He did that.

But his heart only deflated once more when your phone lit up with a text from Connor.

It was gonna be a long fucking summer.

“Uh, Connor just texted me, he wants to know the plans for the day, should I just tell him to meet us here?”

“Hell yeah, tell Con to come on over.” Tate said.

Conrad felt an angry bubble in his stomach, that was his nickname.

Ever since you were little, everyone’s nickname for him was Connie, but you decided to call him Con, you claimed it was different, it set you apart from everyone else. He didn’t have the heart to tell you it really wasn’t that much different, because there weren’t many nicknames for his name, but he liked that it made you happy that you had a special one.

And now Connor was coming in to take that from him.

“Hey guys.” Connor greeted as he entered the room, a small smile on his face that quickly faltered when he made eye contact with Conrad. You told Connor that he was going to keep your secret, but he still felt uneasy in his presence.

Which is exactly what Conrad wanted.

“What’s the plan for today?” Connor asked, taking a seat next to you, throwing an arm over your shoulders.

“There’s a party tonight somewhere, I don’t really remember where, Shayla texted me about it.”

“Sweet.”

After a couple more minutes of awkward silence, the only noise being the sound of zombies dying and guns firing from the TV, the morning swim trio appeared in the living room, all already showered and dressed for the day.

“Hey, happy birthday Belly!” Connor said, digging through his pockets and handing the younger girl a small envelope. You were completely taken back, you hadn’t expected Connor to get her anything, let alone even acknowledge her birthday.

It was a silly card, a giraffe wearing a party hat, and inside was a messily scribbled, “Happy birthday Belly! -Connor” and a $50 bill.

“Connor.” You said, your voice light, impressed by the boy’s actions.

“Wow, thank you, Connor!” Belly said before running up to her room to stash her cash.

“You didn’t have to do that, babe.”

Babe.

“She’s like your little sister, of course I did! I know how special her birthday is around here.” He said before kissing your head and you smiled.

“You’re alright, Con.” Steven said, pointing to him.

Con.

Lord help Conrad Fisher.

The day had gone by agonizingly slow, you had a new found likeness for Connor and were attached to him all day, holding his hand and giggling at his dumb jokes, and Conrad felt like he was going to vomit. By the time the sun went down, and the group decided to head to the party, Conrad was ready for a drink, or 10.

And of course, Connor offered to be the DD.

How nice.

Conrad disappeared upon arrival, looking for the alcohol and a random girl he could at least makeout with to get his mind off of you and Connor. Just drink, makeout and get the fuck out, that was the plan.

But of course, this was summer in Cousins, and it was the Fisher’s, Conklin’s and Y/L/N’s, nothing ever went to fucking plan.

Usually, you never let yourself get too drunk, especially around Belly and Jeremiah, because you swore to their moms you’d always look out for them, but you were feeling especially carefree tonight, and Connor was actually being sweet, so you started chugging.

“So, you all smitten for Con now?” Conrad asked as he approached you from behind at the drink table, and you turned to look at him cocking your head.

“Wha-”

“Come on. You cry to me about how much you hate him and now you’re all up on him.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Yeah, maybe I wanna give the relationship that I have a chance, would that be so bad?”

Conrad clenched his teeth. “He pushed you, Y/n.”

“Like a month ago.”

“It’s been 2 weeks.”

“God, same thing! He was drunk and frustrated, it hasn’t happened since!” “And your wrist.”

“Fuck you, Conrad.”

Conrad laughed, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What did I do? Huh? Fuck that guy-” He pointed to Connor, who was taking a shot with Belly while exclaiming Happy Birthday, “Who put his hands on my girl.”

You raised an eyebrow and Conrad cursed under his breath.

“Your girl? Seriously?”

Own up to it, Con.

“Yeah. Seriously.”

“Forget it.” You spat before walking away, and “accidentally” stepping on his toe, causing Conrad to grimace, but he kept his mouth shut.

You maneuvered your way through the party, double fisting two drinks since one was for Jeremiah but you decided to walk in the opposite direction, desperately needing to cool off before you rejoined your friends.

You felt a hand around your waist and you groaned, quickly whipping around to who you thought would be Conrad.

“Conrad, I swear-”

“Conrad?” The stranger inquired, a playful smirk on his lips. “I’m way more handsome than that punk.”

You swallowed as you stared at the guy, perfectly gelled blond hair, blue eyes, and fucking boat shoes. You were screwed.

“Excuse me.” You said, trying to move past him but he held his grip tight on you.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“I just-”

“Yeah you’re not just anything, sweetheart. Come on.” He said, beginning to pull you up the stairs.

Conrad. You wanted Conrad. No, fuck that, you needed Conrad.

“CON!” You screamed without thinking, and the stranger that had you in his hold groaned and let go of you, he figured you were yelling for Conrad Fisher, and he knew better than to get in that guy’s face.

You were left alone on the stairs, breathing heavily with your hand clutched to your chest, tears threatening to spill when Connor appeared in front of you. “Hey, babe. I’m right here, what happened?”

“That guy-” You pointed in his direction, but you were cut off upon seeing Conrad right behind your boyfriend, out of breath.

Connor thought you’d called for him.

And they both came.

“Let’s get you home, okay?” Connor said and you nodded, not breaking your eye contact with Conrad, who’s pretty blue eyes were piercing right through you.

You let Connor lead you to his car, assuring everyone that you were fine, just didn’t feel good, and after Shayla told Connor she could take everyone home, that she hadn’t been drinking either, you were on your way home.

–

You woke up to what looked like about a million text messages. The first one you saw being from Conrad.

Con: text me when u get home safe.

Con: i’m sorry.

You furrowed your eyebrows and shook your head, you’d deal with him later.

Then you scrolled more.

Tate: Come to the Fisher’s when you wake up.

Mom: Hi honey, call me when you wake up.

Bells: Please come over as soon as you’re awake.

Bells: Don’t bring Connor.

And a million more missed calls from Belly, Steven, Tate, your mom, and Laurel. You were concerned about the lack of notifications from Conrad, Jeremiah and Susannah.

What the actual fuck? You were in a full blown panic now. Ripping the blankets off of your body, not bothering to put on any actual clothes, or shoes, and running straight across the street to your friend’s house, yanking open the door.

You hurried further into the house, rounding the corner into the kitchen, and you were greeted by a very distressed Jeremiah, sitting on a stool at the kitchen island.

“Jere? What the fuck is going on?”

The boy turned to look at you and your heart broke, the pain was written all over his face.

“It’s back.” He said, his voice cracking.

Fuck.

“Oh my god…”

“The cancer’s fucking back.” He broke, his body slumped over the counter and he gripped his hair in his hands so forcefully you were afraid he’d rip it out as his body racked with sobs.

“Fuck, Jere.” You exhaled, moving quickly to pull your best friend off of the kitchen counter and into your arms, which he did willingly, and he held onto you tighter than he ever had.

You stood like that for along time, Jeremiah still sitting with his face buried in your shoulder, heart wrenching cries falling past his lips as your tee shirt started to get so wet it stuck to your skin, but you really didn’t give a fuck.

You weren’t sure how long Susannah had been standing there, you weren’t even sure how long you had been standing there, but when you looked up to see the blonde woman in the doorway, she was smiling sadly, wiping a stray tear.

“Suze…” You said and held an arm out, still holding Jeremiah close, not wanting to be the one to let go of him first.

She joined the embrace, and only then did you allow yourself to cry. You wanted so badly to be strong for Jere, but it was hard when the woman you considered a mother, sometimes even more than your own, was so sick, once again.

“I love you.” You said, trying your best to keep your voice even, even though it was uncontrollably shaking.

“I love you so much more, baby.” She said, kissing the top of your head.

“Let’s go outside with the others, Jere.” She said once she pulled away, helping up her son and smiling when he wrapped an arm around her, assisting her to the backyard.

“Connie’s in his bedroom.” Susannah said, squeezing your hand. “I think he really needs you.”

You nodded and wiped your tears. The last thing you wanted was to let Conrad see your tears, he’d immediately close his emotions off so he could be there for you. That was just who he was.

If you thought Jeremiah had broken your heart, Conrad had completely shattered it.

He was laying sideways in a fetal position on his bed, his head where his feet would normally be, his hand clutching the comforter beneath him as he sobbed and you wasted no time laying down with him and wrapping your arms around him from behind. You replaced the comforter with your hand, letting him squeeze the shit out of it while you held him close, leaving chaste kisses on his shoulder and the back of his neck.

“This is bullshit.” He sobbed, “That’s my fucking mom!”

You tried so hard to resist crying with him, but it was too hard to keep in, and before you knew it the tears were flowing down your cheeks and onto your neck.

“I’m so sorry, Conrad.” You whispered and he didn’t respond. What was he supposed to say? That it’s okay? It wasn’t. It was far from okay. The world was cruel and it was never okay.

“I’m right here, I’m here.” You said, your words were barely even breaths, so gentle against his skin as you tried your best to hide your tears.

When he felt the gentle shake of your body he turned in your arms and wrapped his own around you. Of course, he knew how much his mom meant to you, she’d been there for you since the beginning. The 3 summers that your mom didn’t join because she decided to pack up and leave you, your brother and your dad, Susannah made sure she stepped up for all the mom duties. The first summer your mom rejoined the family and you refused to stay in a house with her, you stayed at the Fisher’s. The summer when your migraines got so bad you could barely leave the house for a week straight, Susannah let you sleep in her bed, because you claimed it was the comfiest one you’d ever been in the summer before.

“I’m so sorry about-” Conrad started, but you immediately shook your head. “Doesn’t matter.”

Conrad nodded, and the two of you held each other for a really long time, so long that you must’ve fallen asleep, because next thing you knew, your eyes shot open, and it was dark outside.

Did you sleep all day?

You were still wrapped up in Conrad’s arms, and your heart melted at the soft breaths that escaped from his lips.

How could you ever even consider working things out with Connor?

After the way he talked about your friends, the things he said about Jeremiah, the way he put his hands on you, how could you ever even have thought about choosing him over the boy whose arms you were currently wrapped up in?

You reached up and ran a finger across his cheekbone, smiling when he nuzzled closer to you under your touch, and placed a soft kiss on his jaw.

The answer was clear, but you could only wish it was that simple.

–

“Yo, Connor! Wanna be my pong partner?!” Jeremiah enthused, running up to you and your boyfriend like a puppy dog.

You nudged Connor, encouraging him to go and he said yes, clapping Jeremiah on the back and calling him “buddy”. It was going to be the two of them, vs Conrad and Tate, the two people that Connor should never fuck with.

It was the 4th of July, and usually, all of the adults were present for the barbecue and fireworks, but apparently Susannah had a new boyfriend, who owned a yacht, and he invited all of them onto his boat for the day.

Go Susannah.

After the news of her cancer coming back, everyone was really shaken, but she assured everyone she was going to fight even harder this time, and no one deserved a tipsy day on a boat with a handsome man more than Susannah did.

You sat on a lawn chair, sipping on a vodka lemonade with Hayden and Belly, giggling at their friendly banter of who they thought was going to win. You glanced at Steven and Shayla across the pool, smiling to yourself as you caught a sweet kiss between the two of them.

Connor would never kiss you like that.

“Earth to Y/n!”

You snapped out of your trance and fixed your eyes on Jere, who was looking at you like he was waiting for an answer.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Jeremiah just giggled, “Who do you think made it in first?? Connor or Conrad?”

You looked between the two boys, contemplating your decision.

“Um, Connor.”

Connor and Jeremiah both yelled in victory, hands up in the air before they hugged, jumping up and down.

You sneaked a glance at Conrad, who was already looking at you. Eyes squinted.

It was gonna be a long fucking summer.

You ended up having to put Connor to bed up in Steven’s room, who told you he wasn’t even going to be staying there tonight anyway while he winked at Shayla.

Your boyfriend had probably had a little bit more than one too many shots, considering the fact that he was mostly taking them by himself, so everyone else still had energy for at least another 5 hours, Connor was down for the count.

You tucked him in and left a glass of water and a bottle of tylenol on the nightstand, and a bucket on the floor just in case, then you turned out the light and shut the door, bounding down the stairs with a grin.

You were more than happy to get rid of Connor for a few hours.

You approached the group, all standing in a circle outside, playfully arguing about something and stood on your tippy toes to wrap an arm around Conrad’s shoulders and rest your chin on his shoulder.

Conrad smiled and gripped your wrist in his hand before leaning forward, bringing you up off of the ground and readjusting you so you were fully wrapped around him, before standing straight again and locking his arms around the back of your knees.

“Hi Y/n/n.” He said, turning his head to try and get even a small glimpse of you.

“Hi, Con.” You whispered, and his legs felt like jello.

For a second, Conrad forgot anybody else was even there, it felt like just the two of you. It was cheesy, of course it was, but sometimes cheesy is just reality. You were the only other person there.

“Looks like Y/n chose the wrong Con!” Tate teased and just like that, the moment was ruined. You frowned and slid off of Conrad’s back, the boy already missing the feeling of you around him, your soft cheek squished on his shoulder.

“Way to make it weird, Tate.” You muttered under your breath and Tate rolled his eyes.

“It was a joke! Come on, the sun hasn’t even set yet. Another round of shots?” Your brother asked, slowly walking backwards towards the kitchen, waiting for everyone to follow him.

Belly was the first, then Shayla, then Steven, then Jeremiah and Hayden, and eventually it was just you and Conrad outside.

“You wanna join them?” Conrad asked and you shrugged.

“Come on.” He encouraged, gesturing his head inside and you rolled your eyes, but still had the ghost of a smile on your list.

“Shots?” He asked.

“Yeah, yeah.” You playfully shoved him and he snatched your wrist, pulling you into his side and throwing his arm over your shoulder.

You did a round of shots, then you did two, then eventually three, and before you knew it everyone was laughing their asses off about some story Jeremiah was telling about how the two of you got hammered last summer and woke up on a random guy’s boat in the middle of the bay.

“I’m pretty sure Jere was still drunk.” You giggled, wiping a tear from your eye that had formed from your laughter.

And surprise, surprise, Conrad couldn't take his eyes off of you the entire time.

You were just so pretty, and his mom always said that pretty things were made to be admired.

“You guys.” Jeremiah said, slamming his hands on the counter, eyes wide, causing everyone to slightly jump.

“Sun’s down.”

You turned your head to look out the french doors, the sun did indeed go down, and you could already see a couple stray fireworks in the distance.

Everyone shared a look then ran out the door to get to the beach and start the fireworks, but before you could make it out the door, someone grabbed your hand, and you turned to see Conrad, his eyes shining.

“Night swim?”

And how could you say no to that face?

You nodded and laced your fingers through his, allowing him to lead the way out to the docks and giggling when he picked up the pace, running like a little kid to jump in the water with his childhood crush.

It was perfect.

As soon as you arrived on the edge you threw off your shorts and tossed your phone on top of them, already in a bikini, and jumped in, Conrad not far behind you.

You emerged from the water and smiled, covering your eyes with your hands to rub out any water that had made its way in, and when you opened your eyes to find Conrad, he was already in front of you, looking at you with those fucking ocean eyes. Fireworks exploding in an extraordinary glow right behind him.

“What?”

“You’re so pretty.” He breathed out, as if the words had been caught in his mouth for so long, and relief washed over his body when he finally released them.

You looked away, shaking your head as you curled your toes into the rough sand below you. You were barely touching the bottom, still having to halfway keep yourself afloat.

“You’re drunk, Con.” You said, looking down at the black water.

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what, Conrad?”

“Use the fact that I’m drunk to deflect. I may be drunk but I have eyes.”

You looked up from the water and sighed. “Really pretty ones.” You said, your voice faltering towards the end of your sentence, trying not to cry.

He really knew how to do it, hi and those pretty blue eyes and pillowy lips.

You were in love with Conrad Fisher.

“Why’re you crying?” He asked, wading closer to you, causing the water around your shoulders to slosh.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t what, pretty girl?” His voice was soft as a feather, and God, his lips were getting dangerously close to yours.

“I can’t love you.”

“You love me?”

“I can’t.” You cried. “I can’t just kiss you and pretend like it means nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.”

You shook your head, biting your lip.

“Y/n, I love you.”

“Conrad-”

He secured his hands on either side of your neck, just below your ears and you wanted to pull away, but you couldn’t. How could you when he’s looking at you like that?

“Please, Y/n.”

“I still have a boyfriend, Con.”

“I don’t care.”

He inched forward just barely, but it was enough to make the butterflies in your stomach erupt, you felt like they were trying to crawl up your throat.

“I just need your lips on mine. Even if I never get them again. Please, just this once. Y/n.” He was begging. He breathed out your name at the end of the sentence like a prayer and before you could even think about it, you nodded. And as fucking cheesy as it was, the firework show finale began,

And his lips were on yours.

You could’ve cried from the feeling of Conrad’s lips on your own.

His hands traveled down to your waist, then your hips and to your thighs before he lifted you up, urging you to wrap your legs around his waist and you did, immediately tangling your fingers in his hair, not once did the two of you disconnect your lips from one another.

It was desperate and messy, but it was perfect. His hands splayed across your back and squeezed your sides, and your hips before he pulled away, not even sparing a glance up at you as he planted kisses down your throat and shoulder, and that little spot right under your ear that made you whimper.

His lips came right back to yours in one last sweet kiss before he lowered you back into the water, his eyes glued to yours.

“I love you, Y/n. Please.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but was immediately interrupted by voices coming from the house.

Fuck.

“Under the dock.” He said, pulling you with him as you both swam underneath the wooden surface.

“Conrad-”

He immediately brought his hand up to cover your mouth, bringing up his other hand to put a finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet.

“Where the fuck did they go?” Jeremiah’s muffled voice sounded from above you, footsteps pacing back and forth.

“Maybe they’re finally confessing their undying love for each other.” Belly said.

“Don’t think Connor would like that too much.” Steven responded.

“Who cares, that guy’s a dick. I say, ‘dump his ass’!” Hayden joked and everyone laughed, footsteps fading down the dock, giving up on finding the two of you out here.

Once you were sure they were gone, you pulled away from him. “You dummy!”

“What? I just saved our asses.”

“We could’ve just said we decided to go for a night swim, the fact that we’re gonna show up completely soaked with no explanation is going to be way more suspicious!!”

Conrad just smiled and cocked his head as you rambled.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re in love with me.”

“Would that be so bad?” “Yes.”

–

Things had been terrible since the kiss. You could barely look at Conrad or Connor. And your constant bickering with Connor started back up again, he was back to his old self. You should’ve known that sweet facade was going to fade soon. He was just jealous of Conrad, but he couldn’t keep up the act anymore.

It was nearing the end of July, and the whole group was lazing around the Fisher’s house. You all spent the whole day at the beach yesterday, and you were tuckered out, all agreeing to just chill around the house. Laurel and Susannah had been gone all day, doing God knows what (edibles on the beach), so you were able to roam the house freely.

Until Jeremiah suggested a game, which turned into a drinking game, which turned into a mini party outside with just you and your friends. It was honestly nice, some summer beach playlist was playing through the speakers, the boys set up a game of pong (you even got to beat Steven and Jeremiah’s asses in the game with Tate), and half eaten snacks littered the outdoor table.

And of course, everyone was hammered by the time the sun began to set, but all you could focus on was Conrad’s eyes lingering on you.

“Babyyyy…” Connor stumbled over to where you were standing, leaning your weight against the side of the house.

“Hi.” You said, amusement in your tone.

“Let’s go inside.” He slurred, trying to push you towards the french doors.

You looked around, everyone was still partying and having fun. It hadn’t gotten to the point where everyone was breaking off into their respective couples with locked lips yet. Jere, Belly and Tate were having a handstand contest, which Conrad, Hayden and Steven were judging, Shayla was facetiming one of her friends, no doubt gushing to them about Steven.

“Not right now, everyone’s still having fun.”

“But we could be off having more fun.”

You shook your head. “Maybe later, okay?”

“Come onnnn.” He tried to persuade you by leaving kisses down your throat and exposed chest, only barely covered by a black bikini top.

You couldn’t help but close your eyes and sigh a bit, your hand coming up to tangle your fingers in his hair, your mind playing flashes of your kiss with Conrad under the fireworks at the dock. The way his hands explored your body, the way he confessed his love for you with so much passion and emotion–

“Seriously, Conrad…”

Shit.

Connor immediately disconnected from you, pulling back to stare at you with wide eyes.

“The fuck did you just call me?”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Conrad? Are you fucking serious?”

“I- I’m drunk, and your names are so similar.” You panicked, trying to clean up the mess you just made but it was too late, you were pushed up against the wall with Connor’s hand around your throat. Your instinct was to try and pry his hands off of you, but he was so much stronger than you, and fighting wasn’t doing you any good.

He was squeezing hard, and you tried to use your voice to call for your brother, Conrad, Jeremiah, fucking anybody, but you couldn’t. The only sounds coming from you were strangled cries and choking.

“Hey!” You heard a voice call from the pool, and the sounds of water sloshing and panicked screams rang through the air, and suddenly Connor was ripped off of you by Tate and you gasped for air, your hands immediately flying to your throat as wet coughs erupted from your chest.

“That’s my fucking sister!” Tate roared, his fist flying through the air and hitting Connor across the face, sending him flying backwards onto the concrete. He was picked up off of the ground by Steven and Hayden only for them to push him into Jeremiah’s awaiting fist.

“Guys please-” You tried but no one was listening except for Belly and Shayla, who were trying to usher you inside.

Finally Conrad stepped in, grabbing Connor by the collar of his shirt once again as he leaned in, his voice so low and menacing it sent a chill down your spine.

“What did I say would happen if you touched her again?”

His eyes were dark, so dark that if you were looking at them for the first time, you probably wouldn’t even know they were blue, and his chest was heaving so rapidly you were worried he was gonna get dizzy.

You wanted to intervene, but you were so overwhelmed and overcome with panic you couldn’t speak as Conrad slammed your boyfriend into the ground, only to pick him back up and Slam him into the wall, his large hand around his throat, in the exact same position he had you in.

“Doesn’t feel so good, does it?” Conrad all but growled.

“I didn’t mean-”

“Shut up.” His tone was flat as he stared at him, and Belly reached for your hand. You took it and squeezed, pulling her behind you. Steven had already done the same with Shayla.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen.” He said, “You’re gonna go across the street with Tate or Steven or whoever the fuck else, you’re gonna pack up your shit, and you’re gonna leave. Do I make myself clear?”

“She just-”

“DO I make myself clear?!” He barked and you flinched. Conrad was broody and intimidating, sure, but he was gentle. This was a side of him you were sure no one else had ever seen before.

Connor nodded and Conrad let him go, turning to you. His demeanor immediately softened when his eyes met yours, and a wave of relief washed over you so forcefully you began to cry, Belly was quick to pull you into her arms, ushering you inside.

Steven assured Tate and Jermiah that he and Hayden would take Connor across the street to pack his things, and that you probably needed them more than ever now, and they’d be back soon.

“Tate I have to tell you–” “Did you know, Con?” Tate asked slowly, almost as if he didn’t want to ask, because he didn’t want to know the answer.

“‘What did I say would happen if you ever touched her again?’” Tate quoted Conrad’s words to him, and he wanted to throw up.

“You knew that piece of shit was hurting my sister, and you didn’t fucking say anything?!”

“Listen-”

“No, fuck you!” Tate spat. “That’s my sister, man. That’s Y/n.”

“Let him talk, T.” Jeremiah said, placing a hand on Tate’s shoulder but he jerked himself away.

“Fuck that.” He turned to storm away, opposite the direction of the house but Conrad stopped him.

“That’s your sister, Tate. Are you gonna storm off in a fit of rage or are you gonna go inside and hug your sister, who’s scared shitless?”

Tate just looked at him, eyes empty.

“I wanted to tell you. I almost did. She insisted she was going to do it herself, she didn’t want to turn it into something it didn’t need to be, alright? She just took a little longer than expected.”

Tate didn’t respond, only gave Conrad a curt nod before continuing to walk away from the house. “I just need a minute.”

Tate walked out the back and onto the beach, digging his hands in his pockets.

“Is it too soon to ask what you guys were doing during the fireworks?”

Conrad huffed out a laugh and clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“Under the deck, dickhead.”

“Seriously?!”

Conrad nodded and Jeremiah threw his head back, pretending to be disgusted. “Rascals.” The pair stopped right outside the french doors, taking in a deep breath before they entered the house. “Y/n’s a badass.” Jeremiah said, glancing at his older brother, who nodded, before putting his hand on the doorknob and pushing, allowing the two to walk into the house.

You sat at the kitchen island, Belly and Shayla both on the other side of the granite, staring at you with concerned eyes.

Jeremiah moved first, pulling out the stool next to yours and positioning his head so he was eye level with you, a small smile on his face.

“Hey, buddy.”

“Hi.” You rasped and his smile sank.

The curly headed boy brought his hand up to wipe a fleck of dust off of your eyebrow before placing a kiss on the top of your head, and you sank into him.

“That was kinda scary, huh?” Jere asked and you nodded.

“I’m sorry.”

“First of all, I never want you to apologize to me again.”

You giggled.

“And second of all, why?”

You sighed and shrugged. “I feel like an idiot. I ruined everything. I scared you.”

Jeremiah shook his head, wrapping his arms fully around you, resting his cheek on top of your head. “You didn’t ruin anything, alright?”

You nodded and sniffled, a tear rolling down your cheek, which Jeremiah was quick to wipe.

“No tears, alright?” Even though he was blinking back his own. He kissed your head one last time before disconnecting himself to you, and gesturing his head to the stairs, signaling for the girls to follow him upstairs. He couldn’t wait to tell them about the dock.

You and Conrad were left alone, and his presence was not easy to ignore.

He slowly made his way over to the stool Jeremiah had just been in and sat down, his eyes taking over your frame and wincing.

“Can I?” He asked and you nodded. He brought his hand up to brush your hair out of the way and he whined when it revealed the angry bruise covering your neck.

“It hurts.”

“I know, baby. I know.” He said, pulling you off of the stool and picking you up bridal style so he could take you up to his room.

Neither of you missed the hushed whispers from behind Jeremiah’s closed door.

Conrad pulled back the covers and laid you down, quick to follow and pull you close to him.

“I’m really scared, Con.” You said, your voice small as you cuddled impossibly closer.

“You’re safe. I promise you are. I’m right here, okay?” He assured you, his hand cradling the back of your head and the other lightly trailing the skin of your back.

“I love you.” You said, and Conrad visibly relaxed at your confession.

“I love you more, my girl.”

–

Those damn ocean eyes.

Conrad smiled at you from across the bonfire and you blew a kiss back. Which he pretended to catch and put in his pocket.

Conrad Fisher. Catching a kiss and putting it in his pocket. Who would've thought?

It was mid August. The summer was coming to an end, but you still had a couple of weeks left, and you were all soaking up every last second of it.

Conrad had, of course, asked you to be his girlfriend as soon as the water settled, and of course you said yes. Tate and Conrad made up, giving each other a big bro hug, and your brother finally talked to you once he calmed down, giving you that big, comforting, big brother hug as you cried. And of course he swore to kill Connor next time he saw him. Susannah found an amazing program that had a huge success rate, and everyone was hopeful.

Your boyfriend made his way over to you, wrapping a hand around your waist and pulling you into him before he planted a kiss on your lips.

“Pretty girl.” He mumbled, a tipsy smile pulling at his lips.

“My blue eyed boy.” You responded, throwing your arms around his shoulders, an open invitation for him to pick you up and spin you, that melodic laugh of yours that he just adored sang from your lips.

“We’re you callin for me that night at the party?” He asked, a teasing smile on his face.

“Not funny, Con.”

“‘Course it isn’t. Just wonderin’.” His words were slurring and he was just so beautiful.

“Yes.” You admitted, rolling your eyes.

“Knew it.” He said, peppering your face with kisses while you giggled and tangled your fingers through his hair.

He swore he’d never be happier than he was at that moment.

But they had a whole life ahead of them,

And the story of Conrad Fisher and Y/n Y/l/n had just begun.

I love a cheesy ending.

taglist: @colbysbrocks @prettysummerbaby @sortagaysortahigh @hpboysslut2707

#the summer i turned pretty imagine #the summer i turned pretty #the summer i turned pretty fanfic #tsitp imagine #tsitp #tsitp fanfic #conrad fisher #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher fanfic #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher fanfiction #jeremiah fisher #jeremiah fisher imagine #jeremiah fisher x reader

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loeyparker · 3 years ago

Text

right where you left me - p.p. 3/?

summary: hope blooms in the school's hallway as you and Peter open your hearts to one another

pairing: andrew!peter parker x f!reader

word count: 8k

tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, angst, set before, during & after nwh, good ol’ mutual pining, mentions of violence, nwh spoilers

a/n: peter needed to hear some things and to be comforted, alright? ended up splitting that 10k words chapter n just adding more dialogue here. also nwh spoilers throughout!!!!

( PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT )

The beats of an early 2000’s pop song shook the car as you drove through the streets of Queens. The clock on the car radio read 7 a.m, the half empty Starbucks cup in your holder said you’d been awake much longer. Your shoulders moved to the beat of the song; your long hair flipped each time you rotated your head as you danced.

Peter Parker sat in your passenger’s seat, dancing as well – although, much goofier than you. He didn’t hit every beat but he was having the time of his life. His phone was vibrating in his pocket, aunt May’s name displayed on the caller ID. But nobody could hear the ringtone over the loud music – Peter would see the missed call and ring her back later.

In the backseat behind Peter sat a very excited Ned, whose hands hit Peter’s chair as if it was a drum. None of his beats could be heard over the loud volume of the actual song blasting in the car, but Ned didn’t care. And next to Ned – but at an appropriate distance, sat a very tired and moody MJ. Her arms were folded to her chest, her eyes moved around the car to look at her new friends acting way too excited to be up at this hour.

The sun was peeking through buildings, its rays warm and bright, bathing the car in comfort. You turned onto the road leading up Midtown High School, and MJ grabbed her backpack. The boys didn’t care nor notice where they were, and neither did you. Because the chorus of the song hit, and your voices belted out the lyrics, each one of you competing for the spot of the loudest singer. “Oh, you don't mean nothing at all to me!” The three of you shouted in sync, and MJ fought back a smile as you kept going.

Six years later you found yourselves in the same seats, driving on the same road with the same destination in mind, but in a different car and for a different purpose.

Now it was dark outside, the sun having abandoned you a while ago. Your hair was shorter, your eyes darker, your body stiffer. The passenger’s seat was empty. Ned still sat behind it but this time, his hands were fidgeting in his lap. MJ sat closer to Ned and her eyes were glued to the empty front seat. Strange’s box sat in her lap, button untouched.

The car was silent.

No pop song played, nobody sang. Aunt May wasn’t calling.

But the buildings you passed and the trees and the hedges – they were all the same, only covered by darkness this time around.

In the air you could see the other two Spider-Men swinging past buildings, following your car.

“So, how do you know Peter 3?” Ned broke the silence, his voice strained. You were about to reach the school.

“Peter 3?” You asked, eyeing him through the rear-view mirror.

“The guy you hit – and hugged. We, I mean, mostly me – I gave them numbers to, you know … tell them apart.”

“Oh I,” you cleared your throat and your eyes traveled to Peter swinging up above. “I found him after he appeared here, yesterday. Then I took him to my apartment.” You summed up the events, not really feeling like getting into any details.

“Why didn’t you tell us about him sooner?” MJ asked, her tone slightly accusatory. Because maybe if they knew about Peter 3 earlier, they could have avoided all this.

A pang of guilt hit you. “We were gonna come to you tonight, but then –“ you couldn’t keep going. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told Peter right away.” Your voice was small, and the two kids couldn’t help but feel empathetic. “It’s my fault, maybe he could’ve helped, I don’t know.”

MJ quickly leaned forward, in-between the seats. Her hand rested on your shoulder. “No, it’s not your fault.” The girl spoke with a slight sigh. “I get it.” She smiled, sadly. “It’s the Peter Parker effect. You find yourself wanting to have them all for yourself for as long as you can.”

Your eyes narrowed, and you glanced back at her quickly. “That’s not – “

“Do you like him?” Ned interrupted you.

With your eyes back on the road, you sighed. “He’s cool, I guess.”

“No, I mean, do you have a crush on him?” Ned asked as you pulled into the high school’s parking lot. Both Peters were already waiting for you by the entrance. The suited Peter sat on the stoned steps of the school while the older, casually dressed Peter was stood up. You parked the car as close as you could to the entrance, then took a deep breath before getting out.

Suited Peter got up the moment he saw you, taking careful steps towards you. Meeting halfway, you gave Peter a small smile, which he mirrored. He almost placed a hand on your lower back but stopped himself, opting to cross his arms instead, tucking his palms underneath his armpits.

“She definitely has a crush on him.” Ned whispered to MJ before walking towards you. MJ didn’t really have the strength to make a comment, so she just let him be. She held onto the magic box tightly, almost afraid to break or drop it.

“He’ll be on the roof.” You told the two Peters as Ned and MJ joined you.

“We’ll take the stairs and we’ll talk to him first.” In that moment, as you listened to MJ speak with a determined tone, you felt she was stronger than all the adults surrounding her. Because the adults were emotional and reluctant – but MJ wasn’t. “I’ll give you the signal when to show up.” She spoke before walking into the school, first person through the doors. She walked with determination and a sense of desperation, eager to reach her lover, to comfort him.

Ned followed her and you stayed back a moment longer with the two Peters outside. You stood there as the doors closed after Ned, torn between feeling guilty and completely heartbroken, between wanting to hold your Peter in your arms until he was alright, and wanting to be held and comforted yourself.

Peter saw the hesitation on your features, read it through your body language. The distant eyes gazing towards the school’s doors, the bitten lip, the heavier, longer intakes of breath. So, when you began walking away from him and towards the school, he stopped you. “Hey.” He said, softly.

You turned back, only to see him holding up his fist. That got a strained smile out of you, making Peter’s heart skip three beats at once.

And then you fist-bumped; but when your skin touched his rough suit neither of you moved their hand. You looked at him, and he looked at you – and you understood. Be there for him and I’ll be there for you, the look in Peter’s eyes read.

With a nod, you jogged into the building to catch up with your friends.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for seeing Peter on that rooftop. He was crying in MJ’s arms when you joined them, and you felt like dropping to your knees. The little kid who used to beg you to play Iron Man with him, who roped you into joining him trick or treat until he was 12 and you were 17, the boy who threw a brick through your first ex’s window – the boy who kept your spirit alive, who gave you hope even in the darkest of times. That boy was now in front of you sobbing, covered in bruises and blood.

Defeated.

He cried even harder when he saw you and MJ allowed him to run into your arms. Her and Ned moved back, tears streaming down their own faces.

Peter collapsed into your arms and you sank to the ground, holding onto him for dear life. He buried his head in your neck and you rubbed the back of his head gently as he cried. He held you so tight that you were sure small bruises would form on your sensitive skin, but you didn’t care.

When Peter had calmed down slightly, MJ approached him. And with a gentle hand on his shoulder, she whispered, “Peter there’s, uh,” she sniffled “there’s some people here.”

“What?” His mood immediately changed, jumping to his feet – ready for a fight. He stood in front of you, protecting the only remaining people in his life. His legs trembled out of exhaustion, but he stood his ground.

The other two Peters jumped down from the tower, getting a bit closer. It only took Peter a moment to realize who they were, as their identities were obvious through their movements, through the saddened look in their eyes – and through Peter 3’s Spider-Man suit.

“I’m sorry, about May.” The casually dressed Peter spoke, rising up to his feet slowly.

“Yeah, sorry.” The other Peter spoke up. Because he was high up and slightly covered by darkness, you didn’t see him glance your way before speaking. “I got some understanding of what – “ He tried to continue, stepping closer into the light, but your Peter interrupted him.

“No, no, no. Please don’t tell me that you know what I’m going through.” He spoke, broken.

“Okay.” Suited Peter nodded.

“She’s gone,” your Peter breathed heavily, and your eyes burned, “and it’s all my fault. She died for nothing. So maybe what I should’ve done in the first place is,” he turned to Strange’s device, ready to press the button.

Your eyes immediately looked up at Peter 3 in a brief underlying panic.

MJ moved the box away, Peter 2 pleaded with your Peter to reconsider.

And Peter 3 couldn’t tear his gaze away from you – because if he’d get sent home in that very moment, he wanted to go with your face in his mind.

“You don’t belong here, neither of you, so I’m sending you home.” Your Peter spoke. “Those other guys are from your worlds, right? So you deal with them. If they die, if you kill them – it’s on you. It’s not my problem, I don’t care anymore. I’m done.”

MJ didn’t take her eyes off from her Peter, staring at him with concern. And you could barely tear your gaze from the other Peter. You didn’t know what you were feeling, exactly. You agreed with your Peter – these guys were not his problem; they weren’t from your world and they should’ve been sent back a long time ago.

But perhaps, just maybe, you didn’t want everyone to go.

“I’m really sorry that I dragged you into this, but you have to go home now.” Your world’s Peter continued.

Your heartbeat sped up, your palms sweat. And as you looked at Peter – the suited one, the goofy one who broke your picture frame and managed to make you laugh, more sadness sneaked its way into your heart.

Because you were about to lose two people in one night.

“My uncle Ben was killed.” Peter 2 spoke up. “And it was my fault.”

Peter 3 looked away from you. “I lost,” the words got caught in his throat. You watched as tears overwhelmed his eyes, heard his voice become strained. “I lost Gwen, my, uh,” Peter paused, struggling to speak. “She was my MJ.”

And you hated to admit that your stomach dropped.

“I couldn’t save her. I’m never gonna be able to forgive myself for that.” He continued, and you looked away and towards your Peter. “But I carried on. Tried to, uh,” Peter 3 sniffled “tried to keep going tried to be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, ‘cause I know that’s what she would have wanted, but … at some point I just, I stopped pulling my punches.” He took a short pause, in which he glanced back at you – just for a second to see your reaction. But you weren’t looking at him. “I got rageful. I got bitter.” Looking at the kid, Peter could see a lot of himself in the boy – and that broke his heart. “I just don’t want you to end up like me.”

He avoided your eyes by the time you turned back to him. He stepped back into the shadow, wiping his tears vigorously.

“The night Ben died,” Peter 2 spoke, all eyes turning to him. Your Peter’s eyes glistened as he listened to his older counterparts. MJ kept inching closer to him, desperate to bring him comfort. “I hunted down the man who I thought did it. I wanted him dead.” You watched as MJ’s eyes never left her lover as Peter 2 spoke, and you felt for her. “I got what I wanted, but it didn’t make it better. Took me a long time to learn to get though that darkness.”

“I wanna kill him. I wanna tear him apart.” Your Peter admitted, anger prevalent in his voice. “I can still hear her voice in my head.” His voice broke and you looked down. “Even after she was hurt, she said to me that we did the right thing. She told me that with great power,”

“Comes great responsibility.” Peter 2 finished, surprised and with tears in his eyes.

Peter stared up at the two men, confused. “Wait, what? How do you know that?”

“Uncle Ben said it.” Peter 3 spoke up.

“The day he died.” Peter 2 finished. “Maybe she didn’t die for nothing, Peter.”

After hearing his counterparts, it seemed as if hope bloomed within your Peter again – hope and determination. He wanted to make aunt May proud, to help people in her name. So he decided to start from scratch in the school’s lab, and to come up with cures for the intruding villains.

The other two Peters helped him, of course. They truly seemed eager to work together and to get to know each other, to share knowledge and experiences.

Then, Ned was on computer duty; MJ was emotional support for Peter.

Peter 3 was working on the cure for Doctor Connors when his gaze landed on kid Peter and MJ, both lost in an affectionate moment. Behind them, the glass window on the door showed you outside, on the phone. He couldn’t hear what you were saying but the conversation was making you obviously frustrated.

Peter 2 noticed the longing gaze of his newfound friend, but couldn’t tell if the boy was looking at the couple or at you. “Do you have someone?” Peter 2 asked either way, causing Peter 3 to grimace.

He shook his head, seemingly outraged and amused by the question. “I got no time for, uh, Peter Parker stuff, you know?” He said, resuming his work. When he didn’t get the expected affirmative response, he turned back to Peter 2. “Do you?”

“Uh, that’s a little complicated.”

They both chuckled.

“Nah, I understand.” Peter 3 spoke, looking away. “I guess it’s just not in the cards for guys like us.”

Peter 2 frowned. “Well, I wouldn’t give up.” Peter 3 fixed back on him with curiosity and confusion. “Took a while but … we made it work.” As Peter 3’s gaze held surprise and slight sorrow, Peter 2 spoke with a small, content smile on his face.

“Yeah?” Peter 3’s voice was small.

“Yeah. Me and MJ.”

Peter 3’s eyebrows shot up, lips parted.

“Uh, my MJ.” Peter 2 quickly clarified. “It gets confusing here.”

His counterpart laughed, eyes back on his work for Connors’ cure.

“You can fall in love more than once, you know.” Peter 2 spoke again after a brief moment of silence between the two. It was something he felt that needed to be said, something his new brother had to hear. “How long has it been since…?”

Peter 3 hesitated before answering. “Ten years.” The two shared a look and Peter nodded, knowingly. “I know, I know.” He bit his lip and felt his wound sting. And then his eyes found you again as he was reminded of your gentle touch cleaning that very wound.

“You think she’d want you to be stuck like this for a decade? More than a decade?”

Peter knew his counterpart was right and despite feeling sorrowful, it was good to have someone talk sense into him. He hadn’t had a best friend since he lost Harry – because he couldn’t trust people that easily anymore. But it was different with his counterparts. He felt deeply connected to them. It felt like they were brothers – and he knew neither of the two had any reasons to lie to him, or to manipulate and lie.

It was also different with you, for some reason still unknown to him.

“I don’t think I’m,” Peter cleared his throat. “I don’t think I’m that stuck anymore.” He thought back to earlier that day when the memory of Gwen didn’t bring him pain for the first time. It was a strange feeling, not getting sent into a depressive episode each time she crossed his thoughts. “I’m just scared, I guess.” He shrugged, attempting to focus on the serum in his hand. “What if I can’t save the next person either?”

“And what if you can?” The second Peter’s voice was understanding and calm. Third Peter focused on the stinging on his lip instead of the burning in his eyes. “Are you gonna waste your life on what ifs, though?” When one Peter remained silent, the other continued. “The suit comes with a heavy weight, but it’s easier when Peter Parker has someone to help lift it up.”

Peter huffed bitterly. “I just think the odds are against me in the love department.”

Second Peter frowned, narrowing his eyes behind the goggles. And then, he followed Peter’s gaze which now rested behind the door’s glass window, on you. And he understood. He knew it from the moment he stepped through the portal and saw you by his counterpart’s side, saw how his newfound brother looked at you – but it was this moment that made him realize what was happening.

Peter turned to Peter 2, the corners of his mouth in a downward turn. He shrugged, looking defeated. “What would you do in my situation?” He asked.

“I would try.”

You had been pacing for about ten minutes through this particular hallway. It felt strange, being back in high school after so long. Last time you roamed the very same halls you were younger, more ignorant. You had friends whom you could picture being by your side forever, and worries that seemed insignificant now.

The shadow of a memory crossed your sights, a vivid embodiment of a girl you used to know exited the classroom across from the science lab. You could remember the sound of the school bell and the noise engulfing the halls as students poured out of their respective classrooms. The younger version of you laughed with her friends, an NYU brochure peaking from her bag. Iron Man posters littered the walls but the jacket you wore displayed Captain America pins proudly.

Your friends were trying to convince you to go to that night’s lacrosse game for some boy. You didn’t end up going – you had to babysit Peter.

A sudden flash brought you out of your memory, the halls got dark again, the shadows of the past faded. And you were anchored back into the present.

Before having the chance to see what was going on, another flash went on – this time facing you as you turned to the light source. For a second, you only saw stars. And then your vision cleared and a grinning man stood in front of you, camera in hand. His smile exposed his teeth; small strands of hair fell over his eyes. Peter wore a white lab coat over his Spider-Man suit and it made you smile.

The camera in his hands flashed again and you quickly looked away, not wanting to get blinded by it again.

“Stop that.” You told him sternly, even though a laugh was blooming in your chest.

“I’m done, I’m done.” Peter laughed. His voiced echoed through the empty halls. When you turned back to him, he was gently blowing on the fresh polaroid held between two of his fingers. With the same hand, two other already developed pictures were resting between his free, pressed together fingers. An old-school black polaroid camera was in his other hand. Peter caught you looking at him, then smiled. “You’re not supposed to shake them, you know.” He spoke. “Might damage ‘em.”

He leaned away from the picture in his hand, looked at it, then smiled. “If you let them develop in their own time, in the dark, the pictures are prettier. And you won’t have bubbles or spheres in them either, see?” He leaned forward quickly, showing you the three pictures in his palm.

The first one had you looking away, your side profile on full display, the curvature of your nose and lips more prominent than ever against the darkened background. The next one had you turned, lips slightly parted, eyes slender; strands of hair pushed behind one ear while the hair strands on the right fell over your shoulder.

The final polaroid had you smiling, looking straight up at Peter with nothing but affection in your eyes.

You leaned forward to grab a picture.

Peter quickly drew his hand back. A smile played at the corners of his mouth.

“Come on,” you retorted.

Peter shook his head. “They’re mine.”

“Let me just take the second one, it’s – “

“Beautiful.” Peter interrupted you, effectively causing your own words to get caught in your throat. “They’re all pretty, I’m keeping ‘em.”

You leaned back against the wall with a huff. “Where’d you find that camera, anyway?”

Peter mirrored your stance, leaning against the wall as well. “MJ got it for me, said I looked like someone who liked photography, whatever that means.” He chuckled. “She was right, of course – but I don’t know what it means.” He added, quickly – making you laugh.

“So you’re a photography nerd and a lab rat.” You teased, checking him out. The lab coat looked surprisingly good on him, accentuating his height and slim figure. The suit peeking out of the coat also gave everything a nice touch.

Peter chucked. “Didn’t you believe me when I said I was a qualified nerd?” His head turned to the left, eyes gazed down at you.

The two of you stood close, arms pushed one against the other.

The apples of your cheeks grew as you smiled. “I thought you were just trying to impress me.”

“Oh, I was – with the truth.” Peter didn’t miss a beat. “Did it work?”

“Honestly,” you began, turning your body slightly towards Peter. “I was impressed with you the moment I found you face down in my living room.” A laugh escaped your lips as you remembered the scene, Peter joining you with a chuckle. He leaned towards you as he laughed.

“You know I’m usually more gracious than that.”

“I’m yet to see that.”

“Keep your eyes on me tonight, then. I’ll put on a show for you.” Peter wasn’t usually this flirtatious with his mask off. Spider-Man was the better, smoother version of himself – Peter Parker was the one who just consumed every stutter in the book. But Peter found the act of flirting to be more natural, easier with you.

He didn’t dwell on the fact, though. He just decided he could flirt because his counterpart from another world encouraged him – and because he felt as if you were both running out of time.

“You just focus on not getting your ass beat.” You replied, teasingly.

He licked his lips, hiding a smile. “With my brothers in there,” Peter pointed back towards the lab and your heart swelled up – you knew your Peter always wanted brothers. “And the serums we just made, there’s no chance we’re getting our asses beat.” He raised his chin as he spoke with confidence, eyes sparkling. And he expected you to smile or to come up with a sarcastic quip.

But instead, your gaze lowered to the floor, your teeth chewed on the inside of your cheek. Peter frowned in worry. You didn’t hear him asking what was wrong, too lost in thoughts.

A few long heartbeats later, you had the nerve to speak again. “And then … that’s it?” You asked. Peter stayed silent and you continued. “You cure them, Peter presses a magic button, then you’re gone?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Peter’s reply seemed nonchalant, but you didn’t know that his heart felt a few pounds heavier after he spoke.

You nodded. “Okay, cool.” In an instant you pushed yourself away from the wall, starting to walk towards the lab with heavy steps.

Peter grabbed your hand, stopping you. “Woah, what’s going on?” He asked, frowning. You could feel each individual finger of his pressing against your skin. “What just happened?”

“Nothing. But we should just get everything over with so you can go back home, back to your life.”

“I’m not in a rush. Why are you, all of a sudden?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“Why delay the inevitable?” You pulled your hand away from Peter’s forcefully. He still had the polaroid camera in his hand and he was sure it might break due to his grip. “So I can stand here and grow attached to you, only for you to leave without a second thought?” If there was one thing you learned during the Academy, it was how to regulate and control your emotions. And for years, you managed to keep them in check – having them pour out of you like this felt embarrassing, but you lost control.

“Why delay the inevitable?” Peter repeated your question although with a different tone – accusatory, outraged. “Maybe because ever since I arrived here, I felt better than I have in years. I laughed today; do you know how strange that is?”

You stayed silent, just looking at him. Each time he talked, his arms moved around as an emphasis of his words and the camera flailed into the air as he held it unconsciously. But, at one point he pressed his lips in annoyance, cast a web onto the wall and stuck the camera on it – he needed free hands to express himself. His annoyance would’ve amused you had you not been lost in your emotions.

“I felt excitement, wonder, joy – all of them today. I experienced more feelings in a day than I have in ten years combined. All I felt until now was rage, and guilt, and sorrow. And then I woke up this morning and I was excited to get you breakfast.” A laugh escaped his lips – but it was short and humorless.

Slowly, you began aching to hold him.

“I’m torn, here.” Peter laughed again. “Do I wanna go home? Yeah – because my world needs a Spider-Man, and my world doesn’t have aliens and intergalactic threats every Wednesday. But my world doesn’t have my brothers and it doesn’t…” He looked away from you, shaking his head. He weighted his words, then turned back to you with determination. “My world doesn’t have you. And you’re the reason why I started … breaking through my misery. So no, I’m not leaving without a second thought but I don’t have any other options here.”

You didn’t know what to say – you didn’t prepare for his words, so they completely caught you off guard. So, instead of speaking you decided to touch him – a silent assurance that you understood him. Your palm gently cupped the side of his face and he hesitated before leaning into your skin.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Gwen.” Peter’s voice was small – careful. Your eyes softened. “I guess I just …” he began, still searching for the right words. His mind was all over the place because there was just so much he wanted to say in so little time. “Her death brought me so much pain and for so long I couldn’t escape it. But then I got here and I didn’t feel that anymore and I was scared that if I talked about it I’d trigger myself again and I’d” his voice broke “scare you away, I guess.”

And in that moment, a deep sense of understanding washed over you. It was as if wires of feelings and emotions intertwined, connecting the both of you on a deeper level.

“I know grief is hard, but don’t let the night trick you into thinking it lasts forever.” You spoke. “After my dad died, I thought I’d never recover. I used to be scared of memories, of even bringing him up but,” you took a deep breath in, “I realized that what’s remembered, never dies. And that made it easier. Because he might be gone, but he’s always with me, here,” you tapped your temple, corners of your mouth turning upwards, “and here” you brought your palm down over your chest, over your heart. “Gwen’s always going to be with you, but you can’t live in the past, Peter. You can’t let grief control or scare you – because, if you really think about it, grief isn’t even scary. It’s just love, with nowhere to go.”

A tear escaped his eyes, and you wiped it away with your thumb.

“Death is inevitable but,” you focused on the moles on his skin, trying to memorize them “but so is life. And if we get stuck on the death part then life just … passes us by. And then suddenly you’re watching yourself being turned to dust by a purple alien and you realize you haven’t even been to the top of the Empire State building yet.”

A chucked escaped Peter’s lips, and you smiled.

“Who reversed the Blip?” Peter asked.

“The Avengers.”

“Remind me to look for them next time I’m here, just to thank them for bringing you back especially.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his words, your forehead leaning against his chest for a fleeting moment. “I’m serious, I would’ve been lost without you.” He spoke through a grin. “I would’ve loomed over New York like one of those rain clouds from cartoons.” He joked, his hands going up into the air, right above your head. You laughed once more, a little bit louder this time.

Peter felt his heart lighter, the weight on his shoulders lesser after your words. He felt so much comfort and understanding in that moment that he wanted everything to be frozen, to immortalize your hearts opening to one another.

“You would’ve had Peter two, I’m sure he would’ve inspired you instead.” You looked up at him, playful smile on your lips.

“Oh, we already had an inspirational talk actually.” Peter mirrored your smile.

“Really?”

“Yeah, yeah – it was great, felt amazing afterwards.”

“So you’re just collecting heart-to-hearts?” You joked.

Peter couldn’t stop looking at the crinkle at the corner of your eyes that appeared when you smiled. “Yeah, I’m just trying to cram years of therapy into one night.”

“Is it working?”

“More than you know.” His tone was sincere, grateful even. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. And when you didn’t speak, he did instead. “Who was on the phone?” His voice was quiet, gentle. He watched vines of sadness slither into your eyes. Your thumb still stroked his face.

“Um, it was Matt.” Your eyes didn’t meet his and Peter felt a pang of jealousy strike his soul and mind. “He’s uh, Peter and I’s lawyer.” And Peter exhaled again. “He called me from the police station where they’re holding Happy and he wanted to let me know there might be a warrant for my arrest as well.” You chuckled. Your hands both went to the collar of Peter’s lab coat, fiddling with it absentmindedly as you spoke.

Peter frowned. He was going to speak, but you beat him to it. “I don’t care about my warrant but it annoys me because, what if they hold me too long and I won’t be able to set up May’s funeral? Who else is gonna do that if I’m in jail? I can’t let Peter handle it, he’s just a kid so that would be ridiculous, and – “ towards the end, your voice got strained. With each word you tried to swallow the lump in your throat, and Peter noticed.

He cupped your face in his calloused hands. You placed your palms over his wrists and melted into his touch. And it was his turn to stroke your skin with gentleness. “I’ll help you – and I won’t let them take you.” He whispered looking straight into your eyes.

You puffed. “Peter, you’re leaving soon.”

“I’ll convince Peter’s wizard to let me stay a few more days, no biggie.” He shrugged.

And you found yourself letting out a laugh, despite there being tears in the corners of your eyes. “Did you just call Strange Peter’s wizard?”

“He casts spells,” Peter shrugged, comically. “So, he’s basically Harry Potter in my book.”

And for the – what felt like tenth time that night, you laughed. “He’s nothing like Harry Potter.”

“I’m sure they have something in common – like, where did he learn magic? At a school?”

“Stephen Strange did not go to Hogwarts.”

“How did he learn magic?” Peter emphasized his words, eyebrows raised. His face inched closer to yours, breath warming up inches of your skin.

“At a …” you tried to remember the files you read on the man but it was hard when all you could focus on were the honey tones in Peter’s eyes. “At a temple? I think?”

“So,” Peter spoke with determination and amusement in his tone. “It was a place; where someone taught him magic – like a school…” he trailed off, a grin breaking through the veil of seriousness he tried to cover his joke in. And he saw that you spoke, but he truly couldn’t hear you over the sound of his own heartbeat drumming in his ears and the millions of thoughts rushing through his mind.

Because as he stood in a school hallway so familiar to him with you in front of him, your skin between the palm of his hands and your eyes starting fires within him, Peter could only think about how right it all felt. How, despite having cried only minutes before, despite being stuck in an unknown world, he still felt at home, still felt close to reaching a sense of happiness that had been a stranger to him for so long. Opening up to you felt cathartic and he felt lighter and he thought that maybe Peter 2 was right.

Maybe having someone to comfort Peter could, truly, lift the weight of Spider-Man off his shoulders a bit.

“Really, though.” He suddenly spoke with seriousness. You tilted your head and he felt your cheek pressing against his left palm. “I wanna be there for you, and if I have to beg Harry Potter for another week here, I’m not above that.” His words made you fight back a smile, smile which unconsciously took over Peter’s lips as he watched you. “You have no idea how much your understanding and stuff means to me – like, just your words alone lifted a weight off my shoulders and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that.”

And Peter felt so overwhelmed by emotions in that moment that he thought that shit, if this moment was part of a telenovela, the audience could see his heart glowing bright red and yellow and orange through his suit. And a soft, guitar theme would play and his aunt would cry watching the TV. And the only reason why he knew how this would be portrayed in a telenovela is because aunt May had been in a novela phase for a while now and he might have watched a couple episodes with her, but that’s beside the point.

“You don’t have to thank me for comforting you.” Your eyes never left his. Both of you felt dizzy. “It’s what friends do, right?”

And perhaps it was the wave of newfound affection, or the friends word striking him like lightning, but Peter felt overwhelmingly drawn to you.

“Friends?” Peter whispered. He slowly inched closer, head tilting to the side, lowering himself over you. His thumbs kept stroking the sides of your face, softly.

“Yeah, we’re friends, right?” Your voice was just as quiet as his and you could barely hear your words over the beating of your heart. He pulled you in like a magnetic force, every fiber in your being seemingly reaching for him.

You were so close that his lips brushed the tip of your nose as he angled his head down. Peter felt your words on his skin, lighting flames on every nerve they touched.

“Yeah.” He replied, eyes on your lips. Your noses brushed against each other and you couldn’t breathe. Your gaze traveled from his eyes to his lips, then back up. His pupils were dilated and you could feel his chest against your own, rising up irregularly.

He hesitated reaching forward, your lips brushing past each other’s a few times – just for a few seconds at a time, enough to get a feel of his soft lips against yours.

Then the hair on Peter’s back stood up and he fully opened his eyes to see a red dot right on your temple. His muscles tensed, his lips closed in a pursed line, jaw clenched. A faint, pitched ringing haunted through his mind. Rage replaced the soft look on his face. Taking in his face made you confused for a moment. Your cheeks were still flushed, heart still beat at a quick pace. Peter’s eyes were still on you as the look within them hardened and you felt a cold shiver going down your spine. Peter then turned his head, quick, to the right. You turned in the same direction.

DODC’s agent Cleary stood pointing a gun right at you.

As you turned the red dot moved to your forehead, right on its center.

Your skin ran cold as Peter’s hands left your face. He moved in front of you without a second thought, red dot now fixed on him.

All the tension, the affection in the atmosphere was replaced by annoyance and sparks of anger. And the air felt colder, sharper – yet more breathable.

“Truly sorry to interrupt such a tender moment, but I’m afraid duty calls.” The agent emerged from the shadows, slowly.

“You’re making a mistake.” You warned.

“Don’t take another step, man.” Peter spoke sternly. His left arm was outstretched, keeping you behind him. You hated that you didn’t have your gun.

“Sorry, can’t do that.” Cleary stepped closer, ready to fire. “S.H.I.E.L.D.’s mad, you know.” He laughed, no trace of humor in his voice. “Do you know they willingly gave us footage of you helping Spider-Man inside their building?” Another step forward and Peter tensed. “You can either tell me where Parker is, or you’re going behind bars.” Cleary’s eyes never left yours, acting as if Peter wasn’t even there.

“Fuck you.” You spat.

Cleary sighed. “Don’t say I didn’t try to be nice to you.” Another step closer. “Y/N Y/L/N, you’re under arrest for aiding and abiding Peter Parker. I’ll also relieve you of your S.H.I.E.L.D. gun and badge. Everything you say can – “

The gun was yanked out of his hand in the blink of an eye. With the flick of his wrist, Peter threw it to the side and Cleary froze. His widened eyes moved from the tossed gun, to Peter, then back and forth. You relaxed and folded your arms to your chest.

The agent’s hand went up to the radio holstered to his uniform to call for backup but the radio, too, got yanked by Peter. “Nope.” Peter said, pulling the radio forward by the web and catching it with ease. He inspected the device by turning it into his hands, then looked back at the dumbfounded agent. “Did you come here without backup?” Peter asked, amused.

And suddenly, neither of you felt threatened anymore.

“Did you follow me, agent Cleary?” You asked slowly, stepping out from behind Peter. “Unofficially?”

“You know following women labels you a creep, right?” Peter pursed his lips and cocked his head.

“What the fuck is this?” The agent still couldn’t get past Peter’s shooting web. The man was sure Spider-Man was a high school kid – not a fully grown, slender man with wild hair. But he could see the Spider-Man suit peaking from underneath Peter’s lab coat and he was entirely confused. “First Quake, now Spider-Man?” He took a few steps closer but none of you backed away. “I should’ve known what kind of Agent you were from the moment – “ the man didn’t get to finish.

Two webs shot simultaneously – one covered his mouth; the other, wider one, pinned his entire body against a wall of lockers.

“What’s happening?” Your Peter stood in the wide-open door to the lab, lowering his hand. The kid wouldn’t say it, but if felt cathartic to throw the agent against the wall.

“I think I just lost my job.” You laughed, looking back at third Peter, who couldn’t help but find the situation quite funny out of a sudden. Because you just had a heart-to-heart and he was this close to kissing you and some random guy ruined the moment entirely.

Your Peter frowned, dozens of thoughts swarming his head because shit, you lost your job because of him and you were getting arrested? But he was ten times more confused by your state, seeing you giggle with his older counterpart in the school’s hallway like it was nothing. Peter hesitated before speaking. “Uhm,” he pointed to the lab, awkwardly. “We’re … done. If you guys are ready…”

Third Peter raised his eyebrows, look pointed down at you. “Are we ready?” He asked, enunciating his words.

You glanced at the immobilized agent and saw the hatred in his eyes and knew how tough your life was about to become because of him and what had just happened. But in that moment, you decided you didn’t care. In that very moment, the only thing you cared about were the three Peters and their win.

So, you just turned to Peter 3, smiling up at him. “Let’s get ‘em, Bug Boy.”

Your Peter walked back in the lab with a hesitating look at the webbed Agent, an awkward nod and rapid steps. You walked slightly ahead of Peter 3, who trailed behind you with a grimace on his features.

“We gotta work on the nicknames.” He spoke, quickly.

“I like Bug Boy.”

“There’s so many other things you could call me.”

You shrugged. “Nah, Bug Boy is sticking.”

“And what if I call you Bug?”

“It would be very unoriginal,”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, because I called you Bug first and it just feels like you’re copying me, which”

“But it fits you better because compared to me, you’re smaller and like… cuter – like a ladybug, so”

You both spoke over the other as you walked into the lab, causing everyone to quiet down and look at you instead. Both of you talked with your hands, as well – which made everyone feel as if they were looking at one, mirrored individual.

Web hit a near-by object, metal clanking as if pierced by a bullet.

“Woah!” Your Peter exclaimed.

You and Peter went quiet, too stunned to speak. Both your heads turned to Peter 2 simultaneously, only to see him eyeing you, right wrist still up in the air. Then you saw web glued to some object and your eyebrows shot up.

“That came out of you!” Ned half-whispered, shocked.

“Yeah…” Peter 2 truly didn’t know why everyone looked at him in shock. He just wanted to get yours and Peter’s attention, nothing else. “Is that a … big deal?” He looked around the room, confused. “Can’t you do that?” He asked his counterparts.

“No!” Your Peter had a look of indignation on his face. “We have cartridges.”

“How on Earth does that even…” Peter 3 whispered, walking closer to Peter 2, eyeing his wrists.

You walked by your Peter’s side just as he shook his head quickly. “Anyway, we’re getting sidetracked, look.” He opened a map on the laptop, then turned the screen to face the other two Peters. The map showed Liberty Island. “This is where we’re gonna do this, okay? It’s isolated so, no one should get hurt.”

His counterparts leaned in closer to the screen, concentrated looks on both their faces.

“We draw them there with the box, it’s the one thing they all want.” Your Peter continued. “All we have to do is figure out how to get there.”

“Oh, we could portal there.” Ned said, nonchalantly.

“What?” Peter turned to his best friend, confused out of his mind.

“I’m magic now.”

“Yeah, no, no. He’s right.” MJ quickly confirmed. “He can.”

“Yeah, we saw it.”

“Yeah, he is.”

Both Peters confirmed as well.

“Ned’s the one who found these two.” You spoke up, pointing at the Peters.

“Wait, really?” Peter still couldn’t believe it. And frankly you probably wouldn’t have believed it either had you not been there when Peter 2 stepped out of Ned’s portal – because it all just seemed too crazy, and comical, and too much for one night.

“Dude, I got Doctor Strange magic.” Ned approached his best friend with excitement. And then, he took off his goggles with a stern, serious look on his face. Your eyebrows shot up. “And I promise you, I won’t turn into a supervillain and try to kill you.”

You fought back a smile as Peter 3 gave the boy an encouraging pat on the back, followed by a sharp nod of approval. It was crazy how that simple action of his made your heart soar, but you truly felt overwhelmed as you realized just how kind and supportive Peter was. How, despite all the tragedy he’d faced, he still shone brighter than any star in the sky due to the goodness of his heart. He’d known these kids for two hours at best and he was acting like an older brother to them all.

“Okay … thank you?” Peter spoke, confused. Ned just smiled and a brief, awkward silence set over the lab. “Um,” Peter cleared his throat, then nodded. “Alright, here goes nothing. What’s that thing you always say?” He asked MJ, who sighed knowingly. “Expect disappointment, and – “

“No, no, no.” She cut him off quickly. “We’re gonna kick some ass.” She finished instead, full of determination. And that gave Peter hope as a smile rested on his lips for the first time that night.

“Cure.” Peter 2 corrected. “Cure some ass.”

And within minutes Ned was conjuring a portal, sparks flying in that general area of the lab. Peter 2 had hidden somewhere to take off his civilian clothes, feeling too weird to undress in front of everyone – even though his suit was underneath his clothes. Kid Peter and MJ were close to the portal, tangled in each other’s parting embrace.

You walked up to Peter 3 who was leaning against a desk, waiting. His eyes were on the two loved-up teenagers, although his thoughts were miles away.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You glanced up at him, gaze soft – yet riddled with hidden concern.

“You know you’re staying here, right?” His tone was flat. His fingers drummed on the edge of the table as his hands leaned on it for support.

“I know.”

And Peter turned to you, more surprised than you’d ever seen him. Because he fully expected you to argue against him and he was ready to shoot counter arguments back at you, trying to convince you it was too dangerous and he couldn’t live with himself if something happened to you too but – his argument got washed away by the waves of your agreement.

“Really?” He simply asked.

“Yeah, but you have to promise me something.”

He nodded, exaggerating his movements. “I’ll be careful, I won’t get myself killed and I’ll take care of your Peter, too.” He enumerated the usual mission requirements, emotion blooming into his chest because damn, he hadn’t promised these things to anyone in ten years.

You waved your hand, dismissively. “I was gonna make you promise you’ll come back to say goodbye before you leave.” And while you spoke with casualty in your voice, Peter could feel his heart starting to burn. “But by promising that, it’s understandable you’d also consequently promise to be careful.”

“What are you talking about?” Peter pushed himself off the table, standing up straight – and directly in front of you. “Why are you thinking about goodbyes? I thought we established I’d stick around for a bit longer.”

“You were serious?” You had genuinely believed he was just doing a bit to make you feel better, nothing else.

“Of course I was. As soon as I see the wizard, I’m gonna march up to him and ask – no, tell him to keep me here for, like, at least a week.”

“And then, what?”

“Then we’ll,” he shrugged “figure it out. Together, okay?”

You nodded, hope blooming in your chest for the first time in a while. “Together.” And you didn’t know it, but the same feeling of hope caught roots in Peter’s mind as well. In that moment, as he looked down into your eyes, he finally understood Gwen’s graduation speech – the same speech he’d listened to over and over for the past ten years, without truly understanding or accepting a single word her memory uttered.

No matter how buried it gets, or how lost you feel, you must promise me that you will hold on to hope, Gwen’s words rang through Peter’s mind.

And for the first time in years, he found himself reaching out and grabbing onto the twine of hope, wrapping his fingers around it tightly.

“So, no goodbyes. Once all this is over, Ned’s gonna zap me through a portal back here and I’ll take you to this top-notch pizza place I know, and then I’ll swing you to the top of the Empire State.” A smile erupted onto Peter’s face as he looked at you, eyes taking in every inch of your face.

And then Peter One stepped through the portal, asking if everyone was ready. Peter 2 walked back into the room, now fully suited. His version of the suit was far more intimidating than the other two, having more prominent webbing details, slender, narrower eyes and a material which defined and brought out his muscles. He placed his folded clothes on a chair, then followed Peter One.

Then they both turned to Peter 3.

He looked away from them and back to you, a glimmer of hesitance in his eyes. He took off his lab coat and you gently took it from him, folding it in two and letting it hand over your crossed arms.

You gave him a nod, and a smile, and he mirrored you. And then he walked towards the portal, putting on his mask in the process. No goodbyes, you repeated in your head like a mantra. When he stepped through the portal, feet hitting the metal of the scaffolding which surrounded the Statue of Liberty, the other two Peters swung away.

But before Peter could do the same, you found yourself calling out to him, one last time. Because you remembered something he’d said just moments before and you felt like it needed to be cleared up. And maybe it was the mix of anxiety and affection giving you the need to say these words to him, or the newfound hope and the excitement for a tomorrow by his side – but you felt, deep within you, that he needed to know.

“You’re my Peter, too.” You told him with an unwavering voice.

And Peter thanked God his mask was on because otherwise you would’ve seen his eyes glistening and his cheeks turning soft red.

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