#you’ll have to wait for chapter 9…

[whumpy-wyrms]

ACTUALLY STARTED CRYING WHILE WRITING TLLR CHAPTER 8 OH NO

[hellishjoel]

off to the races

6.3k / dbf!joel x f!reader

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4

series summary: You and your parents rent a lakeside cabin, Joel and Sarah Miller are your neighbors. You’re all grown up, and you’ll do anything to prove to Joel you’re a woman now. 

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), NO OUTBREAK, neighbor!joel, age gap (reader is in their early 20’s while Joel is in his 40’s), alcohol consumption, slight daddy issues lol, cursing, use of pet names, dominant!joel, maybe a lil brat tamer!joel, oral sex (m receiving), a lil praise kink, a lil degradation kink, facial, etc. you know ;)

A/N: needed to get cool slutty daddy out of my system. He’s just a Lana coded man!! I plan on turning this into a series, I hope it get's some love! let me know what you think by sending me an ask!

Your desperate eyes met his, trying to gauge what he thought. You hated how you looked like you wanted him so bad. He was your neighbor, your friend’s dad, but you wanted him to be something for you too.  “I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doin-”  His words made your chest go tight and your eyes filled with pure horror. What have you done?! “But you need to be the one to walk away, because I don’t think I can.”

Summers in Danbury were what you looked forward to all year long when you were younger. You would love the long drive to the lakeside cabin, swimming in the dazzling blue water all day, and catching fireflies at night before ending it with roasting s'mores over the campfire. 

Now, all Danbury reminded you of were your parents stripping your feeling of independence as soon as you stepped in their embrace and the lack of cell service. 

It wasn’t all that bad, though. Who were you to complain about an all-expense paid vacation on the water? Your parents were fine, you just graduated from university, everything was just.. good. It almost made you a little bored, thinking about the impending summer. 

The warm sun’s kiss on your skin was a welcomed greeting after spending the past 9 months away at school out of state, your eyes twinkling below your sunglasses as you stepped out of the car. It was good to be back in Texas.

“Look, there she is!” Your dad cooed as he was eager to point out the sign that sat beside the entrance of the cabin that read ‘Life is Better at the Cabin’. Cheesy. It wasn’t your choice of decor since it was just a rental property, but still. You also despised the ‘The Secret Ingredient is Always Love’ sign in the kitchen. 

You plopped your bags down at the end of your bed, the one just down the hall from your parents, quick to plug in your phone charger though it made little difference with your lack of a strong signal. 

You turned your head to the window, seeing an old, beaten pickup truck turn onto gravel, a small smile peaking on your lips. 

“Hey, look who it is!” Your dad cheered eagerly from the living room, appearing to also be gazing out the window at the sight coming down the road and pulling into the house next to yours. 

The truck in question belonged to Joel Miller and his daughter, Sarah. Sarah had been your close friend each and every summer since you were little. You two were attached at the hip once your family started vacationing here, despite her being a fair five years younger. You two got along nonetheless. 

You stepped outside to greet them, as your mother and father were already out doing, your face lighting up as Sarah made a b-line to your embrace. “Oh my god! Look at you!” She praised, her eyes lighting up at your appearance. 

You two didn’t get the chance to spend the past few summers together due to business with school or internships on your part, so her surprise in seeing you a few years grown up was warranted. 

“Look at me? Look at you!” You said through punched lungs as she hugged you so tight you were losing your breath. 

If you thought Sarah’s tight hug was bad, you weren’t prepared to see what was waiting on the other side of the pickup truck. 

Your lips parted at the sight of Joel Miller. He was sort of… handsome. Was that wrong to think that? I mean, he was so much older than you, someone’s dad, Sarah’s dad. You tried not to let your eyes linger for too long but his voice pitched into the conversation and you had been caught. 

“Hey, Skids.” Ugh. That dreaded nickname you had yet to wear off. “Haven’t seen you these past few summers. Happy to be done with school?” Joel’s southern drawl was a shock to your system after being up in the Midwest for school. 

He was tall and rugged, so unkempt. His hair was tousled everywhere and his beard was growing with salt and pepper stippling through the landscape of his jawline. He looked hot, the faint glisten and stain of sweat marking the collar of his shirt and at the sides of his biceps. 

You blinked a few times before a graceful smile fluttered on your lips.

“Hi, Mr. Miller.” You gently cooed. What? If he could call you by that horrid nickname he had given you when you were barely ten, you could call him by his surname. Your eyes caught his own shift, his jaw twitching at his name being called like that. It was just his name after all, right? 

“Joel.” He corrected with a raised eyebrow, your eyes finally dragging themselves away from his handsome character as they turned to your parents, who were obsessing over Sarah. She was about to go into her senior year of high school, so of course, they had all of the basic questions to ask her. Are you taking any advanced classes? Are you still on the swim team? Do you know where you want to go to college?

You tried to look interested, but you could still feel Joel’s gravitating stare in your direction. 

You were just imagining things, right? He was looking one foot over, to Sarah and your family. Except he wasn’t. You know because you snuck a casual glance over to him, and he was still on you. His gaze alone made a shiver travel up your spine. 

While Sarah and your parents were nestled in their own world of conversation, you take a few subtle steps away and join him by his truck. It still felt warm, the engine relaxing after a good drive in the Texas heat. 

“You need a new truck. She looks like she’s on her deathbed.” You point out, the one corner of his mouth tugging up as he kept his eye on Sarah and your folks with his arms crossed in front of his broad chest. 

“She’s just fine.” He retorts nonchalantly. You hated that about him. You could never figure out what he was thinking, unpredictable but not exactly chaotic. 

“She?” You asked with raised eyebrows. “I always knew you had a special woman in your life. Didn’t know she was so old, though.” You egged him on, your favorite pastime in the summers; Grinding the gears of an old man who had a bigger attitude than you most days. 

“You still have quite the mouth on you. Glad to see that hasn’t changed.” Joel said sarcastically as he pushed himself off the front of the truck with his hip, his head nodding off to the side in a silent way of telling you to follow him. You watched as he pulled down the tailgate, rust screeching until it stopped with a generous thump. 

“Supposed to be Sarah helping me with this, but since she’s busy being Miss Danbury, you can help me.” He said as he pointed to some firewood and other bigger pieces of wood in varying sizes. 

“What do you plan on doing with all this wood anyway? I think the Amazon is looking for it.” You huffed but climbed up into the back of the truck bed without him asking you to. His protective hand instinctively guided your hip for stability, and you felt a rush of air pump through your lungs. “Thanks.” You murmur before you start reaching for stacks you could handle. 

“Sarah wanted to throw y'all a bonfire with it being your first day back for the summer or what have you.” Before you could stop yourself, you were already cooing at him as you jumped down from the tailgate, watching as Joel gave a tight face of annoyance. Don’t do that, you’re gonna get yourself hurt. 

It took Joel all of two seconds to grab two of the larger cut pieces, throwing each of them onto his shoulders. You couldn’t help but stare at his biceps that cradled the wood, the tan skin and muscles popping out of the dark green t-shirt he wore. Focus, focus, focus, focus, focusfocusfocus. 

“And the bigger pieces? What are those for?” You asked out of sheer curiosity now once he threw them down in the back of his lawn, the sight of your parents and Sarah long gone. 

He shrugged and shook his head, his hands on his hips as a layer of sweat started to build up around his hairline. “Just carvin’ projects. The rest can be used for scrap lumber around the lake properties.” His head finally turned to look at you, his eyes raking you up and down for a moment before nodding to your lake house rental. “Doin’ property maintenance over the summer on the houses ‘round here.”

“So if we need maintenance, we call you now?” You asked with a dubious face, to which he nodded. 

This man never stopped. It made sense, you supposed. You reflected on the summers in the past, knowing Joel to manage his own contracting business and picking up odd jobs around town. You remember one summer, he redid the flooring of an old bakery in town and then built custom shelves for the loaves of bread and bagels. Another summer, he repaved people’s driveways with blacktop. He was a laborer, a blue-collar man through and through. 

“That’s right, Skids.” The nickname made you scowl at him again, but you wouldn’t mind seeing Joel Miller laid under your kitchen sink or repairing the window in your bedroom so it could finally let in some fresh air. Frankly, you just wouldn’t mind seeing Joel Miller. 

After Joel reclaimed his daughter from your parents with a snarky yet subtle, Thanks for all your help, kiddo to Sarah, he said goodbye to you and your family as everyone parted ways back to their own homes. 

-

You were tired from the drive, but you didn’t lack attendance to the bonfire Sarah was putting together specifically for you in a welcome back to Danbury! sort of celebration. She invited the other nearby neighbors, so by the time you finally joined, it was packed with people sitting around the fire. People who lived on the lake loved a good party, anything with beer to keep them occupied. 

It was a lot of talking and bottles clinking, marshmallows on sticks, and a crackling fire blazing at the center of everyone. You weren’t one for beer but Sarah insisted on feeding you bottle after bottle. 

She liked sharing secrets with you, away from her dad. She considered you someone she could tell anything to. And you felt the same way. So not more than half an hour later, you two were giggling and sitting on the tailgate of Joel’s old pickup truck when you saw him start to saunter over.  You saw him coming first, snatching Sarah’s bottle out of her hand and taking a sharp inhale as you hid away your own. Sarah’s secret, right? 

“Dad,” she playfully whined when he came over to bust their little party. 

He was silent for a moment before he looked at the dwindling flames. “Fire’s gettin’ low.” He pointed out, looking between the two of you.

His face was lit up in a mix of gold hue from the fire and silver from the moon. His face had this intensity, a bucked-out jawline, cheekbone, and nose. It was like he was carved from stone. 

Sarah was silent, not wanting to leave behind her friends at the bonfire to shuffle over more wood. You softly nodded as you took a swig of her beer bottle in your hand before setting it down once you hopped off the truck bed. 

“I can help.” You offered. Joel looked down at you hesitantly, sneaking a glance to where your parents sat around the growing circle of people.

“Yeah.. yeah, ‘lright.” Joel said as the two of you walked off to the dividing line on his property, the wood you had dropped carelessly earlier in the day now in a neat stack. You certainly weren’t drunk, but slamming Sarah’s beer along with the other ones she ushered you before was now messing with your head, the edges of your vision a little fuzzy, especially in the dark since the glow of the bonfire was at such a distance. 

Before you knew it, you were stacking the wood into your arms, too much maybe. Joel called out your name in a warning tone. 

“No, I got it! See?” You tried to reason with a cocky smile as he shook his head. 

“You don’t like to listen.” He gruffly said as he started picking up the smaller pieces as they fell out of your arms. 

You couldn’t help the playful scoff that left your lips, still insistent on stacking more in your arms, going as far as tucking some in your elbows but all they did was drop at your feet once you went to reach for more. 

“Stop bein’ so damn difficult.” He piped up again as he snagged your wrist, halting your movements. 

“Yeah? I thought you liked difficult women.” Your words were fast like a whip, your eyes challenging his own as the two of you shared unnecessarily long eye contact. 

“Drop-- the wood. Stop bein’ a-” 

“A what?” You challenged. The distance between you two suddenly felt like it was becoming air-tight, his eyes narrowing on yours as his features hardened. He didn’t look mad, lord knows you’d never want to actually make Joel Miller mad. He just looked-- provoked. 

“A brat.” He finally bit, your teeth clenching at the name. The shock of it all made your arms finally burst open like a dam breaching with water, all of them falling to your feet as you let out an involuntary squeal. God, you did not want him to hear that noise leave you like that. 

You finally tugged away your wrist from his hand, your eyes leaving his daggered gaze to examine your palm that had a decent size splinter plunged into the center of it. 

“Shit,” You swore, feeling whatever heat you had left in your body pooling to your stringing finger. 

You heard Joel let out a debated sigh before he took you by your wrist, much more gentle this time, and tried to bring it up closer to his eyes to examine it. 

“Can’t see for shit out here.” He grumbled. You couldn’t see it either but you could feel right where it spread searing pain through the rest of your hand. 

“I got some tweezers in my workshop, I’ll get it out.” Joel offered as he started walking a few paces but you let out an involuntary whimper at the sound of him taking it out. 

“You don’t want that to get infected, do you?” He asked with a true voice of reason, to which you let out a sigh of agreement and followed him to his workshop.

You had only been inside Joel’s workshop a handful of times. You remember once your dad dragged you over so he could talk to Joel about his truck, and you had to wait there and wait there until they finished gabbing. Another time was when you explored it on your own, your eyes fascinated by the little world he surrounded himself in. It wasn’t all wood like you’d expect it to be. He had old guns mounted on the wall, ladders hung up in the rafters, and dusty old fishing plaques that made you disgusted at the sight. It housed his tools, the same ones he had been using for years. He knew where they were by heart, not even looking when he reached for something. Everything had its place, down to the tweezers he immediately found in an old little toolbox. 

“Here,” he said as he pointed to an old metal stool as tall as your waist. You sat down on the cold metal, a little hiss of discomfort leaving you as he sighed. “Always somethin’.” Joel shook his head and offered you a spare dusty blanket, shaking your head. 

“Just-- fix my hand. Please.” You said as you displayed your palm to him, now seeing it in the light for the first time. Okay.. it didn’t actually look as bad as it felt. Joel actually smiled as he looked at the tiny sliver shoved into the skin. 

“..Might have to amputate it.” He said with a half-serious tone, as joking as Joel could sound. But there was a little glint in his eye, one of satisfaction from his own joke.  

“Joel Miller has a sense of humor? I’m surprised. And pleasantly delighted.” You teased as he huffed and shook his head, the smile that graced his lips already came and gone. Sort of. He just looked down at your hand so you couldn’t directly see it anymore. 

It took you until now to see that he changed out of his dark green shirt from this afternoon and into an old 80’s rock band shirt with a worn dark navy flannel over it. He must have showered after laboring in the Texas heat. The thought made your stomach churn in excitement. 

You shivered at how cold you felt all of a sudden, no longer by the warm fire and on this damn metal stool. You shifted uncomfortably on it, cursing yourself for wearing jean shorts. 

Joel let out an exasperated sigh as he stood up straighter and shoved off his flannel, your eyes softening at the sight. 

“You want me to take tweezers to your hand but you keep... shiftin’ around. Stand up.” He directed, and this time you didn’t debate with him. You hopped off the metal stool and he laid down the flannel. It was a nice gesture and you were grateful. You hoped the goosebumps were from the temperature, not how close he was. 

Joel pulled up another metal stool so he could steady himself, reeling himself in as close as he could and holding your palm open in his as his eyes squinted a little bit. 

You felt frozen in place, your lips parting as you slowly looked down to one of his knees that parted between your own legs. Fuck. You weren’t sure if it was the little buzz of beer still in your system but something drove you to have enough courage to gently lay your hand just above his kneecap. 

His eyes flicked up to yours, trying to read what was behind your thought process right now. He looked so confident, you feared you looked all shifty. 

You could feel the worn denim of his jeans under your palm but underneath, he was warm. He was as hot as a furnace as your body craved it. 

“The sliver.” You pointed back out, your voice smaller since you two were in such close proximity. You watched his chest heave as he took a deep breath, grumbling something under his breath before he focused back to his initial task. 

You pursed your lips as you both watched and felt the tweezers line up to the red and irritated skin, his movements precise and patient until you watched him clench the tool closed. 

You let out an involuntary breath of both relief and anticipation, just wanting it out already. 

“Hold on, just gotta make sure I..” Joel’s voice trailed off as he slowly pulled the tiny sliver from your palm, an uncomfortable whine leaving the back of your throat. 

His thigh twitched under your palm at the sound, not even realizing your hand had sunk higher up his jean-clad thigh. 

“Got it.” He finally said, swiping the tip of the tweezer on the table to display the nasty little piece of wood that had caused you all this grief. You let out a breath through your nostrils and nodded. 

“Thank God, no amputation.” You joked, to which he awarded you a small smile. 

“I’ll call the surgeon and tell ‘em to turn around. We’re good here.” Joel said as he gently released your wrist. You watched his features carefully, seeing his lips part as he glanced down to his leg that your hand still held for balance. 

“What’er you doin’?” He finally asked, his voice dropping an octave at the question. Shit. 

Don’t read this wrong, or this will be the most awkward interaction you and Joel have had to date. This is worse than when he saw you fall out of the inner tube while boating, worse than when some kid tripped you at the town barbeque, worse than when you fell off Sarah’s scooter so hard that he gave you the nickname Skids. 

“Woah, Skids! Better slow down!” God, that was so many years ago. His chuckle still echoed in your ears.

Now you were older, you were a woman. You had long legs and glowing skin, and a smile that knocked guy’s out of the fuckin’ park! But he was older too, older than you, younger than your dad but god, not by much. You were so close to him, you could inhale the distant smell of the bonfire, the one he probably made instead of Sarah. He also smelled like an old spice deodorant and fucking cigarettes. 

He was stingy, and greasy, and hot, and Joel. 

Your years of anticipation thinking about him like this was over. 

You bit down on your lower lip, your mind was foggy with the rushing in your heart,  feeling your ears pound and your palm still seared. He was a head taller than you while you sat together, and before you could stop yourself, you were leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his pulse. 

Your lips lingered around his neck for a moment, the sensitive skin of your mouth feeling beard stubble and tasting distant cologne. Your breath fanned over the skin, clammy but sweet with his sweat. 

He didn’t stop you, his eyes merely watching you carefully. 

“What’er you doin’?” He asked again, but this time, his words sounded more-- goading. Do it, I know you won’t. You’re chicken shit. If you know what you want, do it. 

Your heart raced as you nearly leaped off the stool, closing the distance between you two as you stood between his legs. Your hand moved higher on his thigh, so close that you were nearly touching the leather of his belt. Your mouth returned to the sweet spot of his pulse while your injured hand reached up to the opposite side of his neck to gently hold him there. 

“Joel,” you whispered his name breathlessly, asking him for more, feeling his head drop down beside yours. You feared you embarrassed yourself, he wasn’t reciprocating, he wasn’t--

The thoughts brewing in your head bubbled down to a boil as his firm arm wrapped itself low around your waist, keeping you to his front as he pulled down to look at you with a stern look on his face.. You were so fucked. 

Your desperate eyes met his, trying to gauge what he thought. You hated how you looked like you wanted him so bad. He was your neighbor, your friend’s dad, but you wanted him to be something for you too. 

“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doin-” 

His words made your chest go tight and your eyes filled with pure horror. What have you done?!

“But you need to be the one to walk away, because I don’t think I can.”

His words surprised you. He didn’t think he could walk away from you right now? Holy shit. 

Your heart was pumping so hard under his watchful gaze, seeing his eyes look from yours to your parted lips. But he didn’t kiss you, you don’t think you would let him. It felt too intimate. You just didn’t want another boring summer in Danbury and you were determined to have a fling. 

Who knew it would be with Joel Miller. But you wanted him. 

Your brave hands took him by the chest of his shirt, your mouth moving to his jawline as you balanced the tightrope of kissing and nibbling on the skin before your hands moved south to find his belt buckle. 

His legs naturally parted for you, catching a brief smirk on his lips as you took control of the situation. 

“Dirty girl goin’ right for my fuckin’ cock.” He whispered against the shell of your ear, a desperate nod leaving you while your cheek involuntarily rubbed against the stubble of his beard. You didn’t know he talked like that.

You initiated more space for yourself, nudging the inside of his thighs with your own legs as you had his back up against his drafting table with you no longer on his side but standing in front of him. 

Your quick fingers desperately undid his belt, feeling the old leather under your fingers. You didn’t have the balls to look at him and frankly, you were afraid you would lose your nerve if you did. 

His hands were encouraging for your nervous system, firm palms planted into your hips and even going as far as to squeeze the flesh that sat under your jean shorts. His body warmed you up, his eyes admiring you as you plucked open the button on his jeans. 

You pushed your tongue against your cheek in concentration, all of a sudden desperate at the thought of having him in your mouth. You dragged down the zipper, the relaxed denim exposing the black briefs he wore underneath that hugged his tan hips. 

You slowly sunk to your knees before him, as if you were worshiping a God. Maybe you were, it was Joel Miller, after all.

“This what you were learnin’ off at school?” Joel belittled, your head doing a few quick nods as a flush stained your cheeks. God. Something about Joel calling you a slut had you in a tailspin. You couldn’t wait anymore. 

Your fingers delicately felt over the impressive growth that his briefs held down, biting down on your bottom lip as you let your pointer finger make the outline of his girth. 

He let out an audible grunt at the action, his jaw jutted out, and his eyes filled with lust. “Lemme see that pretty mouth.” He practically purred, your chest rising and falling in anticipation as you slowly opened your mouth for him. You felt the intrusion of his thumb, a guttural moan leaving your throat as your big eyes stayed on his. He pinched at the inside of your cheek for a moment, your eyes twinging closed and opening back up with twinkling tears on the brim of flowing. 

“Good girl, keep that mouth open for me.” He encouraged as he pushed two fingers past your lips, testing you. And you were more than willing to accept his little challenge. His fingers pushed on the back of your tongue, feeling your lips graze all the way to his knuckle as you worked on breathing through the feeling of his fingers shoved down your throat. 

You were determined for him not to get the best of you, to prove how you had some experience under your belt. Your tongue willingly swirled around his digits, humming softly as you suckled. Now it was his turn to look like he was ready to fold. You felt him swell in your hand, the hand still stroking over his erection in his briefs. 

He ripped back his fingers, leaving them with a pop to your lips. Holy shit. You took a few deep breaths and swallowed, blinking back the tears that his fingers provoked from going so far down. 

“Damn, baby, look so pretty down on your knees for me. Don’t make me wait ‘ny longer.” Joel’s breaths were heavy, his southern drawl exaggerated in his lust-filled state. 

A proud smirk laced on your lips, his eyes on you as he watched you pry down the material of his briefs, watching as he lightly lifted his hips off the stool and using the drafting table behind him as leverage to let his jeans and boxers rest comfortably around the top of his thighs. What you had been craving slapped eagerly into the palm of your uninjured hand, an unexpected little moan leaving you. 

You studied his cock with anticipation, the glowing pinkish-red tip glistening with pre-cum from all the anticipation. He was generous in size, he would be the biggest you had ever taken. He was just… grown. You let out a satisfied little mmm, smirking up at him as your fist wrapped delicately around the base as you pumped over just the bottom half of him. 

Your hand came up to push some hair behind your ear but Joel was quick to handle that for you, stroking the stray pieces back behind your ear and then planting his palm right on the top side of your head. He tried to guide you closer but you just continued to smirk at him, a desperate grunt leaving the back of his throat. 

“Don’t play with me, kitten.” The nickname had you fawning, much better than the other nickname he had given you in the past. Maybe this new one would replace the old, the girl he dismissed before now a woman whose attention he craved. 

You guided his tip to gently tap at your flattened tongue, using his base to guide him until you generously wrapped your mouth around his leaking head. He let out a satisfied hiss which made you smirk, knowing you were the one making him dance on the line between pain and pleasure. 

You let out an involuntary mewl as the fist he had made in the back of your hair forced you further down his rigid member, feeling wet tears threatening to spill over your waterline as his tip nudged against the back of your throat. He said not to play with him and you disobeyed. 

Your palms flattened to the front of his thighs as you pushed yourself off of him, gasping for air as you swallowed the mixture of your spit and his leakage that clogged your throat. 

“So fuckin’ pretty chokin’ on me like that, such a pretty face.” He sneered, referring to your teary eyes. But the compliment made you blush and the choking and sobbing was all of a sudden worth it for the praise. 

After that, you craved to take all of him just like he wanted. Your head worked in subtle bobs, taking inch by inch of him at a time. Sometimes his hand in your hair guided you, allowing you to take him with confidence as he let out disgusting groans and low moans. 

Your gluck, gluck, glucks filled the shed, hot pants leaving your mouth around him but not willing to let your head up. Trails of your saliva attached themselves from his balls to your lips, the sight being a trophy for your hard earned deep throating. He was already so close, you couldn’t bear not to taste the prize you had worked so hard for. 

All of a sudden, Joel stood up from his seat at the drafting table and you couldn’t help but show a look of disappointment. You thought he was done, going to leave you like a mess on the floor with bruises on your knees from the cold concrete and your slobbery mouth feeling his loss. 

Your wet eyelashes fluttered as he returned to fist the hair at the top of your head and angled your face upward, watching as his other hand yanked on his member. The sight made your jaw drop. 

“Where do you want me to finish?” His words were pained, stretched thin as he tried to hold out for an answer from you. But you wanted him to finish, you wanted to watch his face contort from the wake of his orgasm that you helped create. 

“Mmm,” you hummed out as you purposefully prolonged his finish, watching as his chest puffed and his skin grew rosy from the heat flooding his body. Your cockiness was punished by a tighter grip in your hair, yanking your head closer to his shaft to force a real answer out of you. Your scalp stung but only a smile was on your face. 

“You wanna cum on my face, Mr. Miller?” You asked in the most innocent tone you could muster, your mouth parting at the sight of him. He looked heavenly. The glow from his shed lights made him appear as if he had an angelic glow. But you knew he was hellish, nothing close to an angel. 

Joel let out a scoffy little grunt at your question, a wicked smile gracing his lips as his hooded eyes slowly fell completely closed as the shock of his orgasm coursed through his body. 

You eagerly watched and you hated how hungry you knew you looked right now. You licked your lips, eager for his taste, eager to make the Joel Miller cum. You were desperate. 

His cock began twitching in his hand, watching as he methodically yanked out his own orgasm. His eyes lazily glanced between his shaft and to your large eyes, slowly smirking at the sight of you holding out for him. 

“Let me see that tongue, darlin’.” His words were breathy, just on the edge of no return. You obeyed, dropping your jaw and flashing him your tongue as you fluttered your eyelashes. At the sight alone, he finished himself off with eager grunts and short moans, you swore one of them was your name. 

His hot cum landed on your face, your eyes closing in satisfaction with a cocky smile. Most landed on your tongue, a few piping hot white strands splattered like paint on your cheeks and nose. All the air in your lungs left you as he tapped his pulsing tip eagerly against your tongue, watching with his jaw slack as he let the rest pool onto your tongue and down your throat. 

You swallowed knowing he was watching, his hand in your hair relaxing. He tasted better than you expected, a new craving. 

Instead of fisting your strands, he started stroking them away from your messy face, praising you as he tucked himself back into his pants.

Both no longer in the hot fantasy you swore you imagined once, you tried to collect yourselves. You shakily stood up from the ground, your knees cold from the concrete. You wipe off any dust or dirt they may have collected, sneaking glances at Joel as he fastened his belt around his waist once more and popping the button of his jeans back into place. 

You glanced around for a tissue, your back to him as you cleaned up your face. Oh my god, you were wiping Joel Miller’s cum off your fucking face.  As the two of you pieced yourselves back together, he reached for his discarded flannel that he had given you still resting on the metal chair you previously abandoned before settling between his legs. 

“Said you were cold. Take it.” He said as he fisted some of the material and looked at you expectantly. You sighed before gently taking the material and wrapping yourself in its warmth. 

As he placed a bandaid on your palm to cover your futile wound, you admired the flannel in all of its unknown beauty. 

It was one of his older ones, you sort of felt bad because you could only assume it was one of his favorites. It adorned a few minor holes and rips, some of which were badly stitched back together in an attempt to salvage it for another few years. Despite its appearance, you melted into it because it smelled like him. It smelled smoky like his cigarettes or maybe that was just the residual smoke from the bonfire. As you walked outside, you could smell it clearer.

Sandalwood with a hint of cinnamon, you wondered what cologne he used. 

Your head was lost in thought as you began to wander back towards the bonfire, a sharp clearing of his throat bringing you back to your senses. You whipped around, seeing as he pointed to the stray wood you had dropped from earlier.

“Oh-” you said bashfully as you returned to the pile with him, both of you knelt down picking up stray pieces. Once you started piling the wood in your arms again, he let out a short chuckle from deep inside him as he held your wrist from stacking more. 

“That’s enough for now, just go.” You liked seeing his face lit up like that, knowing you were the cause of it being even better. 

“Okay, Mr. Miller.” You cooed quietly, his face hardening at the name of adoration you had given him. 

“Okay, Skids. I’ll be seein’ you.” He said with a tight nod of his head, his eyes directing you back to the fire. You set down the firewood by the rocks surrounding it as a barrier, clearing your throat as you returned to the tailgate. You could still taste his cum on your tongue. 

No one seemed to notice your trip taking unexpectedly longer than necessary. Your parents were both swaying their heads and laughing, empty bottles by the legs of their folding lawn chairs to explain their obvious lack of awareness. 

Sarah had joined up with other friends in your absence, but you didn’t mind. 

You finally had a moment to reflect on what had just taken place in Joel’s shed. You let your vacation house neighbor cum in your mouth. Your older, stoic, stubborn ass of a neighbor. 

As if on cue, Joel returned to the side of his truck with his body leaning against the tailgate. His jean-clad hip lightly grazed your thigh, glancing over to see him offering you a beer. 

“Since you’re all grown up now.” He said with a little spark behind his eyes. You nodded and took the opened beer with a growing smile. 

“Cheers.” He offered as he held out his bottle to clink with yours. 

“Cheers to another summer in Danbury.” You tell him. 

He cocked his eyebrow and glanced over to you one more time before he focused his eyes on the growing fire. 

“This one ain’t quite like the rest.” It almost sounded like a promise from him. You hoped it was. Because you were wearing his flannel and you were on his knees for him tonight, you wondered what experience of Joel could offer you this summer. 

---

read part 2 - dark paradise!

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[hidden-poet]

Commander Snow; 8

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns, explicit, violence, death.

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

The door was fixed with great haste. Before you knew it, you were back in the apartment playing housewife again. Coriolanus’s distrust of you grew to a new level. He no longer trusted you to remain home by yourself. Edmund was still not found, and Coriolanus was certain he would reappear and take you away.

You now worked with him, slept with him, and ate every meal with him. The fence line seemed like an impossible goal with him being so suffocating. You were pretty sure the broken chain was not found. He would have said something, would have taunted you with how close your freedom was. It meant you had something up your sleeve against him.

But you had no way of getting to it. You had tried to disappear during his work hours, when he was most distracted, but the only time you seemed to be out of his sight was when you showered. If there had been a window in the bathroom, you were sure that he would have been in there too.

You tried your best to soften him with affection. When you had the chance, you baked him the oatmeal cookies he loves. He ate whole plates in one sitting.

But as his work increased, your work decreased. Long days spent at his office were hard to fill. He sat behind his desk and never seemed to stop working. Sometimes there was mending you could do, or shoes to shine but most of the day you sat on the couch reading what was on hand.

You had taken to organizing the books in alphabetical order, then grouped them according to color. You worked quietly and slowly. Careful not to make any noise to disturb Coriolanus from his work. You had taken them down again just moments ago to reorganize them by subject when Coriolanus' assistant came in carrying a tea tray and a large parcel. 

She drops the parcel down on the table in front of you, amongst the books. You look over it to see your name neatly scribbled on the recipient's information. 

The receptionist doesn’t look at you as she puts the tea tray in front of Coriolanus. 

He thanks her but her response is drowned out to your ears by the opening of the box. 

“Is it from Tigris?” 

You wait until the receptionist shuts the door behind her to respond. 

You confirmed it was, as you pulled a soft silk nightdress from the box. It was light pink which was uncommon for the districts. Dark pink lace trimming boarded along the bottom and top of the dress. You run your finger across it. It was the most expensive material you had ever felt. 

Another dress was folded in the box and you take it out. 

It was light blue with yellow birds flying across it, made of a soft cotton material that would fall around your ankles. 

“You like them?” he asks.

“They are beautiful,” you admit. 

You look in the box for more to see a small pouch filled with sweets from the Capitol. 

Tigris was too kind. If things had been different, you would have been a good friend to her. But as her cousin's captive, you were now sworn enemies. The box of treats didn’t change that. 

You return the items to the box and see parchment paper protecting soft material at the bottom. 

“There's a shirt for you.” It was a long white dress shirt with gold stitching running in horizontal lines down it. 

He comes from his desk to collect it. Taking it gently from your hands, he brings it up to his nose and inhales the scent. 

“You really miss home,” you comment, watching him breathe in the scent the shirt carried. 

“I do. More than anything.” He returns to his desk with it still in his hands. 

“You’ll be home soon.” 

“We’ll be home soon”. 

You smile thinly at him. “That’s what I said.” 

“You should see the Capitol. Clothing, culture. Actual buildings, not these pieces of tin. You’ll be able to breathe much better in the Capitol.” 

The scratching of his pen picked up where his sentence had been incomplete as he began his work again. The shirt lay across his lap. 

“I have the day off tomorrow,” he said without stopping his work, “I was thinking we could visit the waterfall again. It will probably be the last time before Ravinstill dies.” 

The thought made your stomach drop. If you don’t make it beyond the fence, it would in fact be the last time you ever saw your favorite place. The time was better spent within the compound waiting for an opportunity. He would never let you get too far in the district. 

“I’d prefer not to.” 

“Why?” he questions with a hard tone. He continued to write but the pen pressed firmly into the paper. 

“I am behind on my chores, and I haven’t made anything in a while. The food in the fridge will go bad if I don’t get to it soon.” 

“Let it. The Capitol is full of food.”

You realize now that Coriolanus had already made up his mind to do the activity. You wondered why he chose it. He hated the heat and the bugs. 

You walk over to the tray of hot tea and pour out a cup, making it to his liking and placing it down in front of him. 

“We’ll go if you want to.” 

“Why don’t you want to go?”

“Why do you want to? The walk up there will take us nearly the whole morning in the hot sun.” 

“I thought it might make you happy.” 

He was trying to win your approval before he ripped everything you had ever known from your finger tips. It was something to use against him. Coriolanus responded best when he was in a position to be a hero. He would do anything so long as he felt he was the only one who could do it for you. 

You lean down and wrap your arms around his shoulders, resting your face against his neck. 

“You know what would make me happy? Some vanilla extract so I can send Tigris some shortbread cookies back”.

He responds positively by wrapping his hands around your forearms. He liked you looking out for Tigris. 

“She’s been asking to meet you.” He says, his hand gently wrapping your arm around his shoulders. “I have a call with them next Friday afternoon. Maybe you’d like to come with.” 

You retract your hold now that he was in a better mood. 

There was only one answer you could give him when it came to his family. 

“I’d love to”. 

You had a deep hate for Capitol people but Tigris seems different. In any case, you were sure you could remain civil for an hour-long phone call. 

Pouring yourself a cup of tea, you return to your spot with it and Coriolanus returns to his work. 

———- 

 You stood out in the sun with Coriolanus as he discussed the new recruits' performance with another high-ranking officer. They were splitting them up into areas of work. The strong and fast became foot soldiers, the slow were put on kitchen duty, and the ones who showed a inclination to aggression were watchmen. He spared a couple to the infantry to learn basic medic care and help around the hospital. You couldn't work out what sent those recruits apart. It seemed random but you knew nothing Coriolanus did was without great care and strategy.

All the men seemed equally angry and you wondered if Coriolanus was the same when he was a Peacekeeper. 

The sun felt nice upon your skin after so long. It was late afternoon and it had just begun to set, leaving behind a nice cool breeze. 

You thought about your mother and Edmund. Were they enjoying the sun too? 

The sound of a vehicle approaching ruined the moment of reflection. Coriolanus took your hand in his as soon as the tires upon the gravel could be heard as if you were to be run over if he didn’t. 

It surprisingly stopped in front of where you stood. A transport car with no doors and a large trunk carried two men. A younger man wearing a District 12 peacekeeper uniform and an older man who wore a Commander uniform set apart by its light purplish color. 

“Commander.” The older man greets as he swings out of the car. 

“Vongurt.” Coriolanus uses his spare hand to offer a handshake which is strongly and fervently taken. 

Another Commander had come to see Coriolanus. You doubted he was any better than the last. 

“This is my wife, Y/N.” With his hand, he leads you in front of him to show you off to the Commander.

You were stiff with shock as the man's disapprovingly raked his eyes over you. He too felt jarred at the label of wife. District women weren’t wives. They were barely considered human.

But he smiles nonetheless, something you couldn’t return.

“Pleasure.” With a kiss placed upon your hand, the Commander's attention was turned back to Coriolanus.

 “Your compound is impressive, Commander Snow. It has to be the largest I’ve seen.” 

Coriolanus seemed unimpressed by the comment. He turns back to the Peacekeepers watching them as they leap, and fight. 

“A palace of scrap metal.” 

He waves over a tall man in a high-ranking uniform, who quickly makes his way over from across the field. 

“Your apartment is only slightly better. Sergeant AJ will take you there.” 

“I was hoping that we could talk. I’ve come all this way from District 2.”

“Later, Commander. The conference room at 7. You’ll have my undivided attention there.” 

The man nods back and follows his guide back into the car. 

Coriolanus makes a comment to his officer about a recruit and the man jotted down all of his thoughts. 

You wanted to get away. Break free from his hold and bolt to the fence line. His delusions had reached a new height, with him now openly telling lies to men with power. 

Your body moves to your thoughts. You hadn’t even realized you were twisting your hand away from him until he tightened his hold. 

He turns to you, asking if you are ok. 

“I need to go home” you respond. Home to my mother. Back home to normalcy. 

“Take whoever we missed today and regroup them tomorrow morning” he directs the man next to him. A whistle is blown and the recruits stop their training, instead they congregate in front of you. 

Coriolanus turns as his officer begins to dish out instructions, taking you back to the apartment. 

“The heat can get to you,” he says. 

You had lived in District 12 all your life if anyone was to know about the heat it was you. But you verbally agree and apologize for taking him away from his work. 

He hushes you and it ends the conversation for the walk home. 

He lets you go as you enter your prison, and you take off without him to the bedroom. 

You hear his voice wafting down the hallway telling you to lie down. You shove your boots off and get into bed. Every day your window closes. It won’t be long before either the broken fence is found or you are carted off on the train. 

But he had called you his wife. Not just to anyone but a Capitol Commander. Even if you got away, the idea that he would leave you here for the presidency is just a fantasy. 

How long would you need to live in hiding before he forgot you? Could you bear the costs of it for as long as needed? What work could you do in the mountains to support yourself and your mother? 

Wife. Why did he have to say wife? You weren’t that. You were his captive, a victim of his need to be cared for. 

Coriolanus enters the room with a wet, cold rag and runs it over your forehead. A victim of his need to pretend he was capable of caring for something. 

He sits on the bed beside you running the cloth over your forehead and into your hair. 

“Do you feel alright?” he asks as you take the cloth off him. 

“I am fine. Just a little lightheaded.” You throw the cloth on the bed stand and he takes it as a signal to get up. 

“I’ll get you some water.”

He disappears and you're thankful for the space to think. Could you tell him you just need a walk around the compound by yourself to think? No, he would take it as an insult. 

You had to get out. The fence was so close. 

You don’t notice him as he sits back down beside you. Only the glass to your lips made you see him. 

“I won’t go to the meeting with Vongurt if you are unwell.” 

You sit up straighter at his words, pushing the glass away from you. 

“No!” you say harshly, “No, you should go. I am fine.” 

“You don’t look well.” You were sure you looked terrible after you had the shock of your life. 

“But I feel fine. Just too much sun.” 

He looked annoyed that you were arguing with him so you switched tactics. 

“We need his support to get back to the Capitol. Maybe you could just leave the door open for some fresh air?” 

You had pushed too hard, and he got up

“If I am not here, the door is shut.”

“Of course,” you breathe with a soft smile at him, “I’ll be fine by the time you have to leave.”

Coriolanus hovered around you for the next hour and a half before he had to start getting ready for his meeting. He took a shower to wash the sweat off him from the day and changed into his official outfit. It fit snugly, his broad shoulders carried the uniform well. 

He attached the dressings of his uniform as you watched him from the bed. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t go tonight. What if you feel unwell while I am away?” His fingers were still on the badge he was trying to put on. 

“I am fine,” you assure him, “I feel fine.” 

“We should invite him here. That way if you need me, I am here.” 

You cringed at the thought of serving Commander Vongurt. 

“I won’t need you. Besides the conference room is much nicer.” You get up to help him put on his badge and send him on his way. 

“I haven’t felt unwell since dinner.” Coriolanus stood over you as you cooked, convinced that the heat in the kitchen would make you unwell again. With a knife in your hand, it was a dangerous time for Coriolanus to tell you what to do.

“You’re sure?” he pokes. 

You were tired of saying it so you just nodded your head. 

“Go to the bathroom then.” 

It was an odd request. 

“What?” you question. 

“Go to the bathroom and take a shower. Get changed into your night dress.”

He checks his watch once before motioning you forward. 

There was no other option for you then to follow his request. You thought maybe he just wanted to complete the bed time routine. He wanted to know you were washed and dressed for bed for his own comfort. You never knew what made him tick. 

You complete the tasks quickly and return to find he had placed a glass of water and a packet of dried mixed fruit.

You quiz him on it but he doesn’t answer. He takes your wrist in his hand and tugs you to the bed.

Taking out his handcuffs, he clips your wrist into the cuff, pulling it up to the headboard where he attached the other cuff. 

You tug against it in protest. “What are you doing?”

“Just in case, Edmund comes back.”

“He won’t! Please unlock me.” you beg. 

“I left your book there if you are not ready to sleep yet.” He stands tall and readjusts his uniform. 

“Coriolanus!” You say in a serious tone, “Get this off of me.”

You pull against it brutally and he captures your hand against the headboard. 

“I left you one hand so you can read. I don’t have to.” 

“Please, don’t leave me here like this!” He ignores you, bending down once more to flick on the lamp. 

“You’ve had a big day. Try and rest. I’ll be home soon.” 

“Coriolanus!” you call out watching him leave. He flicks off the main light as he goes. 

“Coriolanus!” you yell. 

You had never felt anger as you lay trapped in bed. He dictated when you worked, when you rested, when you ate. Nothing was yours anymore. Every breath you took was only because he allowed you to take it. 

There was nothing to tell the time on. It felt like years waiting for him to come back and release you. You didn’t read, only plotted. 

Could you feed him something to make him sick? Surely he would request you to come see him in the infirmary. You could break away when returning from your visit. What if he caught you trying to poison him though? 

Friday provided the perfect opportunity. While he was distracted with his family you could sneak away. The communication building was on the other side of the compound but at least you would be outside of the apartment. 

But how would you get away far enough to make a break for it? You thought about what was in the surrounding area of the communications building. Nothing would be a reasonable excuse to pardon yourself. 

Could you excuse yourself to the bathroom? Surely one of the surrounding offices would have one. Would he let you go alone? Sacrifice time with his family to take you. Would he even let you go or just expect you to make do until the phone call was over? 

You came up with twenty different scenarios of escape routes, each one ended with Coriolanus catching you. 

You wished you didn’t shoo Edmund away now. He could have got the door opened in time. It was only your fearfulness that stood in the way of your escape. You could be with him now, with your mother. Up in the mountains, safe and sound. 

God, you hoped they were safe and well-fed. 

You wished for nothing more than to tend to your mother, to ensure that she was alright. 

The care that was supposed to go to her was now unjustly turned towards Coriolanus, who was adamant to wring it from your hands. 

Edmund had always taken whatever care you gave him with great appreciation. 

Never demanded more, and then took it with force. 

He was kind and patient. Two things Coriolanus is not. 

And now you have dragged him into this mess where his life is at great risk. Still, he had never demanded any more from you. 

When his lips first met yours, they were placed almost in questioning. It was up to you to accept and beg for more. 

You wished you had seen his affection for you sooner. But he was your brother's best friend, and the main protector of you and your mother. If Coriolanus never entered the picture you doubt he ever would have acted on it. 

But he had, and you had returned the affection. It was the start of something new and beautiful or the end of years of friendship and familiarity. 

Once Coriolanus went back to the Capitol, your new life would begin. 

You hoped it would be alongside Edmund. You would pay him back for his bravery.

You would be a good girlfriend to him, then wife, and then mother of his children. You would never ask him for anything, and take great care of his family life. You would ensure his happiness, as he ensures your life now. 

You almost forget you were chained to the bed of the Commander as you daydream of brown-haired babies. But the sound of Coriolanus arriving home was a solemn reminder. His boots against the hardwood floor soften as they reach the bedroom door. 

You still had a great challenge before you got to nurse Edmund’s children. 

You had to get away from Coriolanus, and the only way you could do that is if he had no idea that you planned to. 

The door creaks open and you sit up straight to watch him enter. 

“I am sorry. Did I wake you?” He places his coat on the foot of the bed and crawls over to where you lay. 

“No. I was waiting for you.”

He smiles down at you as he unlocks the cuff from your wrist with the keys in his pocket.

“You seem happy,” you comment. You could smell the whiskey on his clothes as he leaned over you.

“I am. I have you. I have Commander Vongurt’s support behind me, and Ravinstill is not expected to last the winter. We’ll be home before you know it.”

Throwing the keys on his bedside table, he leans down to kiss you before resting his head on your collarbone.

“That’s not long,” you comment. 

“Three months at the most.”

You drowned in your anxiety quietly as he rested. 

Three months and your life was over. 

 He takes your silence as a quiet contemplation. 

“Are you thinking of your mother?” he runs a curled finger along your nose.

“Yeah. I’ll miss her”. You hope to never have to know the pain of missing her again. These past few weeks have been unbearable.

“You’ll write. I’ll organize a time she can come to the compound for video calls.”

You were sure he was going to let you write and call. For how long was another thing. You could see it already, your calls being cut short, your letters ‘lost’ in the mail.

“Yeah,” you respond again.

Your mind races with ideas of escape. You could fake a sickness and be sent to the medical camp. No, he wouldn’t send you there. He panicked today over a supposed case of heatstroke. 

He lowers his head down closer to you where you can smell the evening on him.

“You want to know what I was thinking?” he asks playfully.

You could start a fire during dinner time. He was sure to open the door to let you out before dealing with the flames.

“Yeah?” you entertain. Fire could go wrong for a number of reasons. Besides you would have to fight your way to the oven. Especially now that Commander Vongurt was here. Coriolanus would be too busy to wait for you to cook something.

“I was thinking I hope we have a boy first. Then two girls, then another boy.”

Your eyes shoot open as his hand reaches out across your stomach. His hand finds its way under your shirt and he lays a warm palm over your belly.

Then again, a big enough fire might kill him. Was it worth a shot?

“You called me your wife today. That’s not true.”

“What else should I have called you? We sleep together, eat together, wake together. We look after each other. The only thing missing is an official title but as soon as we get back to the Capitol, we’ll fix that.”

You turn away from him to your side. Now that the talk of the Capitol was becoming a more serious threat, you felt sick.

“Did I scare you with talk of babies? It wouldn’t be for a few more years yet.”

His rants did scare you. That would be your life if you didn’t figure out a way to the fence. Nursing Commander Snow’s babies in the Capitol. Away from your mother. Away from Edmund.

Still, you had to perform. You couldn’t let any more distrust between him and you grow. 

“You didn’t scare me. I am just tired. I’ve waited up all night for you.��

You feel a soft kiss press against your ear before the weight of the bed was shifted as he moved.

“Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He leans over you once more to flick off the light. You hear him walk out to the bathroom to take a shower.

Could you force him to give you the keys? The chain was still dangling from the headboard. If you could somehow get his wrist caught, you could threaten him with a kitchen knife. You shake the thought from your head. You couldn’t hurt him with a knife. You were sure even one-handedly, he could take it off you if you tried.

You just needed a distraction, just two seconds when his attention wasn’t on you to escape.

Wet, salty tears rolled down your cheeks as you lay in the dark, but you made no sound.

You were still awake when he returned from his shower, dressed in his pajamas. Thinking you are asleep he is slow and quiet as he rejoins you in bed.

He curls up against your back and rests his hand on your stomach as if there is something already inside. He wasn’t going to wait a few more years. He said it purely for your comfort.

He dreamt of being a young President with a baby on the way. And another one close after that, and another, and another. He would undo history. He would have as many baby Coriolanus’s and Tigris’ as it took to heal the past.

Watching you nurture, feed, and play with his children would overtake his memories of fighting for his life when he should have been nursed by his mother.

He felt as if he was in the area but soon to be crowned Victor. President Ravinstill just had to die before he could have it all.

His destiny that had been interrupted when his father died but was now back on track. From birth, Coriolanus Snow was supposed to be the man who had it all. Not some impoverished boy, hanging on to his father’s legacy.

When he died, he would be remembered as his own man. Not as the shadow of his father.

Coriolanus Snow; Beloved President of Panem, star pupil of the Academy, Plinth Prize winner, devoted husband and father, and Victor of the games. Coriolanus would be remembered as the man who had it all.

You lay awake under him. The smell of alcohol mixed with the scent of his soap. It burnt your nose as you inhaled. 

 President Ravinstill could die tonight. There was no guarantee that he would even make it to winter. You had to get out. If you made it to the Capitol, you would never get back home. 

While he was intoxicated was your best chance. He seemed so still now, you could take the keys off the nightstand and go through everyone. You were sure he wouldn’t wake, not until it was too late. You remember when your father drank on special occasions, he would sleep for 14 hours at a time. Coriolanus was sure to sleep for at least half that. 

You wait until you can’t feel him twitch before you rise from bed. Very slowly, very carefully, you peel yourself from him, shoving a pillow in your place. He doesn’t move from your actions so you continue over to his nightstand where his key ring is laid. 

Rows and rows of keys looped together. They jingle as you pick them up. Panic runs like ice up your spin as you turn back to see Coriolanus; unmoved and unknowing. 

You wrap your hand around as many keys as you can to stop further noise and make your way to the door. Checking every few steps to ensure he wouldn’t turn up behind you. 

The floor creeks as you pass the hallways to the living room but no other sound follows as you cross the kitchen to the door. 

You start at the very first key. It slots in but refuses to turn. Moving on to the next, and the next in methodological order, bypassing the ones that were too big or small to be entertained. 

You try numerous times but the right key is buried among the many. 

Feeling as if it had been hours since the first key, you felt confident that it was coming up. 

You stuck a key in with no resistance. The hope that died in you reappeared as the lock turned with the key. 

But all too soon it died again, as you felt a hand snake into your hair. It yanks your head harshly back and you find yourself pressed against Coriolanus. 

“That key will get stuck in the door, and it’d be a great pain to get it out again.” 

His hand in your hair pulls you back. 

“I was just going to the kitchen to get some ingredients for a hangover cure. I was coming back.” His hand twists unforgivably in your hair as you make your plea. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he seethes. 

“I am not!” You protest, trying to break free from his grasp. 

“You think I am some type of fool?” 

 Reaching over you, he takes the keys out of the door and leads you back to the bedroom. 

“Coriolanus. Please just listen to me.” 

“If I had listened to you, I would have left the door opened. You spoiled, deceiving, little bitch.” 

He was still drunk. You could smell it from his breath. 

You thought it would make him complacent but it instead made him more violent. 

“I was getting you my father's hangover cure.” 

You stumble as he pushes you over the doorway. 

“You need to trust me, Coriolanus.” 

He shoves you until you are back to your side of the bed. 

“I don’t.”

He throws the keys hard across the room to free his hands. 

“I trust you.” You don’t fight him as he recuffs your chain, instead you willingly go along with it. 

For good measure, you place a kiss on his cheek which throws him off guard. 

“I don’t trust you.” he reiterated softly. 

“That’s ok,” you state, “One day you will. We’ll have a happy life together. You, me, and our children.” 

He looks perplexed at your words but makes no further comment as he lays down by your side, resting his head on you. 

“I’ve tried my best to take care of you. To make you happy.”

“You have.” you console. You were no longer worried about President Ravinstill lasting the night, but rather yourself. 

“Then why-”

“I wasn’t running. I was trying to take care of you.” 

His face turns into your skin. You bring your free hand up to his head and press it down. 

“Everything is ok. Just go to sleep. You’re drunk. You don’t mean it.” 

You run your fingertips up and down starting from behind his ear, down to the bottom of his neck, and up again. You do it until you feel his shallow breaths upon your skin, only then do you release the tears from your eyes.

When you wake the next morning, your wrist is free and Coriolanus is not in bed. 

You rise to find him in the kitchen, frying bacon. Maybe he was too intoxicated last night to remember his anger towards you.

“Good morning,” you offer. He doesn’t return the greeting. Maybe he did remember last night, and you were in a lot of trouble. 

“How are you feeling?” you try again. 

“What’s your father's hangover cure?”

“Two eggs, hot sauce, milk, salt, pepper, and honey”. Your father did not have a hangover cure and it did not include hot sauce or honey, both of which were considered luxury items in the District. 

He looks for the ingredients, slamming the cupboards he turns towards you. “All here.”

“Oh,” you comment, “That’s good. Did you want me to make you one?”

The bacon pops in the pan and you rush over to distract yourself with it. 

“Sit down. I’ll take over cooking”. The bacon was overcooked to the point where it would be barely edible. 

“So what did you need for the compound kitchen last night?”

“I didn’t know we had the items. It's been that long since I cooked, I just assumed we were out.” 

“You assumed you wouldn’t get caught.” 

You sigh. Coriolanus in a bad mood would only mean bad things for you. 

“I wasn’t running. I was trying to help. Are you always going to doubt me?”

“Yes.” he answers, pulling the pan back off you. 

He dumps the bacon onto a plate and takes it to the kitchen table. You begin to clean up after him as he sits and eats. 

The plate is still full by the time he is telling you to go get ready for the day. 

You put on the blue sun dress he likes which acts as a two-second buffer for his anger when he sees you. 

He had paused in the middle of throwing his bacon into the trash. Such a waste of food. You thought. 

But he was determined to stay in his mood. He slides the empty plate across the counter. 

“I am late for work,” he says. 

It was unusual for him not to hold your hand as you walked to his office. You would have to work hard today to please him. 

His tea was already sat upon his desk when you arrived and you rushed to pour him one.

He doesn’t drink it. It goes cold as he does his work. 

You try extra hard to be quiet.  There was sewing left from yesterday which you begin to complete. 

“We still haven’t found your mother,” he says out of the blue after a morning of not speaking or looking at you. 

His words filled you with confidence. If you could get to the mountains, at least you knew you were safe.

He doesn’t look up as he speaks. 

“Edmund hasn’t returned to his house but there was a rumor that he was swapping meat for medical supplies just yesterday.”

What would he need medical supplies for? You wondered. Was your mother okay? Was he okay?

You needed to see them to make sure.

“He’s probably hiding with your mother in what’s left of the forest. Don’t worry. We’ll find him and bring your mother home.”

It was a disguised threat. He was trying to get a rise out of you. 

“Good,” you comment. Keep searching the forest while they remain safe in the mountains.

“Good.” he repeats back.

A comfortable silence returns as you both go back to work, but it’s interrupted by his secretary bursting through the doors.

“Sir! Sir!” she gasps. Coriolanus shot up from his chair.

“Commander Vongurt is angry!”

You follow him without a word out of the office.

“The courtyard!” the secretary directs.

You fall behind his fast pace and reach for him blindly to keep from falling too far behind.

A crowd had formed by the time you reached the courtyard. You could hear the familiar sound of flogging and painful cries.

The crowd parts as Coriolanus approaches. In the middle of the bystanders was Commander Vongurt and a young boy curled on the dirt floor.

Coriolanus looks upon the same boy who failed to hit the target on the hot day.

Grabbing the baton from the Commander, he throws it to the ground.

“What are you doing?”

“Commander Snow,” Vongurt was out of breath from exerting himself in his beating, “This boy is a disgrace to your legacy. I caught him passing scraps to the prisoners through the bars.”

With the protection of Coriolanus, you felt safe enough to speak out, “He’s just a boy.”

“Take him to the jail. He can sleep there for a week if he likes their company so much.”

“Coriolanus!” you take his arm and tug it. He gives you a harsh look and you know you won’t be able to persuade him.

The boy cries out and begins to beg as he is carted away by two others.

“Coriolanus, please!” You tug his arm once more and he hits you harshly across the cheek.  

You stumble upon the impact. The men shuffle away from you as you try and regain your footing. 

Coriolanus takes your arm in a harsh grip, pulling you back in the right direction but he is turned to speak to Vonngurt.

“District 12 is my district. Next time you feel like taking discipline into your own hands, don’t.”

The older Commander nods his head, but you can see he is displeased to have been spoken to in such a manner.

“Let’s go.” He was now talking to you and shoving you forcefully in front of himself back to the office.

You tear yourself free as the door shuts behind you.

“You don’t dictate my decisions.”

Your nose is clogged from your tears. You couldn’t tell if you were crying out of pain or anger. Your brain was still trying to catch up.

“Calling my name,” he says astonished, “It doesn’t matter if you disagree with my decision. Your job is to support me.”

He catches you as you try to make your way from him and he tosses you to the couch, where he stands over you. 

“You embarrassed me. Vongurt already thinks I can’t control my Peacekeepers, now he thinks I can’t control my women as well.”

You cup your bruised cheek. This wasn’t about Vongurt. He was still hurting about your attempt last night. All day he was looking for a reason to lash out, Vongurt only provided the opportunity. 

You were put back on defense. With only at most a month before you were carted off to the Capitol, mistakes couldn’t be afforded.

“I am sorry.” you choke out.  

He squinted his eyes, bringing his hand up to his head before throwing it back again, “What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t!” you spit. There is no sincerity in your voice. 

“Look at me when I am talking to you.” He takes your chin into his hand and pulls it up to his eye level. “Ravinstill is expected to die shortly. This behavior of yours cannot be brought back to the Capitol.”

“It won’t be. I am sorry.” Your fists clench by your side.

He turns your chin to expect your cheek. 

“I did it too. That’s the only reason I spoke out. I would have been thrown in jail too.” you contend.  

He lets go of your chin and stands up to full height, “You think a Peacekeeper would get the same punishment as a District? No. You would have been hanged. Yet another reason to be loyal to me. I’ve saved you.”

“I am loyal to you. Grateful for you.” You get up and follow him as he makes his way to his desk. 

“Coriolanus, please don’t be mad at me. I was only ever trying to help.” 

You sob ugly causing him to spin around. Your cheek hurt, and you felt the weight of the world on your shoulders trying to get away within such a short time frame. You were overwhelmed with the whole scenario and the thought of dealing with Coriolanus as he looked for opportunities to lash out was too much to bear. 

He softens upon your unraveled composure, taking you into his arms. 

“Stop crying. It’s okay”. You feel him rest his head on top of yours. “I am just a little wound up trying to get everything in order. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I am sorry.” 

You smile slightly, he is back on defense. 

—------

Friday came quickly. The call wasn’t until the afternoon so you spent the whole day as a ball of anxiety. 

But at least you had a plan. On evening walks you took more notice of the building surrounding the communications tent, and saw a nurse carrying a load of blankets into a building of washing machines. 

There were few things Coriolanus let you do alone, washing was one of them.

The washing machine in the apartment would need to be dealt with. But the long hours spent in his office meant that the dirty clothes were piling up. He would demand a fresh uniform for work. If you left it close to his phone call with his family, he was sure to let you go. 

You push it out for as long as you can. He had wanted to leave ten minutes ago but you kept pressing him for one more minute. 

You had taken small rocks from the ground during your afternoon walk, telling Coriolanus you would like to take a part of home back to the Capitol with you. He had allowed you to collect a small jar, you picked the biggest rocks you could find. 

Big enough to jam the pipes of the washing machine. 

“Darling, please. We have to leave.” He bangs on the door of the washing room. 

You finish shoving the rocks as far as they would go down the pipe. It made an awful sound as the washing machine ate them up causing the water to rise. 

“Coriolanus,” you call. As soon as you open the door, he grabs your arm, ready to yank you out. 

“Coriolanus. The machine is broken. Look.”

He barely glaces at it, “ I’ll send someone to fix it. Let’s go.” 

“I need to do the washing,” you pick up the basket as he pulls you from the room, “Can I use the compound washing machines?”

“That’s fine. Just move, we are late.” 

You struggle to keep up with him as he rushes along the compound. He hated it if his phone call was cut short by even a second. Now he was two minutes late and he was almost running to make up time for it. 

You reach the building in record time. He lets go of you to pick up speed, leaving you by the door as he hurries.

He rushes to the small screen, not bothering to sit down on the wooden chair as he twisted the knobs. “Tigris, Tigris? Can you hear me?” 

He must have heard a voice on the other side as he broke out into a smile. It was a pretty, genuine smile that you had not seen before. 

“Hey,’’ he laughs.  You watch from where you stand by the door. He seemed almost unrecognizable. A young boy sent away to a summer camp instead of a ruthless and ambitious Commander. “I am sorry. The washing machine broke. How are you?”

His tone is light and happy as he talks to Tigris. You wonder if he had forgotten he even brought you. He didn’t glance at you as he spoke, giving her his full attention. 

You wonder if it is best to make your exit now but his words stop you.

“She’s here.” he waves you over. You drop the basket in coming to him. You wondered what Tigris would look like. What she would sound like. 

Coriolanus holds out the receiver for you. You peer at the screen to see a blonde girl in colorful clothing before you put the receiver to your ear. 

“Hello,” you greet. 

“Oh!” Tigris croons. She pulls the receiver away from her mouth to lessen her shout, “Grandma’am come see!”

She smiles as she turns her attention back to you, “Oh, Coryo has talked so much about you.”

“What is she saying?” Coriolanus places his hands on your hip and pulls down so you are sitting on his knee. 

“She’s said you’ve talked about me,” you answer. 

He smiles gently at you, turning the receiver in your hand out between you. 

An older woman comes too close into the frame and Tigris pulls her back. 

“Is that her?” the old woman asks Tigris who nods. 

“Girl-Girl.” she talks into the speaker. 

“Yes, Ma’am?” 

“You must be grateful he is sending you back to the Capitol. Don’t ruin it like the last one.” 

Coriolanus snatches the receiver away from your ear to soften her words but you heard them any way. 

“Grandma’am is unwell,” he tells you, “Pay her no mind.” 

Tigris takes back the receiver and positions it in a similar fashion to Coriolanus. 

“Did you get the dresses I sent?” 

“I did. Thank you. I was hoping to send you back some shortbread but Coriolanus has been busy with work.” 

“He was saying you cook. Grandma’am and I are so excited to meet you!” 

“Me too,” you lie. “I hear the Capitol is wonderful. I look forward to exploring it with you.” 

Tigris laughs. She was beautiful, you thought. Perhaps too popular to be showing you the capital. You felt foolish for even lying about it. 

“We’ll have a ball. I’ll show you all around.” 

“In time,” Coriolanus interjects. The chains around you would not loosen just because you were in the Capitol. “The Capitol is big. There’ll be time to see it all.” 

You let Coriolanus take over the talking. Only offering agreements or soft smiles as the Snow women talk. 

The family soon falls into a comfortable way of talking. You had said next to nothing for the last 10 minutes, and it had gone unnoticed. It was time to make your way. 

You slowly rise from Coriolanus who latches out on your arm. 

“I’ll just put the washing on. That way it will be done by the time we finish.” 

He tugs you back down causing you to fall into him. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Tigris almost cringe. 

“We’ll do it later,” he demands. 

“We’ll be washing well into the night if we leave it any longer. I’ll just pop it on. I’ll be five minutes.”

His face twisted with his words but you kissed him to stop them from leaving his mouth. It was the first time you had ever kissed him on the lips. You could tell by the way his mouth stilled that he was surprised. 

“Five minutes.” You kiss his bottom lip to quell any fight he has in him. Grabbing the phone in the meantime. 

“Tigris. Grandma. I’ll just be 5 Minutes to put the washing on”.

Tigris smiles at you, letting you know that it is fine. You could just barely hear Grandma’am make a comment about how the people in the Capitol don't do their own washing but it is cut off by you shoving the phone back in Coriolanus's hand. 

He cups your face to bring you down for another kiss. 

“Five minutes,” he repeats. 

You smile at him as you pull away. It was too easy, You had won. 

It felt like victory as you picked up the basket and placed it on your hip. You turn back halfway out the door to see he has gone back to talking to his family. 

You don’t make it to the tent. Five steps away from the door and you had dropped the basket and taken off at a fast pace. 

You walk to try not to draw attention to yourself. It worked for the most part. Hardly anyone gave you a glance. You could see the bins coming into sight. Your freedom is just behind them. 

“Hey!” you hear someone call out. You ignore them at first, not thinking they could mean you. But a harsh hold on your arm spun you towards a Peacekeeper. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

“What? Nothing”. Your freedom lay not ten feet away but was hindered by a zealous guard. 

“Where’s Commander Snow?” He held you too tight. It interfered with your clear thinking. 

“The communications tent.” 

“Is that where you should be?”

“No,” you try and tug your arm away from him but his nails dig in. “Let go of me. Let go!” 

“Let’s go ask Commander Snow what you should be doing.” The man starts to drag you along as you dig your feet into the dirt. 

“Let go!” you shout. He was sure to notice you gone soon if he hadn’t already. Time was running out. 

In frustration, you slap the Peacekeeper across the face. 

“How dare you touch me. I’ll tell Commander Snow about this. You’ve hurt me. 

You feel his grip loosen on you but he doesn’t let go completely. 

“No, I haven’t!” he says somewhat fearfully, 

“Commander Snow has asked me to get something for him, and not only have you stopped me from doing that but you hurt me in the process. How do you think he will react to that?” 

You manage to tear free from him and give yourself some distance. 

“I am going to do as he asked me, and you are going to do your duties like you should be doing. Otherwise, I’ll report you to the Commander." 

The Peacekeeper mulls over his course of action before raising his hands.

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. Excuse me.” 

You turn your back on him and quicken your steps to your destination. Making sure the coast is clear, you crawl behind the large bins. You couldn’t see any broken fence behind it. 

Did they find it? Have you just made a fatal mistake?

You continue to crawl, placing your hand on the metal for any movement. 

The chain bends showing cut wire as they bend. Relief washing through you. 

It digs harshly into you as you pull yourself through. 

You could have kissed the dirt on the other side. Freedom. Edmund. 

The guard in the tower above you looks out across the field. You keep under his eyesight as you slide across the fence as quietly as you can. 

It runs out, leaving ten feet of open field before the safety of the forest. Ten feet and then you were free. There was no cover, meaning that the guard could easily spot you if he was looking. 

You say a silent prayer that the guard will keep his focus straight before you take the chance of discovery. 

You leap across the field, throwing yourself upon the first tree you touch. The bark smashed your bruised cheek as you waited for the sirens to sound. 

He mustn’t have seen you. You had got away. 

You take a second to laugh as quietly as you can. Run, a voice in your head told you. You regain your breath and do. You run as fast as you can, taking the backroads back to your home. 

Your lungs burn, willing you to stop but you keep going until your house is in view. You only slow down to stop drawing attention to yourself. 

People had started to return home from work. You could see them as you walked along the back of their houses. You're careful not to be seen. 

The back steps of your place come under your feet, and your caution disappears as you fling yourself into your home. 

Edmund was sitting at the kitchen table dressing a rabbit he caught. 

He stood up. Turning his knife towards you thinking you were an intruder. 

You knew he would never hurt you so you throw your arms around his shoulders despite the threat. 

The knife drops and he takes you into his arms. 

“I was so worried.” he breathed. 

“We have to go. We need to leave,” you state but make no attempt to pull away. 

He does pull away, throwing the rabbit into his hunting sack and picking up his knife. You take his bloody hand and he leads you back out the back door and into the forest. 

The walk to the mountains takes well into the night. You both do it silently. What was there to say? There was still a long road to safety. 

You stay as close as you could to him. Always holding his hand or latched onto his arm. 

The mountain trail is tough and you wonder how he made it up with your mother on his back. He knew the way well, having worked in the mines nearly all his life. He warned you of which boulders were loose, and when you tripped over he caught you as if he almost expected it. 

You were worn out by the time you reached the campsite. Rows and rows of small wooden houses for the miners. All were empty this time of year as it got too dark too early and not light enough too late for the hours they worked. 

You saw a freshly put-out fire and knew that your mother was close. 

“Your mothers in that one,” he pointed to the right cabin, “My family’s in the next one.” 

For the first time in the hour's walk, you tore free from him and ran into your mother's cabin. 

It was a relief to see her sleeping figure. You throw yourself on top of her and begin crying.  

She wakes in fright but knows the figure of her daughter well. She throws her arms around you and joins you in crying. 

You were home. You were safe. 

—---------

As soon as the door closed, Coriolanus felt as if he had made a mistake. He trusted you.

You were better now. Doing well. He could trust you. 

But Tigris’s words made no sense to him. You were coming back. 

He tried to focus on his family but he eyes the door expectantly. 

Dread fills him. How long did it take to put on washing? 

“Coriolanus?” he hears Tigris call.

He dashes out of his chair. He had made a very big mistake. 

“Coriolanus?” the receiver resounds. 

Upon opening the door he is met with his washing by his feet. He takes off running to his apartment. You were sick the other day, maybe you had fallen ill again and taken to bed.

He pushed past Peacekeepers as he ran to his steps. Taking them two at a time he reaches the top and pushes open the unlocked door. It was only ever locked to keep someone in, never someone out. He calls out for you but is met with silence. 

He opened every door along the way to the bedroom, hoping you were just hiding. 

He calls your name again and again until falling silent upon the empty bed. You weren’t here. Coriolanus had made a big mistake. 

Clicking the radio built into the collar of his shirt, he demands that the compound is shut down.

“Has anyone been through the gates?” Both leading officers of the two entryways confirm that no one has. The Peacekeepers are diverted into searching the compound for you.

Coriolanus joins too. He didn’t trust the ability of his Peacekeepers. He searched every nook and cranny of every office and building he could find. His temper flared the longer the search went on. 

You had to be in the compound. How could you have got out?

He returns to his apartment. Maybe you had returned upon hearing the sirens. 

A cat catches his attention as it sits meowing and eating bits of food from the ground that the birds had managed to pick out. 

He had never seen a cat in the compound before. Could it have got in the same way you got out? 

He walks over to search it for any clues it might have but it runs off as he comes closer. 

He chases it behind the bin where he watches it slip through the bent wire in the fence. 

You had got away. Now at large in the districts. 

He sighs deeply before taking his rage out on the back of the bins, bashing and kicking at it until he is forced to lean against it to catch his breath. 

A search party would be sent out, interrogations would be issued. Someone had to have seen you along the way. He would find you and he would bring you home to him. 

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[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Part 9

Anything?

Numbers Game Masterlist

Pairings: Cross Guild x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4515

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Summary: These dangerous men give you what you asked for. So you ask for a little more.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Swearing, Smut, Established Relationship, Manipulation, Humiliation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Size Difference, Dom Dracule Mihawk, Cuckolding, Daddy Kink, Overstimulation, Hair-Pulling, Degradation, Threesome - F/M/M, Threats of Violence, Choking, Masturbation, PIV Sex, Unprotected Sex (Be safe out there!), Orgasm Control, Multiple Orgasms, Spit, Sex Toys, Anal Play, Large Cock, Blowjobs, Shameless Smut, Anal, Double Penetration, Knifeplay, (hook play?), Aftercare

A/N: Heeyyy, so this was meant to be the conclusion of this "one shot." I really hope you enjoy this filthy chapter! I will be pausing this series to catch up on my other projects, so I hope this is a satisfying place for a little break, but I do plan on playing around with these little fiends some more! (Let's be real though, I might just write the next part tomorrow because I have zero control over my feral brain 😅)

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

“Wait.”

You were still frozen after Mihawk’s filthy command, so Crocodile’s deep voice just gave you a reason to be still. 

“What are we waiting for, sandman? You told me to stretch–”

“You’ve been hogging all the fun, swordsman,” Crocodile huffed as he stood from the couch.

The massive room narrowed down until all you could see was his veiny, overwhelming cock.

The large man looked down at you with knowing eyes as your mouth went dry. That impressive length bobbed above your head as he moved toward the edge of the coffee table. He went to his knees, and your breath hitched as he started to cage you in.

“I just want a little taste,” Crocodile teased, his deep voice sending chills through you. 

He dug his fingers into your hip until you cried out, but he kept his eyes on Mihawk.

“You’ll still have plenty of work to do. I just wanna fuck my pretty girl’s ass with my tongue before you get it all stretched out.”

The moan that left your lips was almost frightening. It didn’t help that Mihawk was laughing while Crocodile’s one hand flipped you over. That hand was so strong, so big, and suddenly you were flat on your stomach on that coffee table, Crocodile’s fur coat surely wrecked at this point. 

You weren’t sure what you were expecting next, but the heavy smack of his huge cock hitting your ass was not it. Another desperate moan escaped you, and you subconsciously tried to crawl away from that threat.��

Your struggle brought a very different threat to your throat.

Sharp. 

A sharp prick of metal made you gasp, all of your forward movement halted. Any struggle away from that heavy, veiny weapon he wielded would have you skewered on the hook curled around your throat. 

“Baby girl,” Crocodile growled, leaning over to brush the hair from your face while his hook stayed in its lethal position. 

“Didn’t you promise Daddy that you could take it?”

A pathetic whimper started, but got trapped in your throat as the movement pressed against that piercing hook.

He stroked that big hand down your back and the meat of your ass a few times while he let out a soothing hum. As soothing as a sound could be with a deadly weapon at your weakest point.

He started to thrust across your skin slowly, and that thick, warm flesh rubbing between your cheeks to your lower back had you clenching with fear and anticipation. And through it all, your body reacted, dripping with need.

Crocodile thrust a little harder until the heavy slap of his balls met your wet cunt. He moved his hook just in time before you speared yourself on that cold metal while you cried out for him. 

“Shh, sweetheart. Don’t you trust me,” he asked as he peppered kisses down your back, removing that heavy threat of him from your skin.

All you could manage was a weak moan that almost sounded like, ‘yeah.’

“Don’t be scared,” he breathed over you, his vicious fingers reaching under your hips as he forced your ass into the air. 

“How about you hold onto this, huh? Hold it tight while I make my sweet girl feel so good.”

With your upper body still pressed into his coat, Crocodile stretched his long arm forward until you could wrap your left hand around that golden hook. 

He left kisses on your lower back, and smoothed his hand over your ass, lifted up toward him, like an offering for its new owner. 

That’s what this is. They’ll take care of me. Because they own me.

Again, your mind tried to fight. It tried to fight to be terrified, disgusted, angry.

But your body had its own plan. The thought of this frightening man owning every fucking inch of you had your body sighing, going limp and loose, pushing your ass up higher for him. 

“Mm, there’s my sweet girl.”

His long, warm tongue licked a stripe from your clit to your ass before he pulled one of your cheeks aside, and started circling that tight ring of muscle with that large tongue. 

The noises leaving your throat were unrecognizable, animalistic, as he wasted no time in shoving that thick tongue into your tight ass. 

It was too much, and it was too fucking good.

Especially when he brought one of those damn fingers to circle your clit.

“Fuuuckk, Daddy…” 

“Mm, what is it babydoll,” he teased, removing that intrusive, delicious tongue. 

“Does my little girl like Daddy’s tongue in her ass?”

“Mmhm,” you begged, writhing your body to make him keep going.

His laughter vibrated through you as he kept going. His fingers teased your clit expertly, while that tongue invaded you, twisting, shoving, curling around until you came. 

You cried out as you fell apart again, as he shoved his tongue so fucking deep while your body convulsed. Every insane orgasm they ripped from you kept pulling you under.

You hadn’t realized you’d been moaning the word ‘daddy’ until your breathing started to calm, his lips leaving warm kisses along your lower back. 

“Told you she was a good girl,” Crocodile teased as he pulled away from you. “Our sweet girl’s ass just milked my tongue like her life depended on it.”

“Really,” Mihawk drawled, his voice moving closer, “because that sounds like something a slut would do.”

The insult from his filthy mouth sounded like the highest of praise, and it brought another moan from you. 

Crocodile huffed as Mihawk traced his hands along your face and back. 

“Our little rabbit is only a slut for us though, right? Our pretty, precious slut that comes just for us?”

“Mmhm,” you breathed out, trying to push yourself up.

“Such a good girl,” he teased as he pressed down on your upper back to keep you in position. “Time to get you ready. I know how much you’ve been waiting, darling.”

He was behind you now, trailing fingers up your thighs before teasing your folds with his swollen length, bringing his breathy name to your lips.

He chuckled as he entered you slowly, your fingers clutching at the coat beneath you. He started a slow pace, tracing his fingers around the meat of your ass until you were twitching. 

The cool drip of liquid onto your asshole made you clench, and the press of the plug that followed had you shaking, groaning with pleasure. He teased and played with you slowly, stretching you out bit by bit as he pushed it further into you. The tight, almost stinging feeling had your eyes rolling back as it filled you more and more.

Mihawk kept that slow rhythm with his cock and the toy, making you lost in sensation until his taunting voice brought you back.

“I've got some questions, little rabbit, and I expect honest answers. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good. I’ve just been curious about something. Since you were so desperate for us to fuck you the day we arrived, I had to wonder if your needs weren’t being met.”

It wasn’t a question, so you didn’t answer. But if you opened your eyes, you knew you’d see Buggy on that green chair. 

“Did you enjoy letting that clown fuck you?”

When you paused, he pushed the plug in just a little more, making you cry out your ‘yes.’

“Interesting. Did you ever let him into this lovely, tight ass of yours?”

“Yes.” 

“Let’s see,” he teased, bringing more wild noises from you as he stretched you further. “What else would I like to know… How about, did he ever let our sweet rabbit fuck anything into his ass?”

Your eyes fluttered open to see Buggy watching you, his mouth hanging wide.

“Yes.”

“Mm, what a giving lover you are. Such a shame he didn’t treat you right.”

He pressed the plug fully into you now, and didn’t give you time to stop thrashing before his lube covered fingers teased around his cock.

“What are–”

“Stretching you out, darling. You saw Sir Crocodile’s cock, didn’t you? Just take a deep breath…”

Mihawk’s fingers pressed into you, stretching your pussy next to his already impressive cock. It was overwhelming, the fullness you felt left you panting. 

“I think I have one more question for now,” he mused, fucking you slowly open.

“Does the clown’s cock detach, and fly around like all his other bits? Does it function like that?”

You didn’t think it was possible for your skin to flush even more, but you felt your face burning.

The pause you took elicited a deep thrust that had you whimpering.

“Yes, it does. It works.”

His deep laughter hummed through you, before he removed himself, and the plug, leaving you empty. 

Strong hands lifted you gently, and you relaxed against him.

A contented sigh left you as he kissed you from your temple down to the crook of your neck, his facial hair tickling as you failed to push him away. 

Mihawk nipped playfully at your neck, leaving you giggling. As terrifying as this man was, he could be fucking cute when he wasn’t trying scare you.

“Here we go, rabbit,” he rasped in your ear, nibbling on it before he went on. “I can’t wait to watch you break on our cocks, pretty thing.”

Your shaky hands tried to cling to his shoulders as he sat you on the couch, your feet resting on Crocodiles lap.

Right next to his glistening cock, covered in lube, and waiting for you.

“Come on, sweet girl,” his deep voice beckoned, “come sit on Daddy’s lap.”

Mihawk chuckled at you again from his spot on the table while you were frozen. You didn’t even mean to stay still, you were just overwhelmed. 

“We’ll start nice and slow, sweetheart. I know you can take it.”

How can his voice seem so sweet, even with the thread of danger riding just underneath?

Crocodile’s voice helped you move, and you reached for his offered hand and hook. Sitting on his thighs with his pulsing need between you, you basked under his gaze. 

Again, there was still that feeling of being an object, a prized possession. But the way his eyes roamed over every inch of you had you shivering. Like you were stunning, precious.

The cool metal of his hook stroked your cheek, and your eyes fluttered closed at the no longer unwanted sensation. 

“Put your hands on my shoulders, babydoll. I’ll help you.”

You obeyed, your hands still trembling as he guided you to hover slightly above him.

“Let me feel ya just a little, sugar.”

His husky voice gave you chills as you lowered just enough.

He rubbed his tip through your folds, pressing against your sensitive clit, until you had to fight to stay steady.

“So pretty when you dance for me.”

Your eyes had closed as his words rolled over you, but they snapped back to him as he lined himself up. 

“Be a good girl, and breathe for me, alright?”

Now that he was pressed at your entrance, already feeling huge before he was even inside you, he brought his large hand to your waist. It didn’t hurt, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to escape that firm grip unless he let you. 

He kept stroking the back of that hook along your skin as he told you to relax.

Your eyes went wide as you started to take him in, your fingers clawing into his shoulders. You’d never been with anyone this big before and it felt intense, the tip of him invading you as you tried to pull away.

That firm grip of his kept your hips in place while he watched you squirm, digging his fingers in hard until you looked at him.

“Quit fighting. You said you could take it, sweet girl. I don’t like liars.”

His soothing smile would have had more effect if he hadn’t coupled it with those words, and his hook around your neck. Another chain to hold you in place.

“If you don’t breathe, it’s gonna hurt worse. You don’t want Daddy to hurt you, huh?”

You tried to focus on breathing, but a smirk touched his lips that stopped your breath again.

“Mm, but you liked pain, didn’t you,” he taunted, still holding your body at the very tip of him. “Would that help you out, sugar?”

The point of his hook scraped lightly across your lower back, your eyes rolling as you gasped in pleasure from the teasing pain.

That brought out a desperate cry as your body shoved itself further down his shaft from your writhing movement. 

Mihawk was chuckling behind you again while Crocodile showered you with praise.

“Look how well you’re doing for me, baby. That was so good, your pussy feels like heaven, sweetheart.”

Your fingers were digging into his arms as you tried to get used to the stretch. Then his fingers dug into your waist again, and his dark eyes burned into you.

“That’s enough waiting. You know you can take it now, pretty girl. Either you do it, or I’ll do it for you.”

Frozen again, you gasped as he wrapped the hook back around your neck.

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

His growl rolled through your skin, and you started to slide yourself onto him. Your legs had gotten wobbly from sitting above him like that, and he was kind enough to hold you up by the waist when you shook, almost falling down his length. 

The tight, burning stretch of him stole your thoughts. He filled you up more and more, until you took in almost all of him, whimpering in his lap with tears in your eyes. 

“Such a good girl,” he moaned softly as he leaned down to kiss your temple. “You feel me filling you up so good, huh, sweetheart?”

All you managed were whimpers, pathetic fingers grasping at the muscles of his massive chest.

Pleased laughter rumbled through him as he gripped your waist again.

“Just relax, babydoll. I’ll do the rest.”

Your body clenched and tightened around his as he started to move you up and down. Even one handed, he had no trouble lifting and sliding your body while you broke apart, shaking and moaning for him. 

Your grasping hands reached up to hang onto his hook, holding it in place around your neck, and clawing uselessly into the metal.

More praise left his lips as he started slow, but soon you were screaming as he bounced you on his cock, finally forcing your body all the way down until you were filled to the brim. 

“Fuck yes, my perfect fucking girl,” Crocodile moaned between that brutal bouncing. “Knew you could take it all, baby. So proud of you.”

You whimpered when he took his hook away, reaching for something else to cling to. 

Instead, you felt lips and teeth along your neck, sending a pulse of heat right to your core.

The painful stretch of the man beneath you was still overwhelming, but it was also incredible. You were already so close, and Mihawk’s teasing touches had you throwing your head back.

“I thought I might have missed it, but it doesn’t look like you’ve broken her just yet,” Mihawk spoke over you as his hands played along your breasts, lightly pinching your nipples to make you thrash again.

“She’s almost there. Our sweet girl can handle a lot, can’t you, baby.”

“Mmhm,” you managed, trying and failing to help him move you as he fucked you like a doll.

“Alright, little rabbit,” Mihawk breathed along your ear, “I’m going to take you now, just like you wanted. Remember, darling?”

His hands roamed your body, before trapping your hands in one of his. The press of his chest against your back was like fire, heating every part of you. Crocodile slowed, a deep hum moving through him as Mihawk's attention made your body squeeze onto his even more.

“Remember these sweet little fingers trying to please you? When what you really wanted was to be our little treasure? To let us fuck you dumb?”

His words alone would have made you cry out, but he chased those words by stuffing his wicked fingers into your ass, lube letting him slide in easily. 

“Do you still want that? Does our pretty pet want us to fuck her full until she’s dripping with come?”

So much. It was all so much. You could hardly think. 

“Please.”

These two dangerous men both let out deep, satisfied laughs, and you ate it up. 

You wanted them. You wanted it all.

This feels so fucking good.

Mihawk pressed the tip of that thick cock into your ass, reaching his skilled fingers around to your clit.

You came before he’d pushed halfway in, and he used your spasming body as an excuse to sheathe himself fully, ripping screams from your throat. 

Mihawk pushed you forward until you were panting on Crocodile’s chest, while he set one foot on the couch beside the larger man’s thighs to get better leverage. 

You hardly heard their praise through your orgasm as your entire body was focused on the sensation of being full.

“Pretty girl,” Crocodile rasped, helping Mihawk move your body over theirs with his hand on your hip. “Taking us so well. Gonna take care of you, baby.”

Your nod against his chest was probably lost in the heavy thrusts taking you over, making you theirs. 

“He’s right, little darling,” Mihawk purred, wrapping his free hand around your chest to pull you toward him again, arching your back. “I’ve never met such a magnificently filthy rabbit like you. I’m going to make sure you get every sick thing this delicious body craves.”

He kissed your cheek, the sounds of his promise, and his rough breathing, bringing you close to the edge again.

“Pl–”

He took away the fingers at your clit, needy whimpers bringing fresh tears to your eyes. 

“Don’t fret, love. Just answer my questions.”

You nodded desperately, the pressure of their cocks even more intense without his skilled fingers against that needy bundle of nerves. 

“Would you like all three of your pretty holes stuffed full of come?”

A whine left your lips, not understanding.

“What are you doing, swordsman,” Crocodile questioned, his growl almost breathy as he kept shoving into you. 

“Just giving our pet everything she wants,” he taunted, nipping your ear again. “Would you like that clown's cock down your throat while we fuck our come into you?”

A stifled moan floated from behind you, but you couldn’t try to look as Crocodile’s hook touched your cheek. 

That beautiful, frightening man looked down at you, and fear ripped through you again. 

What do they want me to say?

“I don’t like liars, sweet girl. Answer his question.”

They both slowed and paused inside you, your body aching with the need for them to just move. 

“Come on, vixen,” Mihawk coaxed, “it’s a simple–”

“Yes,” you gasped, hoping they wouldn’t punish either of you. 

“You heard her, clown. You should be grateful our little rabbit is so generous.”

The breath you’d been holding came out in a filthy moan as they both started fucking you again, Mihawk’s fingers going back to where you needed them. 

“Hurry up, clown,” Crocodile threatened, his breathing getting ragged again as he bounced you up and down. Your body felt the slide of every thick vein along your clenching walls. 

“If you don’t put your pathetic dick in our sweet girl's mouth right now you won’t be getting it ba–”

If you weren’t almost completely fucked out, you might have giggled at the sight of Buggy’s heavy cock flying in the air above your head, circling for a moment as if afraid to get too close. 

You opened your mouth, letting out a moan that was all the invitation he needed. 

Buggy shoved in harder than he normally does at first, and you felt him pause, as if he hadn’t meant to be that rough. He let you adjust, and you noticed the salty taste of cum along his length. It was more than precum, and it seemed like he’d failed to wipe off all the come he must have spilled in his clothes while he watched you getting fucked.

That thought, that taste, and that force of him down your throat did you in. 

No more thoughts. No more worries or fears. Nothing but these three cocks throbbing inside you, taking you, molding your body to fit theirs. 

A vague awareness you still had on reality noticed your muffled, choked screams, your body thrashing until firm hands held you in place, a hook around your neck, fingers pulling at your hair. 

Sweet praise, vulgar grunts, and the wet, slapping and squelching sounds of your body being used filled the air.

“My sweet girl…”

“My little rabbit…”

“My pretty star…”

You almost didn’t hear that last soft voice before his come spilled down your throat, your hands grasping at someone’s skin while your eyes fluttered.

He left your mouth, floating away while you licked your lips. 

“You ready to fill our girl, Crocodile? I think she’s waited long enough.”

Mihawk’s fingers danced on your clit even faster, and the feeling of their cocks rubbing against each other through the thin, sensitive flesh inside you brought drool to your lips.

“Let’s take care of her,” Crocodile’s voice seemed to threaten, the jolting of his hook around your neck bringing your heavy lidded eyes to his. 

You couldn’t keep your eyes on his for long. 

Not as you felt both of them throbbing, their thrusts slowing and staggering, and their deep moans vibrating through you.

“Such a good girl, taking my come. Fuck, baby…”

“My greedy little pet, you like us fucking you dumb? Get used to it, darling. You feel him filling you, unf, filling you up? Take mine too, rabbit. Fuck, milk our cocks just like that…”

One more orgasm tore through you, like your body was made to suck them up, to devour them. 

Feeling their achingly hot ropes of come pouring into you was one more sensation on a pile of others tonight that you never knew you needed. But now you needed to have it again. 

After all your thrashing and screaming had ceased, gentle hands laid you onto that warm expanse of chest. 

The emptiness was abrupt and painful, and Crocodile gave you soothing noises and praise while Mihawk trailed fingers down your skin.

“Crocodile, you really should get a look at how beautiful she is. Forget jewelry, our little treasure deserves to be dripping with come everyday.”

His pleased voice was close to you, and you twitched as he left soft kisses along your lower back. 

“I’ll have plenty of chances to see her like that. Let’s take our pretty girl to get cleaned up. Clown, go make sure there’s enough towels in my room.”

“Why your room,” Mihawk questioned, as you heard the door to the lounge open and close. 

“I had my own bed brought in,” Crocodile said, his deep voice making you sleepy as you felt it through his chest. “It’s got more than enough room for the three of us. Unless you’d prefer to sleep alone?”

“Not at all. I doubt the bath will be large enough, although I suppose you prefer showers,” Mihawk mused as you heard the distinctive sound of wine filling his glass. 

Soft whimpers left your throat as your wrecked body tried to knock you out. Crocodile just ran that huge hand down your back, shushing and soothing you until the door opened again. 

“Darling, is there anything else you need besides a shower,” Mihawk asked, sitting beside Crocodile to stroke his fingers through your hair. “We’re bringing water, and wine, but let us know if you’re hungry. Our little rabbit put in a lot of work tonight.”

“You need anything, sweetheart?”

Both of their voices offering to care for you sent chills over your skin, and you moaned softly as your body twitched. 

“Please, just…”

Mihawk brought your fingers to his lips, another soft kiss making you sigh.

“Please, keep touching me.”

“Mm, my pleasure,” he purred, leaving another gentle kiss to your knuckles. “Let’s get you cleaned up. 

Mihawk wrapped you in that ruined coat before carrying you down the long hallway, bringing you into Crocodile’s suite as you heard the large man’s voice echoing in the hall. 

“Sit by the door, clown. I want you here in case our girl needs anything.”

A small noise escaped your throat, but Mihawk just kissed your forehead, carrying you away.

“Can you stand for a moment, love? You can hang onto the counter.”

This cruel, terrifying swordsman set you gently onto the bathroom floor, took that heavy coat from your shoulders, and knelt at your feet. He brought a damp washcloth to your skin, handling you with so much gentleness that it made your head swim.

Until he looked up at you with a wicked smirk, and opened that mouth of his.

“Look at my slutty little rabbit, dripping come all the way down to the floor.”

Your body tightened, and your knees went weak as you tried to catch yourself on the counter. 

Mihawk just laughed, carrying you to the large shower.

“I’ll hold her,” Crocodile demanded, removing his hook to set on the counter. “You wash her.”

You couldn't be sure, but it seemed like Crocodile didn’t take off that hook in front of many people. 

Mihawk set you in his arms before starting the shower, bringing his dangerous fingers back to you as he washed you with care.

“Don't push our girl anymore tonight,” Crocodile growled as Mihawk’s fingers trailed lower.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he purred.

You might have fallen asleep as they took turns holding you to wash themselves, hardly noticing them dry your skin as you yawned, their deep voices holding a conversation that you couldn’t understand. 

What you could understand was their touch that never left you. The smooth, soothing motions of hands along your back. The warm press of lips against your temple, your shoulder. Those strong arms and hands carrying you to the huge bed. Warm bodies sliding in next to yours, surrounding you.

“Need anything else, sweetheart?”

“Hm,” you perked up, feeling so good, so relaxed.

Your eyes opened just enough for you to see the door, and the clown that sat on a chair beside it. 

“Anything,” you whined, writhing as the warmth of their skin made you shiver with pleasure. 

“She was very good, Crocodile,” Mihawk teased, nuzzling against your ear until you squirmed.

“Alright. What does my sweet girl want?”

There was just enough energy in your body to feel fear, but you were too tired to care. You probably should have asked for something else. 

Tilting your head back and forth to see their frightening faces, you hoped they wouldn’t be angry. Almost had hope that they might even listen. 

“I want you to be nicer to Buggy.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Thank you so much for joining me on this wild ride! That was the longest sex scene of all time 😅 This has been a blast to write with all of you screaming at me in the comments. Please don't murder me for the break, lol

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @caniseethefourthsword | @hey-august | @chaoticqueen33 | @destinationmars | @novakitten0901 | @h0n3y-l3m0n05 | @dorky-birdie | @szired | @pinejayy | @laws-wife-things

Part 10

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

Summary: It's finally time for your coffee date with Eddie, leading the two of you to fall even harder for each other.

Warnings: brief mention of drug dealing, Reader's grandma has dementia, character death

WC: 6.5k

Chapter 9/20

Divider credit to @saradika

The lime green numbers of the microwave clock reads 11:57, which means that Eddie will be here any minute. You drag your palms on the thighs of your boot-cut jeans, triple-checking that your perspiration hasn’t left a visible stain on the light-wash fabric.

“Okay, her lunch is in the fridge. And the number of the coffee shop is on the counter,” you tell Jess, pointing to the scrap of notebook paper in front of her. “If you need something, just call, and I’ll come home.”

Jess waves away your concern with a kind smile. She’d been pleading with you to get out there and date for ages now, and she was just glad you’d finally taken her advice. Though, you note wryly, she would not be happy if she knew who that date was.

“We’ll be fine,” she reassures you, bracing a hand on your shoulder. “If anything, we’ll need to check on you. Who is this mystery date, anyway?” 

“Just a guy,” you say, trying to remain light and casual while simultaneously fighting down the barrage of nerves in your stomach.

Jess takes a step back, wrinkling her nose and crossing her arms over her chest. “Oh, God, it’s not one of those creeps from a dating hotline, is it? Because I’ve never heard of one of those that didn’t end up on 48 Hours.”

“No, no, don’t worry,” you shake your head, spotting a piece of lint on your cable knit sweater and plucking it off carefully. You flick it off of your finger, silently berating yourself when you remember that you’ll have to vacuum it later. “It’s a guy from around here.”

Your friend wipes imaginary sweat from her brow as the buzzer rings. You race to the intercom to let him in before he can say anything, but your reflexes are too slow.

“Hey, it’s me.” The sound of his voice has your body pulsing, an eager grin tugging at your lips despite your intentions to keep calm. His slight rasp has you craving the sting of tobacco just to flatten your nerves.

You clear your throat before speaking. “Okay, I’ll be right down.” Grabbing your jacket from where you’ve haphazardly thrown it over the back of the couch, you’ve almost made it to the door, when—

“No. No.” You cringe at the way Jess’s words bite into your excitement. “Please tell me that your date is not Eddie Munson.” You can only offer her a sheepish grin, and she rolls her eyes. “Seriously?!”

You huff out a sigh, both impatient to go on the date and flustered at being caught. “Look, he’s changed. A lot.”

“Oh, you mean he stopped calling you a bitch and making shitty comments about your grandma?” Jess snorts. “How chivalrous.”

There’s no time to explain everything that’s happened, so you simply say, “I’ll be back in two hours,” before closing the door behind you, making sure that it latches before you start down the hallway. 

Eddie is waiting in the tiny lobby. He’s leaned up against the double doors, tapping one Reebok-clad foot and examining his fingernails anxiously. A memory crashes over you; one where his nails are painted jet black, though there hasn’t been any polish on them in some time. 

He smiles as soon as he spots you, standing up straighter and walking to meet you before you can get to the door. “Hey,” he says softly, letting his hand brush yours as he kisses your cheek. 

“Hey, yourself.” You want to kiss him back, but not on his cheek. Your lips yearn to crash against his once more; this time, anchored in belonging rather than lust. Instead, you manage a compliment. “You clean up nice.”

It’s the truth. His gray jeans are free of any holes, sometimes intentional but often the result of overwearing. The sleeves of his red sweater are pushed up slightly, exposing the litany of tattoos on his arms, and it occurs to you that you want to know each of their origins. 

“Can’t lie, Harris helped pick out my clothes today,” he admits. “He caught me trying to figure out what to wear and we finally agreed on this.” He sweeps a hand down his side to emphasize his point. 

“Was the ponytail his idea, too?” His curls are pulled back and rest at the nape of his neck. 

Eddie shakes his head with a laugh as his cheeks tinge pink. “Nah, that was all me.” He pauses, gaze briefly landing on your mouth before his eyes are drawn back to yours. “You’re…you’re beautiful.”

You try to shrug off the compliment, still caught off-guard by his kindness. You wonder when—or if—that unease will dissipate. “I think you’re just used to seeing me with Play-Doh stuck to my shirt,” you tease, but he doesn’t break his trance. 

“You’re always beautiful.” The sincerity of his statement clings to a silence that should be awkward, but is somehow comforting. After a few seconds, he clears his throat, lifting the fog of budding romance that clouds the lobby. “Let’s go get some coffee, yeah?”

Eddie takes your hand in his when you nod, leading you to his car and opening the passenger door for you. He sweeps his hand in the direction of the seat, and you giggle.

“Such a gentleman.”

He doesn’t divulge that Wayne reminded him to open doors for you when he’d come over to the apartment for dinner last night, or that the older man had slipped him a crumpled ten dollar bill and whispered, “get her something to eat, too,” punctuating his statement with a wink.

His left leg bounces as he starts the engine and he grates his teeth over his lower lip. He doesn’t even realize that he’s doing either of these things until you timidly rest a hand on his right knee and ask, “You okay?”

“Mhm,” he mumbles, gliding the gear shift from ‘park’ to ‘reverse’ as he backs out of his spot. “Just, uh, been a long time since I’ve gone on a date.” And never with someone so goddamn perfect, he wants to add, but he’s stopped by the fear of coming on too strong.

You graze your thumb over the gray denim and smile at him. “Well, you’re doing great so far.”

“Yeah?” Eddie grins at your reassurance, the soft dimples at the corners of his mouth deepening. 

“Yeah.”

He turns on the radio with a slight snap of his wrist, shifting the skull ring that wraps around his middle finger. A metal song comes on that you don’t recognize, drumbeats thumping through the old speakers. Eddie winces, nudging the volume down so he can hear himself speak over the impending guitar solo. “You can change it to something you like better.”

“Nah, this is fine,” you shake your head. “Kinda warming up to heavier music since someone gave me a Guns ‘N Roses tape.”

Eddie’s eyebrows brush the edge of his tousled bangs in surprise. “You really listen to it?”

“All the time,” you confirm truthfully. It’s quickly become one of your favorites; each time you play it, you’re reminded of Harris dressed as a miniature Axl Rose, drawing a picture of you and Eddie holding hands. Not to mention the way that Eddie adoringly gazed at you while you calmed his son down, quickly throwing together an art project and saving the day.

“How’s Grandma?” he asks now, pressing on the brake as he approaches a stop sign.

“Same as always. Her aid had to take her to the hospital the other day because she fell, and she’s been losing more language.” You try to play it off like it doesn’t bother you, but your heart pangs as you speak. When she was initially diagnosed, you’d known that she’d forget who people were, but you hadn’t realized that she would eventually forget how to talk. “Good news is, she hasn’t lost her appetite for Oreos. I have to keep the package you brought over hidden away so she doesn’t eat them all.”

Eddie laughs at this. “Told you; there’s nothing Oreos can’t fix.” He pulls into the cafe parking lot and snags the first available spot he sees. “I really am sorry that you have to see that, though. It can’t be easy.”

You keep your eyes trained on the dashboard, knowing that you’ll tear up if you catch a glance of his sympathetic expression. “‘S just par for the course with dementia, I guess.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything else–he isn’t sure what to say–as he kills the engine. He clicks off his seatbelt to scramble to your door, but it gets snagged in the crook of his elbow, yanking him back.

“Jesus, shit,” he grumbles, untangling himself from the trap he’d inadvertently created. “Don’t move; I’m not done being a gentleman.”

You put your hands up in surrender, watching as he walks to your side and opens the door. “Wow, that was such a surprising gesture,” you mock him, letting out a breathless scoff when he flips you the bird. “Giving me the middle finger kinda negates the whole ‘gentleman’ thing, dontcha think?”

Eddie pretends to consider this, crossing his arms over his chest while shifting his weight to one leg, bringing his hand to his freshly-shaved chin. “Mm, nope.” He helps you out of the seat, still not letting go of your hand once you’re standing next to his car. He holds it tighter, so you can feel every etch of the lifelines across his palm.

The mouth-watering scent of warm pastries and freshly brewed coffee swirls throughout the cafe, wafting to your nose as soon as you open the door. Or, more precisely, as soon as Eddie opens the door for you. You assume he’ll slip his fingers back through yours after you’re both inside, but he hesitates before letting his palm hover on the small of your back. You can barely feel the pads of his fingertips through your thick sweater, but as soon as you give him a smile, he allows himself to hold you a bit closer.

A chipper, twenty-something barista whose name tag reads Stephanie greets you as you approach the counter. “Hi! What can I get you folks?” 

Eddie nudges you to place your order, which you give with a polite smile. “Just a coffee with room for milk,” you tell her. 

You turn to Eddie so he can give his order, but he says softly, “Get something to eat, too.” He points to the display of baked goods before you, and you peer into the case. The prices are listed next to each item, and you furrow your brow at the $2 brownie. 

“Oh, s’okay,” you murmur, trying to play it off. The last thing you need is for Eddie to think you’re pitying him, which, okay, maybe you are. He just doesn’t have to know that. “You can get something, though.”

He shakes his head with a grin. “I’m not falling for that trick, Sweetheart.” It’s odd to hear the nickname without the prefix Ms. in front of it, or without a sneer in his voice. It’s kind, comforting, dare you even venture…a term of endearment? “You tell me you don’t want anything, and then you end up eating half of what I pick. Nope, you’re getting your own.”

“Fine, fine,” you roll your eyes playfully, eventually settling on a blueberry muffin. Eddie’s coffee order is the same as yours, but he gets a chocolate chunk cookie with his. He digs into his back pocket for his wallet, worn and frayed around the edges, and pulls out a ten-dollar bill, leaving a remaining dollar in the colorful jar marked ‘Tips’.

You grab the plated pastries and Eddie shuffles behind with the coffee mugs, gently placing them on the counter next to the silver thermoses and baskets of sugar packets. You pour a bit of milk into yours, watching in amusement as Eddie dumps some of the coffee into the trashcan, filling the mug with half & half and tearing open three Domino packets. 

“You want some coffee with that sugar bomb?” you gently tease, and he flicks your shoulder with a dramatic pout on his lips. 

“I’d rather this than whatever bitter concoction you’re drinking,” he retorts, taking an exaggerated sip from his mug and punctuating it with an aaaahhh. 

You roll your eyes. “You really should be grateful that I like bitter things. If I didn’t, then I wouldn’t like you.” Your response earns you another flick to the shoulder before Eddie brings the drinks to a table tucked away in the corner. 

You set the cookie in front of him and the muffin at your spot across from him, pulling a crumb from the side and popping it in your mouth. The sweetness of the pastry with the slightly sour berry is heaven on your tongue. 

“‘S good?” Eddie asks, smiling brightly when you nod your head. “Wanna try a bite of mine?” He breaks off a piece, and a smattering of crumbs fall to the table. You expect him to place the piece in your hand; instead, he leans over and brings it to your lips. His fingertips brush against them, parting them ever-so-slightly. An electric buzz hums down your spine, and you wonder if he feels it, too. 

You’re careful not to let your tongue graze his fingers as you take the chocolate-flecked dessert into your mouth. Eddie, however, is in no rush. He lingers, slowly moving the rough pads of his fingers across your soft lips. In doing so, he wipes away rogue remnants of the cookie he just fed you, though you strongly doubt that that was his intention. 

“Here, try mine.” You pinch off a piece of the muffin, a bit bigger than the piece you took for yourself, and bring it to him. His lips close around the very tips of your thumb and forefinger where you’re holding the bite of muffin. You feel the brief flicker of his tongue, gone before you can even process it, taking the muffin piece with it. 

“Not bad,” Eddie says with a grin. “I don’t usually like fruit in my dessert, but I’d make an exception for that. Could definitely use some more chocolate, though.” As if to illustrate his sentiment, he takes a comically large bite of his cookie. 

“One of these days, I’ll get you to eat a vegetable.” You mean it as a joke, a ribbing towards his poor eating habits, but it implies that you’ll stick around. That you care about him. You’re unclear about how he interpreted your statement, so you quickly change the subject before he can think about it. “I do have a question for you. Completely unrelated to the lack of nutrients in your diet.”

Eddie ignores the teasing jab and takes another bite of cookie. “Shoot.”

“The, uh, lock-picking kit,” you start, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your nerves calm. “Do you just keep them laying around?” You hate the idea of him using it to commit break-ins. If that was the truth, would he even admit it to you?

But Eddie just laughs, sipping his barely-coffee with a knowing smirk. “When Harris was about two, Wayne was watching him. He left for a second to grab the mail and the little stinker locked him out.”

“Out of the trailer?!” you ask incredulously, jaw dropping in shock.

“Out of the trailer,” Eddie confirms, shaking his head as though he still can’t believe it himself. “So, yeah. Ever since that happened, I’ve kept a lock-picking kit in my car.” He takes a deep breath, looking into your eyes with a gaze that makes your heart skip a beat. He drums his fingertips on the table as he says, “Tell me about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you,” Eddie accentuates his request with a quick poke of your hand before returning his grip to the mug handle. “Like, how did you end up being the one schlepping out to Hawkins to take care of Grandma?”

You shrug and bring the hot cup to your lips, letting the steam tickle your nose before you drink. “She and I were always really close, and teaching is a job that’s everywhere. It was just easier for me to pick up and move, I guess.”

Eddie pauses, nodding as he considers his next question. He rubs his palm back and forth on the side of his mug; there’s an air of nervousness around him. “Tell me about her. Grandma, I mean. Like, how she was before she got sick.”

“Where do I start?” It’s strange, you think, the way memories work. Sometimes it seems like the more Grandma forgets, the more you remember. You’ll just be lesson planning, or hurriedly making photocopies at work, or heating up leftovers in the microwave, and a memory will crash over you. Suddenly, you’re plucked from reality and transported to Benny’s Diner where you and she used to split a giant stack of pancakes. Or to the shoe store where she’d buy you a new pair of sneakers every August before the start of the new school year. “She just loved taking care of people. Cooking for them or cheering them up. She wasn’t the type of person to tell you to stop crying when you’d get upset, y’know? She’d sit there with you, rub your back, and let you get all the tears out.” You muster a wistful smile in a paltry attempt to hide the shame blooming in your chest. “It’s all so fucked, the way I talk about her like she’s gone when she’s still here.”

 “No.” Eddie’s voice is soft yet adamant. “I don’t think it’s fucked at all. Because, I dunno, it’s like she’s not here, in a way. Physically, yeah; but almost like…” He stops himself to avoid speaking out of turn and making a fool of himself.

“Like she’s a shell of who she used to be,” you finish for him, and relief floods his body when you understand the point he’s trying to make.

He nods. “Exactly.” He smooths his ponytail reflexively. “I think you’re a lot like her. How she was, anyway. The way you’re always looking out for people, like…let’s say…a bitter wannabe rockstar and his adorable yet mischievous son?”

“That’s the best compliment I’ve gotten in a long time.” It’s all you want, really–to spread joy and kindness to others, filling in gaps that have remained empty for so long that they seemingly go unnoticed. “Maybe ever, actually.”

Good, Eddie wants to say. He wants to whisper sweet nothings into your ear, each one kinder than the last, until you’re utterly flustered. Instead, he abruptly changes the subject and asks, “What made you wanna be a teacher?”

This is a much easier question for you to answer. “I just love seeing kids learn,” you beam. “Being able to do things they couldn’t do before; things they never thought they’d be able to do.”

He returns your smile easily; something about hearing you speak about your profession with such gratification has him buzzing.“Speaking of which,” he says, sneaking a mouthful of cookie between words, “I took Harris to the supermarket yesterday. And when we passed by the seafood section, he points to a sign, sounds out cuh-ahh-d, and goes, ‘that says cod!’”

“That’s incredible! Look at our little reader go!” You could jump out of your seat with excitement, held back only by the desire to not go overboard in your display of enthusiasm.

Eddie nods in agreement. “I was so proud, I damn near bought all of the candy in the store.” He cocks his head, amusement tugging the corners of his lips upwards. “Any idea where he learned how to read like that?”

“Not a clue.” You try to force a deadpan expression to reinforce the sarcasm in your remark, but your happiness betrays you in the form of a giggle. You clap a hand over your mouth, but he reaches out to pull it down, keeping your fingers clasped with his.

He strokes his thumb over your knuckles, watching the digit sweep back and forth for a moment. “You really are pretty, y’know.” The admission feels like a weight has been both removed from and added to his shoulders. Now you know how he feels, but now you know how he feels.

You, meanwhile, are far less fixated on his vulnerability and focus instead on his phrasing. The opportunity has presented itself so perfectly, and you have to seize it.

“Like a princess?” Your eyes gleam with playfulness.

“Wha–oh, Christ.” Eddie’s features shift from confusion to embarrassment over the span of a second. “What did that kid tell you?”

“Not a lot,” you say nonchalantly, taking an innocent swig of coffee. It’s cooled down considerably, but you’ve never been one to let a drop of caffeine go to waste. “Just that you think I’m ‘pretty like a princess.’”

Eddie uses his free hand to rub his eyes, swiping his thumb and forefinger across the lids. “What a little snitch.”

“It’s true, then?” You perch your chin in your hand, batting your eyelashes and reveling in his awkwardness. His cheeks flush red and a nervous chuckle splices the silence between you.

“To be fair,” he finally counters, trying to gather his thoughts before they scatter again, “I was asked if I thought you were pretty like a princess. I didn’t, like, come up with that on my own.”

You purse your lips into a pout, feigning disappointment. “So you don’t think I’m pretty like a princess?”

“N-No, you are!” He takes a deep breath and composes himself as he notices you trying to hold in your laughter. “All right, which would you prefer? We talking trading your fins for legs or losing your glass slipper at a ball?”

“Neither,” you chide, scratching at the base of your neck absentmindedly. “More like…bookworm who rescues people in need no matter what the personal cost and captures the heart of the town outcast.” You hope that he doesn’t take offense to that last part, as true as it might be.

“So…Belle?” Eddie chuckles when you raise your eyebrows at him. “What? I have a little ankle biter, I know Disney movies.”

“Harris would never bite your ankles,” you scoff, grinning at the mere thought of the littlest Munson gnawing at the bottom of his dad’s legs mid-tantrum. “He’d just lock you out of the house until he gets what he wants.”

Eddie lifts his half-drank cup of coffee. “I’ll drink to that,” he agrees, and you gently knock your mug into his. The porcelain rims make a slight clink as they touch, echoes muffled by the chipped edges.

“So,” you start, allowing yourself to swim in his deep brown eyes for a beautiful moment before you pivot the conversation. “Why did you move to Chicago? Why not, like, LA or New York?”

He shrugs, wiping the residue of a coffee mustache from his upper lip. “Guess I wanted to stay kinda close to home. In case something happened to Wayne, or the music thing didn’t work out, or,” he smiles wryly, “if I knocked up a groupie and needed help raising a newborn.” 

You press your lips together to stifle a giggle of your own, careful not to smudge whatever’s left of the lipstick you meticulously applied earlier. “So you moved back after Harris was born?”

“Yeah, when he was about…” Eddie silently does the math in his head, “a month old? Six weeks, maybe? When I realized that the whole ‘parenting’ thing is a hell of a lot harder than I thought. Especially doing it alone.” He drops his voice to a whisper as though he’s about to divulge a great secret. “Did you know that babies wake up, like, every half hour?”

“You don’t say?” Sarcasm is thickly woven into your tone. “Tell me more, Dr. Spock.”

Eddie snatches the muffin from your plate and takes an unprompted bite in retaliation. He chews like a cow on cud, slow and deliberate, relishing in his baked good thievery. You watch, unblinking, as a smirk crosses his face. “All right, smartass,” he snorts once he finally swallows, “not all of us specialize in taking care of kids.” He breaks off a hunk of his cookie and leaves it on your plate, a delicious peace offering that you gladly accept. “Anyway, Wayne let us stay with him until I found a place. Took a while to build up some funds, but I finally managed.”

“Where were you working?”

His face blanches at your question, and he finds himself inclined to bunch the paper napkin into a ball and shove it in his mouth to avoid answering. “Wh-What?”

“You said you had to build up some funds,” you explain, as though it were a convoluted construct. “Were you at the music store back then?”

“Oh, um. No.” Quicksand. Volcano eruption. A piano falling from the sky like in a classic Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote showdown. Eddie would’ve taken any of these options over giving you an answer. “I went back to my old high school gig of, uh, dealing.” His cheeks are beet red, the heat radiating from them is the only distraction from the shame curdling in his lungs. 

He keeps his eyes on the floor; to his surprise, your feet remain planted on the ground. You’re not leaving. “Oh.” Your voice draws him back to reality. “But you don’t…”

“Nope.” Eddie shakes his head. “I’m totally done with that scene. It’s just minimum wage, on-the-books bullshit for me now. I even pay taxes.” He laughs when you roll your eyes. “Although…the manager is transferring to another store soon.”

You slam your hands on the table in excitement, eyes alight with joy at this new opportunity for him. “Eddie, you have to apply!” Your eagerness fades when you notice the frown on his face. Shit, did he think you were telling him what to do? “I’m sorry if–”

“Nah, you’re good.” He bites his thumbnail without thinking, withdrawing it from between his front teeth when he sees you watching him. “‘S not like I haven’t considered it. Just feels like…if I do that, I’m officially giving up on the whole rockstar dream. Like I’m closing that chapter of my life.”

This time, you’re the one who holds onto him. His palm is pressed flat on the Formica table, and you bring your fingers underneath it to scoop his hand into yours. You give it a quick squeeze, watching a delicate smile develop across his lips. “Is that necessarily a bad thing, though? You’re not giving up on anything; you’re just shifting your priorities to make sure that Harris is always number one.” He nods halfheartedly, but you continue. “And you can always get back into music, find another band, or…maybe even make up with the Corroded Coffin guys?”

Eddie sighs, taking a strand of hair that’s fallen from its rubber band enclosure and tucking it behind his right ear. “Yeah. Maybe.” He doesn’t quite believe it; not after the terrible things he said to Jeff. Not after Gareth said he doesn’t look up to him anymore. A Corroded Coffin reunion seems about as likely as Wayne becoming a Radio City Rockette. He clears his throat and shifts his gaze back to you. “This is, uh, not first date conversation.”

You laugh at this, nodding in agreement. “No, it most certainly isn’t.” You use your free hand to take a final swig of coffee, now on the cooler side of lukewarm. “But I don’t think you and I have done anything conventionally, so it seems to be par for the course.”

Eddie shifts in his seat to lean in closer. He’s heard your response, but he’s not accepting it. Just because things began backwards didn’t mean they had to continue that way. “Tell me about you,” he says. “What do you like to do for fun? Like, hobbies and stuff.”

Your mind goes blank, as though you’ve never enjoyed any activity in your life. “Hmm,” you ponder, trying to remember a moment that wasn’t spent lesson planning or breaking up big arguments between small humans or taking care of an elderly woman who couldn’t stand you half the time. “I really love to cook,” you finally manage, thinking of the hours when you and Grandma stood in her kitchen, preparing meals or snacks or baked goods to munch on.

“No shit!” Eddie blurts out, eyes widening. “I really love to eat.”

“I’ll have to cook for you sometime,” you tell him. Surprisingly, you’re not shy when you say it. The image of you standing before the stove, stirring a pot on a burner or taking a tray of roasted vegetables from the oven while Eddie and Harris set the kitchen table, warms you from the inside out. You express your love by making meals for others, just like Grandma does. Did. “Your favorite food is olives, right?”

Eddie rolls his eyes playfully, crossing his arms over his chest and sitting back in his seat. He opens his legs slightly as he bites the inside of his lower lip to hide his smile. “I hate you sometimes, y’know that?”

“Yeah, I hate you, too.”

As soon as you and Eddie step out of the little cafe hand in hand, the bitter slap of winter is all-consuming. Snow flurries flutter to the ground, melting as soon as they touch the faded green grass. The coldness of the flakes stings the tip of your nose, and you wiggle it to try to ward off the impending numbness.

Eddie breaks the connection to dig out a crumpled pack of cigarettes from one pocket and his lighter from the other. He flicks the switch a few times before it finally catches as he shields the flame from the harsh winds. As soon as it does, he tucks the lighter away and immediately re-laces his left fingers with your right, taking a long drag and offering it out to you with a grin.

“Since you’re just a social smoker and don’t keep any on you,” he says with a twinkle in his eyes. You wonder how he could possibly know this until memories of that fateful night at the Hideout come roaring back to you. You and Eddie standing outside, making painfully awkward small talk while you figured out how to initiate a sexual encounter.

You inhale, letting the tobacco mingle with the taste of coffee and muffin already saturating your tongue, and pass the cigarette back to him. It’s a slow walk to his car; the two of you take your time as you breathe in smoke and each other’s closeness. Eddie lets you kill out the cigarette, eyes never leaving your body as you stub it into a nearby ashtray.

“I have a little confession to make,” he begins, quickly amending his statement when he catches the horrified expression on your face. “No, nothing bad; I swear!” He laughs lightly when you exhale, pressing your hand to your heart in relief. “Okay, the reason I took you out for coffee is because, well, I figured if things went well, I’d know your coffee order and could bring it to you at work or something? Like when I drop Harris off in the morning.”

The early December chill dissipates at his offer. Just the thought of Eddie memorizing your coffee order, handing you the styrofoam cup with a chaste kiss to your cheek so that none of your students or co-workers can catch you, fills you with a buzzing warmth. “I’d really like that.”

“Good,” Eddie nods, stopping at his parked car. You spot Harris’s carseat in the back, reminding you of the night Eddie drove you to his place after his show. The way he tried to hide the existence of his son from you, as though it would deter you from pursuing anything further. You can’t help but wonder how many women had turned him down after learning that he’s a dad. It has to be a decent amount, a pattern that developed, for him to become so jaded and guarded over it.

His calloused thumb ghosts over your cheek, though you can hardly feel it after being exposed to the stinging air. His gaze meets yours and he holds it, chocolate orbs fueling the fire within you.

“Feels weird asking to kiss you after we’ve already…” he trails off with a chuckle, tone laced with ambivalence. The last time he’d pressed his lips to yours, he didn’t want to stop, which scared the living shit out of him. And that was under the pretense of casual sex, not intended to go any farther than a one-night stand. But now? Now he was about to kiss you after a date, after telling you that you look pretty, after admitting that planned to get you coffee in the mornings.

If he kisses you now, there’s no going back.He’s sealing the deal, opening himself up to heartbreak, the potential to be crushed when the relationship comes to a screeching halt.

But, he reminds himself silently, it also means someone to watch movies with. Someone to buy flowers–or coffee–for. Someone to hold, to touch. Someone to share stories with, from the mundane tasks of the day to big, exciting news. Someone who I could love, who could love me and my boy.

“Eddie?” Your voice breaks into his mind, overrun with racing thoughts about the good, the bad, and the ugly of falling in–

You bring your lips to his, effectively silencing his inner monologue. His right hand stays on your face as his left grips your waist to return the kiss, deepening it with a gentle prod of his tongue. It’s wanting, but not hungry, like he’s savoring every last bite of a long-time craving. He wants this, he wants you, forever. He swears he’d never let you go if he didn’t have an oversugared, overtired four-year-old to attend to.

“You are…” he murmurs, nudging his nose with yours, but he has no idea how to end the sentence. Perfect? Mine? The one for me? “...the best.” It feels like a cop-out, but he doesn’t want to come on too strong. The irony is not lost on him that he had no problem spewing insults at you, but hesitates when it comes to affection.

“The best coffee date?” you tease, resting your hands on his chest. The sweater’s scratchy wool itches your palms, and you can’t imagine he’ll make it ten steps through the door before changing into one of his signature band tees.

“Yes. No. Yes.” He kisses your nose, an electric spark flying between you. “But also just…the best.” His fingers clasp around the door handle as he begrudgingly opens your door, not wanting the date to end. “Shall I take you home?”

No, you think, biting back your protest. No, take me to your place. Kiss me more, kiss me deeper, kiss me where the curve of my hips meets the plush of my thighs. Let me help you with your sweater; you’ll be so much more comfortable without it, Eddie.

“Okay,” you manage, sliding into your seat. He closes the door once you’re inside, jogging around to his side with a breathy chuckle.

“Gotta keep warm,” he says, turning the key in the ignition. The car rumbles to life, and as soon as he’s out of his parking spot, he takes your hand once again. Your intertwined fingers rest atop the gearshift for the entire drive to your building.

He turns off the car and faces you. “Let me walk you in.” Five simple words that ordinarily would preface sex; Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever uttered them in that order without at least the anticipation of getting laid. But there’s none of that now. He just wants to spend as much time with you as he can, before the spell is broken and he turns back into a pumpkin. Could the prince turn back into the Beast? he wonders wryly.

You cock your brow. “You sure about that? What if Grandma’s gotten herself into more trouble?”

“I’m willing to take that risk.” And he is. He’d risk everything, and for the first time in a long while, he’s not running from that feeling.

Luckily, there’s no crisis when you and Eddie arrive on your doorstep. You trade a few more giggle-laced kisses before you finally part.

The stars align on Monday morning, with Harris actually cooperating and getting ready with enough time for Eddie to stop off at the cafe to get your coffee. Okay, letting him have a Pop-Tart for breakfast instead of cereal definitely helped the situation, but it was a special occasion! And it’s not like he could tell Harris that he needed to pick up coffee for Ms. Sweetheart; the kid would be hiring caterers for a wedding if he knew. 

Eddie had wanted to call you on Sunday, maybe see if you wanted to go to the playground with him and Harris and get some ice cream afterwards, but he’d ultimately decided against it. Give it some time; don’t be too eager. 

It occurs to him that bringing you coffee is something that a boyfriend would do, and he hasn’t actually asked you to be his girlfriend yet. Do adults do that? Or is it just kinda implied? Shit, maybe I can take her out again this weekend and ask, just to be sure.

He gives Harris a hug and a kiss goodbye, careful not to spill any of the hot beverage as he crouches down to his height. Jitters course through his veins as he approaches your classroom, but he knows that the joy on your face–either from his kind gesture or the prospect of caffeine–will make it all worth it.

When he gets there, he only sees Will. He can’t stick around long; he doubts his boss will accept trying to impress my maybe-girlfriend as a valid excuse for tardiness.

“Hey, Byers,” Eddie calls out with a wave, pointing to the cup. “I’m just gonna leave this on her desk, if that’s cool.” He spots a black Sharpie and is about to use it to write Date night on Friday? when he catches Will’s expression. It’s a combination of confusion and sadness, with his brows pinching together as he walks over to Eddie. 

Will shoves his hands in his pants pockets. “Um, she’s not coming in today. Probably not for the rest of the week.”

“Is she okay?” Worry mars Eddie’s confidence, and the sense of dread only worsens when Will quietly ushers him to the corner of the room away from the kids. “Is she sick or something?” he adds once the students are out of earshot. Will looks up at Eddie, though the height gap has decreased considerably since he was a freshman and Eddie was working through his third senior year. His eyes are shiny with tears, and he blinks them back and clears his throat. “Eddie…” he says softly, “her grandma died last night.”

--

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[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 9

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: you and Felix go on an excursion and tensions are high while you wait for time to pass

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

You wake up in an entanglement of limbs. 

You feel it before you can see it, really. The warmth of Felix’s body on yours. Legs intertwined with legs, you currently lay with your head on his chest and his arms around your waist. Cracking your eyes open, you're met with a sleeping Felix, breathing slow and heavy, his breath warm on the top of your head. He looks so serene, almost like a child with the expressionless look on his face. 

Your heart flutters. You wish it didn't. 

You pry yourself out of the warmth of his embrace, not breathing as you wiggle out between his limbs in an attempt to not wake him. God forbid he wakes up and sees the position you’re in. What would he say? How would he react? Would it be awkward? You don’t want to find out. 

You make it to the bathroom, splashing water onto your face. You comb your fingers through your hair, doing your best to detangle it with what you've got. You take a deep breath, rolling your shoulders back. 

Last night, Yang Jungwon died right before your eyes. 

Where do you go from here? You can't go on pretending like things are normal anymore. They haven't been normal for a very long time, not since before you started dating Jungwon. You also know that running away isn’t exactly an option anymore… evident by the scars on your back inflicted by Chan that you had almost forgotten about. They accompany the many other bruises and scratches on your body now, so they aren’t quite out of place yet they serve as a not-so-gentle reminder of what to expect should you defy Chan. 

What now? You suppose you can lay low until you finally find an ample opportunity to escape, one that does not risk endangering you or your sister. Better would probably be to stay quiet and gather as much information as you can, to try to bargain your way out of the situation with Chan. Perhaps if you can one day find a way to leave on his terms you might be able to get what you want. You remember the night before, how Woojin implied that Chan could be in love with you… you feel the greasy diner food from the night before sit uneasily in your stomach, threatening to come back up. 

Sighing, you find yourself at a loss. When you crack open the bathroom door, you’re surprised to see Felix awake and sitting up in the bed. 

“Oh hey, you're up,” you say. You sit down next to him, hugging your knees to your chest. Felix yawns and rubs sleep from his eyes. “What time are we going back to the house?” You question.

“About that…” you blanch at his words, his voice deep and groggy from sleep. 

“You're kidding,” you say. “We're not going back?” 

“From my understanding, we have to wait for Lee Know to wake up,” he says, looking at his phone. “He’s in stable condition, so they expect it to be sometime today, but we still need the okay from Chris.” You sigh at the revelation. 

“So… what now?” 

“Breakfast?” He suggests. You purse your lips together, as if in thought. You still feel a little nauseous but food isn’t such a bad idea. Plus, you’re tired of feeling cooped up–getting out might not be the worst idea. 

You’re reminded of Felix telling you that Heeseung has plans to come after you next. You grimace. “Is it… okay to leave the motel? If the house isn’t safe, are you sure it’s okay to leave?” 

“You’ll be with me. You’ll be fine.” His words provide comfort, you suppose. And so, at eleven in the morning, you and Felix walk across the street to the diner. It’s where you assume he got your dinner last night and it’s bustling with life from the early morning lunch rush. In your matching pajamas, the two of you slide into the red and cream colored booth. You probably look comical but it feels… normal, almost. 

When the waitress comes up to your table she smells of cigarettes and sugar. She’s an older woman, curly blonde hair permed and framed around her face. Her makeup is a little bright, shades of periwinkle dabbled on her eyelids and lipstick blood red. Her name tag reads ‘Pam,’ and she reminds you of an old grandma, someone that might provide blunt comfort and real advice in a time of need.

“What can I get for the lovely couple?” She questions as she pulls out a notepad, voice deep and raspy with a southern drawl. 

“Oh we’re not–” 

“Can I get chocolate chip pancakes with a side of bacon?” Felix says, smiling sweetly at the waitress. “And a coffee, black.” 

“Of course. And for the lady?” 

You look at the menu. “Um, a waffle and orange juice. Thanks.” Felix takes your menu and hands it to the waitress. She smiles saccharine sweet and goes to the kitchen, leaving you and Felix alone. 

Neither of you speak. 

You fiddle with the silverware instead, staring out the window. 

The waitress arrives with your drinks. You take the opportunity to immediately start drinking it. Is this awkward? Why is it awkward? Is it because she implied you were a couple? Is it you making this awkward, or him? God, you hate your stupid brain and its stupid thoughts. 

You snap out of it when Felix takes a big sip of his drink and then makes a face as if he were disgusted. He takes another sip immediately which makes you laugh. 

“What?” 

“If it’s bad, why are you drinking it?” You ask with a smile. He brushes his hair back with his fingers, looking away. 

“It’s coffee. It’s not going to taste good.” 

“It’s supposed to,” you laugh. “It’s because you got a black coffee. Why won’t you add sugar or cream to it? That’ll help.”

“It still tastes bad. I don’t know. Nothing I’ve tried has ever helped.” He drinks his coffee again, following it up with that same face. You find it endearing. 

Breakfast goes by fairly normally after that. Felix laughs at you for drowning your waffles in maple syrup, ‘effectively ruining it,’ according to him. He shares some of his bacon with you, telling you that you need the protein if you want to bulk up. You laugh when he drops a piece of his pancake on the floor. It feels domestic. 

It distracts you. 

It distracts you from every horrible thing that has happened the past few days, and you delude yourself by thinking that maybe this is what life could be like from now on. What if Felix wasn’t in the mafia? What if things were different? Could this maybe, in some other reality, be a date? One where you didn’t have to worry about being a target, one where Lee Heeseung didn’t have an overwhelming grudge to have you dead or alive? You wish that it was over. Yang Jungwon is dead yet he still has a deadly grasp around your throat. You swallow thickly and decide you want to change the subject. 

“I want to see my sister,” you say. Felix nods at you solemnly, not in agreement but more in pity. He feels bad for you. 

“I’m sorry,” he says finally. You sigh. 

“Can’t you take me to her? Let me talk to her? Let her know that I’m safe?” 

“I can’t do that,” he replies softly. 

“Why?” 

“It’s not safe. I’m sure Jungwon knew where your sister lives? What if Heeseung is keeping an eye on her now? Contacting her could be a risk,” he explains. “It’s against Chris’ orders.” 

“Do you just blindly follow his orders? Do you know how to think for yourself?” you ask before you can help yourself. You clench your fists and unclench them, exhaling to keep the irritation at bay. “You don’t have to tell Chan,” you reason with him. “You can just take me. I won’t tell him.” 

He tongues the inside of his cheek. “It’s like you’re not even listening to me. I’m not blindly following his orders, but there’s a reason why we do things. There’s protocol to follow. Heeseung probably has careful eyes on her, and contacting her could put you both in danger.” 

“That’s more of a reason for me to talk to her!” you say. “She could be in danger. What if Heeseung–”

“She's fine,” he interrupts. 

“How do you know? There's no way.” 

“Listen, we’re keeping a careful eye on her–” 

“Then I don't understand why I shouldn't be allowed to talk to her–” 

“Because I'm not going to put you in danger again!” He takes a deep breath, calming himself. 

“What?” 

“The gala was my fault, I should've made sure you were by my side. It was… you were hurt because of me. I’m not going to let you get hurt again. End of discussion.” 

Felix pays the bill. You don’t say anything. You don’t know what you would say, even. On the walk back to the motel, he talks again. 

“I’m sorry about your sister. I really am.” 

“S’fine.” You don’t look at him. “I don’t blame you for the gala, by the way.” 

“You should.” 

“I don’t.” Finally, you smile at him. He gives you a weak smile back. 

It’s past noon once you get back to your room. You slump in your bed, unsure of what else to do. Closing your eyes, you let yourself stretch lazily, basking in the sunlight that shines through your window not unlike that of a cat. After a few minutes, you hear grunting. Cracking open your eyes, you investigate. 

Felix is sitting on the floor near the end of the bed doing sit-ups. You look at him, incredulous. 

“Are you seriously working out right now?” You ask. It does seem a little bit ridiculous, after all. 

“Just because we’re not at a gym doesn’t mean that we can’t train,” he says with uneven breath. “Your enemy isn’t going to wait for you just because you’re in hiding.” He moves fast without breaking a sweat, and it’s a sight to behold. You could watch him do this all day. You realize you’ve been staring and so you clear your throat. 

“Can you help me too? Can we spar?” You ask. You decide that he is right, and there is no time like the present to become stronger. 

And so, for about thirty minutes you muck about the hotel room. Felix shows you how to properly form a fist, cautious of your still-injured hand. He teaches you some self-defense techniques, going into a lecture about the weakest areas of the body to target if in a bad situation. You listen intently and practice with your full-attention, really taking his words to heart. You’re a good student, he says. You feel satisfied by the end of your session now that you’ve finally practiced real techniques and not just focused on strength or cardio, and you’re both sweaty and out of breath before you know it. 

“You can shower first this time,” you say. “I had first dibs last night.” He nods his head and heads to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. You try not to think about how good he looked with sweat dripping down his face and wonder if that’s what he would look like when he–

Shaking your head, you flop onto the bed, lazily flipping through the television channels. Nothing really peaks your interest. Until you see something on the table that gleams in the light and makes your heart beat right out of your chest. 

Felix’s phone. 

He left it right there on the table while he was gone. Easily accessible. 

You jump to your feet before you can think, snatching the device and holding it in your hands. You could do it while he’s in the shower; call your sister. If he finds out after the fact, whatever, you think. It’ll be worth it to get the confirmation that she’s safe. 

You slide the phone up. Of course, it’s password protected. You could have guessed that. You double-click the power button two times, allowing yourself to dial an emergency number. Taking a deep breath, you start to dial her number when the shower stops.

Shit. 

Shit. 

Your heart starts beating rapidly, looking to the door. Can you make it out in time? Felix is definitely faster and he would catch you. That would be bad. You need to hide the phone, and quick. Bolting, you lift up the mattress and stick the phone in between the mattress and bedframe. As the door opens, you jump onto the bed, looking at Felix and smiling. 

“Why do you look like a deer caught in headlights?” He laughs. You laugh with him, standing up. 

“No reason, LOL.” You just said LOL out loud. Calm down, Y/N. “I’m going to take a shower now!” You start to walk past him to the bathroom door when you feel a tug at your wrist, flipping you around to face him. Your eyes go wide when you see the serious look on Felix’s face. 

“Tell me where it is.” 

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you chuckle, deciding that maybe playing dumb is the best option. You both know how stupid you’re being right now, though. 

“I’ll give you one chance to stop acting dumb and tell me where it is, Y/N. Seriously,” he says. “I was gone for five minutes. Don’t act like you don’t know where my phone is.” 

“I… I don’t know. Seriously, let me go,” you say. You sound a little less persuasive this time. He’s slowly chipping away at your façade and it’s apparent. 

Gulping, you yank yourself out of his grasp and start walking to the bathroom again. In an instant, he pushes you up against the wall, arms pinned above your head. You let out a small gasp at the action, now completely at his disposal. You think about the self-defense techniques that he just taught you, but you know that you couldn’t bring yourself to poke him in the eyes or knee him in the groin… and you wouldn’t need to, either way. You’re not in any danger. 

“Please,” he says. His voice is soft, head tilted downward, unable to look you in the eye. You gulp. 

You’re at a stalemate. You both know that you won’t give him the phone, your only point of communication with your sister, and you both know that he won’t do anything to hurt you. 

“Felix,” you say, your voice just a whisper. When he releases your hands from above your head, they make their way to his shoulders and stay there. He finally looks up at you, and you feel like you can’t breathe. 

“Please,” he says again. This time you’re unsure what he’s asking for. Not when your body is finding itself impossibly closer to his, not when his eyes are on your lips and your heart is beating out of your chest. 

“We shouldn’t,” you say, because it’s true. 

“We absolutely shouldn’t,” he agrees. You feel his warm breath on yours. His hand cups the back of your head and your lips part. You barely feel the ghost of his lips on yours… 

Then the phone rings. 

You aren’t sure who moves faster. Your heart is beating faster than maybe ever as you duck under his outstretched arm, completely evading his attempt to grab you. You dive for the mattress, successful in getting the phone. 

An outstretched leg trips you, but you don’t fall. You make it to the door, in fact. You even touch the handle. 

It’s over sooner than it started. 

Your arm twists behind your back, the one holding the phone, though you don’t let it go. It’s almost embarrassing how easily he maneuvers you so that your chest is pressed up against the mattress, one hand on your back pushing you down. Neither of you miss the small whimper that comes out of your mouth. Neither of you miss the hardening bulge against your ass. 

When Felix plucks the phone from your hand, you almost expect him to let you go immediately. He doesn’t. He picks up the phone instead and you crane your neck to try to see his face, though you are unsuccessful. 

“Hyunjin,” he greets. 

You wish you could hear the muffled voice on the other end of the phone. You only hear bits and pieces. You try to wriggle from his strong single-handed grasp but you only feel his fingers tighten around your skin, not in an attempt to harm you but in an attempt to warn. You’re sick of doing what you’re told, though, so you grind your hips back against his cock purposefully. 

“Don’t be a brat,” he whispers to you, shoving the receiver of the phone into his chest so Hyunjin won’t hear him on the other end. You do it once more and he lets you–when you both know he could easily still your movements. You don’t miss the shaky breath he lets out at your actions, but suddenly Felix says something in affirmation to Hyunjin and hangs up the phone. 

He finally releases his grasp on your arms and you sit up, making eye contact with him. He still looks completely composed, but a slight blush has dusted over his features. 

You smile at him. 

“Cute,” he says, poking the inside of his cheek with tongue. “You think you’re very cute.” 

You say nothing. 

“We… gotta go. We gotta go back to the house now. Minho has woken up. It’s uh… it’s safe now.” 

You do let out a sigh of relief at that. 

We almost kissed, you want to say. I feel something towards you that I probably shouldn’t, and I know you feel something towards me. 

The two of you stare for a moment, letting the silence punctuate the room. Your heart pounds heavily against your ribcage. 

“Let’s get going, shall we?” you say. 

Neither of you speak on the ride back to the house but the silence is welcomed. You stare dreamily out the window and for some reason, the future doesn’t seem as bleak as it did earlier. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

taglist: @shuporanporang ; @purp13st4r ; @eurydiceofterabithia ; @heartsbyandra ; @thicccurls ;

@rylea08 ; @the-sweetest-rose ; @oddracha ; @kapelover ; @goldenmellow ;

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@skzskzskzskzskzskzskzzzz ; @k-keya ; @moonlight-sunrise-channie ; @estella-novella

[penkura]

last forever [13/13]

Summary: Zoro only offered to marry you to keep you out of an arranged marriage with a man much older than you. You agreed without realizing how happy you would both become and the family you would create together.

Pairing: Zoro x Fem!reader, mentioned Sanami

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy and having a baby, that's all

Note: I didn't initially plan this. I was going to stop this fic at twelve chapters, but I felt like ch.12 was getting to be way too long so I broke it up and put the epilogue at the end of thsi one. Do not be surprised if I ever come back to this fanfic universe for one-shots or drabbles. This is shorter than I expected, but I'm happy with how it turned out, thanks for reading this fanfic, I hope you've all enjoyed it! :)

The latter bit is set ten years after chapter 12, Zoro is 31 and Reader is 30.

Taglist:

@misfits1a | @alucardsdaddyissues | @louweasleymalfoy | @fluffybunnyu | @yerrimm09 | @eyes-ofhell | @emmaiscool22 | @xenop0p | @hank88999

[Ch. 1] ● [Ch. 2] ● [Ch. 3] ● [Ch. 4] ● [Ch. 5] ● [Ch. 6] ● [Ch. 7] ● [Ch. 8] ● [Ch. 9] ● [Ch. 10] ● [Ch. 11] ● [Ch. 12]

Your morning is quiet, despite Nami and Robin sharing knowing looks when you and Zoro entered the galley together for breakfast. Nami swears you're glowing and it grosses her out for a moment when she makes the suggestion to Robin who laughs, and says the three of you will need to have a girls night later to talk. No one asked where two had disappeared to the night before, it seemed like none of them had noticed, which you were grateful for. It kept you and Zoro from having to answer any awkward questions for the time being.

Zoro didn't notice or care, if someone had asked he would've told them, but still keep you from feeling embarrassed or anything, this is all still new to both of you of course. Breakfast goes by without anyone bringing anything up, even as Sanji gives you a smile that you return, discreetly showing him your ring and confirming that he was right, everything turned out okay so far.

Most of your day is spent doing the normal things you’ve always done, the Sunny is docked at an island for a restock, you choose to go into town with Robin and Jinbei, Zoro tried to go along but Nami pulls him back, telling you to go ahead while she takes your husband for help with other things. You don’t question it only because that’s completely normal, you don’t even question Robin in town when she tries to convince you to buy a pretty white dress you seem to be staring at. You try it on but don’t buy it, there’s no reason to.

“Are you sure, [Y/N]? It’d look lovely on you, I’m sure Zoro would think so too.”

“Nah, I don’t need it,” you laugh a bit as you go to look at something else that’s caught your eye, “Zoro doesn’t care what I wear anyway.”

“Mm…if you say so.”

You swear there’s something Robin isn’t telling you, even as you both try of different clothes and buy a few items, deciding you’ll bring Nami by later too, there’s plenty here she’ll like.

You do find it odd when Jinbei tries to get you to purchase a flower crown or a small bouquet of your favorite flowers for yourself, denying again that you really don’t need them. You’re not sure if you were imagining it or not, but you think the two share a knowing look with slight smiles as you head back to Sunny a while later.

When you make it back and see almost none of your crewmates around, you start to get suspicious something else is going on, especially seeing the way the ship deck is decorated to almost resemble a wedding, though with its own Straw Hat character, and Zoro waiting for you.

Face red, in a suit (that fits this time), and a bouquet of your favorite flower surrounded by daisies, heliotrope, and aster.

It dons on you immediately what Jinbei and Robin were doing, they were trying to get you ready for an impromptu marriage ceremony, but you didn’t catch on until now, you feel kind of stupid. Of course the white dress and small bouquet make sense now, even though Zoro hasn’t said anything. He doesn’t even notice you’re there at first, not until you say his name and he finally looks at you.

“Hey…you’re back.”

“What,” You’re trying hard not to cry but you can’t fight the smile that’s starting to creep onto your face as Zoro hands the flowers over to you, still nervous about this and maybe embarrassed over it, “What’s this about…?”

He’s quite for a moment, while you look over the flowers, a bright and happy look on your face. You know he’s had help with this, it’s what he and Nami were probably out buying while the others set things up.

“When we got married, legally, it wasn’t really a wedding,” scratching the back of his head, Zoro sighs just a bit before taking your hand and getting on one knee in front of you, returning the smile you’re giving him, “I know I was a stubborn ass about this for a long time, but you already know my thoughts on this, on us now…so I want to give you as real a wedding as I can. One you deserve.”

You have to stop yourself from laughing when it takes Zoro a minute to dig through the pockets he’s not used to find an engagement ring, one you don’t need but you figure Nami made him buy it just so you had one, even with your wedding band already on your hand.

“We’ve already got rings, and this time real witnesses,” you both can hear Luffy not so quietly asking Sanji for food before he's hushed and told to wait, everyone watching from the various places they’re hiding in, “Luffy’s ready to say whatever he needs to for us to be considered married on this crew, but I still have to ask you. So…will you marry me, for real this time, [Y/N]?”

“Of course, Zoro!” It’s not even something you can pretend to think about, not after everything you’ve gone through now. You throw your arms around him and Zoro hugs you close, there’s obvious relief like he was worried you’d changed your mind overnight while he tells you he loves you.

“Heyyy, can we do the ceremony now and eat?!”

“You idiot, she’s got to get dressed first!”

“Sanji made a great cake, it’s really sweet!”

“We were all glad when you went into town with Robin and Jinbei, we probably wouldn’t have gotten this all done if you hadn’t!”

“This is super great for both of you!”

“Yohohoho, I’ll get ready to play the wedding march then!”

“Mosshead, you better treat her right!”

“It’s wonderful to see you both happy now!”

“I may not have the full details of your circumstances, but congratulations to you both!”

You barely listen to your crewmates, your main focus being on Zoro and how this was pulled off so quickly, but you don’t bother to ask any questions, kissing your husband briefly.

“I suppose I should go get ready!”

“Yeah,” Zoro gives you a slight smirk before kissing your forehead, “I’ll be here, wife.”

Robin and Nami rush you off to your shared room to get you dressed, Robin having been sneaky and showing she’d purchased the dress she told you to buy, along with a small bouquet of flowers for you to carry. It’s nothing fancy, but that works perfectly with your relationship and how you’ve come together with Zoro.

Once they’ve got you ready the two go back to the deck to make sure everything and everyone is situated, sending Sanji after you a bit later, he’s agreed to be the one to give you away essentially, though you stop him just ad you’re about to head to the deck, he gives you a concerned look.

“Sanji, do you…do you think Zoro and I will last forever?”

Sanji takes a breath, before smiling and taking your hand as he lets it out.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a couple more destined to last than you two. Besides, I don’t think the mosshead is willing to wear a suit for just anybody.”

You laugh and agree, telling Sanji you’re ready before he leads you out to the deck.

It’s not a very long or formal ceremony, Luffy stumbles a few times trying to remember what he needs to say, he even gets choked up a few times when he thinks about how he’s seen you and Zoro go from a marriage born of convenience to now being in love and properly married. It almost gets to you as well, but you keep all your tears back, just a few slipping g out when Luffy tells Zoro to hurry up and kiss you which makes you laugh. You know Zoro hates public displays of affection, but he’s willing to look past it for you, only you he’d justify. After that Luffy shouts for the party to start, you and Zoro laughing together just a bit while he holds you close.

“Thanks for not giving up on me, wife.”

“Hmm, thanks for saving me, husband.”

Chopper is right, the cake Sanji made is sweet, you’re surprised Zoro even has some, that he mostly stays away from alcohol except when you bring him a drink later on. It prompts him to pull you to his lap, pressing a kiss to your cheek to make you giggle.

“What’s this for?”

“Nothing,” he sighs a bit, holding you closer and laying his forehead on your shoulder, “Just glad you’re my wife is all.”

“Forever, right?”

“Forever. No matter what happens.”

Nami and Sanji watch you two from the side, giving each other looks that tell more than anything they know you’ll make it. They’ve both watched you ever since they each joined, seen how Zoro treats you and how much you’ve come to love each other. Even when Luffy comes over and drags you away from your real, permanent husband to dance with your captain, the same look Sanji swore to you he’s always seen on Zoro’s face. Soft and loving, he just watches you while you and Luffy giggle together.

When everyone starts to settle down, you’re surprised by Chisa returning to you after being gone since you arrived in Wano. She stops in front of you with two letters, one you know is from Elias and the other from your parents, finally. You’re not sure what to think, even when Zoro wraps his arms around you and sets his chin on your shoulder.

“Well?”

Pursing your lips, you shrug, before tearing up the letter still in the envelope causing Zoro roll tighten his hold on you. For a minute you don’t say anything, before you sigh and lean back against him with a smile.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t want care about what they have to say…I only care about you.”

“Hmm,” Zoro kisses tour cheek which makes you giggle before you do the same to him, “That’s my wife, I’m proud of you.”

“Love you, Zoro.”

“Yeah…I love you too.”

You two are going to last forever.

+!+

~10 years later~

You have a newborn baby girl to care for now, literally minutes old as she lays next to you and cries, unhappy about her new surroundings. It’s the middle of winter and the only people you’re allowing around her at the moment are the midwives of Shimotsuki Village that had come to help you deliver your baby in the middle of the day. Every one of them praises you for doing so well, but all you care about is your daughter and Zoro getting to see her, to meet her face to face. He’d been more anxious about it as you got closer to your due date, neither of you knowing if you’d have a boy or girl until the moment you gave birth, and now you have her!

She’s perfectly chubby, her little hands trying to grasp at the air while she wails and kicks her feet at the same time, even as you take hold of one of her hands. You want to laugh seeing her hair is just a slightly darker shade of green than Zoro’s, but smile instead as you calm her down.

“Shh, shh, baby girl, everything’s okay. I’m here, sweetheart. Your daddy’s on his way.”

It’s not even five minutes later you hear Nami yelling outside your door about how someone could miss this, while Sanji starts to swoon at her for being so protective of you but asking her to calm down, stress isn’t good for her or their own baby either. You hear Luffy laugh a bit himself, saying something you can’t understand before Usopp and Robin suggest they all leave you alone, as the door to your room opens and you’re so glad to see who’s finally there.

“Zoro~”

“I’m sorry I missed it, I was asking master something,” Zoro takes your hand you reached for him with, kissing your forehead before he sits beside you, looking at your baby with nothing but pride and love on his face, “We…we have a baby…”

“We have a daughter, Zoro.”

“She’s perfect. Just like her mama.”

Rolling your eyes, you just watch for a few minutes while Zoro takes in the fact you have a daughter to raise now. Honestly, you had been expecting to have a boy, and Zoro never told you what he thought you might have, he said it didn’t matter because it was your child, you made this baby together, he’d love them no matter what. But seeing him gently stroke her hair and let her hold onto his finger, you swear you’re falling in love with him all over again.

“Did you ask your master what we talked about?”

Zoro doesn’t hear you at first, he’s too focused on your daughter and watching her settle down, starting to sleep, before he realizes you spoke to him and asks you to repeat your question. When you do so, he nods, looking back to your daughter.

“Well?”

“He said nothing would make him happier…”

Nodding, you sigh in content when Zoro kisses your forehead again, before doing the same to your daughter.

“Welcome to the world, Kuina.”

You plan to give your daughter everything you never had and more, all the love in the world and no expectations to marry rich unless she decides to. Watching Zoro with her the rest of the day makes you realize this was all you ever wanted.

To love someone and be loved the same, and give that love to your own child forever.

[paulyenvol6]

Byka Atroksia (Chapter 9)

Contains: fluff, possessiveness, mentions of arranged marriage, inappropriate relationship between uncle and niece

Wordcount: ~4.08k

Masterlist of this story

After you had finished your breakfast you went with Rhaenyra to help decorate the garden. You put flowers on the tables and in the trees and pulled up the Targaryen banners. A little later you found yourselves in the keep again and then at around noon the King, Rhaenyra and you entered the garden and the feast began.

There was music playing, the children excitedly running around and the table seemed to almost crash under the weight of the delicious food. You sat between Rhaenyra and to your opposite was Daemon who had crossed his legs relaxed. He looked around bored and watched the feast while holding a cup of wine in his hand.

Then noon passed, the congratulations had been spoken and your father, who sat next to Rhaenyra suddenly leaned forwards to look at you.

"Daughter. There is something I wish to discuss with you." His voice wasn’t very loud which told you that it wasn’t something for everyone’s ears. Only your sister, Daemon, the hand of the King, Laena, and a few other lord of the small council watched and listened to him.

"What is it, father?" He cleared his throat and looked joyful but a little nervous at the same time.

"Well. I… have news to you. It is… You know how your sister told you earlier that Lord Cordin Stark of Winterfell will attend the feast." His eyes wandered to a tall, strong man who sat at the other end of the table, deeply invested in a conversation with your greatuncle Jaerion. You nodded and Viserys eyes looked at you again.

"Well, he… He came here to discuss something with me as well. We spoke yesterday and… we decided to wed you to his eldest son Jorlan Stark. Heir to Winterfell."

You were speechless and you could only stare at your father. Everyone except the King’s Hand, Laena and Lord Barler, master of laws seemed to be surprised by these news and your sister’s jaw even dropped.

"What?", she asked with an open mouth.

"Rhaenyra, please.", your father spoke and smiled but he looked rather insecure.

"W-What?", you stuttered as well and Viserys took your hand.

"He’s a good match, daughter. A noble man from a noble house. It will be a good thing to finally unite the north and the crown by marriage. You will be the Lady of Winterfell someday, my dear."

Your eyes instinctively fluttered to Daemon and you could see that he looked more serious now. Dangerous, even and you could see that his jaw was tense. You quickly put your attention on your father again.

"B-But it’s so far away. I-I don’t know, I – "

You didn’t know what to say. Of course you didn’t want to marry a strange boy you had never seen before and move to the north, where you didn’t know anyone. The climate was uncommon to you, as well as the nature and the people of the north.

You looked at Daemon again. Just for a second. You wanted him to do something, say something. Tell your father no, you couldn’t marry him. It wouldn’t be a good match and you should remain in King’s Landing. With him.

Your hands were shaking and you could still feel the gaze of almost every person around you on you.

"Vhaela.", your father spoke softly. "You’ll understand soon that this is a good thing. Jorlan Stark is a honourable and kind man. He will protect you and keep you safe. If I didn’t know him to be a good man I wouldn’t agree to this betrothal."

You just sat there. Staring at the food on your plate while you could feel Rhaenyra caress your back. Your father came a little closer.

"I know the thought of leaving the city is hard and I assure you it is hard for me too but I don’t think there could be someone more suitable, Vhaela. Just wait until you have met him to make a judgement."

You heard his words even though they sounded a little muffled and his face was blurred before your eyes. You didn’t want to meet him. You didn’t want to find out if he was suitable for you. You wanted… Daemon perhaps? You didn’t even know what you wanted, you just knew your head was burning and the different smells of all this food made you feel sick.

"This might be a little much right now, daughter. You should sleep on it and in the morrow everything will seem different. Better, hopefully." Your father looked around and chuckled forcedly. "Let’s continue to eat now, Deston? Bring the cake please!"

It took you some time to get your gaze off the ice cream that was by now only a puddle. Rhaenyra still comforted you by stroking your back and hair and you just tried not to let the tears fall down. In the corner of your eye you could see Daemon watch the cup in his hand and then you but you couldn’t look at him now. It took all your power to get through the rest of the feast and the your sister brought you back to the keep.

The king had soothingly caressed your shoulder and assured you everything would be fine but you couldn’t believe it would. Not only didn’t you want to move in the north to Winterfell and leave your sister, your father, your uncle and all your other relatives behind and then… well there was Daemon. And, you hadn’t even thought about that yet, but you were not a maiden anymore. What if your husband would notice and question your virtue. You exhaled loudly and tried to calm your fastened heartbeat.

"Shh, sister.", Rhaenyra whispered while taking you all the stairs up to your chambers.

"What if he’s horrible?", you whimpered and your sister shook her head. "Father said he knows he’s a good man."

"But one can cover up his true nature. Perhaps he acted like a saint in front of father but in reality he – "

"Don’t, Vhaela.", Rhaenyra whispered and caressed the back of your hand. "This won’t bring you any good. Wait until you get to know him. If he turns out to be a monster… I’ll kill him for you." Even though you didn’t feel like it you couldn’t help but laugh at her words. Rhaenyra smirked and then you stood in front of the door to your chambers.

"Relax now, little sister. That was a lot to take so you need some time." You nodded with a big lump in your throat. "Thank you, Rhae." She smiled and then closed the door behind you.

~~~~~~~~~~

All afternoon you felt like you were rotting in your bed. At first you had laid on your back, trying to bring some order to your thoughts but that hadn’t worked. There was just too much scrambling your brain and so after some time you had given up and tried to get some sleep. But because it was still early in the evening you hadn’t been able to fall asleep so you watched the sun getting closer and closer to the earth.

At some point your eyes were hurting and so you had turned to your side to stare at your beside table. You had counted the annual rings in the woods and the seconds and minutes had passed slowly. You wanted, no needed Daemon in your presence. You needed to see him, talk to him, tell him that you didn’t want to marry Jorlan Stark and beg him to do something. You wanted to feel safe with him next to you and just for a moment think that everything would be fine and Daemon would find a solution to all of your problems. Where was he and why couldn’t he come and see you for a little while? You felt that you were a little unfair but you just craved seeing him even if it only was for a short time.

One time, it had knocked and you had jumped in your bed. The disappointment was immense when it had only been your handmaiden who had brought you a tea.

You now laid on your stomach with the side of your face pressed in the pillow. Maybe you should simply suffocate, you thought. You fingers pulled at some loose yarns of your big wool blanket that was way too warm for these temperatures but the blanket gave you some kind of comfort. Then there was a knock on your door and you mumbled.

"Come." Had they heard you? Yes, you heard the door open and someone approach you but you couldn’t see who it was because your face was turned away from the door and you were too lazy to lift your head. The steps stopped and you waited for a word.

"Byka atroksia." If you weren’t too powerless, you would’ve widened your eyes. Now you could only feel tears gathering in your eyes and you slowly turned so you laid on your back.

"Daemon.", you said weakly and the knowledge that he had come almost made all those tears roll down your face. But you didn’t allow them to because you didn’t want to cry now. Daemon looked fierce, cold almost but you didn’t know if his anger was actually your fault. Seeing him gave you new energy for some reason and suddenly you couldn’t lay in bed anymore.

You got off the bed, moved your hair behind your ears and stood in front of Daemon. For a moment you only looked at each other and then you started to speak.

"I don’t want to marry some Stark Prince and move to Winterfell, uncle." Your voice sounded a little thin but him being there made you feel like fire was flooding your veins. Daemon moved closer to you and his hands made contact with the sides of your face. He looked at you intensely and made sure your eyes were fixed on him.

"You.", he said quietly but very clearly. "Are mine, little owl. And I’m not going to let some weak Stark cunt take away from me what’s mine."

His fingers held you tigthly as if he wanted to support his words by it and you laid your hands on his wrists.

"And I don’t want to be taken away.", you whispered.

"I will not let him. I’d rather kill him and everyone that attempts to step in my way." You smiled softly but knew you had to keep a clear head now. As much as you liked to hear him say that he didn’t want this betrothal as well, it wasn’t a realistic or good solution to simply kill everyone who asked for your hand.

"But… What are we gonna do? If my father wants me to marry him, I can’t just refuse him and you know you can’t just kill him.", you chuckled desperately.

"Of course I can. Or do you think he’d defeat me in a fight?", Daemon whispered darkly and your hand reached out to touch his face.

"Daemon, please. I’ll have to marry some day. If Jorlan Stark turns out to magically drown somewhere or choke on something, my father would find me another match."

Your uncle didn’t answer you but just ran his thumb over your soft skin as if wanted to make sure you were actually there. You looked at him with sad eyes but then hopefully.

"But marriage is only a political arrangement. You told me this so often when I was young. Perhaps this doesn’t mean, that…. That I’ll never see you again."

You almost shrieked in surprise when Daemon suddenly forcefully grabbed your neck and pushed you against the wall. His hand wasn’t very tight around your throat and you could still breathe properly but he roughly pressed you against the wall and you felt fear creeping up on you. He towered over you and his face got close to yours. His eyes glowed with rage and he hissed his next words.

"I am NOT going to be your whore." You looked at him with big eyes and felt your hands shivering.

"I’m not gonna be your whore to warm your bed whenever your cunt of a husband is out hunting somewhere because he prefers to fuck wolves over you. Do you understand me?"

You quickly nodded and didn’t break eye contact with him.

"Yes. Yes, I understand." He suddenly let go of you and took a step back to walk around in your room thinking. You tried to collect yourself and inhaled deeply as you had just realized you had hold your breath the last seconds. You put your hand on your stomach feeling the air entering your body and then looked at Daemon again. He was still walking around and you just wanted him to hold you. Whisper comforting things against your hair. Your uncle didn’t look at you though but scratched his forehead, his eyes still spitting fire.

"Wed me, Daemon." He turned around suddenly and observed you with small eyes.

"What?" You walked towards him.

"Take me as your wife. It would solve all of our problems. I wouldn’t have to marry Jorlan Stark and be sent away to live at Winterfell. And no one could ever question my virtue and honor if I married you. And we wouldn’t have to keep a secret from Rhaenyra, my father and any other person here anymore."

"No.", Daemon plainly said and took a step back from you to aimlessly walk around the room again.

"Why not?", you asked chasing him in an attempt to make him look at you.

"Because I said so." You lifted your arms in despair. "Tell me, uncle. Give me a reason why this is not a good solution." Daemon shook his head.

"My brother wouldn’t accept it anyway." He chuckled. "He wouldn’t give his precious little girl to me."

"But we could try at least. Or do you have a better plan?" Daemon rolled his eyes angrily and then glared at you. "I’m NOT going to take you as my wife, Vhaela."

You felt anger rising in your chest and had changed your hands to fists. "Is it because the idea comes from me? Is it because you only view me as a child? Because you don’t take me seriously?", you said with a weak voice.

"Careful, little owl.", Daemon growled and came a little closer to you again.

"What? I’m speaking the truth.", you said with teary eyes. Daemon watched you disdainfully and he rested his right hand on your cheek.

"Shut it. I don’t see you as a little child and I take you seriously. I simply know that your 'plan' is not going to work.", he hissed.

"But we don’t have a better one." Daemon lifted your chin and raised his eyebrows.

"I’m going to talk to your father. Tell him that I don’t believe that this betrothal is a good idea. He might not always trust my judgement but perhaps I can at least give him something to think about."

You looked at him and just felt miserable. Your father wouldn’t listen to his brother and you knew that for a fact. He loved Daemon, yes, but he knew how repulsive he was. And yet you nodded and looked up to him with big eyes.

"Fine.", you whispered and suddenly felt very small in this world. Daemon moved a strand of hair out of your face and pressed a kiss on your hair.

"Iksan ivestragon ao bisa arlī, byka mēre. Ao sagon ñuhon. Daor se Stārke's. Ñuhon.  Kesan daor ivestragī zirȳ gūrogon ao qrīdrughagon." (I'm telling you this again, little one. You're mine. Not the Stark's. Mine. I will not let them take you away.)

You nodded and let him pull your head to his chest. His warmth felt good and you enjoyed his arms wrapped around you. He caressed the back of your head and then after a few moments ended the hug. You would’ve liked to stay like this a little longer but Daemon looked at you with a tilted head and a slight smirk.

"Sleep well, riña (girl)." He walked towards and you watched the back of his head. "Good night, Daemon."

~~~~~~~~~~

"Hahaha.", Daemon heard, standing in front of the door. It was late, the hour of the owl but he didn’t care. He should probably wait until the morrow but if he had something important to do, he would do it immediately. Even if it meant interrupting the King at a late hour. Also, Daemon wasn’t tired yet. The adrenaline he had felt today had triggered his nerves and he felt as awake as if it was in the middle of the day.

The guard who was positioned in front of the door opened it and walked in. Daemon could only hear muted chatter and then the door was opened for him. He walked in, a serious look on his face and smirked slightly when he saw the King sitting on a chair in front of the fire place.

"Brother.", he spoke and Viserys turned to him, looking not as surprised as he had thought him to be.

"Daemon. Come and sit with me." He walked towards another chair and let himself sink on it. Then he crossed his legs and exhaled loudly.

"What brings you to me at such late hour, dear brother?"

Daemon chuckled and laid his arm on the armrest. "Do I really need an excuse to spend some time with my brother?" Viserys smiled but Daemon could see in his eyes that he looked at little tired and thought if it had been a good idea not to wait until the next day. Anyway, he would speak to him now.

"Well, actually I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Aha.", Viserys made and lifted his eyebrows. "Speak then. I’m open to listen to the matters of the man who has won back the Stepstones for the crown." Daemon smirked, looking down but then lifted his head to look at his brother.

"It’s about Vhaela. And the betrothal with the Stark Prince." Daemon could sense how his expression faded a little and his eyes looked sad.

"What of it?"

He exhaled and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I don’t think it is a good idea."

Viserys rested his elbows on his legs and frowned at his brother. "Why? It is a good match for her." He looked at Daemon with small eyes and then threw his hands in the air.

"Now you’re coming to me about that as well, Daemon. You’re making this even harder for me or do you think it is easy for me to send my youngest daughter away to the North? Do you think it will be easy for me to marry her to a lord twice her age and simply trust that her husband and the people in Winterfell will treat her well?"

Daemon shrugged his shoulders and lifted his eyebrows. "Then don’t. Don’t wed her to him."

Viserys chuckled. "With what reasoning? From a strategic point of view it is the best we can do. And she has to marry soon anyway."

"Well, I think you can do better than that."

Viserys frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"I think that you can make a better match for her than the Stark boy."

"Who are you talking about Daemon?"

He straightened up in his chair and exhaled. "The rebellion in Braavos, brother. I know that you don’t like to hear that but I agree with Lord Ellion. The whole situation has the potential to be a threat to the crown. And yes, Lord Hotorlan is negotiating with the crown at this moment and right now there are no signs that there will be a war, but the situation is tense. And we can’t risk letting it escalate. A war with the free cities would be a catastrophe. We should do our very best to avoid it at all costs."

Daemon looked at him insistent and Visery's frown intensed. "What are you suggesting, brother?"

"Don’t marry Vhaela to the Starks. Keep her in King’s Landing and wait. Lord Hotorlan has sons of his own, if the situation threatens to boil up you can send a marriage proposal and ask him to wed one of his sons to your daughter. It would be controversial, yes, but with this marriage we could avoid a war before it even starts."

There was silence in the room and Viserys stared at the rings on his hand. Daemon watched him for a reaction but it took several moments until Viserys started to speak again.

"Vhaela was a gift from the gods.", he said quietly with teary eyes. "After we had Rhaenyra, we were so happy, Aemma and I. And we thought it would be like this forever now. How could you think it will ever be any different when you have your child in your hands? But then, almost two years later, Aemma was haunted by demons. She wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t eat. She wouldn’t go outside even." Viserys looked at his brother and a single tears rolled down his cheek.

"She would just lay in bed all day without any motivation to get up. I don’t know if you remember it. She suffered. And so did I and Rhaenyra as well. A newborn who didn’t get any attention from her mother….But then she became pregnant again. At first I didn’t know what the condition would do to her. I thought the demons would take her child and consume it as they had done it with Aemma. But no. The child in her belly lit her up. Really, it was like a light shone through her. I remember being by her bed. She looked me in my eyes and told me that she hadn’t bled for two moons. That she had a babe inside her. A daughter. I waited. And then she smiled. I hadn’t seen her smile in months, Daemon. I had even forgotten what she looked like when she smiled. It was like someone returned to me that I hadn’t seen in months. She just smiled. Vhaela made her happy. I know carrying a child can be hard and painful, but still… My Aemma was happy again. And then she was in childbirth and afterwards she held her. Vhaela was so tiny and Aemma just couldn’t stop crying. Not because she was sad, no, because Vhaela had lit up her whole world. She had brought joy in Aemma’s life."

More tears had gathered in Viserys‘ eyes and one by one, they rolled down his face. He cried silently with his head lowered and Daemon just watched him with teary eyes as well.

"And then the demons took Aemma away from me, Daemon. And to this day, I don’t know why. I don’t know what the gods have punished me for." Viserys lifted his head again and intensely looked at his brother.

"I can’t lose my daughters, brother. I just can’t. I can’t let the gods take another person I love." He chuckled sadly. "And now you suggest to me to wed Vhaela to a Braavosi Prince who I don’t know and whose family are not loyal to us as the Starks. Sending her to Essos. I can’t do that."

"I’m not suggesting you wed her to him in the morrow, brother. It would only happen if the situation with Lord Hotorlan was to escalate. Which might not even happen. You simply need a reassurance. A plan. Refuse Lord Cordin’s offer, keep Vhaela in King’s Landing. She’s 16, she doesn’t necessarily need to be wed for another 2 years. If the crown will be able to hold Hotorlan under control for the next two or three years you can wed Vhaela to another highborn lord. Maybe even a Stark. But if not, she could be the key to uphold peace in the realm."

Viserys shook his head. "I don’t know, Daemon."

"What speaks against it?", Daemon asked with lifted eyebrows.

"Lord Cordin wouldn’t be delighted. And I don’t know if I could just send Vhaela to Braavos."

"Not giving her to the Starks wouldn’t automatically mean that you’ll send her to Braavos. It’s simply a second option, a insurance for our differences with Braavos.", Daemon said a little louder.

Viserys remained silent.

"You’ve changed, Daemon.", he then said and smiled softly. "It suits you."

[kyri45]

✨ISAT Sky: Cotl!AU Q&A ✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the ISAT Sky: Cotl!AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

Anonimo ha chiesto: sometimes when im bored i just go to your profile to position your pfp to siffrin's hands so it looks like they're holding you

I feel threatened bc if Siffrin would know what I'm making them pass through with the next comic updates he would crush me insteantly with a fist.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Damn Siffrin is dying and no one will ever remember them. 😔 Oh Loo~ooop!

Loop coming to save the day even tough they aren't paid enough for this shit

Anonimo Siffrin isn't aware of the hole in the wall you can go through for those two statues without having to get pelted by rocks smh my head. (said jokingly) ((Love your comic btw!! Thank you for this AU, I love it))

THE

WHAT?

YOU CAN GO THROUGH A WALL TO GET THEM WITHOUT RUNNING FOR YOUR LIFE?????

Anonimo My reaction to this chapter of ISAT COTL CROSSOVER AU (10/9/2024) GO BBG YOU GOT THIS IN THE BAG!! OH YOU DO NOT GOT THIS IN THE BAG.. oh now you're out of the bag oh god ruh roh

Oh yeah he does NOT have this.

Anonimo pst hey hey are you gonna pose the statues, it would be funny i swear totally not more heartbreaking for siffr- WAIT HOW WOULD THEY REACT TO THE FACT YOU CAN BARELY SAVE ALL OF THE STATUES WHEN YOU REACH THE FOREVER STORM PART-

he has enough memories that he should recover a good amount of statues. It's not a matter of wheter or not he can save everyone, but mostly themself....

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hey so I cannot believe I am so late to see your ISAT and Sky AU because I love!! Both of them!! So much!! And I just wanted to thank you for making it and sharing it with us because it’s really cool! And both fandoms need more attention imo <333 @ucorpwhalingyaoi ha chiesto: I know NOTHING about cotl but my god your isat au of it has made me want to play it so bad 💔 (very /pos…) @primrosechronicles ha chiesto: HEYYYY ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE IVE SENT AN ASK!! Ive been silently reading the isat comic since my last ask and im very very proud of you for making this far!!! mwahh!!! Thank you for inspiring me to play sky again, cuz if not i wouldn't have able to meet my sky friends Anonimo ha chiesto: first of all, I came here from the shadowpeach au but your comics dragged my ass to the ISAT fandom second of all, HOW DARE YOU PLAYED WITH MY HAPPINESS LIKE THAT (love your art and story telling, I wanna eat it like a fancy dinner) @prince0fghosty ha chiesto: It's been hard for me to find Sky: Children of the Light content anywhere! I found you through a friend and not only are you interested in Sky but also Lego Monkie Kid this is truly the best day ever!!! I got back into the game because of you. I like to help moths out in Eden @phoenix-is-here ha chiesto: You are the person who introduced me to the ISAT fandom and I gotta say thank you for that. That's one of the best games I've ever played and I would have never known about it without stumbling onto your account first (because of a strong hyperfixation on a show about monkeys ofc) so.. Accept this virtual cookie and glass of milk as a gift : 🍪 Anonimo ha chiesto: I followed for the shadowpeach, stayed for Sky CotL, keep cookin

HIII!!! AND TYSM!!!!!

@elianaroselight ha chiesto: This feels a little silly, but what is ISAT? I read through your ISAT Sky AU comic and I feel like I am missing half of the story. I love what I'm seeing so far and want more, but I also don't know or completely understand who the characters are and why I should care about them (more than I do already at least). Sorry if this is silly. I just want to understand.

ISAT is short for "In Stars And Time". It's an RPG game made by @insertdisc5. ABsolutely go check it out otherwise you wont understand a thing about the characters of the AU!

when i was reading the most recent page of the In Skies and Time™️ comic I had the most hilarious image in my head of just a bunch of sky kids smacking down on the same area and making this. sky kid pileup????? [since it seems liek theyre all gonna come back like that..] it was super funny to imagine 30 CAR PILEUP 🔥🔥🔥

AWWW SKY KID MOUNTAIN!! Lol probably it would happen? Like when you do Eden just after reset and when you get reborn there's like 7 other players clipped in you rebirth animation in the aviary /home space

Anonimo ha chiesto: Awwwww Bonnie was so excited 😢

poor Bonnie they will get their comfort moment eventually

@sohrleas ha chiesto: YOU YOU'RE THE REASON WHY I got Sky 'cause I saw your isat sky au and got super curious about the game Your art is beautiful and I love it 💚💚💚

LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOO!!!!

Anonimo ha chiesto: HOPEFUL STEWARD WOOOOO-

IT'S MY BOY!!

@o0mochacoffee0o This isn’t related to you Bio dad AU Like my usuals- I just saw in your abut that you like CotL! Now you share two of my interests!! I’m curious to know your favorite parts of the game, if you have any ships, head canons, etc!! I always love listening to people’s opinions on things I love!

About Scotl? I don't have any specific headcanon, but I do ship Moments Guide and Reassuring Ranges. The only thing that I crave for that game is MORE LORE GODDAMN IT

Anonimo ha chiesto: When I said the fun was dying. I did not expected this. I'M SCREAMING AND PUNCHING THE BED NOOOOOOOOOOOO SIFFF

*sips coffee* welcome to hell (literally)

Anonimo ha chiesto: "is that thing a sadness?!" sweet summer child that thing is a menace of death

It absolutely is

Anonimo ha chiesto: Poor Siffrin’s gotta be absolutely TERRIFIED Big scary beast thing spotted them AND suddenly getting bathed in the color they associate with bad stuff? I can’t imagine anyone who wouldn’t be quaking in their boots.

He is in desperate need of comfort that wont come in like- a irl month I think

Anonimo ha chiesto: I know you won’t be doing the golden wastelands but… Once the party discovers that the groundwater has the same effect as the forest rain, Isabeau decides to bridal carry Siffrin the whole way. Leaving Siffrin a blushy mess. Also, almost if not everyone is scared shitless of the Dark Dragons/Krill (totally not projecting)

ooooohh that is soooo cute i'm dying!!!!!

Anonimo ha chiesto: THE FAKE ACT 4 LOOKING SMILE . THE ACT 5 EDEN MOMENT. THE PARTY BEING SENT BACK . DIES "oh yeah if I still have energy I can loop back" ← me when I'm lying

@starlight-and-clockwork ha chiesto: bawling and kicking and screaming and pulling my hair out THAT PANEL OF SIFFRIN ASKING HIS FAMILY TO REMEMBER HIM WILL HAUNT ME FOREVER YOU ARE SO TALENTED AND CAUSE ME MUCH PAIN THANK U<3

@aro-aces-world ha chiesto: I just caught up with ISAT sky au Fuck you /affectionate

Thank you! Be ready to be even more destroyed by the following updates!

@cherryblossomventi ha chiesto: I’m gonna go feral, Sif did that because he knows he can kinda come back from this with the shooting star thing Im guessing but the others cant/might not because they aren’t from this land,,, oh buddy why didn’t you tell them stop being cryptic idiot

Sif doesn't really remember that he can be reborn like in Sky. He knows only that, if he can reach the light right at the base of the cataclysm, then maybe he can return as well.

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 9 K Warnings: Angst (like pretty much every chapter so far). ♡THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SMUT ♡: fingering, hand job, P in V, lots of kissing and teasing. Soft!Sirius. Consent is Sexy! Prompt: At the Potter's, Sirius and Reader take a small little detour in the woods. This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 50: Love the One You’re With

♡ SMUT UNDER THE CUT ♡

January, 06th, 1977

Spending time with the boys, planning the prank, and exploring the grounds of Potter Manor had been as distracting as you could expect it to be. James had woken you every day at around 10 am for flying –he’d borrowed you one of his old brooms– and even Remus had joined since it wasn’t unspeakably early like normally. 

You hadn’t seen him fly very often, but he was as good as any of the boys. If he trained, he could have even become better than James. He also joined smaller quidditch matches that you played with the boys, and while he hadn’t trained as much as either of you, he had a mean-as-hell arm for beating. You could tell Sirius had a hard time returning his bludgers, you decided not to test your luck and avoided them altogether. Even if Remus seemed to always be checking if you were alert before throwing one your way, they flew so fast, that you barely had time to step out of their trajectory. 

You were thankful that the boys hadn’t tried to talk about what happened further, not even Effie who seemed to always look at you with a small frown on her soft features. As if she wanted to approach you and talk things out but was also refraining from doing so. 

Even James, who tended to be a little too wrapped in his head seemed to be extra considerate, and he was clearly trying to keep you entertained. Be it flying, prank designing, asking you to help him with the letter he would send to Lily, or inventing games for everyone to play, he wasn’t letting anyone have a free moment in which any of you could start moping.

And you were more than thrilled it had been that way, you were still trying to avoid your feelings, pretending as if all of it hadn’t happened wasn’t as hard as you thought it might be outside of the bubble of the cottage, in fact with James being so hell-bent on entertaining all of you, you barely even had time to consider the difference. Besides, there was something else occupying your mind. 

Remus was acting weird again, and you still weren’t sure what was going on with him. You also weren’t enough of a hypocrite to ask him to talk it through with you when you had barely done the same yourself. Either way, you kept your eyes on him often, trying to read his expressions –never his mind thought– to see if you could use body language and wit to understand what was going on with your best friend.

“I’m knackered,” you said as you threw yourself on the sofa. You had been playing all day and Remus and Sirius had been ruthless while trying to throw you and James off your brooms while you chased the snitch. He had won. 

“At least you’ll become better at dodging this way,” James said as he handed you a glass of water and sat beside you. 

“I’m already pretty good at dodging.” 

“You might hold the record of getting hit by the most balls at this point, Starshine,” Sirius said as he sat on the small wooden table in front of you and Prongs. Remus plopped right next to you and sank into the sofa. 

“My arms hurt,” he complained. “Don’t yours?” 

“Nope,” Sirius said, popping the p. Remus might have been stronger, but he wasn’t used to beating almost every day in the same way Sirius was. He never thought he’d be able to boast about having more condition than his best friend the werewolf and he was positively beaming because he wasn’t half as tired as Remus looked. 

You took a sip of the water James had given you and passed it to Remus who looked even thirstier than you felt, he took it gladly, his hands brushing over yours as they normally would. As if his tiredness made him forget why he’d placed a distance between the two (or at least more than normal, you were still closer to him than you were to most people, he was your best friend, after all). 

“Okay, you may rest 5 minutes, then we’re going to see if we find more tadpoles” 

“Prongs, mate, there’s no way in hell I’ll go search for tadpoles, I want a shower and a bed,” Remus said.

“That,” you said as you pointed at Rems. “Actually sounds lovely, we should all do that instead.” 

“No,” Sirius said as he stood up and extended his hand your way. “I want to show you something.” 

“Sirius,” you whined, sinking deeper into the sofa.

“Come on, you’ll love it.”  You pouted. “I can carry you there if you want.” 

You sighed and stood up while grumbling something about wanting to rest for at least just a bit when James took hold of your arm. “But the tadpoles–” 

“Prongs, she’s coming with me now, go write a letter for Lily or whatever.” 

“Without Vixen?” he asked mortified, Remus laughed. 

“Don’t send it until someone sane has checked it, at least.” 

“She can’t continue being your cupid,” Remus added. “You’ll have to sway Lily by yourself.” 

You laughed. “As if he hadn’t asked Sirius all the tips and tricks before hooking up with her.” 

“Not a hook-up,” James corrected. “We’re dating, I’m not like Moony.” 

A pillow hit James’ face after that. “I’m tired, not deaf,” Remus grumbled, he was especially cranky because the moon would be the following day, you had already made arrangements for it. The Potters knew about Remus’ condition and they’d leave the perimeters so you could handle everything by yourselves in your animagi form.

“Well, you’ve never had an actual girlfriend. And you were playing around with that Ravenclaw girl, who by the way, I didn’t like all that much either.” 

“Alice is nice!” you said quickly. She was a little boy crazy and she enjoyed being a free spirit, but she was a good girl, very clever too. 

“I’m not saying she isn’t. But Remus didn’t love her. If anything I’d say he liked you more than he ever liked her.” 

Remus panicked the minute James said that, but it flew right past both you and Sirius. “Well that’s because I’m amazing, Prongs,” you said with a smile and shot him a wink. 

“Not what I meant,” he responded in a more serious tone. 

“How about you all stop discussing my love life and start worrying about your own?” 

“Will you help me with the letters? Maybe you know a poem that could help me sway her.” 

“No,” Remus said dourly.  

“Oh, he knows many,” you teased. 

“I’m still not gonna help him.” 

“But Moony!” Prongs said with a pout and allowed his head to fall on Moony’s legs, he got shoved off shortly after. You laughed, even though something in the back of your mind told you there was something wrong with the entire ordeal. Sirius does that all the time and he never gets more than an annoyed glance, you realised. Then again, James had just insulted Moony, and Moony could be really petty when he wanted to, especially near the moon.

“How about this… I’ll get you one of mom’s relaxing bath bombs, and you help?” Luckily for James, he could be persistent as hell when he wanted to. 

Moony groaned in return and turned to James. “You think you can add something for muscle pain?” 

“Playing again tomorrow helps with that,” Sirius said as he ruffled Remus’ hair, who in turn, shoved his hand off and threw him a spiteful look. “We’ll leave you boys to it then,” he said with a shrug wrapping his hand in yours to pull you along with him. 

“Where are you taking me?” You asked as you reached the door and he grabbed a thick coat, placing it around your shoulders and then placing a hat over your head that was so long you had to push back to be able to see again. Sirius took one of Remus’ coats and placed it around himself. 

“He charmed it, it’s warmer,” he said casually as he accommodated it. “And… it’s a surprise.” Had he really taken Remus’ sweater because it was warmer? He wasn’t entirely sure, but he had seen his and James’ and yours (borrowed by Effie), and Remus’ had seemed the best choice. You hadn’t even noticed he had taken Remus’ until he mentioned it was warmer. 

You pursed your lips and sighed, nodded and followed along Sirius, who still holding your hands in his, was walking you through the billowy blanket of snow that stretched all the way to the small forest. You had seen the forest before, the boys had taken you there a couple of times and while you hadn’t actually seen the entire thing, the Potters had mentioned it was safe, and that it had been in the family for generations –nothing like the Forbidden Forest back in Hogwarts.

“Will you really not tell me where we’re going?” 

“No, close your eyes.” He responded. “Go on!” 

You shook your head with a small scoff but did as told. He placed his hands over your face. One of them was warm –the one he had around yours– but the other one was a little colder, which made you flinch back and crash against him. He chuckled breathily and you could feel his breath on your neck. 

“If you wanted for us to stand closer you could have said so, Étoile.” 

You huffed in response. “Next time you put your freezing hands on my face, I’ll throw snow down your shirt.” 

“Don’t be like that,” he said with a pout and pressed a kiss to your cheeks. His lips were also rather cold, but you didn’t mind them touching you at all. “Careful there’s a branch,” he said as he guided you through the forest.

“Are we close?” 

“Almost,” Sirius replied. “To the left,” he added as he pushed you to the side for you to get past another obstacle. 

You must have given 15 other steps. You felt the weather get slightly humid and… kind of warmer? “Sirius what is–” 

“Open your eyes,” he interrupted and removed his hands from your face and placed them on your shoulder instead. 

There was a small round pool, surrounded by trees, although the sun still shone through some of them. There was steam piling on top of the water and the water itself was so pale, that it almost looked silver, like Sirius’ eyes. You leaned down and curiously dug your hand. The water was indeed warm, but when you pulled your hand out along with it, it rained down in a colourful, rainbow-like, manner. 

You dug your hand again and agitated it inside the water, the ripples were just as colourful as the stream that had dropped from your hand, turning the silvery water into a splendid visage. You had heard of things like this but you had never actually seen them. 

“Is this–” 

“Yeah,” Sirius said as he leaned down next to you. “A vieux fae thermal pool. Legend says Nymphs each had one of these to warm themselves in winter and invite their Nereid friends. James and I found it a few years ago while exploring and we lost it. I found it again while looking for the Tadpoles and thought you had to see it.” 

“There weren’t any here, were they?” you teased and he shook his head with a laugh. He also placed his hand on the water, but it didn’t tint all the wonderful colours like it had with your hand. It was only silvery shiny ripples. 

You leaned your hand towards his in the water, and the moment you touched it, the colours came back. “It must be your fae heritage,” Sirius said. “It certainly didn’t make those colours when James and I swam inside.” 

“You swam inside?” You gasped, turning to him in disbelief. “Don’t you know that pisses off the fae?” 

“There are no fae here,” he responded. “They made a deal with Prong’s family long ago. They switched lands or something like that. Effie was scandalised when we told her the thermal pool we’d found thinking there was fae in the house,” he chuckled, “but Monty was quick to tell her about it.”

“Does that mean… we can get swim without pissing anyone off?” You asked, a small smirk appearing on your lips. 

“Indeed,” Sirius said, mirroring your expression. 

Your smile grew wider and you quickly shrugged off the coat. It was cold, but the water would be warm enough once you were inside. Sirius copied you in an instant. Remus’ coat was carefully left on top of a rock, right next to yours. You discarded the hat and flipped Remus’ long-sleeved jumper over your head. 

“Don’t you have any clothes of your own?” Sirius asked when he noticed you had one of his shirts under that. 

“Shut up or I’ll actually swim with it,” you responded as you unlaced your trainers and took them off, placing them and your socks just beside the rock. 

“But you’d ruin it!” 

“Exactly,” you added before unbuttoning the thick pants you had on letting them drop on the floor. You were shivering slightly and missed the way Sirius’ gaze trailed your thighs as you stepped out of the pants and left them on the rock.

By the time you looked his way he had already averted your gaze, but his cheeks were slightly tinted. He pulled his hand back and yanked his shirt off from the back of the neckline, it had been so fast and so seamless that you couldn’t help but blink in surprise. 

“Like what you see?” he teased. 

“Oh shut up, Puppy,” you said before taking your own shirt off. Either way, Sirius had already seen you in underwear, you were not expecting him to get nearly as flustered as he did. “Turn around.”

“What?” He asked with a frown. 

“Turn around, I don’t want to have wet underwear when we get out.” 

He frowned and once he understood what you meant he swallowed and did as told. He was tempted to turn back, to see, but he fixed his eyes on the pile of clothes and tried not to think too much about it when he saw, first your bra, and then your knickers fall on the rock. He gulped and tried to focus his mind on something else, which proved rather unsuccessful since he could still see them on the rock. 

There was a short splash, “You may turn now,” you said with a smile. He turned around. You were leaning against the edge, you had your face resting on your arms and he could see half of your back as it dipped into the rainbow colours that seemed to ripple away from you. Your scarred arm was in full view, and his gaze lingered over it just for a second before it went back to your face.

Your hair was wet and it was clinging to your head and there were a few droplets of water sliding from your cheek that shone like bubbles, or perhaps like oil spilt on the ground. He gulped thickly and stared, no wonder muggles were kidnapped by fae and drowned by mermaids willingly, he thought, he too would have gotten in willingly if he found you like that on a random walk in the woods. When you realised he was staring you smirked and tilted your head to the side. “Like what you see?” 

He scoffed wryly at the way you threw his words back at him and smiled, biting his lip before tilting his head as well. “Turn around then,” he told you.

You smiled, and dipped back in the water, appearing back again with your back turned to him. He was quick to take off his underwear and jump in, you heard him sigh as the water helped him warm up again.

When the water stilled you turned around again. Sirius was staring at you with a sneaky little smile, paying close attention to how the water looked. He found it absolutely fascinating, the way your sole touch made the water change so naturally around you, he wondered what that same touch could do to him. It would certainly change some things. 

“Stop it,” you said with a smile. 

“I’m doing nothing!” he protested.

“You’re staring.” 

“Well, you’re beautiful, you can’t blame me.” 

You pouted and dipped half of your head in the water, only leaving your eyes above it before he noticed how embarrassed he’d made you. It’s not that Sirius didn’t take every chance he got to remind you how much he liked you, but you weren’t always naked while he said it. 

He smirked, “Are you flustered?” 

You splashed him with water in retort, the water flying in all sorts of magical colours and turning silver the minute it clashed with his skin, like his eyes. 

“Oi!” he complained as he wiped his face with the back of his hands. 

“This reminds me of Mexico.” 

“This is nothing like Mexico,” he responded, while he avoided staring at the valley of your breasts, he was sure the waves and ripples you were both creating could –if they wanted to– stop covering most of them and flash him in the process.

“What do you mean? There’s water, you’re being a bit of an idiot, trying to seduce me with your pretty words–” he splashed you now, the silvery water falling in colourful droplets onto your face. “See? You’re even splashing me when I call you out!” 

“You think I’m trying to seduce you?” He asked with a smirk, taking a step closer. 

“Aren’t you always?” you retorted. 

He hummed in response, cocking his head to the side with a devilish smile, he looked bewitching, his curls were wet and cascading around his face, the ripples of colour reflecting in his eyes, sometimes it was staggering how gorgeous he was, but he knew the effect he had on you and he loved it. 

“Perhaps I am,” he said as he took another step closer. “But you love every bit of it, don’t you, Starshine? You love it when I call you pretty, and when I whisper in your ear how much I like you, the way you laugh, the way you look at me, the way you smell.” 

You knew what he was doing, and you threw another splash of water his way before pushing yourself to the side and swimming around him. He laughed at your reaction and threw some water back, silvery and colourful water droplets clashing against each other and your faces. 

You dipped your head in the water and circled him until you stood behind him, then leaned a little closer, placing both hands on his shoulders and using them as leverage to float a little. Leaning in even further and resting your head on his neck, not quite allowing the rest of your body to touch his, not yet. 

“Do you mind?” you asked as you wrapped one of your arms over his shoulder.

“Not at all,” he said, voice short. Neither of you had forgotten that under the ripples of the silvery water, you were both bare. He turned his head and pressed a soft, and quick kiss to your cheek. “You feel really soft,” he added. 

“You’ve felt me plenty of times.” 

He stifled a laugh at the innuendo in your words, “I meant slippery.” 

You hummed in response, “You do too… but not soft,” you added as you sneaked one of your hands on his bicep, it was still toned after he practised beating with Rem, more than normal if you might say so yourself.

“Tease,” he said as he shoved you with his shoulder, stopping when he felt your breast brush against his skin. “Sorry,” he muttered quickly. He had felt your breasts before, while making out, but never on his back and he hadn’t dared to sneak his hand under your bra either. 

“It’s okay,” you said and leaned a little closer, allowing them to fully rest on his back. He flushed when he felt your nipples, perky against his muscles. “I don’t mind if you don’t.” 

“I certainly don’t,” he replied and thanked the heavens the water was all sorts of colours instead of clear, or you would have seen his –very evident now– reaction to your closeness. “Are you flustered now?” you asked when you noticed the slight blush creeping up his neck.

“It’s the cold,” he rushed out. 

“Is it?” you teased and brushed your hand over his arm again. “And here I thought I was turning you on.” 

He turned his head to look at your face with eyebrows raised, surprised at your words. 

“Starshine…” he warned. 

You gave him an innocent look in return, “Yeah?” 

“Who’s seducing who, now?” 

“Still you,” you said with a small smirk, reaching out to brush one of his curls behind his ear. You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before pulling back to admire him again, your fingers tracing circles near his collarbone.

“You think?” he asked as he turned his head to yours, his lips dangerously close to your own. 

“Definitely,” you whispered, his lips were almost brushing yours. He closed the gap, it was a small kiss at first. But you leaned in closer and his tongue was in yours in no time. You were slowly slipping from his shoulder and in front of him while you kissed. He placed both of his hands on the back of your neck when you were in front of him, pulling your head closer and using his thumbs to brush your hair out of your face. 

“You’re stunning, you know that?” he asked as he pulled apart for a second and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Sometimes all I can think of is you,” he added. Sometimes it’s Remus. He kissed you again when that thought crossed his mind. 

One of his hands moved to your arm, and then to your waist, lingering only for a second on the side of your breast, as if he wanted to touch but wasn’t sure if you’d want that too. “Go ahead,” you said as you pulled from the kiss and whispered into his mouth. He seemed hesitant at first, but when you went back to kiss him he traced his fingers from your waist towards the lower side of your breast. He brushed his thumb before he wrapped his hand around it, he deepened the kiss and you almost melted under his touch. 

Neither you nor him had gotten this far before while making out, you loved it, you couldn’t think of anything other than Sirius and you certainly didn’t want to think of anything other than him. You’d been thinking too much already. You pushed your body into his but he pulled his hips back and placed both hands on your shoulders to hold you in place. 

“Wait,” he said, panting. “You don’t want to do that.” 

You cocked your head before you realised what had happened. “Sirius…” 

“Just one second,” he said, his eyes were closed shut and he had a small frown as if he was trying to concentrate on something. 

You smirked when he realised what was going on and giggled, placing your hand on his cheek before tentatively leaning closer to him again. “Weren’t you the one teaching Prongs all of your knowledge on the train?” 

His head snapped your way and he swallowed. “Yes but, we’ve– you’ve never… not really.” 

“Sirius, we've been going out for months.” 

“Exactly! And we’ve never even gotten past, you know!” 

“We do get interrupted rather often,” you said in agreement. “I doubt we’ll get interrupted now, though.” 

“But you’re naked,” he added as he motioned his head down, “Me too.” 

“Mhm,” you said as you leaned in to kiss him again, Placing your hand on his chest and then slowly sliding it down his chiselled abdomen you added, “That’s kind of a requirement for it.” When you reached down, you were not expecting to feel him as hard as he was, you pulled your hand back tentatively. “Is this why you pulled back?” 

He averted your gaze, and you smiled. “Sorry…” 

“Oh don’t be,” you said as you lowered your hand again, wrapping it around his cock, he groaned in response. “I just thought with your experience… it would take a little longer for you to– you know.” 

“You’ve been teasing since you shrugged off your coat, what did you expect?” he responded, you moved your hand. ”Fuck.” 

“You’ve never gotten like this while making out…” 

“You’ve never been naked while we’re making out. You’ve never teasingly placed your nipples on –shit.” 

“It’s okay,” you coed, and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. 

You flicked your wrist and gripped him again, brushing his tip with your thumb and he moaned, louder than you had ever heard him moan, it sent a thrill down your spine. 

“Hold up–” he said and lowered one of his hands to your stomach. “May I?” He was panting from the way you were pleasuring him, flushed and he looked like it was hard for him to form proper thoughts, and yet here he was, head slightly tilted down, asking if he could touch you. 

You nodded in response. He bit his lip at your words and lowered his hands further down, tracing your slit slowly with his index and then using a different one to part his way in, he wasn’t sure how he didn’t cum the minute he felt you. It was all slippery, and he couldn’t tell if you were turned on, or if it was just the water, so he was slow and tender as he moved his fingers up and down your slit. 

“Is that good?” 

“Mhm,” you said as you moved your own hips to chase his fingers. “There,” you added as one of his fingers brushed against your clit. 

“Like this?” he asked as he circled, “or this?” he added as he moved his finger over it, in an up-and-down motion instead. 

“Fuck,” you said as you laid your head on his shoulder, your movements on his cock becoming dumber as his on your clit became more determined. 

“Okay, I see,” he smirked when he found a pace that you liked, he lowered his fingers a bit further and teased your entrance. “Would you like it if–” 

“Please,” you pretty much whined. He smiled, loving the effect he had on you and pulled you back for a kiss, you moaned into his mouth when you felt his finger tease your entrance again, slowly sliding in.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he sighed as he shut his eyes and pressed his forehead onto your shoulder, you squeezed your walls around his finger in return and he let out another curse. “You might kill me if you do that when I’m inside.” And then he pulled back and looked at you, his eyes moving rapidly as they looked for yours. “If you want it, of course.” 

You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, “I’d love it.” 

You smirked and he used the hand that wasn’t occupied touching you, and slid it behind your waist, and then lower until he squeezed your ass, “You think you can take another one?” he asked as he teased your entrance with another finger, you nodded and he pulled the one inside off you out and then slowly slid the two of them in, this time making sure he was brushing your clit with his thumb the way that made you moan. Your hand on his cock faltered and he instantly took in his and wrapped it around his neck. “I can’t tell if you’re wet, Luv, you’re gonna have to tell me when you’re ready.” 

You pressed a kiss to his neck in response, and he continued with his expert movements. Now opening his fingers slightly, trying to make sure he’d be able to get in. 

“I think I’m ready,” you said while panting, your hips were bucking against his hand now, searching for more friction, but Sirius was being careful, he didn’t want to hurt you, he wanted it to be special since it was your first time with each other. 

Forget that you were inside a Nymph pool and that because of your fae descendance, there were rainbow colours all around, he wanted you to feel special. 

He slowly pulled his hand out, you bit your lip and at the lack of friction and were quick to close the gap between your bodies again, he groaned when he felt your slit brush next to his cock. You smiled and moved your hip again, enjoying the feeling of sensitive skin against it. He wasn’t even inside you and he already felt like cumming. 

You lowered your hand in between your bodies, he held you from your waist, chest against chest so it was up to you to accommodate the two. You took his cock in your hand again and moved it over your slit two times, allowing his tip to brush against your clit which only got you going even more. “Ready?” You asked.

He wasn’t sure he’d managed to come up with a word so he merely nodded. Your forehead was against his as you guided his cock inside you. He was slow and steady, not moving at all and allowing you to be the one to push into him rather than the other way around. He bottomed out and opened his eyes to stare at you. “You good?” he breathed.

“Mhm,” you said with a nod and placed a short kiss on his lips. 

“I’m gonna move,” he warned, and slowly moved out, only a little, and then he went back in again. He moved his hands from your waist to your ass to help with the movements and you placed yours around his neck. He traced your ass until he found the place where your bodies met and touched it as he thrusted into you, imagining how beautiful you looked underneath the water, perhaps as lovely as you looked above it. 

You were using him as leverage, both of your hands on his shoulders but you craved more friction. So you wrapped one of your arms around his neck, leaning in closer to him and sliding the other one down your bodies. You too were curious as to how that looked, but you’d definitely be able to see it on a different day. You started circling your hand on your clit when he noticed what you were doing. He couldn’t quite move his hands away from your ass since there was nothing you could recline on, but he hated the idea of you having to do it yourself. 

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheeks, then further down and down until he reached your lips. You lifted your head to meet his halfway and he kissed you, slow and steady, much slower than the way he was thrusting into you underneath the glistening water, the coordination was absolutely exhilarating. 

“Luv,” he said softly, focusing your eyes on your face. “May I turn you around? I feel I could make you feel better that way.” 

“You feel you could?” you asked wryly, biting your lips at the thought. He wasn’t only thinking of his pleasure, that had been evident since he asked to touch you but it still sent butterflies down your stomach. The boastful and sometimes a little self-absorbed Sirius cared so much about the way he was making you feel. “Let’s try it then.” 

He pressed another kiss to your mouth and slowly got out of you, using his hands to turn you around, one under your breast and the other one guiding your hips. He cursed when your ass brushed over his cock and you repeated the hip movement under the water which only got a hiss from him. “Such a tease,” he said with a smile as he pressed a kiss to the curve of your neck, moving his hand on your hips to search for your entrance again. He too teased a couple of times, making sure to brush his tip against your clit like you had done earlier which elicited a short, quiet moan from you. 

“You can make all the noise you want,” he said with a smile, and then got in, a lot faster this time around. He wrapped his aiding hand around you and left it on your lower stomach as he moved the other one to your breast. 

He looked at you as if asking for permission before settling it there, and then he started to move again. But the hand on your lower stomach slid down and he started to touch you, in the same way he learned you liked earlier. 

“Good?” 

“Great,” you panted. Soon both of you were panting and moaning, and the sound of the water, along with the distant chirping of birds and other sounds of the wintery forest surrounding you had you both completely lost in each other. The cacophony of sounds, organic and lewd, soft and deep, moaning and grunts and pleas, all of them combining into the perfect atmosphere. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, even if you could.

“I think I have to… quick,” he added as he gently pushed you off of him. You quickly turned around and placed one of your hands on his shoulder as you reached down, wrapping your hand around his wrist and moving it away from his cock. You then wrapped your hand around him. 

“Like this?” you asked gently. 

“You can grip a little tighter,” he said, eyes squeezed shut, “and move your hand a little faster.”

“Okay,” you said and did as told. Stroking him with purpose, he moved one of his hands to your shoulder and cursed under his breath.

“Fuck,” he panted. And you instantly knew he was cumming. You kept moving your hand on him, milking him all the way through although you couldn’t be sure if he had or not finished completely. You lowered your pace only when he started to go soft. He pressed a small kiss to your lips, “You’re bIoody fantastic.” 

You smiled, and wafted towards him, wrapping your legs around his waist and leaning in for a kiss. He was quick to wrap his arms around your back and hold you in place. When you pulled back from the kiss he started to place soft kisses all over your face, you could tell he was tired, his movements softer, and a lot more gentle than before –not that he had at any point stopped being gentle. 

Then you leaned down a little, sliding your cheek on his until your mouth was close to his ear. “Next time I’ll be taking Minnie’s potion,” you said and pressed a kiss to his cheek before pushing yourself off him and biting your lip.

“You’re such a tease, I swear!” he scolded with a laugh and moved forward to wrap you in his arms and kiss you again. Then it was he who leaned closer to you, and whispered, “Next time I’ll take my sweet time with you, Sweets. You’ll cum more than me.” 

It wasn’t just words, it was most definitely a promise, you realised as you felt yourself getting aroused again. You searched for his lips again and you made out for a few more minutes. Sometimes soft kisses, sometimes desperate ones, enough to pull at each other’s hair –you loved pulling at his hair.

“We better get back,” you said, pulling apart from a kiss as you realised the weather was going dark again. You were not eager to walk in a snowy forest in the dark again, fearing whatever kind of memories it could trigger back. The same kind you had been trying to bury so deep inside your mind the past few days that if you allowed them out, they might break you appart. You were not eager to cry, especially not after your first time with Sirius. 

“Can’t we stay a little longer?” he asked with a pout, tightening his grip on your waist. 

You looked around, and he was quick to see the anxiety in your face, “It’s kind of getting dark.” 

If he hadn’t heard the falter in your voice, perhaps he would have teased you further. Instead, he nodded, “You’re right, they might come looking for us and then we’ll actually be in trouble” he added with a grin. 

“As if that’s ever bothered you,” you smiled and pressed a kiss to his lips before separating from him and swimming towards the edge of the small pool. You used your hands as leverage to raise yourself from the water. 

Sirius let a low whistle from behind. “Ugh, you’re such a dog!” you scoffed while trying to hold your laughter. You were sure he had done it to piss you off. 

“Just appreciating my gorgeous girlfriend,” he said casually, and you kicked some water towards his face. 

“Fuck it’s cold,” you said as you got out and covered. yourself with your arms. Sirius was out in a second, he placed his coat –technically Remus’– over your shoulders. 

“Wait! It’ll get wet,” you said as you removed it and turned around to hand it forward, Sirius was looking at you with loving eyes, and you couldn’t help but blush. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

“I don’t care.” 

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “But I do, hand me your wand, please.” 

He was quick to summon his wand in the same way he used to summon a broom and then handed it over to you, brushing his fingers with yours. You used a warming spell to dry yourself as quickly as possible and handed it back to him, he allowed his fingers to linger on yours before doing the same. You shrugged off the coat while you walked to the rock in search of your undies. 

“Looking for this?” he teased, there was mirth in his eyes as he dangled your knickers in the air with one finger. 

You were covering your chest with one of your arms and he was looking at you with that mischievous look of his. You tilted your head to the side and narrowed your eyes at him. He extended his hand your way and when you reached to grab them he pulled back again, dragging them to his face and giving them a deep and long sniff. 

You looked at him aghast and actually laughed, “You really are a dog.” 

“And you’re my pretty vixen, aren’t you?” he said with a smile and threw the knickers your way. You caught them easily and shook your head. 

“Vixen am I not?” you responded with a teasing smile and turned around. And in one of the boldest moves you had ever done, you leaned down, exposing your ass to him as you slowly, and dreadfully sensually –or as sensually as you could muster– slid your knickers back on. 

“That’s not fucking fair,” he said as he adjusted his –now tighter– boxers. 

“Suck it up,” you said simply and finally stood straight, leaning down to take your bra and putting it on quickly. 

You reached for your shirt –technically his– but he already had it in his hands and held it over your head, helping you put it, even with your back still to him. When the shirt was fully on, he dug his hand underneath it and squeezed you closer to him. Burying his face in the nape of your shoulder. “Biggest tease ever,” he mumbled into your shoulder. His shirt smelled delicious, like you and– and Remus, fucking hell Sirius, stop it, he thought.

“I’m only letting you hug me because you’re warm.” 

He teasingly pinched your side. “Lie to yourself all you want, Starshine. You love having my arms around you.” 

You hummed in response and stayed like that for a bit. “Sirius?” 

“Mhm?” 

“You still haven’t put on a shirt, have you?” He grumbled something akin to no. You laughed and squirmed away from him, leaning in quickly to grab his shirt and throwing it at his face. “You’ll catch a cold, you dumbass.” 

He caught it quickly and put it on, “would have been worth it.” 

“It wouldn’t have,” you retorted. “I wouldn’t be able to cuddle you if you were sick.” 

“I see, you want to cuddle me more then,” he teased. 

“You were the one clinging onto me earlier,” you sassed in return and pulled your pants up. “Could you pass me the jumper?” 

He grabbed Moony’s jumper and threw it your way, you were quick to pull it over your head and then walked towards the rock to put on your shoes and socks. After that, you took both coats from the rock and passed him over the one he had thrown over you while wet –that you had half dried with a spell– and you put on the one you had brought. 

Once you were ready Sirius gave you a short smile and walked towards you, reached his hand towards you and intertwined your fingers, then tilted his head as he motioned for you to follow his lead. Sirius didn’t let go of you at all on the way back, who would have thought he was a romantic?

Except, Sirius wasn’t glued to you just because he didn’t want to stop touching you, but also because he had seen how anxious you’d gotten at the prospect of walking in the snowy woods at night, and the last thing he wanted was for you to feel anything than pleased, so he made sure to never let go of you. Not while you walked through the forest, not while you walked through the open fields, and not even when you opened the door to the house. 

“James, you can’t say that in a letter,” Remus said with an exasperated sigh. Both boys were sitting in the living room, James had a quill in his hand and was furiously crossing out something on a piece of paper and Remus was looking absolutely defeated like he both couldn’t and didn’t want to deal with James anymore. 

“But why not?” James asked with a frown. 

“Lily doesn’t even like Qudditch. And you said ‘in your eyes I see the goalposts of my dreams’, that’s objectifying. Not to mention how you said she was a Quaffle that you wanted to chase earlier.” 

“But I would follow her to the ends of the earth.” 

“That’s actually much better,” you said from the door with a smile, Sirius was trying not to laugh at both James and Remus’ relieved sighs when they spotted you. “Although a bit tacky, she might like it.” 

“Thank Godric you’re here,” Remus spoke. Meanwhile, James scribbled that one line from earlier. “Where were you, anyway?” 

“In the fae pool,” Sirius responded with a small, pleased smirk.

“Oh, cool,” James said, Sirius’ tone completely flying past his head. He turned to you. “You liked it? You were there a while.” 

“Oh, she loved it,” Sirius added and you elbowed him. 

“You’ll help me, right?” James asked, oblivious to the interaction that had just gone through, too immersed in his struggle to get the letter to look perfect, Remus had made him throw most of the things he’d written thus far. 

But Remus, even though exasperated, wasn’t nearly as oblivious as James, and he was quick to catch on to your interactions. The way you elbowed Sirius, the way he was looking at you, your swollen lips and Sirius’ smug –yet flushed– demeanour. He knew that look, he hated that look. Back in the day, it had only reminded him of how out of reach Sirius was. 

Today though? He didn’t even know how the fuck to feel. The image of the two of you all over each other in the thermal pool was looping over and over again in his mind, and it was the hottest thing he’d ever imagined. Fuck, he wished he had known, he wished he had taken the cloak and seen it happen with his own eyes. But at the same time, there was a pang in his heart, as if the wolf was reminding him: they’re not yours. 

“Yeah sure,” you said, leaving the coat you had on the hanger and walking towards both boys, you kneeled down in between James and Remus. She smells like sex, Remus thought as you approached, the barely visible hickey on your neck too obvious for someone who knew you so well. He focused his gaze on Sirius, who looked really excited and sighed, standing up. 

“I’ll go get a book,” he said as he stood up. 

“I’ll come with,” Sirius said with a smile. He wanted to talk about it, he wanted to tell Remus all about it, well not all about it, but he definitely wanted to tell him how amazing you’d been. 

“No, it’s fine, it won’t take me too much–” 

“Nonsense,” Sirius said and walked behind Remus towards the staircase. 

You gave both boys a short wave and then focused on James’ letter, now understanding why Remus was so done with James. 

“Okay, what exactly do you want to say in the letter, James?”  

“That I miss her a lot, that she’s stunning and gorgeous and that I want to see her again soon, and I want to invite her over too. Well, her and everyone.” 

“Okay, and what does the quidditch pitch, the balls and all this gibberish about chasing and catching and keeping have to do with that?” 

“Ugh… well-” 

“–Exactly. You don’t need any of that,” you said simply. “Tell me, what do you like about Lily…” 

It was then that your voices faded out completely and Remus was forced to focus on Sirius’. “When she touched the water, it turned into hundreds of different colours, it was stunning!” 

“Yeah?” Remus asked, trying to distract himself with the books in James’ massive library, he was reading and rereading through the titles and Sirius continued talking about it. 

“You should have seen it, Moony. The rainbows on the silvery water, it was like nothing I’d ever seen, and I’ve seen plenty of things…” 

Remus hummed simply in response, pulling out a book, reading through the front cover, and flipping a few pages. The wolf inside was clawing at him, telling him to get angry and to snap at Sirius for taking what was his. His Vixen. His Padfoot.

 “For fucks sake,” he muttered when he realized he had picked up one of those spicy romance novels you claimed he would be the cover of if it was about pirates. 

Thankfully, Sirius was too busy talking his ear off to hear what he’d said. “I swear, it had never been like this Remus, and you know I’ve been with plenty of women before…” No matter how much he tried, it was not easy to ignore Sirius’ rambling. “It was as if I had been bewitched. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she had used fae magic on me, but she doesn’t have any.” 

“She has charm,” Remus said with a sigh, “just not the one that comes along with magic.” He placed the book back on the shelf a little too forcefully and looked for a different title. 

“It felt incredible.” 

“Sirius,” Remus warned. 

“She’s amazing, I didn’t think she would know but the way she–” 

“SIRIUS!” 

“What?” he asked with a frown. 

“You think she would like you talking about it?” 

“You’re her best friend, my best friend, it doesn’t count.” 

“It does,” Remus said, turning to him now, a different book in his hands. He had enough images filling his mind without Sirius’ explicit tales. “And you’ve never been this specific before either.” 

Sirius huffed, “As if you hadn’t gone around kissing and fucking Alice just months ago.” 

“What does she have to do with any of this?” 

Yeah, what does Alice have to do with any of this? Sirius wondered himself. 

“Well– just that. You were kissing her at the Halloween party like you were eating her face off, and– I never told you off about it.” 

Remus scoffed, “She kissed me at that party. In public, I didn’t go around talking about it, not about how great it felt or how incredible she felt, or how much better she was than anyone else I had been with before.” 

Sirius swallowed, if he didn’t know better, he’d say Moony was jealous. But more important than that, he was irked by the idea of Alice being so incredible for Remus. “Well, if I don't tell you about it, then I’ll tell Prongs, I bet he’ll want to listen.” 

Remus sighed, exasperated. “Sirius, that was your moment.” He squeezed his eyes as he let out a breath. “You and her.” Golden brown eyes locked on steel grey again, “A special moment, a wonderful moment.” He had a hard time saying “wonderful”, Sirius noticed that too. “And I’m happy for you, truly.  For the both of you, it’s obvious you deeply care about the other, I can see how freaking in love you are with one another from kilometres away but– and I cannot emphasise this enough– I don’t need images of my two best friends fucking in the fae pool in my head.” 

And he really didn’t need them, there were enough of them by now. 

“I’m– I’m sorry,” Sirius stuttered. “I didn’t– I think I get what you mean,” he hadn’t liked the images of Remus fucking Alice either. Those had pissed him off, unlike James when he was descriptive of what he had done with Lily, he didn’t mind hearing those as much. “Do you think she’ll forgive me? I’ve gone and opened my big mouth, and it’s been hours since– Godric, I’m a total asshole.” 

Remus sighed and shook his head, “I don’t think there’s much you could do that she wouldn’t forgive,” he said honestly. Not if you love him like he knew you did. “Besides, you’ve been forgiven for much worse things.” Sirius tried not to recoil in his seat at the thought of the incident with Severus. 

By the time the two got back, you had already made a decent draft for Lily’s letter with James and he was looking for a fresh piece of parchment to write it with nicer handwriting. 

“Found your book?” you asked when you spotted Moony by the stairs. He showed you a book in response. Sirius came behind him, he held a small stack of books in his hands. 

“What you got there, Puppy?” 

“Wand lore,” he said with a smile. “I thought perhaps there’s a way to fix your wand, or if you decide to actually use Nina’s–”

“Sirius!” Remus and James reprimanded at the same time. 

“It’s okay,” you said simply. “I get what you’re trying to do,” you said simply and took one of the books from his hands. Opening and sitting on the armchair, not on the sofa, but on the armchair, where no one else would be able to sit. James and Remus threw Sirius a look and he mouthed a sorry while you focused on the book. 

It was actually a really interesting book, enough to drag you away from those sad thoughts. 

“Do you want to play Monopoly?” Sirius suggested after a while. 

You yawned in response, “Maybe sleep?” 

“Sounds great, you coming?” He asked Remus.

“No,” he said simply. “I’ll take the guest room today,” he added. Everyone turned to him with a frown. “Developed a bit of a sore throat, wouldn’t want to pass it on to any of you.” 

Remus had never, in the entire time that you’d known him, developed a sore throat.

“Have you taken something?” You asked, concerned. “Is it maybe a Moony thing?” 

“It might be just my screaming from the game earlier, but I’d rather not take any risks.” 

You frowned, unconvinced. “Okay, see you tomorrow then.” He nodded. “We’ll miss you, Rem.” 

He swallowed at that. “See you tomorrow.” 

Remus did not need any more torture. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep it together if you cuddled all over him like you often did before turning. Either to tease him or just to talk. The idea of the three of you resting on the same bed, was too much for him to handle tonight. Especially with all the thoughts already roaming in his head, the moon being so close wasn’t of help at all.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: Does anybody have some water? GC just got spicy! Hope you liked this chapter, I wanted their first time to be special, and somehow I ended with the softest Sirius ever, he's such a sweetheart, my heart will explode

Read more Marauders Fiction

[foreverisntenough]

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Chapter 9 - His Angel | ‘Act II’

word count - 12k

One evening, while at a friend’s party, things boiled over. Jude was already on edge, his emotions raw and barely contained. Toby had been trying to talk him down, saying it wasn’t worth getting upset over, but it only fueled Jude’s frustration. 

“She was probably just waiting till you filled her wardrobe up,” Toby said casually, taking a swig of his drink, not fully understanding the depth of Jude’s turmoil. Jude froze, the words striking a nerve he hadn’t even realized was so exposed. He narrowed his eyes, the anger building inside him. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.Toby shrugged, not sensing the shift in Jude’s mood. 

“I mean, come on, mate. You think she’s ignoring you because she’s heartbroken? Girls like that move on fast. She’s probably prepping for the next season—new baller, new clothes, new Instagram posts. You know how it is.” Toby chuckled a little like this was obvious. 

“Are you serious right now?” he growled, stepping toward Toby. “You think she was just some girl using me? Using me for fucking social media clout?” Jude snapped. His fist clenched, the frustration of everything—the uncertainty, the silence, the way you left—pushed him over the edge. Toby looked taken aback by Jude’s sudden aggression.

“Hey, relax, mate. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just saying...the whole thing’s been, what, a holiday fling? You’re just trying to make yourself feel better because you’re finally realizing what this was. You’ll be fine, bro. Take a breath and move on. You said yourself you’re still the same lad… before and after Y/N.” The words hit Jude like a punch to the gut. The idea that this was just a fling, something temporary, something you’d move on from, sent him into a blind rage. He shoved Toby back, his voice rising as his emotions bubbled over. 

“You don’t know anything about her or what we have!” Jude shouted, his face twisted in anger. “It’s not some fling, yeah? I fucking love her!” The room went silent. Toby stared at Jude, wide-eyed and speechless. He had never seen Jude like this—so raw, so vulnerable. It was clear this wasn’t just some casual relationship for Jude. His feelings for you ran deeper than anyone had realized, maybe even deeper than Jude himself had admitted before.

“You...you love her? Wow.” He asked, his voice soft, the shock evident in his tone. Toby blinked, trying to process what Jude had just said Jude, still seething, ran a hand over his face, realizing what he had just admitted in the heat of the moment. His chest heaved, the intensity of his emotions crashing over him like a wave. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, quieter now, almost like he couldn’t believe it himself. “I love her.” For a moment, neither of them said anything. Toby, still stunned, finally nodded, understanding dawning on him. 

“I didn’t know, mate,” he said softly. “I didn’t realize it was like that.” Jude slumped down on the couch, his anger subsiding into a heavy, aching feeling in his chest. 

“Yeah, well...I fucked it up so now the girl I love left.” His voice cracked slightly, the weight of his own words settling in. He had messed up. He had pushed you away, and now you were gone. And for the first time, he was admitting—out loud—that he was in love with you, and he might have lost you for good. Jude got up and left the room, his heart racing and his mind spinning. He found an empty bedroom down the hall, pushed open the door, and sat heavily on the edge of the bed. His hands raked over his hair, pulling at the roots as if that would somehow release the pent-up frustration. Everything inside him was burning—anger, regret, sadness, but more than anything, pain. Moments later, the door creaked open. Toby hesitated for a moment before stepping in, the awkward tension filling the air. He cleared his throat. 

"Do you... do you really love her, mate?" He asked. Jude didn’t look up, his shoulders hunched as he stared at the floor. Toby, trying to lighten the mood, let out a small, nervous laugh. "I mean, I never thought we’d get past having school crushes. You know? Didn’t think you’d actually—"

"Shut up, Toby," Jude snapped, his voice thick with emotion. The lightheartedness grated against the rawness he felt. This wasn’t a joke. Not to him.

"Sorry, man. I didn’t mean—" Toby's smile faded. 

"It’s not funny." Jude’s voice cracked. His chest heaved as he tried to gather the words, his hands gripping the edge of the bed tightly. "You don’t get it. You don’t understand how much it hurts being apart from her. It’s like...it’s like breathing is harder when she’s not around. Everything is harder." His voice broke, the vulnerability he had tried to suppress for so long spilling out now that the dam had burst. Toby stood in stunned silence, his eyes widening as he watched his usually composed friend unravel. He had never seen Jude like this—so utterly broken. He wasn’t sure what to say. Jude continued, his voice softer but filled with despair. "When she’s around, everything feels lighter, man. She... she’s this perfect angel, and when she’s there, she makes everything easier. I didn’t realize how much I relied on her until she left." His fists clenched, and he let out a shaky breath. "I pushed her away. I hurt her, and now she’s gone, and I don’t know how to fix it." Toby took a cautious step closer, seeing the tears welling in Jude’s eyes. He had always known Jude to be strong, unshakable, but now? Now he was witnessing the depths of Jude’s emotions, the sheer gravity of what this relationship meant to him. Jude blinked rapidly, fighting to keep the tears from falling, but they slipped down his cheeks anyway. "You don’t know what it feels like. My heart... it’s in so much pain, and it’s my fault. I did this." His voice cracked again, the weight of his guilt crushing him. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, but the tears kept coming. Toby finally sat down next to him, completely out of his depth but trying to be there. He placed a hesitant hand on Jude’s shoulder. 

"I had no idea it was like this, man. I’m sorry, bro. I didn’t realize she meant so much to you." Toby spoke. Jude shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"I knew. I knew and I ignored it... until it was too late." He let out a deep, shuddering breath. "I’m in love with her, and I pushed her away. Now, I don’t know if she’ll ever come back." Toby sat there, unsure of what to say, but knowing that this was the most serious, the most real, he had ever seen Jude. The magnitude of what had just unfolded between them was undeniable. Jude wasn’t just heartbroken—he was devastated, and it was clear that losing you was his worst fear coming true. Jude sat on the edge of the bed, his emotions swirling like a storm. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, but the weight of it all was too much. His hands gripped the duvet beneath him, knuckles white with frustration and sadness. Toby wasn’t sure if he should stay or leave. Jude—the cool, calm guy who always had it together—was now unraveling in front of him, and Toby had no clue how to help.

"So… love her? You sure? Maybe you’re just.. I don’t know, mate. Just take a breath here, yeah?”  Toby spoke, this time softer, without the nervous laugh from earlier. He thought maybe Jude was stressed, maybe he had drinks Toby didn’t see, he wasn’t sure. This felt foreign.  Jude didn’t answer right away. He just stared at the floor, eyes glassy with unshed tears. 

"You don’t know her, Toby." Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, but every word was loaded with meaning. 

“What do you mean? I’ve met her. She seems nice. But you know, maybe—" Toby frowned, confused by the response

"No." Jude cut him off, looking up at Toby for the first time, his eyes blazing with emotion. "You don’t know her." He wiped his face roughly, trying to rein in the tears that kept threatening to fall. "She’s...she’s not what you think. Not just some girl I picked up while on holiday, not some girl after my lifestyle. You have no idea." Toby stayed quiet, realizing Jude wasn’t just venting. He was confessing something very real. Jude shook his head, his voice thick with emotion. "She’s so much more. She’s strong, yeah, but... behind that strength, behind this thick wall she puts up, she’s soft, man. So soft. It’s like... like there’s this glass around her, and you’d never know how delicate she is unless you’re lucky enough to be let in. And I was." His voice cracked again, but he kept going. "I was the lucky one. She let me in, and I didn’t even realize how much of a privilege that was. I took it all for granted." Toby was silent, his earlier casual attitude completely gone. He could see now that this wasn’t just about a girl or a fling. This was something deep, something Jude had been hiding, maybe even from himself. Jude rubbed his temples, frustration clear in his every movement. "She’s... she’s perfect, Tobs. I mean, not in the way you’re thinking. Of course, she’s fit but she’s perfect in all the little ways that matter. The way she smiles when she thinks I’m not looking, the way she laughs at my dumb jokes, even when they’re not funny. And when she talks about something she loves, it’s like the whole world disappears. I’d be lucky to even have a chance to hear her talk about a painting for hours." Toby shifted, unsure of what to say, but Jude wasn’t done. His voice grew more intense as he continued. "You don’t know what it’s like to have someone like that. Someone who makes you feel like... like you’re not just another guy, like you’re special and not special in the way the whole world perceives you to be. Special in a way because of everything but that. And I messed it up. I pushed her away because I was scared. Scared of how much she means to me." Jude’s fists clenched, his breathing ragged as the emotion took hold again. "You don’t get it, Toby. When she’s not around, when she’s not there to lighten the load. She’s... she’s my angel, man. And I don’t know if I’ve lost her for good."Toby’s eyes narrowed at the weight of Jude’s words sinking in. Jude wasn’t just in love—he was consumed by it.

"Mate..." Toby started, trying to find the right words. "I really had no idea. You should’ve said something. I’m sorry I piled on. You’re Jude though, girl stuff always works out for you.” He gave him a sympathetic smile. Jude shook his head in disagreement. You were not another girl and he should’ve told you that because he knew it. Toby could feel his despair radiating off him. “I know I give you shit but you should’ve told me. I would’ve listened, I… I would’ve… I don’t know maybe treated her a bit differently knowing she wasn’t just passing through. I didn’t know you two were like that… honest.” Toby sighed a bit consumer by guilt that he hadn’t seen it.  

"Of course you didn’t," Jude muttered, shaking his head. "No one did. I kept it hidden because I didn’t want to seem weak. But now? Now, it’s all crashing down, and I don’t know what to do. I’ve hurt her, Toby. I’ve hurt the one person I’d do anything for." Jude’s eyes filled with tears again as he confessed, "I’ve never felt like this before. It’s not just about her being beautiful or smart or whatever. It’s about who she is when no one’s watching. How she holds everything together, how she let me in when she didn’t have to. And now… fuck." Toby couldn't wrap his head around this. A big part of it being that Jude had been playing two roles. One for everyone else and one for you. He sat next to Jude listening as his friend poured his heart out. Jude wiped at his eyes again, trying to stop the tears from falling. "I love her, Tobs," Jude said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I love her so much that it hurts. And now she’s gone. I really fucking love her." Toby squeezed Jude’s shoulder gently, realizing that this was more than just a rough patch. Jude had found something rare, something deep, and in his mind, he had lost it all.

The stillness of the gallery felt almost oppressive as you sat there, staring at a message from Aurelian. The silence that had once been comforting now seemed suffocating. The familiar hum of the city outside didn’t reach you here, not in this moment. The world outside carried on, but in this space, in this moment, everything felt frozen. You hadn’t even realized you were holding your breath. Your hand trembled as you clutched your phone, reading and rereading the message.

‘Hey, chérie. Haven’t seen you around lately. Thought you disappeared or finally wised up and left Jude xx’

The words played on a loop in your mind. What was meant to be a lighthearted joke carried the weight of something far heavier. The irony, the bitter truth woven into those casual words, twisted something inside you. It wasn’t the joke itself—it was the reality behind it. You had left Jude. You had wised up, hadn’t you? You’d finally done what was necessary to protect yourself, hadn’t you? But why did it feel like anything but wisdom? You leaned back in your chair, staring blankly at the paintings in front of you. The half-finished piece seemed to mock you, its vibrant colors dulling in the dim light of the gallery. Your mind wandered back to Madrid, to the moment you stormed out of Jude’s house, his voice ringing in your head, the anger, the hurt, the finality of it all. It felt like a lifetime ago, yet the pain was still fresh, still raw. Your phone buzzed again, pulling you from the spiral of thoughts. Another message from Aurelian.

'Jude never said anything, so I wasn’t sure if you two were still a thing. I just wanted to let you know I’m having a party for my birthday. You should come. Jude’s invited too, but I figured you’re your own person, right? No pressure, just thought I’d throw it out there.'

You read the words once, twice, then a third time. It felt strange—foreign, almost—that Aurelian would reach out. You barely knew him beyond the surface level. He was Jude’s teammate, someone who existed in Jude’s world, not yours. Yet here he was, extending an invitation like none of that mattered. Like you mattered outside of Jude. A strange mix of emotions churned inside you—nausea, confusion, a flicker of something resembling hope, but mostly a gnawing emptiness. You weren’t sure why, but something about Aurelian’s message made your chest feel heavy. Maybe it was the idea that people already saw you and Jude as over, as if the relationship had never really meant anything. As if it was nothing but a fleeting moment in time. But it wasn’t fleeting for you. You hadn’t moved on. You couldn’t. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw his face—those dark, cheeky, expressive eyes that told you more than his words ever could. You saw the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, the way he said your name like it was something sacred. And now, all you had left was this void—a gaping hole where he used to be. You glanced back down at the screen, your finger hovering over the reply button. What could you even say? Did you even want to respond? Aurelian’s message, innocent as it was, brought everything crashing down on you all over again. You thought you were coping, thought you were getting through the pain, but the reality was you had simply buried it deep enough to pretend you were okay. And now, it was all bubbling back to the surface. You stood up, pacing the small gallery space, the echo of your footsteps the only sound in the room. Aurelian’s words replayed in your mind. 'Finally wised up and left Jude.' Was that how it looked to everyone else? Like you had made the smart, rational choice? Like leaving him was the right thing to do? But it didn’t feel right. It felt like a mistake—a colossal, gut-wrenching mistake. And now, here you were, standing alone in New York, trying to figure out where everything had gone so horribly wrong. You sank back into the chair, a wave of exhaustion crashing over you. Your hand moved instinctively to your phone, pulling up Jude’s Instagram. He hadn’t posted much since you left. Just a few cryptic photos—training shots, some scenic views of Madrid. Nothing personal, nothing that gave you any insight into how he was feeling.  You clicked back to Aurelian’s message, staring at the text. Your finger hovered over the keyboard, unsure of what to say or if you should even say anything at all. But then, almost without thinking, you typed a response.

'Hey, thanks for the invite. I’ve been back in New York for a while now… just needed some space from the fun in Madrid. Have had a lot of work to do.'

You stared at the message, fingers trembling. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was enough. You hit send, heart racing as you watched the message deliver. It was a small step, but it felt monumental. 

'I hadn’t heard about the party from Jude…'

You carefully added, hoping the implication was clear enough for Aurelian to realize that you weren’t in touch with Jude. That you weren’t even in Spain. You made sure to emphasize you were definitely your own person now. The reminder, more to yourself than to Aurelian, stung. You had almost let Jude take that from you—your independence, your sense of self, your confidence.You didn’t know about the party from Jude. In fact, you didn’t know what Jude had been doing at all. You had been intentionally distancing yourself from him, avoiding his social media and keeping your phone at arm’s length. But it was impossible not to indulge in the pain of checking his match results. You still couldn’t help it—typing and deleting messages to congratulate him on an assist or a goal, as if some part of you was still tethered to him, as if a simple 'good game' might somehow fix what was broken. When Aurelian had messaged you about his birthday party, you felt a sudden pang of confusion mixed with something else—an ache, maybe, or a resentment toward the situation you were in. The sting of realizing that Jude hadn’t told you anything about it cut deep, but you quickly reminded yourself that you weren’t in Madrid anymore. You weren’t part of that world, part of his world. Not anymore. When Aurelian responded again, the message caught you off guard. The tone was familiar, comfortable, but there was something about it that made you pause. Flirty? Maybe. Or maybe you just wanted it to be. 

'City's not as fun without you around. You’re your own person so just wanted to extend the invite to you but it was a stretch. I’ve always known you were in a league of your own.'

It was a compliment, for sure, and your heart fluttered a little. You weren’t sure how to feel about it—how you should feel about it. There was a part of you that felt guilty, as if entertaining the idea of anyone else, even casually, was some kind of betrayal to what you had with Jude. But there was also a part of you that felt validated, like you needed to hear that someone—anyone—still saw you as more than just the girl Jude had left behind.

'If you find yourself in Madrid for my birthday, it’d be the best present if you came through.'

You stared at the message, unsure whether to laugh or feel conflicted. He was obviously joking—at least, that’s what you told yourself. But the words lingered, hanging in the air, teasing the idea that maybe you weren’t just a footnote in Jude’s life. Maybe you could still be seen, desired, wanted, even in this limbo you were living in. What really stopped you in your tracks, though, were the last few lines. Aurelian switched to French, and the words hit you in a way that English never could. 

'J’espère que tu vas bien. Tu me manques, ton accent, tes blagues, nos conversations.' [I hope you are well. I miss you, your accent, your jokes, our conversations.]

Even though French was spoken around the world, it still felt like a secret code between the two of you.You reread the message, your heart twisting in your chest. French had always been a part of you—a piece of your identity that grounded you, that reminded you of home, of your family, of everything that existed before Madrid, before Jude. And now, here was Aurelian, using it to reach out to you in a way that felt intimate, like he understood more than you thought. You closed your eyes, letting the words wash over you, the familiarity of the language wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. There was something nostalgic and bittersweet about it, like you were being pulled back into a part of yourself that you had forgotten. Or maybe, a part of yourself that you had abandoned.

'Tu me manques.' [I miss you.]

You missed him, too. Not in the way you missed Jude, but you missed the life you had in Madrid—the conversations, the lightheartedness, the easy camaraderie with people like Aurelian, who didn’t make things so complicated. It felt simple, effortless. And right now, you were craving simplicity. You stared at your phone for what felt like hours, the cursor blinking in the empty text box. What could you even say? The idea of going back to Madrid seemed impossible, a fantasy. The thought of running into Jude again—of reopening those wounds—was too much to bear. And yet, the thought of staying away, of cutting yourself off completely, left you feeling hollow. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure of how to respond. You wanted to tell Aurelian that you missed the conversations too, that you missed speaking French, missed feeling like yourself. But the words wouldn’t come out. Instead, you typed something simple, something safe.

'Thank you for the invite. I’m not sure if I’ll make it back to Madrid anytime soon, but I appreciate it. Hope your birthday’s a good one. Joyeux anniversaire, beau garçon.' [Happy birthday, handsome boy.]

You sent the message before you could overthink it, and then you sat back, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. The weight of everything—Madrid, Jude, the mess you left behind—settled back into your chest. You didn’t know what was next, didn’t know how you were supposed to move forward. But for the first time in a long time, you realized that you didn’t have to have all the answers. Maybe it was okay to just exist for a little while, to find your footing again before diving back into the chaos.  As you sat there, your phone buzzed with another message from Aurelian. You didn’t open it right away. Instead, you allowed yourself to breathe, to sit in the stillness, to think about what you really wanted. Not what Jude wanted, or what Aurelian wanted, but what you wanted  Because in the end, you were your own person. And no one could take that from you.

When Whitney called to tell you she was going to see Jude this week, you felt a sharp pang in your chest. It wasn’t unexpected—after all, he was still part of her circle, somehow—but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. Your heart hurt, caught somewhere between jealousy and sadness, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the right words to respond.

“I just didn’t want you to be caught off guard,” she explained, her tone filled with concern. Whitney’s voice was careful, measured. You appreciated the gesture—her honesty, her care in telling you ahead of time—but that didn’t stop the dull ache from creeping up on you. You swallowed it down, trying to muster a neutral response.

“It’s fine,” you said, forcing the words out. “He’s your friend too, right?” There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then Whitney’s voice came through, more insistent this time. 

“No, he became my friend by proxy,” she clarified quickly, almost urgently. “You’ve always been my best friend. My loyalty is with you.”  That small distinction—her reassurance—eased the tightness in your chest, if only just a little. Whitney had always been your person, the one who knew your heart inside and out, and hearing her reinforce that was a reminder that you weren’t alone, even in the aftermath of everything. You sighed, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“Thank you,” you managed, but your voice wavered, the emotions rising up again. Before you could stop yourself, you stuttered, your words spilling out in a quiet, vulnerable rush. “Just… could you tell me if he’s okay? When you see him?” There was silence on the other end, but you knew Whitney. You knew she was processing the weight behind your words, the lingering feelings you had been trying so hard to suppress. You could practically feel her heart breaking for you, even across the ocean.

“I promise I will…” she said softly, her voice filled with the kind of empathy only a best friend could offer. You could hear the unspoken wish in her tone, the way she wished she could be there, in person, to wrap her arms around you and hold you through it all. “I hope he isn’t.” She sympathetically giggled. You smiled but bit your lip, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over.

 “I wish you were here,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The vulnerability of the moment caught you off guard, the way everything felt raw and exposed. Since Whitney moved it had been hard. You didn’t fault her any, in fact you encouraged her move to England but you missed her.

“I wish I could hug you right now,” Whitney said, her voice cracking just enough to reveal her own emotion. “But I’m here, okay? I’m always here, even if it’s over the phone.” You nodded, even though she couldn’t see you, and let the quiet between you settle like a balm on your aching heart. She offered to come be with you but you had work and she had Teddy. When you needed her you’d tell her.

When Whitney saw Jude, it was after an England international team friendly. Jude and Trent had gone out with some other friends for dinner, but eventually returned to Whitney’s house, where a group of footballers filled her living room. Despite the chaos, Jude slipped away from the group, finding Whitney alone in the kitchen. 

“Have you talked to her?” Jude hesitated for a second before he spoke.She was rinsing out a glass when he walked in, his presence behind her unmistakable.  Whitney turned off the sink, exhaling softly as she faced him. 

“Obviously, I have. You know I have,” she replied, her tone firmer than usual. There was no room for pleasantries. She had always been fiercely loyal to you, and this moment wasn’t any different.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, the weight of the words heavy. Jude stood there, not knowing what to say. His hands fidgeted at his sides, his eyes a little lost. 

“You should be,” she told him, the anger she felt for you evident in her voice. “You really fucked her over, Jude.” Whitney didn’t hold back, meeting his apology with the kind of brutal honesty only a best friend could deliver. The kitchen fell quiet, and while the silence felt tense, it was also thick with a shared understanding. Whitney had every reason to be mad. She had seen you through the worst of it, the heartbreak, the silence, the ache that wouldn’t go away. Jude felt the weight of her words sinking deeper into him. Despite her frustration, Whitney’s naturally nurturing side softened her posture after a while. She had always been a mix of fire and warmth, too kind for her own good at times. So, after the silence had stretched on, she rounded the kitchen island and sat next to him. Jude’s hands clenched into fists on his lap as he looked down, clearly torn.

“How is she?” he asked meekly, as if he was afraid of the answer. Whitney looked at him for a moment, her expression softening. She could see how broken he was, but her loyalty to you came first.  Your heart came first. 

“I’m supposed to tell you she’s fine without you…” She bit her lip and shook her head gently, her voice dropping. Jude’s face contorted in a grimace at those words, the thought of you being okay, of you not caring about him anymore, striking something deep in him. His jaw tightened as if he was fighting back something raw. “Jude… she’s hurt,” she finally admitted, her voice tender despite the situation. “You didn’t just treat her poorly. You led her on and you left her with questions she didn’t deserve.” Whitney saw the pain flash across his face and sighed. Whitney sighed, her frustration palpable as she tried to find the right words. She wasn’t the type to sugarcoat things, but she also didn’t want to completely crush Jude. Still, this wasn’t a situation where being nice felt easy or right. “She’s upset, Jude. You hurt her. You hurt someone who has never even put herself in a position to get hurt before. It was a massive deal that she was opening up to you. She was willing to hurt and you promised her you wouldn’t and yet here we are.” Whitney said, her voice carrying a heaviness that had been building since this whole mess began. Her eyes locked on him, trying to gauge how much he really understood. “Do you even know how much she liked you?” The question hung in the air, and Whitney’s stomach twisted as she waited for his response. She wasn’t just asking for you. She needed to know if Jude had even an inkling of what he’d lost, of how deep your feelings had been, and if he was capable of feeling anything in return.

“Subconsciously, I felt like I knew… but it scared me,” he admitted, his voice quiet, almost ashamed. “Because I think—I know—that I might’ve had even stronger feelings for her. But I didn’t know what to do with that. It scared me, Whit. Telling her, admitting it, would’ve meant growing up… leaving behind this life I knew I was good at.” Jude ran his hands over his face, frustration and regret etched across his features.  He looked down at the floor, almost as if he couldn’t bear to face the truth of his own words. “I don’t know anything about real relationships, and I know she doesn’t deserve anything less,” he added, the words almost a whisper. Whitney sighed again, softer this time, and reached out, picking up his hand.

“Every relationship is different, Jude, so I can’t speak for yours but none of us know what we’re doing at first. We’re all going in blind.” Her fingers tightened around his, a gesture more sisterly than anything, as she looked him square in the eyes. She paused, trying to give him space to let her words sink in. “But eventually,” she continued, “things get crystal clear. You figure it out. But you’ve got to be brave enough to take that step, to risk it. You’ve hurt her so much by not even trying. You’ve been playing it safe because you think you’re good at the life you had before her, but… you’re not that guy anymore, are you?” Jude shook his head. He had told Toby he was but he knew he wasn't. He wasn’t the guy he was ahead of that Greece holiday. His expression twisted, the words cutting deeper than he wanted to admit. He did feel stupid. 

“I’m an idiot,” he muttered. He felt reckless for how he handled things with you, for not being able to face his feelings, for choosing a fleeting life of surface-level connections over something real, something lasting.

“Yeah, but we like you…” Whitney took a deep breath. “Jude… She really really likes you.” Whitney paused. She wasn’t going to say something for you but she knew you loved him.

"I bet she told you to kick me out." His voice was quieter. Jude shifted uncomfortably, his hands still fidgeting as he looked at Whitney.  Whitney glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite the tension in the air. 

"I offered," she said with a playful edge, trying to cut through the heavy mood, knowing he needed something lighter for a moment. Jude’s lips curved into a genuine smile, the first one he had managed in what felt like forever. "But you know her. She’s not like that... especially with you."  Whitney quickly clarified, her smile fading into something more serious. 

"Yeah," he murmured. "I know." Jude nodded, the weight of those words sinking in. Whitney hesitated for a beat.

"Y/N… she asked me to make sure you were okay." She explained. Jude’s heart clenched, his chest tightening at the thought that, after everything, you still cared enough to ask about him. The sound of your name, even in passing, nearly undid him. His throat felt thick, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak.

"She… she asked about me?" Jude’s voice broke slightly, his face a mask of conflicted emotions—relief, guilt, regret. He wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse. He couldn’t say your name though it hurt too much and it pinged in his brain that this could’ve all been avoided if he had just grown up and said it. 

"Yeah. As much as you’ve hurt her, she still wants to know you’re alright." Whitney nodded slowly. Jude let out a long, shaky breath. He was crumbling from the inside, the realization of just how much he had messed up crashing down on him like a tidal wave. 

"What do I do, Whit?" he asked, his voice full of desperation. Whitney sighed deeply, walking around the counter and enveloping him in a hug. He felt like a lost kid in that moment, someone who had made a mess but wasn’t sure how to clean it up. She rubbed his back and let out a breath of her own before she stepped back and met his eyes.

"I want to help you, Jude. I really do," she said, her voice laced with compassion but also firm. "If I tell you what to do… well then I should be the one seeing her.” Whitney smiled. “But you’ve got to make a decision for yourself. Take action, real action, on your own." Jude swallowed hard, sensing there was more she wanted to say. And there was. "If you can’t put in the effort on your own merit…" Whitney hesitated, hating that she even had to say it, but she knew it was the truth you needed to hear. "Maybe it’s not right for her. Maybe you don’t deserve her." Jude’s face fell, his eyes shutting tightly against the sting of her words. They were brutal, but he knew deep down they were right. Every step he had taken up until now had been half-hearted, marked by insecurity and fear. But those steps had led him to lose you.

"I know," he whispered, the admission feeling like the hardest thing he’d ever said. He opened his eyes, filled with determination but clouded by regret. "I’m going to fix it. I have to fix it all." Whitney watched him, hoping against hope that this time he meant it—not in the shallow, fleeting way he’d tried to patch things up before, but genuinely. She could see the fight in him, but she had seen it before, and it had never been enough. Jude was always good at grand gestures, but this time, she needed him to be good at the small, meaningful actions too.

"You better mean it this time," Whitney said, though her voice was softer now, more gentle than before. She wanted to believe him. Jude stood up straighter, his fists unclenching as he let out a long breath. 

"I do. I swear, I’ll do it right." He pulled Whitney into a hug, one filled with unspoken gratitude. When they pulled apart, Jude asked, "But will you help? With the… you know, the finer details. The stuff that isn’t make-or-break, but would… I don’t know, make it all feel special. Like, a nice gloss over the top?" Whitney smiled softly, shaking her head at his typical Jude manner of wanting things to be perfect, even in chaos. 

"Of course, of course," she said, her voice warmer now, filled with the hope she had buried earlier. "You know I’m a sucker for a good love story." Jude chuckled lightly, though the gravity of the situation never really left. 

"Thanks, Whit. I’ll figure out the rest. I have to. For her." Whitney gave him one last encouraging squeeze on the shoulder, her voice soft. 

"Make sure it’s not just about fixing things, Jude. Make sure it’s about growing up. Loving her for real. You owe her that." Jude nodded, his eyes serious, carrying the weight of everything he had lost and everything he still had to prove. Whitney stood there, watching as he steeled himself, silently praying that this time, he’d really be the man you deserved.The air in the kitchen was still thick with uncertainty, Whitney hoped more than anything that this wasn’t just another fleeting attempt. You deserved more than that. As Jude stood there, lost in the weight of his thoughts, Trent strolled into the kitchen with his usual easygoing smile. Without missing a beat, he threw his arms around Jude in a goofy hug. 

"Wow baby, really been bulking up, huh?" Trent teased, pulling back and laughing at his own dad joke.

"You’re hilarious." Jude let out a small, tired chuckle, shaking Trent off him along with a disapproving kiss of his teeth.  Whitney, standing nearby, smiled, rolling her eyes at Trent’s antics. She could always count on him to bring lightness to the room, even when things felt heavy. Trent playfully shoved Jude in the shoulder before turning to wrap his arms around Whitney, kissing her cheek in that affectionate, natural way of his.

“You know, mate, it’ll be alright. If you work at it." As he pulled away, he turned back to Jude, his expression softening, but still carrying that calm confidence Trent always had. Jude glanced at him, taking in his words. There was something comforting in how Trent said it, like a quiet reminder that not everything was lost. But it was the way Trent looked at Whitney when he spoke that made Jude stop and really listen. Trent kissed Whitney on the cheek again, grinning as she rolled her eyes but smiled at him all the same. "Good ones," Trent added, his eyes still on Whitney, "take work." Jude's chest tightened, his eyes flickering between the two of them. There was an undeniable truth in Trent’s words, something simple but powerful. He could see it in the way Trent looked at Whitney, the ease of their relationship, built on years of effort, love, and mutual care. It wasn’t easy, but it was real. Jude swallowed hard, nodding slowly as the realization sank deeper. He had to work for it. He had to fight for it. You were worth that, more than worth it.

"Yeah," Jude murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "I know." Trent clapped him on the back, a supportive gesture that said more than words could. Jude gave him a faint smile, appreciating the quiet wisdom in the moment. It wasn’t going to be easy, but nothing worth having ever was. As Trent and Whitney shared a look, both of them hoping Jude would finally figure out what he needed to do, Jude stood there, taking in the moment. He felt a spark of something he hadn’t in a while—hope. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to start fixing things.

Your apartment was quiet, too quiet. It felt suffocating in the silence that followed your final goodbye to Jude. The words had spilled from your lips before you could stop them, before you could even fully comprehend them. 'I’m done,' you had said, your voice cold, detached. But when you returned home, the weight of it all came crashing down. You hadn’t meant it— maybe not entirely, a part of you knew very well that you wouldn’t ever be ‘done’ with Jude. But your heart was bleeding beneath all the bandages you were trying to wrap it in, and you didn’t know how to stop the pain. Jude had hurt you, over and over, and now it felt like the only thing you could do was push him away before he could break you further. The worst part was that when you told him you were done, you broke your own heart even more. Sitting on your bed, you buried your face in your hands, trying to hold back the sobs that were already clawing their way up your throat. You never cried before you had met Jude. You were always the strong one, always the one to hold it together. But Jude had shattered that, broken down every wall you’d spent years building. Since you met him, it felt like you’d done nothing but cry. Your chest heaved as the tears came anyway, silent and unstoppable. You wanted the world to swallow you up, to take the pain away because it was too much to bear. You were drowning in the ache, in the loss, in the thought that maybe, just maybe, you had lost the one person who made you feel like you were truly seen.

On the other side of the Atlantic, Jude sat in his own room, staring blankly at the floor. His phone was in his hand, the screen dark now, but your voice—your words—echoed in his head. 'I’m done.' He hadn’t believed it, not at first. But the longer he sat there, the more it sank in. You were really gone. He felt like the world had shifted beneath him, like he was untethered, drifting in a void. Everything was harder without you. Breathing, moving, thinking—everything felt like a monumental effort. You had become a part of him, and now that part was ripped away, leaving him raw and exposed. Jude ran a hand over his hair, frustration and despair mixing in a sickening cocktail of emotions. He’d tried to make you understand how much you meant to him, but he’d failed. Words weren’t nearly enough. He had pushed you away without even realizing it, and now he was paying the price. You were his everything, and he had let you slip through his fingers.

In your apartment, you curled up on the bed, pulling the covers around you as if they could shield you from the emptiness that was swallowing you whole. Your heart ached, every beat a reminder of what you had lost—or rather, what you had forced yourself to lose. Jude was still there, in the back of your mind, in every corner of your soul, but you had pushed him away. You had to. It was the only way to protect yourself. It felt like you were dying inside. You had never loved anyone the way you loved Jude. It hit you like a tidal wave, the realization slamming into you with full force. This was love. This was what all the poets and songwriters and dreamers talked about. The kind of love that took everything from you and gave you everything in return. The kind of love that tore you apart and put you back together, all at once. And you were pushing it away.

Jude stayed sat, tears burning in his eyes as he stared at the floor. He had never wanted anything as much as he wanted you. But now, the distance between you felt insurmountable. The silence was deafening, the space between you growing with every minute that passed. It was as if you were moving in parallel, both of you hurting, both of you broken, but never able to meet in the middle. That was the cruelest thing about parallel lines—they never intersect. No matter how close they run, they remain apart.

You sobbed into your pillow, your chest tight with the weight of it all. You had found love—real, heart-wrenching, soul-deep love—and now, like a masochist, you were destroying it because you couldn’t bear his idiodic behavior. You were so mad that Jude had made it so hard. You had pushed him away, told him you were done, when the truth was you were anything but. You loved him more than you had ever thought possible, and it terrified you.  And now you were alone, both of you suffering, both of you desperate for the other, but too afraid, too hurt to bridge the gap. The world outside moved on, oblivious to the two souls shattered in their separate spaces, each aching, each lost. And for the first time, you weren’t sure if you would ever find your way back to each other.

Jude and Aurelian were running through a drill at training, side by side, both focused on the task at hand but equally caught in conversation. 

"So, when's she coming back to Madrid?" Aurelian casually asked. Jude, distracted by the passing drill, shot him a quick glance. 

"Who?" He knew exactly who Aurelian was talking about, but his chest tightened at the thought of you.

"You know, her. I mentioned the party, but it seemed like she hadn’t heard about it." Aurelian’s voice was light, but there was something behind it, like he wasn’t just asking casually. Jude’s brow furrowed as he made another pass.

“What party?” Jude’s voice was sharp, unable to mask the frustration brewing inside him. Aurelian shrugged, chasing after the ball. 

"My birthday, bro. I invited her. She said she was working a lot lately, though, seemed busy." His words were clipped between breaths as he jogged alongside Jude, unaware of the storm building. Jude’s steps faltered for a second. He missed a beat, his mind racing. 

"How do you know that?" His voice came out more demanding than he meant. Aurelian gave him a side glance. 

"I told you. I invited her to my birthday. She's her own person, no? Inviting you wouldn't mean I invited her." He tossed the comment lightly, but Jude could feel the weight of it sinking into him. With minimal thought, Jude rocketed the ball towards the goal, but it went flying high, way over the post, disappearing into the stands. Aurelian noticed the change in Jude’s demeanor immediately—his body stiffened, and his expression darkened. Aurelian felt the shift, sensing the tension wasn’t really aimed at him but at something much bigger. The ball wasn't the only thing that had skyrocketed—Jude’s emotions had clearly spun out of control. Jude’s jealousy was practically radiating off him. "You alright?" Aurelian asked, trying to gauge how deep this ran. He could feel the heat of Jude’s anger simmering under the surface. Jude clenched his fists, trying to ground himself, but his thoughts were spinning. You were talking to everyone—Whitney, Trent, Winnie—but not him. And now, Aurelian? The fact that you were having conversations with someone he trained with daily, sharing things about your life, things that Jude felt he should know, made his blood boil.

"Yeah, I’m fine," Jude muttered, but his face was hard, his jaw tight. He wasn’t fine. Far from it. Aurelian nodded but didn’t push. He could feel the jealousy rolling off Jude in waves, and while he didn’t want to be the source of it, he understood. After all, it was clear Jude still had feelings for you. Jude’s mind raced as they continued their drills, his body on autopilot while his thoughts spun out of control. You hadn’t mentioned the party to him. You hadn’t mentioned anything. It felt like everyone in his life knew more about you than he did, and it stung.  Aurelian’s words echoed in his head: ‘She's her own person after all.’ That statement rattled him more than anything else. Jude, feeling the heat of jealousy and confusion, was quick to blurt out, "So, are you trying to pursue something with her?" His voice cracked slightly as he tried to maintain a calm exterior, but it was evident that his emotions were getting the best of him. Aurelian stopped mid-drill, looking at Jude like he’d lost his mind. 

“What? No, bro. I mean, yeah, she’s sexy.” Jude winced. “She’s really attractive but… you were with her, weren’t you? Or at least, you were.” He shrugged, baffled at the insinuation. But Jude, unable to stop himself, continued to ramble. His words came out fast, almost panicked, as if saying them out loud would somehow justify his own feelings or even ease the burning jealousy coursing through him.

"I get it, you both speak French and all, but do you even know what she’s like? She’s way too good for—" He stopped, realizing what he was about to say. Aurelian raised an eyebrow, intrigued but letting Jude continue. Jude, realizing he’d opened Pandora’s box, kept talking, listing all the reasons why you were amazing, how intelligent you were, how thoughtful and creative. He rambled about your quirks, how you liked your coffee with just the right amount of cream, how you’d stay up late sketching, your laugh, your ridiculous but charming wit. His voice cracked as he started talking about how you deserved someone who would pay attention to all of that, someone who would cherish every part of you, never take you for granted. And then it hit him—he was describing all the ways he should have taken care of you. The way he should have been with you from the start. The way you deserved to be treated. He froze, mid-sentence, the weight of it all crashing down on him. The image of you floated in his mind, standing there with that duffel bag your dad had gifted you, and how you’d once described it with such admiration. You’d talked about how it was made with so much care, each detail meticulously thought out, each stitch precise. Jude realized, in that moment, that the way he should’ve treated you was the same way you described that duffel bag. With reverence. With attention to detail. With care. And he hadn’t. Before Jude could even process the revelation, Aurelian laughed, stepping up to the ball and striking it with precision. It sailed smoothly into the goal, perfectly nestled into the net. At the same time, Jude's shot, born from frustration and confusion, clanged hard off the crossbar, echoing through the empty training ground. The sound hung in the air, sharp and unforgiving. Call it irony.

"You know, Jude," he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead, "clearly, she is too good for you."  Aurelian turned back to Jude, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Jude's eyes snapped to Aurelian’s, his chest tightening. Aurelian continued, his voice calm but pointed, "You had a wide-open goal, mate, and all you’ve done is hit the post." The metaphor hit Jude harder than the ball hitting the crossbar. He stood there, speechless, the truth of Aurelian’s words sinking in. You were too good for him. You were always too good for him, and in his insecurity, he’d let you slip through his fingers. Jude's hands clenched into fists by his sides once more, frustration burning in his chest. Aurelian was right. Jude had the perfect opportunity, the perfect person, and he fumbled it. Now, you were talking to other people—Aurelian, Whitney, Trent—and he was stuck watching from the sidelines, knowing he had no one to blame but himself. Aurelian watched Jude’s face, the conflict playing out in his features. With a more serious tone, he added, “Look, bro, it’s not about me. It never was. But if you don’t get your head on straight, someone’s going to step up and treat her right. Maybe not me, but someone will. You’ve got to figure out if you're gonna be that person—or keep missing the goal.” Jude swallowed hard, the weight of the realization crashing down on him like a tidal wave. He had to fix this. But for the first time, he wasn’t sure if it was even possible. You deserved more than he’d given, and if he didn’t act soon, you’d find someone who would.

You had ignored Jude for ages but he continually checked in with Whitney to at least make sure you had a pulse. He had thought about calling or texting a million times but he just couldn’t do it. It felt too menial.  In a haze of exhaustion and heartbreak Jude decided to send you a gift. Jude had never bought art before, but this time, he knew it had to be different. Jewelry or a purse wouldn’t cut it; they were too shallow, too ordinary. He needed something that spoke to you, something that communicated how he felt in a way words never could. That’s how he found himself diving into the unfamiliar world of art, navigating galleries, and dealers, determined to find something that would reflect the depth of his feelings for you. 

So when a large package arrived at your door, the deliveryman insisting on a signature, you were understandably confused. The box was massive, covered in bold warning labels about careful handling. Your heart raced with a mix of curiosity and confusion as you brought it inside. It was no ordinary package. As you carefully unboxed it, peeling away layer after layer, you finally revealed the painting. It was large, vibrant, alive with a serene energy that filled the room. Jules Olitski’s 'Beauty of Angels'. Your jaw dropped. For a moment, you wondered if it had been sent to the wrong address, maybe meant for your gallery. But even then, it was impossible to fathom—it was priceless.  You stood there, staring at the painting. It was contemporary, beautiful, and yet, somehow serene. The way the colors seemed to dance across the canvas, soft and yet striking—it felt like it was holding something deeper, something that called out to your soul.  And then, you noticed the card. A small, simple envelope tucked beside the frame. Your fingers trembled as you opened it reading the title of the work, Beauty of Angels. Your heart shattered. Jude. He had sent this. The title of the painting felt like a punch to the chest. You weren’t supposed to be his angel. Not after everything. Not after the hurt and betrayal that still clung to the edges of your relationship. And yet, here you were, standing before this breathtaking piece of art that he had chosen for you. You held the card in your hand, staring down at it, feeling a wave of emotions rush through you—pain, longing, confusion, and an ache that you hadn’t let yourself feel in weeks. It was a grand gesture, yes, but it was more than that. It was his way of trying to communicate, to reach you in a way that words had failed. But the irony of it all was almost too much to bear. You didn’t feel like anyone’s angel. If anything, you felt further from it than you ever had before. The cracks in your heart, the jagged edges of your hurt, made you feel anything but angelic. And yet, here was Jude, sending you something so personal, so profound. It was like he had seen something in you that you couldn’t see in yourself anymore. You stood there, your heart aching as you looked at the painting again. It was beautiful, yes. But it also felt like a reminder of everything you had lost. Of everything that had once been and everything that could never be again. The room felt heavy with the weight of it all, and you had to sit down, the card still clutched in your hand. The painting stared back at you, a testament to how Jude saw you—even now, even after everything. But was it enough? Could it ever be enough to heal the wounds, to fix what had been broken? You weren’t sure. But for the first time in a long while, you let yourself feel the sadness, the longing, and the love you still had for him. The painting was beautiful, but the emotions it stirred in you were even more powerful.  And despite everything, a part of you couldn’t help but wish you were still his angel. Even though you knew you weren’t.

You stared at the painting for what felt like an eternity pacing around it and your apartment for what felt like hours, the walls feeling like they were closing in on you. The city buzzed outside, cars honking, people shouting, but you were lost in the quiet chaos of your thoughts. Jude's name glowed on your phone screen, your thumb hovering over the call button. Every second that passed felt like another nail in the coffin of whatever this had been between you two.  Weeks had gone by since you left Madrid, and the memories still cut deep. That night. The arguments. The coldness in his eyes when he couldn't even say your name. You hadn't intended to call him today; you told yourself that the space was necessary, that you needed to move on. But the ache in your chest never went away, and you couldn’t hold back any longer. You wanted closure. No—you needed it. You needed to hear him admit that it had all been for nothing, that you hadn’t meant what you thought you did. Finally, your thumb pressed down, and the phone rang. Each ring was like a countdown to the moment you weren’t sure you could handle. The silence between you was about to be broken at last. When he finally answered, his voice came through soft, tentative. 

“Y/N,” Jude’s voice was soft, full of emotion that he had been hiding from you until now. “I’ve missed you… so much.” Just hearing his voice made your heart skip. For a brief moment, all the hurt and anger melted away, and it felt like home. Like all those nights lying beside him, talking about nothing, just listening to the sound of his breath as he slept next to you. But that feeling was fleeting, replaced quickly by the cold reality that had driven you both apart.

"Hi," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, but you could hear the waver in it. You had told yourself this was going to be a calm conversation, a way to smooth things over, to leave on good terms. But the minute you heard him, all the old wounds felt fresh again. “I’m sorry I left the way I did.”  Your own voice catching slightly. A part of you raged that you just apologized to him. Another part of you wondered if he had slept with someone else to relieve the blue balls you had left him with. 

“I’m sorry I gave you a reason to leave,” Jude replied, his sincerity evident. “I should’ve told you what you mean to me, but I was scared. I still am, but I can’t stand not talking to you.” You felt your heart swell with a mix of emotions—relief, sadness, hope. 

“I was scared too, Jude. I didn’t want to get hurt but you’ve hurt me anyway though.” You sighed. This conversation almost felt like it was too quick for you though. Jude was too eager to fix it all. 

“There’s been a lot of hurt lately…” Jude began and that planted a seed. “ I don’t want to hurt you,” Jude said, his voice firm despite the vulnerability behind it. “I want to make things right. I want to be the man you need, Y/N.” There was a pause, both of you taking in the weight of what had been said. This wasn’t an easy fix, but it was a start—a chance to bridge the gap that had formed between you.

“I don’t know what happens next,” you finally said, your voice steady.

“I’m not letting go of this,” Jude replied, determination in his voice. “I’m not letting go of you.” And with that, the silence between you was broken, the first steps toward something new, something real, finally being taken. As the phone call continued, the initial relief you felt from hearing Jude’s voice began to dissipate. Jude’s voice, which had always been so steady, so confident, now carried a different tone—one you weren't prepared for. “Y/N,” Jude began, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “I’ve been thinking… a lot, actually. I don’t want to lose you. I want to give this a real shot. I like you, Y/N. More than I’ve ever liked anyone.” You felt your heart shrivel up in that moment. You wanted an 'I love you.' Those words hung in the air, and instead of bringing comfort, they sent a cold rush through your veins. Suddenly, everything felt too real, too fast. Your mind snapped back to all the things you’d been trying to ignore—the doubts, the fears, the reasons you’d tried to keep Jude at arm’s length.

“No,” you blurted out, your voice sharper than you intended. “I can’t do this, Jude. Look, I appreciate the painting, it’s amazing and so thoughtful but I just can’t.” It was like the walls Jude had broken down, the ones that you were currently working on building back up were encased in steel buried deep in the ground now.

“What do you mean?” Jude asked, confusion and hurt beginning to seep into his voice. “Why not?”

“It’s just… it’s all stupid, Jude,” you said, your voice cracking with a mix of frustration and fear. “This whole thing—it’s just been stupid sex.” Jude felt like the ground had been pulled out from under him. You didn’t believe that in totality but you needed to pull the plug. 

“Stupid sex? Y/N, you know it’s more than that.” Jude was so offended. He knew he was in the wrong but god did it hurt to hear you say that.  Why did you call then? When he saw your name appear on his phone he thought the chasm had begun to yield. 

“Is it?” You shot back, your emotions spiraling out of control. “Or am I just another one of your conquests? Another girl you’ll get bored of and move on from? Another girl you treat like shit. It took you no time at all really to find another one of me.” You snapped.

“That’s not true,” Jude insisted, desperation creeping into his tone. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Y/N. You’re different.” He felt sick to his stomach. 

“Different?” You echoed, your voice rising. “How am I different, Jude? You think I don’t know what you’re really like? I know about all the women before me, the playboy lifestyle. You’re just saying this now because you’re used to getting what you want, and you can’t stand the idea of someone saying no to you.” Jude was reeling, struggling to keep up with the barrage of accusations. 

“Y/N, that’s not fair. I know I’ve made mistakes, but it’s different with you. I’m not trying to play games. I want to be with you—really be with you.” He mused in panic. His voice was shaking.  But you couldn’t hear him over the roar of her own insecurities. You felt tears burning in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You wouldn’t let yourself be vulnerable, not now, not anymore.

“No, Jude,” you said, your voice trembling with the effort of holding yourself together. “It’s too much. I don’t want this—I don’t want you.” You cried, your heart breaking for the millionth time.  It hurt saying something you didn't entirely believe. You did want Jude.

“Y/N, don’t do this,” Jude pleaded, his heart breaking alongside yours with every word you spoke. “Please, don’t push me away.” But it was too late. The walls you had built around your heart were snapping back into place, and you couldn’t let yourself break them down again.

“All I do is cry not. You shouldn’t make me cry!” you said, your voice breaking as tears began to stream down your face. “I never cry. This isn’t what I want, Jude. I’m sorry.” You apologized and you weren’t sure why. Jude was silent, the weight of your words settling like a stone on his chest. He wanted to fight for you, to convince you that you could make this work, but the pain in your voice was too much to bear.

“I don't want to make you cry. I’m sorry,” he finally whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I’m really glad you called though," Jude said, his voice quieter now, as if he were afraid to say too much. He was trying to revert the conversation back on course. "I’ve been thinking about you. About… us though." The way he said "us" made your stomach churn. Us. Was there ever really an us? Or had it just been you, constantly trying to be enough, constantly trying to get him to see you? All you ever wanted was for him to acknowledge what you were to him, but he never could. And now, hearing him say those words, that he had been thinking about us, it made your anger flare.

"Jude," you began, taking a deep breath, "what are we even doing?" There was tension in your tone. There had been a momentary lull but you were about to kick off in a way Jude probably wasn’t prepared for. 

"What do you mean?" His voice tightened, like he already knew where this was headed but was hoping to stall the inevitable.

"I mean, what is this? What have we been doing all this time?" Your voice rose slightly, the frustration that had been building for weeks spilling over. "I’ve been here, waiting for you to tell me something, anything. And you’ve given me nothing. Nothing that I can hold on to... And today, I mean the painting is gorgeous. You already knew I’d like it but…." You sighed. You genuinely loved the painting but you were avoiding the word love at all costs at the moment. You felt embarrassed that you did love him at the minute but should the circumstances be different you would’ve swooned over someone buying you art like this. 

"I’ve told you, you mean something to me," he said, his voice pleading now, as if that was supposed to be enough. But that was the problem. That had always been the problem. You weren’t just something. You were so much more, and he never saw it. Or if he did, he was too afraid to admit it.

"That’s not enough," you snapped, your voice cracking. "Do you hear yourself? ‘You mean something to me’? That’s what you’ve been saying for months. Do you even know what that means? Because to me, it feels like nothing." You quipped. He was quiet on the other end, and you could feel your heart racing, your emotions boiling over. You had held back for so long, tried to be patient, tried to understand where he was coming from. But now, it was all crashing down, and you couldn’t stop yourself. "I’ve been waiting for you, Jude," you continued, your voice shaking. "I’ve been waiting for you to tell me how you really feel, to be brave for once and just say it. I’ve given up so much for you. I left New York. I stayed in Madrid. And for what? For you to keep stringing me along with vague promises that I mean something to you?"

"I never wanted to hurt you," Jude said, his voice strained, like he was trying to hold it together. "I just… I don’t know how to say it." The tears were gathering on his water line. This felt very much like the beginning of the end.  Jude really hoped that this wasn’t the way this conversation would go but a part of him also wasn’t all that surprised. He knew he had wronged you. 

"That’s the problem!" you shouted, unable to hold back the tears that were now threatening to spill over. "You never know how to say it. You never know how to tell me what I mean to you. I’ve been bending over backwards for you, trying to be patient, trying to be enough, but it’s never enough for you, is it? Never enough for you to tell me." Jude’s breath hitched on the other end, and for a moment, you thought he might say it. That he might finally say the words you’d been aching to hear for so long. 

 "I… I’m trying to show you that I care. I don’t want to lose you." But instead, he stammered. Your heart clenched painfully at his words, and the tears finally spilled over again. 

"But you already have." You bluntly told him. The silence that followed was suffocating. You could hear your own breathing, heavy and ragged, and you knew that he was on the other end, feeling just as broken as you. Jude had to mute his phone for a moment for the sob that he felt ready to escape him. He couldn’t breathe properly. But he still couldn’t say it. He couldn’t give you the one thing you needed.

"I…" he started again, but the words faltered. You felt like he was never going to say it. He never would. Why couldn't he say it? Jude was wondered the same thing. It would feel unfair to say now. You almost worried he would say it in a last ditch effort and you didn't want it that way.

"I don’t think I can do this anymore," you whispered, your voice barely audible as the tears continued to fall. "I can’t keep waiting for you to figure out how you feel about me. I can’t keep holding onto something that’s never going to be what I need." Jude was silent again, and you could feel the finality of it all sinking in. This was it. Whatever had been between you, whether it was a relationship or some undefined situationship, it was over. The love you both refused to name had shattered into pieces, and there was no going back now.

“Y/N, angel. Please. Can we… Please it hurts me to think that I'll only got to know you this long. I want more. I’ll give you a lifetime of me, please.” Jude muttered terribly upset and terribly aware this was it. 

“Jude, please know that for the past few weeks I have imagined you imagining me. It's been the only thing that would soothes me. Dreaming you’d want more but… I know now that it’s just been a dream. You have been my favorite almost… really” You whimpered, tears running.  "I’m sorry," you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of the words. "I’m so sorry, Jude." And before he could say anything, before you could hear the regret in his voice or the words he couldn’t find, you hung up. You stood there in the middle of your apartment, phone in hand, tears streaming down your face, knowing that it was done. Whatever you had with Jude, whatever it had been, was gone. You loved him. You had loved him with everything you had, and now you had to let him go.  Jude sat in his room, the emptiness around him mirrored in the ache inside his chest.  He loved you and never told you. The ache in your own chest was unbearable, but you knew it was the only way. The relationship—or whatever it was—had ended, not with a grand declaration of love, but with silence. The silence that had always been between you, unspoken and unresolved.

And now, you had to learn how to live without it. Without him. 

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Next part - Chapter 10 - A Little Lost xx

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

What Did You Take?

A One For The Road Bonus Chapter

Cecil Dennis x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 9: Sex Pollen

Summary: Cecil took... something.

A/N: Thank you so much @thexsanctuaryx for betaing!

Warnings: kissing, swearing, talk of drunks, sex pollen, flesh lights, jacking off, p in v sex, oral (afab! receiving), please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 1556

You answer Cecil’s call almost instantly. He was one of the few people who preferred calling (or video chatting) over messaging, always said he liked to hear your voice. 

You liked to tease him that really it was because then he could make sure he was speaking to the correct person, and hadn’t accidentally sent a saucy pic (his dick) to the wrong contact (poor Harry one too many times).

“Hey Cec,” you lean down, grabbing a tin of soup and putting it into your trolley. 

“Hey,” He draws out the word, his voice soft and breathy. He was definitely jerking off. 

“I’m food shopping.” You say with a smile on your face, “Literally grabbing tins.”

“Uh huh,” he swallows, the sound clicking. 

You frown a little, sure Cecil had a big libido, but you were sure even he couldn’t find you picking up ingredients that interesting. 

“What you doing Cec?” You tease.

“Jerking off.” 

“I got that.” 

He whines, a mixture of excitement and embarrassment. “I got the fleshlight between the sofa cushions and I’m…” he moans, “Fuck, it feels really good.” 

“Yeah?” You grin. “Had to call and tell me about it?” 

He hums an affirmative. “I… I can’t…”

You wait a beat, listening to his heavy breathing. 

“I can’t get off.” 

“What?” 

“It’s not working, like, it feels good, so good, but I can’t get to the end.” He whimpers. “I, I took…”

“What did you take Cecil?” Worry spikes into your chest. 

“It’s this… thing,” he always was so helpful with descriptions. “It’s, so it’s meant to make you super horny and keep going,” he groans and you hear a particularly wet thrust in the background, “and I thought because we’re hanging out later that it would be good for you if I was… if I could just keep fucking you and so I took it and fuck.” He sobs.

“Cecil?” 

“It worked so quickly and I feel so hot, and I wanted to just come and take the edge off and I can’t.” His voice breaks at the end.

You’re already at the self-checkout, quickly paying for your items so you can get the hell out of there and over to him. “When did you take it?”

“Ummm,” he groans, the sound of his thrusts growing louder, “about an hour ago.”

“An hour?” 

“And twenty.”

“Cecil! Fuck,” you grab your shopping and head to your car, how long could someone have an erection before they needed to go to the hospital. “So this is like super Viagra?” You say as you sit down and fasten your seatbelt. 

“Sort of.” He groans, “God, talking to you helps actually,” he whines, “Feel so close.” 

“Where did you get this anyway?” You pull out of the parking lot. 

“Benny.”

“Benny?” You swear. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

“Noo,” Cecil whines, “He’s not that bad, he always gives me good deals, a friend discount.” 

“Cecil, he sold you that weed that had roofies in it.”

“That was an accident-”

“And that ritalin and-”

“Can we not talk about him,” Cecil gasps, “please, I was really close.” 

You pause, “My voice helps?” 

“Oh god, so much.” He whimpers, swallowing thickly. 

“I’m on my way over.” 

He moans loudly, shivering. “Thank you, oh fuck, thank you, need to see you so bad.”

“Can’t leave you alone for a second can I?” You drive through the light on amber. 

“You can’t.”

“Or you’ll go and take weird drugs that could put you in the hospital.”

“You could, um,” he groans deeply, “put me in you or something, I’m sorry, there’s an innuendo there somewhere, I can’t get to it.” 

“Okay, now I know something’s wrong.” You tease, trying to make light of the situation and ease your slowly building tension. 

He snorts through moans, and then whines pitifully. “I can’t come.” A little sob shakes through him. “I need to so, so, so bad. It hurts.”

 “Fuck Cec.” 

You make it to his house in record time, using your key to open the front door and practically throwing yourself inside. 

Cecil is on you before you even get a chance to call out a greeting. 

“You came,” he sobs, he’s naked, his skin flushed and feverish. His heavy cock bobs between his legs as he moves, slick from the lube he’s been using.

“Of course I did,” you stroke his cheeks, looking into his dilated eyes. “I told you I was on the way.” You say soothingly, he still hasn’t become used to you not stringing him along. 

“Thank youuu,” He groans, leaning forward and kissing you messily, slipping his tongue into your mouth eagerly. Drinking in your air like it was his only source. 

“Cec, Cec,” You manage to pull back, your hands on his cheeks.

He whines pitifully as your lips leave his. 

“We should go to the hospital.”

“No, please,” He shakes his head rapidly, “Please, let’s, please, I need you so bad, let’s just fuck and try.”

“Fuck and try,” you snort despite your worry and he grins, his eyes lighting up.

“Yes, yes, try.” He drags you into the living room, yanking at your clothing and kissing your neck. 

“Cec, maybe we shouldn’t in the living room, I mean, Harry’ll-”

He lets out a whine of frustration, taking his mouth off your skin only so that he can pull off your top and undo your bra. He licks your chest eagerly, focusing on one and then the other, his eyes rolling back as he sucks.

You gasp, your fingers instinctively sliding through his hair as he works.

He slips his hands down to your hips, hastily undoing your trousers and pulling them down to your knees. 

“Cec,” you bite your lip, unsure if you should really be doing this and not taking him to the emergency room. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he mutters, but doesn’t stop what he’s doing. He drags you onto the floor, finishes stripping you bare in a matter of seconds. 

He’s everywhere, all over, licking and sucking and moaning in your ear as he squeezes and pinches and impatiently pushes his fingers inside. 

You shiver at the intrusion, a little gulp escaping your lips. You shouldn’t be enjoying this quite so much, having him so desperate and needy for you. 

Cecil whines, gasping and rutting against your leg as he curls his fingers and strokes your walls. “Fuck, oh god, oh god, oh god.”

You don’t even think he realises he’s speaking anymore, just letting whatever thoughts he has fall from his lips. 

Pleasure cracks up his spine, makes his vision spin. He groans, bucking his hips faster as he buries his head between your thighs and sucks your clit into his mouth greedily. 

You swallow, desperately grabbing at him as your body moves with his, chasing after the sensation he’s lavishing upon you. 

He whines, whimpers, so, so close he can almost taste it, but still not close enough. He pulls away from you quickly, muttering apologies at your huff of frustration at the loss. 

“Can I? Can I? Can I?” He kneels, taking himself in hand and notches himself at your core, the words fluttering out of his mouth in such a wanton mess they are nearly indistinguishable from each other. 

You barely get a chance to nod before he’s pushing in, trying to slow the rapid buck of his hips by squeezing the base of his cock. 

“Ohhhh fuuuuuuck.” He sobs, sounding even whinier than usual. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, feels so nice.” He rocks further in, pressing so wonderfully as he stretches you wide. 

“Cecil,” you bite your lip as he just sinks down, thrusting shallowly as he bottoms out and presses his chest to yours. 

“Yeah?” He sounds floaty, lost in the sensation as he rolls and rocks, keeping his length as deep inside as possible while he rubs the base of his cock against your bundle of nerves in a way that has your mind short-circuiting. 

He feels so good like his body was made to fit inside and please you. You grab at his biceps, his curls, moaning against his lips as his fingers dig into your skin in desperation. 

“Fuck, baby, please, ah, please can you squeeze my neck, please,” he splutters, his eyes screwed up so tight. “Gonna come, please, need to, I’ll take care of you after, I promise, I promise, I-”

You put your hand on his throat, a warm strong pressure, barely squeezing, more there to ground him than anything. And he sobs. 

He ruts twice, frantic. His voice rises to an impressive pitch as he comes deep, his orgasm washing over him and robbing him of all other thoughts. 

You expect him to collapse on top of you, nuzzle into your chest. 

But he doesn’t.

He keeps moving, keeps bucking, causing pleasure to race along your nerves.

“Cec?” You bite back a moan, pushing his sweaty curls from his forehead. 

“Fuck, that was so good, so good, fuck.” He grinds his hips, picking up the pace as he fucks his still very erect cock into you. 

“Still hard, gonna come again,” he whines, all high pitched and breathless. “Gonna make you come with me this time.” He bites his lip, looking down at you with hazy, lust filled eyes. 

It was going to be a long night.

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[fr33time]

Hiii (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶), can I request for a hurt/comfort reader x Jin or Romeo fic?

✦❘༻Self care to forget༺❘✦

Divider credits: @thecutestgrotto

Pairing: Romeo Lucci x GN!reader

Synopsis: MC was cursed by an anomaly, which caused them to have one of the worst days of their life. After breaking their arm after an investigation with Vagastrom, Romeo calls MC to his private room on business, but MC is more than over with the day.

A/N: Yesss of course!! I chose Romeo this time, so I hope you’ll enjoy the idea I have for him!!! I don’t find many Romeo fics so I felt like I should fill the space with one. He’s still a tad difficult to write but I made sure to go through his in game chats, and check through the wikis to see how he spoke. I had fun writing this, and it’s interesting to try something new. Enjoy! Also sorry this took so long to release, I’ve been busy again and I have work to do so I’ll probably only get to writing on weekends. I wrote most of this late at night so I apologize for any mistakes, feel free to let me know! I’ve been waiting for episode 9 to release and I can’t wait since it looks like a Halloween special chapter. Until my next work!

Genre: Hurt/comfort, oneshot

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Life did not particularly favour you at the moment. You ended up being taken to an emergency room for breaking your arm, if it had been a sort of sprain then a couple anomalous medicine packs could have fixed it, but the world loves to beat you when you’re down.

About 4 days ago you were sent to be the inspector of a mission with the Vagastrom house. They were investigating a mass wave of kidnappings that they believed to have been caused by an anomaly. This morning was supposed to be the final day of the investigation, where you and the ghouls were planning to capture the anomaly and complete the mission. The day was doomed from the start with an air of bad luck following you throughout. You fell through the floor of the Clementia house, you kept stepping in pot holes and almost spraining your ankle, when the world was seemingly trying to kill you, it also made everything very inconvenient. You were losing everything you placed on furniture the previous night, stepped on a pregnant spider, the power went out, etc.

The final straw was when the investigation was reaching its final stages. Some plans flew off the rails and you ended up being chased by the anomaly. Once it grabbed you, you managed to maneuver yourself out of its grasp, but in turn you ended up falling from the second floor of a building onto the first floor because of a giant hole in the floor. It would not have been this bad if you fell in a different position, but you fell head first and it triggered the instinct to break the fall with your arms.

You were rushed to the emergency room after the anomaly was unfortunately destroyed. Apparently, the anomaly put a mini curse on you that gave you dreadful bad luck. On the bright side, darkwick had come across a curse like this before and was able to lift it almost immediately. Your arm was patched up, and was told that it would heal in up to 12 weeks on account of the clean break, and sent you home.

You felt shitty, all you wanted was to rest and you were stuck having to deal with the ghouls in Vagastrom on the way back. Alan and Sho seemed really concerned for you, but decided to stay silent for now in fear that you weren’t into conversation. Leo on the other hand had a bitter face plastered on, it will always be perplexing how he manages to say the worst things at the worst times.

“Y’know, we could’ve captured that anomaly if honour roll hadn’t screwed up.” Alan immediately threw him a nasty look and signalled him to shut up. Honestly, you weren’t in the mood, if you didn’t feel so drained then you could’ve responded back to him but you didn’t have the heart. Soon, you were back at your dorm, once the Vagastrom ghouls dropped you off and said they would check on you later, you sat in silence for a while. You laid down on the bed and started to drift to sleep until you heard a buzzing on your phone. You could’ve ignored it but clearly someone was spam texting you to get your attention. Out of obligation, you peeked at your phone and checked the messages.

New girl!

Report to the VIP room this instant!

Are you ignoring me?!?!

This won’t be tolerated, if you’re not here in 5 minutes there will be serious consequences!

You groaned out of frustration seeing Romeo’s spammed messages on your screen. You immediately went to pick up your phone and text back, trying to explain what happened today,

Romeo I can’t come right now, can you let me off the hook this time? I’ve had a really bad day and I just want to lay down…

I don’t want your excuses, I’ll add 2 extra minutes on your clock, you better be grateful because you’re wasting my precious time!

And it’s Fico, get it right!

You guessed that there was no saying no to him. You rushed to Sinostra as best you could, but there was no way that you were going to attempt to run there. As you walked inside, the guards that were standing outside of the VIP room were greeting you,

“MC, Fico’s expecting you, head inside.” Most of the staff knew who you were by now. You had been working around Sinostra more recently due to Romeo making you do “Eyes in the Sky” surveillance for him. He was a teensy bit more lenient on you lately, you weren’t sure why but you liked to think that he was getting used to you, bit by bit. It was already later than usual, so you wondered why Romeo wanted you to come to the VIP room at 9PM. The guards opened up the VIP room for you, and stepped inside. Romeo was sitting down on the luxurious couch, sifting through paper work that surrounded his desk. The door behind you closed, and you realized that Romeo didn’t bother to have bodyguards with him. You stood in front of the table, barely keeping it together. It felt like you could snap the tiny bit of composure that you had at any time.

“I thought I told you to rush over here!” Romeo finally decided to look at you and noticed your horrendous physique. Your arm was in a cast, clothes were dirty, eyes drooped down to hell, and your posture was so unacceptable that it felt violating to his eyes.

“What the hell happened to you?”

In that moment, everything inside of your head spilled out onto the floor. You couldn’t hold it any longer. Before you realized what happened, you were on the floor, breaking down. Your chest tightened and tears streamed out on your face and onto the floor. It felt humiliating, crying in front of Romeo like this but you’ve never felt so down on your luck before. It was crushing that it felt like the whole world was against you today, it wasn’t always like that but a pile of stress was building up over the course of the mission, especially today.

“I just- I just wanted to be left alone! My arm hurts so bad- everything is so fucking- shitty!” Your brain couldn’t keep up with your words, your line of consciousness was being interrupted by your hyperventilating. Your throat hurt, it hurt so much from wanting to cry out and having to swallow everything down.

“Just leave me- the fuck alone! I want to sleep— so fucking bad- why won’t any- one just let me rest for once today!” Romeo was stunned, he sat there looking at you while your cries were the only noise echoing in the room. Your eyes were red, and puffy, you looked pitiful while sitting on the floor of his expensive private room. He got up from his couch and kneeled down in front of you, hovering his finger over your mouth.

“Shut up for a moment!” You stopped speaking but there was nothing you could do about your hyperventilation. You tried to breathe deeply, but didn’t help your uncontrollable gasps for air. You looked away from his eyes and tried to look down at the floor, it felt less shameful. Romeo sighed heavily, and got up onto his feet.

“Stand up” you followed what he said and tried to get off of your knees.

“Just looking at the state you’re in is giving me wrinkles. Don’t say anything and follow me” Romeo started walking and signalled you to come along. You followed him and ended up in his bathroom, one of the most spotless bathrooms you’ve ever seen with countless beauty products on the counters and in cupboards. Your breathing was starting to calm down but you were still in rough shape. Now you were confused, why would Romeo take you in here? He started filing through his cabinets and grabbing a few things.

“I’m going to fix you up because you look horrendous, but for now go and monitor my EITS and wait till I’m done. This just means you’re gonna work twice as hard tomorrow as payment for this.” You started to realize that he was going to take care of you when you looked at all of the products in his arms. You listened to what he said and sat down on his couch to look at the cameras in the casino. You didn’t mind staying any longer anymore, it would be nice to rest but you felt like Romeo wanted to help you in his own weird way. That’s what you wanted to believe, and in reality it wasn’t that far from the truth. It made you smile a bit, but you knew that if Romeo caught you then he would probably throw you out in an instant, so you kept it down. You were done with everything, this was the best you were gonna get out of everything. Not much time passed before Romeo set up, he called you over before you knew it.

“New girl! Get over here!” You got up and met Romeo in the bathroom, finding a chair in front of the sink, with a whole line of facial items set up.

“Sit down and straighten your back. I won’t accept sloppiness.” As you sat down, Romeo cleared space and put his laptop on the counter in front of you. It looked like he still wanted you to work, but he interrupted your thought as he spoke.

“I’ll watch it, but tell me if you see something wrong or there’ll be consequences.” Romeo turned your chair so that it was parallel to the counter. Facing it towards him, it helped him see your face better and it was easier to apply things on you. He stayed organized and started to put things on your face, first a cold compress eye mask, then a cold towel to reduce overall swelling in your face, applied a couple moisturizers, gently massaging your eyelids, it felt like pure bliss. You weren’t sure why he was doing this, and even Romeo was questioning why he did this all for you. He wanted to make you stop crying by giving you a mini facial, and registered it as wanting to get rid of your scrunched up face and out of his sight to use it against you later.

You looked in the mirror after he was done and barely recognized yourself. You were glowing, and it looked like you never even cried in the first place. When you checked the time, it was almost 11PM. There were many missed messages from Alan, asking where you were and if you were alright.

“Oh wow, it’s getting really late. I’m so sorry for taking up your time, I should be going soon!” When you were getting back up, you felt a pair of hands push down gently on your shoulders to make you sit.

“You’re sleeping here tonight, I’m not listening to complaints. You’re getting up in the morning and working all day for me tomorrow as payment. I spent my precious time on you, so you should feel indebted to me.” He folded his arms and looked at you, expecting an answer.

“Um… where would I even sleep?” You didn’t have the strength to fight, it’s not like you wanted to walk all the way back to your dorm late at night anyways. You were tired and needed to rest, it didn’t matter where it was anymore.

“On the couch, it’s high quality so it should be better than the shabby one you have. Any BFB would be able to tell the quality difference as soon as they sat down.” You were a bit perplexed by his out of place acronyms, but you had no clue what he was talking about.

“…BFB?”

“Bumbling Fucking Buffoons, it should be obvious.” All you could do was smile slightly and nodding your head to appease him. Romeo got up to set up the couch comfortably, you still had a broken arm so you needed a cozy space to be in to put your mind at ease.

“Thank you Romeo, I feel much better now. You helped me alot, and I appreciate it.” He was turned away from you, so you couldn’t see the look on his face, but a slight blush came across his face. He shouldn’t be feeling embarrassed but he did, he didn’t understand his own feelings.

“It’s Fico, you BB. I’m making sure you wake up early to get started in an organized fashion, so enjoy comfort while it lasts.” You were surprised that Romeo did all of this for you, but it was sweet in his standards. He made you feel better by giving you some self care, and offered you to stay here so you wouldn’t walk back. He did want you to work all day tomorrow, but you could make it through, he didn’t assign hard tasks to you so you weren’t worried. You hoped that you and him could have a better relationship someday, it was going to take a while, he had multiple walls in front of him that were made out of brick. But it felt like you climbed over that first hurdle.

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[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter Ten

Summary:

It's bowling time! You and the gang get a little closer over this highly unsexy game. Definitely no sexy things will happen in this chapter. No, don't look at the tags. Stop, what are you doing.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.3k

Tags/Warnings: thigh riding, dry humping, rough kisses, fantasies of bondage, cumming in pants, vampire bites/blood drinking, conversations about academic research, semi-public semi-sex

So I didn't actually mean to wait a week and a half between posting chapter 10 on AO3 and posting it here, but as a result, I can tell you that the un-beta'd chapter 11 is now up on my Kofi! You can read it for free, or you can wait until it's fully edited on AO3. Up to you, guy.

As always, @zipzoomzaria is responsible for the devastatingly handsome professor in the banner.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

Admittedly, you kind of delight in the look on Astarion’s face as you cross the threshold into the bowling alley. His nose wrinkles while his eyes dart around the space, cataloging everything from the stained black and neon rainbow carpet, to the bored employee sitting in front of rows and rows of dirty rental shoes, to the group of noisy teengers eating nachos covered with a thick liquid cheese.

He lets out a low growl and you giggle, almost giddy at the evening ahead of you. There is absolutely no chance in hell you’ll be able to do anything even remotely sexual in this environment. You grab his hand and drag him over to the shoe rental.

“Hi, can I get a 7 ½?” you ask the employee, and they languidly pull their chin off their hand and turn around to grab the shoes.  Astarion hovers behind you, still uncomfortably taking everything in. You take the shoes from the employee and drop them in front of you, stepping out of your flats and into the bowling shoes.

“Ugh, gods, I don't know why you insist on taking part in this,” he says with a sneer, well within earshot of the employee, whose eyes have already started to glaze back over. “It’s not enough to put your fingers into a grease-coated ball, you choose to play dress up with a hundred other people’s feet?”

“I mean I wouldn’t choose to, I just have to if I want to actually do the bowling part of it,” you tell him as you wiggle your ankle to get the shoe to settle.

“Sorry, what?”

You had been waiting for this moment and you try to hide your glee as you say, “Yeah, you have to rent special shoes so you don’t fuck up the floor.”

His face remains frozen for a moment in a look of utter disgust as he processes what you said. “So you’re telling me,” he drawls, waving his finger like a disgruntled valley girl, “that in order to play this asinine game that you’re making me play, I must pay money to let my feet bask in the foot sweat residue of several hundred strangers?”

“You also have to leave your shoes with them while they’re rented,” you add, handing your flats over to the employee, who slips them in the cubby whence they retrieved your rental shoes. Astarion splutters incoherently.

“That’s it, you’ve lost me, this was a very cute idea but I am absolut–” You grab his hand as he starts storming away and pull him back towards the rental counter.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun, I promise!” You grasp his hand in both of yours, an exaggerated gesture of a pleading child. “Just do it for me, please?”

He scowls at your beaming face for a moment before rolling his eyes and approaching the counter again.

“I’ll take a 9 ½,” he grumbles through gritted teeth. The employee continues to display an almost impressive amount of apathy as they grab the requested size. Astarion makes a show of his disgust as he takes off his patent leather oxfords and puts on the grubby shoes that were presumably red and blue at one point. 

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he mutters out of the side of his mouth and your grin widens.

“You absolutely will not,” you tease. He stands suddenly, closer than you had realized, and looms over you.

“Would you like to test that theory?” he hums in a low voice, and your breath catches in your throat. He turns away from your reddening face with a smug sense of satisfaction as he hands his shoes to the employee. He starts to walk away when their voice interrupts him.

“Sir, you need to pay for those,” they call out halfheartedly. He turns around to you, just staring back innocently.

“Oh, I’m paying,” he confirms blankly, and you shrug.

“You’re the one with tenure, you make more than me,” you state matter-of-factly. He scowls again but doesn’t protest, and instead just taps his phone on the pin pad.

You scan the lanes to see if you can spot any of your friends. Gale sees you and waves you over to where he and Wyll are sitting together stiffly. Shadowheart and Karlach aren’t here yet. 

“Hello, there,” he calls, grateful to see faces he recognizes. A paper boat of fries sits on the table between them, along with two plastic cups of water.

“Any word from Karlach?” you ask Wyll, leaning over the hard plastic bench to grab a fry.

“She apologized, she said they’d be here soon,” he replies, glancing at the text from her.

“Took them longer to get ready than they expected,” you say with a grin, and Wyll clears his throat, cheeks darkening slightly.

“Oh Tav, have you caught up with If Books?” Gale asks you, taking off his glasses to clean them with his knit sweater vest.

“Yes, I couldn’t stop listening to it,” you reply enthusiastically, “some episodes have been very illuminating.” You cast a quick glance at Astarion and he petulantly shoves his hands into his pockets and shuffles his feet. “But it’s so hard waiting for each new one,” you add, and Gale nods.

“Yes, and they’ve switched from a bimonthly schedule to a monthly schedule, so the wait is even longer,” he agrees.

“What’s up, fuckers?” Karlach’s voice booms across the lanes and Astarion mutters, “Oh thank the gods,” under his breath. Shadowheart and Karlach saunter over, Karlach double fisting pitchers of a pale amber beer. She puts them down onto the table, only one of them sloshing beer over the edge. Shadowheart narrows her eyes at Astarion, sizing him up.

“Shade, this is Astarion, Astarion, this is my best friend Shadowheart,” you awkwardly introduce them to try to cut the tension as early as possible.

“Yes, I’m aware,” Shadowheart says with disdain, looking down her nose at Astarion. “I’ve heard plenty about you.”

“Only the best, I’m sure,” he lobs back. “Funny, I don’t think she’s mentioned you.” You shoot Astarion a dirty look as Shadowheart’s eyebrows disappear into her bangs. You can tell that she’s unaccustomed to sparring with someone who has as much snark as her, but the verdict is still out on whether or not it’s a good thing.

Oblivious to the heated standoff behind her, Karlach types away at the console, putting in slightly wrong initials for everyone and giggling maniacally as she does. In order, the names say ASS, TAV, CAR, SAD, GIL, and WIL.

“Soldier over here’s lucky, her name is already three letters,” she laughs and winks at you. Astarion fiddles with the roll of his sleeve and looks at the ball return with apprehension.

“I suppose my ‘ass’ is first?” He hits Karlach with the look over the glasses and she throws her head back, cackling like a hyena. 

“Good on ya, Cardigan, there’s a sense of humor under that mop after all.” She kicks the toe of her red and white shoe at him from where she’s sitting, but he dodges out of the way. He walks up to the ball return and shudders before he decides on one, visibly gagging as he picks it up.

“Okay you drama queen, we get it, it’s gross,” you laugh at him, “now just knock as many pins down as you can, okay?”

“That much would seem obvious,” he smirks, and walks up to the edge of the lane. He glances back at you one last time, almost as if he’s assessing if you’re really worth the humiliation, before throwing the ball down the lane. It glides towards the pins in a smooth straight line before crashing into their pyramid, knocking over all but one. He stares at the lone pin in shock as you and Karlach whoop at him.

“Hey, you might actually be good at this game after all!” you shout as he walks back to the bench, looking just a little more pleased with himself. He’s about to sit down when you stop him, saying, “No, you get two frames.” He looks back down at the end of the lane just in time to see the mechanical arm sweep away the fallen pins and leave the remaining one standing. He makes a dramatic show of sighing heavily and picks up the ball again. He approaches the lane, calculates the pathing, and throws the ball. It knocks down the last pin.

“Okay Ancunín, comin’ in hot with the spare!” Karlach laughs and he puffs his chest slightly at the compliment. “I think you might need a better nickname than Cardigan.”

“Gods please, I’ll take anything,” he begs, and you stand up to grab a ball.

“Perhaps Dr. Bowling?” Wyll pipes up, and Gale adds, “A doctorate in Bowling Studies with a concentration in spares and strikes?” Astarion’s scowl is icy, but even you can tell he’s having fun.

“I’ve spoken too quickly,” he says, gritting his teeth.

You find that the six of you get along quite well. The conversation is easy and light as you cycle through your turns, laughs flowing between you as freely as the terrible watery beer.  

You take a gulp from your plastic cup, your legs draped over Astarion’s lap as Gale takes his turn. Astarion scoffs at the smell.

“Nine hells, how can you possibly drink that piss?” He turns his face away from the yellowish liquid. 

“I don’t know, I have low standards for myself?” you answer with a shrug. 

Shadowheart lets out a high pitch giggle. “Clearly, considering you’re dating him,” she snickers, and Astarion fixes her with a playfully snide look.

“Big talk coming from someone who needs aloe vera after a romantic evening,” he retorts with pursed lips. Shadowheart tries to suppress a smile – talking shit is her love language.

“At least she and I agree to it prior,” she says coolly, and Astarion goes even paler than usual. He shoots you a nervous glance, a sort of are we allowed to joke about that? But you laugh and take another sip of your beer, surreptitiously rubbing the back of his hand resting on your knee in assurance.

You’re enjoying watching Shadowheart and Karlach navigate the awkward early stages of the relationship. Shadowheart has her hands clasped around her knee, bent in front of her as her foot rests on the plastic bench. Karlach’s arm is draped across the back of the bench, leaving enough plausible deniability as to whether or not her arm is actually around Shadowheart. You suspect by the end of the evening, it’ll be less ambiguous.

“So tell me, Gale,” Wyll asks as Gale waits by the ball return. “I’ve never met a wizard with a PhD, what was your research in?”

“I’m so glad you asked, because I think you in particular would find use of it,” he responds enthusiastically. “It was in ethical uses of high powered spells. There’s a stigma around mortals chasing too much power, but I feel very strongly that some spells simply have no downside.”

Astarion quirks an eyebrow, his hand absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for someone who’s power hungry, Dekarios,” he says with a smirk, and Gale emphatically shakes his head.

“No, the power isn’t for me, it’s for– well, hold on.” He quickly grabs his ball from the return and throws it down the lane. It hits the gutter within seconds.

“Too bad!” Karlach calls, her arm slipping ever so slightly around Shadowheart’s shoulders a bit more.

“It’s fine. Anyway.” Gale is quick to return to the benches, excited to talk about his research. “I strongly feel that Globe of Invulnerability, Heal, and Heroes’ Feast simply have no downside. We should implement systems in which they can be used for the greater good.” 

“Fascinating. Do doctors not already use Heal in hospitals?” Wyll muses, then turns to Shadowheart as he stands to take his turn. “Shadowheart, you’re a cleric of Selûne, you must use Heal all the time.”

Shadowheart shakes her head. “We’re not permitted to use anything more powerful than Mass Cure Wounds, and even then it’s only in the most dire situations, like war zones. I don’t even know how to perform it.”

“See, this is precisely what I’m saying! Imagine all the good that we could do if there were more medical professionals who knew Mass Cure Wounds and Heal.” Gale gesticulates wildly with his almost empty cup of beer. 

“Heroes’ Feast could end world hunger in a matter of minutes!” Wyll nearly shouts from the lane right before he bowls his second frame, almost as excited as Gale.

“Yes!” Gale returns the excitement and then downs the last sip of his beer. “In fact, I think many of these high level spells are outlawed in some countries without even considering how they might impact our society.”

“Hey Ass, you’re up,” Wyll calls, heading back to the bench. 

“Darling, could you move your legs?” he asks you, his tone saccharine. You make a show of deliberating, holding your finger to your chin.

“Hmmm, I’m not sure. Wyll, who’s winning right now?” you call out to him and he speaks through the fry in his mouth.

“Ashtarion,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, I don’t think I will move,” you smirk obstinately, pushing your calves down into his lap. He raises his eyebrows at your challenge, peering at you over his glasses. He grabs your ankles and sharply turns you in your seat, his rough handling sending a subtle jolt through your core.

“Don’t pick a fight you can’t win, love,” he hums, his lips barely brushing against yours. He stands and turns towards the lane, leaving you slightly breathless. Karlach and Shadowheart titter at your dazed expression, the distance between them having all but disappeared.

Astarion gets yet another strike, and you briefly wonder how this English academic got so dexterous before remembering the feel of his long smooth fingers working inside you. You blink several times to banish the needlessly dirty thought as he turns around with an insufferably pompous look on his face, his newly discovered talent feeding his already overinflated ego. You try to play it cool as you stand and walk toward the ball return, but he blocks your body with his. You look up at him and he runs his knuckle up the front of your throat, stopping it right under your chin.

“Don’t choke,” he purrs and you press your lips together tightly to prevent an embarrassing noise from escaping. You shake your hair over your ears to cover how red they’ve become, but you’re certain your cheeks still give you away. You grab a ball and throw it down the lane, hardly aware of how many pins it knocks down. You stare into the ball return with glazed eyes as you watch your pink ball slide out of its mouth. You grab it, barely registering the shouts of encouragement from the others, and throw it down the lane as quickly as you can. You turn around before seeing the outcome of the frame, your mind occupied by one solitary thought.

“Excuse me, I’m going to run to the restroom,” you mumble, wrapping around behind the plastic benches as Karlach stands to take her turn. As discreetly as possible, you run your fingers across Astarion’s shoulders as you pass behind him. If you’re lucky, he’ll get the hint. If not… well, you need to take a breather anyway.

You duck into the hallway branching off the main lanes and settle yourself behind an ancient payphone. You have no idea if it’s meant to be kitschy and retro or simply a relic of a bygone era. You take a deep breath as you try to clear your head.

It didn't take long for Astarion to swing around the corner, grabbing your face in his hands and pushing you up against the wood-paneled wall. His lips are hard on yours and his fingers tangle in your hair – a roughness you’re all too happy to accept. You grasp at his lower waist, pulling his body further into yours. Your lips pop open as a small moan escapes when his knee slides up between your legs, pressing against your already aching mound.

“I thought this was meant to dampen our appetites,” he murmurs through breathless kisses. You clutch the back of his head as you grind down wantonly on his thigh.

“It’s not my fault you get fucking hot when you’re competitive, ah–” you swallow the moan as he slides his chilled hands up the back of your shirt, pressing into the dip just above your ass.

“I take it you like seeing me win?” You can feel his lips smiling against your earlobe, and you let out a small squeak when he gives it a gentle nip.

“I like seeing you cocky,” you groan, desperately chasing the friction that his thigh provides. He chuckles and pushes his leg up further into you, causing you to grunt through your teeth and pull on his hair as you try to keep the obscene noises that he’s tearing from you under control.

“Tell me how else you like me,” he rasps, and you can feel his erection pressing against your thigh. 

“I like it when you’re domineering,” your voice cracks as you continue to roll your hips against him. “I like when you tell me what to do. I like it when you’re just a little mean but even more when you tell me I’m a good girl.”

His hips buck against you and you shift on top of his leg, trying to relieve your own throbbing cunt while rubbing your leg against the bulge in his pants. His lips are still on your ear and he lets out a hissing breath when you lightly brush against his cock.

“You are my good girl, don’t stop.” His breath is cool against your skin and he runs the tip of his tongue along the shell of your ear, pulling a deep shudder from you. You can already feel how wet he’s made you, and if he keeps this up you might just come undone.

“I want you to put your hand around my throat when you fuck me,” you whine, your slick folds sliding against each other as he grinds his thigh into you. “I want you to put me in a collar and hold the leash tight and tell me I’m yours.” The fantasy is pouring out of you at this point. You’re hardly aware of your surroundings, all that matters is you and Astarion.

You can tell your words are affecting him, too. The rutting of his hips grow frantic and you tighten your hand in his hair and you can feel that familiar spiraling heat blooming out from your core.

“Gods, Astarion, I’m–” you mewl, fully riding his leg at this point. “Please bite me, I want you to bite me, I’m begging–” The moment his fangs sink into your flesh you come, your hand pressed tight over your mouth to muffle the sound, your hips stuttering with each rippling wave of pleasure. As he takes long dragging sips of your blood he makes barely audible whimpers into your neck, his hips still thrusting into your thigh. You bring your hands to his ear, gently pinching his velvety lobe between your fingers.

“Fuck, come for me Astarion,” you whisper into his hair, and it’s enough. He inhales sharply through his nose, teeth still latched onto your neck, and the rest of him stills, save a few subtle jerks of his hips as he spills inside his pants. You let out a breathy chuckle as you card your fingers through his hair affectionately. He pulls away from your neck and you’re blessed with one of your favorite sights – his lips slightly bloody, his eyes wild and frenzied, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. You kiss him, lapping up the metallic droplets from his lips, and he lets out a shuddering breath.

“I do so love it when you do that, you know,” he sighs, and you stifle a giggle.

“Make you come in your pants?” you tease.

“No– well, yes, I mean– I mean no!” he stammers, uncharacteristically flustered, and you hum with approval. “No, when you kiss me just after I’ve fed on you. It makes me feel… closer to you, I suppose.”

“Plus I bet it’s, like, really sexy,” you joke, skating over his sincerity, afraid of what you might accidentally say in response. You’re so not ready to write a check that you can’t cash.

“Yes, it is,” he murmurs and kisses you again, unphased by your deflection.

As though an impenetrable barrier had been lifted, someone rounds the corner to head to the bathroom and the two of you straighten up like you didn’t just dry hump like a couple of horny teenagers. You try to tidy your appearances, but there’s no accounting for the noticeable stain on the front of Astarion’s pants. He pinches the bridge of his nose, his glasses sliding up onto his forehead.

“I can’t believe you… ugh. I can’t be seen by the others like this.” He sighs deeply, the consequences of both of your actions finally catching up to him. You bite your lip guiltily, then suddenly gasp, recalling the machine you’ve seen in hundreds of restrooms throughout your life but never had any use for.

“Do you have a quarter?” you ask him frantically, and he stares at you, completely flummoxed.

“No, who carries cash anymore? What, why do–” You’re gone before he can finish his sentence, dashing around the corner to find Shadowheart. Karlach sees you first, and her face lights up as she waves her whole arm at you.

“Hey, we were just about to send out a search party,” she laughs as you round the corner of the benches.

“Itoldthemnotto,” Gale adds quickly, and you appreciate that he learned his lesson from last time. Shadowheart strides up to you and grabs your chin, pulling it to the side to expose your neck.

“Ugh, Tav, you shouldn’t drive when you’re like this,” she groans. “Te absolvo.” She flicks your forehead as she casts the spell and you flinch before a sheepish grin slides onto your face. 

“Hey, where’s Astarion?” Karlach asks, making like she’s going to head towards the bathrooms to look for him. You grab her arm before she can get too far.

“No no, don’t worry about that,” you speak frenetically, “Does anyone have a quarter?”

“Who even carries cash anymore?” Karlach asks with a bemused face, but Shadowheart glowers at you.

“Why, what do you need it for?” she asks through gritted teeth.

“Don’t worry about it,” you mumble, and she rolls her eyes. She grabs her purse and pulls out a sleek black leather wallet embossed with a crescent moon. “I only have ones,” she says, and you yank the bill out of her hand.

“That’s fine thanks love you be right back.” You take off with her dollar and make a beeline for the change machine near the arcade. After several attempts to flatten the bill enough for the machine to accept it, you hear four clangs as the quarters drop into the metal tray. You quickly scoop them out and run back to the hallway outside the bathrooms where poor Astarion is pretending to talk on the payphone.

“Where in the sweet hells did you go?” he hisses, and you finally get a good look at his appearance. His hair is still slightly disheveled, and he’s untucked his shirt to let it hang over the wet spot on the front of his trousers. You don’t answer him, but rather grab his wrist and duck into the women’s restroom that is, thankfully, empty.

You turn to the metal machine hanging off the wall that dispenses three invaluable items for a bowling alley bathroom: tampons, condoms, and scrolls of prestidigitation. You drop a quarter into the slot above the third item, crank the knob, and out falls a tightly rolled scroll.

“They’re usually for mothers to clean up after they’re done changing their baby’s diaper,” you say, nodding your head towards the plastic baby changing station. “But clearly they have other uses. Infame.” You recite the spell’s incantation and the scroll vanishes along with the stain on Astarion’s pants. He lets out a sigh of relief.

“Thank the Gods.” He unbuckles his belt and begins to tuck his shirt back into his pants. “You owe me,” he adds wryly.

“Um excuse me, who just traipsed all over just to hunt down a goddamn quarter so you could clean up after yourself?” you pout and he slides his hands around your waist.

“But who’s responsible for getting me into this mess in the first place?” he hums in a low voice, brushing his lips against yours. You’re about to melt into his kiss when suddenly the door to the restroom opens and a bewildered looking halfling walks in. You and Astarion spring apart and he quickly redoes his belt buckle. You embarrassedly shuffle out the door without a word.

The two of you reemerge to see all of your friends waiting impatiently by the shoe rental. Your and Astarion’s shoes have already been removed from their cubbies and the employee is just waiting for you to return the bowling shoes. The two of you jog over, and Shadowheart rolls her eyes as you approach.

“Fucking degenerates,” she mutters under her breath, grabbing Karlach’s hand and storming out the door.

[slut4thebroken]

Exposure Therapy pt. 10

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane × reader

Summary | Jon let’s you go on a trip with him, then can’t control his weird, freaky sex fantasies lmaoo.

Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding, kissing, consensual sex, attempted sex trafficking?? (but like not really?), fear play (but consensual this time), actually everything’s consensual this time lol, masturbation, voyeurism, bondage, degradation, verbal humiliation, praise.

Words | 4.2k

Notes | Kinky smut ahead! Beware😼 I really played into the “he hates everyone but you” trope in this chapter and I’m so here for it.

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Part 9

“I’m going out to meet someone about something, I shouldn’t be gone long.” 

“Oh… okay. Can I come?” He examined you and after a while you couldn’t help but squirm under his gaze as you backtracked. “I- I don’t have to… I just,”

“Fine.” He suddenly said, making your face light up. 

“Really?” 

“Yes. Stop wasting time and get dressed or we’ll be late.”

“Sorry.” You hurried to change into your stolen clothes, looking a little odd next to him in a full suit. He instructed you to bring the wristband he gave you along with the gas mask and then you were leaving, walking along the docks closer to the water now. When he put his mask on, you did the same, not sure what to expect. 

“No talking.” He said quietly when a few guys were in your eyeline. You nodded in response, following him until he stopped in front of the men. 

“Didn’t know Scarecrow had a partner.” A man snickered. 

“Yeah, who’s your pet?” 

“Enough. Do you have what I need or not?” He snapped, voiced distorted by the modulator in the mask. 

“We got it. But I think we might want a different form of payment now.” The man in front smirked, the other men muttering agreements. 

“We had a deal.” 

“Yeah well, our terms changed.” He shrugged, eyeing you with a grin that made your stomach twist. 

“You’ll give me what I want and in exchange, you don’t want money, you want her?” He confirmed, making you stiffen. He wouldn’t… Would he?

“Yep. With a pretty thing like her, we’ll make plenty more than what you’re willing to give.” 

“Fine. We have a deal.” You turned to him with wide eyes, silently asking what the fuck he was doing, but he didn’t even glance at you. The main guy motioned to someone behind him who walked away to grab something. 

“C'mere, sweetheart. I wanna get a good look at you.” He sneered and your heart dropped to your stomach. Was he really going to do this?

“You can have her after I receive what I paid for.” He said sternly and as if on cue, the man returned holding a large briefcase. When the leader gestured, he handed it to the man by your side. He grabbed your arm and walked you closer to the men, making your heart rate and breathing speed up. Once he was in front of them, he pushed you forward and you landed against the leader with a startled grunt. 

“We’re gonna have some fun with you before we start selling you, don’t worry.” He smirked, making your blood run cold. Hands were running over your body as all of the men focused on you. When someone reached for the mask, a cloud of his toxin was suddenly surrounding you, making the men cough as they staggered back. A hand grabbing your arm made you jump and you turned, finding Jon pulling you away from them as they started screaming. 

You waited until you were back inside and he set the briefcase on the desk before saying anything. Starting with a shove, you ripped the gas mask off, letting it fall to the floor, then pushed him again, making him stagger back. 

“You— dick!” When you tried to push him again, his hands circled your wrists in a bruising grip. 

“Stop.” He warned, the modulator making him sound even more intimidating. “You’re mine.” He explained firmly. 

“That’s supposed to automatically make me assume that you’re not going to do what you literally said you would do?” You hissed, voice shaking from anger that was concealing fear. 

“Do you really think so little of me?” He asked, making you falter. He released your wrists then removed his mask. 

“You scared me.” You whispered with a frown. 

“I’m sorry.” He said, never breaking eye contact as you searched for any sign of a lie. “I had to improvise. If it’s any consolation, I’m planning to spend that money on a mattress for you.” He said softly, making your frown relax. 

“I’m sorry I called you a dick.” 

“You get a pass this time because I deserved it.” He chuckled and you couldn’t help but smile. “On the bright side, you seem to be coping with your fears much better now. Did you cry?” 

“No.” You furrowed your brows at his words. 

“How did you feel?” He asked, stepping into your space. 

“Scared.” You whispered. 

“Tell me about it.” He said lowly, eyes darkening with arousal. You swallowed thickly as you processed his request. 

“Tell you what?” 

“How it felt, what you were thinking. Tell me how scared you were.” He rasped and you could feel arousal pooling in your stomach from his tone. 

“I- I was shaking… and nauseous. I thought you- you… I didn’t want you to leave me with them.” You whimpered, giving him a pout that had no visible effect on him. “The last time I was that scared was when you used the toxin on me.” You whispered. He was suddenly pulling you into a kiss and you let out a startled moan as you landed against his body. He walked you back until your thighs hit the desk, then lifted you onto it, never breaking the kiss. Placing your hands in his hair, you pulled, making him groan against your lips. When he pulled back, you let out a low whine, trying to lean forward to chase his lips, but he stopped you by putting a hand on your neck. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He asked, tilting his head slightly to emphasize the question. When you nodded, he tightened his grip on your neck. 

“Yes.” You quickly corrected yourself. He set the mask next to your thigh on the desk, then brought his hand up to brush your hair behind your ear, keeping his hand near your face. Making sure you were watching, he placed his fingers only centimeters above the lever on the wristband he was wearing. You stiffened, swallowing thickly against his hand as you eyed the threat only inches from your face. 

“Are you scared?” He asked quietly, making your eyes snap to his. Despite the very obvious threat, you knew that he wouldn’t do it, especially because he wasn’t wearing a mask. 

“You wouldn’t gas yourself too.” You tried to sound brave and confident, but the tremble in your voice was obvious. His lips curled into a small smirk, making your stomach twist. 

“Smart girl.” He picked up the mask and put it on, then moved his hand back in front of your face. “What about now?” Your gaze moved between his hand and the icy blue eyes through the small holes in the mask. Even though, logically, you knew he wouldn’t because he told you before he couldn’t even if he wanted to… the threat was definitely still there. But instead of the nauseating twist, your stomach was twisting in a different way. A way that made your skin flush and your core ache. 

“Yes.” You whispered. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Your cheeks heated up and you looked away from him, embarrassed. 

“No.” Your voice was barely audible. The low chuckle he released behind the modulator made you shiver, not used to hearing something so ominous. He suddenly stepped back and you almost whined at the loss of his touch. 

“Strip.” He ordered, making your eyes widen. You tentatively slid off the desk onto the floor, then started undressing. Once you got to your underwear, you hesitated, but when he didn’t do or say anything, you slid them down your legs with a blush. “Sit on the desk again.” You obeyed and he stepped between your legs once you were seated, then placed his hands back the way they were, one on your neck, the other in front of your face. 

“Touch yourself.” Your eyes widened as you stared at him in surprise. When he moved his fingers closer to the lever though, you immediately brought your hand to between your legs. Staring through the holes in the mask, you watched as his eyes trailed down your body, focusing on the way you were rubbing your clit. 

“You like this don’t you?” He asked curiously, making your face flush. “Being at my mercy… Feeling humiliated, vulnerable.” He elaborated. “Knowing that what happens to you is under my control. It scares you, but it also excites you.” Letting out a shaky breath, you rubbed your clit faster, already feeling your orgasm growing. “I could use this at any moment and you’d have no choice but to take it.” You eyed his hand for a moment before looking back to his eyes. 

“Jon,” You whispered, voice barely audible. 

“No. Scarecrow.” Your eyes widened slightly, not expecting that request at all. “Say my name again and you’ll be punished. Understand?” You nodded, feeling breathless, but his hand tightened on your throat in a warning. 

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” 

“Yes, Scarecrow.” You whispered, cheeks flushing at the unfamiliar name for him. 

“Good girl.” He muttered, making your breath catch in your throat, still barely used to such praise. 

“Can I come please?”

“You think you deserve to?” You could only stare into his piercing gaze for another moment before you had to look away. 

“I- I don’t know.” You whined. When he suddenly stepped back and let his hands drop to his sides, you let out a heavy breath. 

“Get up.” He ordered as he started removing his tie. You obeyed and waited eagerly on shaky legs. “Turn around.” Once you were facing the desk, he pulled your hands behind your back and restrained your wrists with his tie. 

“Is this okay?” He asked quietly, voice no longer distorted. 

“Please don’t stop.” You whispered. The thought of him stopping was enough to bring tears to your eyes. 

“God you’re such a fucking slut, aren’t you?” His mask was back on now, modulator distorting his voice, making him all the more intimidating. He suddenly fisted your hair and yanked your head back, pointing the wristband at your face as he held you still. “I bet you want me to use this on you.” He snickered and you did your best to shake your head as you whined. 

“What was that?” He used his grip on your hair to push your head down and then back up, as if you were nodding. “‘Yes, scarecrow’? If you insist.”

“N-no,” You whimpered, pressing your body against his to try and escape the gas that could invade your senses at any moment.  

“No? I don’t know… Seems like you want it.” His hand moved from your hair to your neck, squeezing tightly and pulling your head back to rest on his shoulder. “You sure you don’t want just a small taste?” You could barely hear him behind the mask, even with his lips so close to your ear. 

“Please…” Your voice trembled in fear, but you still ached to keep touching yourself. 

“What if I said the only way I’d fuck you is if I got to have my fun? Are you desperate enough to sacrifice your sanity, my love?” You whimpered and squeezed your thighs together, just needing him to fuck you already. 

“Jon…” You whined, pushing your hips back into his, but his hand on your neck tightened significantly and he let out a low growl. 

“What did I say?”

“I- I’m sorry! Scarecrow! I meant Scarecrow— Please, I’m sorry.” You rushed out, worried you had pushed him far enough to follow through on his threat. 

“Poor thing…” He cooed mockingly. “You touch yourself for only a few minutes and already you’re too dumb to follow a simple order.”

“I’m sorry.” You cried, tears welling in your eyes, but from humiliation of the situation and his words, not because you were genuinely upset. 

“What do you think you’d see? You said you’re not scared of me anymore so what would you see, little one?” The hand with the wristband remained by your head, which made you stay planted to his shoulder. The other started dragging down your body, over your sternum, to your stomach, then teasing your thighs. 

“I- I don’t know…” You whined, squirming to try and get his hand where you wanted it. 

“No?” You shook your head with a whimper and his hand snaked back up to your stomach, teasingly rubbing the soft skin. “You don’t think you’d see yourself with my child? After all, a come hungry whore like yourself is bound to get pregnant at one point or another. It’s just a matter of time, isn’t it?” 

“J- …Scarecrow,” You whimpered, writhing against him. “Please.”

“Please what? Find out?” 

“No! Please— please fuck me.” He suddenly removed his hands from your body, then pushed you over the desk. Grabbing your hips, he pressed his covered bulge against your ass, teasingly grinding against you, making you even needier. 

“You want my cock?” 

“Yes,” You gasped out, pushing your hips back against him. He pulled back and you were about to complain, but quickly shut your mouth once you heard the rustling of his clothes as he freed his length. He swiped the head through your folds, making you jump at the sudden pleasure. 

“Beg.” 

“Please, Sc- …Scarecrow.” You whined, embarrassed. When he remained silent, you whined even louder. “Please! Please fuck me!” He relented and you choked on a gasp when he applied more pressure until the fat head of his cock was breaching your hole. He didn’t stop until his hips were flush to your ass, feeling so incredibly deep that you couldn’t tell if it hurt or not. 

“Fuck— oh my god.” You whimpered, clenching your fists behind your back as you struggled to adjust to his size. The low, distorted groan from behind you made you shiver. “Please!” You cried, trying to wiggle your hips under him. He slowly dragged his length out, then pushed back in at the same speed, maintaining that rhythm. 

“Shh, just take it. Be a good little flesh light, close that fuck hole, and just take my cock.” Despite the warning, your mouth remained open, loud moans slipping past your lips as your walls fluttered around him. “That’s a good whore— shit… Making me feel so good, little one.”

“Oh god- please,” You sobbed. He sped up a little, grabbing your hips tightly and holding you still as he rocked into you. “Faster.” You said through a moan and surprisingly, he obeyed. He sped up even more, pulling you back by your hips with each thrust until you were moaning uncontrollably and babbling out senseless pleas. He suddenly leaned over your body, his cock pushing against your cervix almost uncomfortably as he kept thrusting. 

“Can you hear how wet your fucking cunt is?” The distorted voice right next to your ear made you shiver as you let out a quiet whimper. You could hear it. The sound of your wetness was almost deafening, even with your moans and the sound of his hips hitting against your ass. “Such a fucking slut getting off on me threatening you.” As your knees buckled and weakened, you were glad the desk was holding your weight up. 

“You want it, don’t you? You want it so bad, your pussy is practically drooling for it.” He suddenly grabbed your hair and yanked your head back, aiming the wristband on his other hand at your face again. You let out a loud moan and he chuckled quietly. “Fuck- your pussy squeezes me so tight when I do this. How’d I get so lucky, huh? I mean, I have my own personal whore at my disposal. And not only is she desperate for my cock, but she’s desperate for my toxin as well.” You whined and shook your head, the humiliation and pain on your scalp making the tears in your eyes threaten to fall. 

“No..” 

“Yes.” He said simply. “You can deny it all you want, but your body knows what it wants.” 

“Scarecrow,” You sobbed, quickly approaching your orgasm. 

“I know, little one. It’s okay.” He cooed, moving his hand to your neck and lifting your torso off the desk, making you put your weight on your shaky legs. “Are you close?” You nodded rapidly with a loud moan as he kept fucking you, his cock feeling so much deeper in this position. 

“I’m going to count down from ten. If you don’t come, I’m going to use this.” He moved the hand with the wristband to your eyeline to make sure you knew what he was talking about. “Do you understand?” 

“Y-yes.” You whimpered. He sped up his thrusts significantly, making your release a startled moan. 

“Ten.” His hand on your neck tightened, making your head feel light and floaty from that and the pleasure. “Nine. Think you can do it little one?” You nodded with a whimper, already feeling incredibly close now. “Eight.” Through the modulator in the mask, you could hear the way he was starting to breathe heavily, nearing his own orgasm as well. 

“Seven… God- maybe I should just use it anyway. You’d look so pretty coming on my cock as your fears consumed you.” He said quietly, making you let out a choked sob.

“Please.” You cried. 

“Six. Do you want that, pretty girl?” 

“N-no.” You whimpered, but it wasn’t believable when you moaned before you could even finish getting the word out. 

“I think you do… Why else would you be squeezing me so damn tight? Five.” His thrusts turned frenzied as his own orgasm grew even closer. “I can’t wait to feel you milk my cock while you scream and writhe in fear. Four.” Even though you were still mostly sure he wouldn’t actually gas you, the more he spoke, the less confident you felt in your answer. Regardless, it was hard to focus on— hard to care— with his cock pistoning in and out of you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. 

“Three. I hope you’re close.” You nodded as much as you could with his hand on your neck. “Yeah, I can tell. I can feel it… Two.” Your breathing grew rapidly, from fear or arousal you weren’t sure. 

“Ready?”

“Please— please, oh god.. please let me come.” You cried, trying to make yourself come, but struggling without his explicit permission. 

“One. Come, baby. Squeeze my fucking cock like your life depends on it, because it does.” You let out a loud sob that turned into a moan when the knot of arousal in your stomach finally snapped. He fucked you through it, hand tightening on your neck as he held you close, fully pressed to his body. “That’s it. Do a good job and make me come.”

“Oh god,” You sobbed walls fluttering around his length, making his hips stutter. “Please- please come. I need it… Need you to fill me up.” You whined as the tears in your eyes finally started to fall. They weren’t from fear, but rather desperation with a hint of overstimulation as you came down from your orgasm. His hand moved from in front of your face to around your stomach, pulling up against his body as he rutted into you eagerly. 

He stilled with a low, distorted groan and you could feel his cock twitching against your walls as he obeyed your request. You panted heavily, doing your best to ignore the new fire growing in your belly as he moaned and whined, trying to bury himself even deeper in your warmth. 

When he finally stilled and his moans died down, he removed his hand from your neck and wrapped it over your chest, still holding you against him. 

“Jon?” You asked quietly, making him startle as if he forgot you were there. He took the mask off, then pushed your hair behind your ear to place a kiss on your neck. 

“Are you okay?” He mumbled against your skin, both of you still panting. 

“Better than okay. But if you let me go, my knees are going to give out and I’m definitely going to fall.” He chuckled quietly as he stayed buried in your neck for only a moment longer before reluctantly pulling back. 

“Let me help you onto the desk, then I’ll carry you to the couch, okay?” You nodded and he maneuvered you to sit on the desk, both of you wincing when he pulled out. He settled between your legs then reached around behind you to undo his tie. “I wasn't too rough?” He discarded the fabric on the desk then lightly grabbed your wrists to pull them in front of you and massage them gently. 

“I loved it, Jon. Honestly. It was perfect.” He didn’t respond and instead just wrapped your legs around his hips to lift you and carry you over to the couch. He gently laid you down then took off his shirt and pants, laying them neatly over the back of the couch. When he grimaced as he started tucking his softening cock, still wet from your arousal, back in his underwear, you stopped him. You moved forward enough to wrap your lips around it, moaning at your combined tastes. 

“What— oh fuck… What are you doing?” He asked, hissing as you licked his sensitive cock. After a few more licks, you pulled back, giving him a saccharine smile. 

“There. All clean.” You said, tucking his semi back in his underwear. 

“Tease.” He muttered with a small smile, laying down and pulling you into him. He was quiet for a while as he stroked your hair and let you trail your fingers over his torso, but eventually he broke the silence. “Are you sure it was okay? I didn’t mean to do all of that. I- I shouldn’t… have done all of that. Not when you were on the verge of tears after what happened.” Honestly, you had forgotten about what happened until he mentioned it. You leaned up so he could look into your eyes as you spoke. 

“I loved it, Jon. We’ve never.. done anything like that,” You meant the consensual part of consensual non consent, “and I really really liked it. It was fucking hot.” He didn’t react to your confession as he studied you carefully, searching for the hidden truth behind your words. “And honestly, you made me a little curious about how your toxin would affect someone who’s that horny. Almost enough to make me want to try it.” 

“Are you mad?” He asked in disbelief, making your cheeks flush in embarrassment. 

“I- I just… It would be interesting to study, don’t you think?” You said sheepishly, feeling more foolish the longer he looked at you like you truly belong in Arkham. “Sorry… Forget I said anything.” You laid back down, feeling incredibly embarrassed. 

“I was only referring to you wanting to try it yourself.” He explained. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” 

“It was stupid anyway. I’ll leave the sciencey things to you from now on.” You tried to lighten the mood, but your tone didn’t convey the lightheartedness you meant for it to. 

“Would you like to be involved in the.. sciencey things?” You were only mostly sure he wasn’t making fun of you. “You can’t help with the chemistry behind it obviously, but if you want to be involved in the rest, I wouldn’t mind.” 

“I- I don’t know… I didn’t handle myself very well tonight. It’s probably not a good idea.” You muttered despondently. 

“Can I ask you something?” You nodded in response. “Was that the first time you’ve ever attended an illegal deal as a fugitive?” 

“…Yes?” Obviously it was. 

“That is my point. You’ve never done anything like that before, of course you didn’t handle it very well.”  

“Oh. Yeah I guess that’s true.” You trailed off into silence as your thoughts consumed you. Should you? It sounds… not necessarily fun, but like it could be something you wouldn’t exactly hate. You’d get to spend more time with him too. 

“Think about it for a while.” He said, dragging you out of your thoughts. 

“Okay.” You sighed. Then, “Jon?” He hummed, telling you to continue. “Why did you take off your clothes when you were already dressed?” You asked, continuing trailing your fingers over his bare chest. You didn’t mind it— not even a little bit. You were just curious. 

“I assumed you’d prefer it.” He said simply, minding his tone. 

“Why do you think that?” You asked, then, “Not that you’re wrong— I’m just wondering.” He let out a quiet sigh and you laid your palm flat against his chest to feel his heart that was beating only slightly faster than normal. 

“Because I prefer it.” His heart pounded faster and harder, but so did yours. “It’s different like this than being dressed.” Jealously, you wondered who else he’s laid like this with. Surely with any previous girlfriends, maybe even his mom. But at the same time, you’re not sure if you believe that. The way he expresses physical touch is almost awkward, unpracticed, as if he doesn’t have any previous experience laying with anyone but you. While the thought made your stomach flutter, it also made your chest ache with sympathy. “Falling asleep on me?” He suddenly asked. 

“No- sorry. Just thinking.” You said quietly, picking up the motions of your fingers against his chest again. You couldn’t believe that Jonathan Crane— the Scarecrow— was such a softy. But not just a softy in general- only for you. The thought was enough to make you almost nauseous with butterflies. 

Part 11

Taglist

@arcanebabe @quietnymph11 @dynamitehacke @pedrisgatorade @mandowhatnow @thefandomdiaries07 @itsalwaysbetternottoknow @mrkdvidal1989 @nx-0w @yrluvvr @arieslost @some-clever-username @itsalwaysbetternottoknow @geekmom3 @pleasant-meadow (didn’t let me tag —>) @imlikefrhungry @melanieani @oopy @slay-walker @annalauras-stuff @anakin-dilf @riddler-zs @tumblin-theworldaway @fire-treasure-iii @ephiiphanyy

[moonbaby26]

Title: New Day

(Chapter 15 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader

Chapter Warnings: language, non con, dubious consent, fingering, vaginal sex, anal sex, angst, references to past chapters’ physical abuse, toxic relationship

Chapter Synopsis: The day after your near fatal incident instigated by Sir Crocodile, the rumor mill is churning both within and outside the palace walls as everyone now tries to understand what you really are to Doflamingo. Everyone including the demon at the center of it all himself.

Chapters: 1,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7,  8,  9,  10,  11,  12, 13, 14, 15, 16

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—————————— 

It was a brand new morning. A beautiful day with the sun shining as the dark haired woman strode through the outdoor market. Even this early, music was already drifting from nearby, guitar strings were strumming as vendors finished setting up for their day.

Despite the rising tempo of that musician’s fingers over those strings, no one Viola saw was yet in a hurry. No one seemed nervous. She could hear laughter as people greeted one another, passing in the street. She could see their smiles.

This was her island and her people, briefly feeling to her as they always should have. 

The Donquixote soldiers that were meant to be acting as her guards, she’d ordered to stay as far back from her as possible.

They would not be ruining this rare taste of freedom for her as she did come upon an older man seated on a stool with a guitar. The origin of the sound she’d been hearing for several minutes on her morning walk as she nodded down to him.

“Good morning, Señor. That song you were playing, it’s a favorite of mine. I was hoping to meet you.” She complimented him.

“Ah, you’re too young to know it.” He paused, a little surprised at her attention. But smiling gently at her all the same. “My wife taught it to me years ago. She sang and I played back then.”

And the way he said this, with that brief look in his eyes as he did, she knew what he really meant. 

A wife that was no longer here. Someone that had been taken from him. But Viola still smiled softly. Because that sadness wasn’t an emotion she would want to truly lose. It was the shadow that love left behind. It was all they had left.

“My sister and I would attempt to sing that song.” She shared with him in return. “But she was the far better singer than me. She passed two years ago.”

This was the polite way people in Dressrosa referenced that tumultuous time, when hell had first opened its gates within their country.

And that devil’s sycophants were now the ones lingering, growing further impatient a few food stalls away.

But Doflamingo’s guards could wait. They could wait forever for all she cared.

“I suppose I haven’t tried much since then…to sing I mean. So would you play that song one more time please, Señor? It’s been so long. But today seems a bit special I think. I’d like to try to sing it again.” She told him.

And he laughed. “You young people and your romantic hearts! I’m sure you’ll be at the colosseum with all of the others today then? It seems quite fast doesn’t it? But I suppose no man wants to be alone forever. Even a king!” Yet he didn’t leave her time to agree or disagree, amused at her as he began strumming those opening chords once more.

A surprise announcement had come from the palace last night. Spreading quickly across the island all before midnight curfew.

This afternoon all were invited, or rather expected at the Corrida Colosseum. And the king himself would be in attendance. Unusual as of late, as he’d been devoting so much time to his growing underworld alone.

Those secret dealings seemingly his only focus all until that trip he’d taken to Mariejois, to the kingdom some called heaven. Something about a war on a distant island that he didn’t want the marines interceding in. Long enough ago now that Viola had gotten to bear witness to the accumulating changes in him every day since.

“In the heavens I would have power…” Viola’s voice began carefully, not fully out of tune. But certainly out of practice as she began the first verse in time with the man’s guitar.

And you, the marine woman that the officers’ whispers and minds had said Doflamingo had actually coveted for years, the one he’d first consummated with there at the home of the gods, would also be his official guest at the colosseum this evening.

Speculation was running wild through the citizens now of what this could all mean.

In the beginning Viola had not cared, except to pity you. She knew that all Doflamingo was was the thin skin of a man pulled tightly over the bones of a demon.

Yet an incident had occurred at the palace yesterday, enough to shake even her cynical heart.

“This night like the darkness within a well. With a knife made of moonlight I would cut the bars of your jail...” Her words kept on.

Doflamingo had kept her hidden away ever since your arrival. Yet more evidence that something may really be different here.

He didn’t want her to know his real plans for you. He didn’t want the two of you to meet.

Not yet.

“If I were the queen of the daylight, of the wind, and the sea, I would tie my own slave ropes in exchange for your freedom…”

The man who had never once hesitated to punish her by showing her the most grotesque and violent thoughts of what he’d like to do to new prey had suddenly been keeping everything to himself.

Why should it matter for her to know exactly how he wanted to break you? Rape you and defile you. Grind your will to dust, and then discard you once bored as he had to so many other men and women that had briefly caught his eye.

“Ay sorrow, little sorrow, sorrow of my heart…”

Doflamingo was a passionate man, even a romantic one in truth. But just at that most carnal level she had thought.

“I don’t wan’t flowers, money, or adulation.”

Violence, seduction, and jealousy were the only notes he excelled at within that complicated dance.

But yesterday there had been a culmination of tensions. Viola had been astonished to hear that panic going through the castle, to see it in so many anxious minds.

You had fought Trebol. You had fought Doflamingo himself.

And suicide is what that choice was, no matter the circumstances. Because it had never mattered to Doflamingo before whether or not someone was innocent. To go against the executives in any way, even in self defense, was absolute suicide. It was an attack on Doflamingo himself.

But maybe you weren’t the coward that she felt she was to hide amongst them. Maybe you had already refused her fate and chosen your own exit instead.

She would not have blamed you. 

Yet all evening she had stressed. Wondering how Doflamingo would cover up your death. But every moment that she still even remembered who you were had been equally confusing. 

Why hadn’t he at least brought you to Sugar?

But finally, late that night, something in her had insisted she show a bit of her own remnants of a spine. She had dared to use her sight to scan the palace for the king or yourself and learn the truth. She’d expected the worst. Your body torn apart, and new horrific tortures she’d never be able to unsee.

Yet that was not what she had found.

“I want you to let me cry for your sorrows, and to be at your side my dear, drinking the tears of your loneliness…”

Doflamingo was with you, yes. But not in one of the dungeons. Not with you screaming or begging for him to stop and to release you with death at last.

The Heavenly Demon had been curled around you in his own bed, clinging to you with a seeming level of anxiety she’d never witnessed in that creature before.

He had been watching you as you slept, a stricken look on his face.

“My eyes hurt because I look without seeing you…”

And this was the real reason Viola now spun, unable to stop from finally dancing a bit as well in the continued rhythm of that man’s guitar.

“Sorrow of my heart that flows within my veins, with the strength of a hurricane…”

Doflamingo was afraid.

“Sorrow, the same as a cloud of darkness and flint. A runaway colt that knows not where it goes…” 

Doflamingo had a weakness at last.

“It’s a desert of sand, sorrow, it’s my glory in a jail. Ay, jail! Ay sorrow! Little sorrow…”

And it was a woman.

Viola had decided that she would do everything in her power to further your influence now.

She would force herself to live long enough to see if this little crack in him could spread.

A new opening in his blackened heart that may one day be big enough to force her dagger through.

——————————— 

Last night Doflamingo had remained strange. Mostly silent as his focus stayed split between his real body and what you assumed was the string clone still working for him somewhere else in the castle.

After making you eat, there had been that brief feel of tenderness though as you’d both undressed and he’d brought you into his shower.

The same powder of glass that’d still been in your hair from the fight, he’d then helped you to wash clean. 

That and Trebol’s remaining mucus too. The warlord had kept you from losing your balance on your still weak legs, standing in the water’s spray with you as you’d scrubbed off the last of that residue.

You’d felt his cock against you too, half hard again without either of you even speaking to one another. But he hadn’t fucked you. 

After drying back off, drinking, and eating more of the food his servants brought, you’d then fallen asleep nude in his bed even before the sun had set.

At times last night you’d felt his movements beside you. But he still didn’t talk. He didn’t make you open your eyes and interact with him.

And you were fine with that.

He’d already hurt you enough for one day. You’d had nothing else you wanted to give him as you’d kept up the imitation of sleep while he’d held you tightly.

The same as he still was now as you finally did look to the ceiling again. Just the faintest bit of new sunlight was escaping the edges of his closed curtains.

It remained dim here within his bedroom, cave like really as you felt his steady breathing against your skin. His face buried against your neck, his arms wrapped around your torso, and his legs curled up to trap your own.

But your body still ached. Now with those newest additions of a severely bruised sternum and ribs to match from you taking his hits nearly full on yesterday without armament.

He’d never given any further apology either. And the more you’d thought of even that briefest one, you’d realized it was only a-

Sorry I misread that situation.

Sorry their mistakes made me do that. 

Not actual self-accountability. Not even a hint that he wouldn’t do it all again if fed bad information once more.

And you were stuck still reliving it. Hearing the door rip apart, and the glass break as he came for you, The pain when he threw you down and the pressure when you couldn’t breathe.

But that would fade as the bruises did. You knew in time you’d move on from that. Just like anytime you’d been hurt in the field, anytime you’d been knocked down before.

The thing you couldn’t shake as cleanly was how much it hurt inside as well this time. Because it wasn’t just physical pain any longer.

It’d hurt to look up at the man you still wanted as they’d started to crush your chest in.

That was a torture that should never happen to anyone.

But something touched your face and you startled from your spiraling thoughts.

Your head turned and you saw a crimson eye narrowed at you. The milky white one beside it still mostly closed against your shoulder as the pad of his finger wiped your newly wet cheek.

“Are you ever going to stop crying?” Doflamingo’s voice asked so abruptly then. Deep, but quiet in its continued proximity to you.

“I didn’t know that I was.” You answered honestly, caught off guard and letting the heel of your hand wipe the rest of that dampness away as you looked back to the ceiling.

He made a noise in response. Dismissive, but you could still feel his gaze on you.

“What’s done is done. It’s over.” He said next, making the easy assumption of what still had you rattled. And that bit of irritation was resuming in him already because of it.

But he didn’t know the real extent. You were sure that he didn’t.

“Sorry.” You were the one to say that useless word then. But you were just trying to end the subject. Trying to make him stop.

“You’re not.” He contended. 

And your eyes did look back to him then. Fresh concern in your expression no doubt.

But you felt him just stretching his legs back out. His cock was soft, but it grazed you as he adjusted his hips. He was laying on his side with his body pressed to you so firmly still.

“What more do you want from me?” He spoke against your ear now. As if you were the one still being unreasonable. “I didn’t even maim you. What do you think I would have done to any other person on this island that took matters into their own hands as you did? Regardless of why.” He said next. His hand was sliding across your stomach now.

But his fingers just kept moving lower before you could answer. The longest finger, his middle one, parted your slit in one smooth movement to begin rubbing your clit.

And just like that it was all about what your body could give him again. 

Whether you were ready for this or not.

And apparently you were not. Not as you heard your own voice so suddenly, firing back at him. “Well…did you fuck me yesterday morning too? Because that didn’t help! I woke up with strangers in the room, and then had that running down my leg. It could have been anyone!” 

You’d taken that disgust out on Trebol too you were sure. Everything was connected in this continued trauma. 

The movement of Doflamingo’s finger paused at your outburst. 

That red eye stared at you, sharp and narrowed as he lifted his head again.

“Watch your tone with me, woman.”

Two of his fingers pushed right into your entrance then with that warning. He hooked those fingers actually, the pressure making your expression change.

“Doffy,” You grunted because it hurt.

It was meant to hurt.

“Of course I fucked you. And I don’t care if you could feel it or not. If you could remember it or not. I need you, you stupid bitch.” He answered though, with that tone of hatefulness reemerging all over again. 

But you were watching his face. 

You saw when he swallowed. When the contempt began to change to a more general upset the more aroused he became. “I can’t stop. Not when you’re the only thing that feels right.”

And there was the additional cruelty of his own inconsistent feelings. 

He’d berate you. He’d hurt you, and in the very next breath he’d practically infer that he couldn’t exist without you.

His lips were on your jaw then too. You felt his tongue ghost against your skin.

His teeth nipped that same skin. “So quit acting like you don’t understand. Like you don’t want me too…you need this. You need me.”

The two fingers inside of you were now beginning to slide in and out. They pumped into you as his tongue stretched out further this time, leaving a long wet streak across the side of your face.

“But if you really are so offended…then do something about it. Punish me. Make me feel it. Fuck me back.” He taunted next.

“What?” You breathed, at a frustrating loss for his exact meaning while his fingers continued mercilessly. The way he’d said this gave away that it was now something different he was asking for.

“I’ll let you. I’d do that for you.” He grunted, his hips shifting suddenly as you now felt the tip of that awakened cock rubbing against you.

“I don’t…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” And the words were already getting harder to say. 

Harder to think of as you felt yourself getting wetter for him regardless. His fingers moving in and out so much easier now.

“Your cunt wants a break doesn’t it?” His crudeness continued. “Your ass too after what I did to you, right? I fucked you so hard when I was in there the other night, didn’t I?”

And you were feeling more heat inside of you with every insulting word. 

But he was starting to smile again. He looked so hungry actually. “Then do it to me. I’ll show you how.”

His thumb was back over your clit, working it in tandem to his fingers now quickening their already rough pace inside.

“Cum for me, and then I’ll let you fuck me. We’re both going to feel good today after the shit we got put through. We deserve this.”

Oh, so now you were a team all of the sudden? As if the power imbalance here wasn’t still so extreme.

But it didn’t matter.

Not when Doflamingo’s tongue was now forcing its way past your teeth.

You heard and felt him moan into your mouth. It was so dirty. So unrestrained really as your thighs opened up even more for him.

You were both disgustingly pathetic. 

And the wet sound of his fingers in and out of you only made everything that much worse as you started clenching around his fingers.

That tension was building in your belly.

“Cum for me…let go. You’re so close already aren’t you, love?” He broke the kiss enough to say this against your mouth. Right before he nipped your bottom lip.

The sharp little pain was almost simultaneous to that whip like feel. Like a tightening rope finally snapping inside as you felt your body tremble and hot fluid wash over his fingers.

Doflamingo inhaled sharply, looking down at the unexpected mess that had made.

The humiliation you felt was instant, but the remnants of the full body orgasm he’d just given you weren’t easily dismissed either.

You were panting.

And you heard him laugh. He laughed before his face was then nuzzling back into yours.

“I guess I should have let you take a piss before we started, huh?”

It wasn’t excessive. But it was well enough for you both to know that couldn’t all be female ejaculate. Enough to make a wet spot you could now feel beneath you on the bed.

“Asshole.” You muttered, even with his face still warmly against yours.

“It means I fucking rocked that sweet spot, didn’t I, marine?” He sounded all too smug in response. And even more flirty too as he kissed the side of your face. “Don’t be embarrassed, lover…even though you’re goddamn cute when you are. We’re not done yet anyway. Now it’s my turn.”

His grin widened too then as his fingers finally slid back out of you. He just wiped that hand on the dryer portion of the bedsheets before he flung the blankets fully away to better expose himself to you.

Doflamingo let go of you to move onto his back, propping himself into the pillows and looking so comfortable then before he motioned to the nightstand.

“Be a good, wet girl for me then, and crawl over there to get the biggest one so we can play some more. It’s all or nothing for me.” And he sounded like he was goddamn bragging. Bragging and commanding you all at once as your mind had yet to fully accept what was now happening here.

You were still trying to process the orgasm that had made your legs feel like jelly all over again.

What in the fuck was your actual life in this moment as you did crawl across the mattress eventually, then on your knees at its edge before you could reach the drawer of his nightstand and pull it open.

Which was a sight that really should not have been meant for your naive eyes. There were toys in there that you didn’t even know the use of. Intimidating things you were afraid to even goddamn touch as you peered down into that private stash. 

Packs of condoms were there too, different kinds of lubes, and more…pills? They weren’t the same shape or color as the ones you’d taken before. They were in a clear bag, beside another bag with some kind of white powder inside of it.

The fuck was that?

You did not want to reach your hand in.

“Just grab a dildo, woman. This doesn’t have to be complicated.” Doflamingo chided. A little louder then, getting more impatient.

And you did have to force yourself. Pushing the unknown things out of the way to sort through some of the more familiar looking style of toys.

You pulled one out that seemed to be the largest like he’d requested, and it looked entirely painful by your personal standards. Bigger than any of those he’d used on you the other night. But honestly, very close to his own physical size once you glanced back at him with the toy in your hand.

“That’ll do.” He smirked. “I couldn’t remember how many I still had in there.” 

And he settled back even further into the pillows, putting his arms briefly behind his head as he began spreading his legs.

“Don’t worry about lube, beautiful…let me see you use that mouth of yours instead.”

“What?” You stared. 

His always impressive cock was flushed with blood by this point, hard for this long already without any relief. Rising up from that fine blond pubic hair and pointing firmly towards the ceiling as he held his thighs open shamelessly to show you it all. 

One of his hands did move back down, lifting his own sack off of the mattress as he began to palm it.

“Suck the toy, marine. Deep throat that if you can. I want it good and wet before I show you how to really take it.”

But you didn’t want to. Your hesitation clearly said as much.

And his reactions were becoming that much sharper in response.

“Oh goddamn it, don’t be so high maintenance. Anything in that drawer was already washed. It’s clean.”

Your eyebrows still lowered. Yes, even you knew how arbitrary it seemed on the things you would finally resist him on. 

But the way he was leering at you, the way his legs were spread eagle and waiting like you owed him this. This wasn’t even an experience you had had before.

And something about it made you feel more like a whore than ever.

“What is wrong with you?” Came his exasperated tone next when you still hadn’t put that dildo in your mouth.

And your shoulders sank. He was on that edge of getting angry all over again. 

“If you fucking cry one more time…” He still fussed as your posture had changed however. That blood vessel starting to show in his forehead. “I already said I was sorry, (Y/N)!”

That damn word again. But it sounded so petulant this time.

So desperate.

“Just give me that, you idiot.” And a string had jerked the dildo from your hand. Pulling it away from you and into his grip instead as his tongue angrily ran out to run the length of it.

He put the whole thing in his own mouth soon after even as he glared at you.

Spit edged from his lips as he began to suck it. 

You were of course stunned once more. Discomfort still there for you too as you watched this inexplicable scene while Doflamingo’s cheeks hollowed out with that purposeful sucking. And he didn’t choke at all, nearly the full length of the toy then within his mouth as he pumped it in and out briefly while watching you spitefully.

When he did pull it all the way out again, spit was fully down his chin and soaked across that toy.

He did not care.

“That’s how it’s fucking done.” He growled, but still not looking away from your face. “Get over here. Now.”

And you did comply again then. But with that unwillingness still in your expression as you crawled back to him on the bed.

As soon as you were close enough though, his hand that was not holding the toy shot up to catch you by your throat.

You made a defensive sound and he smirked as he felt the resistance of your armament already beneath his squeezing hand.

“Why does everything have to be this difficult lately? I thought we were having fun.” He lamented, actually unable to make you choke that easily in how strongly your armament was then shielding you. You weren’t as weak as you’d been yesterday.

And he sighed when you still wouldn’t submit to this even rougher play. But he smiled again as he let you go just as abruptly. He finally used the back of his hand to wipe his chin then.

“I just want you to fuck me, lover…I don’t take rejection well you know. You’re hesitating too much. You’re hurting my feelings.”

The last words were said mockingly. But he was still goddamn insane, as usual. Just jumping from one emotion to the next. Had either of you even been awake long enough yet to already be going through all of this?

You took a deep breath. “I’m not rejecting you, Doffy. I’m just-“ Overwhelmed? Depressed? Traumatized?

“I just want things not to hurt. I don’t want anything else to hurt right now.” You managed, but still feeling at a complete loss of how to make someone like him understand any of this if even for a moment. 

And the responding coldness in his eyes was far from comforting as he grabbed your wrist this time, bringing you onto his lap to straddle him.

“But life is pain. So why ask me for the impossible?” His tone was still short, but his volume did quiet as he held you there. 

With you there between his legs, he brought that still wet dildo down between you both. He inhaled, letting your wrist go as he reached to grab himself again. He was then holding his own balls up and out of the way as he moved that toy beneath them.

He still spoke to you as he did, his eyes on yours as he angled it against his own opening that you could not see. “The important thing is that we can now hurt together. You have me. And I’m showing you my pain too, aren’t I? I’m letting you in.”

And he groaned a little, you getting to see that true discomfort move across his face as the tip first entered him.

You were silent as Doflamingo breathed deeper, him pausing as if to adjust to even that much of it inside of him.

“Damn. It really has been a while...” He said, like he was a bit taken aback himself at the new feeling.

But with it now started, his large hand moved back over your wrist.

His grip was warm, and far more gentle this time as he guided your hand to the base of that toy.

“I want it to be you.” He breathed again. There was no mask of a smile any longer. Just this man looking up at you needfully, anxiously even as he made your hand close around the toy. “Push it in, love. Fast or slow…whatever feels right to you. I trust your judgement…please.”

And even if you were sure that every new word of his was fully intended to make you have the exact reaction that you now were, this still wasn’t something you could control.

You felt the new heat in your chest as his tone had changed. You were embarrassed again. It felt like you’d never even had sex before all of the sudden.

And of course you hadn’t like this. Not with the roles reversed this way.

You knew what it felt like for you though, to have that pressure just edging your entrance. The longer you made him wait, the less kind that would be, wouldn’t it?

Oh, you were so in over your head though. Yourself flustered and him still never looking away from you as you finally did start to push it in him.

Doflamingo gasped quietly, his lips parting in a way that immediately had you feeling some kind of way between your own legs again.

Your body was fully confused in this moment actually. 

But his wasn’t. You saw his abdominal muscles tense and even his cock twitch as you still slid that thick toy gradually deeper inside of this man.

The resistance was weird, but you could tell he was relaxing as much as he could. You were being so mindful of his expressions too. Even pausing to let him adjust again whenever you’d see that brief flit of pain reenter his eyes.

And something about that level of care from you did bring a rare softer look across his attractive face. “I knew it…” He chuckled despite himself. “If you had a dick, you’d be so gentle with it at first. Wouldn’t you, my love? So responsible with your weapons.”

He was smiling again then, a fully pleasured one before he let out a small moan when you did continue pressing in again.

“Almost flush…come on.” He said next. His eyes were going half lidded too. A near look of adoration in them now for you. “It feels so good, woman…don’t stop.”

It was hard to look away from those rare emotions either, you not wanting to miss out on any of what he was now offering you in return.

But you also found yourself uneasy to finally realize that all of that toy but the bit you were still holding onto had now disappeared.

It was all the way in. He’d really taken it so well.

And he was still laying on his back beneath you, thighs spread wantonly with his head and shoulders just barely propped up in the pillows as a new urge overcame you.

You left the toy fully in him as you moved back up that long torso of his just enough to kiss him again.

And this surprised him. Likely so much of his focus already just on that sensation of being filled, waiting for you to start thrusting before your mouth was abruptly over his.

But he certainly didn’t stop you. Far from it as his mouth opened in return, wanting to taste you again immediately as you felt his hips roll. His hand grabbed into your hair to hold you to him long enough to deepen that kiss as well.

“Oh, fuck,” Doflamingo breathed against your lips in between kisses, nipping them briefly again when he didn’t want to let go of you. “You don’t know what you do to me…no one…they didn’t do it like this.”

And he wasn’t even making sense now. 

But he was trying to.

So you did pull back a little, your hand then stroking down his chest as you listened to him.

And even that additional soft touch set him off too. His hips rolled hard again as he looked at you desperately. “Why…why are you like this? Why are you so good to me?” He managed, finally articulating what he really meant with the last words. “Why are you so kind to me?”

Of course that question stunned you all over again. But not just for hearing it from his mouth. Because you weren’t sure how he’d even come to that conclusion, and right now of all times.

“I…what did I do?” You asked genuinely, letting him begin kissing your jawline again when you hadn’t yet moved back fully away yet.

“This. Goddamnit all of this.” His frustration was palpable. But he didn’t want to stop. “You…you don’t just fuck me. You kiss me…you hold me. You pet me…it drives me fucking crazy.”

Really? Just because of those simple things?

Your own surprise was surely evident. In all the bodies he must have partaken of through the years, you were somehow a standout?

And for what?

Just for being intimate with him? For giving instead of just taking or cowering?

“Doffy…don’t you get it?” You asked him suddenly then. Your hand was still warm over his chest. You had paused your palm there as you could feel his heartbeat beneath his muscles. That beat was growing faster. “I give you what I would want. I mean…why wouldn’t I do that?”

And his hand moved over yours against his chest. He squeezed your hand, very tightly but not quite painful.

He smirked darkly. “You…are either the best or the worst thing that has ever happened to me in this hellhole.” But his hips moved again as that laugh of his emanated out. “So fuck me like you love me. Finish me properly.“

Almost gently he pushed you back then, back down to sit near his open legs again as he put your hand back on the end of that toy.

It was clear what he wanted most now, rolling his hips again as he watched you needfully. 

And so you did it. No more stalling as you gave your monster what he wanted. Thrusting that toy at whatever speed he would take.

First slow, and then faster as you got to watch the king of Dressrosa begin to fully unravel for you. 

But you felt no guilt. Nor did he want you to. Doflamingo’s approval was clear in the way he threw his head back and even arched against the mattress the more you pressed.

“Fuck…yes, it’s been too long…yes, just like that…” He moaned as those claws of his began fisting into the bedsheet. 

And before long it was your own name repeatedly leaving his panting chest.

You would have been lying to say it wasn’t making new slick between your own legs to hear his normally prideful voice start to break for you that way too.

But you were still more focused on what you were doing to him. Not what it was causing in you as his eyes met yours again.

“Harder…I know you can. Please, (Y/N).” He was already speaking in gasps now. But you still obliged, feeling like you were holding a damn dagger by this point.

Being told to stab it into him over and over, working your wrist and your arm to do so.

His poor cock looked to be painful by now as well as it bobbed in the air with the continued movement of his hips, nothing to thrust into as it leaked precum all over the head.

And in all of his panting and the increasing volume of your name across his lips like some kind of prayer, the thought did finally cross your mind to do something with that neglected cock.

He didn’t deserve it of course. Not after all he’d already done to you. You’d just told him how messed up it’d been that he’d still fucked you when you were blacked out too. You’d told him you wanted a break from hurting. 

But his moans kept on. This shameless motherfucker who could abuse you so thoroughly, and then turn around the very next day and gladly put on a vulnerable display like this.

Your own renewed slick was now thick enough to actually begin edging out. Gravity bringing a hint of it onto your thigh in the way you were currently positioned as your hand still moved to keep fucking Doflamingo.

You didn’t want to get pounded by him yet. You really didn’t as your body was still very unhappy in all the damage it had accumulated recently.

But just being filled yourself for a moment? You could tolerate that couldn’t you? He wasn’t going to be lasting much longer anyway. The changing rhythm of his panting always gave him away when he was already this near climax.

What would his face be if you did this though? Would that expression be worth any additional price you were about to pay?

His eyes were closed now, he was living for those sensations you were rocking through his body as his hips moved in time with your non stop thrusting of that toy. 

Which made it trickier. Keeping your hand and arm movement going, thankfully with some marine stamina to help you out there as you raised up onto your spread knees.

Just open enough to fit him between your thighs of course.

And the mattress movement as you shifted wasn’t enough to warn him. Even if it was, he likely thought you were only trying to find a more comfortable way to sit.

He couldn’t know anything was actually different until he’d felt the first touch of something against the tip of his weeping cock.

But by the time his eyes had opened, your slick had made that initial push all too easy. Just that brief spike of pressure to clear the head, and that small gasp of pain from you before you had slid down onto as much of his length as you could take.

Your channel squeezed around him immediately as his girth stretched you painfully as always, tight to the point of almost being too much to withstand.

And the absolutely awestruck look on Doflamingo’s face as he fully realized what you’d just done, without even being asked to, was an expression you doubted you’d ever see from him again. He nearly came right then and there with that surprise you were sure.

Only you stopping your thrusting of the toy briefly then as you’d tried to adjust to him inside of you had allowed him that extra time to process this.

You were still having to hold yourself up a little as well, not wanting to put too much pressure against your cervix as you watched the man beneath you try to remember his own voice. 

You had rendered the Heavenly Demon speechless. Though his hands wasted no time finding your hips, helping you steady yourself on his length.

Reflexively you tightened on him again and you felt his cock twitch inside of you in response.

He took another shaky breath, still staring at you like you weren’t even human any longer. Like you had materialized straight from the heavens to anoint him with this dual pleasure.

“Let go of the toy,” his voice was practically a rasp when it finally did reemerge. “I’ll move it. You just sit there and stay tight on me…god, gods I can’t…I…fuck I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

And he sounded like he was pleading, or dying. Like you were actually killing part of this man.

But you saw his fingers move. You were getting better at seeing his strings too. The tiny glimmers they made even here in the shadows of those still closed curtains.

His strings were now hooked to the toy. He was going to fuck himself while you took care of his cock in the way only you could.

And once that did restart, with the toy moving in and out with his strings and you rocking your hips and squeezing around his attention starved shaft simultaneously, Doflamingo let out a euphoric moan louder than any before it. One they had to have heard all the way downstairs.

And it was your name he was calling out to the world. 

Like a curse and a salvation for him all at once. It was a fucking scream as he finally came.

He was shuddering, thrusting up into you as you felt his cock pulse again and again. Each pump a shot full of his seed, hot and purposeful.

“Yes…goddamn yes,” he was still panting, still trembling as he pulled you down onto his body. His cock continuing to empty itself inside of you as he held you to him.

And you let him do it. You breathed with him, the heat of that fire between you both so apparent again.

It had become make up sex with a king. Reconciliation with your warlord as one of his hands moved back into your hair and the other went protectively across your back.

He was caging you to him as his chest rose and fell. And you closed your eyes in that warmth, silent again just to hear him breathing. 

You did love this part of it. You really did.

If only it was enough to ever outweigh every other fault in you both.

—————————

He’d let the servants open the curtains at last while they’d delivered breakfast at his command. This new sunlight filling the dining area not being something he’d normally ask for. He usually liked it cooler, darker in here within his chambers. A less stimulating environment when he needed that to withdraw to.

But he wanted to see you better this morning. He wanted to appreciate what was still fully novel to him as you sat near him. Just the two of you sharing a quiet breakfast at the long table in his suite.

He’d only pulled on a pair of pants. Shirtless and barefoot, blond hair not even combed yet as he ate while watching you.

Sex always made him hungry. And he knew you were still working from a caloric deficit anyway. He’d figured out already that you ate less and less the more stressed you were.

Like bringing home an exotic pet, he had to learn your environmental quirks. He had to force you to stay healthy enough to survive after all of his personal investment already in you.

And he’d known there’d be an adjustment period. Some violence surely if you were pushed too far, too fast.

But Crocodile had thrown fuel on that fire. And it’d nearly worked. Just like everything that reptile did. The plan was almost good enough, but fell short in the final leg. A stumble right at the finish line.

He hadn’t even called Crocodile yet either. Though Doflamingo’s mind had churned with so many thoughts of revenge and how close he’d really come to losing you. Painfully angry even long into last night as he’d lain awake holding you while thinking of how to fix this.

That sandy fucker had no right to toy with him now. And just like in Scylla, when Doflamingo had had to abruptly pivot, deciding to bring you home then and there after Crocodile’s attack, he’d felt his hand being forced yet again now.

He had to let his enemies know there was no indecisiveness in him. You weren’t just a new distraction they may be able to harm and thereby simply annoy him or force him to negotiate for. 

This wasn’t him just taking a new mistress for fun. This was him setting up the future that he wanted. You were his family now.

And he was going to let the world know. Then if anyone still dared to come for you, they’d have to do so in full knowledge of the scorched earth that would bring them.

No one harmed his family.

“After we eat, I do have some more things to take care of this morning. But I need you dressed in your best marine garb for this afternoon. I’m taking you to the colosseum then. And I’m expecting practically every seat to be filled there. Diamante is quite the promoter for special events like this.”

The piece of potato omelette still on your fork held there for a moment as you glanced over to him. You so casual yourself in some faded marine training shirt, the material thinned enough that he had been enjoying you clearly being braless beneath it.

“To fight?” You asked surprisingly serious.

Enough so that he scoffed, rolling his uncovered eyes at you. You were still an idiot at times. Still a human after all. “To spectate, darling.” Not that the idea of you fully healed, running around the arena breaking jaws with your kicks and slitting throats with that rope dart of yours wasn’t a very strong turn on in its own right.

There weren’t many female gladiators. The public would eat that shit up if you could be flashy enough about it. You were a bit serious when you fought right now.

Maybe after the child came. You’d probably be itching by then for some postpartum violence and a return to form.

You were a warrior after all.

“We’ve fallen off of the front page again in the papers if you hadn’t noticed. I think it’s time for another public appearance.”

“Why would I want to be in the newspaper? Fuck that.” And you did start eating your omelette again then.

It was obvious the drugs were back out of your system at least. Those pills had dulled you so much yesterday. Your attitude was back in full force today.

But he was in a good mood now. Getting to penetrate you while you penetrated him was an itch he had not expected to be so thoroughly scratched this morning. That had been fucking paradise actually. “Because you want to help our dear mother, don’t you?” Doflamingo taunted, smirking in full knowledge of how much this was going to push your buttons.

And you stilled again, giving him a colder look immediately there. “Tsuru?” You still had to ask.

“Obviously.” He confirmed. “I mean, you’re not fully stupid I know.” He was just being a dick for the sake of it now. He was enjoying every additional interaction with you actually. “Haven’t you wondered why she’s been stationed on the same pitiful island chain for weeks upon weeks now? A strategist like her should have had that rebellion extinguished in days.”

“Have you had your hand in it?” You accused abruptly then.

And he was honestly a little surprised at that. But you were still learning him too. He could forgive it for now. He had obviously benefited by her being away there for so long too. Those circumstances alone had practically dropped you into his lap.

“I don’t interfere with Tsuru-san. Not as Joker, not as me. No, I cut all ties with Lyra as soon as she got assigned there. I’m not the one delaying her.” He said honestly, even through the remaining skepticism in your eyes.

“It’s the world government that decided to bury that place, long and slow with blockades she’s been ordered to maintain. And Big News Morgans has started snooping around about it. So many have died. He’ll drag Tsuru’s name through the mud too if he doesn’t have a better story to sell papers with soon. So you and I can be that story and save her the defamation.”

“How many have died?” You were starting to look more bothered. You were realizing you may actually believe him.

As you should, because he was telling the goddamn truth for once. “Probably a good thirty percent of the total population. But nearer fifty, even sixty percent in certain towns. Because the government is also using that rebellion as the perfect testing ground for some new lab grown diseases of theirs. With Tsuru maintaining their blockade, there’s no medical assistance in or out either. No one to tell on them of how unnatural that contagion really is.”

“Then how would you know?” You were still trying to hope he could be wrong.

And there he did grin again, smugly as his legs spread a little once more beneath the table.

“Lover, have you already forgotten what exactly it is I do for a living? I’m not just your personal cock toy…though I am enjoying the benefits of that new role.”

“Then is Tsuru okay…is my crew okay?”

Oh how sad. Like a puppy missing its littermates. “Of course she’s fine. The government didn’t allow the marines to enter any of the diseased towns either. They’ve got Cipher Pol quarantining those. Your little troop has been spending all their time stopping blockade runners and sniping the surviving rebels in the mountains.”

But he saw the way you still didn’t look satisfied. “Why didn’t she tell me…she never said it was that bad.”

“You know how she is. She probably thought you had enough on your plate. Namely…me.” He smiled again.

“I should be with them.” And it was like you were talking to yourself then. The new guilt in your expression was obvious.

But finally here, he did feel that bit of irritation trying to start in him again. Yes, he knew how attached you must still be to your crew. Tsuru had saved you. No different than him pulling Baby 5, Monet, and Sugar from poverty and what would have only been a life of sexual abuse mixed with the constant threat of starvation for those girls otherwise.

And had never touched them. He would never dream of it in that context. They were family.

He could do these things to you though, because he’d seen you as a potential mate even from first sight.

They were like little sisters to him. But you were not. Even if he may tease you as such, with Tsuru as the common maternal thread between you.

“They’re fine without you.” He said carefully. Actually trying not to let his jealousy fully burst out. He didn’t want this good mood ended already. “I need you here.”

And it was intentional, the way he moved with his long arm easily reaching out for his hand to close over yours on top of the table.

“Like I said, we can help Tsuru-san here by being a good distraction. So she doesn’t have to deal with public accusations of mass murder that she has zero control over. I know she’s still been letting some medicine and food get through in secret anyway. She’s doing the best she can while still playing by the government’s rules on the surface. That woman is incorruptible. As always.”

And you still looked sad. Annoying to him really when he was right here in front of you, giving you his full attention this way. He wanted your mind on this feeling between the two of you instead, thinking of him alone. 

“(Y/N).” He said, relaxing his eyes as best he could. Emoting as best he could to regain your focus. “I need you.” He reiterated, even more intentional this time. Even more heartfelt he supposed it would be called. A skill that could be practiced and honed like any other tool in his manipulations of course. “This is your home now. With me.”

——————————

Your hands were in the pockets of your marine coat, intentionally so he could not hold either of them as your boot heels clicked on the stone streets.

What were you supposed to do? Doflamingo would have pulled you out here on his strings anyway if you hadn’t come willingly.

He wouldn’t have allowed their group to be humiliated by a no show when Diamante had already promised the public an appearance from you both this afternoon.

But you still didn’t buy any of his shit about this being a performance for Tsuru’s sake. Though you were now worrying for her and your crew still as you did your best to keep a neutral expression.

The Donquixote foot soldiers were keeping the curious onlookers at bay as you walked with Doflamingo towards the Corrida Colosseum.

Reporters had remained on the island, hoping for this very thing as cameras now flashed again and questions were yelled out to you both here and there.

For now the warlord was ignoring them though. Those red sunglasses rarely looked away from you.

“You know it’s a bit insulting for you to still be wearing that weapon when we’re out together.” Doflamingo said then, but that amusement so clear in his tone. “I’m all the weapon you need you know…”

Unless the civilians were excellent lip readers, they wouldn’t know what kind of small talk was really occurring here in the other noise of the crowd. And you were still so cognizant of everything you did with your own body language as you kept your eyes on the street ahead and where you were walking.

“If I’d had my weapon on in Scylla I wouldn’t have to still be dealing with this failed amputation.” You replied dryly. That swordsman never would have been so lucky if you just could have disarmed him with a haki infused rope and strangled him until he confessed who he was really working for.

“You left my side that night, darling. That was your own fault.” Doflamingo still chided though. Followed with a taunting, “But you’re barely limping today. Perhaps they won’t even notice with your legs covered this way. Does it still ache?”

You had chosen to wear leggings beneath your skirt this time. Covering the wound and all those bruises. “It hurts like fuck, you ass.” You said lowly.

And he almost cackled at the abruptness of that. 

So much so that you finally did look up at him in mild surprise.

“Didn’t Tsuru ever try to wash out that filthy mouth?” He practically cooed afterward.

Only then as you saw some young women giggling and blushing in your peripheral vision did you realize that to everyone else’s eyes this must look like real flirting, like familiarity already.

His attention was so clearly on you, the tall man walking fully at your side to better interact. Not even in front of you this time to lead. And him then laughing and smiling as if you’d said something endearing. 

Prince charming is who they somehow still thought he was, a fairytale come to life right before their eyes. They had no understanding of what lay behind it at all.

But you couldn’t judge their ignorance. Not when you knew so much more and were still right here beside him.

This very same man that had shown you the edge of death yesterday. And the same man you’d willingly climbed on top of this morning to briefly ride the cock of as he screamed out your name.

What a cursed pair the two of you were.

And he actually looked happy about it, proud even.

This bastard was out here living his best life while you were trying not to have another breakdown. 

Yes, what a complete shitshow this really was.

———————————

There had been lines all the way down the street just for admittance today. And it was even more of a madhouse once they’d gotten inside. This former gladiator knew the corridors well here however, holding the young girl’s hand firmly as he hopped at her side.

“Please stay close. Keep your face covered.” He reminded her yet again as he saw her getting distracted in all the spectacle.

“It’s hot, and I don’t like this on my face.” She still complained though, looking back down at him with her small voice almost lost in all the boisterous conversations around them.

“We’re only staying long enough to see what all this fuss is about. Then we’ll be going home.” Home being only the latest abandoned hovel that no one would search for her in. He hadn’t been able to convince Rebecca to stay there today while he made this rarer trip to the city.

But, it also hadn’t taken much of her arguing with him either really. The little tin soldier was still afraid to leave his young daughter alone out there in the countryside for long.

The girl who didn’t even know she had a father any longer while he kept tightly with her on their way to the public seating.

The sheer number of people here made her being recognized rather unlikely. But it was always a risk. So he’d made her tie a scarf around her face. Just below her wide and anxious eyes as inconsiderate adults bumped her this way and that in the crowd.

Kyros had to restrain himself not to say anything on her behalf. Knowing a normal toy would never make such a spectacle against humans.

He needed to remain focused as well. All the top members of the Donquixote family were now in attendance. 

His contact from the Tontattas had confirmed this. Even as the dwarves had been equally excitable with the fact that they had indeed still seen you alive this morning.

Details of yesterday had been rather spotty with the dwarves intense fear of Doflamingo making them rather unwilling to visit the palace for long. And certainly never letting themselves become trapped in the same room with him.

But Kyros understood there had been some sort of fight yesterday. That you had stood up to Trebol to break his nose even. A wound that executive still had bandaged today in fact.

It was truly unheard of.

So of course the dwarves and their optimistic hearts were already whispering of miracles.

They said Doflamingo had spared you out of affection.

Everything was always face value to them until brutally proven otherwise.

But Kyros had been in the throne room that first night of the invasion. He’d seen the truly pleasured smile on that animal’s face as King Riku had kneeled broken before him. While the former king had begged before that monster for mercy that Dressrosa would never see.

The little tin soldier could not fathom any love ever existing within such a wicked man.

Doflamingo was but a conqueror thirsting for more every moment, every second. More power, more control, more blood, and more suffering.

He was a beast that must be slayed for any of them to ever know freedom again.

So Kyros had come to witness this new lie with his own metal eyes. Because the Tontattas were surely misconstruing it somehow.

They thought you must have some special power over even Doflamingo’s missing heart. They wanted to believe in you so badly.

They hoped that a kind queen may soon rise to free them.

But Kyros had begged them to wait, to not make contact with you yet. 

Even if you had wished to help them, it didn’t mean that you could. It could be only another elaborate trap, you but another puppet on that demon’s strings. 

And the Tontattas weren’t alone in their immediate emotional investment in you either. That was clear in the excitement of the crowd as the tin soldier and Rebecca finally found an empty space they could cram into between other spectators. 

Like every other toy now in this stadium though, the war for this country had never ended for Kyros. His anguish and hatred were still the only real feelings he could muster as the humans beside him cheered when their king did finally appear. A blond devil grinning wide within the royal viewing box.

The very root of all that was wrong with their home. Their captor and tormentor, now with you at his side.

————————— 

Diamante had truly outdone himself today. It was perfect really. Only even furthering Doflamingo’s excellent mood as he heard the crowd now cheering his name.

He reached out, his fingers catching briefly over your hip as he guided you to sit beside him in the open air box.

You tensed at even that small of a touch though. You were still wishing to remain so proper in public. 

That time was about to be ending though. And he already was broadcasting that to anyone paying attention. Which was everyone of course as he extended his long arm over the stone seat back just behind you once you had sat at his side.

Gatz’s voice was already loud over the stadium’s speakers, welcoming the crowd to this afternoon of special exhibition matches put on by request of his majesty who was now gracing them with his rare presence.

Because it really had been a while since he’d been to the colosseum in person. He’d been too busy with his responsibilities as Joker, too busy with chasing you.

But now you were here and so was he. And you’d just noticed the large projection screen. Normally meant to showcase the highlights of the battles below to the crowd. But those visual transponder snails were focused on the royal booth in this moment to the people’s further delight as you quickly looked away.

“Don’t be so cold.” Doflamingo spoke to you with that continued amusement. “You’re still representing your precious marines here too you know. Don’t you care about this island’s citizens? They’re dying to get a chance to catch your eye…”

Quite literally perhaps.

On Doflamingo’s orders, Diamante had already let his prisoner gladiators know of today’s special rules. 

With you as his official guest, whichever fighter was judged as performing the best in the matches to come would earn the unheard of right of a full pardon. Not that unattainable thousand match bullshit that Diamante normally tortured them with.

But that pardon would come from none other than you. Just for today, Doflamingo would be granting you that authority, though you didn’t know it yet.

He wanted them to love you. He couldn’t show much mercy, even when used as a tactic with ulterior motives. Because he had to maintain full control here. But you could. You could be the facade of the softer hand when he needed one.

Doflamingo could have you secure the trust of even the ones that already knew enough to fear him. And you could help him weed out more of the traitors then when they’d inevitably come to you for help.

He was smiling, you making his life better in every way in this moment as he got comfortable. Legs spread again, his knee against yours as one of the servants brought the first tray of drinks by.

And he knew there was a diamond ring in his pocket as well. The one he’d picked out from the jeweler’s tray Monet and Sugar had presented him with earlier today when he’d told you he had a few things to take care of before getting ready to come here.

By this time tomorrow every piece of trash that had ever tried to cross him would be seeing a picture of that ring on your hand in the newspaper.

It was a fucking beautiful day to be king. A beautiful day to have everything back under his control, including you.

———————————

    T⨂  BE 

CONTINUED

———————————

Thanks for reading!

Author’s note: The song that Viola sings in the beginning is just my own English bastardization/loose translation for story purposes of the Spanish song “¡Ay Pena, Penita, Pena!”. Please go listen to the real thing.